M&D's Have You Read Book Blog

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Tour Stop for "Indulging in Irelyn" by D.L. Raver

NFL quarterback, Zolt Hamil was America’s heartthrob until a career ending injury changed his life. Years later, he’s picked up the pieces and carved out a new path for himself. But the mental and physical scars of that day have left him moody and reclusive, and his only relief is indulging in pleasure and pain with his many one night stands. Though many of women have tried, Zolt refuses to care about any of them. Only one woman has his heart; a hallucination of a young, sable-eyed, blonde beauty whom he conjured that painful day on the football field.
On the first day at his new job at a law firm in Scottsdale, Arizona, Zolt comes face to face with his hallucination, Irelyn Wilkes. Their fateful connection, and explosive passion for each other pulls them together, and this time, Zolt refuses to let her slip from his life.
But Irelyn has her own demons to fight, and her controlling boyfriend is one of them. He doesn't take kindly to other people playing with his toys, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her by his side. 
Can Irelyn and Zolt defy the odds and find a way to be together? Or, will the events set in motion years ago keep them apart forever?
New Adult. Recommended for eighteen and above due to adult content, language, and sexual situations.









Chapter One: Shadow-Self
Zolt
I ran my hand along her naked arm as I moved toward the bindings that had her securely
fastened to my wrought iron, four-poster bed. She’d been tethered there for over thirty minutes, and
now that the sex was over, I imagined her arms and legs were probably beginning to ache as the
adrenaline left her body.
Miss No-Name Brunette rubbed her arms and legs after I released her. I didn’t need or want
to know her name. I’d never see her again so what was the point.
She watched me gather my clothes, and her eyes roaming appreciatively over my body.
“So, John, when can I see you again? You’re amazing.” She licked her plump lips as her eyes
traveled over my naked body, stopping when she noticed the nasty scars on my left shin. Small gray
eyes darted to mine, and I saw the pity setting in. Pity was a deal breaker for me.
“We can’t,” I said and threw her clothes on the bed.
“Why?” Her bottom lip jutted out in disappointment. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself? You
seemed to be having a great time.”
“It was fine, uh—”
“Nancy. My name is Nancy.”
I shrugged. “Right. Nancy. I don’t do repeat performances. Ever.”
“But—”
“Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way things are.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at me. Then, she climbed off the bed and pulled on her
clothes. “I don’t understand. Are you married or something?”
“Nope. Not married or anything else that concerns you. I’m just not interested. Tonight was
great. Really. I enjoyed the shit out of myself. Fucking you was exactly what I needed. Thanks.”
“How am I supposed to get home? I left my car at the club,” she whined.
“There’s a cab waiting to take you anywhere you want. I’ve already paid the fare.” I shrugged
again. This was the bothersome part of operating this way. They always wanted to see me again, and
my answer was always no.
“I should have known when you wouldn’t kiss me there was something wrong with you. I
bet your name isn’t even John. Do you even live here?” Whatever-her-name yanked on her shoes,
and then stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
“No, I don’t live here. And, darlin’, my name is whatever you want it to be.”
“Asshole.”
“Come on, now. We both had fun.” I flashed her my megawatt smile. “I’m pretty sure you
came at least three times. It’s all good, and now, it’s all over.”
I walked to her side and gently took her arm, guiding her to the door.
“But I let you restrain me!” She stamped her foot as I opened the front door.
“You did and wasn’t it fun? Maybe you can find a man that will be as adventurous. Now, off
you go, Sally. Bye, bye.”
“Nancy!” she shouted as I closed the door on her. I could still hear grumbling as she walked
away.
“Ugh.” Leaning against the door, I let out a long sigh. It would be a while before I could go
back to that club. Too bad it ended the same every time. But I understood why. Women saw me as a
catch. I knew I was attractive. It wasn’t conceit, either. It was a fact of life that all men of the Hamil
family were hot.
My first year in the NFL, I was on the cover of Sports Illustrated as the Sexiest Man in
Football. That cover, and the other endorsements I had, made me a nice amount of cash, so I was
totally good with being an object of desire. Since they didn’t really know me, they didn’t know that I
was nowhere as attractive on the inside.
I went back to the bedroom, washed and put the toys away, locking the drawer. Then, I
stripped the bed, piling the sheets on the floor for the maid service to take care of.
I left, not knowing when I'd come back. Could be the following day. Could be two weeks
from now. But tonight, I’d been out of fucking control—chomping at the bit to blow off some
steam. In fact, I still hummed with energy.
Fuck!
My shadow-self pressed in on me for days. When I got like this, only one thing helped:
acting out. So, I’d gone to the club in search of the first remotely available Nancy, Sally, or whoever,
that didn’t revolt me. Nancy had been an easy mark. I hadn’t been there ten minutes before I’d
bought her a drink, and we were out the door, heading to the apartment I kept specifically for this
purpose. I was always happy when I found a woman willing to dabble in a little bondage. I wasn’t
heavily into the BDSM scene, but knew how to wield pain for the ultimate pleasure.
If I stopped and thought about it, I’d be forced to acknowledged just how screwed up my
life had become. So I didn't. I didn't think about all the nameless women I had fucked in the last six
