Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Dirty Ball: Jungle Beauty Goddesses by Cassandra George Sturges



Dirty Ball
Jungle Beauty Goddesses
Book 3
Cassandra George Sturges


Genre: Fantasy, Fiction, Mythology Erotica

Date of Publication:  November 10, 2019


ASIN:  B08192Q5HZ

Number of pages:  150
Word Count:  44,790

Book Description:

The Jungle Beauty Goddesses: Dirty Ball- Book 3 is a story about love… the familial love and loyalty of family and the unbreakable bond between the seven sisters… and the power of love and how it plunges, crashes, and melds beings of different realms and realties. The Jungle Beauty Goddesses Series has been coined “Nubian Mythology a Modern Creation Story.” All life is created by sexual energy—this story is not meant to be erotic—it merely captures the sensuality of the universal powers and enthralling forces that make us human, frail, mortal, and vulnerable.




Excerpt 3
I activated the divinity codes from the trees of knowledge because I wanted to be a hero, someone that my people could look up to and respect.  Where did I go wrong? Please. Can you help me, Afar?”
“Dahling, you don’t want to be a hero. Let some common foolish humans do that. It is not a good look for a man of your stature. Heroes are the worst kind of predators, but oppressed people don’t know it because the hero is the middleman between God and the Devil. Heroes need people. People don’t need heroes. The word itself implies that someone needs to be a hapless victim, unable to navigate circumstances beyond their control. Heroes are predators who feed off people who have not awakened into the power of their inner god. Heroes need someone to feel inferior so that they can feel superior. They need things to be broken so that they can feel good about themselves by fixing them. Heroes are pathetic beings because humans don’t fear or respect them. They are only as valuable as their last good deed.
You assumed that you were helping people when you planted the seeds of civilization, and tricked them into cultivating and toiling the land to build their collective invisible prisons. You gave them the illusion of limited time and resources. This is the price for human evolution. You did this, Mada. This is all your doing. You can’t be the villain and the hero.



About the Author:


Cassandra George Sturges is the author of “A Woman’s Soul on Paper,” “Success and Beauty is an Attitude,” “The Illusion of Beauty: Why Women Hate Themselves and Envy Other Women,” and “Why Racism is a Mental Illness.” For many years, she was an advice columnist for Today’s Black Woman Magazine and is currently a full-time psychology and sociology professor at a college in the mid-west. She is a high school dropout who graduated with her General Education Diploma and eventually earned five college degrees including two masters and a doctorate degree. In her late forties, she began making life-size fabric sculpture, cloth dolls that turned out to be the main characters in her Jungle Beauty Goddesses coming of age, modern creation Nubian Mythology fantasy fiction, sensuous, romantic series. She is the mother of two adult children, a grandmother, and for over 20-years has shared her life with her twin flame.








a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Symphony of Starlight by Allison Pang #UrbanFantasy #AbbySinclairBook4



A Symphony of Starlight
Abby Sinclair
Book Four
Allison Pang

Genre: Urban Fantasy


Date of Publication: 10/8/2019

ISBN: 978-0-9985343-4-3
ASIN: B07YDZFDFV

Number of pages: 304
Word Count: 97k

Cover Artist: Ravven

Tagline: Sometimes you have to go to Hell to give the Devil His due…

Book Description:          

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions . . . and sometimes unicorn puke.

In the span of a few months, mortal TouchStone Abby Sinclair has been trapped in a painting, had her memories stolen, and been Tithed to Hell, killed, and brought back to life by the OtherFolk. Now she’s pregnant and torn between her incubus lover, Brystion, and her elven king of a husband, Talivar. Otherworldly love triangles notwithstanding, she’s more than content to set the political drama of magic and mayhem aside and quietly settle into motherhood. But nothing is ever that easy . . .

Years ago, Abby’s best friend, Melanie St. James, virtuoso violinist and DoorMaker to the CrossRoads, lost her soul to the Devil in return for an enchanted violin. Now the magic of her violin is fading, and the Devil is calling in her debt to serve Him as His TouchStone. In an effort to escape the terms of this reckless bargain, she flees to the CrossRoads with her lover, Nobu.

