Ashes to Ashes series. Vol One Blitz Packet

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Blurb:

Are you ready to fall into the world of Phoenixes and Wraiths who guard the gates of the beyond? Ashes to Ashes Series Volume One includes the first three books in the Ashes to Ashes series by Annie Anderson. He took everything from her, but she needs him if she wants to live. Rock, meet hard place in Scattered Ashes. She's missed the last fifty years in prison, he's on the proverbial death row in Falling Ashes. She's the Queen and he'll be her King - if they can live that long in Rising Ashes. About Scattered Ashes: Aurelia Constantine is having a rough century. Plagued by visions of murder, death and destruction, she has resigned herself to the nightmare her life has become. When an enemy from her past comes to her rescue, she must let go of old wounds and heal the breach so she may survive the evil poisoning her mind. Rhys Stevens is guilty. Murder. Betrayal. Treason. Take your pick; he’s guilty of them all. On the path of redemption, he must beg for forgiveness from the one person he fought to save - the woman he has always loved. Thrown together in the trenches of war, they must work as a team to stop a monstrous puppet master from pulling their strings. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down. Get ready to burn. About Falling Ashes: Mena Constantine is pissed off. Finally freed from her fifty-year imprisonment by a maniacal leader, she is desperately trying to recover and get her life back. Problem is, the life she had is long gone. Struggling under the weight of her memories and healing from the wounds of her captivity, she can't seem to catch a break. Every waking moment, death seems like a relief she would welcome. Asher Crane is a dead man. As a Guardian to the King, his only purpose in life is to keep the King alive. And he's failing. Miserably. With the King ill, the Queen dying, and zero plans for a successor, he's pretty much screwed. Because if the King dies, the law says Asher dies, too. As these two wounded souls collide in a series of bloody and unfortunate events, they will clutch to the last shreds of life before death beats down their door. About Rising Ashes: West Carmichael is not my real name. It is the name I pulled from thin air over five hundred years ago. I don’t come from royalty—I come from the dregs of the ethereal. As the King’s assassin, I have more blood on my hands than most. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone. But I will keep her safe. Even if I die trying. Evangeline Black. My name sounds like the heroine of a historical romance novel – not that I read those or anything. My life so far: Dead parents? Check. Broken heart? Check. Evil mistress of darkness, hell-bent on power and thirsty for my death? Big. Honking. Check. But this mess won’t get cleaned up by itself. I’ve got a job to do. As these two reluctant hearts fight their pull, they must decide if they want to fall apart in the midst of the chaos swarming around them or yield to their hearts… and rise.

Read A Few Excerpts...

Aurelia – 1855 The mulch-like growth and rocks on the forest floor crunch and squish together under my feet as I scramble through the bedrock and finish climbing the first foothill. Stupid skirt. Stupid slippery shoes. I’m not moving fast enough, but in my state, I’m surprised I can move at all. The stitch in my side is cutting off my breath. Where are they? I stop and search the sky, but I know it’s too late. The sky is rapidly turning the inky black of evening in the early Fall, and with no moon out tonight, I’ll never see the sky as properly as I should. The first blow comes, and I cry out in agony as a wound splits open on the back of my forearm. But there’s no one here. I hear no one and see no one, but a large gaping wound has torn open my arm from wrist to elbow. I smell the coppery bite of blood as the warm, sticky stream seeps down past my fingers and drips onto the dirt, swiftly devoured by the dry soil below. Blackness clouds my vision for a minute, but I force myself to forget the constant pulse of my wound and pull myself together. I rip a swath off my billowing skirt and use the fabric to bind my arm in an effort to stem the bleeding. The navy blue patterned fabric turns indigo from the blood quickly oozing from my wound. I pick myself up off the gritty forest floor and start walking, rather than the panicked pace of before. I can’t run with this wound. I’m already pushing it with this silly corset, especially in my condition. There. I hear it, and I know I was right. They are clashing together somewhere in the distance. They are going to kill each other. © Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

 

Excerpt Two...

