Author: Clare DiLiscia
Published by: Month9Books
Publication date: May 21st 2019
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Half the population of the island of Madera are dead, killed by an unforgiving and indiscriminate plague. Oriana dreams of escaping her life of ruthless cruelty from the people who now rule over those who remain. No telling whom the plague will strike next, Oriana means to find freedom for herself and her people. Drawing strength from ancient tales of her enemy, young Oriana transforms herself from victim to warrior with the help of a mysterious and powerful dagger given to her by a kind and dying boy.
Years later, during her enemy’s betrothal ritual, Ezra, a boy she has never before seen, selects her as his mate. With servitude her only option, Oriana accepts the offer. Whisked away to a seemingly perfect world, Oriana discovers sinister secrets at every turn, including the identity of Tristan, a boy with whom she shares an undeniable but impossible connection.
Why would a boy she doesn’t know wish her to be his betrothed? Why does she feel such a strong pull toward a stranger? Someone in Ezra’s family not only knows the answer to both those questions, but also about the dagger Oriana possesses. He will do anything to stop the union. Now, with everything on the line, Oriana turns inward to find the strength she needs to seize the full power of the dagger so that she may protect herself and save her people.
I cringe; not wanting to confess the extent of my obsession of finding the boy I’ve convinced myself for too long never existed. After I’d miraculously healed from the fever, I went half mad looking everywhere for him. Like a maniac, I searched in every room, closet and under every desk at the schoolhouse for any indication where he might’ve gone. Then I took it one step further. Dressed like Neliem himself, I snuck at the crack of dawn into the Untouchable section of town which we are forbidden to enter. I scourged the marketplace, the temples of their false gods, the fields, the hills, our cave, any place I could think of, going as far as to risk my own life for weeks to find him. Just for the chance to see him and touch him again, I would’ve done anything. Me, who hated to be touched, ached for this boy the way a dying man aches for water in the desert.
Clare Di Liscia grew up near the hills surrounding Dodger’s Stadium. For University, Clare attended KU Leuven, in Belgium. She graduated with a Film Degree from Cal State Northridge, earning Dean’s List recognition. Neliem won 1st place HM in SCBWI’s Sue Alexander.
Title: Eye of Danger
Author: Alyssa Day
Publication date: July 2nd 2019
Genres: Adult, Paranormal
He’s a PI who turns into a tiger.
She can see how you’ll die.
The bad guys never stood a chance.
EYE OF DANGER: The longest and most twisty installment of the Tiger’s Eye mysteries yet!
When Tess Callahan’s long-lost and presumed-dead father comes back to town, running from the mob, she’s not sure how to feel. But when she finds out the bad guys are really after her, to use her “gift” as a weapon, she knows exactly who to turn to.
When Jack Shepherd must confront mob bigwigs, a rogue vampire, and Tess’s dad all in the same day, he realizes that small towns can be every bit as deadly as the rebellion he led when he was a soldier. Tess is in trouble, and there’s no way Jack will let anything happen to her—they haven’t even gone on their first date!
Welcome to Dead End, Florida, where the pawnshop never, ever deals in vampire teeth. And welcome to the Tiger’s Eye Mysteries!
Beware! This novel contains: magic, shape shifters, humor, vampires, a taxidermied alligator, mob bosses, assassins, a missing father, in-law jokes, gunshots, bad singing, delicious baked goods, terrible parking, the FBI, swamp commandos, tigers, special agents, flirting, belly laughs, comedy, humor, and a pawn shop.
Alyssa Day is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty novels filled with kissing, laughter, mystery and magic. Alyssa’s paranormal series include the Poseidon’s Warriors and Cardinal Witches paranormal romances and the Tiger’s Eye Mysteries paranormal mysteries. In an Alyssa Day book, the good guys (and gals!) always win and happily ever after always prevails!
Alyssa’s many awards include Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award for outstanding romance fiction, and the RT Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Paranormal Romance novel of 2012. Her books have been translated into a zillion languages but she’s still holding out for Klingon.
