Demon Child by Kylie Chan

 

Demon Child
Celestial Battle
Book Two
Kylie Chan
Genre: Science Fiction
Publisher: HarperCollins/Harper Voyager
Date of Publication:  2/24/2015
ISBN: 9780062329080
Number of pages: 544
Book Description:
Australian bestseller Kylie Chan returns with a new, fast-paced adventure of magic, martial arts, and romance.
This trilogy follows the story of John Chen and Emma Donohoe. They have just found out that Emma has Demon blood. The Sidhe – or Shining folk, who defeated the Western Shen a thousand years ago – are prepared to do battle against the Western Shen to retain their dominance.
Emma’s allegiance is torn: to fight for her kind, the Western demons she is descended from, or to stand alongside her beloved Xuan Wu.
Available at HarperCollins

 

Add it to Your Goodreads Shelf
 
About the Author:
Kylie Chan is the bestselling author of the Dark Heavens and Journey to Wudang trilogies. She married a Hong Kong national in a traditional Chinese wedding ceremony.
Kylie has studied Kung Fu and Tai Chi and is a senior belt in both forms. She has also made an intensive study of Buddhist and Taoist philosophy and has brought all of these interests together into her storytelling.
She lived in Hong Kong for many years and now lives in Brisbane, Australia.
Twitter: @kyliechan
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Infected: Prey by Andrea Speed

 

HE was on his third beer of the evening when he thought he heard a noise in the

backyard.

Hank DeSilvo scowled and looked out the window over the kitchen sink full of dirty

dishes. He could see nothing but darkness, and maybe a bit of reflected light from the television.

This was probably a bad time to remember the back porch light had blown out two days ago, and

he’d forgotten to replace it.

Not that it mattered. The only light currently in the house was coming from the

television, and as long as he ignored it, he developed enough night vision to make out a shape

moving in the back garden. Or was it the wind moving a shrub? Kind of hard to say.

He slammed his can down with an annoyed grunt. It was probably the Hindles’ stupid

ass dog again, shitting all over the place and tearing through his garbage. He hated that fucking

thing, some ugly Rottweiler mix they insisted was a “friendly” dog, and yet it always had a look

in its flat, black eyes that was just this side of rabid. They never leashed the damn thing either,

and apparently his yard destruction was “cute.” He was just about out of this fucking place and

that damn thing had to make a final appearance. And it was final all right; he was going to make

damn sure of that.

He went back to the living room, glancing at the game as he walked past—it was a

fucking damn boring game anyway—and got his shotgun from the cabinet. It was illegal as all

hell, a sawed-off thirty ought six with the barrels cut so short you could have stowed it under a

jacket, but the barrels had been filed down expertly; it wasn’t just the rough work of a desperate

amateur but the sign of a pro. Which was why, when they’d searched the drug mule’s truck and

he’d found it wedged under the front seat, he hid it in his trunk and didn’t report finding it. It

wouldn’t have added that much to the mule’s sentence; he already had enough rock in his glove

compartment to put him away for the rest of his pointless life, especially if it was his “third

strike” (and it was, no surprise there), and he doubted the guy was so stupid that he’d actually

ask why he wasn’t charged with owning an illegally modified weapon. Yeah, he was dumb;

you had to be dumb if you were speeding and had a few thousand in rock in the car, as well as

being obviously stoned yourself. But asking after that was a special kind of stupid, the kind only

politicians and people on reality television ever seemed to crest.

He cracked open the gun and made sure he had some shells loaded in it before snapping

it shut again with a sharp flick of his wrist. Man that felt good. This was a real man’s weapon,

made him feel a foot taller and made of pure muscle, and he knew why that meth fuckhead was

carrying it around with him. A weapon like this was a real god-killer; it made you feel invincible.

It was pure overkill, of course. The Hindles’ dog was fairly big, and yet one shot from

this gun would rip it in half clean down the middle, as well as make a boom loud enough to set

off every car alarm on the block. But what the fuck did he care? He was an ex-cop; he’d say the

dog charged him, and on his property he could shoot the fucking thing if he wanted. He’d swap

out the sawed-off for his Remington before they arrived. Ballistics wouldn’t match, but by the

time they proved that, he’d be long gone. Good-bye, shit-hole city; hello, tropical paradise. It

was just a shame that it took him this long to collect.

