Thursday, June 30, 2016

#GiveAway - COWBOY PLAYER by Mia Hopkins - Cowboy Cocktail series

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This cowboy and cowgirl sell the steak and the sizzle….

Visit the ranch in COWBOY PLAYER, the third book in the Cowboy Cocktail series by Mia Hopkins...


Grand Prize: $10 Amazon Gift Card + Digital Editions of the Entire Cowboy Cocktail Series
2 Runner-Ups: $5 Amazon Gift Card + Any Backlist Mia Hopkins Title


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For eight years, Melody Santos played the game of love and lost—big time. Now she’s back in her tiny hometown looking after her younger sister, making ends meet with an assortment of odd jobs. When her childhood best friend hires her to help him sell his family’s grass-fed beef, the last thing she anticipates is falling in lust with the legendary, brown-eyed player.

To put his family’s cattle ranch back in the black, Clark MacKinnon has his sights set on big contracts—gourmet chefs and restaurateurs. If that means long hours traveling from farmer’s market to farmer’s market, Clark doesn’t mind. Particularly since his new assistant is his childhood crush, all grown up and sexy as hell. 

One night in bed leaves them breathless and hungry for more. But when his love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation collides with her trust issues, Clark and Melody must face the truth about what they’ve become: not friends, not lovers, but players in a game that’s impossible to win.

Warning: Contains filthy banter, raunchy sex, excessive Johnny Cash references, and hundreds of pounds of raw beef.

On Sale in Digital: June 28, 2016

 Add COWBOY PLAYER to your TBR pile on Goodreads!

On the record player, the next track started. Guitar licks, drums, a little fiddle—Melody knew the song at once.
“Oh man,” said Clark. “‘Troubadour’. This a good one. Dance with me, Mel.”
He pulled her off the sofa before she could say anything. Wrapped up in the arms of a big cowboy was not a terrible place to be, so Melody danced with him, barefoot in her parents’ living room, the slow two-step a song both their bodies knew the words to. Her laughter died away, giving way to a quiet sense of vulnerability. The verses slid by like a dream, erasing the burden of loneliness she’d been carrying for so long. It had been months since she’d been this close to a man. It had been years since she’d felt this close to one.
Clark could read her mind. “So what was his name again?” he asked softly. “Scott?”
“What happened?”
“A slow-motion disaster, that’s what happened.” She rested her cheek against the hard, hot wall of Clark’s chest. “He was a musician. Fun. Exciting. He said I meant the world to him. But I suppose the world wasn’t enough.”
“What do you mean?”
It was still hard to say aloud. “He cheated on me. It had been going on for months. When I found out and confronted him about it, he broke down said he was sorry. We tried to put it past us. We even went to therapy. But it was all a lie. He left me when my mom passed away.” At first, the pain had been excruciating, dulled only by grief and the weight of her new responsibilities. “Eight years, down the drain.”
“That’s a long time. Did you ever talk about getting married?”
“He said he didn’t like labels.” She sighed. “Which was also a lie, because he married the other woman in Vegas in February.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.” Clark gave her a squeeze. “You know, if you were mine, I’d hold on to you for good.”
“Sure. Until the next piece of ass came along.”
“Never seen a piece of ass like yours.”
“That’s the friend talking. Your dick might say otherwise.”
“My dick, huh?” Clark laughed quietly. “You’re welcome to check with my dick yourself. He doesn’t talk loud, so you’ll have to get down on your knees to hear him.”
“Seriously, Mel. You don’t know what you’ve got going on. Smart as all get-out. Hell, you run circles around me, and I’m a genius. And you’re funny too. Ain’t many women who can make me laugh. You’re one of them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aw shucks, Ma. Next the cowboy told me I was real purty.”
“Fuck pretty. You’re beautiful.”
It was too much. Danger. “Clark—”
“So beautiful. I always thought so.” He gave her a sad smile. “Honest to God.”
The heat rising between them cooked her brain. She was at a loss for words. “Thanks.”
“No thanks needed. Just stating the obvious.” They danced until the song ended on a ribbon of steel guitar. Clark leaned down and pressed his lips to her temple.
Melody gasped.
Instead of pulling away, he traced a slow, agonizing trail of kisses along her hairline until he was kissing her neck just behind her ear.
Pleasure overloaded her nervous system, but her brain wouldn’t let her enjoy it. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.”

