Romance Novel Giveaways

Looking For Lucy by Debbie De Louise 💕 Book Tour and $10 Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Mystery/Thriller)

2026-04-15T00:08:00.095-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

A mystery of illicit affairs, hidden passageways, and family secrets, Looking for Lucy is the perfect read for fans of gothic novels, psychological thrillers, and atmospheric suspense.

She was never meant to be the brave one.

Despite their different personalities, cousins Mary and Lucy are closer than sisters. Mary, a teacher in a small town, fears change and suffers from claustrophobia. Lucy, a thrill-seeker, travels around the world in search of adventure.

When Lucy goes missing, Mary, her mother, and aunt visit a Long Island mansion called Hollingham Hall where Lucy had been employed as a tour guide before she disappeared. There, Mary meets three men, one of whom may have been romantically involved with Lucy – a charming historian, a volatile artist, and a friendly landscaper.

As Mary searches for her cousin, she is drawn deeper into Hollingham’s labyrinthine gardens and shadowed corridors where she discovers a chilling connection between Lucy and a woman who vanished seventy years ago on the eve of her wedding. She also learns of the “ghost cat” rumored to prowl the property.

When strange events take place at Hollingham, the police are called to investigate. But is Lucy alive and is her disappearance connected to the missing bride or one of the men on the estate?

A mystery of illicit affairs, hidden passageways, and family secrets, Looking for Lucy is the perfect read for fans of gothic novels, psychological thrillers, and atmospheric suspense.

The wallet was evidence that Lucy’s call wasn’t a false alarm. I felt a chill running through me, and my mother was already looking in her purse for her phone to call 911. Aunt Linda, however, was fully in control. “Now let’s not jump to conclusions,” she said. “There’s no evidence of a crime here. The wallet may have fallen out of Lucy’s purse or duffel bag. When she discovers that she left it behind, she’ll come back to get it.”

My mother sighed, and it was one of those sisterly sighs I’d witnessed her make many times around Aunt Linda. “That’s not the point, Lynn. How can Lucy get anywhere without money and her I.D.?”

“You don’t give my daughter credit for her resourcefulness. She’s travelled halfway around the world, for gosh sakes.”

Walter observed the sisters’ exchange with curiosity. I had no desire to take either side. I was just concerned that Lucy, as resourceful as she was, could be in danger.

“Well, you’re her mother,” my mother added. “If you’re not worried, then I guess her aunt shouldn’t be either.”

I had to add my two cents. “What about her cousin? I was the one who received her call for help.”

Both women seemed to run out of ammunition at that point, so Walter interjected. “I think the best thing to do is to tell Mrs. G.” He glanced at his watch. “The tour should be over soon. I can take you back to the house to wait for her.”

Mom was mollified by that suggestion because, at least, it was doing something. Aunt Linda shrugged. She and my mom followed Walter out of the carriage house. He waited for me and then locked the door. Aunt Linda had put Lucy’s wallet in her purse.

“Instead of going back the way we came, I’d like to take you another way,” Walter said, turning right from the carriage house. “We’ll pass my cottage. It’s a circle.”

It was a short walk to Walter’s cottage. Like the Carriage House, only slightly smaller, it was bordered by flowers. A black and brown striped cat was munching on some green leafy plants growing under the front window. Walter smiled. “That’s my cat, Toppy. I grow catnip for him.”

“Toppy, what an interesting name,” I said.

“It’s short for Topiary,” Walter explained. “I found him near one of the Topiaries about a year ago and adopted him. I think he wandered into the estate, but he was only a kitten and no one in the area claimed him when I put up notices.”

“You have a topiary garden?” Aunt Linda asked. “I adore topiaries. You have to show me.”

Walter’s face brightened. “You’ll probably also enjoy the maze.”

“A garden maze, oh how delightful!”

I couldn’t believe that she was more interested in the estate’s botany than in finding her daughter.

Debbie De Louise is an award-winning author and a retired reference librarian. She is a member of Sisters-in-Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Cat Writers’ Association, and the South Carolina Writers Association. She’s written over twenty books including three cozy mystery series: the Cobble Cove Mysteries, Buttercup Bend Mysteries, and her new series, Soup the Supernatural Kitten Mysteries. She’s also written a paranormal romance, standalone mysteries, a time-travel novel, and a collection of cat poems. Her stories and poetry appear in more than a dozen anthologies. Originally from Long Island, she moved to South Carolina where she now lives with her husband, daughter, and three cats. Learn more about Debbie and her books by visiting her website at https://debbiedelouise.com.

Win a $10 Amazon Gift Card/PayPal Cash!

(Comment at a different blog each day for more entries)

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 Click the button below to see other participating sites 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Royal Mayhem by Samantha Jayne Grubey 💕 New Release Blitz and Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

2026-04-15T00:07:00.021-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Will Prince Alexander by denied for the first time by the first woman that he truly wants?

Part one of a duet.

Melinda Brown doesn’t want much in life, graduate university and survive.

Prince Alexander has everything, surrounded be riches and spoilt to the core. Everything he’s ever wanted has been at the tip of his finger due to his prestigious status as future King of England.

Despite coming from two different worlds, they share the same university. One day everything changes when the two crash into each other’s lives, literally.

As they both enter each other’s worlds, they’re forced to make compromises for the sake of their growing attraction.

Will Melinda and Alexander be able to win people with their love, especially when it becomes clear that they both hide secrets? Or will Prince Alexander by denied for the first time by the first woman that he truly wants? Not everything is as it seems in Royal Mayhem.

Rolling onto my side, I was met with thin air falling to the floor letting out a groan as I hit the floor.

How did I fall out of bed?

I opened my eyes seeing I was in the living room. The memories of last night finally came rushing back to me. We had been binge-watching my favourite reality television show and fell asleep.

Looking behind me, Alex was still fast asleep. He looked so peaceful. With him asleep, I had time to admire him without him knowing it. It had taken a bit for Alex to get comfortable after the incident again. I could tell he was fighting with himself. There must’ve been a huge part of him that wanted to run and hide, whilst the other part of him wanted to stay.

What scared me the most is that I wanted to know both of those parts of him. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I wanted to know it all. I wanted to know him.

Then, there’s the secret.

Could I cope with not knowing what his secret was?

It was obvious he had one, no adult had a grown babysitter without a reason. The security that had suddenly appeared around the campus, it all coincides with when Alex started at university.

I couldn’t figure out what the reason was.

Did he have a famous and important family?

Was he secretly a political figure?

Would I end up hurt?

I wanted to google him so bad. I reached for my phone, opening up the browser and stared at it.

Could I break my promise?

I told him I wouldn’t.

I let out a groan, throwing my phone back on the sofa.

I stood up, made my way to the bathroom, and showered quickly. I wrap the towel around me heading to the bedroom changing into some clean clothes. My body ached so much. Sleeping on a small sofa with someone else was not the best way to sleep.

After finishing getting ready, I made my way downstairs, Alex was still asleep on the sofa, and into the kitchen. I grabbed a can out of the fridge, opening it and taking a small sip.

Maybe I should prepare some breakfast.

I know Alex brought breakfast things I couldn’t believe he went shopping for me. I don’t think anyone would top what he did for me. I walked into the living room and saw he was sitting up looking confused.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he said. “I was really confused about where I was then.”

“Do you often wake up at random houses not knowing who you’re with?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not happened in a few years,” he admitted. “Do you have plans today?”

I shook my head.

“Do you want to go on that date?”

“I’d love to.” Butterflies filled my stomach, this was my first real date.

“Great,” he smiled. “I’m going to go home and then I’ll come pick you up” he looked at his phone “around midday if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I said. He stood up, stretching his arms out.

I made my way over to the door and let him out. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, you will. Just so you know, I had fun last night,” he said.

“Me, too.”

He got into his car and drove off.

I headed into the living room, grabbing my phone.

Megan answered straight away. “If this isn’t life or death, I’m going to fucking kill you, Melinda,” she mumbled.

“Does Alex asking me on a date count?”