He stood at the back door for a moment, cradling the shotgun gently, and let his eyes get

adjusted to the dark before going out onto the concrete patio. He had a mini Maglite with him

with a red lens over the bulb, so if there was something he needed to see he could twist it on

without losing his night vision. Not that he needed to make a direct hit; even if he just winged the

dog, he’d probably rip half its face off, maybe a leg.

First step off the patio his foot squelched in something; it felt too liquid to be shit, but

the smell that hit him was meaty, redolent of shit and offal and God knew what else. Had that

fucking dog already strewn his garbage about? Goddamn it.

Holding the shotgun in one arm, he turned on the flashlight and looked down at what

he’d stepped in.

At first it looked like a puddle, which didn’t make sense since it hadn’t rained in a week,

and the thought that it was dog piss was dismissed since it was dark, and dog piss wasn’t usually

black. Or was that red-black? Swinging the light outwards, he saw greasy, ropey strands that

couldn’t have come from his garbage can, and then a big hunk of raw, bloody meat like a lamb

shank… only it was too long and thin to be a shank, too dark, and ended in a paw.

It was a Rottweiler leg.

Someone—something—had dismembered the Hindles’ psychotic dog and spread about

a third of it all over his backyard. He saw the leg, which was the biggest piece, an assortment

of internal organs, loops of intestines laid out like fallen party streamers, and lots of blood. But

where was the other two thirds of the dog?

The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he knew he had to get the fuck inside now.

But as he turned, shotgun at the ready and braced against his hip, he saw the flash of white teeth

in the dim moonlight, and his brain sent out the impulse to pull the trigger.

He didn’t have time to wonder why it never happened as the teeth ripped open his throat.


Infected: Prey
Infected Series
Book One
Andrea Speed
Genre: Gay mystery/urban fantasy
 
Publisher: DSP Publications
ISBN: 163216325X
ASIN: B00NJRJZGG
Number of pages: 376
Word Count: 152,000
Cover Artist: Anne Cain
Book Description:
In a world where a werecat virus has changed society, Roan McKichan, a born infected and ex-cop, works as a private detective trying to solve crimes involving other infecteds.
The murder of a former cop draws Roan into an odd case where an unidentifiable species of cat appears to be showing an unusual level of intelligence. He juggles that with trying to find a missing teenage boy, who, unbeknownst to his parents, was “cat” obsessed. And when someone is brutally murdering infecteds, Eli Winters, leader of the Church of the Divine Transformation, hires Roan to find the killer before he closes in on Eli.
Working the crimes will lead Roan through a maze of hate, personal grudges, and mortal danger. With help from his tiger-strain infected partner, Paris Lehane, he does his best to survive in a world that hates and fears their kind… and occasionally worships them.

 

Available at    DSP Publications     Amazon
 
About the Author:
Andrea Speed was born looking for trouble in some hot month without an R in it. While succeeding in finding Trouble, she has also been found by its twin brother, Clean Up, and is now on the run, wanted for the murder of a mop and a really cute, innocent bucket that was only one day away from retirement. (I was framed, I tell you – framed!)
In her spare time, she arms lemurs in preparation for the upcoming war against the Mole Men. Viva la revolution!
Twitter: @aspeed

Platinum Pleasures by Kate Deveaux

“I worked up an appetite,” Mr R said after he’d polished off

the wide array of canapés she had set out for them. She’d

watched with amusement as he’d devoured everything. Even

the extra frozen flatbread pizza she’d pulled out and quickly

microwaved when he’d cleaned his plate. Now he was on to

the caviar. He must have been starving after fucking her like

she longed to be fucked.

It was so much fun being someone else, the mysterious Mrs

M, having anonymous sex while knowing her lover was there

just for her enjoyment. For her sheer ecstasy. And what a

turn on when he’d tied her legs together with his tie. Things

she’d never dreamed of doing with any of the men she’d

dated, and certainly not Charles. Hiring this man to fulfil her

fantasies had allowed her to reach new, orgasmic heights.

