- About Me and Social Media Links
- Review Policy
- THIS BLOG USES AFFILIATE LINKS
- THIS BLOG RECEIVES FREE REVIEW COPIES OF BOOKS
- Become a Tour Host for Sapphyria's Book Promotions...
- BOOK TRAILERS
- 2022 Craving for Cozies Challenges #CravingCozies
- 2022 Literary Escapes Challenge
- 2023 Literary Escapes Challenge
- 2023 Craving for Cozies Challenges #CravingCozies
Thursday, August 31, 2023
Book Tour Schedule ~ The Demons of Montmartre by Laurence Raphael Brothers (Nora Simeon Investigations, Book 4) ~ @lbrothers @MirrorWorldPub #UrbanFantasy #UF
Piper Rayne has revealed the gorgeous covers for Something like Lust! @PiperRayneRocks @valentine_pr_ #Football #SportsRomance #Romance
Piper Rayne has revealed the gorgeous covers for Something like Lust!
Releasing: December 12, 2023
Cover Design: Hang Le
Book two in a brand new series by Piper Rayne. Something Like Lust is a One-Night Stand gone wrong, football, sports romance story.
Full Blurb Coming Soon!
Apple Books: http://bit.ly/3ESI4l8
Google Play: https://bit.ly/3IWdycL
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/3Ja6wAW
Meet Piper Rayne:
Piper Rayne is a USA Today Bestselling Author duo who write "heartwarming humor with a side of sizzle" about families, whether that be blood or found. They both have e-readers full of one-clickable books, they're married to husbands who drive them to drink, and they're both chauffeurs to their kids. Most of all, they love hot heroes and quirky heroines who make them laugh, and they hope you do, too!
Connect with Piper Rayne:
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/PiperRaynesUnicorns
Read an Excerpt:
Drakon heaved himself through the open third-story window. His black cloak flowed about him, concealing him in shadow. His muscles quivered from the rapid ascent. Below, the clamp of boots and a muttered conversation passed beneath the window and then receded.
Another close call.
This made the fourth such encounter of the night. He lived by a rule: two close calls and he would abort a mission. Each time he ignored this simple rule, something untoward happened. His survival instincts screamed for him to turn back and return another night but time was short, and he was dangerously close to missing his deadline. The manor grounds were an ant colony of activity, and it took him longer than expected to make it this far. Seconds dripped by, increasing his chances of being discovered.
Discovery meant death.
Silently, he settled into the wooden floorboards. No groan of protest announced his entry. Crouching, Drakon pulled the cowl of his cloak lower and drifted wraith-like into the chamber. A breeze swept inward. The cool, crisp air did nothing to purify the overwhelming stench of incense hanging in the bedchamber.
A light orb floated overhead, casting the chamber in a warm yellow glow, elongating the shadows in which Drakon hid. Art canvases of all sizes hung on the stone walls, ornate furniture adorned every square inch, and a massive four-poster bed overflowing with furs stood at the chamber’s center.
Drakon curled his lip in disdain. The warden’s blatant show of wealth was in contrast to the poverty of the people he lorded over. Another warden charged with the well-being of commoners lining his pockets from the people’s labor. He hadn’t expected much humility from a noble, and even less from a mage such as the Jenna City Warden.
Drakon’s orders from the king were clear. The warden was to appear to have died of natural causes. Drakon wasn’t privy to the transgression the man committed to garner himself a spot on the king’s kill list. The reason was inconsequential. He didn’t care, nor did he mete out judgments. The Royal Council dealt with such things. He was but the gnarled hand of death employed to dole out the punishment. Drakon recalled the death and poverty he witnessed while traversing the Commoner District of the city and grimaced. He would enjoy killing this warden.
The bedchamber was empty, as Drakon knew it would be. He committed his mark’s routine to memory. The warden was middle-aged, but his habit of nightly drinking and debauchery was legendary throughout the Kingdom of Somorrah.
