Abbie Roads's Never Let Me Fall Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

I am so excited to have Abbie Roads here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Abbie and Source Books for allowing me to join your Never Let Me Fall Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Abbie!

Excerpt

She’d loved Rory the way any naive girl could love a boy. Their relationship had been a sweet exploration for both of them. It hadn’t been complicated or difficult. It had been nice and easy and, for her, different. He had been her first in so many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first lover. Her first heartbreak.

“Oh, Rory.” She whispered the words — not quite ready to let the world have the full volume of her voice. “Everything was so normal one moment, then the next you were dead and everyone blamed me.” The situation had been horrible all around, but one thing had made it even worse for her — knowing that someone had killed Rory and gotten away with it. She wanted to promise him that she’d find his real killer. But she didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep.

No tears came for Rory. Just as she’d had none for her grandparents when she’d visited their graves, minutes ago. The only thing she felt was regret that so many people’s lives had been shattered. Rory’s. His mother’s. Her grandparents’.

She tore her gaze away from the gravestone and the pain it represented.

A man stood no more than fifty feet from her. Tall and… Strong came to mind. It was more than the width of his shoulders; it was something about the set of them, as if he carried a heavy burden. His hair was so dark it rivaled the majesty of the night sky. But it was his eyes that enthralled her.

From that distance, she couldn’t see their color, but she could see kindness in them. Maybe it was the way they tilted down at the outer edges to lend a strange understanding to his expression. But then his lips moved, sliding upward, into a look of undiluted male satisfaction.

Her heart warmed under his appraisal, and the weirdest sensation came over her. It took a moment for her mind to match a word to the feeling — pleasure. She basked in the glory of his attention. Everything inside her wanted to go to him. Meet him. Talk to him. But the thought of speaking, of sharing that piece of herself that she’d kept hidden away for so many years… The mere thought terrified her. Her voice had been the only part of the past ten years that she’d retained control over.

All the warmth she got from being the center of his focus turned to ice. She wasn’t fit for public consumption. Fairson Reformatory for Women had fractured her as neatly as a broken bone. Now she needed time to heal. Oh, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration her status as a felon. As much as she wished it wasn’t true, people would judge her for the rest of her life on that murder conviction.

She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, couldn’t bear to see him looking at her. Without any hesitation, she turned and walked away. Her legs felt gangly and awkward, as if they didn’t want to obey her bidding, but she forced her feet to keep moving.

Don’t look back. Don’t look at him. Don’t you dare.

She clenched her fists so tight they shook. A deep, throbbing ache formed in her palm where the Sister’s blade had sliced her. Exactly what she needed. She thrust her fingers wide open, stretching the injury, allowing the burning pain to vanquish all thoughts of the man.

One step and then another, she walked through the wrought-iron cemetery gates and headed out of town toward her next destination. The cold didn’t bother her. She’d planned to be outside all day and had made sure to purchase thick, warm clothing.

She followed the strip of road as it wound its way through the naked woods and low hills. Salt crunched beneath her insulated boots, the sound rhythmic and soothing. Occasionally a car passed, but for the most part she was alone. Alone was nice. Alone meant she was safe. Safe from the Sisters for the first time in ten years.

Some women spent years planning for their wedding. She’d spent the past decade planning for this day. The day she walked out of prison.

She used to fantasize about Grandma making all her favorite foods. The joy of sleeping in her own bed. But Grandma and Grandpa had died in a car accident on their way to visit her three years ago. And then she’d had to sell the house.

It’d taken a while, but she’d formulated a new idea. Visit the graves of everyone she’d lost, visit the Bear, then find a place to stay. She’d give herself one night — maybe two — to say a final goodbye to the life she used to lead and then move on. Move away from this place that represented so much pain.

About the Book

Seeing is believing

Thomas Brown can’t see color, but he can see people’s true souls. His abilities allow him to work with criminal investigators and deliver justice to families of the wronged. And he’s starting to accept that his life will forever be in black and white.

Then he encounters Helena Grayse, and everything changes. She brings vibrant color to his world, and he brings acceptance and belief to hers. But Helena’s past is quickly catching up with her, and Thomas is in the crosshairs.

As an enemy hidden in plain sight threatens their every move, they’ll have to rely on their love to beat the darkness.

What People Are Saying About Abbie Roads:

“A dark and intense romance that pulls no punches and offers plenty of mind-bending twists.”— RT Book Reviews for Hunt the Dawn, 4 Stars

“A haunting story about love, redemption, overcoming the past, and acceptance.”— Harlequin Junkie for Saving Mercy

“Roads blends high-action romantic suspense with the paranormal to tell a love story.” — Booklist for Race the Darkness

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2AqbZjH

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Indie Bound: http://bit.ly/2Ard4rT

Release day: November 6, 2018

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Paige Tyler's Wolf Rising Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

 

I am so excited to have Paige Tyler here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Katie and Source Books for allowing me to join your Wolf Rising Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Katie!

Excerpt

“Thanks for helping with the salad,” Selena said, peeking around his shoulder and watching him work. “But I’m almost afraid to ask, where’d you learn how to handle a knife like that?”

Brooks chuckled as he peeled another carrot, then made a quick series of julienne cuts to turn it into long, slim pieces slightly bigger than matchsticks. “I’d love to tell you I picked up my knife skills in the CIA or someplace cool like that, but to be truthful, my mom taught me. She loves all those cooking shows on TV and makes me watch them with her every time I visit.”

When Selena didn’t say anything, Brooks turned his head to see her standing beside him with a stunned expression. “What, did I just blow your whole image of me by admitting that?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out how you could possibly get any better. You’re attractive, heroic, show up for our date on time, bring wine, help me make dinner, and now I find out you visit your mother. It’s enough to make a girl wonder what kind of deep, dark secrets you’re hiding behind those captivating eyes of yours, because nobody’s that perfect.”

He could think of one deep, dark secret he was definitely hiding that he’d love to tell her about, but he resisted the urge. Selena wasn’t ready for something like that yet. Then again, was she likely to handle it any better after dinner? For that matter, was it going to be any easier for her to take three days from now?

Probably not. But like Gage had said, it was up to Brooks to figure out when and how to tell her. He only hoped he didn’t screw it up.

“Trust me, I’m far from perfect,” he finally said with a little laugh as he finished cutting the carrot and added it to the salad. “Just ask the other members of my team. They’ll be quick to point out all my faults and failures.” Selena leaned her hip against the island, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she gazed up at him with those beautiful dark eyes of hers. “You realize you’re just making it worse, right?”

“What do you mean?”

It was kind of hard to think clearly when Selena was this close to him. The scent of arousal that had been coming off her since he’d first walked in the door was captivating. Brooks wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but he assumed it was some kind of subconscious reaction on her part. Maybe her inner werewolf taking notice of him as an alpha.

He’d considered slipping off to the bathroom to send a quick text to Khaki and ask if she knew why a female werewolf would put off pheromones like this but quickly decided against it. Mostly because he had no idea how he could possibly bring this subject up in a text to a woman, even if she was a member of his pack. Selena continued to gaze up at him, eyes like two deep pools of melted chocolate. For a moment, he thought she might actually kiss him, but then she spoke.

“I’ve met lots of guys who think they’re all that and go out of their way to tell every woman they meet. Yet here I am showering you with compliments, and all you can say is that you’re far from perfect. Trust me, women like a man who’s both sexy and humble.”