The Matchmaker’s Surrender
Author: Tammy L. Bailey
Series Matchmaker Book Two
Genre Adult Historical Romance
Publication Date May 20, 2019
Barnes & Noble http://bit.ly/2HrvPyw
Google Play http://bit.ly/2WSpaml
Miss Jane Dalton, one of London’s most successful matchmakers, would rather bring couples together than choose a gentleman for herself. In fact, she could not think of anything more frightening than falling in love.
Fate, however, disrupts her plans to remain a single matchmaker when Mr. Nicholas Waverley, her brother’s best friend, is forced to kidnap her after she becomes entangled in an assassin’s web.
Brought together under dangerous circumstances, Jane realizes her true feelings for Nicholas. In the end, however, is her love for him worth the fall?
With perspiration gathering in the most delicate of places, Jane discarded her shawl and went to join her aunt. She sank hesitantly onto a scroll-end sofa with a gold satin stripe, and, anchored to her seat, watched Mr. Waverley shuffle out his remaining guests, much to the chagrin of his mother. Mr. Waverley and his unhappy mother’s conversation echoed into the room Jane and her aunt occupied, seemingly forgotten in the flurry of departing ladies.
“How could you dismiss everyone so cruelly, Nicholas? You know I’ve been planning to hold a party here.”
“Yes, a ball, later in the season. Tonight, you were supposed to return to Oxfordshire.” He paused to draw in an impatient breath. “You knew the location of my townhouse was private and undisclosed. Now, I will most likely need to move.”
He exhaled and ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “Besides, shouldn’t there be a balance of ladies and gentlemen in attendance? What you arranged was an intimate audition of single females to see who would best suit me as a wife.”
“I had to do something. I’ve heard several ladies dare to call you a libertine! Don’t you know you cannot flirt your entire life or charm your way into a lady’s good graces?”
“You cannot force fate on them either.”
Just then, Jane’s aunt gave a loud sort of snort, startling Mr. Waverley and his mother. They turned toward Jane.
His mother whispered what seemed like words of disapproval before Nicholas strode toward Jane, stopped, and towered over her, breathing exasperatedly. “You’re not very good at following directions are you, Miss Dalton?”
“Nicholas Vincent Waverley! Apologize to her at once,” his mother scolded from the other room.
He sent his mother a sheepish look before nodding toward Jane with a tight smile. “Please forgive—”
Jane held up her hand for him to not waste his time. “I think I liked you better when you were predictable and unpretentious, Mr. Waverley.”
His jaw dropped, and she stood, lifting her gloved hand to tap his chin closed. “Good night, sir.”
Jane curtsied to Mrs. Waverley who was preparing to leave the townhouse. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Dinner was lovely.”
Mrs. Waverley sent her son a displeasing look before returning her attention back to Jane. “Thank you.”
On her aunt’s arm, Jane left the house, disappointed and confused. Not once in the short time Jane had known him had Mr. Nicholas Waverley ever appeared so anxious and uncharismatic.
By the time both Mrs. Waverley and Jane’s carriage was brought around, it was almost one in the morning. Her body felt heavy, and her mind raced with questions and curiosity. Her interest grew the moment her carriage pulled away: she noticed another vehicle rumble by to stop just outside Mr. Waverley’s door. She watched curiously, hoping to see who was arriving so late at night, but Jane’s carriage drove away before she could see who got out.
Discontented, Jane sat back and tried not to dwell on her feelings or his bizarre actions. Perhaps the cab held a lady whom Mr. Waverley didn’t want anyone to see. Jane’s heart squeezed in her chest from the very thought.
“Poor lady,” Jane grumbled. She had sulked for quite a few minutes before she shivered—she’d left her shawl at Mr. Waverley’s townhouse. She glanced back, tempted to force the carriage around.