See what people are saying about the Cowboy Cocktail series:
“Wow, wow, and wow…The love that blossoms between [the hero and heroine] is unrushed, genuine, true. *sigh* I loved this book from start to finish and highly recommend it, and not just for fans of western romance.”
           —Goodreads review, 5/5 stars

“The writing is excellent, the emotions leap off the page, and the sex is downright earthy…This is a feel-good romance with a strong, career-minded heroine, a swoon-worthy working class hero, a great setting and lots of lovingly detailed sex.”
             —Jill Sorenson, RITA-nominated author of romantic suspense

 “Mia Hopkins one of the most exciting new voices in red-hot contemporary romance. Add her to your must-read list. Now!”
-Samanthe Beck, USA Today Bestselling Author

“Mia Hopkins' sexy cowboy hero and sassy bookish heroine burn up the pages from the moment they lock eyes.”
-Cat Johnson, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

“Beautifully, sexy and full of yearning!”
-Delilah Devlin, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

“I love this author’s writing style; her prose is beautiful, and I can definitely see myself checking out her future work. I’m wondering if Caleb’s brothers will feature in future books?”
-My YA & NA Book Obsession

"I love a story that surprises me by putting a different spin on the standard trope of boy meets girl...Mia Hopkins is an imaginative author who doesn’t take the easy road to a formulaic book." 
Becky Condit, USA TODAY Happy Ever After blog

"This erotic romance is seriously dirty. Dean and Monica play hard....I have also read the first book in this series, Cowboy Valentine and recommend it as well." 
Jennifer Porter, Romance Novel News

Check out the other books in The Cowboy Cocktail series!

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Forget chocolate and flowers. This homegrown honey is all the sweetness he craves.

Small-town life is nothing but a waiting room for eighteen-year-old honor student Corazón Gomez. Work and school leave little time for love, but with a full-ride Ivy League scholarship and a one-way ticket out of the boondocks, who needs it?

The answer appears on Valentine’s Day when her old cowboy crush ambles into the ice cream parlor where she works, inviting her to go on a late-night ride in his truck. For the first time she wavers between staying on the straight and narrow, and going off-road with the handsome heartbreaker.

After four years working on ranches all over the country, Caleb MacKinnon is back on the family farm helping out his mom and brothers while his father fights cancer. The one bright spot: smart, funny, and wickedly sexy Cora.

From the start, they both know this blazing-hot love affair can’t last. But when autumn comes and Cora has to leave for the East Coast, Caleb must find a solution to keep himself—and his heart—from falling apart.

Warning: Contains hard, cherry-poppin’ sex in a pickup truck and a cowboy charmer who talks dirty in two languages.

Book 1 Available at: 
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Google Books | Kobo | BAM

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Ball-busting business woman meets no-holds-barred cowboy. He’s gonna need a longer rope…

Marketing hotshot Monica Kaur has put her big-city life on hold to help bail out her brother’s failing business. Now she’s got three months to plan and promote a rodeo, the first her tiny hometown has ever seen.

To ensure the rodeo’s success, Monica enlists a local hero, a rancher’s son who’s made a name for himself on the bull-riding circuit. Problem? She can’t stop daydreaming about the cocky bastard—and all the things she longs to do to him out behind the chutes.

Professional bullfighter Dean MacKinnon is home helping his family while his father fights cancer. Haunted by bad memories, jaded by love, Dean finds escape in a no-strings-attached go-round with brainy, sexy Monica, whose close-knit Sikh-American family would sooner run him out of town than see her with a notorious rodeo Romeo.

