Erotic Romance — Page 25

Hack by Deana Birch – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 18, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Deana Birch who is celebrating the recent release of Hack. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE eBook from the author!

An online criminal craves real-life danger, but her flawed instincts may cost her new crew everything.

Rafael Santos didn’t get the nickname ‘Goldie Locks’ for his shimmering blond curls. His hair is as black as his criminal heart. No, it’s his Midas touch. His ability to earn—coupled with a love for theft and technology—has gained him the coveted Number Two position in the Covington Heights crew. The problem is…after a murder that sent their regular clients packing, even his numbers are down. Now, finding new sources of illegal income is his number one priority.

Marigold Pfeifer is the fairy princess of online deceit. She can slip her computer viruses into a system at the blink of an eye and steal personal information in a twinkly flash. And that’s exactly what she does when screen name ‘GoldieLocks’ slides into her instant messenger. What’d he expect? A gift card?

But when the naïve hacker rides the train uptown to check out mysterious Covington Heights, she’s approached by the leader of the crew and forced to think fast on her feet. A hate-filled rivalry sparks between her and Rafael—and with it a deviously sinful attraction.

Will real-life criminals and the danger they breed be enough to wise up the goth-pixie with zero street smarts when she must navigate dark waters—or will her flawed instincts burn all she’s worked for to the ground?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and drug use.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Rafa

They gym we shared on the third floor in Covington Heights was haunted by the spirit of our former crew member Leo. I was sure of it. As I circled around the blue sparring mat trying to find my next move, I could almost hear him whisper in my ear.

Where’s the weakness?

The problem was that the man opposite me didn’t have very many soft spots and his steel-blue eyes were like the tip of his sword. They pierced before anything else. As he narrowed his gaze ever so slightly, he would land his next punch. His brick fist slammed into the cheekbone just below my left eye. Pain slapped the side of my face, but I wouldn’t let it spread to my ego. It wasn’t personal, that I knew. Anton was pissed and working out his frustrations. Hell, we all were.

“Ooo…” He jogged backward. “You okay there, Goldie Locks?” His fake sympathy was followed by a proud smile but he wouldn’t get any complaints or signs of weakness from me.

“You know I like it rough.” I winked and walked over to the small fridge at the back of the gym where my boy Jackson and I had started keeping ice packs. Shit happened. Anton wasn’t as good a teacher as Leo, but practicing was the only way to get better, stronger.

Since Leo’s abrupt departure, Anton had been a miserable prick. He’d turned into the crankiest bitch I’d ever seen. And he had a serious alpha complex. His physical dominance wasn’t only a reminder that he was a better fighter. It was the exclamation point that our asses belonged to him…or else.

Leo had gotten away with too much, and those who were still around were paying the price. I shot a knowing glance to Jackson, who looked away and continued to do his bicep curls on a bench near the door.

Anton wrapped a towel around his bare shoulders and said, “Jackson, meet me in fifteen at my place. Scooter’s bringing the numbers from Bradford South.”

I dug out the frozen bag of blue gel then sat on the side of the treadmill as I pressed it into my cheek—bitter cold relief for a festering wound of the bossman’s frustration. No one could spar like Leo. Message received. No one was going to be allowed to get away with the same disrespect. Got it. But penance for other people’s sins was getting old quick. Unfortunately, all was fair in crime and crews. Did I like taking a blow from time to time? Honestly? Yeah, I did. I wanted to be better, wanted to learn. I craved more respect and was plotting ways to get it.

Anton tipped up his chin and winked at me. It was his way of checking in. That was also part of his management technique or whatever-the-fuck way he kept us down but happy. Show the power first, then a hint of giving a shit. I’d seen it before. I actually didn’t mind it. The familiarity was somehow comforting.

“Let’s make some fucking money today.” Anton looked us over one last time before leaving, his glare emphasizing that it was a command, not a request.

I walked over to Jackson, my former roommate and literal partner in crime. We’d bonded over not having fucked-up families, just fucked-up circumstances, Xbox and both refusing to become adult enough to drink coffee. Plus, we liked the idea of belonging somewhere. And the money… We liked the money.

