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Gold Book of Grown-Up Fairytales
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Title: Black Balled
Author: Andrea Smith and Eva LeNoir
Release: May 11, 2015
Genre: M/M Romance
Two dominant males, two worthy adversaries, in a business that takes no prisoners, will soon learn that fate refuses to be ignored . . .
My name is Troy Babilonia, but I'm best known as Babu, a renowned literary critic with my own online column. I'm followed by thousands! I'm a living god in the literary world. I have no filter, and for that, my flock of humble followers are forever grateful. If it weren't for me, they wouldn't know what to read. I have zero tolerance for the weak-minded attention seekers, nor do I have respect for the self-proclaimed geniuses of the Indie world. My advice to all Indie authors is to never break the cardinal rule in this cut-throat business. Ever.
My name is L. Blackburn and I'm an Indie author. My extraordinary genius was loved and worshiped throughout the literary world, until one egocentric critic tried to obliterate my career. It seems I broke some fucking "cardinal rule," and now I'm paying the price for it. But I don't plan on going down without a fight.
After all, when a predator goes after your cub, it's time to go for the throat--and maybe more...much more.
Barnes & Noble
Behind me I hear Larson, “Troy…hey, it’s…”
“Don’t!” I yell, my eyes narrowing as I stalk my prey, my eyes flickering over Floyd’s hot pink shirt. I feel insulted and, for a moment, I debate whether it’s the dandy that should be on the receiving end of my fist or Larson. I quickly decide to strike the nearest prey first. My fist shoots out and cuffs him good with an uppercut to the chin, sending him sprawling backwards, where he unceremoniously lands on one of Larson’s black glass end tables, knocking the lamp to the floor. The sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the room, and I’m not done yet. I move towards him and, realizing he’s still in a daze, I take the opportunity to snatch him up with both hands fisting the collar of his shirt, and shove him against Larson.
“Is he what you want, Larson, huh? You want to fuck the flamer here? Because I can clear out right now so that you and Pink Floyd can take up where you left off before I so rudely interrupted your cozy soiree.”
Larson chuckles and I’m not fucking amused.
As I focus my gaze on Larson, I don’t catch the quick movement of Floyd as he lunges at me with a growl. “My name is Lloyd,” he hisses, “And I believe I made my position quite clear the last time we spoke. You’re not good enough for my Larson.”
And that’s when I deck him again. Hard. My fist meets his perfectly straight nose, and the sound of crunching cartilage resounds just before his shriek of pain.
“Sir!” he calls out, stumbling backwards, immediately tilting his head upward and placing a palm over his bloodied nose so as not to allow anything to stain his expensive pink shirt. “Sir,” he repeats, “Are you going to permit this?”
Oh. Sir it is, huh? What kind of fucking weirdness was Blackburn into with this dudette? I turn to acknowledge Larson, who is standing there, muscular arms crossed and his sexy drawstring pajama bottoms hanging low on his narrow hips. He’s shaking his head, and I don’t miss the sexy grin.
My. Dick. Is. Hard.
His package is evident and his cock has made a bit of a tent beneath those sweats. Not sure if that’s for me or if the sight of Pink Floyd’s blood is getting him hard.
“Well, sir,” I say, trying to mimic Lloyd’s voice and dripping sarcasm along the way. “Speak up. Who’s it gonna be, huh? Me or your Fifty Shades of Whack over there?”
I watch, a bit confused, as Larson casually strolls over to the kitchen counter and takes hold of his beer before making himself comfortable on the bar stool. The room is silent but for the wheezing coming from the damsel in distress over there. I’m guessing he’s uncomfortably numb in the entire nose region.
“Let’s see,” my soon-to-be-ex-lover begins as he adjusts the rapidly growing erection he is sporting, “Could you start over because the view is much better from here?” Then he takes a sip of his beer and waves his hand as though giving us permission to continue.
Andrea Author Bio:
Andrea Smith is a USA Today Best-Selling Author.
An Ohio native, currently residing in southern Ohio. The Past Tense Future Perfect trilogy is Ms. Smith's first self-published work. Having previously been employed as an executive for a global corporation, Ms. Smith decided to leave the corporate world and pursue her life-long dream of writing fiction.
Ms. Smith's second series, The 'G-Man Series' consists of four novels and a novella. Her 'Limbo Series' is her first venture into a blend of romantic/suspense, mystery with steamy scenes and a paranormal edge.
