Book Blitz & Excerpt: Shadow Guardian + Giveaway

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Shadow Guardian
by Jennie Lynn Roberts
Publication date: February 8th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Not all shadows are what they seem…

Kay swore an oath to use her Shadows to guard the light—an oath she takes very seriously. So, when a dark Shadow arises to terrorize London, she steps up and fights back. The last thing she expects is to find herself being patched up by a sexy paramedic who has no idea what kind of power he could control… or for her Shadows to recognize him as their perfect match.

Ethan doesn’t trust easily—not in matters of love, and certainly not in… whatever supernatural secrets Kay’s mixed up in. But the more time they spend together, the more he realizes he needs her with an intensity he’s never known before. Accepting her crazy, Shadow-filled world will be difficult. Opening his heart to her… he’s afraid that might be a step too far.

But the dark Shadows are growing. Their enemy is powerful—and closer than anyone realizes. Can Kayleigh and Ethan claim their happily ever after? Or will the darkness claim them first?

Shadow Guardian, the first book on the Blood Shadows Trilogy, is an adult paranormal romance for readers who love fated mates, fast-paced adventure and plenty of spice. Each book in the trilogy follows a different couple and has its own guaranteed HEA. The story concludes in book three.  

Goodreads / Amazon


Kay picked her words carefully. “If you’ve never been in a Circle, how did you learn to Heal like that?” Having to figure out his abilities alone must have been extraordinarily difficult. He was obviously powerful, and extremely controlled.

Ethan shook his head defensively. “I’m a paramedic; that’s what we do.”

No. There was far more to it than that. Far more to him.

She wanted to know him, know his story. And it wasn’t just because she’d never heard of someone being missed like that before; it was Ethan himself. Something about him called to her and made the Shadows around her flicker uncertainly, almost as if they were reaching out toward him. She wished she could lean over and drown in his warm, clean scent.

Kay stifled a snort at her own dramatics. Clearly, the adrenaline crash was messing with her emotions. This wasn’t like her at all.

She was a Guardian, and it was her duty to help him. That was it. Nothing at all to do with the way his arm muscles flexed as he worked and how desperately she wanted to run her fingers along his tanned skin. Nothing to do with his aura of confidence and self-assurance, or his kindness, or the way his brown eyes focused on hers. Nothing. At. All.

She cleared her throat and looked away.

Ethan stood up, frowning, and started packing up. “I’ll just go and get that police officer for you; they’ll want a statement, I imagine.”

Kay’s Shadows fluttered somewhere deep in her chest, and before she’d thought about it, she found herself reaching out to take his hand; to stop him before he could turn away.

Her whole body was instantly filled with warmth and awareness. Like the first step into a hot shower after being outside on a cold winter’s day. The jolt as water hits skin, one minute freezing, the next burning with heat. Or the moment after opening her eyes into bright sunshine after sleeping on the beach, everything too bright and disorienting.

She pulled her hand back in surprise, flexing her fingers slightly as they tingled. Ethan looked just as stunned as she felt, his hand held out slightly away from his body. “What happened?” he asked roughly.

“I don’t know.” She genuinely didn’t. She’d heard of an instant, undeniable connection between two Shadow Weavers, but was this what it felt like? She had no idea.

Author Bio:

Jennie Lynn Roberts believes that every strong, kickass heroine should have control of her own story, a swoony hero to support her at every turn, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Because that doesn’t always happen in real life, she began creating her own worlds that work just the way they should. And she hasn’t looked back since.

Jennie would rather be writing than doing anything else—except for spending time with her gorgeous family, of course. But when she isn’t building vibrant new worlds, she can be found nattering with friends, baking up a storm, or strolling in the woods around her home in England.

If you want to talk books, romance, movies, reluctant heroes, or just about anything else with Jennie, feel free to contact her But be prepared to settle in for a long chat if you bring up shifters, vampires, Star Wars, or The Princess Bride….