Drakon’s gaze searched the chamber for the warden’s favorite vice. There. A pitcher and glass sat on a table next to the bed; remnants of red wine stained the bottom of the glass. Drakon removed a vial from his cloak. A colorless, odorless liquid sloshed within its clear container. He would add one drop into the glass, and the deed would be done. He would send word of the mission’s completion to the king. Afterward, he might take an overdue leave of absence.
He moved toward the table. Laughter and shuffling footsteps from outside the closed door froze him halfway across the chamber. The doorknob turned, and the door banged open. Drakon threw himself into the shadows of a wardrobe. Sounds of merriment drifted into the room and then were muted as the door snicked shut.
The warden was early. Drakon hadn’t expected him until nearer to dawn. He cursed inwardly. He couldn’t wait in the shadows until the man passed out. The king made his instructions all too clear. The warden was to die before sunrise. Drakon gritted his teeth. He would have to improvise. He hated improvising. It reduced his chances of an undetected escape, but what other choice was there?
He pocketed the vial and pressed against the wardrobe. The warden, red-faced and inebriated, stumbled on unsteady legs toward the bed, hauling a struggling woman behind him. He was small and slender, manual labor having never sculpted the muscles of his body. Like all wardens, he was also a magical mage. The man’s diminutive physique was no indication of his power.
Alabaster skin inked with tattoos peeked from the warden’s robes, testaments of his magical aptitude. Only his face was unmarred. Each tattoo was a rune etched to guard the warden against the harmful effects of drawing the goddess’s power. Such power came with a price, and the wardens protected themselves with the tattoos.
The warden’s hair was a dirty blond, and his skin was pale but not an unearthly translucent. A mage’s hair, eyes, and skin lightened with their growth in magic. This mage wasn’t as strong as the others Drakon killed. His tongue prodded a void a molar once occupied as a reminder of past battles against magical enemies. Thank the goddess for small mercies.
A sob drew his attention to the woman the warden dragged in tow. She was waif-like. Oily black hair concealed her face, and her chestnut skin identified her as a commoner. Her threadbare dress was torn at the neck and thin enough to see through. She was probably a slave. He resigned himself to the possibility of collateral. From the look of her, death would be preferable to her current lot in life. He could give her that escape, at least.
The warden yanked the woman forward. She struggled all the more, whimpering and pleading for release. The warden cursed and slapped her hard enough to snap her head back. The blow whipped her face toward Drakon and freed it from its curtain of dirty hair.
Drakon’s eyes flared. A face smooth with youth was decorated with black and blue bruises and a split lip. Terror-filled eyes glistened with tears and, more disturbing, resignation. This was no woman as he initially believed. It was a young girl.
The warden slapped the girl again. The crack ricocheted off the walls, and she slumped dazed into the warden’s arms. Having subdued her struggles, the man dragged her to the bed and flung her across it. She curled into a tight ball and whimpered. The warden grabbed her thin ankle and yanked her toward the edge of the bed.
“Quit your yammering!” He climbed atop her, clasping her wrists in one hand. “You should be honored that I would bring a smut like you to my bed!”
Blood pounded in Drakon’s ears. Unbidden, dark memories rushed to the surface of his mind.
A slave child. Powerless. Drakon blinked and shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory.
Nausea rolled through him. His blood heated in his veins.
Hay scratching tender skin.
With effort, he forced the memories back, slamming the door on their mental prison. Yet, the rage left in their wake had Drakon darting silently from the shadows and toward the warden, who tore at the girl’s clothing, before he realized he was moving.
The warden stiffened with awareness, some part of his inebriated psyche realizing they were not alone.
Too late. Drakon’s blade slipped in the hollow at the base of the man’s skull. The body jerked. Drakon twisted, severing the spine, and yanked the dagger free. The body slumped forward.
Blood gushed from the wound, coating the bed and the startled girl beneath. He pushed the body aside and freed her.