Eva LeNoir Author Bio:
Eva LeNoir grew up travelling with her parents to various countries in the world. Reading was her constant companion during her travels and her ability to adapt to different cultures fed her mind with endless possibilities. The characters swimming in her head are always from various horizons with a multitude of dreams and aspirations. However, all of these voices always have one thing in common: The women are strong and independent. A true believer in the female cause, Eva's wish is to portray the women in her books as the leaders. She sees them walking hand in hand with their partners and not be the sheepish followers of the male gender. But most of all, Eva LeNoir wants to offer her readers a moment of pleasure as they dive into the world of her mind's creation.
CONGRATULATATIONS TO CASSANDRA SPARKS!! You will be receiving the $15 Amazon GC! Thanks to everyone for stopping by!
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Hunter’s Mark is a retelling of the Grimm tale The Skillful Huntsman. In original story, the huntsman hero meets up with some giants who ask him to shot and kill a tiny dog that guards a palace so they can get to the princess inside. The huntsman kills the dog but decides not to leave the princess to the cruelty of the giants. He tricks and slays them instead. Yay for the princess, boo hiss for the poor dog!
As a doggie mama, there was no way I’d have my hero do this. So I decided to include the dog in my story as a very important character.
Priss was a stray my other hero Casey found and cares for. Priss returns this care with fierce love, loyalty, and protection for his owner. Raised by humans, Casey must suppress his wolf shifter nature. Priss helps Casey keep calm, allowing him to remain in control. While a tiny, white Pomeranian, Priss has a big spirit. Big enough to stand toe-to-toe with a badass wolf shifter assassin.
In addition to the excerpt below, here are a few snippets of Priss in action.
When Hunter drugs and kidnaps his owner:
Peering over his shoulder, he [Hunter] saw the dog lick its owner’s still cheek.
“Want a treat?” He offered it a piece of Slim Jim. The pooch gave him a “f**k you” look and growled. Not so friendly now.
He raised his shades and allowed his eyes to shift, his wolf staring down the puff ball. It quivered but didn’t yield. He growled long and low, and the dog barked at him before flashing tiny white teeth. Ballsy little thing. His wolf decided to take a different tack and whined. The pooch moved and let him search the smaller man’s clothing.
And when his owner has a bad dream:
The young shifter mumbled and thrashed around on the bed. Priss pawed at him and whined, but Little Wolf didn’t wake up. Priss gave him [Hunter] a “fix this, motherf****r” look. Damn, for a prissy little thing, the dog was hardcore.
Artist Casey Smith lives a quiet life, under the radar of his enemies, until one fateful night he loses control and the astonishing image of a wolf racing down a suburban street splashes all over social media.
Hunter’s bullet never misses its target. The assassin seeks out and kills his prey with a clear conscience by following two simple rules: 1) Don’t kill innocents 2) Don’t kill shifters.
Realizing his latest assignment violates those rules, the hunter activates Princess Protocol and the assassin becomes the protector. Red hot attraction flares between the hit man and his former target. Can Hunter resist the sweet shifter in his care?
He stepped closer to Casey’s stall but stumbled over something small and furry. The toe of one Birkenstock caught on a clump of grass as he attempted not to trample the little beast, and he ass-planted with said beast jumping onto his chest to give him a broad doggie smile.
His buddy laughed piss-your-pants-hard in his ear. F**k a duck.
The target he’d worked so hard to observe remotely sank to the ground between his sprawled-out legs, peeling the tiny hairball off his chest and setting it on the ground.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
Big blue eyes fringed with long, pale lashes scanned his body while strong yet gentle hands moved over his ankles and legs, searching for an injury. Oh, a toucher. His wolf basked in the tactile attention. His breath hitched as those hands glided past his knees and skimmed his thighs.
Damn, he needed to get laid after this assignment.
“Oh, my, what a li’l sweetie. Look at those freckles! I wonder if he’s got them everywhere. I’d like to lick them,” Rex crowed in his ear.
The other man chortled. “Possessive, much?”
He inhaled deeply, only to be slammed with the force of a Mack truck. Strawberries on a warm summer’s day and fresh-cut grass—shit, his target smelled delicious. He took another breath, and his brain reeled. He’s a wolf shifter, too? F**k.
Casey’s brows furrowed. “Where are you hurt?”
He forced a smile. “I’m fine. No worries.”
Casey returned the smile, his wide and high beam combined with sparkling eyes. Hunter stared as warmth wrapped around him like a blanket. He had no ammo against such a happy, open expression. The guy freaking glowed.
V.S. Morgan has lived all over the US but calls Minnesota her home now. Her family includes her hubby, son, and a menagerie of pets.