Ones she’d merely imagined were possible before tonight.

Ones her girlfriends had bragged about, but she’d only ever

offered a polite nod, not wanting to reveal that she’d never

reached the mind and body experience they seemed to

deem a regular occurrence.

Thank goodness for Tara and that business card. This was a

whole new world for her with this Mr R. And she sure hoped

there was more where that came from, as long as her credit

card held out. She was a beginner, but so willing to learn at

the hands of this young hottie who made her body melt with

just a stroke of his fingers—or his impressive cock.

Looking at the clock, she saw it was past midnight. Probably

the cut off time for how late her Mr R was supposed to stay,

but there was no way she was going to say boo about him

leaving. Besides, he seemed to be genuinely enjoying

himself, even if he were paid to do this. No one could fake

that kind of ardour, could they?

He caught her gaze as he noted the time on the clock, but

he didn’t say anything as she passed him the caviar, nested

in a bowl of crushed ice. It was his second serving. She was

surprised he even liked the caviar, men his age seldom did.

Not that she had much experience with younger men, and

not that she wouldn’t like to—especially if they were all as

surprising, demanding and capable in the sack as this one.

But then of course, she knew he must have acquired these

refined tastes in his line of work. Pleasuring rich older

women. Maybe even younger women—there was no age

barrier on wealth, was there?

Not that she was wealthy any more, Charles had seen to

that. Her saving grace was her home, the penthouse her

mother had left her, the one she hoped to save from Charles’

clutches. Hopefully she could count on her experience in the

commercial interior design world to land her a job, and fast.

But all those worries could wait, if just for one night. Tonight

she was just Mrs M…wild, wanton and savouring what were

possibly her last few thousand dollars on her dream

Valentine.

Straightening her posture, she sipped her champagne and

sat slightly angled across from him on the settee. No point in

him seeing her little stomach roll that refused to go away and

looked worse when she was seated. She leaned towards

him, a trick she’d learned from Tara for making the body

appear thinner and the neck firmer. She swore it took years

off.

“Aren’t you hungry?” her delectable playmate inquired. He

grinned and handed her a toast point piled with caviar, along

with the egg and onion condiments he had carefully adorned

on it.

“Famished,” she said, playing the game, opening her mouth

wide.

He moved towards her and popped the morsel into her

waiting mouth. “You have a beautiful mouth.” His thumb

lingered on her bottom lip for a moment as he ran his other

hand suggestively along her thigh. His touch thrilled her

through the thin silk of her robe. “I’d like to see just what you

can do with it.”

Delighted by his attentions and feeling the intoxication of

both Mr R and the bottle of champagne they’d just polished

off, she teased his thumb on her bottom lip. With the tip of

her tongue, she flicked at it suggestively, watching his eyes

turn hungry as he pushed his thumb between her lips.

Looked like he wasn’t going home anytime soon.

 


Platinum Pleasures
Kate Deveaux
Genre: contemporary erotic romance            
Publisher: Totally Bound
Date of Publication: June 1, 2014
ISBN: 9781784300326
ASIN: B00KO0H90U
Number of pages: 100
Word Count: 25,815
Book Description:
One night…one fantasy for hire…one sizzling case of mistaken identity.
 
Ainsley Simmons can hardly believe she’s ordered a fantasy lover online — a man to fulfill her deepest sexual desires for the entire evening. She’s in for a surprise when sexy young Mr. R shows up at her door in a classic case of mistaken identity.
 
Ainsley has the night of her life being pleasured by the much younger and demanding multi-millionaire — until she discovers he’s not her fantasy lover after all.
He’s even better than that.
Available at  Totally Bound    Amazon    BN
About the Author:
Kate Deveaux is a contemporary, erotic romance writer and die-hard romantic. It was after reading Jane Eyre in high school, that she became hooked on the idea of writing about romance, excitement and drama. Kate has been penning stories, from the sensual to the sinfully sexy, ever since! 
A former wedding planner, Kate has always been “in love” with love!  She was inspired to transition from writing racy short stories to full length manuscripts after meeting other authors in the romance world at industry workshops, conferences and events. Originally from England, now resides in the U.S. with her husband.
When she’s not writing or reading, Kate can be found on the tennis court—yes, there’s even “love” in that game too!

