Presented by: Sparkle Book Tours

His Cemetery Doll by Brantwijn Serrah

 

Audience: Adult 18+ - Genre: Paranormal Romance/Suspense - Format: Ebook and Paperback - Publisher: Foreplay and Fangs Supernatural Romance - Cover by: Brantwijn Serrah - Editor: Jayne Wolf - Pages: 194 - ISBN: 9781513050829 - ASIN: B00X6567H6 - Date Published: Re-release date: May 4th, 2015

 

Conall Mackay never put stock in ghost stories. Not even after thirteen years serving as the cemetery keeper in the village of Whitetail Knoll. But things change. Now, his daughter is dreaming of a figure among the tombstones. The grounds are overrun by dark thorns almost faster than Con can clear them. White fog and gray ribbons creep up on him in the night, and a voiceless beauty beckons him from the darkest corners of the graves.

When the world he knows starts to unravel, Conall might finally be forced to believe.

 

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He hadn't slept long before he heard sounds from down in the kitchen below.
"Shyla!" he called gruffly. "Weren't you heading into town?"
No answer came from below, but the sounds of pots clanging told him his daughter toyed about down there. Perhaps she'd decided not to leave him after all and taken it into her head to now re-organize the house, since he'd so clearly wanted her to stay out of the cemetery. With a low groan, Conall rolled out of bed and stepped out into the hall.
"Shyla!" he called again, coming to the head of the stairs. If she had stayed home, she could at least do it without making a lot of noise.
"Shyla, I—"
He staggered then, as the hallway dimmed. Afternoon light flickered strangely, lightning cracking a dismal sky outside, and in the space of time afterward everything else darkened. Conall darted a glance around him as the house fell into shadow.
From the top of the stairwell, he saw the first whispering tendrils of white fog.
The heat of adrenaline shot through his limbs. Conall stumbled back into his bedroom, even as the fog pursued. His gaze shot to the window as the last gray light of day faded away and eerie darkness replaced it, like an eclipse sliding over the sun.
More cold mists veiled the glass, dancing and floating. Trembling overtook him as he spun to find another escape.
He froze, finding himself face-to-face with the broken mask of the cemetery doll.
"You—" he gasped. His breath came out white as the fog enveloped them both, leaving a space of mere inches between them, so he could still see her expressionless face. Gray ribbons wound and curled through the air around him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The doll stared up at him. He sensed her searching, looking into his eyes even though hers remained covered. She held him there with her unseen gaze, until her cool, cold hand came up to touch his bare chest.
Conall let out a low breath. He closed his eyes, and a shudder of strange ease rippled through his body. The cool pads of her fingers ran down his sternum, to his navel. The silky ribbons brushed along his side.
Then he noticed her other hand. She lifted it up, to her own chest, and she held something tightly in her fingers: Shyla's stuffed dog.
"I made that...for my daughter," he whispered. The woman with the broken mask tilted her head down toward the small toy, studying it. For a fraction of a second, her fingers appeared to tighten around it. She returned her gaze to him, then, and the toy fell from her grip into the fog, forgotten.
"Wait—" he said, but she brought her other hand up to his chest to join the first, and he recognized eagerness in the way she pressed her icy skin against his. Her face tilted to him, and then came her lips again, ivory and flawless.
"I—" Conall breathed. "I...don't understand..."
Her fingers slid up, around his neck, but he pulled away.
"No, this...this can't real. I'm asleep. I must be."
Gray ribbons danced, pulling him back to her, and she stroked his face. He sucked in a breath at her touch and found his own hand coming up to brush hers.
"You're so cold," he said. "Like stone...but..."
Her cool touch thrilled him; it made his skin tingle and the heat of his own body sing. Her perfect flesh did, in fact, prove soft under his hands, as if the contact with his worn calluses infused cold ivory with yearning. She caressed his cheek, and Conall leaned into it. Before he could stop himself, he bowed his head to her and kissed her frozen lips.

link: http://tinyurl.com/m858yt5

Shyla Mackay

Lucy Merriam

                                                   Conall Mackay                                                                

                                                   Joe Manganiello                                                               

Broken Doll

Kristen Bell

Father Frederick

David Thewlis

 

