NEW RELEASE – Michael’s Soul Mate

michaels-soul-mate-blitz-banner

Michael’s Soul Mate: A Steamy BBW Vampire Romance

by Lorelei Moone
Vampires of London, #2
Publication Date: November 26, 2016
Genres: Adult, Paranormal Romance, BBW, Erotic, Romance

michaels-soul-mate-cover

BUY:

Amazon (#FREE with #KindleUnlimited): https://amzn.to/2drYuVk

Synopsis: Some vampires have trouble figuring out how they want to spend eternity, but playboy Michael Odell isn’t one of them. He knows exactly what he wants: fine wines and beautiful women fuel his passion and he’s made it his mission to sample as many of either as he can. Fate has other ideas. One night, on his way home, Michael discovers a woman lying face-down in an alley, who is losing the fight to live. There’s only one way of saving her: The Ritual. Little does Michael know that this little act of mercy is going to change his life forever and before long he finds himself falling for the curvy stranger.

Anna doesn’t remember how she ended up discarded at death’s door in a dark alley, only that she woke up there. She doesn’t even know her last name. After coming face-to-face with her gorgeous rescuer, she passes out again and finds herself in a lavish mansion with a new lease on eternal life.

Who – or more importantly, what – is she now? And the people who tried to kill her – why were they after her? Anna is determined to figure it all out for herself. But before her questions are answered, she has to learn that even in this new immortal existence, it’s good to have friends – and perhaps a lover – by your side.

goodreads-badge-add-38px
michaels-soul-mate-3d-kindle-graphic

EXCERPT

Michael buttoned up his woolen overcoat as he stepped outside. It was a starless night; the dense cloud cover had made sure of that. There was a certain electricity in the air, which to him suggested it might be about to start snowing.

Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Yes, something was definitely coming. Could that be what had made him feel off for most of the night?

The frosty air surrounding the bar he’d just left seemed heavy with a great many aromas. Things that humans might never notice; for example, the scent of what remained of the fallen autumn leaves from that one tree down the street.

Michael turned to face the opposite direction. Chinatown was at least a mile away, but he could smell the restaurants from here.

He was tempted to stretch his legs a little and sprint home as fast as only a vampire could, but the roads were still too busy. He couldn’t risk someone watching him as he seemingly disappeared into thin air. The Council didn’t take kindly to vampires exposing themselves to humans at the best of times. Ever since the big showdown between Michael’s friend and mentor Alexander and Council leader Julius, they’d been under extra scrutiny. Julius would jump at the chance to punish Michael for supporting Alexander.

Things had really changed a lot in a short period of time, and not entirely for the better.

Michael opened his eyes again, resigned to the fact that he would either have to hail a cab or walk home at an excruciatingly slow, much more human-like pace.

He started to walk roughly in the direction of Hyde Park. If he found a quiet spot, he might still indulge himself in a little fun. As he crossed the busy street ahead, his nose caught a whiff of something unexpected, something metallic.

Blood.

His instincts took over. He turned on his heel and sped up a little as he followed the smell. A low whimper urged him to speed up even further, but he couldn’t risk going any faster if he didn’t want to make a spectacle of himself.

There was a dark passageway in between two large office buildings. He made his way through and found himself in a quiet courtyard, which housed a number of large garbage bins. A woman’s foot peeked out from in between them. No human would have been able to see it in the dark, but Michael could.

Her breaths were labored and becoming shallower, and her heartbeat was slowing. Michael pushed one of the bins aside and kneeled beside the woman, who lay face-down on the ground.

It was obvious to him now; she was barely clinging on to life. He carefully turned her onto her back. Her lips had a purple tinge and her skin looked dry and unusually pale for a human.

The two dark marks on her neck spoke volumes.

She’d been drained.

For but a split second, her eyelids fluttered open. She seemed to see him and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Then she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Michael tensed up. He ought to leave, pretend he never found her. The last thing he needed was for someone to find him here, standing over a dying woman who had clearly been attacked by one of his own. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

How pretty she was, how fragile, as she clung to her last shred of humanity.