But reneging on a deal with the Devil isn’t the wisest of moves, especially when He knows Abby is the only one who can bring Him what He wants. And when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Abby and her friends to find a way to stop the violin from consuming Melanie’s soul before it’s too late, even if the journey takes them straight into Hell itself.

eBook On Sale for .99




Excerpt:

“Well, I’m running out of ideas. What about the thread?” I asked Kitsune. “You gave me a spool of red thread once to help me find Talivar or my destiny or something like that.”
            Ion and Talivar blinked at me. “Destiny, is it?” Talivar said wryly.
            “It led me to the tent with your horses,” I explained. “I’m not sure it worked the way it was supposed to, but you did show up afterward, so who knows?”
            Kitsune brightened. “Ah yes. The red thread of Fate. A useful spell at times, though I don’t know if it will work for us here. Depends on how entwined you and Melanie are. It might not even lead you through the Gate at all.”
            She paced, her fur seeming to shimmer slightly, and then one of her tails somehow plucked a spool from the air and deposited it at my feet. I picked it up, Brystion craning to see it curiously.
            “And what is that all about?” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the way it feels.”
            Kitsune cackled. “Mortals are bound by Fate more so than OtherFolk. It’s often wrapped so tightly around them they don’t even notice it. You were never one for such things, aye?”
            He grunted at her and rolled his eyes. For a heartbeat, I could see his natural form, the dark skin, the antlers, the hooves . . . the bells braided in his hair with red thread. My mouth quirked, but I said nothing. Perhaps the incubus was bound more by Fate than he liked.
            I rolled the spool in my hands, taking one end of the thread. It shivered between my fingers, almost like touching a live wire, jolts of power zipping beneath my skin.
            “Focus,” Kitsune snapped. “What is it you really want? Where do you want to go?”
            I shut my eyes. Melanie, I thought. I need to find her. I need to fix this. I need to save her.
            The thoughts repeated over and over in my head, and as before, the spool jumped from my hand and rolled across the ground toward the Gate. Talivar skirted out of the way as it hurtled toward him, swearing softly.
            The Gate lit up in an instant, the spool shunting through and disappearing in a splash of silver and gold, the red thread trailing like a tail behind it.
            The fox limped over to the Gate, sniffing at the corner. The corruption on her side grew more pronounced, but her three tails lashed wildly, coating her fur with a silver light. “Abby! Let’s go! Before it closes!”
            She shifted slightly, her paws becoming humanoid, and she snatched at the hand holding the thread and pulled me hard, the pair of us tumbling through the Gate. “Wait!” We swept through the entrance, but my voice was enveloped in some sort of film, a quiet I couldn’t seem to break through.
            I reached for the others, but it was as though I was looking through water, a barrier stretched between us that I couldn’t quite reach.
            The thread. I clenched my fist. I was still holding the goddamned thread. What happens when the thread keeping the Gate open goes through, Abby? What?
            “It fucking closes,” I said. “That’s what.”
            I struggled against Kitsune’s clawed grip. “We have to go back . . . The others . . .”
            “There is no time.” Her voice was hollow and empty as she staggered beside me. Her tails dragged limply across the ground, the dark magic beginning to move along her fur again. “Must make it . . . Inari.”
            And then she was tumbling forward, the track we were on abruptly disintegrating beneath our feet. I snatched at her, and the two of us fell, fell, fell, the red thread wrapping around us.

About the Author:


Allison is the author of the Urban Fantasy Abby Sinclair series, the IronHeart Chronicles and the writer for the webcomic Fox and Willow. She likes LEGOS, elves, LEGO elves…and bacon.

She spends her days in Northern Virginia working as a cube grunt and her nights waiting on her kids, cat, and an obnoxious northern breed dog, punctuated by the occasional husbandly serenade. Sometimes she even manages to write. Mostly she just makes it up as she goes.






a Rafflecopter giveaway

Charm Me Again by Tena Stetler - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza



Mystery of the Missing Christmas Lighting Display

As Christmas approaches one family tradition is to drive the neighborhoods enjoying the Christmas lighting displays everyone puts up.  The last few years there have been less and less.  I understand, as our own lighting display has been downsized.
Last year many around our area protested a utilities rate hike in November set to reap the benefits of those who put up Christmas lighting displays.  Yes, sadly we were one of those, since the year before our December utility bill had been a lot higher than in previous years.  We couldn’t afford another huge increase, and the deliberate timing of the hike was deliberately grinchy, so we put up only the minimal lighting display. It was a sad year for enjoying Christmas lights displays.
This year, the rate hike will be put off until January as in previous years, except last year. Wise decision utilities department. The lightening displays have returned, and ours included.