Brooks snorted. “I’m not sure if many women out there would agree with you. If they did, I probably wouldn’t still be single.”

Selena shrugged, the movement doing amazing things to the cleavage exposed by the curve-hugging dress she wore. “I can’t say for sure yet, since we just met, but something tells me the reason you’re single is that you’ve been hanging out with women who don’t know what they’re looking for in a man — or wouldn’t know it when they see it.”

Brooks considered the single real relationship he’d had and the string of short-term failures and decided Selena was pretty spot-on. Most of the women he’d gone out with hadn’t seemed to know what they wanted out of a relationship. Or they’d wanted something completely different than he did. On the flip side, he was man enough to admit he’d rarely known what he’d been looking for in a relationship, either.

Though that seemed to be changing quickly.

“How about you?” he asked. “Do you know what you’re looking for in a man?”

Heat blazed up in her eyes, making them glint enough for him to think they might actually be glowing, but Selena leaned past him to pick up the salad bowls before he could be sure

“I know exactly what I want,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go eat. You look hungry.”

Turning, she headed for the table, her hips swaying hypnotically as she moved, her dress showing off just enough of her shapely legs to tease him. That, along with Selena’s words, made him harden in his jeans and pulled a low, rumbling growl from his throat.

Oh yeah. He was hungry all right.

Just when he’s found The One…he might lose her.

SWAT Officer Jayden Brooks doesn’t believe there’s a soul mate out there for him — The One. But when he saves high school teacher Selena Rosa from a hostage situation, he knows he’s in big trouble. Her scent is irresistible.

Selena finds the big cop irresistible, too. In fact, the buttoned-up teacher gets a little carried away — during a steamy make-out session, she bites him. Turns out, the traumatizing events at the school triggered her werewolf gene. Fangs and claws are appearing and her aggression is out of control. The change is happening, and Selena doesn’t understand.

It’s going to take everything Brooks has to pull her back from the edge and ultimately win her heart.

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Katie Ruggle's Through The Fire Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

 

I am so excited to have Katie Ruggle here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Katie and Source Books for allowing me to join your Through The Fire Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Katie!

He’s tall.

He’s dark.

He’s brutally handsome

And he may be her only hope.

Kit Jernigan despairs of ever fitting in with her new tight-knit K9 unit — they've been through too much to welcome a stranger. So when a killer strikes, it’s a fight to convince her fellow officers to trust her long enough to catch the woman she knows is responsible.

She can’t do it on her own. What she needs most is a partner: local fire spotter Wesley March.

Wes knows in his heart that Kit is right, and he's willing to leave his lonely tower to help her prove it. But the more time they spend together, the hotter the fire smolders and the more danger they're in. A member of the K9 unit's inner circle is determined to have her revenge — no matter who gets burned in the process.

This time, it's personal.

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Excerpt

Her hair was just as beautiful down as he’d imagined it would be. Wes shifted his weight and fought the urge to fidget with the salt and pepper shakers. He didn’t know what to do with the excess energy that was coursing through him. He’d asked her on a date, and she’d agreed. Even though hours had passed and the date had begun, he still marveled at it. If it hadn’t been horribly early, he would’ve called Leila to let her know it had worked. His bravery had been rewarded.

Seeing her was worth enduring the heavy weight of the other diners’ stares and the buzz of their whispers. He normally did his best to avoid all the townspeople, but he’d ignore their avid interest for Kit’s sake. It was difficult, though. Even the sleepy waitress gave him a curious, wide-eyed look when she stopped at their table to fill their coffee cups and chat lightly with Kit. After she walked away, Kit said quietly, “That’s Jules. She and Theo are together.”

He nodded. “You’re good with people.” She reminded him of Leila that way. Both women always seemed to say the right thing, even when they didn’t know someone. “That must be useful when you’re working.”

She studied him with a slight smile that was kind, rather than mocking. “Thank you. I’m not always the most tactful, so I sometimes get myself into trouble that way. I do best with kids.”

“I can see why. You’re both very honest.” His interactions with children had been minimal as an adult, but he remembered the sometimes brutal honesty of his peers from when he was a kid.

She laughed a little, and the sound warmed his insides. “‘Honest’ is the nice way of saying that we don’t think before we speak sometimes.”

“That can be good, though.” He couldn’t look away from her. From the sheen of her black satin hair to the way her green sweater followed her slight curves, she was riveting. He felt like he could stare at her for days and not get bored. “My sister, Leila, always tells me the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. That’s so much easier than trying to figure out how people really feel when their words don’t match their thoughts.”

“If everyone were that honest, my job would be a lot easier.”

“That’s true.” He watched as she picked up her coffee mug with both hands and took a sip. Her fingers were small and slender, with unpolished, short nails, and he marveled that she could use them to take down people twice her size. The mention of her job reminded him of something. “One of my neighbors stopped by the tower.”

“Rufus?” she asked, setting down her coffee. He saw a muscle twitch in her cheek and felt a remembered jolt of fear at the thought of how close she’d been to losing her life.

“No. Murphy.” She seemed to relax a little as she watched him, waiting patiently for him to continue talking. He loved how she wasn’t in a rush. Her manner calmed him and made conversation, which was usually a minefield of missed cues and uncertainty, so much easier. “He spends a lot of time in the woods south of town. Trapping, mostly.”

Wes paused, wondering if she would question him about Murphy’s activities. He’d never actually caught his neighbor in the act, but Wes had found a few illegal leg-hold traps that he was pretty sure belonged to Murphy. He was still trying to figure out the best plan to convince Murphy to stop, since the traps were dangerous, as well as cruel. Kit didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze on him, giving him her full attention.

“My neighbors don’t trust law enforcement…or any government agency, really. In the last year, they’ve started to come to me with a few things. They know I work for the forest service, so I believe they consider me an intermediary, someone halfway between them and the government, if that makes sense?”

“It does.” Her coffee forgotten, she stayed completely locked on him, and he felt the rush of that focused interest. “You’re their backwoods ambassador.”

His laugh was a surprise, even to him, more pleased than amused. It was such a pleasure to be understood. “Yes. Exactly. I pass on the information they give me to the right agency, and they can hold on to their anonymity.”

“Win-win.” Pushing her coffee mug aside, she laid her forearms on the table so she could lean even closer to him. “What did Murphy tell you?”

“Are you still working on the case of the house that burned down last Monday?” Even if she wasn’t, he still planned to tell her the information he’d gotten from Murphy. If he was the backwoods ambassador, then she was the Wes ambassador. He was acquainted with the other cops, and he didn’t have any problem with them since the crooked lieutenant had been arrested a few weeks ago, but he already trusted Kit. She might have been new to the area, but he had a gut-deep feeling that she wouldn’t betray him.

“Yes.”

Wes lowered his voice, even though the closest other diners were several tables away. “Murphy was checking his traps and saw someone leave that house minutes before it went up in flames.”

“How close was he?” Kit had softened her voice to match his.

“Approximately fifteen feet from the edge of the house’s backyard.”

“Could he describe the person? Does he know them?” Although the words were quiet, there was an urgency to them that made his blood run faster. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Ever since he’d met Kit, he’d felt so much more alive.

Maria Vale's A Wolf Apart Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

 

I am so excited to have Maria Vale here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Maria and Source Books for allowing me to join A Wolf Apart Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Maria!