Wide, oddly ancient eyes––much too knowing for a child—peered back at him from a tear-streaked face mottled with bruises. She sucked in a deep breath, a preamble to a scream. His hand clamped over her mouth.
“Do. Not. Scream. I won’t harm you, but you will remain silent.” He stared into her shining, unblinking eyes.
“Nod if you understand.”
She nodded slowly, and he peeled his hand away, ready to place it back. She didn’t scream but sat up and eyed him with caution. He grabbed an unsoiled coverlet from the bed and tossed it at her.
“Cover yourself and get out of here. Tell no one of what you’ve seen.”
Even as he uttered the command, he knew he was being a fool. The only way to ensure her silence was to kill her, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill an innocent. No doubt, her short life was filled with atrocities for which this night was but a culmination. Her petite frame trembled beneath the coverlet.
No. Drakon was not so far gone that he would kill a slave girl. His soul was black and withered, but he had not delivered it to the pits of Targarius. Not yet.
The girl’s throat worked. “Th–thank you.” Her voice was an unsteady whisper in the quiet chamber.
He cleared his throat. Her thanks unsettled him for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge. He turned, focusing on the warden, and grimaced at the mess he had made. Blood soaked the bed beneath the corpse and pooled on the floor. A frozen mask of surprise rested on the man’s face. His pale-blue eyes locked on the nothingness of death. Already pale skin drained of its color as blood leaked from the body.
Drakon took in the tattooed runes on the warden’s skin. All that power and useless against a simple dagger. In the mage’s assurance in his magical superiority, he never suspected or spelled against nonmagical attacks. It was the way of nobles—arrogance above intellect.
Drakon sighed. The man’s death would never pass for natural causes. His moment of untethered emotion destroyed weeks of planning. The outburst he exhibited was out of character. His lapse of control annoyed him, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He had to plan his next steps, or they would be his last.
There was only one recourse left to him. He would remove himself from the city before the warden’s body was discovered. But before he fled, he would retrieve the other reason he was eager for this mission. He bent over the body, rummaging through the folds of the robes.
“Where is it?”
He rolled the corpse on its stomach and patted it down. He cursed. Nothing.
The warden always carried an object of power when he visited Sura City. Indeed, this mission excited Drakon for this reason. Desire to own such an object clouded his logic. In hindsight, it went to reason the warden would travel to court with additional protection. Nobles and commoners alike distrusted the king and the royal mage. The Jenna Warden would’ve been a fool not to travel with safeguards. However, the man wouldn’t carry such items in his dwelling.
He should have understood this sooner.
Drakon stood with a grunt of frustration, wiped his blade on his leathers, and returned it to its sheath. If the mission went according to plan, he would’ve had time to search the chamber. As it were, he would be leaving without his prize.
He spared a glance at the girl. Shock had yet to release her from its grasp. If the warden’s guards found her, they would sacrifice her in Drakon’s stead. He hoped she didn’t waste his gift of mercy. She would live or die by her action or inaction alone.
He sprinted to the window and glanced out. No sentries stood guard or moved across the grounds. That was good, and no one would enter the warden’s chamber until the maid arrived for the morning cleaning. Drakon would be long gone by then. As if summoned by the thought, a creak sounded from the door.
“Rainore? What the devil is taking so long? Finish with the—”
A slender man, clad in nothing more than skin and his mage tattoos, stopped mid-stride into the room. His pale-blue eyes locked on Drakon’s cloaked figure, widened, and then flicked to the body cradled in a crimson stain on the bed.
Theo and Sprout: A Journey of Growth by Joseph Gergen ~ @joegergen @GoddessFish ~ Literary Fiction (YA)
Theo and Sprout: A Journey of Growth
by Joseph Gergen
Literary Fiction (YA)
About the Book:
While Theo longs for some guidance through the perils of adolescence, the guidance he knew his family wouldn’t give him, he isn’t prepared for Sprout, his inner Divine Feminine, to present herself and offer it to him. In fact, he doesn’t appear to have a choice since Sprout, sassy and confident about her presence, won’t go away.