years, and how I hadn't been in a relationship since the injury. These exchanges served a purpose.
Beyond that? Well, there was nothing beyond that.
But that didn’t mean I had become so jaded I’d forgotten how to get a woman off. I enjoyed
women. Loved the soft curves of their body, and loved making them come. There was nothing
hotter than watching a woman writhe and squirm as I fucked her closer to orgasm. The sound of her
screaming what she thought was my name was music to my ears, but that was as far as it went.
The reality was, I was a mess, and I didn't want that advertised.
Actually, I was far worse than just a mess; I was fucking broken.
Sometimes, I wondered if I was even capable of having a normal relationship. Truth was, I
waited for someone that didn't exist. A woman my pain-wracked brain conjured that day on the
football field. To make matters worse, she wasn’t even of age. She was a young woman, maybe
fifteen or sixteen, with the most beautiful sable-brown eyes and blonde hair I’d ever seen. Her face
was sweet, kind, and compassion filled. I realized how creepy this sounds. I wasn't a sick fuck who
preyed on young girls, and I had no idea why my mind created her. But all I knew was, if I ever
discovered she was real, I’d do anything to have her.
I rubbed my aching leg, and then climbed into my Viper. God, I loved this car. She was all
power and beauty, and driving her made me happy. I revved the engine and closed my eyes, loving
the purr, and sometimes roar of her V10.
Once on route 101, I opened her up, pushing her past the century mark on the speedometer.
It was crazy to be weaving in and out of traffic on the main freeway. I was asking to be pulled over,
but again, I didn't care. In fact, I pressed her harder and watched as the needle climbed to 110. The
concentration it took to control this machine exhilarated me. Still wound up and looking to banish
my shadow-self the only way I knew how, I pushed her just a little more. Why fucking for over an
hour didn’t do the trick, I had no idea. But if I didn’t burn this energy off before I got home, sleep
would be out of reach. It wouldn’t do to start a new job at one of the country’s most prestigious law
firms red-eyed and tired. Once home, I intended to take a long, hot shower, and then smoke a few
bowls. Hopefully, I’d emerge tired enough to sleep. For a while, maybe I’d find peace until the
nightmare returned that plunged me into my own personal hell.
A hell that I was used to. A hell that only she brought me out of.
The morning announced itself in its usual fashion. I jolted awake screaming, and drenched in
sweat—the images as clear as the day they happened.
“Fuck!” I yelled to the empty room.
Pushing myself back against the headboard, I rubbed my leg, trying to make the pain go
away. The image of her lovely face and those amazing sable-brown eyes chased the nightmare away,
but my body still buzzed with the memories.
I looked over at the bong and lighter on my bedside table and sighed. Just once, I wished I
didn’t have to numb myself to start the day.
Before giving in, I ran my hand over my damp collar-length hair, removing the waves
sticking to my moist neck. I used to keep it short for this very reason, but I liked the way it looked
longer.
As I always did, I picked up the bong and lit the bowl with the lighter. The glow of the
burning weed, and the sound of the bong gurgling as I took a hit immediately calmed me. I inhaled
deep and held the smoke in my burning lungs.
My long exhale sent a plume of smoke into the dawn-lit room. It floated for a second before
dissipating, leaving behind the tangy smell of burning weed.
With my eyes closed, I slowed my heart rate and rapid breathing. The high kicked in, and I
already felt the calm take over. I hated being so weak, and hated that what happened almost six years
ago continued to affect and define my days. I used to be the epitome of discipline. Not anymore.
If I could let go of the self-blame, then maybe the dreams would abate. But night after night,
I replayed the game and its never changing end.
At twenty-two, I had been one of the hottest quarterbacks in the NFL, playing for the
Arizona Cardinals. The year prior, we’d made it to the NFC Championships, losing by a field goal.
The next year, we were back in the same position, with the golden ticket to the Super Bowl
within our reach. The only thing standing in our way was the Philadelphia Eagles. I snarled as I
thought about that team. I always snarled at the thought of them.
Two minutes remained on the clock, and we were on the ten-yard line on third down. I
dropped into the pocket, searching the field for an open receiver. I danced this way and that as if my
movements might slow the clock. With no receiver available, I sucked in a breath and decided to go
for it. What I should have done was thrown it out of bounds and stopped the clock. That would
have been the smart move—the safe move. We had one more chance. I had to make it happen. The
year had to end in a run for the Super Bowl.
Running like a man on fire with the ball cradled against me as if I carried a newborn baby, I
headed for the end zone. But I wasn't a running back, that wasn't what I had been trained for.
Stupidly, I ran with my head down instead of up. As a result, I didn’t see the three-hundred pound
linebacker heading my way. I was the man with the ball, and I had left the protection of my
offensive line, which made me fair game.
The next thing I knew, I was laid out on the ground in extreme pain. When I looked down at
my left leg, I was surprised—and not—to see it angled in an unnatural position. I knew then that I
was well and truly fucked.
I tried to scream, but my voice failed me. Pain and the smell of the turf below me was all
there was.
The hit was dirty, straight up. Later, I found out a bounty of $5,000 had been issued for any
player that took out one of my knees. I hoped he got a bonus because he’d gone above and beyond
