Release Blitz: His Dark Canvas by Alexandrea Weis

Title: His Dark Canvas

Author: Alexandrea Weis

Genre: Dark Erotic Paranormal Romance

Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Blurb:
Ella Winston is a talented chef with a problem--the slightest touch can reveal anyone’s darkest secrets.

Hired to cook for the artist, Ren Plancharde, she struggles to keep her ability under wraps.

After accidently uncovering Ren’s underground activities, the eccentric painter offers Ella a glimpse into his world of pleasure and pain. Intrigued, he decides to make Ella a part of his sinister Corde Noire Society, but his chef isn’t quite ready to commit.

Absolute submission isn’t all Ren wants from the stubborn woman. He has big plans for her gift, too. The only question is … will Ella be willing to give in to his desires when the time comes?

The darkness within can hide a lifetime of secrets.

From New Orleans, Alexandrea Weis was raised in the motion picture industry and began writing stories at the age of eight. In college she studied nursing and went on to teach at a local university. After several years in the medical field, she decided to pick up the pen once again and began her first novel, To My Senses. Since that time she has published many novels. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning books, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable.

Alexandrea Weis is also a certified/permitted wildlife rehabber with the La. Wildlife and Fisheries. When she is not writing, she rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She is married; they live in New Orleans.

Author Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoralexandreaweis/
Webpage: http://www.alexandreaweis.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/alexandreaweis
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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1211671.Alexandrea_Weis
Fan Club: https://www.facebook.com/groups/216096988549209/?fref=nf
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexandreaweis/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/apwrncs/

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Through the haze of her apple martinis, Ella spotted someone across the wide dining room. He was different from the other patrons there to celebrate the restaurant’s two-year anniversary. With an arrogant walk, he strutted across the stone floor. Lean, muscular, and blessed with one of those bodies women would always notice, he had dark blond hair and disquieting dark green eyes. He was the kind of guy who knew he was good-looking and let everyone else know it, too. She wasn’t usually attracted to that type, but this man—his confidence intrigued her.

“You’re Ella, Ella Winston,” he said in a voice like dark chocolate fondue: deep, and wickedly sexy. 

“Yeah.” She almost dropped her drink. “I’m the sous chef.”

“I know. Marcus told me.”

As his smile sank to the depths of her belly, he extended his hand, but Ella ignored it.

Don’t touch him. You know what happens when you touch them. 

“So, how do you know Marcus?” Ella quickly asked, hoping to make up for her rudeness.

He laughed, looking her over. Above the din in the room, she could sense something different about his laugh. Unlike the insincere chortle of others, this man’s laugh got to her. 

She was having an unusual physical reaction, something that never happened to her. When most men laughed, Ella usually ran away.

“Marcus and I share the same friends.”

“What friends are those?” she asked, craving another martini.

“The wealthy kind, who like to support the arts.” He raised a green bottle of sparkling water in his hand. “I’m a painter. Marcus and I know a lot of people who like to pretend they’re patrons and keep us gainfully employed.”

“Painter?” Ella shrugged, finding it hard to believe Marcus knew any painters. “What do you paint?”

“Portraits of women. Usually with very little clothing.”

Oh yeah, I need another drink. “Is that lucrative?”

“For me it is.”

Her eyes wandered around the dining room, desperate to find a rescue. Ella needed to get away from this man before she said or did something really stupid.

“Do you like art?” he pressed.

“Some art. I think it would depend on the passion I see in a painting.”

“The passion in a painting?” That laugh again. Her toes tingled. Not good. “You sound like a painter, Ms. Winston.”

The martini glass in her hand suddenly weighed a ton. “Isn’t painting a passion for an artist, like cooking is a passion for a chef? Having a passion is a healthy thing. It reminds us that we have a soul.”

    He nodded, seemingly approving of her drunken ramblings. “That’s very profound and also very true. I think you have a lot of talents yet to be discovered, Ella. May I call you Ella?”

“Ah, sure. Ella is fine.” Her mouth went dry. “What makes you think I have any talents outside of cooking?”

“I have a sense for these things.”

She tensed. Can he tell? The same thought always haunted her when she met new people. Ella fought so hard to keep her secret under control. Time to make a run for it.

“Don’t let Marcus know I have other talents. He’ll probably fire me.”

She was about to depart when he stopped her. He leaned in, and she could just make out the small cleft in his pointy chin. “I promise, if you ever need a job, I’ll hire you.”

His mouth was so close she could have kissed his perfect, thin lips. Frightened by the notion, Ella backed away. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hope you do, Ella.”