Read an Excerpt:
SPROUT. My brother had no idea the impact the nickname he derisively gave me would have. Neither of us knew how unwittingly appropriate it would become. Was it destiny or self-fulfilling prophecy? I don’t know. Memories and dreams and possibilities like to mix together. As far as my past is concerned and the makeup of who I am and what shaped me, I can make no distinction between memory and reality and dream. I usually don’t try.
While I certainly don’t remember all of my childhood, and many aspects are densely foggy, I remember with clarity the day my life changed. I was preparing for school in the basement bathroom—the small, cramped bathroom that seemed more like a large porta-potty with a shower than an actual bathroom. Wet towels covered the floor and almost all available surfaces. Countless toiletries jumbled themselves wherever space allowed them to balance or stack. Most of these did not belong to me. They belonged to my collection of brothers and sisters. I had a toothbrush. I knew that. Usually, I found toothpaste. If I absolutely needed a less common toiletry, I picked through a baffling array of products, many of which I had no understanding, until I found something useful.
Meet the Author:
Author of “Theo and Sprout”. Born and raised on the plains of North Dakota. Moved to Twin Cities because it’s actually warmer. Enjoy creating in whatever form it takes, including writing, painting, and furniture making. The enjoyment is in the doing. Looking to add a little magic to the world through art.
Other books include “Without a Pang” and “Methane Wars.”
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JoeGergen or @joegergen
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/joegergen/ or @joegergen
Books Available at:
Barnes and Noble as ebook and paperback:
“Without a Pang”
Available at Amazon as ebook and paperback:
Available at Amazon as ebook and paperback:
Enter the Giveaway:
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card.Follow the tour ~ the more you comment, the better your chances of winning.
The tour dates can be found here:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Wednesday, August 30, 2023
Publication date: July 18th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary Romance, Romance
About the Book:
Two lost souls find a tether in the power of love.
Pru Blum’s life hasn’t been easy, but working as a cellist with the Lower Georgia Symphonic Orchestra is her solace. She depends on her friends and uncle for support, but she’s resolved to become stronger and more independent. However, avoiding her abusive ex, Cliff, isn’t easy… especially since he’s a member of the orchestra too. His overbearing personality and unwanted attention stop her in her tracks each time she tries to move forward.
Shawn Levinson’s life seems disjointed, almost as though it’s someone else’s. His parents adore and expect him to marry his girlfriend, Helena, and for him to work for her father’s corporation. Deep down, he knows their relationship is a sham. Besides, sitting at a desk and wearing a tie forever isn’t his dream. Whenever he tries to follow his own path, though, everyone dismisses his hopes as foolish. He doesn’t have the strength to oppose two families, so he escapes to Georgia to work on his parents’ retirement home and look for some clarity.
When these two lost souls literally collide, sparks fly, but neither wants the complication of a relationship. And Shawn hasn’t mentioned anything to Pru about Helena. No matter how hard they try to distance themselves, they can’t seem to keep away from each other. By the time they’re ready to admit their feelings, their pasts and secrets are poised to blow up in their faces. Falling in love may be exactly what they need… if they can each get out of their own way.
Add to Goodreads
Read an Excerpt:
She shouldn’t have kissed him when he was just trying to be nice to her. For the past few days with hardly any contact, she wondered what had possessed her to do so.
Her train of thought was distracted by Timéo, the owner’s cousin. He stood at the table in his black button-down shirt and matching slacks, pen and pad readied to jot down their order. She rattled off in French what she and Shawn wanted.
“Is this handsome man your boyfriend?” he asked, still in French, raising his salt-and-pepper eyebrows.
“I’m not sure, but when I find out, you and Claudette will be among the first to know,” Pru replied in the same.