Excerpt

Elijah intentionally lost a challenge that would have brought him back to Homelands. He is battered inside and out and turns to Thea, a woman he doesn’t have any claim on. But she takes him in and cares for his injuries (“a fight” is all he tells her) and when a snowstorm moves in, he stays. The peace he had hoped for turns to something else.

“‘The great man’”— I try to remember the quotes and strip away the emendations that John made, altering them to our circumstances; “the great wolf” was what he actually said — “‘is the one who in the midst of the crowd’” — John said “of humans” — “‘keeps with perfect sweetness the stillness of the forest.’”

She stares at her book for a moment and then puts her finger on a passage.

“The quote is ‘keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.’ I like yours though.”

“My old English teacher loved Emerson. But I learned it a long time ago. Must have mixed it up.”

Of course, I didn’t. The summer before we were to go Offland, Leonora did her best to make sure that those of us who were leaving understood how to appear human in the world they had re-created in their image.

John tried to do something altogether more subtle and difficult. Whatever disguises we were wearing, he wanted to make sure that we preserved the Homelands within us. He wanted us to make sure that there was a place for the wild inside, even if there wasn’t a place for it anywhere else.

“You liked your English teacher?”

“What? My… Yes. Very much. He was more than an English teacher. He was kind of the head of our little rural community. We’re very tight-knit, but tempers can run short. He worked hard to keep everyone together.”

She dunks the tea bag a few times before fishing it out with a spoon and, wrapping the string around it, squeezes it dry. “Was it worth fighting for?”

“I didn’t win, if that’s what you mean.”

“Not really. A good fight isn’t about the outcome. It’s about knowing that you’ve made things better by trying.”

Then I hear Victor’s voice. “You will win, Alpha,” he says. My one advocate with his sour, judgmental voice and his sour, judgmental face.

“Honestly, I don’t know if it was worth fighting for. I don’t know anything anymore. And no one seems to know who I am.”

When she blows across her tea, she sends the damp-orchid-and-honey scent to my waiting nose.

“Do you? Know who you are?”

“Of course, I do,” I snap, all the Pack’s skepticism and my own self-doubt suddenly brought to a head by this woman who doesn’t know me from Adam. Then I remember what she is. A woman. A human. “I am a partner in one of the most powerful law firms in the country.”

“You’re not just a lawyer, any more than I am just an ECO.”

“So what else would you say you are?”

“All sorts of things. I’m a woman who doesn’t listen to music in the background, because that’s not actually listening. Who is a vegetarian gun owner. Who makes her living helping people but likes to be alone. Whose ancestors were on this landmass when the people who yell at her to ‘go home’ were sleeping with pigs in Europe. Who likes caffeine and Cheetos. Who was in a sorority for four months. Who is the daughter of dead parents and the sister of a dead brother.”

She lifts her tea to her lips.

“What happened to your family?”

“You’re changing the subject. I’m saying that I’ve never met anyone who was just one thing. Who was just ‘a lawyer.’ So, Elijah Sorensson, Esquire, what else are you?”

What else am I? I’m an exile. A disappointment. An Alpha without a Pack. A leader no one wants to follow. A flashy vessel hiding something unspeakably sacred and undeniably fragile. I am a monster: neither one thing nor the other, belonging nowhere.

“Lost,” I say, staring at the fire until my single working eye begins to dry out. “Just. Fucking. Lost.”

My throat feels achy and full, and I turn back to the page, pretending to read, because I feel her ironwood eyes on me, and I know what she sees: an angry, defensive, broken, defeated man in a human’s castoffs and with a wolf-ravaged, bruised-gourd face.

And then I feel something else. I feel Thea’s hand hanging loose between us. She has returned to her book, but the wordless invitation is there. The cabin being what it is, when I let my hand drape to the side of the bed, I’m close enough to touch her.

In the snow-muffled peace of no expectations, I stare sightless at the pages, every nerve focused on the shared heartbeat between our fingers.

When I finally look up from the blurred pages, the mottled fire is reflected in the warmth and welcome of her eyes. I can’t stop myself. I collapse to my knees, my head at her lap, my arm wrapped around her knees, silently asking if this woman who makes a living finding people can find me too.

  

Can a human truly make room in her heart for the Wild?

Thea Villalobos has long since given up trying to be what others expect of her. So in Elijah Sorensson she can see through the man of the world to a man who is passionate to the point of heartbreak. But something inside him is dying.

Elijah Sorensson has all kinds of outward success: bespoke suits, designer New York City apartment, women clamoring for his attention. Except Elijah despises the human life he’s forced to endure. He’s Alpha of his generation of the Great North Pack, and the wolf inside him will no longer be restrained.

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Maria Vale is a journalist who has worked for Publishers Weekly, Glamour magazine, Redbook, and the Philadelphia Inquirer. She is a logophile and a bibliovore and a worrier about the world. Trained as a medievalist, she tries to shoehorn the language of Beowulf into things that don't really need it. She currently lives in New York with her husband, two sons and a long line of dead plants. No one will let her have a pet.

Maria Vale's The Last Wolf Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

I am so excited to have Maria Vale here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Maria and Source Books for allowing me to join The Last Wolf Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Maria!

The Last Wolf
(The Legend of All Wolves #1)
by Maria Vale
Mass Market Paperback, 320 pages
Expected publication: February 6th 2018 by Sourcebooks Casablanca
ISBN 1492661872

For three days out of thirty, when the moon is full and her law is iron, the Great North Pack must be wild. Silver Nilsdottir is a lone runt with a crippled leg, facing a life of endless submission in the Pack.

Then Tiberius Leveraux stumbles wounded into their territory with a plea for protection. If Silver is to make a real place for herself, she must fight for Tiberius—her only chance at ever having a mate. And in the end, she is forced to shield all of them—the Pack, the land, and the man she loves — from ancient enemies.




AMAZON | B and N

EXCERPT

In which Silver, in an act of mercy, kills her former shielder

The circle of wolves in the Clearing tightens around Ronan, and for the first time since my Dæling, I am deeply grateful that I am not Pack. I am just a guest and don’t have to be part of this.

But when I start to lope away, Ti doesn’t move. He doesn’t understand what is happening, so I nip at his pant leg. The Alphas of each echelon are taking up their positions at the front of the circle. Everyone wants this over with quickly.

Opening a passage for Charlie, John nudges Ronan’s father toward his son. In its mercy, Pack law allows First Blood to Ronan’s family, so that when the Pack eviscerates him, Ronan won’t feel anything. I plant my front paws and pull Ti harder, because I really don’t want to watch Charlie rip out his son’s throat.

Ti doesn’t move.

John nudges Charlie again, but Charlie just stares at Ronan, his head cocked, his mouth open. Then his eyes roll around the circle searching for help he won’t find, because to be on Pack land as an exile is bad enough, but the only response to an attack on a pup, is a Slitung, a flesh-tearing, and every wolf shows teeth. Charlie throws himself on the ground in front of John, his feet up in the air, his hips shimmying back and forth in a clownish show of submission.

John snaps at him.