In private, Monica and Dean play as hard as they work. But as the rodeo draws near, that clean break they promised each other is getting more and more hung up in the rigging.

Book 2 Available at: 
Amazon  |  B&N  |  iBooksKobo  | Goodreads

Author Bio:

Inline image 1Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She's a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends.

When she's not lost in a story, Mia spends her time cooking, gardening, traveling, volunteering and looking for her keys. In a past life, she was a classroom teacher and still has a pretty good "teacher voice" and "teacher stare."

She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and two waggish dogs.

You can also visit her online at the following places:

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#SpotLight - The Raven's Trail By Liz D. Marx

The Raven's Trail
 (Book 1)
By Liz D. Marx


Since she was a child, Chloe Doyle has had vivid dreams about a Native American prince living in a time long forgotten. When she finds a stone that matches the one in her dreams, she accidentally unlocks immense powers she can’t control. Fueled by memories of someone else’s past, she sets off on a wild quest for the stone’s birth place, hoping to find answers to her foreboding dreams. But she ends up finding much more than that, in the form of a man who will test every ounce of her patience. 
On the outside, Mason Green seems like a hard-hearted, no-nonsense type of guy, with too busy a life for romance. Very few people know the real reason for his self-imposed seclusion. It’s safer that way. But when Miss Chloe Doyle barges in, he’s forced to get out of hiding and face the ghosts of his past.

Liz D. Marx has been a published author since 2011, under the pseudonym of Ella J. Phoenix. With more than five paranormal novels and four awards under her belt, she’s now tapping into a new genre with the launch of her romantic series, The Raven’s Trail. 

Her novels are passionate tales of love, filled with edge-of-your-seat action, a touch of mystery and lots of magic, of course. 

If you want to know what she’s up to, like her page on Facebook or Twitter @LizDMarx

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

#GiveAway #CoverReveal - DALIR’S SALVATION, The Song by Nina Crespo

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First Look Celebration for DALIR’S SALVATION, The Song by Nina Crespo! 

Will the two of them be strong enough to fight for their newfound love – and their lives?
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Nina Crespo is celebrating the upcoming release of DALIR'S SALVATION, The Song! She's sharing special sneak peek excerpts and offering prizes. Don't forget to sign up for her newsletter for exclusive excerpts and special giveaways in celebration of the third book in this sexy alpha male series.


Ari is looking to live a normal life. But after she hits her head, normal is no longer an option. A mysterious, rugged man appears, whom only she can see…each night he fulfills her fantasies and leavers her begging for more. She’s sure he’s a figment of her imagination – until she finds o, to truly be with him, Ari will have to embrace the parts of herself she’s been desperately keeping at bay. Dalir’s been burned by love before, yet he can’t resist Ari’s beauty and charm. And all it takes is one kiss to spark nights of passion. But there’s danger on the horizon that only Dalir and his friends in the band Thane’s Redemption can deal with. And the longer he stays with Ari, the greater the peril to them both. Will the two of them be strong enough to fight for their newfound love – and their lives?

Read and exclusive excerpt from DALIR'S SALVATION:

Ceremonial or battle uniform? The two options lie next to each other on the back of the velvet and wood chair. Dalir chose the black torso plate of his battle armor. (read more)

Pre-Order this title at these online retailers:

Add it to your TBR today!
Check out the other books in the The Song series by Nina Crespo!

The one night she'll want to remember, she'll be forced to forget.

It's been almost a year since Celine's fiancé's death and she's still struggling to move on. But when she meets Thane, the super hot lead singer of Thane’s Redemption, she finds her desire reawakening, and her heart opening. Soon one kiss leads them straight into a night of heated passion…

Thane’s unexpected connection with Celine only leaves him wanting more of her—but his life makes it impossible. For Thane's Redemption is just a cover for a deeper secret: A former Army Ranger presumed dead, Thane is really a time-traveling, covert operative charged with saving the world from disaster. Each jump through time forces those around him to forget he ever existed—and Celine would be no exception. But can time work in their favor to give them a second chance at love? Or will a choice Thane makes in the future put Celine in mortal danger?...