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

Read on ANY device, or try a Kindle eReader

(4 colors to choose from!)

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

Samantha Jayne Grubey is an author of new adult romance.

When she's not writing or reading, she will be playing sims or doing some diamond art and if she isn't doing any of that she could be pole dancing or most likely working.

Win a PR Box

(UK Shipping Only)

an Amazon Gift Card!

(International)

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

A Proof of Love by Merida Johns 💕 Behind the Scenes, Book Tour and $25 Gift Card Giveaway 💕(Women's Fiction)

2026-04-14T00:07:00.043-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

When she discovers a decades-old secret binding her, Rose, and bad-tempered Ned Boomer, her world takes a turn.

A fictional story with a memoir overlay as narrator Katie Blake reflects on life in small town America and the principles, influences, and big personalities she wants you to never forget.

It’s Memorial Day weekend, 2009, and the town gossips have their shorts in a twist about a mysterious newcomer who wears tie-dye, colorful headbands, clunky necklaces, and rings on every finger. “Who installs a ceiling fan on a Victorian porch?” cries Ned Boomer, Woodburg’s grumpiest man, and the town gossips concur, “She must be a hippie, witch, or maybe worse . . . a socialist.”

Hell-bent on preventing a neighborhood blow-up, precocious, nine-year-old Katie Blake launches a covert investigation to gather the truth about the enigmatic Rose. But when she discovers a decades-old secret binding her, Rose, and bad-tempered Ned Boomer, her world takes a turn.

Penning a memoir sixteen years later, Katie is forced to reconsider whether the real proof of love was in preventing a neighborhood war or finding friendship and comfort among three unlikely grief-stricken souls who should never be forgotten.

How Journals, Old Letters, and Diaries Inspire Me

We should write, above all, because we are writers, whether we call ourselves writers or not.” – Julia Cameron

Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated by diaries, journals, and old letters. It’s not that I’m a habitual journal keeper or letter writer—it’s that I’m curious and nosey! I want to draw the curtains, peek through the windows of people’s lives, hear their voices, and commune with them. Reading journals, diaries, and old letters allows me do that!

I think of these as a reflection archetype, sympathetic to the protagonist’s journey, or a sage who provides a systematic approach for making choices at the “grim crossroads.” These written reflections—whether a letter, journal, or diary—serve two roles in each of my novels. They are the protagonist’s or a secondary character’s unvarnished inner voice, sharing inner thoughts, emotions, and conflicts, and they are the catalyst that propels the protagonist forward into deeper thought and resolution.

So, it’s no surprise that letters play a subtle yet crucial role in the rising action, climax, and resolution in my current novel, A Proof of Love. And it’s one particular letter, written four decades earlier, that places the puzzle pieces together for the bond among the protagonist, Katie, and the secondary characters, Rose and Ned.

What inspired the letters in A Proof of Love? I asked myself the simple question:

What if the poignancy of Vietnam War letters and grief became the catalyst for written messages of gratitude that strengthened the relationship and elevated the happiness of the protagonist and secondary characters?

The answer to that question is in A Proof of Love.

A deep bow of gratitude to the little-known writers of journals, letters, and diaries whose words have inspired me.

Gram taught me to be independent, manage my anxieties, and have confidence in myself, showing me how to use my imagination to wiggle out of a jam or face the “grim crossroads” when confused or sad.

The first time I cried and lost it over a complicated computer problem, she said, “Be inventive, Katie! What can you do to calm down and think things through?”

We put our heads together to come up with ideas. Gram said she brewed herself a cup of tea when needing a break. Mom worked on crossword puzzles. Dad played solitaire. My one decadent delight was a FatBoy ice cream, and that’s how Gram and I hatched the plan of taking two ice cream sandwiches and hiding them under the frozen vegetables to create my private emergency stash.

“Close your eyes, breathe, take a bite, and replace the leftovers. No one will suspect anything. Our little secret. . .”

Read on ANY device, or try a Kindle eReader

(4 colors to choose from!)

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

At heart, I am a storyteller who writes women’s fiction and stories of courage and discovery, showcasing the protagonist’s journey toward a more fulfilled self.

My passion is writing women’s fiction and exploring the human experience—how ordinary people tackle challenges, endure sorrow and betrayal, wrestle with doubt, and act on their aspirations to achieve flourishing lives.

My insight into the power of fiction came during a conference call in late 2017 with a group of fellow life coaches. “What would it be like to help women and men achieve a flourishing life through storytelling?” I asked them.

After that phone call, I got started answering that question. The result was my debut novel titled Blackhorse Road, a compelling story of womanhood and the power of choice, gratitude, and forgiveness, published July 21, 2020, by Coffee Cup Press, followed by Flower Girl (2022), Flawless Witness (2023), and now A Proof of Love (2026)

Before embracing writing fiction, I was the author of health informatics and leadership textbooks. Later, I put my leadership experience to use as a leadership coach, focusing on supporting others to fulfill their leadership and economic potential. My range of nonfiction is available on my Amazon Author Page.

Win a $25 Amazon or B/N Gift Card!

Comment at a different blog each day for more entries!
Click Here for the list!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 Click the button below to see other participating sites 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Spring into Books Festival and $100 Gift Card Giveaway presented by N.N. Light's Book Heaven 💕 featuring Settling Up by Michelle D. Rayford💕 (Contemporary Romance)

2026-04-14T00:06:00.005-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

The perfect time to fill up your e-reader and bookshelves with books!

Checklist for life? Completed. But Carmen Miller never imagined an affair being part of it. Yet, here she is, sneaking around with her much younger, irresistible co-worker, Braxton Frazier.

Carmen, the MBA-educated executive, and Braxton, the brilliant up-and-comer, are both entangled in a dangerous game of love and desire. But when their secret love threatens to unravel both their careers and her marriage, they must make a choice: walk away or risk everything for a chance at happiness.

With twisted fate lurking in the background, will Carmen and Braxton succumb to the temptation or find the strength to resist?

Fans of steamy office romances will devour this sinful tale of forbidden love.

This latest career setback has me glued to my desk, the Vision Trend award now an anchor of mockery. You’re still not worthy. You’ll never be enough. The mantra seems to broadcast from the dimming reflection of the setting sun outside the window.

No reason to rush home. Melvin texted he was picking up our daughter from the after-school program, and I’m in no mood to face his judgment or his delight at my failure.

I sit in this leather chair in this office I’ve worked so hard for and replay the day. Analyze every conversation over the past month. Trying to see what clues I missed. What interaction could have gone another way? How could I make them see they should’ve chosen me?

I’m fully spiraling, on the verge of an anxiety attack when there’s a knock on the door.

“Are you okay?”

Braxton stands at the threshold with his suit jacket draped over his arm and a look of concern etched on his face.

Before I can respond, he crosses the room in four long strides and pulls me from the chair. His warm embrace cocoons me with his fresh scent, and I relax before pushing him away.

“Don’t worry,” he says, bringing me back into his chest. “Everyone is gone.”

I allow myself another minute and step away again. “Why are you still here?”

Braxton runs his hands down my shoulders, easing the tension from them. “My mentor taught me to never leave before the boss. Got to show them you’re a hard worker willing to over deliver on projects, right?”

My laugh has no amusement in it as I turn to gaze out the window. “You might want to disregard everything your mentor told you. Obviously, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Nonsense.” Braxton steps closer, his energy pulsing between us, causing my heartbeat to speed up. He leans close and whispers into my ear. “You’re the smartest person on this team. Corporate politics can’t dim your shine. They must have on blinders if they can’t see you.”

I turn and gaze into his hooded brown eyes, and I’m transported back to Monte Carlo. The night I won this useless award was the best and worst night of my life.

The cloudless night sky illuminated the surrounding beach, and the waves played a symphony in tune with my heartbeat. Braxton and I stood on the breezeway after disembarking from the agency yacht cruise, a perk of the annual event held by P & K. The celebratory occasion included heavy hors d’oeuvres and plenty of champagne. Everyone else caught the shuttle to the Casino de Monte Carlo, but we lagged behind.

