Thursday, March 6, 2014

Blog Tour: Kept by Various Authors


From the darkest parts of the underworld, to aliens hunting on Earth, to planets far away, each of these capture-themed novellas by six bestselling authors takes you on a wild ride that will heat up your fantasies and keep you up all night long…reading.

From Holly S. Roberts - Can Sergeant Kelly Myers sacrifice her blood and body to a vampire to save her country or is Talon worse than the evil trying to kill them all? 

From Angela Castle -  Can alien King K’marr convince Ash they are Soul Bonds or will she let him succumb to the abyss of madness?

From Cari Silverwood’s new Preyfinder series - A Preyfinder is trained to withstand hardship and pain, and Jadd would rather kneel before a firestorm than leave his captive, Brittany, to be stalked and killed.

From Sorcha Black - Lying tangled in her sheets each night, dreaming of sex, virginal Shiloh never means to tempt the spying succubus.

From C.L. Scholey - Two hot aliens take the form of friends and spirit Cali away aboard their alien vessel.

From Leia Shaw - After accidentally turning off a device that could destroy earth, Maggie is abducted by a man with an accent as sexy as his looks and taken to Scotland to fix the device.

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Crimson by Holly Roberts

His whisper sent shivers across my skin, “Past the alcohol, I smell your arousal. It’s calling my name, as does your blood.”

His hand ran over my arm, fingers trailing the sculpted outline of muscle. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. Every nerve I possessed craved his touch, vibrated with need and screamed for more.

More him, more burn between my thighs, just—more.

One hand remained in my hair; the other tipped my chin up so I looked into his eyes. “I’m hungry but I don’t think I can ignore the alcohol.” He sniffed me again. “I have one question. Are you here willingly?”

“What?” I couldn’t have heard him correctly. What the fuck did willing have to do with this?

“Are. You. Willing?” This time he asked slowly.

I tried to shake my head but his grasp was too firm. The haze that clouded my brain since entering the room dissipated slightly. “What does willing have to do with anything?”

His eyes penetrated straight through me. I could feel them dissecting my brain, seeking answers that I was unable to give. “It has everything to do with everything.”

The sudden release of my hair and chin had me stumbling back. Grabbing my arm to steady me, he looked down at my shoes. Dropping to one knee, he slipped them from my feet and my hands landed on his shoulders before I could stop myself. Once I stood barefoot, his face traveled up my leg, scenting me again. My dress lifted slightly when he reached the hem. His nose carried the material up just a bit until he stopped at the juncture of my thighs. His hands went to my ass as he pulled me against his face. I arched my back grinding myself even closer.

What the fuck was happening to me?

“Are you hungry?”

I looked down. His chocolate eyes were gazing into mine. The slow curve of his lips gave him the most kissable mouth I’d ever seen. He released my ass and stood in one fluid move. He repeated the question and finally my brain decided it could function. I hadn’t eaten since before my drunk-fest the night before. Maybe that’s what was wrong with me.

Precious Sacrifice by Cari Silverwood

He walked into view at the other end of the row of parked cars, blocking out the taxi waiting for her with its engine idling, and he turned and headed toward her. Long dark coat. Mean look in his eyes...or where his eyes would be. His face was shrouded in darkness. He just looked bad.

Brittany’s throat closed in. Breathing, who needed it?

Big man, as in fucking huge, and with a totally deliberate way of moving. 

Every step was calculated. Like a lone stranger walking into a lowlife Wild West town, about to rescue the folks from the two-gun killer kid. She could hear the theme song from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing.
All he was missing was a Stetson and a pair of six guns.

Headlights from a passing car flickered over him. His face...oh god. He definitely needed a hat to pull over that. Were those parallel scars running across his cheeks? Or tattoos made up to look like American Indian war paint? Whatever. They were red and scary. Only he surpassed scary by a mile. She took a half-step back, surprised the man wasn’t snorting steam out his nostrils.

But he smelled good. From yards away. Was that even possible? Mm-Mmm.

It took all her determination not to squeal, run down the aisle between the parked cars, and jump his bones then and there. Loose stones on the concrete cracked under his boots. A breeze blew the front of his coat wide. She caught a glimpse of a wide, well-built torso that stretched his pants and shirt with a real man’s body.

Grand prize -  One book from each author.


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