Tag Archives: #thriller

#NewRelease Undeniable-Tortured Love by @RavennaTate @EvernighPub #eroticromance #thriller

UNDENIABLE
Tortured Love 4
***Click HERE to purchase
directly from Evernight Publishing***

Rosanna Selim can’t recall almost two years of her life, but it hasn’t stopped her from loving her job as a paralegal with one of the top defense firms in Cleveland, Ohio. It also hasn’t affected her relationship with sexy, charming homicide detective, Houston Cassidy. Until he tells her about a twelve-year-old case. As images invade both her waking and dreaming states, she’s certain that uncovering the truth means losing Houston.

Houston has been unlucky in love because of dedication to his job, so he’s determined not to screw things up with Rosanna. She’s sexy, beautiful, and the most easy going woman he’s ever met. He adores her. But when she tells him about the images, and as she works with a therapist to recover her memories, Houston has to come to terms with the possibility that she’s the killer in a case he’s been trying to solve for twelve years.

EXCERPT

“I love it when you do that.”

“Are you sure?” He raised his brows. “I can wait a long time.”

“Oh yeah?” She shoved her hand between them and caressed his erect penis. “Doesn’t feel that way to me.”

The laugh she loved so much filled the space around them. “Appearances are deceiving.” Shivers ran up and down her spine as he kneaded her breasts. Even with her clothes still on, the effect was intoxicating. She massaged his shaft, aching for that dick to be inside her.

“You’re going to wait for it, babe.”

“Even with me doing this?”

One finger traced between her breasts, over her abdomen, and landed on her clit, where he rubbed hard. The movement forced her hand off his cock. “Now you can’t reach me.”

“Tease.”

“I never tease.” He massaged her swollen bud through the jeans, but she definitely felt it.

“So what do you call this?”

“Payback.”

“For what?”

“For being too damn sexy for your own good.”

“Weak, Houston. Very weak.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s the one squirming and begging right now?”

When he clamped his mouth on her groin through the denim, Rosanna cried out in pleasure. He was right. He’d nailed her. How the man had so much self-control was a mystery to her, but she loved it. She loved the teasing and she loved the way he made her so crazy with desire she wasn’t above begging him to fuck her.

“I’ll bet your hot pussy is soaking wet right now.”

“Why don’t you take off my jeans and find out?”

“Oh, I’ll take them off, but I’m not fucking you just yet. There’s something I keep promising you but haven’t delivered.”

“And what might that be?”

A wicked, sly grin had her wondering if she should have asked. Houston yanked off her jeans, taking her panties with them. He removed her socks and shoes, but instead of returning to what he’d been doing with that magic mouth a second ago, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her over one knee.

“Houston…” She was so surprised, she had no idea what to say.

“I’ve been threatening to spank you for weeks.” She gasped as he swatted each cheek, hard. He pinned her thighs with his right leg and held her across the lower back with his left hand. She couldn’t move, and the effect was so deliciously dominant that she nearly came.

“Tell me you’ve been a bad girl.” One more stinging smack on each cheek forced another gasp from her. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’ve been a bad girl.” Her voice came out all breathy and low, but honestly, how could she help that? This was so over the top intoxicating that her clit began to throb.

“Yes, you have.”

“Oh my God!” He delivered five more blows to each cheek, alternating, and now they burned like fucking crazy. Each swat built on the next one, until she couldn’t distinguish the pleasure from the pain. The combined into one sweet, torturous sensation that sent shivers down her spine, and tiny contractions to her soaking wet pussy.

“Had enough yet, bad girl?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that.”

Houston rubbed the wounds he’d made, which forced loud moans from her as the intensity of the burn increased. “Not quite yet. You can take a bit more.”