“Congratulations again,” Braxton said. “And thanks for including me on this trip.”

“You deserved it,” I replied, waving the award between us. “You helped make this possible too.”

Braxton had only been working at the agency for six months when they were thrown together on the Seduction campaign. All the long nights and brainstorming sessions revealed an intelligent man with irresistible charm. What began as a working relationship developed into something close friends. The result was a campaign that had been more successful than any of the others to date.

“Everything okay at home?”

He’d walked in on the latest argument with Melvin-a tantrum before I left for this trip. Too many strained conversations ended while Braxton stood at my door.

And then, Braxton shrugging out of his jacket. The warmth of it seeps into my body as he places it around my shoulders.

A whisper against my ear. “Can’t have the boss lady getting cold.”

His hand on the small of my back, the tingle at the base of my spine from his touch.

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

The scent of his cologne, mixing with the sea air…sandalwood.

Me saying, “We can’t cross the line.” When I already knew we had.

Now here I am in this current moment, broken and discouraged, and this man is here for me. Again.

Braxton gives me a slow, sensual smile that showcases a dimple piercing his left cheek, and hunger causes me to lick my lips.

“Tell me what you need.”

Words aren’t sufficient for my need, so I put one hand behind his head and pull him in. One touch of his lips and the sensation sends a jolt through my body, causing me to gasp. Braxton wraps his arms around my waist, dropping his jacket to the floor. We explore each other further, and I taste the hint of mint on his tongue.

All sound fades away, and I’m lost in the pleasure of knowing this young man wants me in a way that feels foreign. This is something I don’t get at home.

Unconditional acceptance and appreciation.

A bang at the door makes us jump apart. Someone is a witness, and I see my entire career implode.

💕 Can't see the Pinterest board? Click Here! 💕

Michelle D. Rayford is an author whose trademark stories deal with love, marriage and the messiness that comes after saying “I Do.” Her debut novel, Moment of Truth, has been applauded for its real-life characters and contemporary issues and she has short stories penned in several anthologies. Her current release, Settling Up, is part of a new series which explores the different ways we find our soulmates. Michelle lives in a Southern city with her husband and two daughters and can be reached via her website at www.michelledrayford.com.

Win a $100 Amazon Gift Card!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 More titles revealed daily 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

House of Cards by Phillippa Mann 💕 Book Blast and $10 Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Memoir)

2026-04-13T00:07:00.037-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Surviving Munchausen by Proxy and a Mother's Web of Lies

A raw and unflinching memoir of survival, truth, and transformation. Phillippa Mann takes readers deep into the fractured world of a girl who grew up living with a monster--a world where love and fear shared the same face, and silence became a means of survival.

Through heartbreak, chaos, and betrayal, Phillippa's voice emerges from the shadows as she begins to piece together a life that was never hers to begin with. Her journey is one of courage and reckoning, of facing the unbearable truths that shaped her, and finding strength in vulnerability.

More than a story of pain, House of Cards is a testament to the power of healing and self-forgiveness. It reminds every survivor that bringing hidden truths into the light is not the end - it's the beginning of reclaiming your story and rebuilding the foundation of who you were always meant to be.

As I embarked on this new chapter of motherhood and marriage, I began to re-evaluate some of the stories I had been told since childhood. How could my dad have been in bed with another man if he was married to my mother? And if he was gay, why would he marry my stepmom and then later adopt my little brother, further building a life with her? It didn’t even make sense in my mind.

He often reminisced about our family camping trips and his visits to us. I recall wondering whether his twin brother had merely shared those memories with him and why he had not wanted to see us when we were little, as it was obviously my dad I was visiting as I got older. Eventually, I mustered the courage to initiate a conversation with him. When my baby was approximately six months old, I wrote a letter to my dad expressing my need to ask him some questions and inquiring if he would be willing to visit for a discussion. He promptly called me upon receiving the letter to arrange a time for his visit.

I had prepared a list of inquiries, including whether he had been unfaithful to my mother, if she had discovered him in bed with another person (I lacked the courage to specify it was with a man), and whether he had a twin brother named Christian. He firmly denied all these allegations. Part of me wishes I had probed further or engaged in a more profound dialogue regarding my concerns; there was so much to unravel from those topics, yet at that moment, I felt content with the answers I received. For a while, I did not dwell on it too much, as I was preoccupied with my new baby.

I returned to work a few afternoons each week, and my nan would take the bus to my home to care for my son. I recall one day returning home to find his diaper on backward, and I thought about how challenging it must have been for her to fasten the sticky tabs at the back. My nan was an incredibly kind woman, and my son was undoubtedly the apple of her eye; she clearly cherished her time spent with him, and I wish she had been around longer to watch all my children grow up.

Phillippa Mann is a Canadian author who is passionate about helping others find healing through shared experience.

Her memoir, House of Cards:

Surviving Munchausen by Proxy and a Mother's Web of Lies, explores the emotional journey of growing up in chaos and reclaiming strength through forgiveness and self-discovery.

Family is at the heart of everything Phillippa does. She and her husband share a love of creating together, and their children and grandchildren inspire her every day to live with gratitude, laughter, and purpose. When she's not writing, Phillippa can be found playing with her Corgi, Glenn, crafting handmade gifts, baking cookies and cupcakes for her family business, Sweet Lavender Designs, which she started in memory of a dear friend.

She is currently working on her next creative project, a heartwarming children's book titled Hop Hop and the Great Garden Adventure, inspired by the wonder and imagination of her grandchildren.

Win a $10 Amazon or B/N Gift Card!

Comment at a different blog each day for more entries!
Click Here for the list!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 Click the button below to see other participating sites 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

The Protection Agreement by A. Akinosho 💕 New Release Tour and $25 Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Billionaire Romantic Suspense)

2026-04-10T00:07:00.065-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

He was hired to be her shield, but he never expected she’d be the one to pierce his heart.

Duty or desire—he’s sworn to keep her alive.

But staying close blurs the line.

When a threat puts her life in danger, there’s only one man capable of protecting her—a ruthless bodyguard with a fearsome reputation and loyalty carved into his bones. The problem? His family and hers are sworn enemies. And he learned to hate her last name long before he ever knew her.

This is duty.
A contract.
Nothing more.

Shared space. Constant protection.
No attachment. No temptation.

Forced proximity turns restraint into tension. Hatred softens. Awareness sharpens. Desire becomes impossible to ignore.
She’s a damsel in distress who refuses to be fragile. He’s a possessive protector bound by duty, fighting feelings he has no right to claim. Every glance is forbidden. Every moment together is a betrayal written in silence.

As enemies close in and pressure mounts, distance becomes impossible.

Because the longer he stands between her and danger, the harder it is to remember where duty ends—and desire begins.

He was sworn to keep her alive.
He just wasn’t prepared for what it would cost him.

Touch her… and die?

Bruce

Lexi returns from her room and takes the seat next to me. I’ve concluded that we are fighting a losing battle. It’s just a matter of time before the attraction between us takes over and its fiery flame burns through us. We are quiet, our eyes are trained on the movie even as I’m provocatively attune to her presence, her allure is seeping into every nook and cranny of my being. It doesn’t take long before she leans into me. I don’t move out of her reach. She’s soft and warm in my arms and my whole being is responding to her closeness. I need to get her in bed. I move her head from my shoulder.

“Hmm,” she groans. “Kiss me, Bruce,” she whispers. I pause for a moment, convinced I didn’t hear her.

“What did you say?” I ask, betting she doesn’t realize what she asked of me.

“Kiss me, Bruce,” she says, her voice barely audible. “I want you to kiss me. I took my meds.“ A chuckle escapes her “Be aware that I may not remember in the morning, so make it good so I can dream of you.” She grins, though a bit out of it.