Asher My brain seems to split in two. I want to maim and murder, but I also want to comfort her. I can almost taste the bitterness of her distress, how much she must hate people looking at her, talking to her after so many years of captivity. I want to see her eyes. I want to know what she’s thinking. I can’t take the waiting, and I move Ian out of the way and then West and then Evan, making my way to the left side of her bed. I hear the faint sounds of protests and shouts beyond the harsh buzzing in my ears, but I don’t care. I know my hands are taloned, but I can’t think about reining in my phase. I reach out to touch her fidgeting fingers and in surprise, her head finally rises so I can see her face. Her eyes are wide and fringed in black lashes that make her beautiful olive green irises pop. Her forehead and the left side of her face are covered in bruises, and her nose is pert and cute, even if it’s a little swollen. Her cheekbones are high and sharp, and as soon as I can, I’m making her eat until she bursts. Those eyes that just a second ago were startled, swiftly turn from surprised to angry and in a flash her irises turn from green to gold. The last thought of consciousness I have before she shocks me stupid is how pretty her eyes are when she’s mad. © Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

Excerpt Three...

Evan – 1928 – Los Angeles, CA I was alone – finally alone even in this sea of people– after so much time with the ones I loved breathing down my neck. It was like a vacation. I needed something of my own. A secret, a life, something to break away from my family. Something that didn’t say princess or royalty. Something that let me just be me. Singing was it for me. I was ending my five-song set with a favorite of mine, an old Jane Greene song when I saw him. I’d seen him around town a few times, when I was shopping by myself or when I watched a boxing match at the Olympic Auditorium, a scandalous activity for an unchaperoned young lady. But we’d never met. He was handsome. I even daresay beautiful, if you can call a man like that beautiful. He was tall – taller than anyone in the room by nearly a whole head –and built so powerfully he made the other men look like pitiful adolescents dressed up in their daddy’s clothes. It was difficult to tell if his hair was as dark as it seemed in the low light of the secret club, but it appeared black in the dim. Dressed to the nines in a brilliant black suit, he moved with grace through the crowd until he found his seat at the only open table in the joint, folding his huge frame into the chair with the grace of a jaguar. Papa had taken me to Brazil when I was just a little girl, and we saw the big cats roam the rainforests. He moved just like those jungle cats, scanning the room for prey and threats, watching everything with disinterest, as if he could take or leave the sights and sounds and people. As if he were bored in this raucous party that seemed to never end. © Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

Meet The Author...

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.

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Pursued Blitz

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Blurb:

Trapped by a mutual enemy, they have no choice but to work together. All Sophie wants to do is escape the prison that has held her for so long. Years of abuse have taken their toll on her. After a failed escape attempt, she is imprisoned with a bear shifter. Can the two of them work together to achieve their freedom? Captured by an enemy that wants to kill him, Callum is determined to free himself and the cute tiger shifter who shares his cell. It’s kill or be killed and he’s not ready to die. He definitely can’t stand the thought of anything happening to Sophie. She’s a gentle soul who despite her circumstances still has a good heart. As he fights to free them both, he begins to fall for the tempting tiger. Can he get them to safety and win her heart, or will his enemy destroy everything that he’s working for?

Read A Few Excerpts...