Why had she ended up like this? Killing was against the rules. And discarding a drained body out in public where it could so easily be discovered? That was sacrilege.

His mind raced. Too many questions, not enough answers.

Michael gazed down at her face; the slightly parted lips, despite their unnatural color, still looked full and luxurious. As did the rest of her, actually. She made a beautiful corpse. Such a waste. This woman would have been a sight to behold before someone had decided to take her life for themselves.

He ran the back of his index finger along the side of her face. She twitched slightly, seemingly in reaction to his touch, causing him to pull away again.

No, he would not leave her, discarded among these bins of office refuse. This wasn’t the end she deserved.

Michael closed his eyes and tried to focus. Her heartbeat had become irregular, as though her body was giving up the fight. If he didn’t hurry, there wouldn’t be any life left to save.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, Michael nicked a vein in his wrist and pressed the newly created wound against her lips.

“Drink,” he whispered.

She was too far out of it, so he couldn’t compel her to listen, but that wouldn’t stop him.

Then, he picked up one of her arms and brought it to his own lips. He waited for what felt like forever. Was she too far gone already?

“Drink or you’ll die!” he urged again, fully aware she likely couldn’t even hear him.

Still, as more and more of his blood trickled out of the gash in his wrist, there was a subtle change in her. Her heartbeat seemed to strengthen. Her breaths became more controlled.

And then, out of nowhere, her free hand jerked up to grab his wrist and press it tightly against her mouth. Finally, she drank in deep gulps as her body tried to recover what it had lost.

That was his cue.

He bit into the wrist he’d been holding already and allowed himself the smallest of tastes. That completed the cycle. The Ritual was done.

She became still again and let go of his arm, her hand flopping down onto her stomach. Her eyes had remained shut throughout; she probably hadn’t even realized what had just happened.

He’d barely realized it too; he’d been acting purely on instinct. Now, as he stood up and inspected the smeared blood on his wrist, it hit him. He’d performed the Ritual. He’d created another vampire—tried to, anyway.

That was something he’d vowed he’d never take as lightly as his own maker had.

She wasn’t out of the woods yet; in fact, he wouldn’t know if she’d even survive the change until the following night, but for some strange reason, he’d jumped in and impulsively made the biggest decision of his immortal life so far.

Things would never be the same again.

michaels-soul-mate-3d-kindle-graphic

IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR ANOTHER SEXY VAMPIRE WHO FINDS HIS FOREVER MATE, DON’T MISS ALEXANDER’S BLOOD BRIDE, BOOK #1 IN THE STEAMY VAMPIRES OF LONDON SERIES!

Alexander's Blood Bride Cover

BUY:

Amazon (#FREE with #KindleUnlimited): https://amzn.to/2dYsy9u
Audio (Amazon): https://amzn.to/2gik6SD

Synopsis: Cat has never been a social butterfly. The only reason she even agreed to go to the stupid Halloween party was because her friend and room mate Shelly wanted to attend. When she gets spooked upon almost falling into bed with the host, she’s convinced it was all a big mistake. And what’s worse, now people are stalking her wherever she goes!

Alexander Broderick has been hosting his annual Halloween parties for over a century. While his contemporaries use them as an excuse to engage in all kinds of debauchery, his own motives are more benign. He wants to converse, to get a feel for the times they live in through its people. But when Cat walks into his house, he forgets himself and is compelled to seduce her. There’s only one problem: she’s a so-called Blood Bride – a mortal woman whose blood smells so delicious that every vampire in town wants to drain her.

He knows he’s the only one wanting to keep her safe, but can’t act as long as she wants nothing to do with him. And then there’s his own growing hunger to contend with. Can he protect her from the rest of the vampire community, as well as his own lethal cravings?

It’s the ultimate forbidden romance; the love between a mortal and a vampire. What is it that makes flirting with death so utterly tempting? Read on and find out.

goodreads-badge-add-38px

ABOUT LORELEI MOONE

Lorelei Moone

Lorelei Moone is an up-and-coming author of paranormal romance based in London. A lover of all things sweet, and caffeinated, when she’s not writing about sexy bear shifters and their strong-willed curvaceous love interests, Lorelei can be found baking cookies or cakes for her family.