She should have done a million different things: asked his name, gotten his phone number, or stayed to flirt with him some more. Instead, Ella walked away. She figured it was one of those moments in life she would live to regret. Fortunately, Ella found the bar and drowned her disappointment in another apple martini. 

Ella reasoned that was the way of it. You meet people and move on, and one day, if you’re lucky, you meet the interesting ones again.

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Release Boost: The Found by Cole McCade

Title: The Found

Series: Crow City #2

Author: Cole McCade

Genre: Dark Erotica/Contemporary Romance  

 Release Date: August 22, 2016

Blurb

Witness to a murder. Kidnapped by a monster. Life hanging on a whim. Willow Armitage’s world was already falling apart; between getting fired and caring for her chronically ill father, she’s had little room for anything but survival. But that survival hangs in the balance the night she stumbles into a back alley – and watches a stranger die at the hands of the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.

Lethal. Powerful. Unstable. Terrifying. The contract killer known only as Priest is a dangerous unknown, and when Willow wakes tied to a chair in his hideout, the only thing she sees in his fox-gold eyes is death. Yet for Priest, Willow is a dilemma: an innocent, a saint among the sinners he cuts down in the streets of Crow City. His code of honor forbids shedding innocent blood. Releasing her will send her straight to the police. The only answer is a warped game, and his promise: that he will find the darkness inside her, expose it, and prove that deep down, everyone is just as monstrous as he…and just as worthy of death.

Yet he unearths not a monster, but a smoldering and secret desire – one that has always terrified Willow, and may be her undoing. His touch sets her alight. His strength burns through her like flame. And his control melts her each time he binds her virgin body, possesses her, teaches her the strength in weakness and the passion in submission. But that passion may be her damnation, and in the end Willow must choose: Priest’s love, or her own life.

When his every kiss is pure sin…can she resist damnation long enough for Priest to find his way to redemption?

TRIGGER WARNING 18+: This story contains content centered around non-consent, bodily autonomy, sexual assault, bodily functions, and violence. Please focus on self-care above all, and don't be afraid to put the book down if you need to in order to protect yourself. You come first, always.

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Excerpt

His fingers grazed the curve of her waist. With a gasp, she snapped her eyes open. He met her gaze, fox-gold turned hot as melting amber, fierce and animal and stripping her more bare than that exposed, naked flesh. She felt like a butterfly pinned to a board, held by his gaze, her limbs going slack and her struggles stopping against her will. She hardly felt it, when he hooked a fingertip under the bunched edge of her tank top—then ripped with such effortless strength, the threads of the side seam snapping apart one after the other, until there was nothing left of her tank top but rags of cloth. No, she hardly felt that…but she felt it when he teased those rags from underneath the ropes, as every scrap of cloth stroked and washed against her skin until she was nothing but a trembling tangle of sensitivity and frozen breaths building tighter and tighter in her chest.



And she felt it when that taunting, teasing fingertip hooked in her panties, slipping into the opening just above her thigh, and she realized just what he intended to do.



“Don’t touch me.”



Suddenly she could move again—and she writhed against the ropes, fighting to squirm away. But she had barely an inch of slack, nowhere to go but against the ropes, hanging in midair and so fucking helpless she would scream with sheer rage if she didn’t want to cry with sheer hopelessness. Was he enjoying this? Enjoying watching her struggle? Enjoying how her skin tightened and pulled and her nipples swelled and her breaths came shallow with every touch, her fucking disobedient body whispering dirty thing, dirty thing, give me more of that dirty thing while her mind and heart screamed no, no, not like that, never like that?



Was he enjoying having her at his mercy, unable to escape his every touch?



His fingers dug into the fabric of her panties. Clenched it against his fist. Pulled. Cloth creased, bit, burrowed into her dirty, dirty thing, her wet dirty thing, her pulsing dirty thing, and she was a fucking dirty thing when she arched off the seat and cried out and whimpered and mewled, as he dragged the cloth against her and all she felt was sweet-rough friction and that slickness, sickness, wet and running like a licking tongue.



“D-don’t,” she cried again, and yet he only pulled harder, the panties so much worse than the rope when every fold and crease molded to her flesh like liquid fire and left nothing untouched. “Don’t!”



He paused, held that steady pressure, keeping her on the end of a taut-stretched wire. “Are you a virgin, firefly?” he growled.



She spat in his face.



Panting, body heaving, she drew back and spat in his face, and watched with a sort of foggy, dazed satisfaction as it landed in a wet streak on his cheek, dripping down his bronzed skin like a tear. He remained unmoved, watching her steadily, waiting, holding her dangling from the one hand as if he hardly felt her weight and those damnable fingers pulling her panties against her flesh.



“My body is not your business,” she hissed.