Book 1 Available at:


Lauren isn't looking for love when she spends a scintillating night with Reid, the sexy keyboardist of Thane's Redemption. While their passion may be off the charts, her trust issues--and Reid's secret life as a time-traveling covert agent--makes any chance for a relationship impossible. 

When operatives involved in a mysterious project begin dying, Reid defies orders and travels alone into the future to find the cause. But when things go dangerously awry, it takes all of his strength to get himself back to safety--and directly onto Lauren's doorstep. While neither of them remembers their night of passion, their intense connection leads Lauren to help him. But as Reid's memories reignite, will he be forced to sacrifice everything to finish his mission--including the woman he loves?

Book 2 Available at:

Author Bio:

Nina Crespo lives in Florida where she indulges in her favorite passions—the beach, kickboxing, a good glass of wine, and dancing. Her lifelong addiction to romance began in her teens while on a “borrowing spree” in her older sister’s bedroom where she discovered her first romance novel. Curiosity about people and places, including what’s beyond the stars, fuels her writer’s imagination. Indulge in her sensual contemporary stories and steamy paranormal tales to feed your own addiction for love, romance, and happily ever after.
Need Nina?

​Follow Nina:
Website Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | FreshFiction |BookBub | Authorsdb

Don’t forget to enter to win prizes!
Prize: 3 Winners Will Receive one $10 Amazon Gift Card Each

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Monday, June 27, 2016

#Spotlight - Blood Curse By Ella J Phoenix - Dragon Heat series

Blood Curse 
Book 5 of the Dragon Heat series
By  Ella J Phoenix


Descendant of a Cherokee shaman, Dyam is one of the vampire king’s personal guards and closest advisors. He has seen the worst of mankind and has vouched to stay away from personal entanglements and focus on serving his king. His resolve is shaken when Naiah, the water witch, finds her way into the busy vampire castle’s life and straight into his heart. But before he can nurture his feelings for her, she is killed in battle, causing Dyam to return to his self-imposed seclusion for good.

Little does he know that Naiah has been brought back to life by his kind’s most infamous enemies. She is their ultimate weapon in a final battle that will rupture not only the balance of the supernatural world, but Dyam’s loyalty to his race.

***Warning: this novel contains hot, steamy, descriptive sexual scenes. Enjoy.*** 

Genre – Paranormal Romance 
Publication date – May 1, 2016
Publisher – Self Publishing 
Word count - 98,500