his mandate. Not only did I miss a season, my football career was over. Instead of taking out my
knee, his helmet, and the power behind it, hit my shin and shattered my tibia and fibula.
I remembered lying on the ground as the trainers and medical staff attended me. Chaos had
broken out around me. Players fought, and coaches and referees argued.
I needed to find peace from the commotion; needed to concentrate on something other than
the excruciating pain coming from my leg. I turned my head and found a pair of big, sable-brown
eyes, surrounded by golden-blonde hair, staring at me. She was beyond beautiful, and her eyes were
mesmerizing. I had conjured an angel.
In my hallucination, we shared an instant connection. When all around I saw pity and
remorse, in her eyes, I found solace and compassion—a kindred soul to my loss. The need to help,
and her inability not to, showed in the tears falling down her face, and the trembling of her full red
lips. My heart still clenched whenever I thought about it.
As conjurings go, I had created a whopper. When I thought back on it, I knew there was no
way she could be real. The average person wouldn’t have been allowed to get so close to an injured
player on the field. Hell, my girlfriend, who’d been sitting in the stands, wasn’t allowed on the field.
It still baffled the shit out of me that my mind had created such a vivid image.
I could still see her brushing tears from her eyes in my hallucination, and I remember her
taking a small step forward. I wanted her to come closer, to touch me. That was where the
hallucination ended, stopped by a new streak of pain that had traveled through my leg, sending me
into momentary blackness. When I opened my eyes, my blonde-haired beauty with soul-filled eyes
had disappeared. All I had left was the image of her that pulled me from my terror every morning. I
figured she’d probably be around twenty or twenty-one by now if she were real. I’d admit, that even
today, I looked for those eyes in every blonde I encountered.
Pathetic. Yeah. Too fucking pathetic.
I sighed and took two more hits off the bong. Maybe one too many, but at least now I felt
more balanced, controlled, and ready to start the day.
What the world saw now was a man who graduated from Harvard Law School, summa cum
laude, and worked for almost three years at a top law firm in Boston. Some of the country's top law
firms had courted me, and I had my pick of firms. But I decided to come back to Arizona, the place
where my life changed forever.
Gingerly, I climbed out of the bed and headed for the pool. I didn’t bother putting on swim
trunks; swimming naked was awesome. After a few stretches, I dove into the pool and swam laps for
an hour. Swimming kept me in shape, though not the shape of an NFL football player. Those days
were gone.
Finishing my laps, I headed for the shower, feeling excited, like something huge would
happen today. The last time I had this feeling, something huge happened all right. I looked at my leg
and scowled as sudsy water washed over my angry scars.
I dried off and walked into my closet, surveying the suits I had to choose from. I was
somewhat of a clotheshorse—always had been. Today, I picked a black Hugo Boss suit, white shirt,
and black, silk tie. In the mirror before me, I watched a professional, seemingly together man tie his
tie. It was a lie of course, but one I was used to.
Once dressed, I went to the kitchen and packed up a brownie in a plastic bag to take with
me. I'd gotten good at baking brownies. But these weren't just any chocolaty treats. These had a
kick. Cliché I know, but hey, whatever got me through the day. Whether I’d partake in it depended
on how the day went. Obviously, smoking at work wasn’t a good idea. But every now and then, the
pain became unbearable. If a handful of ibuprofen didn’t do the trick, the brownie would. I refused
to take pain meds. Those things did a number on my brain.
I put the brownies away, and all the paraphernalia of my coping mechanism, and locked
them in a cabinet in the pantry. I didn't need Hannah, my housekeeper, finding them. She probably
wouldn't care, but I did.
Thinking of Hannah made me laugh. I'd only met her twice, but we had developed an odd,
sometimes hilarious, texting relationship. I really liked her. Her cooking was amazing, and she kept
my home perfect.
Her work was about to increase, and I was thrilled. My brother was bringing my dog, Ben,
home to me. He had been with Brody in Colorado for the last two months while I got settled. I
couldn't wait to see both of them. Thinking about it made me giddy. I knew Ben would love it here.
There was plenty of room for him to run. Bernese Mountain dogs needed lots of exercise. I almost
didn’t get him because of that. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He got my ass outside
and stopped me from being such a hermit. If I thought about the fact that my best friend was a dog,
I would get bummed. But then again, fuck it! I loved my dog, and I had missed him terribly.
I doled out my handful of vitamins and four ibuprofen into my hand, and then popped them
into my mouth. From the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of OJ, taking large swigs from the bottle.
Let the day begin, I thought as I walked down the hall to the door. The sound of my designer
shoes on the travertine floors reminded me of the sound of cleats on concrete. It made me smile,
but the memory was bittersweet, and I pushed it aside. Behind bittersweet was pure malice, an
emotion I couldn't allow myself. Not today.
Grabbing the keys to my Viper, I headed out the door.
Watch out Arizona, Zolt Hamil was back.
Dawna Raver didn't always want to be a writer, but the voices in her head keep sending her stories, ranging from new adult, romantic fantasy and contemporary romance.
When she's not spending time in her fantasy world, Dawna loves football, reading, and pretending she's a top chef in the kitchen. Oh, and fawning over her dogs and husband, sometimes in that order.