“Oui, bien.” He winked before he walked away.
Shawn smirked. “You just said you were barely passable in French.”
“Here, I’m usually fine. I’d be pretty lost in France though, I bet.”
“Have you ever been?” He twirled some cheese onto his spoon.
Pru nodded. “With my grandmother and uncle when I was eleven, for Uncle Barney’s business trip. Somewhere around the house is my little Eiffel Tower souvenir.” She smiled. “What about you? Have you been to Europe?”
“Nope. I’ve never even gotten a passport. Everyone keeps saying I should before I get back with…”
He shivered and trailed off, took a big spoonful of soup and looked like he nearly choked on it. Grabbing his wine glass, he took a few swallows.
An hour later, as they waited for their boxed leftovers, Pru had had enough of their evening-long, stiff, halting conversation. They’d gone stumbling gracelessly from topic to topic, with Shawn constantly looking down and frowning. She was shaking badly enough to have trouble holding her water glass in the end, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.
It was still light outside as they made their way down the cracked, weedy sidewalk toward their cars. They’d met here instead of coming together. They passed the older, less well-maintained brick stores, a 7-Eleven gas station, and a florist that had been in business since the thirties as they walked in tense silence. The humidity was mercifully light this evening, but something heavy hung in a thick cloud between and around them just the same. He hadn’t even held her hand or hugged her all evening.
When they reached the public parking lot, Pru stopped and looked at him. “You’re upset about something. Was it what happened when you drove me home a few days ago? I’m really sorry about that. I promise I’ll—”
“Me too.” Shawn shut his eyes and exhaled. “We shouldn’t have done that. I think we need to take a couple of steps backward.” He reached into his pocket and put on his mirrored sunglasses.
Pru gripped her upper arms and shivered. This was why they’d gone out in the first place, to somewhere neutral. In retrospect, this place had been a bad choice. What had she been thinking, suggesting a romantic atmosphere to ask for a platonic relationship? “Okay. I mean, yeah, you’re right.” She dug her fingers in hard enough to know she’d probably be bruised later.
He leaned back on his car, his hands hanging at his sides, shoulders slumped. “You told me you needed to try to be independent, and the thing is, I like you a lot, but my life’s pretty complicated right now.” He sounded tentative and resigned, and he wouldn’t look at her. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt because I was careless.” The declaration came out as a half-whispered mumble.
“Shawn.” He lifted his head. She had no idea what she wanted to say next, even though she’d rehearsed the conversation in her head. All she could think about was the time he’d recited Robert Frost to her impromptu as a rainstorm began. His mouth was a tight, straight line. He inhaled with a small shudder, and she saw her distorted reflection. It seemed a perfect image of how she was feeling. “It’s all right. I was thinking the same thing for a similar reason, you just brought it up first. I like you a lot too, and I wasn’t sure how to say any of it without hurting you.”
He pulled the corners of his mouth back. “We’re on the same page, then. Are we good?”
Focusing on looking resolute as her legs and chest shook, she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she was able to get any sound out. “We’re absolutely fine,” she managed. “Except for that one thing, nothing’s really changed, has it? Two friends kissed for a minute. Not a big deal, right?”
“Of course not.” He smiled for real this time and hugged her. His chest was warm, and his heart was racing.
Pru shuddered and put all her energy into holding off tears. She stepped back, and they dropped their arms. “Okay,” she said. She walked around to her own driver’s side door and opened it.
Shawn got into his car. “I’ll see you around, Pru.”
This was for the best. This was what they both wanted. Nothing had changed.
She pretended to do something on her phone while she watched him drop his head back on his seat, shut his eyes, and then straighten, take a big breath, and drive away.