***Other Buy Links***AMAZON

Find Ravenna here: Ravenna Tate Website

#NewRelease! #CanadianMuscle Book 2 ~ Guarding His Anchor #Suspense #ERom @KaceyHammell @EvernightPub

 

Canadian Muscle …
When Desires Need Protecting.
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Thank you so much for sharing my latest release, Guarding His Anchor, with your readers! Frank and Charlie haven’t had an easy road, but their journey is romantic and adventurous.
Happy Reading.
Kacey

finalGenre: Contemporary/Suspense/Erotic Romance
W.C.: 57,400
Warning: Includes biting (Odaxelagnia) during sex
ISBN: 978-1-77339-185-4
Release Date: February 21, 2017
Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Guarding His Anchor Blurb:
Charlotte Weber is no stranger to heartbreak. FBI agent Frank Shaw has swept in and out of her life as though she’s a revolving door, stomping on her heart in the process. Now that she’s finally had enough, he’s back again and seems determined to spin her life out of control.
Frank knows Charlie is the anchor for his lost soul, even though he can’t risk settling down. The demons of his past are too great, and he won’t run the risk of hurting her. This time, his only objective should be locating Charlie’s brother, Sean. But Charlie’s a complication, and not just because she refuses to believe Sean is guilty.
As Frank and Charlie fight for what they believe in, they also try to resist their powerful connection. The future is unclear, but when danger surrounds them, they are each other’s only anchor.