Buy Links:
Amazon |  iTunes |  Kobo |  B&N | AllRomanceEbooks | Smashwords 

Black soot coated the ground matching the dark clouds that covered the crescent moon above. The air felt hot and dry against Dyam’s skin. Vampires didn’t do well in hot climates, especially ones so close to an active volcano. Sitting on top of one of the most unstable areas in the world, Mount Raung, in Indonesia, was 1,600 feet deep, and stood almost 11,000 feet above sea level―yes, it was massive. But if that didn’t impress you, well, all you had to do was climb to its top rim and gaze across the mouth that spanned across over a mile in diameter. 
Dyam had done just that. 
After materializing at the base of the great volcano, he slowly, carefully and methodically, made his way up, analyzing every boulder, listening to every sound and watching every shadow. Long Nose had been right―this volcano offered the perfect site for someone who wanted to carve a magic dagger out of its ashes, and at least it looked like it offered more flakes of dried lava than the other two volcanoes Dyam had inspected before this one. To the right, he spotted two lava pools. One looked older and deeper than the other. Dyam had researched the volcano before venturing down there, of course, and what he had found was encouraging. Mount Raung was the latest volcano to erupt in the world, and its dust cloud had been so dense that residents within a two mile radius of the caldera fled their homes, scared by the imminent eruption. Its site was so unstable that the villagers lived in a constant state of alert. 
“Here,” a male voice resounded in the distance. “This area seems like a good site.” 
Dyam crouched low on the ground at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. It seemed he had company.
“Not sure,” another male replied. “The ground doesn’t look as dry as we need it to be.”
Careful not to make a sound, and keeping his body hidden from view, Dyam made his way towards the two men. A sharp sound of metal hitting rock made him pause. 
“Watch it, Osman,” the first male complained. “If one of these chards gets into my eye, it can blind me.” 
“There isn’t another way of doing this, Vrajitor. We must hack into the stone and try to get a large piece in one go. Believe me, I’ve done this before.”
Vrajitor and Osman... Dyam had heard those names before, but he couldn’t remember where. 
Crawling low, as close to the smut as physically possible, he reached a boulder large enough to give him cover. More chopping sounds emerged from where the two men were, and Dyam poked his head to the side, nearing the ground so as to not alarm his company of his presence, but it wasn’t enough. His vantage point gave him a very limited view of what those two were up to. Learnings from his training as a tracker came to mind―a good tracker becomes one with his surroundings. But how would he become one with a volcano? 
He looked at the soot covering the mountain.  
An idea popped into his head. As quickly and as quietly as he could muster, Dyam smoldered the black dirt all over his beige shirt, dark jeans, face and hands, until only his eyes were clean from the grunge. After that, he dared poke his head out of hiding a little bit further, and as he had predicted, the two men didn’t notice a thing. 
The one called Vrajitor was tall, with narrow shoulders, small light eyes and greasy brown hair. His body structure and the way he carried himself told Dyam the man was obviously a draco. His friend, Osman, was not though. The white turban, yellow tunic and dark eyes left no doubt of his origins. He was a daemon from the Dry Lands. 
Dyam frowned. What in Hiad was a desert daemon doing with a draco? Were these the ones planning to bring the Phoenix back to life, by carving out an ash-dagger from this volcano? Connecting the dots, he played the scene in his head. The two, for some obscure reason, had joined forces to rise the Phoenix from the ashes and since they had lost one of the daggers in the jungle, it made sense that they had to return to the volcano to dig up another one. But what in Hiad they were doing at the Emerald Lake still puzzled him.
Dyam’s expert gaze roamed around the area, taking everything in, anything could be an invaluable clue. There were two bags on the ground, next to Osman. One looked empty, probably the bag where the acquired slab of stone would go once their mission here finished, but the other bag looked full and heavy. Since the two odd companions seemed too busy to notice him, Dyam stepped out of hiding, and dared to crawl his way behind another boulder, which would give him a better vantage point. As soon as he did, his eyes locked on the beautiful woman sitting on the ground not far from him. She wore a light camisole that looked much too big for her, her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and slender torso, and her sun-kissed skin was flawless and smooth. 
Dyam’s breath got caught in his throat, his stomach falling suddenly heavy, his mind crashing. 
By Apa Dobrý, it couldn’t be, but the lady looked exactly like Naiah! 
He must have called her name out loud, not only in his head, because the lady in question snapped her head toward him, catching him red handed. She blinked a couple of times, her mouth gaped as if in awe and confusion. 
And then she stood up. 
Big mistake. 