The real point of this post is for many years, we watched a certain home in our area add to his homemade Christmas display and looked forward to seeing what had been added each year. It was not religious in nature, but fun. 

There were Peanuts characters, then Tweety Bird and its companions, Little Mermaid, the Grinch, Disney Characters, Winnie the Pooh and pals, just to name a few, all homemade. Spotlights illumined the display.  Suddenly about four years ago, not only were there no new characters, but the display disappeared entirely. Each Christmas we checked, still the house was dark, no sign of the previously wonderful Christmas light and character display. 

Had they moved, after all this is a military town, people come and go a lot? Was there a family illness or emergency that caused the display to go missing?  While we reveled in the other fantastic lighting displays, we were saddened as we drove past the dark house checking each year.

No we never knew the people who lived in that house. But we felt a connection to them watching the display grow year after year.
On December 10, 2017, we clambered into our truck, hot chocolate in hand, to go check out the neighborhood Christmas lights. With trepidation we turned the corner where the darkened house had been for several years. Lo and behold, in all its previous glory the Christmas lights and beloved characters were on the front lawn, house and roof.
We were ecstatic to see the house lit up once again, the Peanuts merry-go-round spinning slowly, all the other cartoon characters smiling broadly. No new characters, but that was all right because the decorations were back. 

We took pictures, and decided to share the beloved display with you. Funny how one thing can brighten your spirits as that house did ours that night. 

This year I believe we will go back to that house and knock on their door and tell them how much we have enjoyed their display throughout the years. Also how much we missed it when it was gone.  Christmas lighting is a time consuming, expensive endeavor and a labor of love. To those of you who set up Christmas displays year after year, THANK YOU!

Please share your Christmas Traditions with us in the comments.



Charm Me Again          
Sequel to Charm Me
Tena Stetler

Genre:  Paranormal Romance/Mystery

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Date of Publication:  December 9, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-5092-2973-4
ASIN:  B07ZDKKC4N

Number of pages:  336
Word Count: 85,360

Cover Artist: Kristian Norris

Tagline: Breaking the curse is only the first step to forever.

Book Description:

Daylan, a warlock, is being haunted, but what the ghost wants is a mystery. His magical powers bring him no closer to an answer—until he encounters Josie, a Yoga instructor.

But when she is kidnapped by an ancient Fae Warrior set on revenge Daylan must rescue her before the rogue claims her as his own. During his quest, his world spirals out of control, and a devastating curse comes to light. Could the ghost hold the answers he needs?

Can he break the age-old curse to save Josie and their future, or will Daylan lose her forever?

Amazon      Amazon UK       Amazon AU      Amazon CA

BookBub     Goodreads


Excerpt
Suddenly, the wind changed direction, a thin maroon line formed along the flat bottom of the dark clouds spreading across the sky where moments before there’d been only a few fluffy cotton ball clouds in a sea of blue. The maroon line widened then switched to vertical and spread open to reveal a shimmering interior.
Shadows emerged from the cloud then disappeared. As he was about to comment, huge raindrops plopped on the ground followed by pea size hail that grew to softball size.
Josie ran for cover and he followed. Protected under a ledge, she cupped her hands over her ears as the roaring of the storm combined with huge ice balls smashing against rocks echoed through the canyon. She elbowed him and cocked a brow in question, pointing to the vegetation that remained unharmed.
His eyes narrowed. Something isn’t right. I can feel it. Magic is spinning this storm. But who—how and why? At a loss for answers, he shrugged and urged her further under the ledge to wait out the storm. Brushing the wet strands of hair out of her face, he smiled. She looked like a drowned rat but the fragrance around her reminded him of sweet spring flowers. He leaned into to her and brushed his lips over hers. Immediately, he straightened and backed away. Her eyes were still closed. Maybe I could’ve lingered…

Her eyes blinked open and she licked her lips. After a beat, she waggled a finger in front of him. “Not a good idea.”