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Pinterest

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Wishcraft + Giveaway

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by Ali Lucia Sky
(The Powers That Be, #2)
Publication date: February 8th 2022
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

With Michaela in the debt of Shayteen, Whisper is finally free of the Hell World he suffered in for hundreds of demon years. But there seems to be a price for Whisper’s all-new freedom and it has made Whisper’s life just as, or even more complicated. Whisper is serving his true nature and dealing with Michaela’s service to Shayteen, all while trying to hang on to a stubborn soulmate, who won’t forgive him for the most ridiculously perceived transgressions in this life, and one or two from some previous ones. Stuck in the middle of everything, is a broken hearted Gabriel, whose odd obsessions with cooking shows, has turned him into Suzy Homemaker.

~ It’s best to know, you leave those you care about before they leave you. I’m Theadora Langdon … and EVERYTHING sucks.

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“Michaela. You are going to make it through this,” Whisper promised. He would know since he had been in Shayteen’s realm for hundreds of years. Time was different there. One month is equal to a year in the Hell World. I have no one else right now, which makes Whisper the unlucky recipient of my awkward hug. I bury my face into his chest and inhale. “You smell like him,” I say, and wrap my scrawny arms around his middle. He’s warm, something I never feel anymore. I’m perpetually cold.

He’s a moment of comfort and my lungs fill with something sweet, sexy, and excruciatingly mine.


Whisper’s arms tighten around my shoulders and one of his huge hands presses my face further into the material I want to dissolve myself into.

“I wish I could hear his voice.” My whisper ends in a terrible gasp as pain erupts inside my chest where my heart is supposed to reside.

Whisper tenses and then relaxes again. “I wish I could give you what you want, but you don’t trigger my magick anymore than I trigger it with my own wishes.”

I push away from him. I can’t feel up and sniff my only friend all day. It’s Sunday–my first day in an empty house. I have a goal for today. I’ve got a paper to write for Social Science about human trafficking. I didn’t pick the topic and the irony doesn’t escape me. It is due tomorrow, fourth period. I failed to hand in my first two drafts, so this paper better be BBC News quality to make up the two letter grades I have already been dinged with.

“I have homework to do.” I say to Whisper. “I’m not kicking you out, but I am telling you that you have to go.” I say, shooting finger pistols toward the front door.

“I was hoping that I could crash here for a few hours actually. I haven’t had much sleep lately,” Whisper calls over his shoulder and makes his way to the stairs. “I will be as quiet as a church mouse.”

“Don’t you have a bed in that fucking ritzy apartment you whipped up in that imaginary life you have in Hillsboro?” I follow after him.

“My imaginary life is brought to me by your stupidity. He-Who-Musn’t-Be-Thought-Of doesn’t sleep much. I can’t sleep because he makes a shit ton of noise all night, and keeps the volume on the TV up to forty so he can hear it in the kitchen from the living room. Then, I come here to babysit your nightmares. I read a blog post about how kids respond when parents split up. I think I’m suffering from those same struggles. However, none of the articles suggest what to do when two soulmates split up and prove to be major pains in the backside.” His heavy footfalls carry to the guest room, which has become his de facto bedroom. His last sentence disappears behind the closing door.

“Darius Albrecht! If you are staying, the fee is that fucking shirt. I want it. Don’t you dare sleep in it and get your cooties on it.” I bellow.

The door opens and I follow the foot falls as they thud through the ceiling above me toward my bedroom and then back to his. The door slams this time.

“Darius!” I yell again. “Don’t you sleep with those boots on the bed. Mom hates that!”

A loud crash comes from upstairs as a boot hits the wall. His muffled voice filters down through the ceiling. “Don’t use that name, Michaela! Shayteen will punish us both!”

“Fuck him,” I mumble. “He’s the one who told it to me.”


Author Bio:

Ali Lucia Sky is the author of The Powers That Be series. She lives in Southern California with her husband and a house full of kitty cats and a yard full of crows.

She loves laughing, drinking good coffee, the smell of pizza, and supporting animal rescues.

When she isn’t writing or dreaming of new stories, she can be found planning her next vacation because traveling is LIFE.

If you encounter her in the wild, don’t be offended if she should run away. She’s timid with strangers, but can be plied with shiny things and pictures of your cat or dog.

She’s a weirdo like that.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Pinterest / TikTok

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Cover Reveal & Excerpt: Bewitching a Highlander + Giveaway


Today Roma Cordon, CamCat Books, and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover for BEWITCHING A HIGHLANDER, her debut Historical Fantasy Romance which releases June 7, 2022! Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!

 On to the reveal!


(A Scottish Highland Warriors Novel #1)

Author: Roma Cordon

Pub. Date: June 7, 2022

Publisher: CamCat Books

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook

Pages: 368

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, Kindle, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, TDB,



Defying all for the love of a bewitching lass.

Breena MacRae, a healer from Skye with a touch of witchery in her blood, embarks on a dangerous search for her missing father. She arrives on the Isle of Coll, seat of the vile Campbells. There, she encounters the debonair future chief to the Dunbar Clan, Egan, who rescues her from a Campbell sentry.

Egan Dunbar is on Coll to keep the peace between the feuding Campbells and Dunbars. But when he catches Breena in a lie, he agrees to help her find her father to pay back an old debt and get to the bottom of the secrets she’s hiding.

As their attraction for each ignites like a firestorm, Breena and Egan realize a future together could trigger deadly consequences—a clan war between the Campbells and the Dunbars. Is Egan willing to betray his clan for love, even though he knows Breena is keeping secrets from him? Can Breena trust him with her family secret and put those she loves at risk?




“You have witchcraft in your lips. .

William Shakespeare, Henry V.

October 28, 1747—Isle of Coll, Scotland

Breena MacRae’s heart beat out of tune from the cacophony of their wagon’s rattling. Sixteen horse hooves trampled the knurled road, pulling them southwest toward the  Campbells’ keep, a clan she blamed for most of her childhood miseries.  Three weeks ago, she’d awoken from nineteen years of delusions, yet  it was no less painful living the truth. Her parents had neither died in  some horrific accident nor left because of her.
Breena was after all the  most deplorable witch the MacRaes and Maxwells ever had the lamentable fortune to beget.  

Uncle Craig leaned over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The  clumsy yet affectionate gesture grounded her. It rid her of her punishing  thoughts. 

“We aught to go over the plan again.”  

She would always be obliged to him and Aunt Madeline.
They’d  been her guardians since she was six, although many times since then,  despite the fact that she loved them both with all her heart, they’d made  her want to either scream or blaspheme.  

Sometimes both. 

His familiar features reminded her of her mother’s, his little sister. “All right, but understanding the need to lie doesn’t make it any less  difficult,” she said.  

“Difficult it may be, but it will keep us alive.” 

She huffed. He was too cautious. Or was she not cautious enough? Breena blinked up as the afternoon sun reconsidered slipping pass  horizontal puffs of clouds. 

Mayhap she herself should reconsider her decision to come here. No. Even if there was a remote possibility her father was alive, she  had to attempt to find him. She had to free him. Her heart ached for all he  must have endured. She’d believed him dead for the past nineteen years,  until three weeks ago, when lovable yet scatterbrained Aunt Madeline  had let slip the truth. After suffering from dysentery and a bout of guilt,  her aunt had blurted out that Ian might still be alive.
Had Aunt Made line known she wasn’t at death’s door, she might have been more steadfast in her secrecy. Craig and Madeline had insisted her parents wanted  the truth kept from her all this time. The secrecy and deception might  have been the stimulant for her childhood misery, but it hadn’t been the  cause. Nonetheless, it had resulted in long, wasted years.  Her dream from the previous night replayed in her mind. Beloved  Grandmother Sorcha, their majestic matriarch, had told her Ian had  something to reveal. If Breena believed dreams were a sign of things to  come, then it was a sign her father was indeed alive. But she didn’t know  if she believed in dreams. After all, she lacked the gift of second sight. The revered Sorcha on the other hand wielded her own gift of sight like a true  proficient,
when she was alive. 

A chilled hollowness speared her innards, causing a shiver to run up  her spine. It had been her tormentor since she was six. Often she paused  and wondered what had slipped her mind, what she had forgotten—perhaps she’d missed something. Then it would hit her. She hadn’t missed anything, hadn’t forgotten anything, nothing had slipped her mind. It was  only that her parents had vanished, without a word, leaving an acute aching void. She pulled her woolen arisaid tighter around her shoulders and  prayed not only that their scheme would work on the Campbells but that  she could rid herself of this ache in the pit of her belly, once and for all. 

She gazed out the wagon as the panoply that was the Isle of Coll  rolled by. The crisp October breeze swept her cheeks as she eyed the  chestnut-feathered corncrakes scavenging the beachgrass-infested sand  dunes. Nature’s russets, umbers, and olives, always vibrant at home on  the Isle of Skye, were starved for luster here on Coll.  

A lone angler in the distance slumped his shoulders in a small skiff,  then gazed up at the sky as if beseeching heavenly bodies for a boon be fore casting a net onto the surface of the ocean. The earthiness of the  damp ground below mingling with the briny sea air and the pungency  of kelps filled her nostrils as she inhaled a cleansing breath.
She was well  acquainted with the pain of unanswered pleas. Well, mayhap the tide was  changing for them both. 

When she caught the incessant tapping of her fingers on the side of  the wagon, she pulled her hand back into her lap.  

“I’ll wager they don’t even remember the name Beth MacRae after nineteen years.” Breena fought against the agonizing emotions that  flooded her every time she said her mother’s name.  Craig’s brown eyes looked back at her from beneath shaggy brows,  the slight impatience that twitched his cheek muscles highlighting his wrinkles. “That’s a wager I’ll not be taking, for the price of losing is finding our necks at the wrong end of a noose.” 

George, her uncle’s worker, flipped the reins up ahead with a sharp,  practiced snap. A throaty intake of breath escaped his mouth.
“Holy  Saints. It looks haunted.” 

Breena’s head snapped up to follow his gaze. The back of her neck  prickled. Castle Carragh loomed grim on the horizon. George was as  strong as a feral goat but simpleminded. 

“There are no such things as ghosts, she said.” But from her sudden  inability to swallow, she wasn’t sure she believed her own attempt to as suage his fears.  

If the builders of this castle had meant to strike terror into its visitors, they’d carried out their goal to perfection. The shadows cast by Carragh against the backdrop of the setting sun stretched out toward them  like crooked talons, warning them to keep away.  

She ignored the warning and said a silent plea that they were not too  late, that her father was still alive. 

As they approached the castle’s outer gates, Breena made out two  menacing sentries dressed in threadbare tartan trews of blue and green,  the colors of the Campbell clan. They were each outfitted with a sword,  mace, and a flintlock rifle; were they preparing for war? George pulled  their wagon up closer to the gate, reined in the horses, and lowered his  head, awaiting instructions. It always caused Breena such disquiet to  see such a large man lower his head like that. She had known
George  for close to a decade, since he’d come to work for Craig, and despite his  broad, hulking body he was the gentlest person Breena had ever met.  

When one of the sentries at the gate brandished his sword, Breena’s dry gulp refused to be suppressed. His flared nostrils and squinting  eyes made his pugnacious expression more acute. Did he wish to intimidate them? If so, he’d gotten his wish. The other sentry snarled, exposing crooked incisors, as he scratched his crotch. Breena eased the tension  in her face into what she hoped was a pleasant smile, even as her fingers curled against her damp palms. The squinty-eyed sentry scowled.
“What’s your business here?”  

“I’m Craig Maxwell. I’m a healer and spice merchant. May we be of  service to your clan?”  

Neither Squinty Eyes nor Crooked Incisors was impressed by her  uncle’s request. Squinty Eyes spat on the ground, his scowl deepening.  He sauntered to the back of their wagon and started sifting through their  supplies.  

All of a sudden he lifted his sword high in the air and brought it  down in an echoing crash on the lock of a trunk. Breena gasped out loud  in surprise.  

Craig jumped down from the wagon and stumbled toward Squinty  Eyes. “I’ll show you whatever you wish, but there’s no cause to break our  trunks.”  

Squinty Eyes raised his hand, still gripping the sword and slammed  the hilt down, with a dull thud, into Craig’s jaw. Breena’s body froze with  horror. Her uncle teetered backward and fell to the ground, landing on  his rump.  


Dread rose up her gullet as she jumped down from the wagon, almost buckling at the knees, landing with more force than anticipated.  She ignored the approaching thunder of hooves and rushed toward  Craig. She couldn’t lose him too. She just couldn’t. She took hold of  Craig’s arms and helped him from the ground. 