The Curse Servant by J.P. Sloan

The Curse Servant
The Dark Choir
Book 2
J.P. Sloan
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Date of Publication:  February 26, 2015
ISBN (eBook): 9781620078228
ISBN (Paperback): 9781620078235
ISBN (Hardcover): 9781620078242
ISBN (Smashwords): 9781620078259
ASIN:  B00QEQN1XC
Number of pages:  346
Word Count:  99,400
Cover Artist:  Conzpiracy Digital Arts
Book Description: 
The one person standing between Hell… and an innocent girl… is a man without a soul.
A regular life isn’t in the cards for Dorian Lake, but with his charm-crafting business invigorated, and the prospect of a serious relationship within his grasp, life is closer to normal than Dorian could ever expect. In the heat of the Baltimore mayoral campaign, Dorian has managed to balance his arrangements with Deputy Mayor Julian Bright with his search to find his lost soul. Dorian soon learns of a Netherworker, the head of a dangerous West Coast cabal, who might be able to find and return his soul. The price? Just one curse.
Sounds easy… but nothing ever is for Dorian. A dark presence arrives in the city, hell-bent on finding Dorian’s soul first. Innocents are caught in the crossfire, and Dorian finds it harder to keep his commitments to Bright. When the fight gets personal, and the entity hits too close to home, Dorian must rely on those he trusts the least to save the ones he loves. As he tests the limits of his hermetic skills to defeat this new enemy, will Dorian lose his one chance to avoid damnation?

 

Available at Amazon
 
About the Author:
J.P. Sloan is a speculative fiction author … primarily of urban fantasy, horror and several shades between. His writing explores the strangeness in that which is familiar, at times stretching the limits of the human experience, or only hinting at the monsters lurking under your bed.
A Louisiana native, Sloan relocated to the vineyards and cow pastures of Central Maryland after Hurricane Katrina, where he lives with his wife and son. During the day he commutes to the city of Baltimore, a setting which inspires much of his writing.
In his spare time, Sloan enjoys wine-making and homebrewing, and is a certified beer judge.
Web page: www.jp-sloan.com
Twitter: @J_P_Sloan

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6569197.J_P_Sloan

Blue Words by MC Edwards

Excerpt:

“Don’t move or we’ll fire,” ordered one of the guards, his voice shook

and his trigger finger twitched. Gudrik glared at him and swiftly shot towards

George, who was now leaning over the stainless steel top rail, still scouring for

an escape which didn’t exist. The guards began to fire wildly at him. They may

not have seemed overly competent, but they could shoot. Several projectiles tore

through Gudrik’s flesh as he moved, spattering blue onto the grass. Startled by the

gunshots, George spun just in time to see the scruffy relic hurtling towards her. A

bullet buried into Gudrik’s knee. He stumbled. Before she had a chance to react,

Gudrik crashed into George. His momentum forced her backwards, toppling them

both indigently over the safety railing in a tangled mess of arms and legs.

The pair rocketed towards the ground. George screamed profanities so

coarse that they blistered the very air around her. She scrambled and flailed as

if trying to climb back up Gudrik’s body. He wrapped himself tightly around

her. “Earvictius groot,” he bellowed.

His bullet wounds glowed, and the tender flesh surrounding them began to

transform into cold, speckled granite. The stone rapidly spread along his limbs and

across his abdomen, searing with pain as it went. He cringed and grated his teeth.

As it spread across his chest and onto George she began to scream as though he

were slashing chunks of flesh from her. Thankfully, the agony did not linger and in

the blink of an eye, stone had completely swallowed both of them. No matter how

hard she tried George could not move. It was both claustrophobic and frightening.

The living statues whistled closer and closer to the ground.

Until……SMASH! They crashed unhindered onto the roof of a parked car. Glass

and shrapnel exploded from the vehicle as they tore through the chassis and into

the road beneath.