“Oh, Jane, be reasonable,” she scolded herself aloud. After all, what good would come of her arriving unannounced and stumbling upon Mr. Waverley with a lady of ill repute?
Nauseous from her own imaginings, she grasped her stomach. No matter her curiosity, she didn’t wish to catch a glimpse of Mr. Waverley without a stitch of clothing. Oh, perfect. Now she was going to picture Mr. Waverley without his clothes.
She closed her eyes to keep the image of his striking and powerful form from flitting through her mind. It didn’t work. Heat rose from her chest to her cheeks, consuming and shocking.
“Jane, do be still,” her aunt scolded her from her napping position.
“I’m cold,” she lied. “I…I left my shawl at Mr. Waverley’s place.”
Her aunt thought for a moment with her eyes closed. “We are not too far away. We shall return to retrieve it.”
Her aunt straightened and tapped the top of the carriage, leaning her head out of the window to call to the coachman. “Return to Grosvenor Square at once.”
“This isn’t necessary, Aunt Sophia,” Jane begged.
“Neither is you dying.”
Knowing it was useless to argue, Jane waited until the carriage stopped in front of Mr. Waverley’s house again. The black vehicle she’d seen earlier was gone. As well, all the lights inside his townhouse were snuffed out.
“Go on, Jane. A footman should still be awake to assist you.”
A knot of apprehension tightened in Jane’s belly. Still, she stepped out of the carriage and to the door, knocking twice. After a few moments of silence, she backed away, relieved. Who returned to retrieve a shawl this late and without an invitation? Well, apparently, she did. Embarrassed, she shifted back toward the carriage when the wide door clicked open.
“May I help you, Miss?”
Jane twisted around to find—instead of Mr. Waverley’s footman—the short, slight build of the housekeeper, Mrs. Fielding.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t wake you,” Jane said.
“No, Miss. Is the Master expecting you?”
Jane shook her head. “I…I left my shawl here earlier.”
Mrs. Fielding nodded and waved Jane inside, shutting the door behind her, and led Jane into the sitting room.
“Please, wait here,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”
Jane stood still until heavy footsteps sounded on the staircase behind her. She turned just in time to see Mrs. Fielding bustling up the stairs, a candle in one hand and Jane’s shawl clutched in the other.
“Mrs. Fielding?” Jane called, but the housekeeper continued away from her.
“Oh, what are you about?” she whispered.
While sensibility begged Jane to remain where she stood, curiosity drove her forward and up the stairs. Light was scarce, and she crept at a cautious pace until two carved gilt-wood wall sconces illuminated her path on the landing.
When a cold draft flitted across the nape of her neck, she shivered and turned back the way she had come.
“I’ll buy another shawl,” she murmured. However, before she could take one step, a door clicked behind her, luring her to retrace her steps.
Jane leaned forward, following a blood-red carpet runner down the muted hallway with her gaze. Like a snooping child, she tiptoed onward, both terrified and intrigued at the same time.
When she came to an open door, she peered inside. The room appeared empty except for a few chairs placed around a small round table illuminated by the flickering of a single half-melted candle.
“Hello?” she called, her voice breaking on the word. Her heart pounded inside her ears as she slipped across the threshold.
“I’d just like my shawl back,” she said.
In the hallway, the clomp of footsteps echoed on the runner carpet. Before she could turn around, a hand clamped over her mouth and hauled her into the darkest part of the room.
“I beg of you, do not move, do not breathe, do not blink.”
BLITZ WIDE GIVEAWAY
To celebrate the release of THE MATCHMAKER’S SURRENDER by Tammy L Bailey, we’re giving away a $25 Amazon gift card to one lucky winner!
GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS: Open internationally. One winner will receive a $25 Amazon gift card. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Tammy L. Bailey. Giveaway ends 5/26/2019 @ 11:59pm EST. Author will deliver the prize to the winner directly.
