Excerpt

My mind screamed for me to move. To fight the monster who trapped me with its arms. But my body remained paralyzed, a prisoner of flesh and bone. It wasn’t fear. I knew that much. Inside I was striking out with limbs, nails, and teeth. But any connection to actual movement was lost. My whole body felt like it was filled with cement.

Parted lips closed in on my neck. My eyes darted around, desperate to find a way out of this. Darkness stretched beyond the waning light of a naked bulb. There was a single door, then nothing but damp stone and shadow. The stink of death and decay hung thick in the air. Horror seeped through my veins.

There was nothing I could do. No way to stop this. No way to save my life.

The sound of labored breath rasped. Not my own. Not this monster’s. In the shadows it was impossible to see where it came from. Was someone watching? Fear snaked through my soul. The fear wasn’t for my own life, not really. I was afraid for someone else. But who?

Any thoughts vanished as fangs punctured my flesh. A gasp escaped my lips.

Flames bloomed from the punctures, swarming across my skin. The monster clutched my body tighter and tighter with every sickening gulp.

As the flames began to dull, my internal screams and my drive to fight faded. Without the current of blood filling my veins, violent shivers took hold of my entire body.

My body was giving up.

With shallow contractions, my heart slowed. My mind wavered as my body began to fail. The crushing pain of imminent death faded. As my eyes fluttered shut, a memory of the boy I loved floated across the backs of my eyelids. I saw his dejected expression. I felt the moment he had crushed me against his body, covering my lips with his. Then I heard the words he had spoken for the very first time. “Amelia, I love you.”

An icy tear escaped my eye. Now he would never know the truth. Never know that my feelings for him were still as irrefutable and irrevocable as ever. Never know that I would give anything just to be in his arms and feel the warmth of his kiss one last time. The realization was more agonizing than knowing my fate now, more agonizing than any lingering pain.

I love you too. The memory faded, dissipating like a cloud of smoke.

The room began to blur and spin. Unable to blink, my eyes stared up at the dusty light bulb. Blood loss pressed in on me. I was so deathly cold. The edge of my vision turned black, light being eaten away by a stain like blotted ink. Then empty darkness took hold.

This is it, I thought. I’m dying.

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Genre – YA Paranormal Romance

Rating – PG-13+

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Connect with  Jessica Myers on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://bloodboundnovels.com

Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.

* * * *

Three days after my father’s funeral, I landed at the airport in Denver. I rented a Jeep Wrangler, because I needed a four-wheel-drive vehicle to get up the mountain. The July weather was mild, so I wore khaki shorts, a plain white tee, and beige Vans sneakers.

One of the odd things about finding our cabin was you had to find the nearby town first. I remembered we got lost during our vacation, which caused an argument between my parents. Finding the road that led to the town was tricky, because there was only one accessible by vehicle, and there was no road sign. My father knew how to get there, because the person who sold him the cabin gave him a landmark. Luckily, he passed that information onto me during one of our conversations. Once you found the road, the town was so small that if you blinked, you’d drive right by it. When my mother said it was remote, she wasn’t being facetious.

I drove on the interstate for over an hour before I realized I missed my turn. I had to find a tree shaped like a wishbone—it was struck by lightning — but all the trees looked alike to me. It took another half-hour for me to turn around and make another attempt.

I found my landmark, but a tangle of fallen branches blocked the entrance. My hands gripped the steering wheel. I knew I was in for a bumpy ride. I floored the accelerator, and the Jeep broke through the roadblock. The road was narrow, and the terrain was rough. Whoever constructed it didn’t want people to travel on it. I screamed when tree branches appeared out of nowhere and banged against the windshield. The forest surrounded me on both sides, and I wondered if I’d ever reach the town.

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Genre – Paranormal Romance

Rating – Adult

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Connect with April Bostic on Goodreads

Website http://www.aprilbostic.com/

Young American painter Theodora Faraday struggles to become an artist in Belle Époque Paris. She’s tasted the champagne of success, illustrating poems for the Revenants, a group of poets led by her adored cousin, Averill. When children she knows vanish mysteriously, Theo confronts Inspecteur Michel Devaux who suspects the Revenants are involved. Theo refuses to believe the killer could be a friend—could be the man she loves. Classic detection and occult revelation lead Michel and Theo through the dark underbelly of Paris, from catacombs to asylums, to the obscene ritual of a Black Mass. Following the maze of clues they discover the murderer believes he is the reincarnation of the most evil serial killer in the history of France—Gilles de Rais. Once Joan of Arc’s lieutenant, after her death he plunged into an orgy of evil. The Church burned him at the stake for heresy, sorcery, and the depraved murder of hundreds of peasant children. Whether deranged mind or demonic passion incite him, the killer must be found before he strikes again.