“Right now, your body is my property.” He slid a fingertip down into the crease between her hip and thigh, the place where the seam of her panties normally cut in whenever she sat, moved, shifted; there was something too personal about that touch, so close and yet so far, a threat that made her shrink back even as that feeling inside her nearly exploded, that hollow feeling that seemed like a rapacious beast, a dragon with an open maw and empty gullet that was hungry, so hungry to be full. “I want an answer.”



He bunched her panties into his hand again, curling the fabric in stretched wrinkles against his palm—and this time when he pulled he gave no quarter, a single sharp rip and a sound of cloth tearing like tape pulling off the spool, high and shrill. There was a moment’s painful bite, a muted cry welling in her throat, and then the pressure eased as the tatters of her panties fell, forgotten, to the floor.



Still he watched her. And she, naked with nowhere to hide, curled into herself; she felt her nudity like a presence, like a thing touching her and twisting over her flesh to force her to feel every moment of her exposure, every moment of her vulnerability and helplessness. Priest said nothing. He didn’t need to. He never needed to. When he wanted an answer, he got one, and would wait her out as he had before, implacable and unmoving and relentless. She had always imagined men like him to be all force, all bluster, all violence and snarling and threats.



She was quickly learning that silence—silence and careful, metered application of just enough strength to drive his point home—was just as effective as force.



And just as frightening.



Dangling from his grip like a puppy, she hung her head. Anything not to meet those piercing eyes; anything not to feel the shame of giving in to the quiet demand in his gaze; anything to make this end, so he would stop tormenting her and leave her alone.



“…yes,” she mumbled. Still he didn’t speak, or put her down. Defeat sparked into frustration, and she glared at him from under the fall of her hair. “Yes, all right? Are you happy? Is that what you fucking wanted to know?”



“Yes,” he said simply, and lowered her to the floor.

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Author Bio

Cole McCade is a New Orleans-born Southern boy without the Southern accent, currently residing somewhere in Seattle. He spends his days as a suit-and-tie corporate consultant and business writer, and his nights writing contemporary romance and erotica that flirt with the edge of taboo—when he’s not being tackled by two hyperactive cats.

He also writes genre-bending science fiction and fantasy tinged with a touch of horror and flavored by the influences of his multiethnic, multicultural, multilingual background as Xen Sanders. He wavers between calling himself bisexual and calling himself queer, but no matter what word he uses he’s a staunch advocate of LGBTQIA representation and visibility in genre fiction. And while he spends more time than is healthy hiding in his writing cave instead of hanging around social media, you can generally find him in these usual haunts:

EMAIL: blackmagic@blackmagicblues.com 

TWITTER

FACEBOOK PROFILE

TUMBLR

FACEBOOK FAN PAGE

WEBSITE & BLOG

He’s recently launched the Speak Project, an online open-access platform where anyone can anonymously or openly share or read stories of abuse – a way for survivors to overcome the silencing tactics of abusers to speak out against what was done to them, and let other survivors know they’re not alone.

http://blackmagicblues.com/speak/

He also runs an advice column called Dammit, Cole, where he occasionally answers questions about everything from romance and dating to the culture of hypermasculinity, from the perspective of a male romance author:

http://www.blackmagicblues.com/category/dammit-cole/

Looking for more? You can get early access to cover reveals, blurbs, contests, and other exclusives by joining the McCade’s Marauders street team at:

http://www.facebook.com/groups/mccadesmarauders/

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ARC Review: Ravage by Tillie Cole

Ravage by Tillie Cole

My rating: 5 of 5 stars




You can’t help who you love, when its real it just is and nothing will stand in the way of your one true love.

Valentin was taken as a teen and made a prisoner along with his younger sister. Only known as prisoner 194 Valentin knows the only way to save his sister is his obedience to the one person who has turned him into a monster—the ultimate killing machine.

Zoya Kostava escaped the brutal attack that destroyed her entire family. Hiding in secret now twenty-five she is finally able to come out of hiding when she hears that the man who murdered her family is dead. But just as one threat disappears another rears its head in the form of a man who both scares her and intrigues her all at the same time. He captures her intent on turning her over to his mistress in order to save his sister, but she sees his soul, his heart and finds that her greatest enemy may actually be her greatest love. With so much to lose can they save their people and survive long enough to save the love they have found.

My Review:

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder—Zoya proves that when she sees passed the scared monster who kidnaps her to the man underneath. True love has a strength that can’t be denied. I loved the relationship that builds between Valentin and Zoya even though he starts off as her torturer. There are definitely some dark aspects to this story when Valentin tortures Zoya for information about her brother he uses cold and heat but then decides to try sexual torture as it was done to him by his mistress. This tactic kind of backfires on poor Valentin because it only proves how much he wants her and Zoya shows him that he is not the monster he has been told he is. I thought it was so sweet when they steal each other’s first kiss.

Though there is a long standing hatred between their families they see passed it and find love in their hearts for each other.

I loved when Zoya and her brother finally see each other for the first time. The way he tries to protect her and be there for her warms my heart. When the whole Bratva of Tolsoi and Kostava’s brings Valentin into the fold when their first instinct was to reject him because of his family ties brought tears to my eyes.

This series has quickly become one of my favorites, definitely a dark erotic read but in the end the good guys win and the couple gets their HEA though trying times are still ahead for them their love preservers.

I look forward to the next book in the series which I believe should be about 152 who is Valentin sister still in captivity.

RECEIVED AN ARC FROM NETGALLEY IN EXCHANGE FOR AN HONEST REVIEW.

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ARC Review: REAP (Scarred Souls #2) by Tillie Cole

Reap by Tillie Cole

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Reap (Scarred Souls #2) by Tillie Cole

Prisoner 221 has been held captive since the age of eight when he was taken along with his identical twin brother. They were experimented on made to take an obedience drug that forces them to obey every command of their captors while erasing any memory of who they were before. 221 can no longer remember his life before—all he knows is torture, destruction and death.

Talia Tolstaia is a Russian Bratva princess. All her life she has dreamed of finding a one true love, a lasting love, a bond stronger than all others. She is loyal to her family but feels smothered and overwhelmed needing a break from her family obligations she goes away to their family vacation home for some much needed peace. Her quiet is short lived when her brother brings a captive to their home and hides him out in the basement below the peaceful vacation house. When Talia first sets eyes on the bulky beast of a man who is her family’s enemy she can’t help but be intrigued by his story. He’s damaged and scarred physically and mentally, Talia knows she should hate him, fear him but she can’t help but love him.

My Review:
The story of Talia and Zaal’s love was emotionally draining and I loved it. His pain calls to her, she wants to help him. The only way she can is to cleanse him physically but in the process she is cleansing his soul. Washing away his dark memories with the touch of her soft hands. Their bond is instantaneous and grows stronger the more time they spend together.


"You are…for me?" – "I am…for you. Forever."


Emotional, heart breaking story of lost and broken souls brought together in an unexpected way.
My heart broke when I realized along with Talia that Zaal hasn’t seen the sun in years. How can someone live without seeing the sun or having real human contact in years. Unimaginable cruelty. By the end of the book Zaal begins to remember once the drugs leave his system. He gets his revenge but there are other threats lurking in the shadows. I loved how Luka and Zaal share a bond of common pain though not blood they are truly brothers by experience.

I look forward to the next book in the series Ravage. All the books can be read as standalone. This was the first book for me from Tillie Cole I will definitely go back and read Luka’s story Raze.

RECEIVED AN ARC FROM NETGALLEY IN EXCHANGE FOR AN HONEST REVIEW.




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Blog Tour: Redeeming Rhys by Mary E. Palmerin

Title: REDEEMING RHYS

A Dark Novel

Author: Mary E. Palmerin

Publication Date: January 19, 2016

Blurb

Are people born pure?

Is evil learned, or is it birthed into one's soul, like a fallen angel who was previously part of graciousness?

Rhys is decayed, black, and bad. He cut distortion out of his life years before, but he let her live; his only way to gain redemption once more.

As his sinful needs blanket him with dread, he seeks penance from the soul he saw as a second chance.

Is absolution too late for Rhys?

**Warning, dark scenes depicted heavily throughout this novel. Read the Author's disclaimer carefully before proceeding with this title.**

Amazon US | Amazon UK

About Mary E. Palmerin

Facebook | Goodreads | Website

International bestselling author of the Monster series. Writer of dark, taboo tales. Lover of tattoos, art, and a hopeless book junkie.

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Excerpt Reveal: Legend by Katy Evans

SEATTLE

Maverick

‘Not in a million years, kid.’

‘No.’

‘NOT INTERESTED.’

‘Get the fuck out of my face!’

Four cities in two days, and more doors slammed in my face than I can count. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and scratch another name from my list.

Hopping on to a bus and hopping off thirty minutes later, I scan the mix of both commercial and apartment numbers down the block, then knock on my last door.

“Coach Hennesy?”

He’s a tall man, his hair like pepper, clad in sweats, with a yellow timer hanging from his neck. He gives me a questioning look.

“I’m your next champion.”

He laughs, but then he must see something on my face. In my stance. Thirst, resoluteness, guts. Maybe I’m wearing my balls in my eyes. He falls sober and swings the door wide-open. “Come on in.”

He doesn’t ask for my name.

I guess with one look, he knows he’ll find my name in the dictionary, right next to “determined.”

He leads me to his garage. “Where’d you train before?” he asks.

“Self-taught. I watch videos.”

He scoffs, then shrugs. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”

I eye the equipment across the room. The heavy bag hangs from the ceiling, the leather worn from other fighters before me. There’s a boxing dummy at the corner. Speed bag. Weights. A whole private gym set up here. I drop both my bags, then zip open my backpack and start to put on the gloves without bothering to remove my hoodie.

“Take that off; I need to know what you’ve got. Need to see your form,” Hennesy says.

I clench my jaw. Slowly unzip my hoodie. Take it off and glance past my shoulder, shifting to keep my back from the coach’s view. The guy is clearing the fighting area. Good. We can get down to business. He walks to me when I face him.

“Give it over.” I hand him my hoodie and he tosses it aside, then crosses his arms and looks at me. “Speedball first.”

I inhale, position myself before the speedball, and hit. Wham.

I keep on hitting, lightning fast, my fists making the bag fly.

I would have warmed up first, but I’ve been doing this for days, and I won’t stop until I’ve got myself a coach—and not even then.

I’ve got momentum now, and I pick up speed, my arms moving back and forth, working the speed bag until it’s moving so fast you can’t even see it.

I’m starting to sweat; it’s stuffy in here, but I can’t stop. I need him to take me on. I need one yes to get me in the ring. Just one yes and I’ll do the rest.

“Time.” Hennesy stops me. He signals to the boxing dummy and the heavy bag. “Let’s see you pound the bag.”

I swing out and slam my knuckles on the bag, putting everything into my fists. Thack, thump, thud.

Hennesy’s composure starts to crumble with excitement. “Holy shit, boy!”

I’m getting in to it. I’m in the zone—where it’s just me, the leather brown bag, my fists, and nothing else but slamming the spot I’m looking at.

“I’ve seen enough.” He stops the bag from swinging. His eyes glassy. “Fill this out.”

I pull off my right glove and grab a pen as he slaps a paper onto a desk at the corner. I bend down to fill out my name and contact information and realize, too late, that I exposed the tattoo on my back.

“You’re his boy.”

I freeze midsignature.

A second ticks by. Then two.

I slowly set the pen down and take one last look at the paper. I might not get to fill it out after all. I turn.

His face has paled.

I wait it out for a few beats. Maybe he’s different. Maybe he can deal with it.

He tosses my jacket at me. “Get out. Nobody wants to see you fight.”

I frown fiercely as I catch my jacket in my fist and edge forward, equally mad now. “That’s too damn bad. ’Cause I’m fighting anyway.”

I keep my eyes on him as I pull off my left glove, shove my arms into my hoodie, and zip up.

I walk out and the door slams behind me. I clench my jaw, and I shove my gloves into my bag and spot the old, black gloves inside too. I push them down into the bottom of the duffel bag and zip it up.

The season starts in a week and a half. No coach? No fight. I can’t even get into a gym.

But I won’t let anyone or anything keep me from the ring.

I pick up a penny from the ground.

And I spot a girl in workout clothes across the street, tying her shoelaces. She’s a step away from the gym door. I straighten, pull my hoodie over my head, and cross the street, following after her like I belong.

Meet Maverick “The Avenger” Cage in Legend, the newest stand alone in the REAL series releasing February 9th!

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Blurb

Maverick “the Avenger” Cage wants to rise to the top and become a legend in the ring. Though he keeps his identity well guarded, he's known on the fighting circuit as the new kid with a chip on his shoulder and a tattoo on his back that marks him as trouble. He's got a personal score to settle with the Underground's one and only Remington "Riptide" Tate.

As Mav trains, he meets a young girl—the only other new person in the town--and sparks fly. When things get heated between them, he finds out she's none other than Reese Dumas, the cousin of Remington Tate’s wife. A girl who's supposed to root against him and a girl he's supposed to stay away from.

But Maverick fights for the woman in his heart, and the monsters in his blood. The world’s eyes are on them and the victor will go down in history as the ultimate fighting champion; the ultimate LEGEND.

* LEGEND is the 6th and final installment of the REAL series, but it can also be read as standalone or after the three Remington and Brooke books (Real/Mine/Remy.)

Real (Book One) The Real Series

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Mine  (Book Two) The Real Series

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Remy  (Book Three) The Real Series

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Rogue  (Book Four) The Real Series

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Ripped  (Book Five) The Real Series

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About the Author:

Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!

Website: www.katyevans.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans

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Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com