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Cover Reveal for "Number Thirteen" by Bella Jewel

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Title: Number Thirteen

Author: Bella Jewel

Expected Release Date: March 17, 2014

Genre: Dark Romance

**AUTHOR NOTE - This is NOT a BDSM Romance**

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Synopsis

We're thirteen girls, captive, slave to our master. A master we've never seen. Obedience will become all we know in our shallow existence. It is the only emotion we're permitted to feel. When we're bad, we're punished. When we're good, we're rewarded. Our scars run deep. Yet we survive, because we have to... because HE teaches us to. All of us are special, we feel it with everything we are. He has us for a reason, but it's a reason we don't know. We've never seen his face, but we know that something deeply broken lies beneath the darkness. With every touch, with every punishment, we know it. Then something changed. He showed me who he truly is. Now I want him. I'll go against everything I know to be with him.

A monster.

My monster.

Loving him is a sin, but a sinner I am. I won't stop until I see every part of him. Even the parts he keeps locked deep down inside.

I am Number Thirteen, and this is my story. No one said it was pretty, or right, but it's mine.

PROLOGUE

My boots crunch in the yellow autumn leaves as I walk towards the schoolyard. I didn’t want to come today, but Momma told me I had no choice. She said school is for smart kids, and if I don’t go, then how am I ever going to get smart? I could get smart, the man on the television tells me everything I need to know. But she claims that I can’t make friends with the man on the television, that the only way to make friends is to go to school. I could have told her that I don’t need friends to be successful, but she’d only tell me I’m being silly. So I came to school. I didn’t tell her that there are bullies here, or that every day they push me around and shove me into lockers. That would make me sound weak, and now that my dad is working, and my brother is away because he didn’t like the school here, I’ve had to become the man of the house. There’s no room for weakness. Momma tells me bullies pick on the kids who are victims. I think she’s wrong. I’m not a victim; I’m just a kid. They pick on me because I’m different. I don’t look at the girls like they do; I don’t try to sneak out to parties. I’m only thirteen. I’m just there to learn, then I go home and I take care of my family, because, I’m the man of the house. Like I said. The shrill sound of the school bell ringing, tells me I’m late. I pick up into a jog, rounding the corner and into the schoolyard. It’s a cool winter day, and I have to pinch my coat together to stop it from flapping in the icy breeze. I can see the students piling in the front doors, and I turn my jog into a run. I’m focusing so heavily on the doors, that I don’t see them. A strong hand lashes out, catching hold of my sleeve and tugging me into the alleyway that runs down beside my school. I always knew this alley was dangerous. My body is slammed against a hard wooden fence, and I set eyes on my bullies. Four of them. They’re all bigger than me, all of them on the football team. They’re from a few grades up, and they’ve just turned sixteen. The leader of the group, Marcel, steps forward first. He scrunches his nose in disgust, as if I’ve just dragged myself out of a gutter, as if I’m offending him. He leans in close, and I can smell cigarettes on his breath. Smoking is not cool. “You’ve been trying to avoid me, Will. Did you really think you could hide at home with Mommy, and never have to come out again?” I stare at him, wondering why he chose me to pick on. I didn’t even know his name until he flagged me down and shoved my head down a toilet six months ago. I was just a kid, keeping my head down, studying and learning like I should. Now here I am, pressed against a fence, wondering why they decided I was good enough to take extra special effort to attack. I don’t bother answering him; it’ll only make him worse. My answers won’t make a difference. If I answer, I’m wrong. If I don’t answer, I’m wrong. “Are you fucking mute, you little cunt?” My body jerks. I hate that word, it’s so…vulgar. I let my eyes move to the four other guys standing like protective pack animals around Marcel. I don’t know their names; they’re not significant enough. The tall boy with orange hair looks nervous, like he knows what’s about to happen could put him in a world of trouble - but he’s still here, still making the choice to stay. The other two guys are stony faced, and fully aware of their part in this attack. I still don’t answer him. If I just let them beat me, it’ll go away quicker. “You’re a freak, Will, do you know that?” Marcel hisses, leaning in closer. Of course I know that. I wouldn’t be pinned against a fence if I didn’t know that. Bullies are so dumb. Marcel raises his fist, and brings it down over my face, cracking my nose so hard blood spurts onto his shirt. I don’t cry out, because that’s what he wants, but the pain radiating through my head is nearly enough to make me beg. Nearly. Marcel takes hold of my shirt, and his grey eyes scan my face. He’s panting, as though I’ve shoved him into an alley and challenged him. Like this is my fault. The world is twisted like that, and it’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way. “You know,” he growls, locking eyes with me. “I heard my girl saying how handsome you were the other day. Do you know how much it sucks to have my girl saying that a freak is handsome? Especially a freak that’s only what? Thirteen years old? Your dick would be no bigger than a tube of damned lipstick, yet she thinks you’re handsome!” I wouldn’t know how much it sucks to have a girl say that, because I don’t have a girl. Again, bullies are dumb. “Don’t answer me, you little twerp. It doesn’t matter. I will make sure by the time you leave this alley; you’re not handsome anymore. I won’t have my competition being some little weasel that can’t even speak.” I taste blood filling my mouth, and my nose is pounding so heavily I’m almost sure I can hear my own heart in my head. I don’t take my eyes from Marcel. They say look danger right in the eye; it gives you power and strength. I don’t feel powerful right now, in fact, I don’t really feel anything. Someone like me doesn’t fight, I’m the underdog, and underdogs are weak. Everyone knows it. Marcel reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a pocket knife. The heart that feels like it’s in my head begins thumping even harder. I try not to show fear, I try to stand tall and take what he dishes out with strength, but that’s not so easy when your attacker is waving around a pocket knife. “She said it was your eyes,” he begins, lazily tracing circles on his palm with the blade. “She said they’re the most stunning eyes she’s ever seen. Like the ocean.” I didn’t know my eyes were like the ocean. He takes hold of my shirt, yanking me close. “No one is more appealing to my girl, than me.” They say bad things happen in slow motion, they’re right. I feel Marcel throw me down onto the floor. I feel every movement as my body slammed into the dirt. I feel his body weight coming over me, his knees pinning me down as I squirm. I feel his friend take my arms, pulling them above my head, while another puts a hand over my mouth. With my nose pouring with blood, that makes it difficult to breathe. I feel the knife ripping into my skin as I thrash my head from side to side, and I can feel the blood pouring down the sides of my face. Each time he attempts to stab me, I move and the knife only slices through the skin around my eye. My pained wails fill the alley, but no one comes to help me. No one is around in the one moment of my life that I need them. I know what I’ll remember most about that day, and that is the moment he finally manages to drive the knife into my eye. I don’t feel pain, not right away. Instead I hear the popping sound, as his blade pierces right through. Then I feel pressure as he twists. It’s only when he yanks it out of its socket, that I start to scream. Then the pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Words cannot begin to explain the horror I feel as darkness begins to invade my body. I know my face is covered in blood, because it drips down to soak my hair. I know I bite his friends hand so hard I nearly take off his finger. I don’t know what they’re saying, or even acknowledge the moment when they run away. All I know was that I am bleeding to death in an alley, missing an eye. Red fills my vision as the blood begins to cover every part of my face. I know I’m still screaming, even though I can’t hear it. All I can hear is an excessive ringing in my ears. I can’t even move my hands to cover my eye, in an attempt to protect the empty socket. I can do nothing but lay and scream, witnessing a pain that I’ll never witness again in my life, and wondering what I did to deserve it. No one deserves to die. But I do die that day. And in my place, a monster is born.