I want her to remember, and I shouldn’t grant her request, but I’ve been dying to kiss her, so who am I to deny her request especially when she wants to dream of me. I shift positions so she’s on her back and I kiss her lips gently and she opens her mouth to let me in. I kiss her with the fervor of a starved man that I am. Her tongue swirls sweetly with mine. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer and deeper to her. My tongue is seeking every inch of her mouth, my body is intensely aroused. A soft moan escapes her, it sends a charge through my body.

I can probably make love to her now and she wouldn’t stop me, but I also want her sober and consenting plus I want her to always remember us, every touch, every kiss and every thrust of me inside her. I slowly pull away. Breaking the sweet feel of our kiss.

Fuck, I just kissed Jonah’s girl and I fucking like it.

She smiles. “Goodnight, Bruce.”

She turns to her side and sleeps like she didn’t just break through every resistance shield of mine. I sigh because looking at her, I want more. I feel it in the blood thumping in my veins. My ragged breath that I fucking need to control. My hands running through my hair in exasperation of what I’ve just done. I know there’s no going back now.

Leaning down, I lift her in my arms. She giggles like a little girl. I should leave her in her room, but I’ve a need for her closeness, I can’t explain or control. I move slowly with her asleep in my arms and place her gently in my bed. She curls to her side and sleeps off. I sit on the bed for a moment watching her, “she can’t leave” the voice that slams in my head. Just as Declan’s words a while ago “when you kiss the one, you never want another” I feel the weight of what I’ve done. Kissed the one but she belongs to another man and not just any man. A man that hates my guts, paid me to keep her safe and sternly warned me not to touch her. I now know why, he made that request because he knows once I did.

He and I would be at war. Yet I find myself willing to go to war for her. Damn it

I move closer and kiss her temple, my palm gently touching her face. A giggle escapes her and I wonder if she’s dreaming of me. I cover her and get off the bed. I go into the bathroom to shower and relieve the monster awakening between my legs. I get temporary relief. Wrapping my towel around my waist. I peep to check on her. She’s knocked out. I put sleeping pants on and get in bed with her, pulling her into my arms and she doesn’t resist.

💕 To be released April 24💕

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

Read on ANY device, or try a Kindle eReader

(4 colors to choose from!)

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

Decisions that haunt,

Love that lingers

Anne

I’m a realist, cynical about falling in love. Until I met Declan - the rich and powerful player. With his quiet determination, he dismantled my cynicism and made me believe.

Before I know it, I’m flashing a radiant smile, dressed, and eagerly awaiting him at the altar.

Only, I got the text - "I'm not coming" – shattering my world.

Regret is a waste of time; I stand by my original convictions.

Years later, he’s back demanding a second chance, how dare he?

Declan

I shook on the agreement without hesitation because I had zero plans to marry for love. Ever.

Years later, Anne crashed into my life. I find myself craving what I thought I didn't need or want.

Unexpectedly, the agreement I made resurfaced, presenting me with a dilemma:

Marry as agreed or

Lose Anne forever.

Deal accepted, regardless of hurting Anne.

When I find Anne again, she’s engaged, far as I’m concerned, she’s still mine.

I’ll cheat, steal, and fight before I let Anne marry another.

All is fair in love and war. And this is war…hope he’s ready to fight?

The Handshake agreement is a contemporary an age gap, best friends brother, second chance romance with a Possessive MMC

The best laid plans sometimes crumble,

but fate has the perfect detour.

Ayodele

In desperate need of a solution, I’m about to lose everything—my education, my future—if I’m deported before finishing school. Osei, bless his heart, is willing to marry me, but his wandering eye would only bring more trouble than we need.

Enter Luke, my best friend’s brother, with a shocking proposal: a marriage agreement. A simple arrangement that could save us both.

He needs to escape the forced marriage his father’s pushing on him, and I need to stay in the country to finish school.

It’s a deal that works for both of us.

But neither of us expected that living together, pretending to be husband and wife, would blur the lines between what's real and what’s just part of our agreement.

I didn’t plan on falling in love with Luke, but sometimes the heart doesn’t care about the plan.

Luke

There was always a girl—a girl I couldn’t get out of my head. When I finally find her, she’s with the one person I could never betray—my brother.

I’ve kept my distance, believing that Ayodele was off-limits, only to learn she’s only my brother’s best friend. But crossing that line still felt forbidden. So, I’ve watched her quietly, wanting what I thought I could never have.

Now, she desperately needs help, and I see a way to help her—and myself. A fake marriage would solve both our problems. She stays to finish school, and I escape the loveless match my father is forcing me into.

It’s the perfect solution.

Or so I thought. What was supposed to be just an agreement is becoming something else entirely. The connection I’ve tried to deny is impossible to ignore, and keeping my distance is no longer an option.

Maybe this was never supposed to be a plan, because, neither of us is sticking to the plan.

No problem, right?

One apartment. One fake boyfriend. One agreement waiting to be broken.

Makayla:

I’m tired of my dad playing matchmaker.

As a music teacher juggling life with sickle cell disease, I don’t have time—or energy—for forced dinner dates with “eligible men.”

So, I come up with a plan: find a fake boyfriend, let him move in, and make it believable.

Daniel was never supposed to say yes.

He’s a grumpy, emotionally walled-off lawyer who hates chaos and clings to solitude.

But now he’s in my apartment—tall, brooding, infuriatingly neat—and fitting into my world way too easily.

I don’t believe in love. Not when life has taught me it rarely sticks around.

But something about him feels dangerously real.

Daniel:

Something about her captured my attention the moment I met her.

I knew I was in trouble.

Controlled and always alone—that’s who I’ve been.

But I said yes before I could stop myself.

Because moving into her tea-scented, music-filled home was the only way I could be close to her.

She’s sunshine and sharp edges. She hums while stirring honey into her cup and smiles through pain like it’s nothing.

This was supposed to be pretend.

But with every stolen glance and late-night conversation, the line between real and fake keeps slipping.

She doesn’t believe in love.

I never thought it was possible.

But living with her is rewriting everything I thought I knew—

And walking away might not be an option.

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

A. Akinosho lives in her own little nest in Illinois. An avid reader and enjoy reading thrillers, suspense and romance novels (partial to romance genre). When, She’s not reading or keeping up with life. She enjoys writing and creating twist to stories. She loves writing about diverse characters, friendship and overcoming challenges through, what is perceived as a weakness.

Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card/PayPal Cash!

Comment at a different blog each day for more entries!
Click Here for the list!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 Click the button below to see other participating sites 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Can’t Shoot Whiskey by Zoe Forward 💕 New Release Blitz and $30 Gift Card Giveaway 💕(Romantic Comedy)

2026-04-10T00:06:00.030-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Avoiding him?

Impossible.

Forgetting what we were?

Laughable.

Josh Hurst was supposed to be my forever. Instead, he became the villain in my origin story.

I gave him my heart. He broke it without flinching. So, I did what any self-respecting, heart-shattered girl would do—I declared war.

Our revenge game? Legendary.

Until I left for college and swore I’d never look back.

But life doesn’t care about vows made in the dark.

When my father dies unexpectedly, I’m dragged back to the hometown I outgrew, handed guardianship of my grieving kid brother, and forced to take over my father’s struggling veterinary clinic.

And waiting for me—like karma with a smirk—is Josh.

Not as a memory.

Not as a ghost.

But as my new business partner.

Avoiding him? Impossible.

Forgetting what we were? Laughable.

He still looks at me like I’m his. Like we’re a story paused instead of over. Like one spark is all it would take.

And God help me, the spark is still there.

But we don’t do soft. We don’t do safe.

We do oil and fire. War and wreckage.

Whatever we once were—

Whatever we still could be—

We’re enemies.

And this time, nobody’s walking away unburned.

What You Get In This Book:

• Enemies to lovers veterinary romance

• Banter, burn, and boiling tension

• Alpha hero with a broken past

• Fierce heroine who gives as good as she gets

• Emotional depth under the snark

• Slow burn ➜ full combustion

TROPES:

Enemies to lovers

Second chance romance

Veterinary romance

Workplace romance

Working with the Ex

Single parent

Childhood sweetheart

Emotional scars and dark secret

It will never work

I tugged at my hair. “Haven’t you done enough to mess up my life?”