Meet the Author:
Karen Janowsky has loved superheroes and ancient mythology since the first time she saw the Super Friends on television in 1970’s. Because flying an invisible jet was never a viable career option, and because running around in a cape, swimsuit, and bright red boots is not socially acceptable for adults, she teaches yoga and writing at the College of Southern Maryland. Her stories and poems have been featured in several anthologies and literary magazines since 1991. She received her master’s degree in English from Florida State University.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Under My Pillow by Jennifer Ballow ~ Children's Picture Book @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #UnderMyPillow #JenniferBallow #ChildrensBook
Children's Picture Book
Date Published: February 2, 2023
Publisher: Tooth Fairy Press
Aroba Sheikh (Illustrator)
About the Book:
Five-year-old Samantha loses her first tooth.
After putting her tooth under her pillow, Sam goes to bed excited about the present she hopes to discover the next day. Yet, she wakes up only to find an unpleasant surprise.
There's nothing under her pillow! No present or tooth. She goes on a quest to solve the mystery with the help of the Tooth Fairy and her feathered friend.
Will all turn out happily ever after?
Under My Pillow explores the themes of problem-solving, trust, and forgiveness in this fun and surprising tale.
About the Author:
Hi, I’m Jennifer!
I’m a new children’s book author and I love to help people in all stages and from all walks of life live the best lives that they can. In publishing stories, I hope to inspire you and your family to connect through reading, imagination-building, and creative writing. I adore books and enjoy collecting children’s literature, biographies, and short stories. I’m also a social worker & graduated from the University of Texas in Austin. I care about the community and want all people to have the same great opportunities that I have had.
A devoted mom to twin girls who are now almost all grown up, I cherish every minute I can with them! When I am not hanging out with my family and friends, I spend time reading, volunteering, and filling up my art journal with crazy ideas, magazine clippings, and paint squiggles.
I can’t wait to meet you and get to know your dreams and your stories!
Tuesday, August 29, 2023
Cusp of Redemption by Olivia Preya (The Cusp Series, #2) ~ Contemporary Romance, Crime, Romance @olivia_preya @XpressoTours #AmazonGiftCardChance
Cusp of Redemption
(The Cusp Series, #2)
Publication date: August 28th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary Romance, Crime, Romance
About the Book:
Salvatore de Marco
It was always about her.
Taking care of her.
Making sure she had everything she needed.
School. Apartment. Living expenses.
I took care of it all. For her.
And I’ll never regret the decisions I made to keep the smile on her face.
But she left me once, and I’ll be damned before I let her leave again. As the Cafarelli family enforcer, I can provide her with more than I could before–money and protection. I’ll do everything in my power to protect her from whatever demon made her run the first time. But what if it turns out the demon was me?
If there’s one thing I know, it’s that our connection is undeniable; I can feel how hot she is for me.
Even if she won’t admit it.
It took a long time to get to where I am now.
From foster kid to private investigator, I do whatever it takes to get the job done.
Even if that means working for the Cafarelli family.
I thought he was long gone—a distant memory tainted by a figure from our past. But time and distance did nothing to ease my hunger for his touch. Nor did it erase the betrayals that shattered me.
When the man who lights my skin on fire appears before me, I’m forced to face the realities I spent years avoiding. Now, Salvatore and I are working for the same family, and I can’t let the connection of our past ruin my future.
But what if he is my future?
Cusp of Redemption is book two of the Cusp series but can be read as a standalone. It has a guaranteed HEA, swoon-worthy anti-hero, and badass heroine. This is an interracial mafia romance containing explicit sex scenes, graphic violence, and is recommended for readers 18+.
Read an Excerpt:
“If you wanted me to hunt you down, all you had to do was ask.” I muffled a scream with my hand as Salvatore’s deep voice startled me from his place at my tiny kitchen table. “But from now on, each and every chase will end with you on your back.”
“What the fuck?” I snapped, barely able to comprehend the scene in front of me. With only two barstools and a round surface barely large enough for a pizza box, Salvatore somehow seemed to make himself at home despite dwarfing the area.