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Genre – Historical Mystery

Rating – R

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Chapter Two

Hell, yes, I’m home and I have a few days off. I’m heading straight to my apartment. I’ll get my bike and ride over to see Loco, he thinks. He stops for a moment and contemplates his surroundings. Yeah, this is another world and it’s my world now.

He takes a taxi to his small one bedroom apartment. Yeah, my apartment is small because I live alone. No need in living with a roommate and especially a woman. I’m hardly ever home. I love it here on the west coast, close to every type of entertainment.

I love living in Huntington Beach and near the ocean. I love the ocean. Loco lives near the ocean, but down a few cities. Yeah, this is awesome! The day is beautiful and I’m going to ride my sweet bike, he thinks.

He grabs his keys, locks up his apartment, and jumps down the side rail. He lands on the ground floor. Nathan quickly strides to the garage and directly to his bike. He throws his duffle bag in the saddle bag.

Ok, now I’m forgetting the last 48 hours and enjoying my time off, he thinks.

Roberto Daniel De Leon has been striving to be the best in every aspect that involves his dream. He stands tall and proud at six feet two with a very hard, developed, muscular body. There’s no way that you’ll not notice his physical assets.

He walks out of his apartment and to the parking garage. He stops and looks towards the ocean. Roberto takes a deep breath, closing his beautiful smoky quartz brown eyes fringed with long black eyelashes. Yeah, now it’s time to have fun, he thinks.

Roberto walks up to his bike, smiling. Oh, damn yes, I love riding my bike.

He hears a soft tap, only one sound. He stops, slowly turns around, pulling out his Glock.

“Damn, guey (asshole)!! I almost shot you,” yells Loco. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Yeah, asshole, glad that you’re not slacking off,” replies Ghost.

Roberto walks over to his buddy Jackson. His name is Nathan Jackson. He is called the Ghost because you hardly ever know he’s around, muses Roberto.

Ghost walks so silently, and it seems that he hardly breathes. I find it kind of amusing when I see him in action. I would never believe that such a huge man can move so silently, quickly and barely breathes, thinks Loco, amused.

Ghost is six feet five inches. He’s a huge son of a bitch. He can be as mean as a man can get when dealing with the scum of the earth. Ghost has a very light skin tone and has incredible pale blue eyes. So I think Ghost fits him in so many areas, muses Loco.

Roberto walks up to Ghost and gives him a huge bear hug. He slaps his back with joy. “Damn, I missed you, guey!” yells Roberto, grinning.

“Yeah, Loco, that’s why I’m here. Why not hang out and enjoy our few days off,” replies Ghost, in a soft low tone. 

Ghost is wearing black leather pants and a black leather jacket with black t-shirt. He has a black scarf wrapped on his short blond locks. He wears black biker boots. You know he’s carrying.

He slowly grins, flashing his dimples. That’s the only feature that Ghost has that’s soft.

“So, you’re game to cause some hell tonight,” whispers Ghost. His pale blue eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Oh, damn, hell yes!” yells Roberto. He walks towards Ghost’s new bike to check it out. “Sweet, real sweet, it’s awesome.”

“I love the black metallic with the silver sparkles,” says Ghost. He speaks low and softly, almost like a whisper. He has a soft southern drawl. “Loco, your people’s suggestions and the investments that I made paid off. Those investments are awesome.”

“Yeah, they’re great and I’m set,” replies Loco, nodding.

“Loco, let’s go get some food, beer, and some warm comfort,” says Nathan.

“Let’s go, that’s exactly what I planned,” replies Roberto, grinning.

Roberto and Nathan walk into the club after having dinner down the street. They look hot and swagger into the club with a confident stride. They’re a pair of hot, sexy, bad boys walking into the club to have some fun.

“Oh, yeah,” says Nathan, looking around. Yes, this is hot. I always wanted to check out a Latino club. Oh yeah, he thinks.

“Let’s get some tequila shots!” says Roberto. He strolls to the bar. He reaches it and turns to look at Nathan.