About the Author

Bella Jewel

Bella Jewel is an Aussie girl through and through. She spent her life in Western Australia, growing up in many different areas of the state. She now currently lives in Perth with her husband, children and mass amounts of pets. She's crazy, fun, outgoing and friendly. Writing is her passion, she started at the young age of 18 but finally got the courage up to publish, and her first novel Hell's Knights was released in August 2013.

Author Social Media Links

Facebook | Website | Goodreads

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Release Blitz for "Dwellers of Darkness"




Some days feel like years, but in Ember Brycin’s case just the opposite is true. She had only been in the Otherworld for a day or two when she returned back to the Earth's realm. But it is three years later on Earth. Em is now 22. It would matter if she was human, but she’s not. She is a Dae, part Demon and part Fay, with a little Dark Dweller thrown in to make her even more of a freak.

Seeing Seattle rebuilt only confirms she has been gone three years. For her it was not long ago that the Seattle area was just rubble of concrete and death. All done by her hand.

One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is her undeniable connection to Eli Dragen, who is sexy, gorgeous, and even more volatile and frustrating. But her problems go way past him. The Seelie Queen of the Otherworld still holds Mark, Em’s father, and her friends, Ryan, and Josh as hostages. Em needs to rescue them without, once again, getting caught and being used as a pawn to help the Queen regain possession of Earth. At the same time Ember is in hot water with Lars, the Unseelie King, after breaking her contract with him.

As some secrets have come to light others seem to become even more enigmatic. The only truth Ember knows is,everyone is harboring secrets. As Eli’s past is revealed, Em understands more clearly why he acts the way he does and how much their lives are intertwined. But she also knows Eli is holding something back, something that could change their relationship forever.

Em herself continues to wrestle with her feelings toward Torin and her own secret she’s withholding from Kennedy. As the tension for war mounts between the Seelie and Unseelie (Light and Dark), the tension at the Dark Dweller’s compound mounts even more as they prepare to obtain the sword no matter what the price. But is Ember the answer to the location of the sword? Is she the one to fulfill the prophecy? As usual nothing is ever what it seems.

















Stacey Marie Brown by day is an Interior/Set Designer, by night a writer of Paranormal Fantasy, Adventure, and Literary Fiction. She grew up in Northern California, where she ran around on her family’s farm, raising animals, riding horses, playing flashlight tag, and turning hay bales into cool forts. Even before she could write, she was creating stories and making up intricate fantasies. Writing came as easy as breathing. She later turned that passion into acting, living and traveling abroad, and designing. Though she had never stopped writing, moving back to San Francisco seemed to have brought it back to the forefront and this time it would not be ignored.

