Book Blitz & Excerpt: Violent Beginnings + Giveaway

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Violent Beginnings
C. Hallman & J.L. Beck
Publication date: November 28th 2020
Genres: Adult, Dark Romance, Romance

The deal was sealed the moment she stepped onto that stage.

It was like seeing a ghost. Sunshine blonde hair, pale skin, and azure blue eyes that held a thousand secrets.

I didn’t know what caused her to end up on that auction block.
And I didn’t care either.

All I knew was that I had to have her…no matter the cost.

One-million dollars later and she became just that.

Mine to break.
Mine to use.
Mine to keep.

But we all have secrets and when I discover hers no one will be able to save her from me.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

“What’s your name?” I ask after we’ve been driving for a few minutes.

“Fallon,” she whispers, almost inaudible.

“I already know that. What’s your last name?”

I need to make sure she’s not related to Victoria before I let this go any further.

“Brice,” she says hesitantly.

Brice… I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. I’ve never heard of anyone by that last name before, but I’ll still have someone look into her when we get to the safe house. I have to be sure. I know just the person to do that.

Although, I’m sure my brother will not be happy that I’m contacting him for a favor.

I think further on questions I should ask her like this is a fucking date, and I didn’t just pay one million dollars for her body.

“Where are you from, Fallon?”

“Sun Valley.” She doesn’t offer any more than the bare minimum.

“Have you always lived there?”

“Yes.” A second passes, and then she asks the question that dooms both of us. “What are you going to do to me?”

Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, I grit my teeth and answer her truthfully.

“I don’t know yet.”

I just don’t fucking know…

Violent Beginnings

Author Bio:

J.L. Beck is a USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR, she has written over fifty different romance novels. She started her journey of writing back in 2014 and hasn’t slowed down a second since then.

She’s captivated by real romance, and loves reading about strong “ALPHA” males, as well as sassy heroines that know or may not know what they want. She is best known for delivering a happily ever after but has ended things on a cliffhanger a time or two.

When she’s not typing away at her next book you can find her being a mom to her two adorable kiddos and wife to her high school sweetheart.

She’s obsessed with Starbucks, social media, and is definitely more of a dog person than cat.

Author links:
Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

Born and raised in Germany, Cassandra moved to the United States when she was eighteen. She always had a love for reading, that love slowly transpired into writing. She put fingers to the keyboard and started writing about the dark side of romance.

Cassandra is one half of the international bestselling author duo Beck & Hallman, who are most knows for the writing the Northwood University series.
The pair also write under the pen name Jenna Reed.

Author links:
Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Bookbub / Instagram

 

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Spotlight: Handled + Excerpt

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Book Title: Handled: A dark gay romance

Author: Romilly King

Publisher: Self-Published

Release Date: October 29, 2020

Genre: Dark M/M Romance

Themes: justice, retribution, and unsuitable love

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length:  175 pages

Trigger warning:  violence, mentions of suicide, and torture.

It’s a happy for now not a happy ever after, as there are two further books in the series.

Goodreads

Blurb

Serial killers think if it all goes south and they finally get caught that their swan song is a day in court, making the families relive the agony while they get off on that delicious pain, all over again. 

Not happening.  Not anymore.  We’re not making celebrities out of monsters.  We’re not giving them a stage to strut on.

Now they get an audience of two.

One to Handle the problem, one to Witness it.

I’m a Witness. I trained for six years to do my duty, to manage my contracted killer, and to watch justice be done.

I knew it would be hard, the first time, to watch the eye for an eye moment.

I expected to feel a lot of things – fear, disgust, guilt.

I didn’t expect to feel turned on.

And I didn’t expect my contracted killer to look quite so pretty with blood on his hands.

HANDLED is a dark gay romance with themes of justice, retribution, and unsuitable love. It is not for the faint of heart and contains graphic scenes intended for an adult audience. 

Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  

Excerpt 

Chapter One

Gray

I wake no less irritated than when I went to sleep. Frustration and arousal are rolling at a low level simmer in my brain and my body. I should have sought a release but I couldn’t make my mind up if I needed to hurt, or be hurt.

Normally I know exactly what I want.