About the Author:



Tena Stetler is a best-selling author of award winning paranormal romance novels. She has an over-active imagination, which led to writing her first vampire romance as a tween to the chagrin of her mother and delight of her friends.



With the Rocky Mountains outside her window, she sits at her computer surrounded by a wide array of paranormal creatures, with a Navy SEAL or two mixed in telling their tales. Her books tell stories of magical kick-ass women and strong mystical males that dare to love them. Travel, adventure and a bit of mystery flourish in her books along with a few companion animals to round out the tales.

Colorado is her home; shared with her husband of many moons, a brilliant Chow Chow, a spoiled parrot and a forty-five-year-old box turtle.  Any winter evening, you can find her curled up in front of a crackling fire with a good book, a mug of hot chocolate and a big bowl of popcorn.
















a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Scot’s Pledge by Sky Purington


A Scot’s Pledge
The MacLomain Series
End of an Era Book 1
Sky Purington

Genre: Time Travel Fantasy Romance



Date of Publication: December 17th, 2019

ASIN: B07XH58Q4F

Number of pages: 180 pages
Word Count: 61K

Cover Artist: Tara West

Tagline: From friends to lovers, forbidden passion sparks between a modern day woman and a medieval Highland warrior.

Book Description:

Accustomed to watching over things for Clan MacLomain and their Viking ancestors, Julie had given up hope of traveling back in time for love like those before her. Until the day an old friend turned crush shows up on her doorstep in New Hampshire claiming he needs help in fourteenth century Scotland.

Having pledged to help his clan, Laird Tiernan MacLomain searches for his destined Broun in the twenty-first century. Yet he only wants the woman he's secretly loved for years. So he breaks the rules and brings Julie back to the medieval period with him. She might lack the bloodline needed to harness the power of the Claddagh, but he won't leave her behind.

Together, they embark on a whirlwind quest to protect King David II against Edward Balliol and his disenfranchised nobles, the 'disinherited.' They also face a dark threat nobody foresaw. Will Tiernan and Julie defeat it without the power of predestined love? Or will breaking the rules be their ultimate downfall and Scotland's ruin? Find out in A Scot's Pledge, an emotional and passionate journey into the turbulent onset of the Second War of Scottish Independence.


Excerpt

He had her figured out. But of course, he did. He was her best friend. “How did you get that out of everything I just said?”
“Actually, I’ve sensed it for quite some time now.” He remained perfectly blunt. “When you opened the door tonight, I knew you felt just as strongly as me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do.”
“How?”
“Your heart for starters.” His eyes twinkled. “’Twas about pounding out of your chest.”
“Maybe I’d been dancing...” yeah, right, so weak, “with my friends.”
The corner of his mouth shot up. “To Christmas music?”
“It can be upbeat.”
“You hate dancing.”
“I hate sucking at dancing.”
“You dinnae suck at dancing.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“You just havenae had the right partner.”
“We’re talking about upbeat dancing,” she reminded.
“Nay, we’re talking about you trying to do what you think is the right thing,” he replied. “Pushing me away when all you really want to do is find out what it would be like…at last.”
He was way too on to her. Yet what precisely was he referring to? It sounded like they might be off the topic of dancing and on to something else. “Being cryptic like your father again, I see.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Definitely not dancing. Right?
“No clue.” But she could imagine so very, very well.
“You want to know what it would feel like to dance with me.” His tone dropped to a sexy octave that about curled her toes. “Then, mayhap more.”
“Definitely not interested in dancing,” she lied then grabbed at anything she could. “Okay, I’m just gonna give it to you straight.” She thought fast and came up with the perfect argument. “I think your magic going all wonky has you struggling for normalcy, something dependable, and that’s always been me. So you’re latching on to what makes you feel like you still have control over things.”
“Latching on?” he murmured, his gaze all smoldering-bedroom-eyes now. “Good idea.” His magic wasn’t so wonky that he couldn’t flick a wrist and turn the music up. Before she darted away, he reeled her close. “You’re right. Latching on to you does make me feel better.” His eyes met hers. “In control, as you say.”
This was so not a good idea. Stay strong. Step away. Think of Scotland. All the lives depending on him. You’re his voice of reason. Yet, just like it had when he embraced her earlier, all logic fled the moment she was in his arms. Her inner self-coach threw in the towel at the feel of his hard body. At the look in his gorgeous eyes.
She was in way over her head here.
Scratch that. She’d already drowned.
“You are not entirely right, though, Jules,” he murmured, tilting her chin until her eyes didn’t stray from his. As if they ever would. “This doesnae feel normal in the least.”
Had she mentioned normal at some point? Because she agreed, this felt anything but. She felt electrified, on fire, like the room—no, the whole house—was fading away. All that existed was him. His hot as hell face, his eyes, lips, the tiny braids in his hair, the plaid wrapped over his broad shoulder…
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed, realizing too late he’d pulled her right into his web.