“Enough?” Her eyes narrowed. She pushed away from the side of the building. “It’ll never be enough. I was there when you lost your brother. You helped me get through me losing my mother two years ago. You spent months doing all that stuff to convince me we should go out. Months of romantic bullshit. I thought you were my always and whenever, but you’re not.”

The hurt in my chest was so much I could barely breathe.

She whispered, “You cheated on me the day before prom. How is it possible you turned into an asshole overnight?”

I had to.

I never wanted to let her go. Even thinking about it felt like my ribs were caving in. I skipped prom last weekend—not because I didn’t want to go, but because the thought of seeing her there with someone else, smiling like nothing had happened, would’ve broken me.

She kept going, voice shaking but sharp enough to cut. “I caught you sucking face with—with Milly.” She practically spat the name. “Of all people—her? She’s hated me since seventh grade.” Her breath hitched. “My pity date to prom wouldn’t even dance with me. Drew just stood there like a coward while I pretended I couldn’t see everyone staring.” Her eyes glistened, but her smile was bitter. “And for the record? Drew kisses better than you ever did.”

“Does he?” Every other concern in my head dropped away. Drew kissed my girl? I would beat the hell out of him after the game, regardless of being friends and teammates. The dart of her eyes told me she lied about it being good. “You didn’t like it. That’s why you wanted me to kiss you right now. You needed a reminder of what it’s like to be kissed right.”

She whispered. “I’ll never forgive you for kissing her.”

At least she didn’t deny our kiss was better.

“This revenge shit stops now.” I held up my hands. “Enough. This ends now.”

“I was never enough for you.” Her voice trembled with fury and something far more dangerous.

Her gaze dragged down my bare chest, lingering like a touch that never quite landed. A small smile tugged at her lips.

I glanced down.

Crap. I’d forgotten I wasn’t dressed.

Baseball underwear. Blue knee-high socks. No shoes. The pale skin usually hidden under my baseball pants dared the sun to burn it.

Erika always had a way of making me lose my sanity.

The gym door clicked shut behind me. The prop had slipped.

“No!” I lunged for the handle and yanked, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. Completely locked.

Panic shot through me like electricity. I slammed both fists against the metal, the sound echoing back at me in a hollow, mocking boom.

Today wasn’t just another game. It was the game—the most important one of my life. College scouts sat in those bleachers right now, ready to decide whether I’d leave with a full-ride future or nothing but a pat on the back and a maybe-next-year.

I pounded the door once more and turned slowly. “This is your fault. How could you do this to me?”

She whispered, “Is there another way in?”

“It’s locked.” I pointed at the door. “That’s it.”

“It’s not my fault you ran out here wearing that.” Her gaze darted down my body again. “There’s got to be a coach or someone still here.”

“Everyone’s at the field. And I’m in…” I gestured to my underwear and socks. “Give me your phone. I’ll call someone to help.”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“You owe me this. You’re never without it.” I held out my hand. “Give it. Now.”

She dropped her head. “My dad took it away after he found out the lab fire was my fault.” She clasped her hands. “I can go get my car and drive you down to the field or look for someone to unlock the door.”

“That’ll take too long.” I ground the words out between clenched teeth, my jaw aching. “This was a step too far. Nobody is ever going to forget me showing up naked to the biggest game of my life.”

My pulse hammered in my throat, fury drowning out everything else.

“You wanted war, Erika?” I snarled. “Well, congratulations. You just got it.”

USA Today bestselling author Zoe Forward is a parent, wife, veterinarian, and unapologetic chocolate lover. She writes spicy paranormal and contemporary romances that blend action, adventure, humor, and a touch of magic.

Zoe lives in the South with a lively menagerie of four-legged beasts and two slightly wild kids.

Win a $30 Amazon Gift Card!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Tap Out by Rylee Dare 💕 Cover Reveal and $10 Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (MMA Romance)

2026-04-10T00:05:00.095-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Check out the cover reveal of Tap Out!

Are You Ready To Rumble?

Torin

I achieved one dream while I screwed up another, but I was going to reclaim my Spitfire, and no one could stop me. She was still mine.

Diem

I’d been burned by men one too many times. So, yeah, it was better to forget about all of them because I’d never find what I truly wanted in a relationship. The elusive fairytale ending was just that. In real life, it didn’t exist.

Soren

The moment I saw a leather-clad goddess strut into my nightclub with a beast of a man, I knew I’d do anything to have her. The thing was, she insisted she was done with men and said my pursuit was a waste of time.

Ha! We’d see about that.

Can't see the trailer? Click here

No stranger to pain, Torin “The Tornado” Correy had been hit by the best and never once tapped out. Yet, a little wisp of a thing accomplished that impossible feat with nothing but a strappy pink shoe. Like a Cinderella from a ball for the criminally insane, she fled the instant Big Ben struck midnight—leaving her weapon behind.

Have you ever heard the phrase, “It was love at first sight?” Yeah, that doesn’t really apply here since for Diem and Tor, it was lust at first fight.

💕 Receive an advanced copy in exchange for your honest review of the book💕

Like many authors who say they have been writing as long as they can remember, Rylee is the same.

Besides writing romance, she’s an avid reader and listener of audiobooks who supports all human-created arts and lives in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with her husband and their diva of a cat they adore.

Rylee writes contemporary romance, sports romance, sci-fi, paranormal romance, and fantasy. She also writes contemporary romance, ranging from sweet to steamy, as well as inspirational romance, historical fiction, and romantic suspense under the name D.L. Lane.

Win a $10 Amazon Gift Card/PayPal Cash!

Comment at a different blog each day for more entries!
Click Here for the list!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 Click the button below to see other participating sites 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Wind From the Abyss by Janet Morris 💕 Book Tour and $20 Gift Card Giveaway 💕(Dystopian Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance)

2026-04-09T00:07:00.061-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler .... She is descended from the masters of the universe. To hold her he challenges the gods themselves.

Wind from the Abyss is the third volume in Janet Morris' classic Silistra Quartet, continuing one woman's quest for self-realization in a distant tomorrow.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler .... She is descended from the masters of the universe. To hold her he challenges the gods themselves.

Praise for Janet Morris' Silistra Quartet:

"The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in tomorrow's universe." -- Fred Pohl

"Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure." -- Charles N. Brown, Locus Magazine.

"The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris' Silistra series." -- Anne K. Kahler, The Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine.

This Perseid Press Author's Cut Edition is revised and expanded by the author and presented in a format designed to enhance your reading experience with larger, easy-to-read print, more generous margins, and covers designed for these premium editions.

Wind from the Abyss starts with this . . .

"Since, at the beginning of this tale, I did not recollect myself nor retain even the slightest glimmer of such understanding as would have led me to an awareness of the significance of the various occurrences that transpired at the Lake of Horns, I am adding this preface, though it was no part of my initial conception, that the meaningfulness of the events described by "Khys' Estri" (as I have come to think of the shadow-self I was while the dharen held my skills and memory in abeyance) not be withheld from you as they were from me. I knew myself not: I was Estri because the girl Carth supposedly found wandering in the forest stripped of comprehension and identity chose that name. There, perhaps, lies the greatest irony of all, that I named myself anew after Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, who in reality I had once been. And perhaps it is not irony at all, but an expression of Khys' humor, an implicit dissertation by him who structured my experiences, my very thoughts, for nearly two years, until his audacity drove him to bring together once more Sereth crill Tyris, past-Slayer, then the outlawed Ebvrasea, then arrar to the dharen himself; Chayin rendi Inekte, cahndor of Nemar, co-cahndor of the Taken Lands, chosen son of Tar-Kesa, and at that time Khys' puppet-vassal; and myself, former Well-Keepress, tiask of Nemar, and lastly becoming the chaldless outlaw who had come to judgment and endured ongoing retribution at the dharen's hands. To test his hesting, his power over owkahen, the time-coming-to-be, did Khys put us together, all three, in his Day-Keeper's city -- and from that moment onward, the Weathers of Life became fixed: siphoned into a singular future; sealed tight as a dead god in his mausoleum, whose every move brought him closer to the sum total, obliteration. So did the dharen Khys bespeak it, himself. . ."