“What is it, my bird?” Osman asked, alarmed. His concerned gaze travelled across the rocky field, and found Dyam half way out from behind the bolder. “Vrajitor, we’ve got company!”
Damn the Soartas. 
The draco dropped what he was doing and advanced toward Dyam with his axe in hand. Dyam jumped to his feet and prepared for battle, focusing on his adversary but at the same time, his mind kept the attention on Naiah, or whoever that lady was. Osman darted to her side, grabbing her by the elbow as if she were his property, and she didn’t rebut him.  
Vrajitor finally lunged at Dyam, swinging his axe across in an obvious attempt to cut Dyam’s head off. But Dyam had centuries of combat training under his belt and easily dodged the attack by balancing his feet from side to side. Without breaking the rhythm, he then lifted his foot up and kicked Vrajitor on the chest, making the draco lose his balance and plummet on the soot-filled ground. Even though it was a point to Dyam, the strike didn’t keep Vrajitor down for long, and in no time the bastard bounced on his feet, ready for another round. 
From the corner of his eye, Dyam saw Osman resume carving the rock, now in a much more desperate manner. Naiah’s double stood close to him, but her eyes were on Dyam. 
The axe whooshed past Dyam’s ear, too close for comfort. Time to end this and get Naiah―or whoever that lady was―out of here. Yes, because by no means he’d leave without taking her with him. She couldn’t possibly be Naiah, but the resemblance was too remarkable to be ignored. She was definitely a water witch and looked to be here of her own free will, but Dyam couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that something much bigger than mere coincidence was at play here. 
A large cracking sound echoed in the open space, followed by a victorious howl from Osman. “I got it! I’m out of here, Vrajitor,” the daemon bellowed, then, without waiting to see if his accomplice would win the fight, he darted down the volcano, holding Naiah’s look-alike tightly by the hand. 
Vrajitor glared at Dyam, his mouth twitched on the side on a weird grin. “See you later, vamp,” he sneered, then turned around and ran off. 
Fuck that! 
Dyam didn’t waste a second, and sprinted after them. 
A race between a daemon, a draco and a vampire could have been the news of the century. The last time such a contest had been seen was during the Royal Open Games, a few decades ago. The vampire won. 
Dyam put everything onto his legs and quickly closed in on the three escapees. Vrajitor darted left, taking flight with his leathery wings, while Osman swerved to the right, obviously wanting to confuse Dyam in the process. They would probably use the two-against-one advantage to ambush him farther ahead, and their plan would have worked, if Dyam’s target hadn’t been Naiah’s double, not them. 
As soon as Vrajitor and Osman widened the gap between them, Dyam jumped in the air and teleported straight between the turbaned daemon and the lady. His intention had been to kick Osman to the side, and dematerialize out of there with the lady in tow, before the daemon had the chance to recover. But as soon as Dyam’s body cells started materializing again next to the daemon, the air changed around them, giving away his intentions. Osman, who was probably a seasoned daemon and sensed his approach, swerved sideways and threw his sharp axe at Dyam. The silver blade flickered against the moon light, and hit Dyam across the upper arm, opening a gash on his skin, causing him to lose his grip on the teleportation. But before he lost total control, he forced his body sideways toward Naiah’s double, and locked her into a tight embrace. If he was going down, she’d go with him. 
It all took less than two seconds and with the supernatural seep and forces at play, Dyam ended up tossing Naiah downhill. The two of them rolled down the mountain aimlessly at breakneck speed, crashing against rocks and anything else that crossed their path. When they finally came to a halt at the base of the mountain, Osman and Vrajitor were nowhere to be seen. At least something was working in their favor. 
Dyam shook his head, trying to kick it into gear. His shoulder was bleeding heavily, his ribs were burning like fire, and his ankle was already swelling from a possible fracture. And yet, he couldn’t care less. The woman sprawled on the dirt a few feet away was his one and only goal. 
By Apa Dobrý, the resemblance was truly incredible. She couldn’t be Naiah herself, of course. Maybe she was Naiah’s twin sister, but Yara had never mentioned Naiah having a twin. His mind reeled at a million miles per hour trying to decipher what in Hiad was going on. The Emerald Lake had evaporated, seemingly as part of a ritual to rise the Phoenix from the ashes, and now Naiah’s doppelganger showed up. He then remembered that they had never managed to find the red lily which should have encased Naiah’s inmã... No, this could not be Naiah. Naiah was dead. She died in his arms only a few months ago. 
Feeling his healing power kick in, Dyam turned on his belly and balancing himself on all fours he pushed off the ground. He needed to check on the lady, see if she was hurt and look into her eyes to find the truth about her identity―
A bare foot moved through the air, hitting him square on the nose. 
What the fuck? 