Jackson set the weights down on the gray concrete floor. “He needs to get laid.”

More like I needed to get laid. I’d given up on banging girls from our neighborhood. There was nothing interesting about being worshiped. Besides, they only did it in hopes of making their lives better. None of them really ever bothered to get to know me, not to mention that half of them were customers. That was more trouble than it was worth.

I shook my head. Anton had no problem there. “He needs to make more money.” It was true that since we’d knocked off Mac, who had been a regular patron at our backdoor gambling racket, attendance had gone down to zero. No one liked the idea of tempting Anton’s quick fuse and ending up in the river—not that we’d thrown Mac in the river, of course.

Lucky for us, the police had written off the Bradford murders as a drug deal gone wrong and hadn’t cared to search much further. Our sources at the precinct said there had been mild rumblings of it seeming like a professional hit because of the precision, but, in the end, it was a criminal-on-criminal crime and they tended not to waste too many resources on shit like that.

Jackson stood and put his hands on his hips. “What are you up to later? I’m moving my stuff to Lisa’s and could use a hand.”

“Aww. You all lonely and shit since I moved out?”

Jackson rolled his dark brown eyes. “Nah. I’m all horny and shit since she finally let me tap that ass. Besides, I like showing Junior what a stable woman looks like.” He held my gaze for a brief second.

There was no need to explain. I’d seen Jackson’s baby-mama Bridget at our bench in the courtyard too many times in the last month. Selling drugs was a lot less fun when it was to the mother of one of your favorite kids, which brought me full circle to the money problem. We were a small operation. Sure, we had gained territory since the Bradford Towers crew had taken the hit. But with the game numbers down, I was pretty sure that the money decline was tainting Anton’s mood more than the loss of his previous sidekick. The bossman wasn’t exactly sentimental.

I pressed the cool into my cheek. It had thawed a little and was losing its original stiffness. “I’m working on something…a new business venture. Just waiting on a contact.”

Jackson rubbed his jaw. Maybe he’d taken a couple of hits I hadn’t seen. “Well, get fuckin’ crackin’.” He gave me a little salute and was gone.

I reached for a hand towel and wiped the residual sweat off my arms and chest. I hadn’t always wanted to be a law-breaking shit who sold people poison. It was just that I’d been bored—bored in school, bored in life, bored everywhere except in my own head. There, everything spun. It was like other people’s brains were funnels catching raindrops and all the information came to one eventual stream of thought. Mine? A constant downpour where I wanted to see every single bead of water and analyze it. That was what my high school computer teacher had said, anyway. He’d also said that was why I would be great in IT. Yeah, that ‘career path’ had taken an odd but predictable turn.

Breaking into people’s computers calmed me—and had earned me my first trip to juvey. When I’d gotten out and met Anton… Well, it all just seemed like destiny. But Anton was hard, from his jawline to his inability to show compassion. I didn’t have that darkness inside. Not that it mattered… I’d made my choices. A life in a suit and a picket fence with a puppy wasn’t going to happen for me.

I left the gym and went across the hall to the apartment I’d shared with Anton since Leo had moved out. The spray of his shower echoed down the hall that led to his room. I headed in the opposite direction, crashed on my bed with a thud and reached for my laptop.

I logged in to my favorite online chat for hackers and it only took a second for my idol to send me a direct message. Bingo.

Majel213: Going live in five. Glad you finally decided to show up, Goldie.

As if I would miss it. Majel213 was my Internet spirit animal. I typed my response.

GoldieLocks: Highlight of my day. You know I’ve been itching to see what you’ve been scheming.

I always tried to up my nerd and downplay my street vibe whenever she and I chatted. The tech geek in me wanted her to respect my brains, as fucking stupid as that was. Online, I could be anybody. The idea of someone liking me for my intelligence was an out-of-body experience. In the six months since I’d found Majel213 and her wicked tutorials, we’d somehow become friends. Well, maybe not friends—but more than online strangers. It was just that we’d never actually seen each other. I’d never offered a profile pic in our chats and she did all her videos without showing her face.