Charlie follows our Alpha around, one ear up, the other down, his mouth open in a rabid leer, until with a quick look over his shoulder, John signals Tara to drag the broken wolf away from the Pack. Tara grabs his muzzle tight in her powerful jaws and drags him off mewling. I run beside him whimpering too, begging Charlie to come to his senses long enough to do this last kindness. He seems not to even see me, more interested in the furry thing following behind him. As soon as Tara lets him go, he starts to chase his tail, barking.

Tara turns her back on him with a growl and a dismissive kick of rain-sodden soil. She heads back to the Pack, which clears a path for her. As John’s Beta, Tara has a place of honor, but she also has a place of responsibility and is expected to be right up front for the Slitung. I stick to her slipstream and push through to the whimpering Ronan.

Rubbing my muzzle against his, I turn to John, my body down, my head between my paws. I’m not sure he will accept my claim to First Blood, but I have a better chance if I at least smell like the wolf who had been my schildere but who never wanted to be my mate.

Then John’s nose bumps against mine, telling me to get up. With a quick snap of his jaws, the Pack retreats, giving us room. John is a good wolf and a great Alpha and, if given a choice, will always choose mercy.

First Blood allows for one bite only, and if Ronan decides to fight me, I doubt I’ll be able to make the kill. But after everything that has happened, the once-upon-a-time Alpha of the 14th Echelon seems to understand that his luck is not going to change again.

He lies back with his chin stretched high, staring at the mountains and the pinpoints of stars and the real world, the world of men, that he so wanted to be a part of.
Opening my jaws wide, I gently take his throat between them. It’s what we do, and it means trust me. It means I see you at your most vulnerable.

I bite down fast and hard on the cartilage tube, giving it the same fatal break I would for a deer. Ronan struggles a little, and blood spurts into my mouth. I curl my tongue against the back of my throat, because I don’t want to swallow this blood. I don’t want to be nourished by this death.

The pulse of his blood slows, but I don’t lift my head until it stops.

Before I even stumble out of the way, the Pack surges forward, eager to be done with this particular bit of ritual butchery.

I race for Clear Pond, my paws sinking through the cold, thick mud and dying sedges until I am in deep. Pushing the air out of my lungs, I sink and stay down until my own throat is on the verge of collapse, and the blood that had already started to stiffen on my muzzle and chest and legs begins to melt away from my fur. Maybe there was so much that all of Clear Pond is tainted, but no matter how many gulps of water I take, my mouth still has the sharp, metallic tang of blood, and there’s something stuck in my teeth.

I start to change, and as soon as I’m finished, I pick at the thing with my fingers until it comes loose. I don’t look at it before throwing it into the weeds. I think the change was a mistake though, because in skin, I feel the intense cold of the schist on my naked body and the icy water running from my hair down my back and the taste of death in my mouth. I can’t stop shivering. I try to get wild again, but my muscles are spasming so hard that I can’t. I lurch up on all fours and then to my legs and stumble only a few steps before collapsing again, my head on my knees.

A warm coat that smells like angelica and green corn and the earth before a storm settles around my shoulders. “Put it on,” says that quiet voice, and Ti lifts me, guiding my arms into the sleeves, and then pulls me close to his even-warmer body. He says nothing, just holds me tight, letting me shiver against him.

“I killed him,” I finally stutter.

He lifts my sodden hair out from under the collar of the coat.

“Yes, you did. And if you hadn’t, he would have died in pain and the whole Pack would have had the burden of it. Now only you do.”

Ti doesn’t say that I wasn’t responsible or that I shouldn’t feel guilty, but rather that it’s a burden worth carrying and one that I’m strong enough to bear. His faith calms me in a way that no amount of coddling ever could.

It’s one of the things I love about him….

“I can’t get the taste of blood out of my mouth.”

He doesn’t respond. I guess he didn’t hear, or knowing him, he did hear, but doesn’t think there’s any point in responding. It doesn’t matter. I settle my head back on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Did I say love?

He frees one arm and lifts my chin. It’s dark for my poor human senses, but he’s not like me and the nearly full moon lights up the green glow of the lucidum in his eyes.

He hesitates, his lips hovering above mine, like a boy nervously contemplating his first kiss. But I know what he’s hiding, and I stretch up as high as I can and wrap my arm around his neck, feeling the shape of his skull under the roughness of his cropped hair. I feel his mouth against mine, firm and ripe and warm and still closed.

Nuzzling the seam of his mouth, I catch his lower lip gently between my fangs, pulling him closer. I know you, Tiberius. I know the wildness that you’ve always hidden there, but I am not human and I want the untamed, inhuman sharpness of your mouth.

I let go and lick my lip before gently circling his, my breath feathering his sensitive skin.
Finally, his lips open softly and I seal my mouth around his, because this is his first kiss and mine too, and I am his shielder in all things.

About the Author

Maria Vale is a journalist who has worked for Publishers Weekly, Glamour magazine, Redbook, the Philadelphia Inquirer. She is a logophile and a bibliovore and a worrier about the world. Trained as a medievalist, she tries to shoehorn the language of Beowulf into things that don't really need it. She currently lives in New York with her husband, two sons and a long line of dead plants. No one will let her have a pet. Visit her at https://www.mariavale.com/.

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Isabel Cooper's Highland Dragon Warrior Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

I am so excited to have Isabel Cooper here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Isabel and Source Books for allowing me to join your Highland Dragon Warrior Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Isabel!

Legend claims

When Scotland fell to English rule

The Highland dragons took a vow:

Freedom at any price.

The war may be over, but so long as English magic controls the Highlands, not even a dragon laird can keep his clan safe. What Cathal MacAlasdair needs is a warrior fierce enough to risk everything, yet gifted enough to outwit an enemy more monster than man.

What he needs is Sophia.

Alchemist Sophia Metzger traveled to Loch Arach in search of knowledge. She never dreamed she’d learn to do battle, ride through the stars on the back of a dragon, or catch the eye of a Highland laird. But as her quest turns to sizzling chemistry and inescapable danger, she’ll soon discover the thrill of being caught in a dragon’s claws..

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iBooks: http://apple.co/2x3TrlI

Excerpt

Carrying a passenger was a new experience for Cathal, made doubly tense by the urgency of their errand and triply so because it was Sophia astride his back. He climbed above the clouds as smoothly as he could, and as quickly, since hesitation wouldn’t be useful. When he leveled out and felt Sophia’s weight still securely in place, with her breathing steady next to him, relief ran through him like strong drink.

Navigating by the stars, he flew slowly toward the south and Valerius’s lands, avoiding when he could any winds that would make him rise or fall too steeply or angle too sharply. It was not the most exciting bit of flying he’d ever done, but he wasn’t eager for it to end. Having Sophia close, even when he wasn’t in human shape, with the stars arcing overhead and the whole wide sky spread out before him… He could have stayed for far longer.

In time, reluctantly and more gently than he’d ascended, he dove back under the clouds to look for landmarks. He noted the small flecks of light from manors and stayed as far away as he could. Cottages were only lumps in the darkness, far harder to avoid, but they mattered less. Any peasant could claim to have seen a dragon, but it would take far longer for the story to reach anyone who knew its significance, and by that time, God willing, they’d be gone and Valerius dead.

For a while he could hear owls and bats, the few among his fellow creatures of the air who went abroad at night. Like most animals, they stayed well away from him, but he knew their cries as part of a familiar chorus.

As they approached Valerius’s lands, that chorus faded. They didn’t travel in silence as they’d done above the clouds, but the night birds’ calls were few, and many sounded weaker. Odd: he’d have expected more bats and owls near the sorcerer’s domain. Most said they were creatures of the devil.

Granted, most said that about dragons too.

Near the same time, the air changed. Cathal didn’t think anyone human would have noticed the faint staleness to it, or the slight suggestion of rot, but both were there, and got stronger the closer he flew. The colors of the land below him were muted too, even for early spring, and about them there was a hint of grayish-red, like a wound gone bad.

The land is poisoned, Lady Bellecote had said.

No wonder the birds sounded unhealthy; no wonder the crops never did very well. Even the edge of Valerius’s domain was wrong, though wrong in a way few humans could have pinpointed or even spoken about. Cathal didn’t think he needed to view the place through magical sight. For certes, he desired no such thing.

With everything in him, he wished to turn back. The thought of setting foot on the corrupted land was repugnant, and the idea of sending Sophia alone into it was worse. He felt his lips pull back into a snarl, exposing his teeth as if he could threaten Valerius from this distance—or rip his throat out—and he knew both impulses to be futile.

Only one course of action stood a chance of helping.

Near the border was a small stand of trees, far enough from any cottages that Cathal doubted anyone would come here until high summer, if that. He circled slowly down to a landing, wincing at the first contact with the earth.

It didn’t hurt, precisely. But it felt more yielding and more clinging than snowmelt or rain would explain, and he thought of how Sophia had described the earth in her dreams.

He could have no doubts about whose land they’d found.

Holding still, he felt Sophia extracting herself from the harness, then watched as she slid to the ground. Their surroundings didn’t seem to disgust her. She smiled brilliantly up at him. “That was wonderful. Amazing. I-I would write a book, would anyone believe me, and did it not expose you and yours too greatly. I… Well, I thank you.”

On the last, she ducked her head, her dark lashes long against her cheeks, and then began to undo the harness until Cathal shook his head at her.

“Oh? Very well,” she said and stepped back.

He changed. The world became bigger and higher; as always, it took a moment or two before he felt as though he moved right. He was standing in the middle of the harness, within a loop quite large enough for his body. Sophia comprehended, and laughed quietly.

“I believe I can get it back on when I return,” she said. “I hope, at least.”

“It won’t matter so much then. We’ll likely not have to hide on our way out, so I’ll not need to go so high so fast.”

“Oh,” Sophia said, and smiled again, equally brilliantly. “It’s almost a disappointment, truly. But then, if it’s in the day, it might be just as interesting to see the world from on high—and I suppose I shouldn’t be anticipating anything just yet,” she added, the smile dying.

Cathal wished he had the words to bring her smile back, or that it would be just to do so. All he could do was nod. “Seven days?”

“I should think that time enough, or as much time as we can afford. It’s not a large place.” They’d planned all this at the castle. Now they confirmed it, as much because a plan was reassuring as to keep the details fresh in their minds. “Should I need to stay longer, I’ll do my best to come back here and give you that message. And if I’m not back in seven days, you will go back to the castle.”

It was not a request, nor even a recommendation. “You’ve been speaking with Douglas.”

“He told me nothing I couldn’t have reasoned out for myself. If I… If the worst happens,” she said, and smoothed her hands over her skirt, “you’ll need to get word back, and it’ll do no good to have you come in breathing fire from above, most likely. If you go back then, you and your family can perhaps send men in, or come yourselves, or…or try the sorts of magic you know.”

There was no gap in her reasoning, no hole that Cathal could find to justify any argument. He would’ve given years of his life for one, but there was nobody to take him up on that offer, and so he could only nod. Where Sophia was going, he’d be more hindrance than help. Again he had to wait, and hope, and know himself to be useless.

Just so, it came to him, how the women in the camps must have felt before battles. His mother too, mayhap. Real war had been more distant in Cathal’s youth; his mother had been a sorceress who could aid her husband from a distance; and even in age, Artair was harder to kill than the rocks around them, but there were always threats.

If they endured, so could he. It was no new thing, sending one’s—

Before Cathal’s mind could supply the word and shock him further, Sophia spoke again. “I believe I’m well supplied enough for the journey. If you think you’ll need food, waiting, I can leave some.”

Cathal shook his head. “I’ll hunt. Should I get desperate, I’ll take a sheep and leave the coin for it later. And I’ve gone a fair few days without food before.”

“If you’re in danger,” she said, “if we were wrong and he can track your presence even here, if you have to leave, you should. Leave me a sign if you can, but if I return and you’re not here, I’ll wait a night, then try to make my way back to your lands.”

“My father’s.”

Sophia waved a hand, not understanding why the distinction was important. In truth, Cathal wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to make it just then, but it had been irresistible. “I’m only human, and there’s nothing exceptional about me. And I have coin and skills. I’ll be all right.”

“Don’t,” he said. It was almost a growl, but she didn’t flinch.

“Very well. I have as good a chance as anyone of being all right. Better than many people would have. It…” He saw the whites of her wide eyes, the swell of her breasts as she gulped air, and the swift motion with which she pushed back a stray lock of hair, as if she could tuck away fear as quickly and completely. “It shall suffice, yes?”

“It must,” said Cathal.

He wanted to tell her again that she didn’t need to do this. She could turn away from the path before her and the blighted place to which it led. She’d done enough. But that would be insulting, he knew, and besides, it was no longer the truth. The journey into Valerius’s domain was the best hope that any of them had. Sophia was the best person to make it now.

And so there was nothing more he could do.

“We will come for you,” he said. “If you’re captured. I’ll pluck Agnes out of her tower if I need to and get her to weave spells for us, or I’ll drag my father home from his treaties. Or I’ll manage what’s needed myself. I can, given time.”

Unexpectedly, she smiled again, and in her smile was an echo of those hours flying beneath the stars, with only the two of them and no need for words. Even Cathal didn’t see her move when she stepped forward. She flowed toward him, reached up, and cupped the side of his face in one hand. “I would never doubt it,” Sophia said.

“You’re wrong,” he said thickly, and clasped her shoulders in his hands. She looked up at him, startled, about to argue the point. “Not about rescue. Earlier.”

“Wha—”

“Everything about you is exceptional,” he said, and kissed her before she could reply.

Rather, she didn’t reply in words. Her response was as desperate as his embrace. Sophia didn’t melt into his arms so much as throw hers around him, grasping him with the urgent strength he remembered from the flight, now colored and transformed by sensuality. As her mouth opened before his, her hands roamed his back, short nails almost scoring his skin even through his clothing.

He kissed her as if by sheer force he could make them both forget what waited, as though with his lips and tongue and his hands on her breasts he could himself cast a spell to banish Valerius to whatever hell would claim him in the end. He drank Sophia’s little gasps of desire like the strongest wine and wanted nothing more than to hear those sounds, to feel her fingers twined in his hair, to think of nothing else, to think nothing at all. 

About the Author

During the day, ISABEL COOPER maintains her guise as a mild-mannered project manager in legal publishing. In her spare time, she enjoys video games, ballroom dancing, various geeky hobbies, and figuring out what wine goes best with leftover egg rolls. Cooper lives with two thriving houseplants in Boston, Massachusetts.

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Melinda Leigh's Her Last Goodbye Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

I am so excited to have Melinda Leigh here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Melinda and Source Books for allowing me to join your Her Last Goodbye Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Melinda!