Watching the kill turned me on, it always does, there was pain involved, and although I was fifteen feet away I could feel it, smell it, almost taste it as the wire of the garotte carved through the dirty skin of the neck.

It was the laziness of the killer that confused my arousal though. He was sloppy, his victim was random, there was no finesse anywhere, no evolution in technique, no learning or adapting.

The pain on the victims face had caused a jerk in my limbic system, my cock going half hard, my blood sluggishly stirring, but the lacklustre carry through from the killer snuffed my rising hormones.

I know I will be a lot harder when I kill him.

The pleasure will last a lot longer.

The best I can say about last night’s kill was that it was quick. Which was a blessing for the victim.

It was the second time I had seen this killer perform, and the previous operation had been no more inspiring than this one.

I roll out of bed, I have time for a shower before watching the congressional committee do their annual rehashing of old issues before failing to find a way out of their ethical conundrum.

It is essential viewing, it gives me insight into which way the wind is blowing on Capitol Hill with regard to my employment and more than that, my existence.

Chances are the wind will still be gusting in my direction. The public remains fascinated and frequently aroused by people like me, but reluctant to face the unpalatable truth that the human genome throws us up for a reason, and that reason is survival.

Apart from that it’s always amusing to watch the Director deliver this year’s version of his you can’t handle the truth monologue.

Under the warm water of the shower I feel again the urge to give into the sexual side of my issues but it’s not worth it. It won’t assuage the itch, and I still can’t decide, hurt me or hurt someone else.

Sometimes, when the disconnect is bad, I look down at my body and I am surprised, because it isn’t what I expect to see. I see smooth lean muscle and length when what I expect to see is skinny and short and dirty, with old blood on the backs of my legs, grime ground into too pale skin, and my ribs like a toast rack.

The curling arousal makes it worse. I need to kill or this vision of me becomes the more prevalent one, and that isn’t helpful, it takes the confidence away.

I don’t have bad memories per se, I just had my evolution forced, and so the real me, the me now, it sometimes regresses, and if I look in the mirror I see both of us, one standing inside the other. The grown Handler and the tortured child.

Once I get my new Witness and handle this killer it will be so much clearer, and then I can take my release with clarity and passion.

Rubbing my hair dry I walk naked into the bedroom and flick on the tv. The committee is coming to order, the Director adjusting his microphone smoothly on the desk in front of him – I honestly don’t know how he has the patience for this, but then we have different mentalities. His various assistants

are congregated behind him looking like a row of funeral directors, which is essentially what they are – all dark shiny graduates of the Witness program.

It would be nice if one of them was assigned to me, preferably one that I won’t want to kill within the first half hour, and then we can get the show back on the road and I can finally let the curling, aching need in me find its path to completion.

 

About the Author

 

Romilly is queer.  Romilly wakes up every morning and decides which (witch) to be. 

Some days Romilly is an Imp, some days a Fairy, some days a Stoic, and some days a Gladiator.   Romilly has a classical education, a filthy mouth and loves OTK spankings and strong Sirs who give love and punishment in equal measure.  

Romilly is also very shy but makes every effort to engage with people from all walks of life and likes making friends and meeting fans on social media.

Author Links

Blog/Website  |  Twitter

 

 

 

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Book Blitz: Saving Bonnie + Giveaway

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Saving Bonnie: A Dark Mafia Romance
Sahara Roberts
(Blood Ties, #2)
Publication date: November 17th 2020
Genres: Adult, Dark Romance

I live by three rules.
Don’t trust anyone
Don’t get involved in other people’s shit.
Don’t get tangled up with a woman.
The day I met her, I broke all three.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Google Play

INSTA_Saving_Bonnie

EXCERPT:

Tino

Lightning streaks across the night sky, illuminating a nervous face at the café across the street. As the storm continues to turn night into quick flashes of day, his gaze repeatedly darts around, searching for what he can feel but can’t see. He leans over to whisper to his partner before checking again. Fool doesn’t realize the danger isn’t on the street. I’m on the second floor of the church directly in front of him.

“What’ve you got?” Marshal Cord Marson’s voice comes across the radio.