WebsiteFacebookTwitter NewsletterGoodreadsAmazon Author ProfileBookbub

ENTER THE GIVEAWAY

michaels-soul-mate-giveaway-graphic

a Rafflecopter giveaway

IndieSageBlogger

Comments Off on NEW RELEASE – Michael’s Soul Mate

Filed under BOOKS, NEW RELEASE

Solstice Blitz

soltice blitz banner

soltice cover
YA Science-fiction/ Romance
Date Published: November 25th, 2016
What You Believe, Can Destroy You!
William and Sydney have sacrificed everything to fortify their love, so much so that William dares to brave the depths of space to find a cure for their deadly Supernova bond, leaving both her and Earth vulnerable to Torrian Alliance attack. But with a full scale rebellion in play on Fabricius, the reality of Sydney’s execution from Torrian hands is diminished, only eclipsed by the certainty of a more threats – The Third Faction and The Dagmas Clan – lead by Dominic and his insurgent recruits. With overwhelming odds mounting against them, William makes a desperate attempt to find the last of the endangered Star-children only to be captured by a new menace, where he is forced to compete in the dreaded Gauntlet of sport. Allies surge to free Fabricius, seeking alliances across the galaxy while Sydney tries to keep her identity hidden and trains to master the third phase of her Star-child evolution: Solstice. With Sarah’s mysterious return home with clues to unlock the future, Noella’s training and Bill’s symbiotic development hope is restored, but will it be enough to unite the galaxy and destroy evil for once and for all?
Series Order
Supernova
Solstice
Protostar
About the Author
Multi-Award Winning and #1 Amazon Bestselling author Braxton A. Cosby is a dreamer who transitioned his ideas on pen and paper to pixels and keyboards. He tells stories that evoke emotions and stimulate thought. PROTOSTAR: BOOK 1 OF THE STARCROSSED SAGA and THE SECT: THE WINDGATE are currently Young Adult/New Adult series he created. He has written over 10 novels, including his new Superhero adventure book, THE CAPE is book three of the Dark Spores Series. He lives in Georgia with his amazing wife and a highly energetic Morkie named StarKozy.
Contact Links
Twitter: @BraxtonACosby
Purchase Link
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on Solstice Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!

thanksgiving-picture

Well my friends, I am wishing everyone a safe and blessed Thanksgiving!!!

Comments Off on HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!

Filed under BOOKS

Welcome to the Family Blitz

welcome to the family cover

 

Romantic Suspense
Date Published:  November 9, 2016

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Raised in a dysfunctional family, Cassandra Devlyn Ferguson has tried to leave the past behind and carve out a new life with her husband, former Black Ops specialist, Sean Ferguson. Her family’s shady business dealings never involved her, and she intends to keep it that way.
Sean wants nothing more than to be a devoted, loving husband. But his new job sends him to the front lines at some of the world’s most dangerous spots. For years, he’s blamed his Irish wanderlust for the risks, but the truth is ‘ he enjoys the rush of adrenaline danger brings. When the Devlyn family’s mistakes come looking for Cassie, it’s up to Sean to bring her home safely.
The one positive? Cassie knows all about her family’s true nature and is willing to walk away from everything to stay with him. The negative? Someone wants them dead and will stop at nothing to keep all the skeletons in the closet.