When she’s not writing she’s out hiking, spending time with friends, traveling, listening to music, or designing.








Twitter:  S_MarieBrown















Darkness of Light
Synopsis:
Freak. Witch. Crazy. Schizo.

Ember Brycin has been called them all. She’s always known she’s different. No one has ever called her normal, even under the best circumstances. Bizarre and inexplicable things continually happen to her, and having two different colored eyes, strange hair, and an unusual tattoo only contributes to the gossip about her.

When the latest school explosion lands her in a facility for trouble teens, she meets Eli Dragen, who’s hot as hell and darkly mysterious. Their connection is full of passion, danger, and secrets. Secrets that will not only change her life, but what and who she is—leading her down a path she never imagined possible.

Between Light and Dark, Ember finds a world where truth and knowledge are power and no one can be trusted. But her survival depends on finding out the truth about herself. In her pursuit, she is forced between love and destiny and good and evil, even when the differences between them aren’t always clear. At worst, she will incite a war that could destroy both worlds. At best, she will not only lose her heart but her life and everyone she loves. Once the truth is out, however, there will be no going back. And she’ll definitely wish she could




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Fire in the Darkness
Synopsis:

It's been four weeks since Ember Brycin witnessed what her powers are capable of. The Electrical Current Storm has turned Seattle, Washington into a natural disaster zone. The death toll is in the thousands with countless others homeless and hungry.



And Ember is the one who caused it. Something she will have to live with every day.


Those people who were unable to escape either turned quickly into gangs or live in shelters. Ember, on the other hand, can’t do either. With a price on her head and a Dark Dweller on her ass, she is constantly on the move. Both Light and Dark are hunting her for their own purpose to use her as a weapon or a pawn in the war between the Unseelie King of the Dark and the Seelie Queen of the Light.

Em needs help but doesn’t know who to trust: Lars, the mystery man Torin told her to find? Torin, the Seelie Queen’s personal knight, who has sworn to keep Em safe? Or Eli, who wants to turn her over to the Unseelie King, but whom she has an undeniable, intense connection with?

No matter what she chooses she will probably lose—her life or everything and everyone she loves.


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Beast in the Darkness (novellette)



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Beast in the Darkness is Free on Smashwords and $0.99 on Amazon











Release Blitz for "Hero" by Leighton Del Mia

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Title: Hero

Author: Leighton Del Mia

Release Date: February 27, 2014

Genre: Dark Erotic Romance Standalone

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Synopsis

 

Calvin Parish They call me Hero. I defend. I protect. I ask for nothing in return, and that makes me good. Doesn’t it?

That which makes me the ultimate predator also feeds dark impulses I’ve learned to control—until I bring her too close. For years I’ve watched her from afar, but what started out as duty has become obsession.

Cataline Ford I work hard. I play by the rules. I’m content. My scars are quiet and invisible, and that keeps me hidden. Doesn’t it?

One fateful walk home, I’m taken by someone I didn’t know I should fear. Captive and afraid, nobody will tell me why I’m confined to this hauntingly beautiful mansion. I’m given everything; I have nothing. He takes what he needs from me, and for that I hate him. But I might have loved him once.

And just because you’re reading this doesn’t mean I survive him.

 

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Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/1bMquOu
Amazon Paperback: http://amzn.to/1gCIh88

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About the Author

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Leighton Del Mia lives behind large sunglasses and under massive headphones. She can usually be found behind and under these things at any Starbucks on the West Coast, which is where she writes twisty books between sips of black coffee.

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Giveaway

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Keep Me (A Hero Novella)

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“I will disappoint you. I will hurt you. If I could be different, I would. But I don’t think I can.”

Declarations and sacrifices have been made. After three years, a better life is finally on the horizon. But when the past leaves marks that are both painful and permanent, is there ever such a thing as starting over? Can memories be replaced or forgotten—and should they be? Keep Me is a follow-up novella for Hero readers who want a glimpse of life after breakfast. It is only intended to be enjoyed after Hero and is not a standalone. It is entirely optional and not essential to the original plot.

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