99cent

Grab Guarding Midnight for 99 cents HERE

Guarding His Anchor Excerpt:
Frank watched Charlie intently.
Charlie.
That name was for a young girl, not for a woman like her.
To him, she was all Charlotte. Confident, virile, elegant, intoxicating. A vixen who turned a man on with one sultry glance and then brought him to his knees with one heady taste of her. He hated calling her by such the tomboy-ish name everyone else called her.
Others didn’t see what he did. Which was a good thing, too; he didn’t want her sharing that part of herself with anyone else. Especially not with this Numbnuts Neal that Jonas had told him about last night. Another guy was sniffing around his lady, and he didn’t like it. Not one fucking little sliver.
“So.” Charlotte interrupted his thoughts. He’d deal with Numbnuts later. “Tell me”—she shoved the file aside—“in your own words, everything my brother has allegedly done. And sugarcoat nothing on my behalf. I’ll read the report later.”
There was the woman he cared for. The brook-no-argument heat in her eyes. Her deep, sea-blue gaze sliced deep and offered no mercy.
“Your brother actually went undercover five years ago. You knew he was changing jobs and would be out of the country for a long time. You told me that yourself, remember?” Charlotte nodded but said nothing. “Through my contacts and the agent in charge of the case, it’s been almost eighteen months since his handler’s spoken to him.”
Her eyes widened and she shifted, but remained silent.
“I tracked him down in the most desolate area of Tel Aviv and to a branch in a drug cartel he’d started investigating years ago. The minute details are in the file, but to make a long story short, I got too close. Breached a compound to look for evidence of your brother being there and anything else I could use in the case.” He ran a hand down his face, the skin itchy from not having shaved in days. “Only sparse personnel were to be on the grounds, less eyes watching, but the Intel I got had been wrong. Before I knew what was happening, I was getting shot at from every direction.”
“So Sean might not be the one who shot you.” Her eyes were eager, hopeful. Of course she’d latch on to the fact multiple bullets were aimed at him.
He shook his head, wishing he could answer her pleas. “I managed through the worst of it and found my way to an empty garage where I ran into your brother. And before you ask, yes, I am certain it was him. He appeared confused at first, then said, ‘Charlie’s Frank?’ So he knew who I was. Then voices and more gunfire rang out and coming toward us. Before I could react to anything, he suddenly raised his gun and shot me.” Frank rubbed his wound, still surprised he’d survived. The doctors had said a couple inches left or right, depending on travel of the bullet and bone fragment concerns, and surgery wouldn’t have been an option either.
“How’d you get out of there?” He hoped the concern in her eyes was true and for him, not just her brother.
“One of the other agents with me pulled up in a jeep. I ran out as fast as possible, and he hauled our asses out of there.”
Charlotte scoffed. “Okay Rambo-slash-John McClane, you still watch too many action films. Unless I hear it from Sean, I won’t believe he’d shoot you for no reason.”
She’d always been pigheaded, but Frank couldn’t believe she’d question it. “What reason would I have to lie to you? Hell, Charlo—ie, I latched on to the case to prove his innocence.”
“Why? Why did you want to get involved? You left Vikki and high-tailed it on the first plane out with barely any notice. You didn’t tell me much before you left. And you were on your way to partnering up with Gavin and Marc with the security stuff. But you dropped everything and left. Why was Sean’s case that important to you?”
“For you!” he bellowed, confused why she didn’t see that. “He is your brother, Gavin’s best friend, and I’d have access to the whole case to help him.”
“Don’t pretend that you were doing me any favors. I never asked you to get involved, Frank.”
“Well, of course not,” he growled low. “You’d never have found out any of it if I had my way. I was hoping to get Sean out of trouble and bring him home to you. But you overheard Gavin and I talking before I left. And as far as leaving Vikki, she and I discussed it. She needed space and was only too eager to see me go. She didn’t need my hovering at that point and wanted to stand on her own, or try to. Gavin watched over her for me.” He smiled. “You all did, and I appreciate it very much.”
“We’ve become great friends.” He loved the way Charlotte’s eyes softened as she talked about his cousin. “It is an honest friendship. And it has nothing to do with you.”
Months had turned her hard, distant. He only had himself to blame. They hadn’t left things on a positive note, but he’d hoped she’d understand one day.
Hell, he’d foolishly hoped that she would come to appreciate having him on Sean’s case rather than a stranger. Their personal relationship aside, he assumed she’d trust the agent he was, and how long and hard he’d continued searching for Vikki. What other proof did she need to trust him?
How wrong he’d been.
“I don’t want to think about Sean doing this.” The worry on her face tore at his heart. “Was he undercover too long? Is that a reason people believe he’s capable of such violence?”
“There are many cops and agents that have gone so far undercover they get caught up in the lifestyle and it’s impossible to find their way back.” Sadness crept across her face. “Sorry, Charlie, that’s as honest as it gets.”
“None of this makes sense.” She stood and piled paperwork on the file cabinet. “It goes against who Sean is, and not who Norris raised. I can’t wrap my head around it. My brother isn’t a monster.”
Her voice broke, breaking his heart in the process. Frank stood and crossed the room, then rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, hon. I know you’re scared, and I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
Charlotte turned, surprising him, and burrowed her face in his chest. Sobs tore from her, shaking her strong yet delicate frame. He wrapped her in his arms, resting his cheek on her head, and let her cry.
It had been so long—too long—since he’d inhaled her sweet scent of fruity shampoo and the coconut butter body wash she used every day. He’d barely made it through any meal that served any of the combinations, the memories of her too fervent to let him eat in peace. Soft, warm, and the tranquility that came to him whenever he held her close were all potently his Charlotte.
Home. Being this close to her again was like coming home. But he wasn’t a man looking for one place to settle down. And it puzzled him why he returned time and time again.
You know exactly why. You have an addiction, buddy. And she’s in your arms right now.
Yes, he supposed his conscience was trying to tell him something, but it was wrong. He kept returning here because of his friends, the security business. But Charlotte pulled him back in like a reel catching a fish every single time.
“No. Fuck no.” Her high-pitched squeal surprised him. He fell back on his feet, shocked at her strength to shove him so hard.
“Charlotte—”
“Shut up. No. Damn it.” She glared at him, fists tight. “Get out. Don’t coddle me. Don’t console me. You won’t use me. Get. Out.”
“Use you? Coddle you?” He huffed. “You turned to me,” he yelled, frustration gnawing at him.
“Guess I’m an idiot, but I won’t fall for it. I won’t let you close enough to betray my brother. If I even hear from him again.” Her chest heaved and sweat dotted her forehead and cheeks. Frank had never seen her so out of control, seething and yet so stunning. How ferocious she was in battle.
“Charlie?”
Frank’s head whipped around to the intruding voice in the doorway.
“Charlie, are you all right?”
“We’re having a private conversation. Get lost, buddy.”
“Shut up, Frank. Come on in, Neal. He and I are finished.”
So this was Numbnuts Neal. Dark hair, squinty eyes, tanned skin. Dressed to the nines in a suit and tie, with a cute little handkerchief in his breast pocket, and a pair of round glasses in his right hand. Jesus, what a nerd. Frank wanted to pick him up and chuck him back out into the hallway.
“I, um, just came to see if you wanted to catch up. Maybe dinner?” Numbnuts eyed Frank with caution. Good. Frank wanted the guy scared shitless of him.
But the little prick stepped forward and extended his hand to shake.
Frank eyed the small limb with the urge to break it but wanting to be an adult.
“Oh, for cripes sake,” Charlotte groused. “Neal Simmons, Frank Shaw. And vice versa. Whatever.” She pushed a pile of folders into a shoulder bag then her phone and grabbed another smaller bag she slid under her arm. “I’ll call you later, Neal. I need a time out.”
“Hey, wait a second,” Frank called out, following her into the hall.
“No, I’m done here. I can’t do this right now.” She turned and rushed away.
Frank watched, jaw clenched. Anger and frustration filled him as Charlotte and Numbnuts disappeared. He strode back into her office for his cell phone he’d set on her desk earlier. Frank eyed the landline phone sitting there.
After extracting a small case from the front pocket of his pants, he opened it and pulled out the tiny device and lifted the dial-phone. He placed the electronic bug underneath it and set it back down.
If Sean contacted his sister, this would be one number he might call. As much as Frank disliked going behind her back like this, he had a job to do. No matter how much he cared about her, he’d do whatever it took to bring bad guys in. He wasn’t bred any other way.