“Are you hurt?”  

Her uncle’s mouth was open, his gaze flat. She took some of his  weight as he leaned against her. He was in shock. There was blood at the  side of his mouth, at the end of an ugly cut, where he’d been struck.
A sharp pang of fear speared her midriff as she reached into her pocket for  a clean square of linen and, with a gentle touch, dabbed the blood away.  Her uncle’s worker approached them with hesitant steps.
Breena sent him a cursory glance, noting the fear in his bulging eyes  when he saw Squinty Eyes. 

“George, why don’t you remain with the horses?” Breena said.
His head bobbed. “Yes, mistress.” 

George understood horses, but he had difficulty with people.
She returned her attention to Craig. She took hold of her uncle’s  chin, avoiding the darkening bruise that was now a stark contrast to his  pale skin. She inspected the wound as she gently followed his jaw line  with her fingers all the way to his neck. Nothing broken. She closed her  eyes and exhaled a breath of relief.  

Craig was a graying man of eight and fifty with a slim build, whereas  Squinty Eyes was younger and more than twice the size of her uncle.  Breena ground her teeth when another drop of blood fell from Craig’s  mouth. Her pulse raced with heated indignation. How dare this barbaric  bully strike Craig? How dare he block them from entering this atrocious  castle? It’s not as if there were endless visitors clamoring for entrance.  Losing her parents and years of this aching void pushed her to retaliate.  But she couldn’t. They were at the utter mercy of this insolent sentry to  gain entrance to the Campbells’ keep. He held their fate and her father’s  life in his hands, a fact he was utterly unaware

As she tended to Craig, a loud snigger pierced the air. She swung  around to see Squinty Eyes dangling a gossamer shift off the tip of his  sword, right above the now-broken trunk. He jutted his flaccid chin in  Breena’s direction as he addressed Craig. 

“You let me have a roll in the hay with the lass and I’ll let you in.” Breena’s eyes narrowed at the crude proposition. The insult dug  in. Her heart rate quickened as self-preservation and a survival instinct unfurled inside her. The heat of it spread throughout her entire body like  a wave of sickness, making her shake. “You bastard.”  

Rationality went out the window as she took two steps forward and  dealt a resounding slap across the sniggering face of Squinty Eyes.
He  was caught off guard, judging by the way his mouth fell open and his  head jerked back. His odious stench made Breena want to pinch the tip  of her nose shut and breathe through her mouth.  

But then, coldness sank into her stomach. Oh no. No. What had she  done? She blinked, trying to swallow against the rising bile, and stepped  back.  

She would never forgive herself if they were barred entrance because  of her foolhardy actions. She’d never done anything like that before.  What was the matter with her? The earlier mention of a noose burned  her ears. 

Squinty Eyes recovered. He grunted and swore as he grabbed her.  His grip, like cold steel, dug into her soft flesh. He wrenched her right  arm forward. Her mouth tightened with defiance as she glared at him.
Even as her right shoulder was at risk of dislocating under his granite  hold, she held her chin high. She would not give this bully the satisfaction of seeing her cower.  

“You brazen wench, how dare you strike me?”  

His eyes bulged, and spittle escaped from his mouth. She tugged  and pulled to no avail as the pounding of horses’ hooves reverberated in  the air around them. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a towering, broad-shouldered Highland warrior dismounting from the blackest  stallion she’d ever seen.  

He stormed Squinty Eyes from behind.


About Roma Cordon:

Roma Cordon was introduced to romance novels in her teenage years and instantly became a voracious reader of the genre. In the 1990s, she came to live in New York where she earned her undergraduate and graduate degrees. After taking a writing course at New York University with Anne Rice, she dived into the world of writing while testing
the waters at public speaking at her local Toastmasters club. By day, Roma works in the finance industry; in the evenings and weekends, she is a passionate romance writer. She also writes on her blog


Inspiration for Roma’s debut novel, Bewitching a Highlander came from trips to Scotland with her husband. Roma is an active member of the RWA-NYC Chapter and lives in New York with her husband where they care for two adorable furry friends adopted from local shelters.


Sign up for Roma’s mailing list for exclusive news & updates! Scroll down to the bottom of her home page.


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