An epic Book-Lover’s Prize! Big Box of Paperbacks Giveaway! #PNR #Fantasy


Welcome to the #PNR and #UF Giveaway Party!

Who’s ready for a giveaway you can get your hands on? A bunch of authors
got together to bring your this Big Box of Paperbacks Giveaway! One
lucky winner is going to win SIXTY-TWO (62) Paperback Books!
How’s that for an epic Book-Lover’s Prize?! If you are a fan of Urban
Fantasy, Dystopian Fiction, or Paranormal/SciFi Romance, you’re going to
want to get in on this! The best part is that even if you don’t win,
you’ll be subscribed to the sponsoring authors newsletters for a chance
to grab some freebies, snag some special offers, and enter more
giveaways!

 

Here are a couple of sneak peeks!

 

Excerpt from Foxblood: A Brush with the Moon by Raquel Lyon

The funeral was a typically sombre affair, alive with soggy tissues and streaky make-up. I stood at the back, letting the vicar’s voice wash over me, and spent the whole time staring at the flower-laden coffin, wondering if the lid would suddenly flip up and a fanged monster would escape to reap its vengeance on the congregation.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen, and as the mourners dispersed in the direction of the pub, I quietly snuck off home. I wasn’t in the mood for crowds and needed time to think, time to try to make sense of at least something, but as I turned to close the door, it was obstructed by a perfectly polished black shoe that belonged to…

“Sebastian?”

“Seb, please,” he said, easing his way through. “Only my father calls me Sebastian.” He checked down the backstreet and closed the door securely. His eyes scanned the flat. “Nice place.”

“I like it.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Living over a funeral parlour?” he asked.

“Why would it? The neighbours are quiet.”

He didn’t laugh at my joke; neither did he comment. He simply stood silently, staring. It was very unnerving and made my legs go all wobbly. Perhaps if I turned away from him, he’d disappear again? It was worth a shot. I forced my jelly legs over to the front window and stared out at nothing in particular. The light was subdued, and the sky had darkened to an air force grey. A low mist was beginning to carpet the distant fields, and I wondered if snow had been forecast.

I knew my little experiment hadn’t worked. He was still there. I could feel his presence and smell his scent, a musky, inviting aroma that filled my senses and sent my head into a whirl, and it was getting stronger.

“Your friends interrupted us the other day. Can we talk now?” he whispered softly into my neck, and his fingertips traced a fiery trail down my spine.

“What’s the point? There’s nothing to say. I wish you’d just leave me alone,” I said, lowering my head in time to see Lara leaving the newsagents. She glanced up with a look of fury contorting her face as Sebastian’s hands reached around either side of me and grabbed the window frame.

“I can’t do that. I’m not that strong,” he said.

I studied the arms now imprisoning me, with their perfectly formed muscles straining against the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt, and seriously doubted his statement. His stance was predatory and made me feel uncomfortable. I ducked under his elbow to escape, but he caught me around the waist and pulled me against him. Our bodies moulded together perfectly, and the strength of his grip made me feel like a china doll that he’d be able to crush in an instant. He was almost a full head taller than I was, and the warmth of his breath caressed my forehead. How easy it would be to reach up and taste those lips. I imagined the feel of them, and my own parted in an involuntary invitation.

The full Foxblood series can be seen here: http://foxifae.wixsite.com/raquellyon

 

Excerpt from A Generation of Vipers (A Shifter Shield Novella) by Margo Bond Collins

Available in Cursed: The Beasts of Summer (paperback only)

 

“Don’t panic,” Kade said that evening as he stirred a pot of his homemade spaghetti sauce. “It’s not like you’re bringing all these new lamia babies home to live in your house. We’re going to set up a group home for them, with a live-in staff. You’re their counselor, Lindi, not their mother.”

I poured a glass of Chianti and settled in on a barstool at the island in the middle of his large kitchen. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure a group home is the right way to go with these kids.”

“You signed off on it when we came up with the idea.” He narrowed his eyes at me and tasted the sauce, then added something to it. “Janice thinks it’s the best option we have,” he added, knowing that the leader of the shifters’ Council had been tutoring me in all things shapeshifter recently, and that her endorsement mattered to me.

“Yeah, but…” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I was trying to say.

As usual, I didn’t have to find the exact phrase for Kade to understand. Or any words at all. “You’re worried that without a stable home-life, you won’t be able to give these children the same kind of emotional training that your parents gave you.”

I nodded and took a long drink.

“We can provide stability. Everyone wants this to work.”

“Not quite everyone,” I muttered darkly.

“Everyone who is directly involved wants this to work. You cannot be completely responsible for the entirety of the lamia race.”

“It’s more than that.” I considered what to say, how much to share of my own recent insights. “We will have plenty of other weres stepping in to help raise these kids, lots of people to teach them how to be solid shifter citizens. But until they’re grown, I will be the only adult lamia in their lives. I will be the only weresnake they can model themselves on. That feels like a lot more responsibility than simply being their counselor. In that sense, I am kind of responsible for the entire lamia race.”

“Your parents did fine with you, and they’re not shifters at all,” he pointed out.

“But they managed it by encouraging me to focus almost entirely on my human side. I would like to give these children even more.”

Turning down the heat under the sauce, Kade put the wooden spoon down and made his way around to my side of the counter, where he spun the seat of my barstool around until I faced him. Then he took my face in his hands and leaned his forehead against mine. “You’ll do a great job with them.”

Then he pressed his lips against my mouth.

As usual, his kiss almost took my breath away. We hadn’t been together long enough for the sense of wonder at his touch to fade. The sheer heat of our connection didn’t show any signs of abating, either. The brush of his tongue against mine sent sparks shooting through my veins to pool in the pit of my stomach. It wouldn’t take much to stoke that heat into a raging fire.

But if we did that, his lovely dinner would be ruined.

Not that I cared.

 

 

 

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