The kick had not been powerful but took Dyam by surprise and down back to the muddy ground he went. When he turned around after recovering from the shock, he found Naiah’s double towering over him. Her cold glare clearly stated she wasn’t happy, but it was the confirmation he needed. Because he’d seen that look before, it was the last one Naiah gave him before they parted ways.
“Naiah? Is that you?” Dyam asked, flabbergasted. 
But this new Naiah didn’t heed him any attention. Without a word, she grabbed a chunk of his long hair at the top of his crown and punched him across the face. 
Argh! “Naiah, do you remember me?”
Another cross jab, then another. 
Why in Hiad was she attacking him? 
On the fourth strike, Dyam’s patience came to an end. He was a gentleman, raised by a Cherokee shaman, a man of peace, who had taught him that a men should never raise a hand at a woman. But the same man had also trained him to survive and defend himself, no matter who or what he was against. 
Dyam grabbed Naiah’s closed fist mid-air, blocking her attack. She retaliated by gripping his neck with her free hand and using him as a lever to kick him on the gut. 
Fuck. That hurt. 
She then jumped in the air in an unexpectedly smooth back flip, freeing herself from his grip. 
She didn’t stop though, and threw a series of kicks, followed by cross punches that would floor the most experienced boxer to the ground. Dyam managed to block every single one of them but knew that blocking wouldn’t keep him standing for long. He would have to fight back at some stage. 
When she shifted her feet again, gathering momentum to start another series of deadly attacks, Dyam crouched low and lunged himself at her, locking them into an angry hug, and lifted her off her feet. The move gave him momentum, and he didn’t slow down until they crashed against a tree. He felt her exhale sharply, as if the impact had whooshed the air out of her lungs. That’ll teach her. But his vengeful thought quickly turned into awe. Standing inches from face, Dyam couldn’t help it but to gasp once again at this lady’s resemblance to Naiah. 
Thankfully, due the collision she would likely need time to catch her breath, which would give him time to recover from the shock. 
Yeah, he couldn’t have been more wrong. 
Her closed fist hit him right in the mouth of the stomach. The pain that shot up and down his esophagus was so blinding that bile built at the back of his throat.
“Argh!” he yelped, but he knew he couldn’t miss a beat, not while this crazy version of Naiah was kicking his ass. So without losing his grip on her, he grabbed a handful of hair on the crown of her head and rammed it against the tree trunk. 
A grunt escaped her lips, and the punching stopped. 
He then used the few milliseconds he knew would be the only break he’d have, to swivel her around, forcing her to face the tree trunk, and locked her in his arms, his front to her back. Next, he ensured her deadly fists were detained in his grip, safely away from his esophagus, and that she’d have no way of getting loose, but she still struggled against his hold. 
“Stop,” he whispered against the back of her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
To his surprise, she did stop. They were both panting from the fight, and remained there for a few heartbeats. The scent of wild flowers invaded his nose, flaring his nostrils and mind in recognition. This was Naiah’s scent. Well, it was the same yet different at the same time. The closeness of their bodies added to her delicious scent proved to be too much for his confused mind to handle, and unable to stop his reaction, he winced when his groin throbbed for her. 
“Who are you?” he asked in her ear, but it came out a few octaves below normal. 
He received no reply so he took advantage of their apparent cease-fire and spun her in his arms. Now they were face-to-face once again. 
And his brain crashed.
“Naiah,” he exhaled. Smooth cheeks of sun-kissed skin, framed by dark, wavy locks, a small, cute nose above red, thick, juicy lips. By Apa Dobrý, this couldn’t be, but there was no mistake. The woman in his arms was Yara’s tribal sister. She was Naiah.
When Dyam’s gaze finally landed on her large brown eyes, he saw his confusion and awe reflected in them, and for a moment he experienced a wave of utter connection, as if Naiah had never died. 
For a moment. 
Out of nowhere her gaze turned cold, her brown eyes turned white, and her irises narrowed into thin slits, as her lips lifted into an ugly growl. 
He swallowed dry. “Naiah?”
Then her once cute fingers morphed into sharp black claws.
“Naiah, wait.” 
The sharp claws grew longer and longer, and no matter how much he tried to hold them down, they lashed at his face mercilessly. The damned woman was going to shred his face into little pieces, yet he held on to her despite the pain. By the gates of Hiad, he would not let her go. 
Well, at least, that was his plan before something gripped him on the back, followed a wave of electricity that travelled up his spine. Unable to control his movements any longer, Dyam crashed on the ground, contorting profusely from the electric shock. 
From the corner of his eye, he saw Osman smirk at him, with the high voltage Taser gun firmly in his hand. The bastard then grabbed Naiah by the elbow and walked away without hurry. He knew very well it would take a good half hour for Dyam to recover. 