Buy Links ~
Book Page —
https://kaceyhammell.com/bookshelf-2/canadian-muscle/guardinghisanchor/

Evernight Publishing —
http://www.evernightpublishing.com/guarding-his-anchor-by-kacey-hammell/

Amazon:
US — https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WGV99NR
Canada — https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06WGV99NR
UK — https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06WGV99NR

Universal link —
https://books2read.com/u/3kZk7g

Bookstrand –
http://www.bookstrand.com/guarding-his-anchor-mf

Coming soon to bookstores at …
Smashwords / Kobo / B&N(Nook) / iTunes  

Goodreads — https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34196983-guarding-his-anchor

gahereader

Insurmountable by @AllysonYoung @EvernightPub #Thriller #Erotica

Thank you for having me today and sharing my new release with your readers! Insurmountable, an erotic suspense from Evernight Publishing.

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Blurb:

Kidnapped because of her father’s wrongdoings, Bianca Fontaine is interrogated for any hint of his whereabouts by a man she has no reason to be drawn to. Who falls for their kidnapper? Especially an arrogant, hard man who is bound by duty—with those intriguing soft and caring qualities he hates to show. She’s learned the truth about her mother’s disappearance and her reality is suspect, except for the one constant—Ellis Valiant.

 

Ellis Valiant is indeed a hard man, but he’s already destroyed Bianca’s world and could make it worse if he doesn’t send her away. But when he finds her exploring her submissive side in the sex club fronting for his organization, his noble efforts fall by the wayside and he steps up as her Dom. Except Ellis harbors a secret, an insurmountable one, and Bianca will surely hate him when it comes to light.

 

Buy links/author links:

Amazon

Evernight Publishing

Allromance.com

Barnes and Noble

 

Bookstrand

Google Play

Kobo

Smashwords

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Excerpt:

Pushing her into the back seat of the closest SUV, his big hand on the crown of her head, between it and the door frame, invader number one climbed in beside her. The man who said she was worthless as a hostage got in behind the wheel. Scrambling across the leather surface, Bianca huddled against the door, wondering if she might throw herself out and make a run for it. But where? There was no ally in the traitor Mrs. Doucette and they’d probably shoot Max in retaliation. She prayed the housekeeper would care for her dog as she promised. The older woman had never been anything but kind to him, but then she’d been kind to Bianca too. Bianca chewed the inside of her cheek. Maybe her father would get Max back when he ransomed or came for her. She had to hold onto some kind of hope of rescue, maybe before things happened to her. Anybody with money at her schools was versed in possible kidnappings, and the lurid tales left a vile taste in the back of her throat.

The man beside her pulled off his hood, running his fingers through flattened hair. Bianca stared. She knew she was staring, but was incapable of doing anything about it. It was like looking at a carefully sculpted face of a Roman god. High cheekbones, deeply set golden eyes framed by a thicket of black lashes under dark brows, incongruous with the thick blond hair curling to his collar, and a chiseled set of lips. The door shut, plunging the vehicle into relative darkness as its light extinguished and deprived her of that rock star visage. Of a killer.

“Fuck, man. You let her see your face!”

His deep voice retorted, “It’s not like Fontaine doesn’t know who crashed his party, Dave.”

Over the grind of the ignition she heard the driver mutter, “And it’s not like she’s ever going home.” A shadow of fabric passed in front of the muted lights from the dash instruments for a moment as he too pulled off his mask, tossing it aside. Her chances of surviving this just narrowed from fifty to zero percent, and she desperately needed to pee.