“Burglary in progress,” his partner, Frank, replies from a car parked a block away. “Two males, mid-twenties.”

Burglars. Fumbling around in the dark, giving away their presence with every move. The skinny one moves like he’s got some experience. The heavy guy still has his cherry.

“Hold position.” Law enforcement, always dealing with nonessentials.

“What the hell, Tino?” Frank barks over the radio. “These guys are about to break into the café.”

“Aww, shit,” Cord cuts in. “What’s the status, Frank?”

“Suspects checked the door and windows. Now they’re in front of the gate, trying to look inconspicuous. Gonna wait for one to go over the fence so I can move in,” Frank reports.

“I’m on my way.” Cord’s voice comes across, a slight huff breaking his words. He’s already on the move.

“Hold. Your. Position,” I order.

“Criminal or fugitive apprehension is one of the most dangerous parts of law enforcement,” Cord starts.

Spoken like a true marshal.

“One man can’t—” Cord continues.

In the years I hunted men, tracking those who carried out atrocities, I always hunted alone. Partners get in the way, chatter creates distraction, and there’s always a clash for position. Cord thinks I’ll get involved in apprehension—this is exactly why he’s sitting on the south side of town. He’s better off watching the apartment where Conrado Villa’s buddy lives while we look out for his mother at Bomberos Café.

I’m not used to working with law, at least not honest law. With their nonstop chatter, to “keep things lively,” I’m ready to cut them both loose.

“Hold on, man,” Frank interrupts while the skinny guy goes over the three-foot fence, nearly losing his pants as he lands. The heavier one uses the chain-link as footholds and gets his shoe stuck. Hanging on the fence creates enough pressure to lift the latch, letting the gate open. Just then, Skinny realizes the gate isn’t locked.

Damn stupid criminals. Still, I can’t complain. If they weren’t so common, high-end services like the one I work for wouldn’t exist.

Frank scoffs into the radio. “I think we’re good.”

Suuure.” Cord’s got that note in his voice that makes me want to punch him. “What’s a little B&E among friends, right?”

This stakeout is a test of my patience. If it weren’t for Dante, I’d do the world a favor and get rid of this asshole. Three days of his shit. I should put in for sainthood! If God existed, I’d believe he was fucking with me, I muse while lying in the balcony of the Catholic church across the street from the café. Thanks to a “generous donation,” the area has been blocked off, so I can stay hidden while waiting. Intel has Olga Villa coming by at least once or twice a week, but so far, she’s a no-show.

“Building’s empty,” I remind them. Bonnie Bustos, or Bunny, as Iris and Dante call her, is out. She’s not due back for at least a couple of hours. “They’re gonna head toward Frank. He can stop ’em then.” Though Frank’s got a badge, he understands what goes on at the border and why we do the things we do. “Just don’t fuck with my stakeout.”

Yes, sir, sir,” Cord replies with condescension.

Great. Now I’ll have to deal with Cord being an asshole for hours.

“You call if you need a hand, bud.” The last part is obviously not for me.

“Nah, they’re punks,” Frank adds, dismissing the offer. “Shouldn’t need more than a Taser.”

“Great. Don’t want Ms. Bonnie Boo-hooin’ if they take anything.”

The first inklings of exasperation hit me. I’ve spent three days listening to his bullshit about Bonnie. He’s been playing up her name way past the joke dying. It started with Busty then Busty’s got back. Frank had to tell him her name’s pronounced boo-stows. So he started on Bonnie Boo, needing a boo, and now he graduated to Busty’s got boo-ty. Not that the guy’s wrong—on any account. Just the sight of the woman will remind any man he’s alive.

Though if he figures out she goes by Bunny and starts on that, I’m going to kill him.

A light suddenly stretches along the ground like a beacon in the pitch-black night. Dumb and dumber must have gotten through the door.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I have half a mind to ignore it, but Frank may want to go offline. Reaching for it, I pull the screen around to see who’s on the line. Kassy, our IT and security specialist. Frowning, I hit the home button.

“You all right?” she asks, getting straight to the point.

“Yeah.” I check the area again, in case I missed something. “Why?”