Hear the Music at Brantwijn’s YouTube Channel:

http://tinyurl.com/nywdaq5

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The story of His Cemetery Doll has been waiting to be told since Brantwijn Serrah first began jotting things down in her school notebooks instead of doing her homework. Conall Mackay and his lady ghost have existed for Brantwijn, in some form or another, longer than almost any other characters she's collected. This tale of a haunted graveyard and imprisoned beauty is, in Brantwijn's opinion, a wonderful way to finally bring them to life.
When she isn't visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching, painting, customizing My Little Ponies and sewing plushies for friends. She can't handle coffee unless there's enough cream and sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats, loves tabletop role-play games, and can spend hours watching Futurama, Claymore or Buffy the Vampire Slayer while she writes or draws.
In addition to her novels, Brantwijn has had several stories published in anthologies by Breathless Press, including the 2013 Crimson Anthology and 2014 Ravaged Anthology. She's also had a short story published in the Cleiss Press Big Book of Orgasm and the anthology Coming Together Through The Storm. She hopes to have several more tales to tell as time goes on. She has author pages on GoodReads and Amazon, and loves to see reader comments on her work. Her short stories occasionally pop up at Foreplay and Fangs, her blog at http://brantwijn.blogspot.com.
 
 

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Archangel’s Desire - Archangels’ Series # 1

by Karen Swart

Genre: Paranormal Romance - Audience: 18 + - Formats: E-book and Paperback - Publisher: Karen Swart - Cover By: Janine Fourie - Editor: Jasmin Petricola (Blue Butterfly Editing) - Published Date: April 30, 2015

 

Blurb-

Raven Black is no martyr, but she has a secret she deems worth protecting. Placed into the care of Zadkiel, the Archangel of Mercy, Raven Black tries with all her might and main to hide her deadly secret. It’s difficult to know who to trust or who to confide in, but Raven knows she’s unwilling to be exploited to get the Archangels’ greatest enemy. She seals her lips, refusing to speak and enduring the ensuing torture in silence.

After centuries of nothing but duty, Zadkiel is tormented by the hellhound Raven. The closer he gets to her, the more he discovers about this lethal beauty. With each passing moment an uncontrollable desire is awakened, and with it an ancient evil is provoked.

When he discovers her secret, Zadkiel must choose between all of mankind and the woman he has come to love. Can he save her in time, or will his failure bring forth the end of days?

He would awaken a desire that would burn through hell.

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Excerpt-

As Raven faded away, I turn to look at Chax. Although Chax was our leader, his short temper always seemed to doom a situation. His green eyes pierced mine as he regained his footing and pulled out his sword.
“There are more ways to deal with something than just force, Chax.” I smirked at him.
“Agreed, but not in Raven’s case.” Chax brought his sword in front of him, determined to get the weapon he needed to bring down Lucifer.
“She is still a fallen, and in my care. I will not let her be harmed in any way.” I stepped a little to the left, bringing my body to a perfect counter position.
“So, you choose her side rather than our cause?” Chax accused me.
“Please, I am not one of your little fallen apprentices. I chose the right path, the one without hurting an innocent girl.” I steadied the weight of my body on the balls of my feet, and secured my position.
“I migh-“ Chax was cut off by something crashing through my office wall.
“Where is she? Where is that hellhound?” an even more intoxicated Camael yelled while trying to stay upright.
“You have got to be kidding me!” At the sound of Chax’s pained words, my eyes flew in his direction, and I lifted my eyebrows at his statement.
He blushed a little. “Too much time with my mate,” he replied.
“I see,” I replied and caught Camael before his face ended up in my chair.
“What the hell are you doing, Camael?!” Chax replaced his sword and grabbed Camael on the other side.
“That hellhound needs a lesson in respect.” Camael’s words slurred with his heavy tongue.
“He needs to be healed, Chax. Is there no one who can help?” I was worried for my old friend; he was not doing well at all.
“No, not even the visits in heaven seem to be helping, although I might have an idea we can test.” Chax grabbed Camael on the shoulder and forced him to sit down. His head hung backwards as his dark eyes looked up and tried to focus on us.
“If it might work, we need to try it. He is unable to fulfill his duties in this state.” A bitter taste was left in my mouth. I didn’t like what I was seeing at all.
“What about Raven?” Chax asked.
“I will find her, and I will let her take me to him. The moment I have him in sight, I will notify all of you.” My eyes drifted to Chax.
“And you think that you will be able to persuade her to help us trap him?” Chax frowned.
“Yes, but she will not know that she is doing it. I will steer her the way we need her to go.” Chax nodded and grabbed hold of Camael.
“Do that then, but if you fail, it will be my way, Zadkiel.” He shifted out, taking Camael with him.