They drove in silence, the other vehicles falling in behind to form a convoy as they bumped through the ruined gates and gained the main road. Aside from their initial comments, neither man spoke, and she too remained silent. Her thoughts clamored to be heard but she couldn’t put them in any real semblance of order. Kidnapped. Check. They were going to make her talk about her father. Check. They planned to try to ransom her. Check. Except they didn’t think that would prove fruitful. Wouldn’t her father move heaven and earth to get her back? Except he wasn’t a family-first kind of guy … she didn’t want to understand the inference but accepted it was huge. Nightmare. Check. She concentrated on her breathing and drew on her reserves when she really wanted to scream the roof down.

“What’s with her, Ellis?” The driver finally spoke up. “She hasn’t said boo since she gave up the old man. Must be her father’s daughter, eh?”

Feeling his eyes boring into her, she turned inward. Ellis. An unusual name. Had she heard it before?

“Plenty of time to talk later, Dave. You hear of shock?” Ellis spoke quietly.

“Maybe,” answered Dave. “Most women would be crying and carrying on though. Can’t say I don’t like her reaction. Easier to put up with. Although there’s a ball gag in the dash.”

Ball gag? She bit her lip and swallowed convulsively, an action so awkward it hurt her throat.

“You plotting, Bianca?”

Despite herself, she jerked when Ellis used her name. Had she really thought they wouldn’t know it? Especially when they seemed well apprised of other things involving her father. A thought right out of the blue struck her with the same impact as a blow to the face might. Did they know where her mother was?

“I expect an answer, little one.” The velvety threat wove through his voice.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice. His hand grasped her upper arm and dragged her closer. His scent overwhelmed her, leather, gun oil and male. “Answer me. Are you plotting?”

“No,” she whispered. She stared into his face, the flood of lighting from the other cars’ headlights giving him a faintly demonic look. Had Mike seen that look in his eyes before this Ellis struck him down?

He released her with a slight smile. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it. If you try to escape you’ll be punished.”

Easing back, building distance between them, Bianca tried to get her shakes under control. So far he hadn’t hurt her, despite his obvious ability to do so. She decided not to think about what this Ellis meant by punishment, and instead considered what might lay ahead if she cooperated. They seemed professional, like her father’s bodyguards, although surely Mike had taken a stupid risk—and paid for it. She didn’t particularly care for the man, but now tears pricked. His sacrifice had been for naught. She could hope they would treat her like a valuable commodity—until she wasn’t.

 

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Excerpt:

Her head felt packed with puffed cotton and there was a definite thump in her temples. Bianca tried to swallow and the dryness made her grimace. She managed to get her right hand to obey her and cautiously reached to touch her head. It was present and accounted for, and the headache ratcheted up to a drumroll. Lord, she felt horrible and thought she might be sick. As she struggled to rise up on one elbow, the pinch of soreness made her wince, and a few things came back in one breath stealing surge.

“Here.” Ellis’s voice intruded and he leaned in to where she could see him through barely cracked eyelids. He had a glass of water in his hand and her body cried out for the moisture. Then she wondered what else was in it and held back, closing her mouth tightly.

“It’s only water.” He took a sip and offered it again, but she wasn’t touching anything anyone here offered. Ellis stared impassively.

With a start, she remembered the restraints, and realized she was no longer held in place. With nothing to prevent it, she rolled sluggishly away from him, and slipped off the bed, nearly falling, but somehow braced her weight against the mattress. She watched him warily, and aside from the straight line his mouth drew, he remained impassive.

Setting the glass down, he motioned to it and some towels on the nightstand. “I thought you’d want to wipe your face and quench your thirst when you … woke.”

Ah, more euphemisms. She felt her upper lip lift in a sneer and hoped Ellis marked it. Thoughts whirled through her head and she couldn’t grab onto one of them. She then judged the distance to the bathroom and wondered if her wobbly legs would get her there before Ellis intercepted her.

As if reading her mind, he stood. “You’ll be on your ass and I’m not letting you hurt yourself.”

A burble of incongruous laughter erupted from her belly and she tasted bile as she backed away. “You’re such a joke.”