About the Author

Born in the North, raised in the South, Nancy S Reece grew up surrounded by books. Now living with three horses, three dogs, three cats, two children, and one very supportive spouse, when she isn’t writing, Nancy can be found wandering old abandoned buildings looking for inspiration.
Contact Links
 
Purchase Links
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on Welcome to the Family Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS

The Little Voice Blitz

the little voice banner

the little voice cover
Psychological Realism / Contemporary / Literary Fiction
Date Published: 23rd November 2016

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

“Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?”
Dear reader,
My character has been shaped by two opposing forces; the pressure to conform to social norms, and the pressure to be true to myself. To be honest with you, these forces have really torn me apart. They’ve pulled me one way and then the other. At times, they’ve left me questioning my whole entire existence.
But please don’t think that I’m angry or morose. I’m not. Because through adversity comes knowledge. I’ve suffered, it’s true. But I’ve learnt from my pain. I’ve become a better person.
Now, for the first time, I’m ready to tell my story. Perhaps it will inspire you. Perhaps it will encourage you to think in a whole new way. Perhaps it won’t. There’s only one way to find out…
Enjoy the book,
Yew Shodkin
Excerpt
ONE

It was my sixth birthday when the little voice first spoke to me.
Please do understand, dear reader, that it wasn’t an abstract little voice. Oh no! It belonged to a little creature who lived inside my brain. But that creature had not, up until that point, ever said a word.
That creature wasn’t human. Far from it! Although its eyes were identical to my own.
If I’m to be totally honest, I must admit that I’m not exactly sure what it was. I’ve always just called it ‘The Egot’.
The egot’s skin was as red as hellfire, its hair was as bright as the midday sun, and its belly was as round as a pearl. It had webbed feet, elfish ears and lithe claws. I assumed it was male, but it could’ve been female; it was impossible to tell.
Yet, despite its peculiar appearance, I felt comfortable whenever I saw the egot. It possessed a powerful sort charisma which always put me at ease. It’d lift its flat cap, bend one of its spiky knees, and wink in a way which made its eye sparkle. Just seeing the egot made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
The egot was familiar. It was a part of the scenery of my mind. My companion. My friend.
But it had never spoken. Not until the day I turned six.
I was at school when it happened, sitting at the set of desks which I shared with five other pupils. The waxy floor was illuminated by white light. The smell of pencil shavings wafted through the air.
Our teacher, Ms Brown, was standing at the front of that prefabricated space. She was scratching a tiny nub of chalk along an indifferent blackboard.
“As soon as those brave explorers stepped foot on that distant land, they
were attacked by a group of wild savages,” she told the class through a cloud of chalk dust.
“Ooh! Ooh!” screamed Snotty McGill.
I liked Snotty McGill. I liked all the children in my class. Back then, I think we all just tacitly assumed that we were equal. That we were all in the same boat. We didn’t really think about our different genders, races or classes. We just co- existed, like one big family.
I think Snotty McGill was actually called Sarah, but we called her ‘Snotty’ because she always had a cold. An hour seldom passed in which she didn’t either sneeze, pick her nose, or wipe a bogie onto her snot-encrusted sleeve. But she had such a lovely colour. That pink glow which comes with the flu used to engulf her like an aura. It suited her. She always looked so damn effervescent.
Anyway, as I was saying, Snotty McGill was waving her hand above her head.
“Ms! Ms!” she called. “What’s a ‘savage’?”
Ms Brown turned to face us. She looked chalky. Everything around her looked chalky. The floor was covered in chalk-dust and the skirting-boards were covered in chalky-ashes. Chalk residue glistened in Ms Brown’s bushy hair. It coated the points of her fingers.
“Well,” she said. “A savage has the body of a man, but not his civility. A savage is like an animal. He doesn’t wear clothes, live in a house, study or work. He follows his base urges; to eat, drink and reproduce. But he doesn’t have an intellect. He doesn’t have any ambition. He’s smelly, hairy and uncouth. He does the least he can to survive. And he spends most of his time sleeping or playing.”