Damned gods.

About the Author:
I was just nine years old when I discovered my passion for the paranormal world. That passion led me to a bachelor’s degree in Performing Arts where I had my first taste in writing, conjuring children’s plays and re-writing Shakespearean masterpieces to suit the modern times (Yes, he’s still cringing in his grave).
After years traveling around the world, translating other people's novels and devouring paranormal romances, I realized the real world wasn't fun without a touch of magic, and decided to purge my own crazy stories into paper, well, into word doc, to be more precise.
My busy life with a demanding full-time job and a very loving husband (I'm so not complaining!) don't allow me much spare time, but somehow every night I find myself in front of the computer, exorcising the millions of stories stored in my sanity-challenged mind.
My novels are tales of love and passion between strong female leads and hot heroes, bathed in paranormal magic, of course.
I live in Sydney, Australia, the land of koalas (which are not bears), kangaroos (which are not boxing champions) and Vegemite (a black spread that should have never been invented. Seriously, don’t try it).
If you want to know what I’m up to, just find me on

Connecting  with Ella J Phoenix: 

Ten things you didn’t know about Ella J Phoenix:
1. I really suck at interviews
2. I love cheese more than I love chocolate
3. I love wine more than I love cheese... no, actually that’s not true. 
4. I love a good debate
5. I hate politics
6. I truly believe in destiny 
7. Mainly because I met my husband is a true destiny-knocking-on-your-door kind of situation
8. I’m a frustrated actress who found her spotlight in singing 
9. I’m a frustrated singer who found her voice in writing 
10. I’m addicted to awesome paranormal romance as much as you are

One Minute with Ella J. Phoenix:
Where do you do most of your writing?
In my guest bedroom/home office, away from everything else. 

Who are your favorite authors?
Oh, they are so many! Jane Austen, Nahili Singh, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Christine Feehan, and all the great indie authors out there! 

What's the one genre you absolutely will NOT write about? Why?
I never say never, but “Self Help” books are not my thing. 

Do you use people you know as characters? And do you tell them if you do?
Maybe and maybe… but you’ll never know. :)

Have you had any creepy fan experience yet?
No, not creepy, but I’ve had a few fans contacting me on Facebook as they read my novels. It was awesome to experience their journey through the story with them. It’s the best compliment an author can have in my opinion. 

Does your family know about ALL the books/stories you've written, or are you keeping a few hidden?
My immediate family are my biggest fans. But unfortunately, sex is still a taboo in many communities, including mine. Not everyone understands how liberating a good erotic romance can be. Maybe one day we’ll be able to share our stories without the fear of retaliation and hypocritical judgement. 

Last, but not least, is there anything you would like to say to your fans?
I write because I have a million stories and characters in my mind. It’s my therapy, my escape from reality, my happy place. Without you, my fans, I would be just a crazy woman locked in a boring day job or in a mental institution. So, thank you for your support and I hope my novels bring magic into your days as much as they bring to mine.