Ellis was on her, that something unfamiliar now flashing across his face, and he scooped her up, déjà vu, only hustled her straight to the toilet. On her knees, Bianca retched, but miraculously everything settled without humiliating her further, and she dragged herself up with Ellis’s help. The chill of the porcelain bowl helped her focus.

“Stubborn wench.”

Flipping the lid down, he sat her on it with a thump, telling her to lean back. He grabbed a towel and wet one end of it. She accepted it and covered her face, willing him to leave. How had she ever thought to best this man at anything? Or shame him, for that matter, in appealing to his conscience. He was made of granite, now any need for the soft sell was over. It might be the aftereffects of the truth drugs, but she once again felt like a child. She knew he was still standing there. She could feel him and smell him, that scent she was beginning to associate with Ellis, like she was his dog or something. A bizarre vision of her in a collar, panting at his feet,

“You need a shower.”

Well, thank you, Captain Obvious. She longed to say that out loud but it might unlock the tenuous hold she had on all the things yearning to spill out—and peel the flesh from Ellis’s very bones. Like that would ever happen. So she bit her tongue, because she’d already called him a joke. Enough said.

“Save me from pretentious twits.” She heard him murmur it, as though he’d gritted his teeth.

A startled yelp escaped as Ellis took two strides and ripped her shirt open. Buttons popped free and pinged off the sparkling surfaces. One ricocheted off her forehead and she blinked. So not like the romance books. Gah, what was in those drugs?

“Get your jeans off unless you want me to do it.”

Scrabbling to pull the sides of her shirt together over her chest, she watched as he worked the taps, opening them wide and adjusting the spray of the shower until he appeared satisfied. The way his brows drew together when he turned to see her still fully dressed made her shiver. She loosened her grip on her shirt and fumbled with the snap on her jeans. It refused to give and her heart leapt into her throat when Ellis, with an impatient grunt, pushed her hands aside and freed it without any problem, tugging the zipper down.

“Up.”

She giggled this time, unable to contain the sound, and felt her eyes go wide at the incongruous sound. Sit. Stay. Down. Good doggie. She managed to stand, once again with help, and Ellis dragged her jeans to her ankles.

“You’re still impaired.”

Thank you, Mr. Observant. Maybe she said that out loud, because he stiffened. But when she dared a look, he was staring at her … panties. His head almost immediately tilted up and he met her gaze. She heard him mutter something about stupidity, and tried to muster up some indignation, but her head throbbed harder and she felt terrible.

Thinking he was trying to hug her, she put her hands between them to push him back, and felt him snap open her bra. She pressed her hands back against the cups and protested. “Don’t.”

“So you’ll talk if your clothes come off. Well, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. There’s nothing left for you to say.” Smirking, Ellis tugged her toward the shower and pushed her inside. “Do you need help?”

“No.” Killing was too good for him. He needed to suffer, and she hoped she found an opportunity to inflict it on him.

 

Author Bio:

 

Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.

Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.

 

http://www.allysonyoung.com

http://allysonyoung45@gmail.com

 

#NewRelease The Persecution of the Wolves by @LucyFelthouseWriter @EvernightPub #PNR #Shifter

Out Now – The Persecution of the Wolves by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #PNR #thriller #shifter

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Blurb:

Werewolf brothers Matthew and Isaac have lived in the peaceful village of Eyam, Derbyshire all their lives. The villagers know what happens every full moon, and have their reasons for keeping quiet. But this secrecy comes at a cost—the brothers can’t risk romantic entanglements.

Then, at the full moon, a sheep is slaughtered on Eyam Moor, by what could only be a large animal. Even the brothers’ staunchest supporters begin to have their doubts about who—or what—could have done it.

As the brothers fight to clear their names, things are complicated by unexpected opportunities to indulge their lust. Isaac is intrigued by a handsome newcomer to the village, and a vivacious visitor is happy to offer Matthew her all.

Can the men prove their innocence, or is their centuries-old secret about to be revealed to the outside world, bringing their carefully-crafted existence crashing down around their ears?

PLEASE NOTE: This book was previously published as Pack of Lies—the content has not changed. The novel also contains both M/F and M/M scenes.

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/the-persecution-of-the-wolves/

*****

wolvesteaser01Excerpt:

As Matthew and Isaac Adams opened the front door to their house, the telephone started ringing. Matthew sighed. “Typical. No rest for the wicked. I’ll answer it, you go and get ready for work.”