Snotty McGill looked horrified. As did Stacey Fairclough, Sleepy Sampson and Gavin Gillis. Chubby Smith looked like he was about to start a fight. Most of the class looked dumbfounded. But I felt inspired.
‘They don’t have to go to school!’ I thought with envy and intrigue. ‘They spend all their time playing! They sleep for as long as they like!’
It was as if I’d stumbled across a species of super-humans. To me, the savages sounded like gods. I knew at once that I wanted to be one. I’d never been so sure of anything in my life.
The egot smiled mischievously. It rolled a whisker between its skeletal claws and tapped one of its webbed feet.
Ms Brown continued:
“Well, when the explorers stepped ashore, a pack of savages came hurtling towards them; swinging through the trees like monkeys, beating their breasts like apes, and howling like donkeys. They flocked like birds and stampeded through the dust like a herd of untamed wildebeests.”
That was when the egot spoke for the first time.
It leaned up against the inside of my skull, just behind my nose, and crossed its spindly legs. Then it began to talk:
“If you want to be a savage, you should probably act like a savage. You know, you should probably stampede like a wildebeest. Maybe beat your breast like an ape. Perhaps you’d like to howl like a donkey? Yes, yes.”
The egot’s voice was so… so… so… So far beyond description. So subtle. So calm. So quirky. So eccentric. And so, so quiet!
The egot accentuated random letters, as if it was shocked to discover their existence. It swilled its words, like a Frenchman mulling over a glass of confused wine. And it stretched random syllables, as if it was saddened to see them go.
There was a certain melody to the egot’s voice. It didn’t so much speak as rhyme, like a Shakespearean actor on a crisp autumn night.
But the egot was quiet. Its voice was such a little voice.  A little voice inside my head.
That little voice struck me dumb.
The egot strummed its lip, like a pensive philosopher, and waited for me to reply. But I was in a state of paralytic shock. I couldn’t have replied if I’d wanted to. So the egot folded its arms, in a gesture of mock offence, and then continued on:
“I’m only telling you what you want to hear,” it purred. It swirled the word ‘telling’ so much that the ‘ell’ sound reverberated five times; ‘Tell-ell-ell-ell-ell-ell-ing’.
“You don’t really want to succumb to civility. No, no. You want to be a savage. I think you want to jump between tables, like a monkey swinging between trees. If you thought you could get away with it, and no-one was judging you, you wouldn’t think twice.”
It was a moment of clarity. Bright white, unadulterated clarity. Silent. Outside of time and space.
Please do allow me to explain…
I’m a big fan of the founder of Taoism, the ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu. He was a wizened old gent. His hair was as white as virgin snow and his eyes were deeper than any ocean on earth.
Well, Lao Tzu once said that ‘Knowing others is wisdom. Knowing yourself is enlightenment’.
Dear reader, that’s exactly how I felt! In that moment, I felt that I ‘knew’ myself. In that moment, I felt ‘enlightened’.
Everything was clear. It was clear that I’d been living in a cage. It was clear that freedom was mine to take. It was clear what I had to do. The egot was my clarity. Everything was clear.
I remember a sense of otherworldliness, as if I’d stepped outside of the physical realm. My legs lifted my torso, my frame stood tall, and my spirit stood still. My body melted away from my control.
I watched on as it broke free. As it leapt up onto our shared desk. As it pounded its breast like a valiant ape. And as it puffed its chest like a swashbuckling superhero.
The faint sound of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony started to fill my ears. Delicate violin strings provided a melodic backdrop for the ballet which was unravelling onstage.
My body performed a pirouette.
White paper rose up beneath my feet and span around my shins like froth on a choppy ocean.
I felt an all-encompassing surge of bliss.
One leg rose up in front of my body, forming a sharp arrow which pointed out towards an adjacent desk. I held that position perfectly still, whilst lifting my chin with a pompous sort of grace. Then I leapt like a spring deer, in slow motion, with one leg pointing forward and the other one darting back.
Beethoven’s Ninth sounded glorious as it purred through the gears. Violas joined violins and cellos joined those violas. Double basses began to hum and flutes began to whistle.
I landed with my feet together; an angel of the air, a demon of the sea. My mind floated atop an infinite ocean.