“Morris, so good at giving us characters we can identify with, characters we can love and hate, strikes at the very heart of the human condition and the duality of humanity — both good and evil. Her prose is lean and spot-on, every word carefully chosen to enhance the milieu of her imaginary world and advance the plot, giving us access to the thoughts, emotions and machinations of the people whose stories she is presenting to us. Once again, she gives us a “thinking man’s” science fiction/fantasy that explores the nature of power and sexuality, and how they can be used, misused and abused. This is a brilliant, mature and very adult novel that will not only leave you thinking about your own place in the universe, but questioning the very nature of existence.” – Goodreads reviewer

I.In Mourning for the Unrecollected

The hulion hovered, wings aflap, at the window, butting its black wedge of a head against the pane. Its yellow eyes glowed cruelly, slit-pupiled. Its white fangs, gleaming, were each as long as my forearm.
I screamed.
Its tufted ears, flat against its head, twitched. Again and again, toothed mouth open wide, it battered at the window, roaring.
Once more I screamed and ran stumbling to the far wall of my prison. I pounded upon the locked doors with my fists, pressing myself against the wood. Sobbing, I turned to face it.
The beast’s ears flickered at the sound. Those jaws, which could have snapped me in half, closed. It cocked its head.
I trembled, caught in its gaze. I could retreat no farther. I sank to my knees, moaning, against the door frame.
The beast gave one final snort. Those wings, with a spread thrice the length of a tall man, flapped decisively, and it was gone.
When the hulion was no more than a speck in the greening sky, I rose clumsily, shaking, to collect the papers I had strewn across the mat in my terror. They were the arrar Carth’s papers, those he had forgotten in his haste to answer his returning master’s summons.
I knelt upon my hands and knees on the silvery pile, that I might gather the pages and replace them in the tas-sueded folder before Carth returned.
Foolish, I thought to myself, that I had so feared the hulion. It could not have gotten in. I could not get out: It could not get in. Once I had thrown a chair at that impervious clarity. The chair had splintered. With one stout thala leg, as thick as my arm, had I battered upon that window. All I had accomplished was the transformation of chair into kindling. The hulion, I chided myself, could have fared no better.
Hulions, upon occasion, have been known to eat man-flesh. Hulions, furred and winged, fanged and clawed, are the servants of the dharen who rules Silistra. I had had no need to fear. Yet, I thought as I gathered the arrar Carth’s scattered papers, hulions are fearsome. Perhaps if I had been able, as others are, to hear its mind’s intent, I would have felt differently. My fingers, numb and trembling, fumbled for the delicate sheets.
One in particular caught my eye. It was in Carth’s precise hand and headed: “Preassessment Monitoring of the Arrar Sereth. Enar Fourth Second, 25,697.”
I had met, once, the arrar Sereth. Upon my birthday, Macara fourth seventh, in the year ’696 had I met him, that night my child had been conceived. I had read of his exploits. He frightened me, killer of killers, enforcer for the dharen, he who wore the arrar: chald of the messenger. Sereth, scarred and lean and taut like some carnivore, who had loved the Keepress Estri, my namesake, and with her brought great change to Silistra in the pass Amarsa, 25,695 — yes, I had met him.
I sat myself down cross-legged on the Galeshir carpet, papers still strewn about, forgotten, and began to read:
The time is approximately three enths after sun’s rising, the weather clouded and cool, our position just south of the juncture of the Karir and Thoss rivers. I highly recommend that you look in upon the moment.
The arrar Sereth, on the brindle hulion Leir, touched his gol-knife. It was the first unnecessary movement he had made in over an enth. My presence, alongside upon a black hulion, disquieted him. The brindle, gliding at the apex of its bound, snorted. He touched its shoulder, and the beast, obedient, angled its wings and began its descent.
When its feet touched the grass, he set it at a grounded lope. 1 followed suit, bringing my black up to pace him.
Sereth regarded me obliquely. I, as he, served the dharen, he thought, and touched his hulion to a stop.
We had been riding all the night, up from Galesh, where I had met him with the two beasts. He had served the dharen, most lately, in Dritira. And before that, in the hide diet, and before that upon the star world M’ksakka had he dealt death and retribution at Khys’ whim. And dealt them successfully, though those tasks had been fraught with deadlier risk than a man might be expected to survive. His thought was wry, recollecting.
“How did you find M’ksakka?” I asked, to key him, to bring something else above the impenetrable shield he has constructed. My hulion rumbled at the brindle he rode, and that one answered.
“I will make a full report to Khys,” he said, slipping off the hulion’s back. “Let us rest them.”
I joined him where he lay upon the grass, staring at the sky.
“I missed this land,” he said. “The sky there is dark and ominous, always cloudy. M’ksakkan air stings eyes and lungs. Everything is covered with a fine black dust. I would not go again off the planet.”
“Perhaps he will not send you,” I conjectured.
He saw M’ksakka, and that seeing was colored by his distaste, both for the world and the work he had done there. The methods he had employed displeased his sense of fitness. The value of the M’ksakkan’s death was to him obscure. I saw the moment: the adjuster’s surprised eyes, wide and staring as Sereth’s fingers closed on his throat, around his windpipe,·the M’ksakkan’s clawing hand upon his wrist as he ripped out the man’s larynx, vocal folds dangling; then the blood, spurting, and the sound of the adjuster’s choking death. And I saw others he had killed, those who were anxious to try their skills against a real live Silistran. He had been hesitant to do so, but more hesitant to face an endless line of their ilk, so he had killed the first three. Again, his thoughts sank below readable level. The hulions lay quiet, lashing their tails. The clouds scudded heavy over the sun. A soft, drizzling rain commenced.
“The dharen is pleased with you,” I said.
He sat up, his mind absolutely inviolate. “What do you want, Carth?” He stared down at me. I lay perfectly still. He made no attempt to read me for his answer. He merely waited.
“A first impression. You are coming up for assessment.” I rose up. “We want to get some sense of you. Your mental health is now our concern.” He ducked his head, ripping grass from the sward. “You brought child upon that well woman in Dritira,” I prodded.
He saw her. In many ways she had reminded him of the Keepress. It had been passes since he had taken a woman. On M’ksakka there were females, but nothing he understood to be a woman. He had not couched many of them. And in hide diet, there were only forereaders. In Dritira, with that woman who reminded him of the Keepress, he had spent his long-pent seed. Four times he had used her, before she was more than a receptacle in his sight. And he had abused her, more than was his custom.
“Get me the forms. I will collect my birth-price,” he answered. He did not want the woman.
“You should take her. We have been considering her. She might yet make a forereader.”
“Then it is a pity she caught. From inferior blood can come only inferior stock.”
“Khys has asked me,” I told him, “to bid you welcome to any of the forereaders we hold in common at the Lake. Spawn from such a union surely would be possessed of talent. The bitterness you hold is out of proportion to the reality. We all, at one time or another, find there is something we want that we may not have.”
He did not answer me, but rose and went to his hulion. He thought of the Keepress Estri as one thinks of the dead, with acceptance; and then thought of his own life, and what compromises he has made to keep it. What he let me know, I have no doubt, will please you. What he did not — that is what concerns me. He allowed me nothing else for the duration of our return.
His shield, as you will find, is set lower and much farther into his deeper conscious than any I have encountered. Most of his processing must take place behind it. Deep-reading him is out of the question. He visualizes barely enough to verbalize his will. That he is functioning superbly is attested by his works. That he feels it to his advantage to serve us at present is a certainty. I worry over what might occur should he choose, eventually, not to serve us.
My formal recommendation is for a complete and detailed assessment. Also, I feel some attempt might be made to pacify him, in light of what he is fast becoming. Or perhaps even to eliminate him, lest he become, like Se’keroth, the weapon turned upon the wielder.
And it was signed Carth.
“Carth!” I gasped, as a dark hand snatched the sheet from my grasp. Still upon my knees, I twisted to see him. His dark eyes gleamed. He ran his hand through his black curls.
“Did you find this informative, Estri?” he asked, towering over me, the paper crumpled in his fist. Carth was furious.
I dared not answer. I started to my feet.
“Pick these up!” he commanded, pointing.
I scurried to obey him, scrambling for the leaves strewn upon the web-work carpet, my stomach a knot. Once before, I had seen Carth this agitated, when I had written for him a certain paper. And he had called it audacious, and destroyed it. I finished, and rose to my full height, handing the tas envelope to him. My head came to his shoulder. He looked down at me, stern-faced.
“You were ill-advised to do this,” he said. “The dharen is not pleased with you. This” — he threw the crumpled sheet across the room — “will only aggravate matters. You had best make some effort to placate him.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “Has he taken some sudden interest in me?” I had seen the dharen precisely three times since I had come to reside at the Lake of Horns: the night he had gotten me with child, the day following, and once while I lay near death when the unborn had driven me to seek it. He had not been at the Lake of Horns when I bore his he-beast into the world. I had cried out for him during that premature and extended labor. He had been unavailable. Now, nearly eight passes later, he had returned.
“Do not be insolent!” Carth’s voice rasped as his palm cuffed my face to one side. Tears in my eyes, I put my hand to my cheek. It was what I had thought, not what I had said, that had brought me chastisement. Shaking my head, I backed away from him. Though I had known Carth a telepath, a surface-reader, rarest of Silistran talents, never had he shown his skills before me, one who neither spoke nor heard the tongues of mind.
“Estri, come here.”
I went to him, my hand trailing from my cheek to the warm, pulsing band locked about my throat.
When I stood before him, he lifted my face, his hand under my chin, so I must look into his eyes.
“He is very angry, child. You must realize that what you think is as audible to him as what you say. I know it was not malicious, that you read what you found. Forget it, if you can. Concentrate on what lies before you.” He patted my back, all the anger gone out of him.
“I do not want to see him,” I said, toying with the ends of my copper hair, grown now well below mid thigh.
Carth pursed his lips. “You have no choice. He will see you in a third-enth. Make ready.” And he turned and strode through the double doors that adjoined my prison to Khys’ quarters. Khys, my couch-mate, was again in residence. The dharen of all Silistra, back from none knew where, would again rule from the Lake of Horns.
Make ready, indeed, I thought, combing my hair. I had only the white, sleeveless s’kim I wore; thigh-length, of simple web-cloth. My jewelry was the band of restraint at my throat. I retied the garment upon my hips. Throwing my hair back, I regarded myself in my prison’s mirrored wall. My body, copper-skinned, lithe, only shades lighter than my thick mane, postured at me, arrogant. I had thought, for a time, that the he-beast had destroyed it, but such had not been the case. Exercise had given its grace and firmness back to me. My legs are very long, my waist tiny, hips slim. Pregnancy had altered me little. My breasts were still high and firm, my belly flat and tight. Good enough for him, surely. I widened my eyes suggestively, then stuck my tongue out at her. She made a face back. I grinned and wondered why I had done so, turning from the wall that ever showed me the boundaries of my world.

Read on ANY device, or try a Kindle eReader

(4 colors to choose from!)

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

Biology shapes reality...

One woman's mythic search for self-realization in a distant tomorrow...

Her sensuality was at the core of her world, her quest beyond the civilized stars.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler.

"Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure." - Charles N. Brown, Locus Magazine

"The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in tomorrow's universe" - Frederik Pohl

"The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris' Silistra series... Estri's character is most like that of Ishtar who describes herself as "'a prostitute compassionate am I'" because she "symbolizes the creative submission to the demands of instinct, to the chaos of nature ...the free woman, as opposed to the domesticated woman". Linking Estri with these lunar and water symbols is not difficult because of the moon's eternal virginity (the strength of integrity) links with her changeability (the prostitute's switching of lovers). [...]

Morris strengthens the moon imagery by having Estri as a well-keepress because wells, fountains, and the moon as the orb which controls water have long been associated with fertility, [...] In a sense, she is like the moon because she is apparently eternal, never waxing or waning except in her pursuit of the quest; she is the prototypical wanderer like the moon and Ishtar. She is the eternal night symbol of the moon in opposition to the Day-Keepers [...]

At her majority (her three hundredth birthday), she is given a silver-cubed hologram letter from her mother, containing a videotape of her conception by the savage bronzed barbarian god from another world. [...] If Estri's mother then acts as a bawd, willing her lineage as Well-Keepress to her daughter, then Estri's great-grandmother Astria as foundress of the Well becomes a further mother-bawd figure when she offers her prophetic advice in her letter: "Guard Astria for you may lose it, and more. Beware of one who is not as he seems. Stray not in the port city of Baniev ...look well about you, for your father's daughter's brother seeks you". Having no brother that she knows of does not stay Estri from undertaking the heroic quest of finding her father."

- Anne K. Kaler, The Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine

Dystopia. Biology shapes reality. The further adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in the galaxies of tomorrow.

She had the power to create planets. The sixty carved bones of the Yris-tera foretold her ancient fate. Her heritage of power took her beyond time and space and stole from her the one man she loved.

Enslaved on the planet Silistra tomorrow's most beautiful courtesan unleashes the powers of the gods.

Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in 1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris Morris or others. She contributed short fiction to the shared universe fantasy series Thieves World, in which she created the Sacred Band of Stepsons, a mythical unit of ancient fighters modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. She created, orchestrated, and edited the Bangsian fantasy series Heroes in Hell, writing stories for the series as well as co-writing the related novel, The Little Helliad, with Chris Morris. She wrote the bestselling Silistra Quartet in the 1970s, including High Couch of Silistra, The Golden Sword, Wind from the Abyss, and The Carnelian Throne. This quartet had more than four million copies in Bantam print alone, and was translated into German, French, Italian, Russian and other languages. In the 1980s, Baen Books released a second edition of this landmark series. The third edition is the Author's Cut edition, newly revised by the author for Perseid Press. Most of her fiction work has been in the fantasy and science fiction genres, although she has also written historical and other novels. Morris has written, contributed to, or edited several book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national security topics.

Janet said: 'People often ask what book to read first. I recommend "I, the Sun" if you like ancient history; "The Sacred Band," a novel, if you like heroic fantasy; "Lawyers in Hell" if you like historical fantasy set in hell; "Outpassage" if you like hard science fiction; "High Couch of Silistra" if you like far-future dystopian or philosophical novels. I am most enthusiastic about the definitive Perseid Press Author's Cut editions, which I revised and expanded.'

Win a Print Copy

a $20 Amazon Gift Card/PayPal Cash!

(One Winner Each)

Comment at a different blog each day for more entries!
Click Here for the list!

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

💕 Click the button below to see other participating sites 💕

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

The Essence of His Soul by Mya Kay 💕 Q and A, Book Blitz, Newsletter Freebie and eBook Giveaway 💕 (Inspirational Contemporary Romance)

2026-04-07T08:00:00.004-04:00

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

Essence and Shane must decide if their love is strong enough to withstand the weight of old wounds...

When Essence Taylor, owner of Taylor Made Music Group, steps into Mocha Tea & Trends—a new upscale coffee shop in Old City Philadelphia—she’s focused on business, not romance. But when she overhears the manager scrambling after an artist cancels last minute, Essence seizes the opportunity to showcase her newly signed songstress.

That’s when she meets Shane Bishop.

Philadelphia’s basketball sensation and the shop’s owner, Shane is instantly drawn to Essence. Their eyes meet, sparks fly—and Essence immediately shuts it down. A ball player is the last thing she needs distracting her from her purpose. But Shane can’t ignore the connection he feels as he watches her confidently seal the deal for her artist.

Later, one bold DM changes everything.