The room was really gone.

About the Author:

Sky Purington is the bestselling author of over fifty novels and novellas. A New Englander born and bred who recently moved to Virginia, Purington married her hero, has an amazing son who inspires her daily and two ultra-lovable husky shepherd mixes. Passionate for variety, Sky's vivid imagination spans several romance genres, including historical, time travel, paranormal, and fantasy. Expect steamy stories teeming with protective alpha heroes and strong-minded heroines.

Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up with Sky’s latest news and releases? Either visit Sky’s website, www.SkyPurington.com, join her quarterly newsletter (https://bit.ly/2Mw0yyO), or sign up for personalized text message alerts. Text ‘skypurington’ (no quotes, one word, all lowercase) to 74121 or visit Sky’s sign-up page (https://mobile-text-alerts.com/subscribe/skypurington). Texts will ONLY be sent when there is a new book release. Readers can easily opt out at any time.

Website:   www.skypurington.com  

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2hCKgWa 




Facebook:   https://bit.ly/2NlcFLB





a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Oakly’s Christmas Present A Short Story By DK Davis


Oakly’s Christmas Present – short story
(Include characters from Secret: Of Amber Eyes)
By DK Davis

“Oakly, you’ll find someone. Don’t look so down.” Morgan, my twin brother’s soul-mate, patted my shoulder.

Rowan stepped next to her, never leaving her side for long. His arm went possessively around her waist. He punched my arm and grinned, and then led his woman toward the kitchen table.

Watching my brother and Morgan instilled the deep loneliness plaguing my cougar, like a blade stabbing my chest. I needed the forest, an escape from the crowd of family and friends sitting around the table and working on Christmas decorations for the fortress we all called home. The place, for all its space, gave me a fit of claustrophobia.

I snuck out the front door. Brisk air and tufts of falling snow threw my cougar into an adrenaline rush to run. The animal scratched against the inside of my skin. I jogged down the porch steps and into the trees, dropping my clothes next to a giant oak and shifting into my animal.

Four large paws carried me for miles away from home. I crossed a couple of dirt roads and continued through the thick forest, cutting footprints through the snow. The wind picked up, and gray clouds blanketed the rising moon. The cougar’s night vision kicked in, and I stopped to sate my thirst at a babbling brook.

When I raised my head, a force hit my senses so hard it knocked me on my butt. I shook my head to get a bearing of what drew my complete mind and body. Then a shriek followed by a snarl, close by, across the stream. I launched over the water at full speed.

Snapping jaws, growls, and yips, I scented wolves.

A cat screamed and snarled in a way to scare off a predator or to defend itself. Another scent filled my olfactory, female cat, not a cougar. I bounded through the dense shrub sounding like an army and blew through the other side with the effect of distraction.

A bobcat surrounded by three wolves. She stood her ground, but red colored the snow around her. All wolves stared my way.

I roared my deepest snarl and charged, the only thought snapping through my mind, save her.

Two of the wolves sprang toward me, leaving one for the she-cat. I caught one by the throat, shook the hell out of him and tossed him against a tree trunk. The other had jumped on my back and snapped his jaws over the back of my neck. Its claws caught my shoulders and my back haunches.