My legs leapt on through the infinite air. They bounded from table to table with ever-increasing speed; gaining momentum, gaining height. I could see my monkey soul. I could hear the monkey calls which were emanating from my open mouth.
I could hear Beethoven’s Ninth reach its first crescendo, as the brass section began its battle cry. Flutes became one with clarinets. Bassoons boomed. Trumpets and horns squealed with uncontrollable delight.
I howled like a donkey at the moment of sexual climax. My lungs filled with pure spirit.
I landed on all fours, looking like a bison. My shoulders were bulging out of my back and my temples were as erect as horns.
I leapt like a giant frog. And I stampeded between desks like a herd of untamed wildebeests; leaving a trail of overturned chairs, twisted students and miscellaneous debris in my wake.
Beethoven’s Ninth called out for redemption, glory and release. It was an impassioned cry. It was a fury-filled yell.
“Yew! Yew! Yew!” Ms Brown yelled. “Yew! Yew! Yew!”
Ms Brown had been yelling since the moment I stood up. But I’d been on a different plane. I hadn’t heard a thing.
My teacher’s voice pierced my ether, burst my euphoria, and threw me down amongst the shards of my shattered pride. To my left; a small calculator bled black ink, a wonky table rocked back and forth like a sober addict, and a potted plant spewed crumbs of soil all across the vinyl flooring. To my right; Aisha Ali was crying into her collar, Tina Thompson was rubbing her shin, and Chubby Smith was holding his belly.
“Yew! Yew! Yew!” Ms Brown yelled.
(I’m called Yew by the way. I think I forgot to mention that).
“Yew! What on earth do you think you’re doing? What’s come over you? I,I, I…”
Ms Brown choked on her words, lifted a hand to her throat, coughed up some chalk-dust, and then gulped down a stodgy chunk of passive air.
She shook her head.
“You’re usually such a good boy!”
She exhaled.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever came over you? Look at this place! Just look at this place! I… I… I just can’t believe it! Oh my.”
I looked around.
The debris of my liberation assaulted my torrid eyes. The disgrace of my emancipation flushed through my dusty veins. And my glorious body became a tepid vase for the desert’s tears.
“I’m not angry,” Ms Brown sighed. “I’m just disappointed.”
That hurt. It hurt a lot.
I was fond of Ms Brown. She was such a sweet person. She was warm. So her disappointment really cut through me.
It was a heavy sort of disappointment; weighed down by the burden of expectation and the gravity of my situation. And it was an overpowering sort of disappointment. It pinned me to the floor.
My world inverted. Ignorance replaced enlightenment. Darkness replaced light. Density replaced levity.
My euphoria was usurped by a deathly sort of anxiety, which shook me from side to side and made me shiver to the core. Beethoven’s Ninth was snuffed out by the booming of my incessant heart. I was sucked down into a black-hole at the centre of my being; paralysed by my teacher’s disappointment and frozen by my own sense of fear. I felt trapped, small and base.
“Disappointed,” Ms Brown repeated. “Yew! That’s not how you’re supposed to behave. That’s not what society expects of you.”
Ms Brown shook her head, which caused chalk-dust to float up into the air. It glistened in the bright-white light. It sparkled.
Ms Brown tutted.
Then she sent me to see the headmaster.
About the Author

Joss Sheldon is a scruffy nomad, unshaven layabout, and good for nothing hobo. Born in 1982, he was brought up in one of the anonymous suburbs which wrap themselves around London’s beating heart. And then he escaped!
With a degree from the London School of Economics to his name, Sheldon had spells selling falafel at music festivals, being a ski-bum, and failing to turn the English Midlands into a haven of rugby league.
Then, in 2013, he went to McLeod Ganj in India; a village which plays home to thousands of angry monkeys, hundreds of Tibetan refugees, and the Dalai Lama himself. It was there that Sheldon wrote his first novel, ‘Involution & Evolution’.
With several positive reviews to his name, Sheldon had caught the writing bug. So he travelled around Palestine and Kurdistan before writing his second novel, ‘Occupied’; a dystopian ‘masterpiece’ unlike any other story you’ve ever read!
Now Joss has returned with his third, and most radical novel yet. ‘The Little Voice’ takes a swipe at the external forces which come to shape our personalities. It’s psychological. And it will make you think about the world in a whole new way. As the Huffington Post put it, The Little Voice is probably “The most thought-provoking novel of 2016″…
Contact Links
Purchase Links
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on The Little Voice Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS