Book Blitz & Excerpt: The Ruins + Giveaway

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The Ruins

Demon Entanglements Book 6

by Torri Heat

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

Published by Changeling Press


Joelle’s a mess. Nightmares about the end of the world keep her up at night, and lack of sleep has her losing job after job.

The only consistency to these dreams is the man she calls “The Watcher.” After another night of frustration, The Watcher arrives at her door, in the flesh. Luc, a demon Mare, is the source of all her problems.

Could he also be her salvation?

Praise for The Ruins (Demon Entanglements)

“I found this to be an interesting and fresh paranormal story… refreshingly different and full of good imagination. Luc is known as a Mare – a sub-set of demon who sends and controls nightmares. I found this and the plotline surrounding Joelle and her long-standing nightmares of the world literally burning around her and herself unable to help anyone really different and interesting. I feel readers who enjoy paranormal-based stories, especially erotic and explicit ones, should find this a lovely breath of fresh air.”

— Fern, Long and Short Reviews

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demonentanglements - excerpt


I woke up from the dream that’s been plaguing me for months. The one where the world was burning. I watched the town I had grown up in crumble to dust around me, and the taste of death was thick in my mouth. People turned to ash as I reached out to save them and blew into the wind as if their bodies had never existed. As hard as I tried, I could never save them. Nothing I did made a difference. I would look for water, but a small bucketful seemed pitiful against the raging flames. I would offer myself up to some unseen god, hoping my sacrifice might save another. But as in most dreams, I was powerless.

Sometimes I doubted if these visions were dreams at all. When I woke up in the dead of night, damp with sweat and out of breath, I swore I could see the golden tones of a blaze outside my window. I would have put money on the fact I could feel the heat licking my face, gentle as a lover’s touch. The world I was seeing in front of me felt so real — so condemning. Less like a dream, and more like a warning.

But no matter what I did, as hard as I tried, the end was always the same. The small town burned to nothing, and the people disappeared. The same disaster, night after night. The only other constant was the man in my dreams. The one who stood on the other side of the flames, always staring at me. Watching carefully. But his perfect lips never uttered a word of advice, and he never moved his rugged hands to offer help. He seemed to exist outside of whatever was happening in my dreams, this figment of my imagination. He never burned, and I never got close enough to see if he would turn to ash with my touch. He just watched.

That’s what I called him when I described him to my therapist — the watcher. Overseeing me, my dreams, my nightmares, my failures. Handsome, but the kind of beautiful that could cut you like a knife. Like an artist forgot to soften the edges. Messy blond hair ruffled in the winds of the world burning around us. His dark, foreboding eyes felt like they were staring into my soul and evaluating every decision I made. The watcher was tall, and a formidable sight amongst the destruction. But I couldn’t figure out if he was watching me try to save the world, or watching me as I destroyed it.

He was the only person in my dreams I didn’t know, which made him stand out. I convinced myself it wasn’t his haunting beauty drawing me back time and time again. And like every other night, the watcher had been there. Watching as I tried to save a childhood friend, and the plump owner of the bakery down the road from my small apartment. What woke me up wasn’t the warmth of the flames that lingered in my memory. It was the slight downturn of his full lips as I screamed in frustration when everyone crumbled in my hands yet again. He never had any expression on his face before. But tonight was different. Tonight, the watcher had frowned.

I sighed heavily and rolled over in my bed to switch on my bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a gentle light. I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to remember if anything else had been different. If there was anything else I needed to write down for Dr. Tanya.

“Once you start to notice the differences in each dream, you’ll be able to take the control back,” she had told me at my last appointment. I wasn’t sure.

Control was currently a limited commodity in my life. I swung my legs out of bed, watching the blinking clock on my table flash a time way too early to be awake. I flipped on lights as I made my way into the kitchen, pouring an ice-cold glass of water and forcing myself to drink the whole thing before I let the thoughts overwhelm me. The anxieties. The need to do more. I slammed the glass down next to a stack of bills, all angrily stamped with “Final Warning” in a shade of red that hurt my eyes.

This was what my life had come to. I had wanted more. Wanted adventure, to feel alive.

Torri Heat has always loved control. Her mind was blown when she discovered she could control entire worlds through story writing. Throw some steamy romance in there, and it was pretty close to perfection. Torri loves dark heroes who ride off into the sunset on their motorcycles, fierce heroines who can fend for themselves, and a sprinkle of the paranormal to keep things interesting. When she’s not creating alternate realities you can find her managing her three ring circus of kids and animals.

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: A Curse of Nightshade + Giveaway

A Curse of Nightshade
by Amber Lynn Natusch

Witches of the Gilded Lilies

Paranormal Romance


Publication Date
October 8, 2021

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I made a deal with a devil once, and it cost me all but a shred of my soul.

Now, cornered in an alley by a sexy, silver-tongued demon who wants something other than my final tie to existence, I’m faced with a choice.

Since escaping the demonic realm six months ago, I’ve honed my skills and my rage hunting the craven evils of New York City alongside the witches who saved me. Vigilantes, they call us. Cold-hearted killers. Monsters of the night. If only they knew how true that was—what our pasts have shaped us to be.

Mine forged me into the most powerful Daughter of Fire ever, which is exactly what this hell-spawned charmer claims he needs to kill the demon who stole my soul. Together, Zen insists, we can share in revenge–but on one condition. I must bind myself to him, an unthinkable deed with deadly ramifications at best. He’s playing every beguiling card in his deck to lure me in, but I’m no fool. He may be the enemy of my enemy, but he’s still a demon.

And I won’t make that mistake again.

A CURSE OF NIGHTSHADE, the first paranormal romance novel in the Witches of the Gilded Lilies series by USA Today bestselling author Amber Lynn Natusch. Each book in this series follows a different hero and heroine with each story playing into the series story arc.

Promo Graphic - Witches of the Gilded Lilies 1.0 - A Curse of Nightshade by Amber Lynn Natusch - 2


A fierce, biting wind jostled me awake, and I wondered if hell wasn’t truly hot at all—if instead it was a frigid wasteland where I would spend eternity. But even through bleary vision, I could see that something was wrong. A bustling street filled with horses and carriages and tall buildings on the other side stretched out before me. Even in the faint glow of the gaslights, my russet-brown eyes burned, and I shielded them with my arm as I tried to block out the punishing noise surrounding me. The clomp of horse and carriage, the din of unfamiliar voices, and the squeal of police whistles stunned and overwhelmed me, and I steadied myself with deep breaths, though the tang of the air made that hard.

Confusion, then panic coursed through me as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. If I was not in hell, where in the hell was I?

I fought against my weakened limbs and pushed myself up to sit in the shadows, pressed against the brick wall at my back, but the foul stench of rot and manure assaulted me, nearly knocking me down again. As my eyes focused, I realized that I was tucked away in a building’s alcove. No one rushing by seemed to notice me, and for a moment, I wondered if I was invisible—if I was a ghost.

That theory seemed easy enough to test, so I tried to stand and walk out into the street; but my legs gave way, and I crashed to the stone beneath me in a lump. My hand shot out to brace my fall and struck a weathered wooden door to my right. Moments later, it flew open. A nun, dressed in a black habit, poked her head out to see who had knocked. Her wrinkled face turned as she searched the street before her, her rheumy eyes finding nothing. Then her gaze fell upon me, slumped against the wall, and she gasped, then backed into the building.

Not a ghost, then…

As I tried to stand again, another figure stepped out to join me in the alcove: a stunning, chestnut-haired woman with dainty features, dressed in silken finery. She could have been an angel if it hadn’t been for her lack of wings. She extended a gloved hand to me, but I didn’t take it.

“You need not fear me, Oleander.”

“How do you—”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she continued with a smile. “We all have. Won’t you please come inside and join us? We have much work to do.”

Before I realized it, I was on my feet, ready to follow her, but the bite of jagged brick against my palm as I leaned on the wall for support helped clear my head. “Who are you?” My dry throat made my voice so hoarse that I could barely be heard.

“My name is Ivy Foxglove.”

A deadly flower… just like me…

“How am I here?” I wondered aloud.

Her damn smile widened. “Would you like to come meet the others?” she asked, as though she already knew the answer. A little breeze swept into the alcove, nudging me forward a step.

I dug my fingers into the cracks in the façade and held on for dear life. “The other who?”

Her head canted to the side and she looked at me with a quizzical expression, as though the fact that I had no idea what was going on had just occurred to her. “Why, the other Lilies, of course. Your sister witches.” Her voice wrapped around me like a blanket, comforting me. “Now come,” she said, motioning for me to follow, “you’ll catch your death of cold if you stay out here all night.”

“But I am dead,” I replied, my voice as empty and hollow as my soulless chest.

She turned to assess me like I’d taken leave of my senses. “You are most certainly not dead. Wherever would you get such a strange idea?”

“The demon—”

“Shh!” The harsh sound of her attempt to silence me was in stark contrast to her previous gentle demeanor, as were her firm hands on my shoulders as she hauled me inside the building. She leaned in close, pinning me to the door as she shut it. A warning niggled at the back of my weary mind, but Ivy’s voice silenced it in a second. “There will be no talk of such things in this place, do you understand?” Though I didn’t, I nodded anyway. She brushed my sweat-soaked black hair from my face and straightened my soiled shirt on my shoulders. “You are tired and confused, which makes sense given where I can only assume you’ve just come from, but this world does not know of such things and therefore must be protected—which is precisely why we summoned you.”

She took my hand in hers as she stalked through the stone building that reeked of frankincense and was filled with crosses and statues and tapestries, each depicting Mary or Jesus or some saint I couldn’t identify because I’d never bothered to learn. She moved with the grace of a predator, smiling and waving to the nuns as she passed, but Ivy was clearly no nun. Her use of the word ‘witch’ spoke to that fact.

She prattled on about ‘the others’ as she turned a corner leading to a narrow spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. My exhaustion and hunger knew no bounds by that point, and my mind struggled to process her words as I stumbled to keep pace. We rounded the final steps to a wash of firelight, illuminating a massive library filled with walls of books. She strode to the far wall and pulled one free. The bookcase moved, exposing a room with a large wooden table covered with bowls and jars and things I couldn’t place, more shelves of books, and in the middle of it all, sprawled on a sofa and a chaise, three women of various ages staring back at me.

“Lilies!” Ivy called as she drew me into the room. “Our Daughter of Fire is finally here. We are now complete!” Their eyes raked over me as I stood before them, addled and ready to collapse. Then Ivy turned her warm green gaze to me. “Oleander Nightshade…welcome to the guild.”

Celebration Giveaway

To celebrate the release of A CURSE OF NIGHTSHADE by Amber Lynn Natusch, we’re giving away a $100 Amazon gift card!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS: Open internationally. One winner will receive a $100 Amazon gift card. This giveaway is administered by BookMojo on behalf of Amber Lynn Natusch. Giveaway ends 11/30/2020 @ 11:59pm EST. BookMojo will deliver the prize to the winner shortly thereafter.


About the Author

AMBER LYNN NATUSCH is the author of the bestselling Caged series for adults. She was born and raised in Winnipeg, and is still deeply attached to her Canadian roots. She loves to dance and practice Muay Thai―but spends most of her time running a chiropractic practice with her husband, raising two young children, and attempting to write when she can lock herself in the bathroom for ten minutes of peace. Dare You to Lie is her debut YA novel with Tor Teen.

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: The Devil’s Necromancer + Giveaway

The Devils Necromancer Blitz Banner

The Devil’s Necromancer
by Alexa Piper
(Hellbound, #1)
Published by: Changeling Press
Publication date: October 8th 2021
Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Urban Fantasy

Lionel, a necromancer and consultant for the Brunswick Police Department, wants nothing to do with immortals. Specifically, he wants nothing to do with Lucifer, who shows up on his doorstep one day with a ridiculous proposal. Lucifer, also known as the Devil, wants Lionel to be his pretend boyfriend. Except the pretend part is something the Devil doesn’t really seem to care for.

Lucifer has read enough romance novels to know that a good dose of forced proximity might be just the thing to get the stubborn necromancer he desires into his bed. The Devil’s plans are soon complicated when Lionel proves more uncooperative and oblivious to love than Lucifer could ever anticipate.

While the Devil wants to claim Lionel, all Lionel wants is to get away from Lucifer. Meanwhile, magic users are being murdered in the city. Lionel cannot escape the implications of those murders for long, and the case soon takes a different turn. Will Lionel be able to escape the Devil’s thrall, or will the necromancer fall for the immortal seducer?

Publisher’s Note: The Devil’s Necromancer contains scenes involving dubious consent that some readers may find offensive.

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It was past midnight, and the stars that looked like sprinkles of white chocolate in the velvety dark night sky were overshadowed by the city lights and the waxing moon. I lay on the embankment, North Bridge’s metal frame rising just to my right and further hiding the chocolate sprinkle stars. My feet were wet, but I didn’t mind, not the embankment or the wet feet or the stars melting away in the light and the artificial structures around me. The zombie was oozing all over me from its — his — caved-in skull, and I did mind that. Zombie ooze was a bitch to get out of clothes, even if I’d given up on wearing colors years ago. Black simply was the safest bet for a necromancer.

Zombies reeked when they weren’t really fresh, and this one was ripe — fish-market-in-the-summer-heat-three-days-after-closing ripe. I looked up and considered my life choices, all of which had led me here.

“Do you need CPR?” someone said. It was a warm, manly voice, and I was reasonably sure it could make chocolate melt, star-shaped or otherwise.

I stuffed my self-pity away and turned my head to get a better look at the speaker. He was as handsome as a devil, with skin that looked like marble in the glow of the city at night. His hair shimmered liquid black, but it might have been some shade of brown in proper lighting. It went well past his ears and looked styled with care to get that messy, I just got up out of bed after a night of hard fucking look.

“Why the fuck would I need CPR?” I asked. My voice didn’t sound like I’d just considered crying a moment ago, and I was proud of that.

The guy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with humans. Your kind is so accident prone, and you seem to be having trouble breathing. Or maybe you hit your head? Do you remember how you got here?”

Did he fucking think I was suffering from amnesia or a head injury or something? “I’m having trouble breathing because I have a fucking dead zombie on my chest, asshat,” I said. In my considered necromantic opinion, I was being perfectly polite, even though I couldn’t be sure what kind of creature the guy was. I’d given him a quick glance with my mage sight, and human he was not.

Jeez, I hated gods and otherworldly beings.

“All zombies are dead,” Mr. Sexy said. “It’s a prerequisite. This one seems to have had its brainstem properly destroyed, however.”

“Oh, smarty-pants, thanks a bunch for the lecture. The basics of necromancy have ever escaped me, even after I raised my very first corpse thirteen fucking years ago.” It had been a blackbird that had died when he crashed into a window at my school. I had cradled the poor thing in my hands as it breathed its last, had cried, and that had triggered my necromancer power. Pretty boy did not need to know that. Every other person I’d ever told had made fun of me for it.

“You could have suffered a head injury with amnesia. How am I supposed to know what you know?” He walked toward me. His movements were silent, cat-like, and more elegant than was right. Even despite the zombie oozing out on me, my cock couldn’t quite ignore him. Seriously, though, what was up with his fixation on first aid and amnesia?

He grabbed the zombie by the legs and pulled the dead-dead corpse off me. “Oh. You caved in its skull with a rock,” he said when he saw the murder weapon in question, the goo glistening on its stony surface. Well, it wasn’t really a murder weapon, seeing as how the zombie had been dead, but details. “How traditional.” He held out a hand to me, and I took it and let him pull me back to my feet. “I’m Lucy, by the way. Short for Lucifer, but I prefer Lucy. As in Lucy Westenra, the woman who almost single-handedly turned Dracula into the first reverse harem romance novel ever before she made the wise decision to claim immortality instead. She was such an underrated character, and I really don’t know why people don’t like her more.”

I dusted myself off. Didn’t help with the wet feet or the zombie ooze, which I really only distributed, like soft butter on hot toast. The shirt I was wearing was ruined. Good thing I had a dozen other plain black shirts just like it back home. “Maybe because she fucking ate children.”

He shrugged. “Well, everyone has a craving now and then. No one judges women’s monthly chocolate cravings, and I don’t see how that was so much worse.”

My brain caught up with the conversation. Lucifer? The Lucifer? The fucking Morning Star, seducer of stuffy virgins and lover of apples? I looked at him. Up at him. Asshole was tall and handsome, the kind of guy I could only ever talk to with about three drinks in me. “You’re the Devil? Satan? Beelzebub?”

“Lu-cy,” he said, slowing down as if he was reconsidering the brain damage thing. Even his eyebrows were perfect, which I only noticed because he pulled one of those up, something most people couldn’t do in real life. He could. And he looked hot doing it. Hotter.


Author Bio:

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them.

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