What begins as a cautious friendship between two preacher’s kids slowly unfolds into a God-ordained romance neither of them expected. But just as their bond deepens, their lives are shaken by family secrets, resurfacing past relationships, and a devastating incident that threatens to destroy both of their careers.

As rumors swirl and pressure mounts within the entertainment and sports industries, Essence and Shane must decide if their love is strong enough to withstand the weight of old wounds, public scrutiny, and painful truths.

Will they be able to hold on to what God brought together—or will the cost be too great?

Q1: What inspired you to write The Essence of His Soul? Why sports romance?
One of my best-selling novels is Fumbled Your Heart, but it focuses on football. I wanted to write a story that focused on a basketball player and his desire to find love again. Sports romance gives room to break stereotypes and to write love from an angle that isn’t layered in gossip and lust. The Essence of His Soul shows a man leveling up in Christ and in life, and we need more of that on the shelves.

Q2: How do Shane and Essence reflect Philly life or your own experiences?
Shane and Essence both grew up in Philly and their love for the city shows, even on their dates. Essence’s fiery, no-nonsense attitude and Shane’s protective and humble nature reminds me of a lot of the people I know from my city. For me, I didn’t see this type of love growing up, so while it isn’t a reflection of my own experiences, it reflects my prayers.

Q3: What was most rewarding about re-releasing this book under your own publishing banner? Did you feel you had to do it because it is an award-nominated book?
Re-releases are risky, because there is a slew of readers who are already familiar with the book, so people may wonder “why are we seeing this again”. However, when an author gets the rights back to their books from a publisher, it gives them an opportunity to really own the story, from the cover, to bonus content and even how they present it to readers the second time around. It’s been three years since the book first released and while it is one of my most popular, I wanted to capitalize off this new season of writing I’m in. The nominations helped me to see it as a book that deserves another chance to find new readers.

Q4: How has being a Philly native and Temple alum shaped your storytelling?
Being from Philly helped me break stereotypes with my pen and create a fresh, beautiful narrative. Even though it’s a love story, not everyone who is in love is sex-obsessed or lack self-control. The faith component is vital, and the Church plays an important role in the Philadelphia community.

Q5: Are there Philly places, people, or cultural touchstones in the story?
Absolutely. One of my favorite scenes is when they go on a date down Spruce Street Harbor Park. If you’ve never been to Philly, you have no idea what you’re missing, especially when it comes to dating locations. Delaware Avenue is one of Philly’s most popular locations for date nights and family fun. Shane’s coffeeshop, where they meet, is in Old City. Old City is one of my favorite neighborhoods in Philly. The history and rich culture, not to mention the restaurant scene, make it a gem in the city.

Q6: What do you hope readers take away from this story, especially women waiting for love?
Waiting on God for love is vital. Women should know valuing themselves and trusting God with their love story isn’t taboo. We also must be gentler with men. I think sometimes, women expect men to show up as finished products, while we want them to support us through our changes. Creating emotional safe places for men is just as important as them making us feel safe. My books teach the importance of listening and loving well.

Q7: How do the themes feel different now than they did when you first wrote it?
Honestly, they don’t feel different, but they did make me realize that even when I don’t think people are understanding the Christian romance genre, the themes are universal and can help anyone. To me, a book can become evergreen when it’s relevant beyond the year it was written.

Q8: Any favorite moments from the book?
One favorite moment is when Essence finally confronts her overbearing father. For church girls who have a frustrating relationship dynamic with their fathers, this book may heal them without them realizing it. I love touching on real life situations that I know may be affecting my reader. I speak to those things in an entertaining, but gentle way.

Q9: Behind-the-scenes story from revising the book?
As I worked on this edition, I realized Shane and Essence deserved an epilogue. Something I rarely do. Prologues and epilogues can bog a story down if not done right, but I wanted readers to see what happened next, while not giving a complete chapter. I also laughed more revising this time around. I didn’t realize it had so many humorous moments. I’m not saying it’s a romcom, but it isn’t boring.

Q10: If Shane and Essence were in Philly today, what would they be doing?
Read the epilogue and guess for yourself!

I looked at the scoreboard, thinking if I could just blink a few more times, the number would change and I could attempt the shot again, but it didn’t. Ninety-two to eighty-nine. If I would’ve made the last three-pointer, we would’ve at least gone into overtime. Our season was over.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but I couldn’t even breathe. The fact we still had a chance to make it and we’d blown it caused my chest to tighten. I saw Kevell out of the corner of my eye. He walked over to me. I felt his hand on my back.

“Yo, bro. We had a good season. I know it hurts, but we did our best,” he said, his voice cracking.

I looked at him and grabbed him in a hug. Some people may not understand, but the tears that fell from our eyes were tears we’d been holding in all season. We took every win and loss personal, but tonight was the blow that knocked the wind out of us. The Philadelphia Panthers hadn’t been to the playoffs since the first year I joined the team, which was four years ago. Each year, I promised the city a championship and each year, I’d failed them. I know I shouldn’t be carrying the weight of it all on my own, but I was the star player, the point guard. The leading scorer. How could I not think like that?

More teammates came over as we hugged it out. Finally, we made our way over to the other team to congratulate them. I was close to two of the players on the other team and when they hugged me, they shared in my sorrow, which made it worse.

As I walked over to the bench, the crowd did something I wasn’t expecting. Losing at home was a hard pill to swallow, but I watched as, one by one, everyone stood up and started clapping. The arena shook as they stomped the floor and chanted my name. I felt the floor vibrating under my feet. The sound grew louder and that made my tears flow harder. I knew our fans wouldn’t let us down. That was one of the reasons I traded to Philadelphia. The loyalty was insane. I grabbed a towel and wiped my face. Then I walked over to the announcer’s stand and grabbed a mic.

“Thank you. Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat. “You guys are the best. I mean, the absolute best. From your social media support, to when you see us out and about with our families, to right now in this moment. We adore you all. This season has been long and rough, but we carried it as a team. I’m not making you guys any more promises.”

The arena erupted with laughter.

“But I will say this. We won’t stop playing hard for you. Thank you for your love and support.”

I handed the mic back to the announcer, then waved at the crowd as we headed toward the locker room. I slapped the hands that stuck out from the sides as I headed back. I even stopped and took a few pictures with some of the younger fans. I wasn’t really in the mood, but it came with the game.

As I got closer to the locker room, security and other staff members clapped and saluted me and the rest of the team. I was trying my hardest not to be a big crybaby, but who could blame me?

I bent down to take another quick picture, then stood up. When my eyes landed on her, I almost ran over to her. I kept my composure as I made my way over to her. Though I hated she saw me lose, I was happy I’d invited her to my final game of the season. She opened her arms and I fell into them.

Can't see the playlist? Click here

Read on ANY device, or try a Kindle eReader

(4 colors to choose from!)

💕 Click here to learn more 💕

Mya K. Douglas (Mya Kay) is an Amazon bestselling author, dynamic speaker, magazine publisher, and literary leader born and raised in North Philadelphia. Since 2012, she has authored and published fifteen books spanning genres from Christian romance to memoir.

In 2017, she co-authored Before Empire with Andria Mayberry, mother of Empire actor Bryshere “Yazz The Greatest,” featured on The Real. In 2022, she was selected as a semi-finalist for America’s Next Great Author, standing out as one of only 100 from over 800 applicants to pitch to judges including Jason Reynolds, Kwame Alexander, and Victoria Christopher Murray.

That same year, Mya made history as the first Christian romance author signed to B. Love Publications. Her work includes The Storms of Love series, Fumbled Your Heart, and The Essence of His Soul. She has earned nominations including Christian Fiction Author of the Year by AAMBC (2023) and Best Christian Book for The Essence of His Soul at the 2024 Literary Gem Awards. She is currently signed to Black Legacy Publishing under B. Love Publications.

Beyond writing, Mya is the founder of Girls Anthem Magazine, a faith-forward media company inspiring girls and women to pursue purpose without compromising their values.

💕 Subscribe to the author's newsletter and get a Freebie 💕

Win an eCopy!

(Five Winners)

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.