Callum forced himself to his feet. His knees wobbled, but he ignored it, wanting to see what was going to happen. Sophie stood next to him. He put his arm out, keeping himself protectively in front of her. At least ten men marched toward them holding tasers and clanking chains. Callum balled his fists at his sides. This couldn’t be good. The hunters stopped in front of the door. “Get back,” one of them said, holding his weapon at the ready. Callum took a step back and Sophie followed his lead. A man stepped forward and unlocked the cell door. He tossed a chain at Sophie then to Callum. They weren’t just chains, but handcuffs and ankle shackles. “Put them on.” Sophie stared at Callum with wide eyes, and he gave her a nod, now wasn’t the time to fight. There were too many of them. It would serve them better to cooperate for the moment so they could stay conscious long enough to come up with a plan that would work. He let out breath when she bent over to pick up the chains, securing the cuffs to her feet first then to her wrists. Callum did the same. He left the shackles loose enough on his joints that if he got the ability to shift back he could, hopefully breaking the bindings in the process. The hunter nodded at them and moved with his back against the bars until he stood behind them. Another man stepped inside, holding two needles. “Don’t move a muscle.” He popped the top of the syringe with his teeth and jammed the pointy end into Callum’s bicep, effectively squashing any hopes he had of shifting anytime soon. Then he did the same to Sophie. She winced but didn’t say anything as he plunged the needle into her arm. The man behind them nudged him. “Now go. Slowly. Sophie first. Don’t try anything funny either.” Callum watched as Sophie took a few steps forward, waddling as best she could in her constraints. He followed after her. She stopped next to the hospital bed and went to lean forward. “Keep moving,” a hunter said as he shoved her forward. “But—” “Now!” The man shoved her hard enough to make her stumble. “I just want to say goodbye,” Sophie said. The hunter’s hand whipped up, connecting with her face. She cried out and fell backward, colliding with the metal bars as she struggled to find her footing. Callum roared as he moved forward. Several tasers pressed against his skin, sending charges racing through him. He grunted as he collapsed to his knees. Hands grasped him, hauling him back to his feet. “Keep him conscious,” one man said. “I don’t feel like dragging his heavy ass across the complex.” “Walk,” another man said, shoving him forward. His muscles contracted painfully as he moved forward. If he weren’t as large as he was, the jolt would have incapacitated him completely. They were led out into the sterile white hallway and Callum had to blink against the offensive brightness of the lights. The hunters led them through the complex, down winding hallways until they reached a garage. A large truck with a semi type trailer sat in the middle with its metal doors open. “Get in,” a hunter said, shoving Sophie from behind. “You too,” the man from behind him said. He walked up the ramp and took a seat on a metal bench that had been screwed into the floor. Sophie sat down and stared at him from the opposite side. A door clanged shut and they both turned. Another man, most likely a shifter, was being led to their truck too. Callum had never met the man before, but there was something familiar about him. He nodded at the newcomer, silently asking Sophie who he was. She shrugged in response and motioned with her hands. The man stumbled up the ramp and eased himself down on the bench next to Callum. He grunted and leaned back, sticking one leg out in front of him. Blood seeped through the white linen on his thigh. Callum turned his attention back to the hunters, watching as they rolled the ramp up and someone tugged each door shut. The truck rocked back and forth and he heard a clicking sound, which he assumed was some sort of a lock. Then someone tapped on the outside of the truck and an engine roared to life.

Excerpt Two...