I ran straight at a downed tree, flipping into it, so the wolf caught the sharp branch. The teeth piercing the sides of my neck released, and I pulled away from its claws. It fell to the ground, the branch protruding from its back, and then it crawled away.

The she-cat held her own, snarling and clawing, but the wolf clenched his jaws on a front leg. Bones snapped, and the she-cat went into a biting frenzy across the dog-faced snout. I pounced on the wolf’s back, sinking my claws around its neck. The she-cat dropped from its mouth, and I forced the wolf away, and then gave chase until the distance satisfied me.

When I got back to the Bobcat, she lay on her side, panting and looking like a bloody mess. Her head lifted as I stepped closer. I crouched beside her and licked at the wounds. She lapped at the gouges on my neck. After a bit, we both settled together and slept.

* * *
Someone shook me awake. As I opened my eyes and yawned, the morning sun created a glistening coat of mini prisms across the snow.

“What the hell are you doing way out here? You’re miles from our territory.” Rowan eyed me. “It looks like a bloody war zone. You’re covered in blood and a significant amount of another cat’s scent, brother. A shifter. Care to explain?”

I glanced next to me. An imprint of the she-cat’s smaller body had colored the snow dark red. She’d vanished. I jumped onto my four-paws. Sniffing the air, I noticed the smaller-sized paw prints leading in the opposite direction of home.

“Come on. Everyone is worried about you. A lot of them are out looking for you.” He huffed. “You didn’t let anyone know you went for a run.”

Everything inside me said to follow the she-cat shifter, but I knew she would come back here as I would.

Rowan pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Dad, I found him. Let everyone know. It’s going to take us a while to get home.” Then he paused, listening. I heard him explaining where we were and to use the tracking app to find his phone. It sounded like someone would be driving a vehicle to a close location.

My attention faded in and out from his conversation as my head filled with thoughts of the female Bobcat.

“I will come back to see you tonight like you want to do,” a female voice filled the inside of my mind like a loud whisper.

I instantly shifted into human form. “Hey, tell me why you and Morgan can mind-communicate.”

“Good grief. Your junk’s gonna freeze. I didn’t bring any clothes for you.” Rowan grinned and pointed.

Yea, parts of me wanted to hide from the cold, but most of my body remained hot-blooded. “I gotta know about you and Morgan.”

“Fine, but we gotta jog. Dad’s going to pick us up on a dirt road a few miles away.” Rowan picked up the pace. “Morgan and I exchanged blood, and because she’s my soul-mate, we can mind-communicate. I understand that only happens with a soul-mate.”

“Does your soul-mate need to be the same kind of shifter?” My head reeled with the thought.

* * *
“You’re not leaving the fortress tonight. Tomorrow’s Christmas and your mother will have my hide if I allow you to go for a run like you did yesterday.” Dad’s eyes narrowed, but his focus wandered. “Unless you drove the truck to the spot where I picked you up. Then I’d know you’d get back here before morning.” His intense gaze landed on me. “The only reason I’m considering this is from the questions you asked Rowan. And you can thank him that he talked about it to me.”

Dad handed me his keys. I ran out the front door before he changed his mind.

Darkness had already settled over the tree line as I parked along a small clearing off the edge of the dirt road.

As I climbed out of the truck, her presence melded into mine and shivered through my body. “Where are you?”

Her scent drew me farther into the forest, and then I saw her. Beautiful long platinum-blond hair drifted down her shoulders. Smoldering blue eyes met mine. She lifted away from the large oak tree she’d leaned against and ambled toward me in a sleek feline two-legged prowl.
My breath left me and then came back in a gasping gulp, leaving me dizzy and drunk on her scent. My legs finally mobilized, and I strode to her, wrapping my arms around her.

She slid her hands around the back of my neck. Her fingers twined into my hair. I leaned down, and she lifted on her toes, lips uniting in a crash of cracking whips and stormy lightning. My whole body blazed in fire for this meek little woman, but then, nothing about her seemed timid.

Her tongue ran across my lips, sending a tremor through me. She giggled. Her hands pushed my chest, and we broke apart.