“Montoya got one of his vibes, and—”

“Oh-oh,” Frank exaggerates the syllables. What the hell is going on now? “We got a problem,” he confirms.

Gathering patience, I force a question between clenched teeth. “What?”

“She’s back.” Grabbing the binoculars, I focus on the car coming in at the end of the street. Sure enough, the electric-blue Mini Cooper has a damn Uber sticker on the windshield.

It’s times like this where Montoya disturbs my goddamn calm. How the hell can Dante’s business partner be ahead of us when he’s on the ranch a couple hundred miles away?

“I have movement,” Frank announces. “They left a lookout in the car. Guy’s on the phone, likely giving a heads-up.”

The Uber stops in front of the café, and the driver fully turns in his seat. The door opens, and a pair of white, high-heeled sandals pops out above the door, held by Miss Bonnie herself. White ruffled top, little peach shorts that hug her ass, and some lime-green foam sandals they use for pedicures.

Goddammit.

The fucking driver takes his time pulling away, checking his mirrors for one last look at Miss Bustos’s assets. Fuck if I don’t want to just go push the car down the street on my own.

“What’s happening?” Kassy whispers.

“Two guys in the building, and she’s back early.”

“Oh damn. Why is she early?” Her nails do a rapid-fire tap across the keyboard then come to a sudden stop. “Baka! Forgot, there’s no security system. I’m blind,” she finishes, sounding helpless. Kassy did the research on Bonnie. Every Sunday, Bonnie takes an Uber to her mom’s house, coming home after ten o’clock. For whatever reason, she chooses today to break routine.

“So what are we doing?” Frank drops a tangled mess on my shoulders.

I don’t break protocol—ever. It’s kept me alive, and from being discovered, for all these years.

A shadow of unease settles over me, driving me to check on Miss Bonnie. She’s Iris’s best friend, practically a sister. And Iris, one of the few people I give a damn about, lost her mother and still has to deal with her missing father. Not sure how she’ll take losing someone else, especially when I could prevent it. Instinct kicks in as I spring up, turn on my heel, and fly down the stairs then jump across to the next landing.

“Got your back.” Frank’s voice comes in low and meaningful. I know I can count on him to watch what he says around Cord.

I’m breaking cover. If this goes wrong, neither of them can be involved. I jam the earbud in as I bust through the door and streak across the street. “May need you.”

“Got ya,” Kassy gives a curt acknowledgment as a disgruntled cat complains in the background.

I grip the top bar and kick off of the body of the fence. Redirecting my momentum, I’m in the air, hurdling the fence. Gravel. Unexpected, but I stick the landing, and I’m clear. Drizzle starts to fall. Perfect, what else can go wrong? Hopefully, with the rain, anyone in the area will decide to stay in tonight. If not, Frank’s gonna have to step up for as long as he can.

“Maybe they’ll hear her and run off,” Kassy suggests hopefully.

I dash along the side of the building, through the parking area, but somehow I know that isn’t gonna happen. The closer I get, the more my gut is screaming at me that things are gonna go sideways.

I sidle along the edge of the kitchen, blending into the darkness, and peer into the corner of the window. The jerkoffs are across the building, in the dining area, facing me. Bonnie’s in the kitchen, frozen in place as Skinny raises a Beretta nine mil, by the looks of it. “Never killed anyone before.” He grins and looks Bunny over as if he’s got a prize coming.

“Call maintenance,” I mutter to Kassy. “I’m going to work.”

Author Bio:

Sahara Roberts caught the writing bug early in life. She enjoys writing Dark Romance and Romantic Suspense. Her days are filled with international trade issues (the legal kind) and her evenings writing steamy romance.

She is currently working on Blood Ties, a Dark Mafia Romance series, along with a Contemporary Romance series due out in 2021.

When she’s not at her usual hangout, Savvy Authors, she enjoys socializing on Facebook and Instagram or watching The Blacklist, Pure, and My Hero Academia.

Sahara lives in South Texas with her beloved husband and their three furry overlords. She enjoys cooking, baking, and cake decorating, but she would certainly prefer to have someone else do the dishes.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

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