About the Book

Title: Her Last Goodbye
Author: Melinda Leigh
Release Date: September 26, 2017
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Summary

Young mother Chelsea Clark leaves the house for a girls’ night out…and vanishes. Her family knows she would never voluntarily leave her two small children. Her desperate husband — also the prime suspect — hires Morgan to find his wife and prove his innocence.

As a single mother, Morgan sympathizes with Chelsea’s family and is determined to find her. She teams up with private investigator Lance Kruger. But the deeper they dig, the deadlier their investigation gets. When Morgan is stalked by a violent predator, everything — and everyone — she holds dear is in grave danger.

Now, Morgan must track down a deranged criminal to protect her own family but she won’t need to leave home to find him. She’s his next target.

Excerpt

Morgan’s grandfather wiped his mouth with a napkin. A hint of white remained at the corner of his mouth. Morgan pointed to the corresponding spot on her own face, and Grandpa licked his lips.

“Grandpa!” Ava said in a stern voice. “That’s your third! You’re not s’posed to eat them all, Right, Mommy?”

“Right.” Morgan lifted an eyebrow at her grandfather.

Grandpa laughed. “Life is short. Eat dessert.”

All three girls looked at Morgan hopefully.

Shaking her head at her grandfather, she turned back to her girls and said, “One cupcake each.”

“You were s’posed to watch him,” Ava said to Stella.

Stella laughed. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

Before moving in with her boyfriend, Mac, over the summer, Stella had lived with Grandpa too. Come to think of it, had Grandpa ever had the house to himself? Morgan’s older brother, Ian, had been in college when their father had died. Ian had been grown, but Grandpa had helped raise his three younger granddaughters. The man was a saint.

Grandpa reached for another cupcake, his hand trembling.

Stella slid the plate out of his reach. “I doubt your cardiologist would approve.”

A saint with a stubborn streak.

“You’d think, at my age, I could do what I wanted,” Grandpa grumbled.

“Think again.” Morgan kissed him on the cheek. “We love you too much for that.”

The girls went back to smearing icing on cupcakes. Ava and Mia worked with slow and deliberate strokes, but Sophie’s cupcakes looked like they had been decorated with a fire extinguisher.

Morgan sniffed. The kitchen smelled of roasted meat and vegetables. She turned to Gianna. “That smells amazing. What was for dinner?”

“Pot roast.” Gianna dried the slow cooker crock and set it on the counter. “There are leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“We ate, but I will have a cupcake.” Morgan plucked one from the plate.

Though Gianna was still too slender, the dark-haired young woman had put on at least ten pounds and lost her death’s-door pallor since Morgan insisted she move in with them four months ago. She still needed kidney dialysis, but her health and quality of life had improved, so much so that she’d insisted on being Morgan’s live-in nanny.

Ava carefully smoothed the top of a cupcake and carried it to Lance. “This one’s for you.”

“Thanks. Vanilla is my favorite.” Lance took the cupcake and ate it in three bites. “I’d better go. I’ll pick you up at eight thirty?”

They were interviewing Chelsea’s boss at nine.

“That’s fine.” Morgan said, glad she’d kissed him goodbye in the Jeep.

“Where’s Mac?” Morgan asked Stella after Lance left. “At SAR training. Five days in the woods. He’s in heaven.” Stella often said Mac would never be fully tamed. Totally at home in the wilderness, he had joined the local search and rescue team.

“I’d better go.” Stella stood. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Morgan followed her sister to the front door.

“He’s really good with kids.” Stella donned her coat.

Morgan opened the door for her. “He seems to enjoy them.”

“You’re lucky to find a second good man.”

“I am.” Morgan pushed back at the sadness that crept up her throat at the reminder of her late husband. No more lamenting about her loss. It was time to look forward to the future. She followed her sister outside. “How was the cardiologist appointment today?”

“As far as I know, the doctor adjusted his medication. Grandpa wouldn’t let me go in with him.” Stella tugged her keys from her pocket.

“Why is he so stubborn?”

“Because he’s a Dane?” Stella paused to brush a hair off her face. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for taking him today.”

“Hey, he’s my grandpa too. Please don’t feel like you have to do it all. We’ll manage it together.” Stella got into her car and drove away.

Morgan watched her sister’s taillights disappear into the darkness. Stella was right. Morgan didn’t have to manage everything alone. Why did she always think she did? That whole bringing-home-the-bacon-and-frying-it-up-in-a-pan thing got old fast.

She turned back toward the house. The hairs on her nape rose. Was someone watching her?

She spun around, her eyes searching the darkness beyond the reach of the lights. There was no one in front of the house, and the street was empty in both directions. A gust of wind blew dead leaves along the gutter. Her imagination must be working overtime with Chelsea’s disappearance.

But her steps quickened as she hurried toward the front door. She went inside, locked the door, and set the alarm. Grandpa took home security seriously. He’d installed motion lights, surveillance cameras, and a solid alarm system.

Sophie waited in the hallway.

“If you pick a book, I’ll read to you,” Morgan said. Maybe cuddling with her girls would relax her. She obviously needed some downtime.

“Toy Story!” Sophie ran for the bedroom she shared with her sisters.

Morgan’s return to work had made them all a little clingy. Even with Gianna insisting on being her live-in nanny, Morgan preferred to handle bedtime. There was something special about putting her children to bed at night, seeing them safe and warm and content, before she settled herself for the evening.

She read a bedtime story, kissed each little girl, and tucked the covers around their tiny bodies. As always, her heart trembled when the children said good night to their daddy’s picture on the dresser in their room. But Morgan was getting better. No more tears. John had been clear about wanting her to move forward and enjoy life.

But damn, the juggling act that had become her life was hard. How would she ever make her relationship with Lance a priority?
 

Author Biography

Melinda Leigh abandoned her career in banking to raise her kids and never looked back. She started writing as a hobby and became addicted to creating characters and stories. Since then, she has won numerous writing awards for her paranormal romance and romantic-suspense fiction. Her debut novel, She Can Run, was a number one bestseller in Kindle Romantic Suspense, a 2011 Best Book Finalist (The Romance Reviews), and a nominee for the 2012 International Thriller Award for Best First Book. She is the author of the Midnight Novels, including Midnight Exposure (a finalist for the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense) and Midnight Sacrifice.

Social Networking Links

Website - http://melindaleigh.com/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/melindaleighauthorpage

Twitter - https://twitter.com/MelindaLeigh1

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5141609.Melinda_Leigh

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Katie Ruggle's On The Chase Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

I am so excited to have Katie Ruggle here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Katie and Source Books for allowing me to join your On The Chase Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Katie!

Injured in the line of duty,

His orders are simple:

Stay alive.

But when a frightened woman bursts into his life, Hugh and his K9 companion have no choice but to risk everything to keep her safe.

The sole witness to a horrific crime, Kaylee Ramay flees to the Colorado Rockies to start a new life.

There she becomes Grace, a dog kennel employee desperately trying to avoid attention — especially from dangerously attractive K9 Officer Hugh Murdoch.

Because Hugh is tall, dark and nothing but trouble.

Hugh is anxious to get back in the field after an act of heroism left him warming the bench. Until then, he and his K9 partner Lexi spend their hours teasing the town’s mysterious newcomer. But when their simmering attraction is nearly cut short by a sniper’s bullet, Hugh’s mystery woman must come clean about the secrets she keeps.