“My name’s Sky. I believe you’re my Christmas present for life.” Her smile radiated through my chest, stealing my voice.

“I believe you’re my life Christmas present also,” my mind-communication responded.
“Let’s go meet my parents, and then we’ll meet yours. We have a lot to talk about.” Sky reached for my hand, and when our fingers wove together, my cougar agreed we’d both found our most significant other.

I drew her back to me and sealed our moment with a kiss. Sky’s tender lips sent my cougar into purr-mode, something I’d never experienced before tonight. Then, Sky’s bobcat answered with a contented purr. “Merry Christmas,” our mind-communication whispered as one.



Secret: In Wolf Lake
D.K. Davis




Genres:  SciFi, PNR



Publisher:  BWL Publishing, Inc.  


Cover Artist: Michelle Lee

Date of Publication: January 1, 2017

ISBN: 9781772993899
ASIN: B01N7O41FM

Number of pages: 120
Word Count: 41,200

Tagline: Samantha discovers a gifted creature living in Wolf Lake; now his life depends on her saving him.

Book Description:

Samantha’s dealing with a lot of emotional blow-back from her mother’s new marriage. Then she discovers a gifted creature living in Wolf Lake, and life suddenly becomes all about keeping his existence a secret, earning his trust. That is until his life depends on her saving him. But she won’t be able to do it alone…

Amazon     BN     Kobo      Smashwords


Secret: At HL Woods
D.K. Davis

Date of Publication: December 15, 2017 

ISBN: EPUB 978-1-77362-990-2
ASIN: B077ZT2H5V

Number of pages: 199
Word Count: 60,200 words

Tagline: A high school ghost-seer, an all-star jock, and a bully, cross paths, sparks spew, and lives change…

Book Description:

Bri, a seventeen-year-old ghost-seer, keeps her ability under wraps at the new school until a murdered couple from the 60’s asks for help.

Kyle, a high school jock, realizes the new girl lives next door; she’s crazy cute, goth-odd, and too convenient to ignore.

Max, Kyle’s best friend, only sees Bri as a wicked threat.

Luke, Bri’s gay best friend, moves in for the summer, escaping his abusive father.
Paths cross, sparks spew…will anyone remain the same after?

Amazon      BN       Kobo      Smashwords     Books2Read


Secret: Of Amber Eyes
D.K. Davis

Date of Publication:  November 2018 Release

Kindle 978-0-2286-0621-5
Amazon Print 978-0-2286-0623-9
ASIN: B07KGGHG3P

Number of pages: 197
Word Count:  58,500

Tagline:  Instinct draws Morgan and Rowan together, a human and a shifter, until a wildcard wildcat threatens Morgan’s life, changing her forever.

Book Description:

Morgan Redding, a seventeen-year-old high school graduate, gets sent to her aunt and uncle’s wildlife rescue and preserve, a therapeutic place for not only nature.

Rowan Marcus, an eighteen-year-old cougar shifter, helps at the wildlife refuge. He’s part of a secret society of shifters guarding the preserve lands.

Instinct draws Morgan and Rowan together.

Then one wildcard wildcat within the shifter community kills for the needy, but the killing escalates and threatens Morgan’s life, changing her forever…