Nathan is following Roberto, turning to look at the band. “Wow, sorry,” says Nathan, to the cute Latina that he just bumped into.

His voice is low and sexy. He gazes into the cute chica’s amazing huge brown eyes. He quickly grasps her waist with his hands to prevent her from falling. He unconsciously pulls her a little closer.

Andréa runs into Ghost, she quickly grasps his arms to stop her fall. She stares up into Ghost’s beautiful, pale blue eyes. Her eyes open wide with surprise and amazement. Oh, dios mio (oh my god), this is one huge white boy, she thinks. She holds onto his huge muscled arms.

“Please, excuse me! I wasn’t looking,” says Ghost. Damn! I’m scaring this beautiful girl, he thinks. I better let her go.

Andréa breaks into a huge warm smile. She gazes up at him, not releasing her hold. “Hi, I’m ok. No worries,” replies Andréa.

Ghost gazes into her beautiful eyes and starts to smile. Wow, she’s not scared, he thinks. She’s really beautiful.

Oh wow, he’s so guapo (handsome), huge, and has awesome dimples. I think I like everything about this white boy, thinks Andréa. Oh yeah, I especially love his southern drawl.

She tilts her head slightly, to inspect his side view. Oh, yes, he’s totally what I like. I love his beautiful pale blue eyes, thinks Andréa.

She steps a little closer to slide her hands up to his shoulders. “I would love to dance,” says Andréa. She gazes into his beautiful blue eyes, reaching his soul.

Ghost gazes into her eyes. I can see her beautiful soul. Yes, I can feel her soul connect to mine. Oh damn, hell yes. I’m dancing this slow dance with this girl, he thinks. “Ah, you would like to dance?” asks Nathan. He leans down a little to whisper in her ear. He feels her tremble.

“Yes,” replies Andréa. She gazes into his beautiful face.

Ghost releases her and takes one of her hands. He leads the way to the dance floor. Oh, damn yes, I love this slow song, he thinks.

He pulls her into his arms. He encircles her waist, pulling her close to him. He inhales her incredible scent. Oh, she smells amazing, he thinks. 

Andréa puts her hands on his strong wide shoulders. She gazes up into his eyes. She smiles, slowly moving her arms up his shoulders. “I’m Andréa Martinez,” says Andréa.

“It’s nice to meet you, Andréa. I’m Nathan Jackson,” he replies, softly near her ear. Oh yeah, she’s sweet, sexy, and hot, he thinks.

Damn it! Now what? I know that he likes her. I think that I’m on my own now, thinks Roberto.

He sucks the lemon and salt. He then throws back his head, drinking the tequila shot.

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Genre – Romantic Suspense

Rating – PG13

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Website http://ptmacias.com/

A fun and heartwarming holiday romance.

When fate keeps throwing a handsome good Samaritan in her path, musician Faith Leary needs a little holiday magic to help her see he’s perfect for her.

A musician and a priest walk into a grocery store—singer Faith Leary thinks this is a better opening for an off-color joke than a recipe for romance, until she finds herself ogling Father Michael in the checkout line the day before Thanksgiving.

When Father Michael first steps in to bail Faith out of her financial jam, Faith thinks she’s being picked up at the grocery store. Right up until she catches sight of the black shirt and tab collar. Since not much in her life is going her way lately, it doesn’t come as much of a shock when Michael turns up at her mother’s Thanksgiving dinner. What does come as a surprise is the attraction that springs up between them. If only he weren't a priest, he would be perfect for her.

Faith’s sister finds Father Michael attractive, too, and she’s making no bones about it. Scenes from the Thorn Birds flitting through her head, it comes as a relief to Faith to find out Michael is not exactly what he seems. It’s good news until she realizes her sister is a far better match for him than her screw-up self could ever be. But if that’s true, why does Michael insist on seeing only the good in Faith, no matter how often she falls short of her too perfect sister?