ABOUT TAMMY L. BAILEY
A LEO wife, mother, and military veteran, Tammy began writing when the shows and movies she watched didn’t end the way she wanted them to end. Whether it’s historical or contemporary, for her, there must always be a happy ending.
When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with her husband and two boys near Cleveland, Ohio. Without their sacrifice and understanding, she believes she would have never been able to pursue her passion of writing or her accomplishment of becoming a published author.
Title: Taken by the Phantom
Author: Isabella King
Series: The Phantom of the Academy, #1
Publication date: May 16th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
I’ve never felt at home at Juilliard. My stagefright always makes me choke when I’m under the spotlight, to my classmates’ delight. But when I’m dragged into a new world, to a new school—where singing is more than a talent, it’s magic—I can’t hide my voice anymore. This new power is tempting, but terrifying forces swirl around the kingdom of Cantus. Missing girls, rivals at my new academy, Rebels, demons slaying people in the street—and it all leads back to him. The mysterious, powerful Phantom, who lurks beneath the opera school and demands he be my teacher—a demand which soon grows into something deeper, darker. But if I want to survive this place, or have any hope of going home, I may have no choice but to give in to him… and all he desires.
I appraise the Phantom of the Opera in shadow and light. For an eternity, he says nothing. Neither do I. There is no barrier between us, yet I can’t make myself move. I’m porcelain shot through with fissures—if he touches me I’ll shatter.
What if I want to?
Finally, he speaks. “Prima Donna.”
I stare at him. His one visible eye is dark, almost black. Set in his white face, against the pale of his mask, it is stark. Of course he is rendered in extremes. For the first time since our encounter here, he is less clothed than I am. He wears a white dress shirt, loose and open. He has a lovely body, finer even than it felt when pressed against mine. He’s more muscular than his tailored suits and sweeping cloaks would lead one to believe, with a sculpted chest, clear lines chiseled across his abdomen.
It’s then that I realize he is also young, probably only a few years older than me. If he were from my world, he might still be a student. He might go to Juilliard; an upperclassman who might tutor me or play me opposite in a musical.
Of course, in my world he probably wouldn’t wear a mask or live beneath an opera house.
He wouldn’t kill.
“I am not the Prima Donna,” I finally answer. My voice trembles, and I kick myself internally for showing even one crack in my facade. Still, neither of us have moved. I can see the hard plane of his stomach ripple when he breathes; his jaw is set, and a muscle ticks there. His hands are closed into tight fists. But he doesn’t move.
“Not yet.” At last: a step. I force myself not to retreat. “But after I am through with you…”
Through with me? Heat licks up the back of my neck. I’m grateful for the darkness. What would he make of me blushing? What do I make of me blushing? “Through with me?”
Another step. He’s framed in the doorway: a beautiful, horrifying portrait. Oils and lust and treachery all painted in broad strokes. “With my teaching.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re not serious.”
He takes another step. We are toe to toe, and it takes everything in me not to run screaming through the Hall of Mirrors. I’m such an idiot. What was I thinking, coming down here? Staying when Charlotte left? Singing for him?
The Phantom looks down his nose at me, lips parted. “Deadly so.”
I snort. Narrow my eyes. “Oh,” I say, “so you’re funny now?”
“I have always been in possession of quite a sense of humor, Krissy Davis.”
“Even while you killed them?”
He cocks his head, eyes flaring. I’ve pissed him off. Good.
He lifts his hand, no longer gloved, but bare and plain as any man’s. Not monstrous at all. My knees shake, and I hope he doesn’t see. He touches his fingers to my jaw, tender as he might a kitten’s belly.
“Especially,” he murmurs, his eyes on my mouth, “while I killed them.”
My short stories and articles have been traditionally published (under another name) but Amazon has given me the chance to venture into wildly different genres and my most recent titles have involved spanking and D/s relationships. My heroines are strong willed, intelligent women who battle against their need to submit to the dominant men in their lives. My stories are complex and filled with angst, turmoil and agonising twists of fate but a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ almost always have a happy ending.