Just as painfully as it had spread, the rock retreated returning the flesh to

its vulnerable state, leaving it sensitive and speckled with sweat. Both lay for a

moment of recovery. Their chests heaved deeply as they came to terms with what

had just happened. Gudrik crawled out of the mangled wreck and climbed to his

feet. “Are you harmed?” he grunted, lifting George to her feet.

She was pale and disheveled with blank shock clouding her eyes. Time was

of the essence. Gudrik slapped her across the cheek. Fire filled her blank eyes.

She swung a punch, which he avoided. He grabbed her shoulders and repeated his

question, “Are you harmed?”

“I-I’m confused as hell,” she responded, panicked, but glad to be alive. “But

fine. I think. Yes fine. Definitely ok,” she stammered nervously, quickly checking

her body over for injuries and pulling her dress down to cover the lacy black

panties on show to the world. Her hand quickly went to her locket, checking it was

still there. “Was I made of stone then?” Gudrik ignored her question. His attention

was otherwise occupied. By that stage, a huge crowd of onlookers and good

Samaritans had gathered around their impact point.

“We must keep moving.”

He dragged his hand along a twisted shard of the car’s metal shell and

spoke, “Unjallius.”

Gudrik groaned as huge, white wings tore from the flesh of his back in a

puff of loose feathers and a splatter of blue. They stretched to a massive, elegant

span and quivered in the sun. The suit jacket and shirt were left torn and tattered,

spattered, stained and hanging in shreds from Gudrik’s muscled shoulders. The

stunned onlookers stepped back in awe. He grasped the confused woman tightly

and with a few powerful beats of his mighty wings launched the two of them into

the sky.

George clung tightly as they whipped and glided through the city. They

weaved between the highrise buildings, slowly gaining altitude and suddenly

plunging toward the ground as Gudrik negotiated the unpredictable up-drafts above

the busy city streets. George was not as terrified as her brain insisted she should

be. She loved the speed, she loved the wind and she loved the gaping faces of the

populous below. It all exhilarated her. Gudrik’s grasp was gentle and caring, but

still so firm and reliable that there was no fear of falling.

Finally, Gudrik surged up and breached the top of the sky scrapers. The

onlookers below were now nothing more than ants. George released her grip on

Gudrik and shielded her eyes. The sun was much fiercer up there without the

buildings’ protection. She swivelled and squirmed as she gathered bearings. “Land

on those cliffs over there,” George said pointing at a small lookout point above the

river.

Gudrik dived and swooped in, gently putting the two of them down on the

grass in a rapid flutter of tiny wing beats. “Gratitude,” Gudrik grunted as the wings

collapsed into a sprinkling of blood.

 
Blue Words
MC Edwards
Genre: Contemporary/Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Warpath Print
Date of Publication: 30/11/14
ISBN: Paperback – 978-0994172303
ISBN: e-book – 9780994172310
ASIN: B00PWIW1ZC
Number of pages: 334
Word Count: 110,000
Cover Artist: Geoff Craig
Book Description:
Common threads have always woven through the world’s mythology and folklore, strings which seem to link cultures divided by the vastness of oceans and time.
Have you ever wondered why? What if I told you that they all stem from a single origin…..the Varth-lokkr. Within this ancient creature’s blood, stirs the power to save or enslave the world as we know it, a power ignited by a simple word. But which does it truly desire?
This dark urban fantasy follows one of these creatures through its emergence into 21st century Australia. It chronicles the rise of those who oppose it, those who ally themselves with it and those who are unwillingly drawn into its wake.
Shed the blood. Speak the words. Change the world.
Available for Purchase at Warpath Print
 
About the Author:
M.C. Edwards, or Eddie as he is known to his mates, grew up in a coastal town on the picturesque Central Queensland coast of Australia.  He has travelled to many corners of the world and has a love of all things bizarre.  He enjoys motorcycles, beards, comics, videogames and the taste of a fine single malt scotch.  In his writing he crafts immersive worlds which mix reality and fantasy to create a strangely believable mix.
Website – www.warpathprint.com