Isaac nodded and headed off to do as his brother advised. Matthew, the older of the two, walked toward the ringing phone and snatched it off the hook. Then, remembering that the person on the other end of the line would have no idea what a rough night he’d just had, he made the effort to inject some politeness into his tone.

“Hello? Adams residence.” Isaac had told him time and time again that the last part about the residence was old-fashioned, that people didn’t say that anymore, but Matthew couldn’t seem to shake it.

“Hello, Matthew? It’s Richard.” The village vicar’s voice, even though he’d only spoken four words, sounded strained, almost panicked. “You boys just get back?”

“Yeah, a moment ago. Why, what’s up?”

“I, uh… I got a call. A dead sheep has been found up on the moor. Not just dead. Mutilated. Like a wild animal attack.”

An unpleasant feeling wormed its way under Matthew’s skin and his stomach flipped. “Oh?” He paused, then figured he had nothing to gain by not saying the next words he wanted to. “You don’t think it was us?”

The vicar’s gasp was instant, one of genuine surprise. “Lord, no! Absolutely not. I just phoned to let you know and I was wondering if you’d come up there with me and take a look? You and Isaac are probably more qualified than anyone else in the village to tell what did this.”

“Isaac has to work, he just went to get ready. But yes, I’ll come up. I’ll let my brother know where I’m going, then I’ll be straight over. Are you at the rectory?”

“Yes. Okay, I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Matthew. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

Matthew hung up the phone with another sigh. The horrible feeling that had crept under his skin and taken over his gut seemed as if it was there to stay, and it was never a good sign. The vicar’s news was surprising, yes, but he also had an inkling that it was going to spell trouble, or at the very least, inconvenience for him and his brother.

Pulling in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his jangling nerves, Matthew walked upstairs and toward his brother’s bedroom. The door was closed. He knocked. “You decent?”

“Yeah,” Isaac replied, “close enough.”

Stepping into the room, Matthew looked at his brother. He was half-dressed, ready for his shift at the doctor’s surgery, where he was a general practitioner. “Sorry to interrupt, mate, but that was Richard on the phone. They’ve found a mutilated sheep up on the moor, and he’s asked me to go with him to check it out.”

Isaac paused with one arm pushed into his shirtsleeve. “He doesn’t think—”

Matthew cut him off. “No. He was quite adamant about that. He just thought we’d be able to help figure out what did it. I explained that you’ve got to go to work, though. I’m going to head across there now and go up with him.”

“I could phone in, let them know I’ll be late.”

Matthew held up his hand. “There’s no need, brother. Relax. Just go to work and help the sick people. I’ll let you know what—if anything—I find out.”

Opening his mouth, then closing it again, Isaac seemed to have thought better of whatever he was going to say. He continued to dress. “All right, I will. But make sure you let me know what happens. Send me a text or something, and I’ll phone you as soon as I have a gap in between patients.”

Matthew grimaced. He hated texting. Hated mobile phones, actually. Technology was one of the things he disliked most about modern-day life, though he realized it was a necessary evil. It solved as many problems for him and his brother as it created, so he dealt with it as best he could. Fortunately, Isaac had always had an affinity with computers and phones, so he tutored Matthew.

“Yeah, all right. I’d better go and find my phone first then, eh?”

Smirking at his brother’s rolled eyes, he left the room and headed for his own bedroom, where he thought he’d left the device the previous night before he and Isaac had headed for the caves. Immediately spotting the mobile phone—which Isaac often made a point of telling him was akin to a brick—he grabbed it, stuffed it into his pocket, and made his way downstairs.

Retrieving his keys from the hook by the front door, he called up to his brother. “I’m going now, Isaac. I’ll see you after my shift at the pub. I’m working until closing time.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to keep me posted!”

“I won’t.” As if he could forget. The dead sheep was going to be a big thing, he just knew it. The vicar might not think he and his brother had anything to do with it, but some of the other villagers might. When there was no proof either way, just his and Isaac’s word, it was understandable, really. Since he and his brother changed into wolves every full moon, it was a natural conclusion to draw. Particularly since normal wolves had been extinct in England for over five hundred years.

*****

Lucy_FelthouseAuthor Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9