 
Author The Author -

I am a complete book addict, and really proud of it. My entire world is made of books. From reading to writing to blogging to helping other authors. A day without my world of books would be impossible. I am a mother of three, two boys and a little princess. Happily married for 8 years with my high school sweetheart. I live in South Africa, just on the rims of the Kalahari Desert in a small town with one shop and friendly faces.

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Presented by: Sparkle Book Tours

Insignificant - The Goldenrod Series # 1

by Kelly Lincoln

 

Audience: New Adult 18+ - Genre: Romantic Suspense - Format: E-book and Paperback - Publisher: Kelly Lincoln - Cover by: Najla Qamber Designs. Cover photo by Lindee Robinson Photography - Editor: Editing 4 Indies - Date Published: 6/10/15

Due to explicit language, sexual content, and dark themes, reader discretion is advised.
When Taylor was four years old, she became an orphan and her childhood spiraled into darkness. She spent years lying, hiding, and avoiding any love offered to her until she was old enough to run away from all the threats of her past.
Now twenty-two, Taylor doesn’t think she’s worth more than being the kind of girl a guy hooks up with in the back room of a bar after her band plays. She definitely isn’t the one you bring home to meet Mom and Dad.
An unlikely rescue puts her in Ethan’s sight. He’s her total opposite, though. Ethan is a sexy dork who sees beyond Taylor’s guarded exterior. He sees past the tattoos and piercings. He sees her.
But they both have secrets capable of destroying their relationship. And if Taylor’s past ever catches up with her, the consequences could be deadly.

Goodreads

My breath caught when he stood behind me to look over my shoulder. We weren’t touching, but my skin broke out in goosebumps and my body ached for contact with his. Heat swirled in my stomach at the thought. How easy would it be to lean back against that awesome chest and have those killer arms hug me? I gripped the table to keep myself from doing anything stupid.
“Beautiful,” he said softly.
“Cool.” I shined the enlarger on the paper and picked up the photo after I turned it off. Ethan was still behind me, and I swallowed as I turned around. Looking at him in this sexy orange lighting was really—
A quiet popping noise invaded our silent room, and the orange light went out, leaving us in darkness. I flinched in surprise, brushing against Ethan. He put his hands on my arms. "The light burned out."
I laughed, trying to distract myself from my tingly arms. "Yeah, Captain Obvious. I can tell."
He laughed softly. "I have another one, I'll go change it. We just have to..." His grip tightened, and he drew me closer to him as he turned me so we switched places. One hand moved off my arm and to my back as his voice dropped. "Trade places. Because it’s on the shelf.”
"Right," I whispered. When he moved us, I dropped the paper, but I really couldn’t have cared less now that his arms were around me. Without thinking, I reached out and held my breath when my fingers brushed against smooth skin. I trailed to the side and found his hair. Moving along the side of his face, I stopped right before his chin and hesitated. Touching him was so ballsey. He might not want me doing this.
When I stopped, he let out a soft groan, and his fingers moved under the hem of my shirt, barely grazing the skin of my lower back. I took a shaky breath and raised my other hand, tracing the planes of his face, the one line across his forehead, the rise and fall of his glasses, the bridge of his nose, and the indent in his chin, so slight it was barely noticeable. His thin top lip. His full bottom one. Over and over again, and his breaths came out deep as his fingers kept moving lightly against my bare skin.
I whimpered as he put his other hand on the side of my face. Fucking whimpered.
“I like this,” he whispered as his fingers followed my eyebrows, over the piercing and down toward my cheek.
I kept tracing his lips as he touched me, all too aware of the strong ache between my legs. “Me too,” I breathed.
My pulse echoed in my head as his hand rested under my chin with his thumb on my lip ring. Neither one of us moved.
I couldn’t fucking handle it anymore. “Ethan?”
“Yes?” his soft voice replied.
“Kiss me already.”

Kelly Lincoln is pretty lame but she’s okay with that. She enjoys reading, inappropriate jokes, all things Disney, and spending time with her family. She lives in the northeast and drinks way too much Diet Coke.
For character bios, playlists, and news about upcoming releases, please visit www.kellylincoln.com. You can also find Kelly when she’s avoiding writing on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKellyLincoln?ref=aymt_homepage_panel or on Twitter @KLincolnWrites.

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