He wore a gray sweatsuit, a complete contrast to the suit from last night, but by the grace of some god, he looked even more delicious. His hoodie pulled across his broad chest and defined his shoulder muscles. My eyes traveled up his thick neck and to his mouth where a mischievous smirk curved his mouth.
A glint of light brought my gaze down to his hand fiddling with…a knife?
Salvatore gave me a slow once-over that made me contemplate hopping back in the shower—for a cold one this time. His dark eyes held me captive, taking in every inch of my being at a leisurely pace. An appreciative glint shone in his eyes.
I took the time to look at him. Really look at him. His dark hair cropped short and connected to his perfectly sculpted beard. With high cheekbones and full lips, he’d make a killing as one of those models on the cover of romance books. Especially with the jagged scar running from the middle of his right eyebrow straight down to an inch or so below his cheekbone, he was a sight to behold. While I couldn’t see his torso, there wasn’t a sliver of doubt in my mind his abs were as defined as the rest of him. My mouth watered at the memory of how hard he was as I flopped over his shoulder.
Salvatore and I had stumbled across each other’s paths a few times over the past year, and I was just as captivated and entranced by him as ever. Each time seemed to make the pull even stronger. The way his presence drew me to him was infuriating. And right now was the first time we’d been alone and so close since we last saw each other ten years ago.
But the physical attraction was undoubtedly still there.
He was bigger than before. More demanding. More dominating in his presence.
And my body couldn’t get enough. But I had to keep reminding my brain there was a reason we weren’t together anymore. He left me. I’d need to chant that mantra every time we were together.
“Diana Diamond has nothing on you.” Salvatore rumbled, his voice caressed me from head to toe and dripped in appreciation. He was referring to yesterday’s disguise. I resisted the urge to preen. I would not fuss over my appearance. It didn’t matter what Salvatore thought of me. He didn’t matter.
Although, I was mildly pleased by the fact he was alive. I didn’t like the guy, but I didn’t want him dead either.
He sat, absently flipping the knife back and forth between his fingers. The metal glinted in the morning light. “Are you trying to intimidate me with your little knife show?”
He glanced down, mildly surprised. “Habit,” he said simply before flipping the blade down and tucking it in his pocket. “I hardly believe a knife would be enough to intimidate you.”
He stood and slowly stalked closer to me.
“And what do you think intimidates me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He was right, I picked up skills over the years to outmaneuver a knife. But he didn’t know that.
I held my ground as he came toe to toe with me. I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye. His presence was overbearing, the spicy scent of his cologne flooding my senses. I licked my lips, and his eyes tracked the movement. “You need something more physical. Skin on skin. Overbearing. The full weight of a man pressing you down to submit. You wouldn’t give in to something as meager as a piece of metal.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, hating how he read me so well. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I couldn’t resist darting my tongue out to lick my lips. The image of him pressing me into a bed flashed before me and I nearly choked on the need that coursed through my veins and pooled in my core.
A ghost of a smile wafted on his face, breaking the spell. I stepped to the side and out of his intoxicating presence.
Salvatore closed his eyes briefly and took a deep inhale before shifting, so we were facing each other once again.
“You broke into my house?” I whisper-yelled, remembering I never invited him in. I didn’t even know he knew where I lived and as much as I wanted to cuss him out, I was worried about the thin walls and curious neighbors.
“You stole my car.” He shrugged.
Meet the Author:
Olivia Preya is a romance fanatic and author living in Toronto, Canada. She writes about what she loves—love, spice, and panty-dropping men with a soft spot for the love of their lives. When life gets a little tough or bland, she finds that fictional men are the best medicine.
Olivia considers herself to have two personas, like Wonder Woman, but with a pen––corporate marketing specialist by day and spicy romance author by night. She also likes to embrace all forms of sensuality, from pole dancing and erotic novels to good food; she believes that sometimes the best things in life are a little sinful.
a Rafflecopter giveaway