Sophie ran a hand through her hair and let out a breath. She fiddled with the remote as she went to the bed, turning the TV on. Flipping through the channels, she paused at a news broadcast. On the screen was an image of her, Callum, and Terrence in their animal forms. The newswoman went on to say how there had been no other sightings since that day, but residents in the area were still urged to use caution. “Looks like we caused quite the ruckus,” Callum said from behind her. Sophie jumped, not realizing he was so close. He made his way to the bed and got situated in the spot next to her. “I guess so,” she said, relaxing back into the pillows. “Is that a bad thing?” He was shirtless, his hair still wet from the shower. She bit her lip, allowing her gaze to sweep over him. “They won’t find us.” Callum shook his head. “I’m sure they will have some questions – they’ll just never get answered.” She forced her gaze back to the TV, watching for a few moments as the reporter expanded on the story. “It’s nothing to worry about,” Callum said. “The world doesn’t know about us. Shifting has its benefits. Speaking of shifting, you should probably do it again soon. The more practice the better, and the less painful it will be. Plus your body craves the transformation.” “There was something freeing about running as a tiger. Obviously I can’t transition here,” she said, motioning to the room. “No, I suppose not. But you could practice partial shifts.” “Partial shifts,” she repeated slowly. “What’s that? I mean, I know what it is, I’ve seen shifters do just their hands or their eyes, but do you think I’m ready for that? I’ve only shifted once in my entire life.” Callum shrugged. “Everyone has to start somewhere. It’s a good way to appease your animal half on nights like tonight where we can’t get out.” “How do I do it?” she asked, curious. “It’s not hard really. Why don’t we start with something easy like your eyes?” “Okay,” she said. “Close them.” She did as he said. “Good. Now think about your tiger’s eyes. How sharp and crisp everything is when you look through them.” Sophie did as he asked, remembering the way her vision had enhanced the other day when she’d been a tiger. Her face went numb and she inhaled a deep breath, recognizing the odd tingles zipping through her face as a sign of her change. “Did I do it?” she asked opening her eyes. The room looked different, not because it was but because she had indeed done it. Her vision and hearing had always been impeccable in her human form, but now as a cat it was even better. Leaning forward, she smiled. She could even hear the rhythmic thrum of Callum’s heart beating. She lifted her fingers to her face. Fur had spread across her cheekbones and her nose was flatter than it should be. Her ears were fuzzy and pointed too, but her vision was what she cared about. She’d done it. Maybe not as well as some of the others who could do just their eyes, but she’d take the small win that she had. “You did good,” Callum said as she met his gaze. A wide grin was on his face and he was closer than she thought he was. She swallowed as her eyes dipped down to his full lips, then looked away. She shook her head and let out a breath as her face tingled again, returning to normal. “That was pretty cool,” she said with a giggle. “I thought you might like it.” “How often can I do that? How long until I can do just my eyes?” she asked. “You can do it as often as you like. The more you do it, the better control you’ll have,” he said. “So you can do just your eyes?” Sophie asked. Callum closed his eyes, opening them a few seconds later. The stormy grey was gone, replaced by an onyx color. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched his face by his temples. He stayed where he was, letting her move her fingers down his cheek before she let her hand drop back to her lap. He shut his eyes again and reopened them, allowing them to return to their natural color. “The key is to transition the animal parts of you that will be most effective depending on what the situation calls for. My eyesight isn’t very different as a bear, so I probably wouldn’t change it regardless of the situation. But say we were in a fight, I’d focus on my hands.” He flexed his fist and Sophie watched as hair sprouted out and his hand grew, doubling in size as it became a giant paw. “A good hit with my paw will knock anyone out.” Sophie reached out and trailed her fingers over his furry paw. It was soft to the touch, but she had no doubt that it could do a lot of damage if Callum wanted it to. He curled his paw inward, gently clasping her palm as if they were holding hands. She licked her lips, surprised by the tenderness of it. His bones snapped and realigned. The bear paw was gone, replaced by a human hand. Callum’s thumb rubbed tiny circles onto the back of her hand, causing her to swallow. It felt nice – better than nice. Heat raced through her, awakening parts of her body she’d never thought any man would ever touch. Callum shook his head and released her hand, turning back to the TV. She let out a breath, wondering what in the world had just happened as she stared at the screen. The news was still on and they’d moved onto another story that she had no interest in.

Meet The Author...

Bethany Shaw lives in Ohio with her husband and two kids. Writing has always been her passion and she loves sharing her stories with readers. When she isn't writing, she is spending time with her family. They enjoy bike rides, bowling, and board games. Sign up for Bethany Shaw's newsletter and stay up to date on new releases, teasers, and sales. You can sign up for her newsletter by following the link below. http://eepurl.com/75NvD https://www.facebook.com/BethanyShawNovels http://bethanyshawnovels.tumblr.com/

 

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Untitled Beauty

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Blurb:

Eleven. A name. A title. A sentence passed. If you aren’t a Beauty, you’re less than a person. You’re a commodity known as a Potential… and you only have so many chances to qualify as a human being. In her seventeen years, Eleven has seen the best and worst in humanity. She’s been passed around and abused by the bad. She’s hoped and dreamed for the good. And she’s despaired for the hand she’s been dealt. Now she’s been purchased by a wealthy man who has the ability to improve her life and help her become a Beauty – if she can put up with his erratic and controlling personality for long enough, that is. Complicating things is the appearance of a stunningly beautiful young man with amethyst eyes who treats Eleven to the rarest form of attention for a Potential: kindness. Does Eleven trust her powerful owner to help her escape this life of servitude and enslavement, or does she gamble everything on the enigmatic young man who seems to offer her more than she could ever imagine possible?    

Read A Few Excerpt...

I hate how beauty permits enslaving the beasts.

With money and a sponsor, even the ugliest person can have flawlessness and receive anything they’d want out of life. With good looks, they can live a full life. The old days when anyone could be ugly and still live happily and normally are long gone. Flawlessness and beauty is the only way to survive. Flawlessness comes naturally with good genes or money. By any means possible, Potentials have to find a way to obtain beauty.

This new life offers five chances to earn the title of Beauty. Five measly chances to prove your worth to people who hold the right to exist peacefully in this cruel world in their porcelain-like hands.

Excerpt Two...

Play by the rules when dealing with Beauties. That is the only way to survive.

My true name isn’t Eleven, but, I’ll let my new family decide what they’ll call me.

Here I am – seventeen years old and an Eleven. So close and yet so far from being beautiful.

I tug on the chain hanging from my neck in irritation and bite my lower lip for a second before looking up towards the tiny hole in my cell door, my only source of light.

I may be a Potential, but my true name is Grace. And I will achieve beauty by any means possible.

Excerpt Three...

“I want to see you. Won’t you please lift your head?” His kind voice and false modesty are making me sick. He only wants to look at me to satisfy himself. He only wants to see what I look like because he’s flawless. He’s sicker than the other ones. Maybe not as sick as Shawn – I have the scabs on my lips to prove that – but being less sadistic than a controlling megalomaniac isn’t that impressive. But before I can tell my body to resist, I jerk up my head and focus my sharp hazel eyes on his. Recognition. A long-forgotten memory surges into my mind, but it is driven away by a sharp pain at my neck. As the memory retreats, waves of pain replace it until the world is made of agony and darkness. Then only darkness.  

Meet The Author...

C.E. Wilson was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, grew up in Millersville, Pennsylvania, and has been living in Pittsburgh since 2009. For the first few years living in Pittsburgh, she was an English teacher. Her first book, "Oath of Servitude," was published in 2012. In 2013, she quit teaching to be a full time author and hasn't looked back since. She loves spending time with her daughter and husband.   Don't forget to follow her on social media!   Newsletter Sign Up: http://cewilsonauthor.us13.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=13002be52c37d105324235c89&id=eab684ac09 C.E. Wilson’s Dreamers (Street Team): https://www.facebook.com/groups/588267398022142/ “Like” me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cewilsonauthor Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/CEWilson Twitter: https://twitter.com/CEWilson1 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cewilsonauthor/  

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Tyranny Review

To Save the World, He Must Trust Her in the Magic of What If?

The Goddess of Delphi is a new series from Gemma Brocato, and begins 

with TYRANNY…

Greek Muses must join forces with one non-believing mortal man to prevent the hostile takeover of Olympus and save the world from peril.

“Goddess, she wasn’t the type to just fall into bed on a first date, but if Jax asked, she’d surrender.”

Synopsis:

One man, one muse, one romance to save the world

Immortal librarian Clio has existed for thousands of years. Her purpose—to influence and inspire mortals. Now as one has inspired her, a battle is mounting between the Muses and a god who care little for the plight of man. A hostile takeover is imminent at Olympus Enterprises.

History professor Jax Callahan is battling his own uncertainties. His previous employer’s refusal to heed his warnings results in a tragic loss of life. Blaming himself, he no longer believes he can make a difference.