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Genre - Contemporary Holiday Romance

Rating – PG

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Connect with Amy Lamont on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://amylamont.com

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A stark dystopian world of insatiable greed and ceaseless distraction is that of young Gustav Klein, a German twenty-three-year-old who has just sold his hotel in Munich. He is looking for nothing more than escape. The modern gadgets which flash their endless advertisements are locking society inside brick houses, allowing them to be dumbed-down further by the money-hungry gremlins in the high towers. Gustav Klein, meanwhile, begins a journey over the myriad terrains of Europe, through countless bottles on the corner of morbid winter streets, coloured by the peculiar characters he encounters, some who bestow upon him their wisdom, some who fuel his disdain, some who ignite his desires, and some who merely drink with him until they hit the floor in a merry temperament. But the hedonistic, aimless rambling must come to end, for life calls. And Gustav lands on a mountain in Scotland, searching for release, for total nature, untouched by the destructive hand of man. But, it seems, it is too late… In this harrowing tale of youthful rebellion, dark nihilism on the road, heavy drinking beatniks, political adversity and the capricious desires of the gluttonous modern man, the reader is taken by the hand firmly and hauled into a bleak world where every man lives for himself. Close your eyes if you are scared, but you cannot escape.

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Genre – Travel, Political, Dystopia, Romance

Rating – PG15

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Connect with Elliot C. Mason on Facebook & Twitter

Chapter Three

Max

12 March 1912, London ENGLAND

Maxwell Ingham stared out of his office window at busy Fleet Street below. He loved the cacophony of noise that modern man in his industry could create – the mechanical hum of the automobiles, as they rumbled down the street honking their horns at horse and wagons that might delay or block their passage. Many a flighty horse took exception to this noise and would rear and buck in complaint. People of all classes hurried along the pathways and crossed the thoroughfares at random, often inadvertently walking in front of the speeding vehicles. Yelling and shaking fists would accompany those near misses. It was organised chaos, and he loved it.

His eye was drawn from the general to the specific, as he caught a glimpse of a young woman dressed fashionably in a navy skirt and jacket with a white blouse adorned with a large, floppy bow at its high neckline. A hat, a monstrous navy affair that was utterly impractical for the busy streets, shielded her face. However, when she paused to look up at the second and third stories of the buildings on his side of the road, he gained a much better impression of her appearance.

Her face was pale, milky white with huge eyes and small, upturned nose. Red lips were bowed in a delighted smile as her elegant, gloved hands crossed over heart, as if to keep the organ from jumping out of her chest. She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties, but there was an air of child-like enthusiasm that belied that age. What little hair was visible beneath the hat was black and wavy, framing her oval face and softening the sharp lines of the outrageous creation on her head.

For the full time he stared at her, he couldn’t seem to draw breath. It wasn’t until she dropped her head, hurried across the road, dodging horse-drawn and horseless carriages alike, and disappeared somewhere beneath him that he felt his breathing return to normal.

‘Maxwell, Darling, what do you think?’ A strident voice jarred him from his strange reaction and drew his eye. Coming across the room toward him was his wife, Agnes, dressed in a sunshine yellow day-dress that quite blinded him with its brightness. It was a wrap-around affair, somewhat oriental in design, with a wide, darkly patterned border that crossed over her bird-like figure.

‘About what, my dear?’ he inquired, knowing exactly what, but wanting to give himself a moment to come up with a suitably diplomatic comment.

‘Why, my dress, silly. Do you like it? My couturier tells me it is the latest thing from the continent, and I plan to wear it to the Royal International Horticultural Exhibition in May. I am taking a risk that no one of any influence will see me in it today. Nevertheless, I just had to show you immediately.’

The small woman pivoted to display her gown and large floral hat. Her mouse-like features broke into a winsome smile.

‘You will turn many an eye, my dear. The flowers will pale into insignificance beside you.’ He spoke the truth, as was his way, but he disguised his thoughts within the effusion of his words, as only a man of the law could do. In truth, she looked hideous, but he had learned early on in their relationship that Agnes did not want to hear the truth. She wanted to mould it to suit herself, and that was what he allowed her to do with his words now.

She blushed coquettishly and giggled. ‘Oh Maxwell, I knew you would love it. Matilda Robson was not so complimentary. But then she is not up with the latest haute de couture, so I dismissed her opinion immediately. You, on the other hand, dear husband, are a man of taste and refinement. I knew you would see its value.’

‘My tastes run to more simplistic and conservative designs, but I do value the unconventional when it is aesthetically pleasing to the eye.’

Agnes smiled sweetly, bowing her head as if accepting another compliment. Then she sighed deeply and waited for him to ask what was wrong.

Obediently, he asked on cue, ‘My dear, what troubles you?’

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Genre – Romance

Rating – Between PG13 and R (sensual but not erotic)

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Connect with Nhys Glover on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://nhysglover.com/