Or both of them will pay the price.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2x4prpW

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iBooks: http://apple.co/2x3SWbi

Excerpt

“How’s your head?”

His smile dimmed just slightly before returning to full wattage. “Still where it’s supposed to be. I might have lost a few brain cells, but there were plenty to spare.”

Grace rolled her eyes. Of course he would joke about almost dying. Forget that she hadn’t been able to sleep or think about anything else for the past five days since Jules told her about the explosion. She didn’t know why she cared, why she worried about him, why the idea of him almost dying made her heart hurt. It wasn’t like they were friends. Every time they saw each other, they argued. Even now, seeing Hugh all happy and smirky and healthy-looking, she felt her worry turn to annoyance. “Have you found out who planted the bomb yet?”

“Can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” he said lightly. “You know what we can talk about, though?”

“What?” she asked warily. He was just a few steps away, and she realized that she’d been moving closer without even realizing it. Stupid feet. Don’t they know he’s an ass?

Hugh gestured at her soaked coveralls. “This incredibly fashion-forward look you have going here.”

Her finger hovered close to the trigger. So maybe he’d lose a little skin if she gave him a quick spray. Really, it was what he deserved. With a great effort of will, she kept the washer down at her side.

“You like it?” Posing with her free hand on her hip, she gave him her best sultry-model face. If she had to be stuck wearing wet coveralls and too-large rubber boots, then she was going to own the look.

He chuckled, although his gaze heated as he took her in. “Oh yeah. It’s kennel chic.”

“Right.” Dropping the pose, she frowned at him, trying to figure out why he was looking at her like he wanted to eat her. There was nothing appealing about her at the moment. She’d known this even before she glanced down again, confirming the horrid state of her appearance. “I miss wearing pretty things.”

Immediately, his gaze sharpened. “Pretty things? Like what you used to wear to work? What did you do before in Bangor?”

That slight pause reminded her that he was a cop — a cop who thought she was a liar. Tipping her head, she gave him a flirty look. “You want to know something?”

“Yeah. What?” He moved a half step closer, his inquisitive expression shifting to something a little…hungrier.

She smiled and leaned toward him. His gaze dropped to her lips. “I’m beginning to understand why someone would want to blow you up.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It made him even more stupidly attractive than usual, and Grace found herself unable to look away. “I’m told that a lot.”

Thrown off guard, she scrambled for a witty retort. “Maybe you should, you know, work on that.”

“Work on fixing my personality?” He leaned against the wall, and Grace gave a silent sigh. It looked as if he was settling in for a chat. As much as she welcomed an interruption from kennel cleaning, Hugh wasn’t her first pick. Whenever he was around, she felt strange, unsettled, almost jittery. He’d pop into her head at odd times, and just the thought of him sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins. It was uncomfortable.

She realized that he was watching her with a tiny, knowing smile, and she tried to remember what they’d been talking about. “Whatever.” Grace figured that would cover most potential topics. “Why are you here?”

“Otto’s working with his latest project.”

“That explains why he’s here. Why are you here?”

He smirked. The man was impossible to offend. “I was bored, so I tagged along. It’s a good thing, too. We haven’t talked much lately. I was going to stop by to watch Tattered Hearts with you again, but Theo gave me a little lecture about the importance of keeping my lockpicks in my pants.”

“What a shame,” she said flatly, proud of herself for not giving in and smiling. It was hard to resist Hugh’s easy charm. “Well, this was a nice chat. We’ll have to do it again sometime or not.”

His grin grew, and it became harder to keep her deadpan expression in place. “Oh, our visit isn’t over. Otto won’t be done for a while yet. So tell me, Not-Grace, how long did you live in Bangor?”

“Almost two years.”

“And before that?”

“Austin, Texas.”

“For how long?”

“Eight months.”

“Before that?”

“Portland.”

“Maine or Oregon?”

“Oregon.”

“Do you ever tell the truth?”

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

He smiled at her — a long, slow, easy, predatory baring of his teeth. “I can tell when someone’s lying. It’s my superpower.”

Grace shivered and immediately hoped he hadn’t noticed. By his expression, however, he’d seen it. He looked like a smug housecat, ready to pounce on a trapped mouse. “It’s none of your business. So I’ve moved around a lot. That’s not a crime. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then why are you lying?”

“I told you.” To her annoyance, she couldn’t hold his gaze. Turning her head, she stared at one of the kennels. “I’m not lying. Go away. I have to get back to work.”

She started spraying down the kennels again. The entire time, she felt his gaze on the back of her neck, as hot as sunburn on her skin. It made her crazy that he could bring out such a reaction in her, when she was just a suspect to him. Every time Hugh was nearby, her skin buzzed and her blood flowed faster, and when he left, she felt let down and lonely. He was a cop, and an annoying one at that. Why did she allow him to affect her like this? When she reached the end of the row, she couldn’t take it anymore. Turning, she huffed, “Would you please just…”

He was gone.

She glanced around, but she was alone. Moving over to the door, she looked out and saw Hugh limping slightly as he made his way to the squad car.

It was her turn to watch him. Crazily enough, she felt slightly deflated now that he’d left. Shaking off her idiotic thoughts, she firmed her jaw and turned back to the kennels. Forget Hugh, she told herself firmly. There’s poo to clean.

Even so, she couldn’t resist a final glance out the open door. 

About the Author

When she’s not writing, KATIE RUGGLE rides horses, shoots guns, and trains her three dogs. A police academy graduate, Katie readily admits she’s a forensics nerd. While she still misses her off-grid home in the Rocky Mountains, she now lives in a 150-year-old Minnesota farmhouse near her family.

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Mary Burton's The Last Move Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

I am so excited to have Mary Burton here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Mary and Source Books for allowing me to join The Last Move Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Mary!

About the Book Title: The Last Move
Author: Mary Burton
Release Date: September 19, 2017
Genre: Romantic Suspense/Thriller
Publisher: Montlake Romance 

Summary

Catching monsters helps FBI agent Kate Hayden keep her nightmares at bay. Now an urgent call brings her back to San Antonio, the scene of her violent past. A brutal new murder shows hallmarks of a serial killer nicknamed the Samaritan. Tricky part is, Kate already caught him.

Either Kate made a deadly error, or she’s got a copycat on her hands. Paired with homicide detective Theo Mazur, she quickly realizes this murder is more twisted than it first appeared. Then a second body is found, the mode of death identical to a different case that Kate thought she’d put behind her.

Now Kate and Detective Mazur aren’t just working a homicide; the investigative pair is facing a formidable enemy who knows Kate intimately. While Mazur is personally trying to protect Kate, the closer they are drawn to the killer, the clearer it becomes that in this terrifying game, there is only one rule: don’t believe everything you see.

Excerpt

Mazur nodded toward her half-eaten burger. “Finish up.”

“This is good,” Kate said. “Thank you.”

“I’m still getting to know the area, and the best burger joints are hidden. Haven’t found a pizza place that rivals what we had in Chicago. You’re from this area, do you know any?”

She picked up a fry. “My restaurant information is outdated.”

“You said your mother lives in town.”

She arched a brow. “Why the curiosity about my family?”

He smiled. “It’s called making conversation, Kate. You must have learned about that in your volumes of profiling books.”

If she noticed he had dropped her formal title, she didn’t seem to mind. “I skipped that lecture.”

He feigned shock. “Oh my, was that a joke?”

“No. It’s a fact.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

They ate in silence for several minutes before she said, “We should talk to Martin Sanchez. There’s more behind what we’re seeing.”

He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “He can wait another ten or fifteen minutes. Eat.”

She bit into the burger. “Right.”

“So what made you choose the FBI, Kate?” he asked.

She set the burger down and wiped her hands on a napkin. “I was working on my PhD when law enforcement approached my linguistics professor with a letter from a stalker. They asked him to read it. He brought me in to consult, and based on the observations we made, the cops were able to catch the guy. The FBI was recruiting so I applied. I’m now a part of a team, and we’re sent out to investigate complicated cases.”

“You like it?”

“You know how it goes. There are times when you are witness to man’s inhumanity to man. Other times when the rush is so exciting, you’re on a high for days.”

“I hear ya.”

“Why’d you become a cop?”

“Couldn’t imagine myself in a nine to five. And I wanted to make a difference.” He studied her. “Did you choose the FBI because of your father’s murder?”

She stilled, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she’d answer. “That was certainly part of the equation. His death devastated our family.”

He heard the tremor in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

For an instant, she closed her eyes. She then balled the remainder of her burger up in the wrapper. “I blame myself.”

“Why?”

“I went to high school with the shooter, William Bauldry. We were in chess club together and got to be good friends.”

“What was Bauldry like?”

“He was smart, funny, and very charismatic. I wouldn’t call him a popular kid, but all the popular kids liked him.”

“And you dated him?”

“As you may have noticed, I’m a geek. This trait is an asset now but wasn’t so much in high school. He befriended me, which I found very flattering. When he asked me out on a date, I couldn’t resist. I thought I was the luckiest girl in San Antonio.”

Mazur was silent. “Why did you break up with him?”

“That niceness he projected to the world changed when we were alone. He became too controlling. He wanted constant affirmations from me, and I couldn’t keep doing it.”

“So you broke up.”

“Yes. He was furious. At first my parents didn’t understand why I broke it off. William was so very charming, but when I insisted this was the right move for me, they backed me up. When he called, my parents ran interference. When calling didn’t work, he wrote me dozens of letters. The letters all seemed benign at the time, but if I were reading them now, I could point to all the warning signs. I wish to hell I had seen them then.”

“You were a kid, how could you?”

“He shot and killed my father. I cannot forgive myself for not seeing the warning signs.”

“What about your mother? They can’t blame you.”

“Mom’s support never wavered, which made dealing with it all that much harder. My brother, Mitchell, blamed me for Dad’s death. Honestly, I could deal with that better than Mom’s understanding.”

Mazur was silent for a moment. “Bauldry clearly had mental-health issues. That’s not your fault.”

She shook her head and tipped her chin up. “I’ve told my story to other victims of violent crime before. The hope to create a bond and to show them I understand. I’m usually good at distancing myself from the story and the words. But being back in San Antonio is making it difficult to keep that distance.”
 

Author Biography

New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist Mary Burton is the highly praised author of twenty-eight published romance and suspense novels and five novellas. She lives in Virginia with her husband and three miniature dachshunds.

Author Social Media Links

Website: http://www.maryburton.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maryburtonfanpage
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryBurtonBooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15020.Mary_Burton

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Margaret Brownley's A Match Made in Texas Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway

 

I am so excited to have Margaret Brownley here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Margaret and Source Books for allowing me to join your A Match Made in Texas Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Margaret!

Title: A Match Made in Texas
Author: Margaret Brownley
Pub Date: June 6, 2017

Welcome to Two-Time Texas:

Where tempers burn hot

Love runs deep

And a single woman can change the course of history:

There’s a new sheriff in town.

Amanda Lockwood gets more than she bargained for when she’s elected Two-Time Texas’s first female sheriff. Anxious to prove herself, she sets out to stop crime in its tracks — taking down wanted man Rick Barrett in the process. But there’s something special about the charming outlaw. Common sense says he must be guilty but her heart keeps telling her otherwise.

So what’s a sheriff to do? Gather an all-female posse and ride to save the day.

Things sure don’t look good for Rick. If he doesn’t convince the pretty sheriff to let him go, he’ll soon be pushing up daisies. But his plan to woo her to his side backfires when he’s the one who falls head over heels. Now he must choose between freedom or saving the woman he loves and the clock is ticking.

Who knew A Match Made in Texas could be such sweet, clean, madcap fun?

New York Times and CBA best-selling author MARGARET BROWNLEY has penned nearly forty novels and novellas. Her books have won numerous awards, including Readers' Choice and Award of Excellence. She's a former Romance Writers of American RITA® finalist and has written for a TV soap. She is currently working on a new series. Not bad for someone who flunked eighth grade English. Just don't ask her to diagram a sentence.

Buy Links

Amazon | Books-A-Million | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Chapters | iBooks | Indiebound

FUN FACT ABOUT THE BOOK

The Lockwood sisters were inspired by the March sisters from Margaret’s favorite childhood book, Little Women

EXCERPT

Could she trust him? Dare she trust him?

The man — a stranger — looked like one tough hombre. Perched upon the seat of a weather-beaten wagon, he sat tall, lean and decisively strong, his sunbaked hands the color of tanned leather. The only feature visible beneath his wide-brimmed hat and shaggy beard was a well-defined nose. The beard along with his shoulder-length hair suggested he had no regard for barbers. From the looks of him, he wasn’t all that fond of bathhouses either.

“Need a ride?” the stranger asked, looking down at her with open curiosity.

She hesitated. It wasn’t as if she had a lot of choices. If she didn’t accept his offer, she might have to spend the rest of the day and maybe even the night alone in the Texas wilderness with the rattlers, cactus and God knows what else.

“Where you headin’?” he asked.

This time she answered. “Two-Time.”

“Same here,” he said with a gruff nod, as if that alone was reason to trust him.

His destination should have offered no surprise. Two-Time was the only town within twenty miles. Still… “Why there?” she asked.

Her hometown had grown in leaps and bounds since the arrival of the train, but still lagged behind San Antonio and Austin in commerce and population. Most people, if they ended up in Two-Time at all, did so by mistake.

He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Good a place as any.”

Moistening her parched lips, she shaded her eyes from the blazing sun as she gazed up at him. No sense beating around the bush. “You don’t have a nefarious intent, do you? To do me harm, I mean?” A woman alone couldn’t be too careful.

The question seemed to surprise him. At least it made him push back his hat, revealing steel blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. What a strange sight she must look. Stuck in the middle of nowhere dressed to the nines in a stylish blue walking suit.

“Are you’re askin’ if your virtue is safe with me?”

She blushed, but refused to back down. The man didn’t mince words and neither would she. “Well, is it?”

“Safe as you want it to be,” he said finally. His lazy drawl didn’t seem to go with the sharp-eyed regard, which returned again and again to her peacock feathered hat, rising three stories and a basement high above her brow.

It wasn’t exactly the answer she’d hoped for, but he sounded sincere and that gave her a small measure of comfort. Still, she cast a wary eye on his holstered weapon. The Indian Wars had ended, but the possibility of renegades was real. The area also teemed with outlaws. In that sense, it wouldn’t hurt to have an armed man by her side. Even one as surly as this one.

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