Amazon      BN     Kobo       Smashwords

Excerpt from Secret: Of Amber Eyes

Word Count - 964

“Gotta’ run honey,” she said over the glass sunroof of the Cadillac. “Our flight leaves in four hours, and I still have a few things left to pack.”
I immobilized as Mom dove into the car to retrieve her phone. She tapped the screen and started the car.
I didn’t wave as she shifted into gear and drove off with her cell phone stuck to her ear. 
She never even glanced my way. 
From my peripheral, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Becka looked at each other. They weren’t smiling anymore. Mom had never said a word to either of them. She didn’t say goodbye to me, either, unless I counted the trail of dust marking her exit.
Good riddance. Oh, and have a happy life with Jack.
My stomach fluttered, and the inside of my throat tightened like it might collapse in on itself. A load of moisture gathered, blurring my vision. Some trickled alongside my nose. I’m not crying. Extra baggage doesn’t cry; instead, I go to prison.
My body relaxed as if a heavy weight shifted and slipped off. Why not make the best of this crappy situation? I was on the back burner, but not being dumped down the garbage disposal. I wiped away the water littering my face and picked up my two duffle bags. Aunt Becka scooped up my backpack; her thick long blond braid slid over her shoulder.
“This way, dear. You’ve come at a good time with the weather. We’ve got a warm streak going. It isn’t normally nice warm temperatures until much later in the summer.” Aunt Becka led the way into the house. She wore faded denim shorts with a baggy sky-blue T-shirt, short white socks, and high-top hiking boots. She and Uncle Charlie were sun-browned and looked the same age as Mom. The muscles in Aunt Becka’s calves stood out as she climbed the circular stairway.
She continued, “It’s still pretty cool in the mornings and later in the evenings, which makes for great sleeping weather.”
At the top of the stairs, I walked across the open loft to the wall-sized window, dropping my bags mid-way.
Two bright red barns stood off to one side. I recognized the green T-shirt and dark blue baseball cap Uncle Charlie wore. He pushed a wheel-barrow into one of the barns. Another guy walked behind with a huge bag of something balanced on his shoulder. The muscles in his arm bulged. He stopped in mid-step and swung around to look upward, at the window, and then at me.
My stomach suddenly churned into warm pudding as our gazes collided. The guy’s eyes glowed, amber, a trick of the sun I was sure. My breath sucked in.
Aunt Becka stepped beside me and glanced out. “Oh, that’s Rowan Marcus. He’s here pretty much every day helping with chores and with the other kids that aid us at the refuge.”
Rowan swung around and followed Uncle Charlie into the barn. A tremor slid through me, and then I exhaled, realizing I’d completely stopped my lungs from working. What the heck? Amber eyes?
Aunt Becka pointed to the other side of the barn toward tall wire fenced-in areas. “We keep recovering deer or goats in those.” Then she pointed along the outside of the barns, to smaller wire pens. “Those hold fawn or other small animals that need special care.”
I attempted to stay focused on her words, but the image of Rowan and those eyes. My brain fogged over with his image burnt on the inside of my eyelids.
She waved a finger at the dirt paths that connected everything and waited until I looked to continue, “We have cleared pathways to every area that requires our attention, and that tree line marks the perimeter into our wildlife preserve. We own a lot of forest acreage that’s a safe place for our healed wildlife to live.”
A.K.A. my prison grounds.
She squeezed me to her. “It’s wonderful here. I know you’ll love it as much as Charlie and I do.”
I didn’t know how to respond, other than to go rigid and silent. My aunt acted like this was going to be a vacation for me, not punishment. Pulling away from her, I paced the room, taking inventory. Aunt Becka watched me from near the window.
A bed, nightstand, desk, and dresser, all built of knotty pine or logs. A narrow door opened to a closet and beside it, another narrow door led into a small bathroom. Most of the walls and all of the ceilings and floors were knotty wood. No carpet, no curtains. Like being inside a sterile prison, not that I frequented the inside of a real prison cell, but this shiny clean room gave me the impression of ‘no fun, all work.’
I plopped down on the bed and bounced on it a little. Comfortable.
“So, Kate said you and your step-dad are kind of on the outs with each other.” Aunt Becka strolled over and plopped on the bed beside me. “To be honest, Charlie and I didn’t even know Kate had gotten married.”
“Let’s just say I’m used to Mom having flings with her escort men, but she’s never married one of them,” I said, the words slipping from my mouth like a spray of negative ick.
Aunt Becka frowned, and then her face softened. “You’ve had it tough, haven’t you?”
I stared at her, another question I didn’t know how to answer. My nose tingled, an itch inevitable. So, again, I blurted, “No, I’ve been just fine. Mom and I played our roles the best we knew how, and then our roles changed. That’s all.” I rubbed the crap out of my nose, jumped off the bed and unzipped one of the duffle bags.



About the Author:

DK Davis writes YA sci-fi, supernatural, and fantasy with a good dollop of all the relationships woven in between. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, spending time with grandchildren or her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

She also writes mainstream supernatural, suspense-thriller romance as S. Peters-Davis.











a Rafflecopter giveaway