Tyranny will stop at nothing to appease her father and succeed in taking over Olympus and the world. To save mankind, Clio must reveal herself as a Muse to Jax, the man she’s fallen in love with. Facing the end of humanity as they know it, she must convince him to trust in the magic of what if. Because failure spells doom for everyone.

My Review: Holy Zeus! Tyranny was a awesome take on modern day muses and Olympus. Jax and Clio were one steamy couple however hidden secrets could destroy both of them if they aren't careful. I enjoyed reading every minute of this book. I love Greek Mythology and Tyranny had no shortage of it. I won't tell you how it all works out but, I will tell you that Gemma Brocato can write Greek Mythology for me any time. 

Excerpt for TYRANNY (Goddess of Delphi Book 1)

God knew, he’d worked for years to get the bureaucratic idiots to hear his ideas. He could have circumvented the problem long ago if he’d been able to make the right people listen. The government’s idea of a diplomatic solution only served to edge the world closer to a massive war. “I couldn’t convince anyone to consider the logical alternative, a negotiated settlement where the Bulgarian people are protected. There is no stopping the Five Nations.” The statement alone made his gut churn.

“There has to be.” Clio rose from her seat, moved to her desk, and retrieved a scrap of paper. With graceful movements, she returned to his side. She handed him the document. “You need to read this. It will change your mind.”

Battling the skepticism that had been his hallmark since he’d left GeoPoly, he took the sheet from her hand. It was an e-mail. The chilling message mentioned destruction, war, and an end to mankind. “Who is this Pierus?”

“He’s a demi-god who thought his nine daughters were better than the daughters of Zeus, my sisters and me.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Zeus is never nice when he’s pissed off. He turned Pierus’s daughters into magpies. Pierus has been seeking to restore them ever since.”

“Whoa! Zeus is your dad? Like, Zeus Zeus? God of Gods, Zeus?” Okay, his world shifted from I can handle her as a Muse to what the fuck have I gotten myself into? He shook his head in denial but then recalled the sight of the bird this morning, and more recently outside Clio’s bedroom window.

“The same. Anyway, Pierus resurfaced recently and challenged us to a contest to return his brats to human form. It’s his version of a hostile takeover of Olympus. He wins, and he gets dominion over all immortals. And his daughters would be unleashed on humanity.” Clio shuddered. “The effect on mortals will be dire. They’ll live up to their names, like Tyranny, Strife, Mayhem. You get the idea.”

“Can he do it?” Aw, shit. That sounded like he was a believer. And maybe, just maybe…

Clio frowned. “He can if we fail at the challenge he’s set for us.”

“Have any of you failed?”

She shrugged. “I’m the first.”

“His message says one Muse, one man. How do you know I’m the man?”

“The magpies keep appearing. You mentioned a run in with a crazy old man and a bird. I believe that was Pierus. The other night in the library when it was storming so badly, I spied the image of Pierus and his skanky daughter in a flash of lightning.” She shook her head again. “Tonight when we walked past the street musician, that was Pierus in disguise.”

 The dotted line from his run-in with the bird to Clio’s story just filled in like a solid fucking black dart.

A uthor Bio:

Gemma's favorite desk accessories for many years were a circular wooden token, better known as a 'round tuit,' and a slip of paper from a fortune cookie proclaiming her a lover of words; some day she'd write a book. All it took was a transfer to the United Kingdom, the lovely English springtime, and a huge dose of homesickness to write her first novel. Once it was completed and sent off with a kiss, even the rejections addressed to 'Dear Author' were gratifying.

After returning to America, she spent a number of years as a copywriter, dedicating her skills to making insurance and the agents who sell them sound sexy. Eventually, her full-time job as a writer interfered with her desire to be a writer full-time and she left the world of financial products behind to pursue a career as a romance author.

Gemma focuses mainly on contemporary and paranormal romance, with an occasional detour into science fiction romance. Her titles are available in digital and print-on-demand at all major retailers.

Find Gemma at: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads