Book Blitz & Exceprt: Soul of the Imperian, by Jessamyn Kingley

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RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Soul of the Imperian (D’Vaire, Book 26)

Author: Jessamyn Kingley

Publisher: Self-published

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: December 9, 2021

Genre: M/M Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Tropes:  Enemies to lovers, fated mates

Themes: Fate, love

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length: 96 664 words

It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger.

Check out the D’vaire Series on Goodreads

 

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

 

Demons are expected to hate the Imperian, but what if he’s your mate?

Blurb

Praetor Sashati Soriandras is adjusting to his wonderful new life as part of the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. His new leader’s choice to leave the demonic realm gained Sashati’s immediate approval. There is nothing there but dark memories and a horrible legend about the butcher who ripped magic from the demons a millennium ago.

After being banished to a tiny realm, Imperian Paszratorabiel—or Paszra, as he prefers to be called—is waiting for his wings to grow back. The minute he recovers, Paszra hunts for a place to bring his family so they can find mates. When Paszra finds a planet full of interesting beings, the presence of demons is the only thing he hates about his potential new home.

When Sashati and Paszra meet, neither man is happy to learn they are mates. The demons blame Paszra for everything, while the Imperian despises Sashati’s people. However, they share a tradition of not denying Fate. But to honor the way their souls are connected, Paszra and Sashati must overcome much more than their initial dislike of each other.


Excerpt 

After they arrived in their office space, Sashati sprawled in his office chair and opened the book Arch Lich Chander Daray had suggested would further his education on the Council. 

“Reading again?” Diyarta asked. Once forced into teaching, Diyarta had left that life behind her for good. Her preference was to be in a gym sweating rather than burying her nose in between pages.

“I’m an advisor to our leader. I cannot function in that role if I don’t fully understand the Council.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m failing in my role as advisor?” Diyarta asked.

“I believe we have different strengths. You have the ear of the demons. You can advise Hexaniys on how to improve their lives. They are strangers to me and him. In our former realm and here in the Council, advisors have areas of expertise. If we were to study the same thing, our voices would be redundant.”

“You were so wasted as a guard in that palace,” Diyarta remarked.

“As long as I never have to return to such a role, I will have no complaints.”

“The same cannot be said for our people. You want to be an expert on the Council, but you cannot forget your place. Hexaniys lives with the Darays because he is one now. You are not. Hexaniys is safe surrounded by sentinels.”

“So are the demons,” Sashati replied. “They live in the Daray Sentinel Complex.”

“It is a temporary home, or at least it was supposed to be, I believed. They want to embrace being demons, not be forced into training and the things that sentinels love simply because the Imperator is mated to one.”

“No one has asked them to train. I do it because I like it.”

“As do I,” Diyarta said.

“One reason the complex suits them is because of the many classes the sentinels offer in the evenings and on weekends. It was supposed to be an avenue for the demons to learn about the Council and to find something to give their lives purpose. Instead, they shop and rest in their apartments. They will go to restaurants for meals but not to the sentinels’ cafeteria.”

“I told you, they fear being lumped in with the sentinels.”

“They must find hobbies at the very least,” Sashati replied.

“They are recovering from the atrocities they’ve endured.”

“Diyarta, they refuse to even explain what happened while we were here at the behest of Masal’akra. How are we to help them if they will not discuss the war?”

“Perhaps when the wounds are not so fresh, they’ll be more forthcoming.”

“It has been many weeks,” Sashati said.

“They worry about you living with Hexaniys among the sentinel leadership.”

It was a cause of disagreement that had slowly grown between Sashati and Diyarta. The demons supposedly wanted Sashati to live among them, but Hexaniys and the Darays had offered bedrooms to Sashati and Diyarta. His fellow praetor had refused the invitation and gone to the Daray Sentinel Complex. 

Sashati was torn between the two places and didn’t know if he was right to stay near Hexaniys, but the demon refused to be dictated to by anyone. That was a life they’d left behind, and the new Imperator gave them plenty of space to make decisions for themselves. The problem, as far as Sashati could see it, was that the demons wanted to do nothing. They spent money and complained to Diyarta instead of exploring the Council.

“The guards of other leaders often elect to share homes or land with them,” Sashati said.

“Demons must find their own path.”

“I’m entitled to do what I choose.”

“Just don’t forget that you’re a demon.”

“How could I ever do that?” Sashati asked.

“It’s easy to get swept away into this world of sorcery and shifters, even though we differ from the others in this world. Our power is lost, and we must never forget how that came to be or that there is no ability to regain it.”

“My hatred for the Imperian burns as brightly as it has since the first time I heard his name,” Sashati growled. The Imperian inspired rage in him like nothing else could, and he doubted any demon lamented the loss of their magic more than Sashati. There was so much of it around them, and it pissed Sashati off to think that if it weren’t for a single man, he’d be casting spells alongside his new allies.

“I wish I had been alive in those days. I would’ve slit his throat myself.”

“Get in line, Diyarta,” Sashati retorted.


About the Author 

Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.

Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.

Visit her website 

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn’s Ruffian’s

Social Media Links

  Facebook |   Twitter  |   Pinterest  |  Facebook 

 

 

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Caught + Giveaway

Caught (A Balance of Magic #1) by Jackie Keswick

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Book Title: Caught (A Balance of Magic #1)

Author: Jackie Keswick

Publisher:  Jackie Keswick

Cover Artist: Jackie Keswick

Release Date:  September 24, 2021

Genre: M/M Fantasy

Tropes: love vs. duty, cinnamon roll death god, soul mates, found family, worlds in peril, two against the world, hurt/comfort

Series Themes: the world is fragile, short-term decisions have long-term consequences, gifts are given for a reason

Heat Rating:  3 flames    

Length:  52 000 words

This is book #1 in the series. The romance ends on a HFN. The main story arc continues across all three books, and Tenzen and Rakurai will get their HEA at the end of book #3.

Goodreads

 

Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Apple Books  |  B&N  |  Kobo

 

caught

 

Blurb

Rakurai hunts demons. He doesn’t consort with gods. Until he meets Tenzen.

Tenzen cares for souls. He despises the callous, self-absorbed Yuvine. Until he meets Rakurai.

A rescue and a sacrifice make a death god and a hunter fall in love, but a life of bliss is not on the cards. Someone is disturbing the balance of magic, leaving two worlds in danger. And while desire draws Rakurai and Tenzen together, duty, assassins, and clan politics keep them apart.

Who will Tenzen and Rakurai save in the end? Two worlds or each other?

Caught starts a new mm paranormal romance series, A Balance of Magic, featuring mortals and immortals from both sides of the veil, old promises, new revelations, and a bloody fight between love and duty. It is the first book of a trilogy and ends with a HFN. The characters will get their HEA in the final book.

 

 Excerpt

He walked through the mists, gaze scanning the trees and bushes lining the path. Judging by the colour of the leaves and the bounty of fruit, the seasons still aligned on both sides of the veil, though the time of day did not. He’d left the human realm in the late afternoon, yet here it appeared to be early morning. And something—or someone—called to him.

There were no words, just a powerful tug on his awareness. A tug that made him want to follow the path, walk faster, run—

He stopped.

Breathed.

The tug eased a fraction, but didn’t disappear.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The trees swallowed Rakurai’s question and returned no answer. Could this be the rafeet’s doing? Did it have the power to make Rakurai rush headlong into a trap? He’d never read of such a skill.

He took a careful step forward.

The tug eased a little more.

He took a step back the way he’d come.

The tug grew stronger.

“Understood,” he said, irony strong in his voice. He had to find the rafeet, but he could spare some time to see what other creature had need of him.

He followed the path, watching the bark of the trees, the grass, and the rushes underfoot for signs of the rafeet’s passing. There weren’t any now. The demon wouldn’t hunt on its own turf, and it would take care not to lead a hunter to its lair. 

It grew warmer as Rakurai walked, and the sun had passed its zenith when he topped a ridge overlooking a manor house set in a neat pattern of fields. The dwelling looked much like his own: three wings of rooms arranged around a courtyard, dark wooden beams on foundations of rough stone, with a veranda edging each wing, and shoji screens hiding the interior from view.

Servants passed back and forth, and Rakurai saw people tending the fields. He thought about approaching openly, like a traveller looking for a place to rest, but finally dismissed the idea. Instead, he slept the afternoon away, up on his ridge, then slid through the fields under cover of dusk, found a sheltered spot beside the house, and waited for full darkness.

The statue in the courtyard had drawn him here, he realised as he came closer. Shaped like a tall man with long flowing hair, it stood on a plinth surrounded by water. The artist had caught each swirl of robes and hair with precision, as if the figure walked in a light breeze and was just about to take the next step. It was an exceptional work, worthy of an emperor’s court, and Rakurai wondered who had stolen it, and why. 

He waited until a cloud dimmed the moonlight, then crossed the courtyard to get as close to the sculpture as he could.

The statue regarded him from glowing violet eyes, and the moment their gazes connected a voice, deep and commanding, rang in Rakurai’s mind.

Get me out of here!

Rakurai recoiled so hard he almost landed on his arse. He’d not had another’s voice in his mind since Naomi’s death and the sudden command—and command it had been—came as a shock. He wrapped himself in mist, hoping to hide his hasty movements, and heard a chuckle.

I can still see you, Yuvine.

I wasn’t hiding from you, Rakurai thought, using the same pathways he’d have used to talk to Naomi. It didn’t feel as strange as he’d expected.

You don’t need to try so hard, either. I’m not deaf.

What are you?

Can’t you tell? The sculpture shot back, its eyes flashing violet.

Only death gods, Shinigami, had violet eyes. Rakurai had never met a death god. Or thought that they stood frozen on plinths, surrounded by water.

And then it all came together.

A demon trap.

Yes. The voice held so much sorrow that tears gathered in the corners of Rakurai’s eyes. It caught me as I was returning from a soul collection.

Rakurai could fill in the rest for himself. If the Shinigami had gathered souls that had died in fear and pain, he’d have appeared like a walking banquet to the rafeet. It wants the souls.

It will not have them, the god said. Even if it keeps me trapped here for the rest of my years. Are you hunting the rafeet?

I am. 

Then you can help me escape this prison and we can defeat it together. 

Why would I do that?

Because if you try it alone, you will fail. This rafeet isn’t like the others.

Rakurai hesitated. It was common knowledge that Shinigami valued truth and honour above all other traits. Despite that, his teachers had warned him to mistrust the gods and never to do their bidding.

Help me out of this trap and I will grant you a boon of your choosing, the Shinigami offered as if he had heard Rakurai’s thoughts.

Rakurai stared into the glowing violet eyes and recalled the hint of mirth when the god had first spoken to him. Any being capable of mirth while caught in a rafeet’s trap deserved his respect and his help. He drew a deep breath. I am Yamakage Rakurai, hunter for the Custodia, he offered. And gathered all his courage. Will you honour me with your name?

The impression of a smile came to him first, comforting like a cool wash of summer rain on parched ground. Then the Shinigami’s chuckle sent shivers rippling over Rakurai’s skin. You are a brave man, Yamakage Rakurai, to trust me with your name. Such bravery shall not go unrewarded. Again, Rakurai felt the smile. My name is Tenzen.

 

 

About the Author 

Jackie Keswick was born behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurring dream of stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She’s worked in a hospital and as the only girl with 52 men on an oil rig, spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally settled in the country of her dreams with her dream team: a husband, a cat, a tandem, a hammer and a laptop.

Jackie loves unexpected reunions and second chances, and men who write their own rules. She blogs about English history and food, has a thing for green eyes, and is a great believer in making up soundtracks for everything, including her characters and the cat.

And she still hasn’t found the place where the bus stops.

For questions and comments, not restricted to green eyes, bus stops or recipes for traditional English food, you can find Jackie Keswick in all the usual places:

 

Social Media Links

Blog/Website   |   Facebook group   |   Facebook page  

Twitter   |   Instagram   |   Newsletter Sign-up

TikTok   |   Patreon

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Spotlight & Excerpt: The Realm of the Vampire Council + Giveaway

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The Vampire’s Angel
The Realm of the Vampire Council Book 1
by Damian Serbu
Genre: M/M Paranormal Romance, Dark Urban Fantasy

 

As Paris devolves into chaos amidst the French Revolution, three lives intertwine.
 
Xavier, a devout priest, struggles to hold on to his trust in humanity only to find his own faith threatened with the longing he finds for a mysterious American visitor. Thomas fights against the Catholic Church to win Xavier’s heart, but hiding his undead nature will threaten the love he longs to find with this abbé. Xavier’s sister, Catherine, works with Thomas to bring them together while protecting the family fortune but falls prey herself to evil forces.
 
The death, peril, and catastrophes of a revolution collide with a world of magic, vampires, and personal demons as Xavier, Thomas, and Catherine fight to find peace and love amidst the destruction.
 
 
Thomas walked back to Paris after Anne pushed him out the door. Of course she was right. If he planned on eternity with Xavier, waiting for even a couple of years meant little. The only risk was Xavier’s mortal safety, but Thomas could protect him.
Still, he hated that Xavier fought his true nature, and despite the peace within him, his passion against the church intensified. Against his better judgment (he heard Anthony scolding him in his head), he headed for the Seine and the glorious Notre Dame Cathedral. It took no effort to locate the bishop. He scaled a wall, opened a window, and seated himself on the end of a bed. The figure at its head slept soundly so Thomas wiggled the mattress.
The man woke and screamed in terror. With superhuman haste, Thomas covered his mouth and ordered him to stop. “I won’t kill you if you obey,” he said. He let go of the bishop, who cowered under his sheet.
“We need to chat.” Thomas got up and walked around, taking in the room’s opulence: the expensive furniture, the ornate china left from dinner, the silk vestments, all the finery that one would find in the homes of Paris’s elite. He compared it to the sparse conditions of Xavier’s room: the blank walls and broken desk. Thomas ran his hand along the crucifix, mocking its inability to protect the allegedly holy man. After a grand pause, he turned back to the bishop.
“I know I woke you and it’s late, but I didn’t think that you’d accept my request for a visit.”
“What do you want? Take anything.” The bishop’s voice shook.
“Do I look like a common thief?” Thomas waved his hand at his own expensive clothing. “You and I have other business.” He took a seat on the bed next to the quivering man and ran his fingers along the wrinkled cheek, delighting in the bishop’s terror.
“It’s about a mutual friend. But I warn you, our friend has no idea I’m doing this. If you utter one word to him, I’ll break your neck. The same will happen if you speak of this to any other soul or seek retribution. Agreed?”
The man nodded, hands trembling on the sheet.
“I need you to write a letter of retraction regarding the things you’ve said about Abbé Saint-Laurent. You must admit you were incorrect and commend him for his fine work.”
“He defies the laws of the church.”
“That’s not why you harass him,” Thomas said, leaning forward, tone dangerous. “I couldn’t understand it before I saw you. Why would someone insult a priest who serves a parish few others would even enter? You tried to seduce Xavier and he rebuked you.”
The bishop’s pallor faded even more at Thomas’s words. “I don’t know what—”
Thomas nestled up to the man, put his face nearby, and massaged his leg. Though Thomas glared, the bishop refused to look at him. Thomas blew into his ear and then grabbed his genitals.
After a second, he released them and jumped off the bed. “Still want to deny it, Father?”
By now, the bishop was weeping as he shivered. Thomas marched to a desk, snatched a parchment, and thrust it at him. The bishop obeyed every command. He wrote three letters: one for his official files, one to the Vatican, and one to Xavier, apologizing for his mistaken condemnations and instead praising the young priest for exemplary service. Thomas took them when he had finished, sealed them with the bishop’s emblem, and slid them into his coat pocket.
“You have what you want. Leave me,” the bishop said.
“Do you understand what I mean to do if this isn’t the end of it?”
“Go away. You’ve won.”
Unconvinced that the bishop grasped the severity of his threat, Thomas grabbed the foot of the bed and broke it from its hinges. The mattress crashed to the floor and the bishop rolled to Thomas’s feet. He cried and quaked anew. Thomas reached with a swift motion and broke the man’s little finger. As the man howled in pain, Thomas smashed through the window and jumped two stories to the ground.
Now, to celebrate. Time for a kill.
As usual, people crowded the bars and drank, gambled, had public sex, and railed against Louis. The tawdry scene would produce a worthy victim or two. Thomas entered an establishment and took a seat. Nothing unusual caught his eye. No one longed for his fangs to end an unseemly life, until he heard a familiar voice. He turned, slowly, and saw Marcel seated nearby and talking to the likes of whom Thomas never wanted to even touch. They stank of men hired for dirty, illicit, and violent tasks.
There was a group of worthy victims. He could kill all of them, including Marcel, and rid himself of a major problem. Then Thomas remembered those damn ethical guidelines Anthony pronounced: never meddle in human affairs. Killing Marcel, even in a vial setting, violated that principle. And he had already gone too far in violating the ethic with his visit to Notre Dame. But that logic seemed faulty, until he recalled his conversation with Marcel. What if the demon placed some spell on Xavier to protect himself if Thomas came after him? Was such a thing possible? Thomas had no idea what to do.
Frustrated, Thomas listened.
“You’re fine gentlemen, as always,” Marcel was saying. “I hardly believe you dispatched that customer so fast and without a mess. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf—”
“Enough talk, old man, get to the point,” said one of the men. His breath hit Thomas from two tables away, stinking of tobacco, rum, and a gross assortment of decay.
“Don’t take that tone with me. I have a spying assignment, to watch two men. I need to know their patterns, their friends, and their beliefs. Discover any weaknesses, any material for blackmail, anything they conceal. Try to find out where they keep their money and when they sleep. I must know anything and everything about both of them. Monitor the two Saint-Laurents. One of you watch Michel, the other take Xavier.”
“How long do you want us to do this? It’ll cost you,” the other added.
“I’m well aware of your prices, and believe me, this is worth the cost. I’ll expect a weekly report. One more thing. Never go near their sister. When they visit her, walk away.”
Marcel described Michel and told them where to find him and Thomas pictured the route to Xavier’s church as Marcel gave it to the other man, depicting him, as well.
Thomas let Marcel leave, against his better judgment, as the rules haunted him and his magic concerned him. He followed the other two, however. He sensed enough to know that killing them would not violate the ethic, at least not as much as if he had gone after Marcel. These two had never met anyone from the family, so Thomas decided they stood outside the ethic’s prohibitions. They walked a few blocks, singing drunken songs, proud of Marcel’s coins and then entered a salon with rooms for rent. Thomas stayed close behind when they entered their room. He waited a few seconds and then burst in as they counted their money.
In a complete fury, he first grabbed the one intended to spy on Xavier. He almost failed to notice the terror on his face as he crushed the man’s skull between his hands. He paused as the cranium crunched like a seashell and gore exploded all over the room. He dropped the corpse and swore under his breath. He’d waited too long. The second man had escaped the room, and his screaming brought other patrons into the hall to see about the commotion. Thomas kicked the dead body before he swiftly went into the hall and vacated the building. He could not risk going after the remaining man as he stood among all these onlookers. Instead, he went to feed, once again hungry for blood after several nights of depriving himself.

 

The Vampire’s Quest
The Realm of the Vampire Council Book 2

 

The Vampire’s Quest brings back the beloved gay vampires, Xavier and Thomas, in the anticipated sequel to The Vampire’s Angel.
 
In 1822, the Archangel St. Michel orders Xavier to go on a quest to America, a quest that violates the Vampire Council’s laws to the point of a possible death sentence. Worse, Xavier must abandon his lover, Thomas. Xavier runs to his aging sister and pleads for Catherine’s help as Thomas races after them. With Thomas and the Vampire Council vying for Xavier’s soul, Xavier and Catherine struggle to obey the former priest’s divine calling before their inevitable capture.
 
 

 

The Vampire’s Protege
A Realm of the Vampire Council Novel

 

A sinister vampire offers Charon a choice he can’t refuse: play a deadly game of winner takes all, losers die.
 
Charon relishes the competition and molds himself into a sexy vampire who defies vampire law, savoring his power and embracing the role of villain. He also loves surrounding himself with hot young men. But when an alluring vampire stalks him and threatens to turn him into the Vampire Council unless he helps with a seemingly impossible task, will Charon risk his perfectly narcissistic life on the challenge? Does he have any other choice?
 
 

 

The Bachmann Family Secret
A Realm of the Vampire Council Companion Novel

 

Jaret Bachmann travels with his family to his beloved grandfather’s funeral with a heavy heart and, more troubling, premonitions of something evil lurking at the Bachmann ancestral home. But no one believes that he sees ghosts.
 
Grappling with his sexuality, a ghost that wants him out of the way, and the loss of his grandfather, Jaret must protect his family and come to terms with powers hidden deep within himself.
 
 

 

The Vampire’s Witch
The Realm of the Vampire Council Book 3

 

The Vampire’s Witch welcomes readers back to the world of vampires, witches, and magic.

Jaret Bachmann’s life spins out of control after a handsome stranger saves him from an attack along the bike path on Lakeshore Drive. His estranged high school sweetheart stalks him, the enraged ghost of his ancestor destroys his family, and his bike path savior-cum-lover abandons him after learning Jaret is a powerful witch, all of it sending Jaret into deep depression. Struggling to find his way afterward, Jaret searches for comfort in the unlikely friendship of a secret vampire community.

Xavier, Thomas, Anthony, and Catherine return in this, the third book in The Realm of the Vampire Council series and a sequel to The Bachmann Family Secret. Over time, Jaret’s friendship with the vampires strengthens and he forges a new family connection with Xavier, Thomas, and Catherine.  But he and Anthony are estranged and though their souls are entwined, there hearts are another matter.

 

Damian Serbu lives in the Chicago area with his husband and two dogs, Akasha and Chewbacca. The dogs control his life, tell him what to write, and threaten to eat him in the middle of the night if he disobeys. He has published several gay horror/romance/humorous books with NineStar Press. Keep up to date with him on Facebook, Twitter, or at www.DamianSerbu.com.
 
 

 

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ebook copy of Santa’s Kinky Elf, Simon
– 1 winner each

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