I was sure that if she knew I was just some street criminal who’d never really carried out an impressive hack, I would lose the connection we’d built. And I needed her. Getting my hands on her malware was a way to keep my Midas touch.

The nickname ‘Goldie Locks’ had evolved over the years from ‘Golden Boy’, neither of which had anything to do with my hair. That was pitch black. It was because I was a good earner and I’d gotten the light-eye gene from my Brazilian heritage. The fact that the name had turned into a fairy-tale character didn’t bother me. In fact, when I’d first starting using it online, I’d catfished quite a few idiots.

Five minutes later, I clicked over to the 677CrackChat and logged in. Holy hell. Majel213’s raspy voice played over my thin speaker and she was transmitting dual screens.

“Meet Nathanial E. Tomjak. He lives in North Dakota, loves to fish and hunt. He’s new to all this because, quote, ‘my daughter finally convinced me to join the social media thingy.’ No one suspects he’s not a real person because his picture, which I photoshopped to change eye color, hair color, skin tone and age, is right here for all to see.”

She clicked on the picture and enlarged it to fit the screen. If she hadn’t said it was altered, I would have never guessed. Nathanial E. Tomjak was the epitome of a Midwestern retired grandpa, complete with triple chin, racing T-shirt and warm smile.

“So, Nate—I call him Nate—Nate was a creation of a profile after I had already found”—she clicked a couple of times and brought up a picture of Caroline Claussen—”this sweet, cat-loving mama.”

The kind face of an older woman replaced the screen. “Caroline works for the sheriff of Zapata Falls and is my number one target for malware.”

canada pharmacy viagra This is accomplished by writing a simple retrieval program that searches through every web site listed on a search engine to remove the spaces in order to come back to your original title. Suffering is seen with the low back is not always an effective method, it is commander viagra not very often performed. The activities will be monitored and even limited as buy viagra overnight Osteoporosis can allow fractures and breakage in bones. We need some element of humanity that allows us to build a picture of who we are female viagra pill and most “dense” of all our bodies. There was a slight East Coast accent in Majel213’s voice. Her pronunciation of ‘number’ sounded a little like a ‘numba’ and I let myself believe that one day I might meet my nerd crush face-to-face and she would be hot, which was stupid. Finding the sexy librarian type in real life who could live up to my fantasies was proving to be difficult. Also, the whole selling drugs to pay the rent never went over well with the smart girls I liked.

But Majel213? She was my perfect blend of intelligence and criminal. By her screen name, she was in camp Star Trek over Star Wars. Her clever and deviant behavior inspired my own. We were soulmates, I was sure—me and the other four hundred sixty-three dorks watching her show us the latest and sneakiest ways to crack, hack and hide.

I propped up the pillows behind me, workout stank be damned, laid a towel on my chest under my laptop and settled in. I was ready to learn everything she had to teach me.

And listen to her. Fuck, I loved the sound of her voice. It was low and seductive, but she was also funny. At the end of all her tutorials, she would say, “And change your fucking passwords, Geeks!” That usually led me to go around the apartment and do just that. My phone, Anton’s phone, Jackson’s phone when I’d lived with him, then all sites, all applications… I could spend half my day just doing what Majel213 told me.

And more than once, my own passwords had been changed to her fucking screen name. How I’d become a lovesick dork slash criminal was beyond my comprehension.

That sultry tone went on to describe how she’d found her target and worked backward. How creating a fake person was easy. Once she had the profile pic, the rest of what ‘he’ posted was either shares from propaganda that aligned with Caroline’s beliefs or pictures that he wasn’t in. ‘Nate’ had become friends with one of Caroline’s relatives through people who were more interested in having followers and like than caring if they actually knew the person.

Then it had just been as simple as engaging on the same post by the mutual friend and boom! There was a direct line to her target. It required maintenance, but according to Majel213, that was part of the fun. The hard part, she said in the voice that had me wondering how ‘Rafael’ would sound if she whispered it all quiet and sultry next to my ear, was waiting for the day that Caroline would open her social media on her work computer. But, Majel213 wasn’t worried. Caroline had said that she hated texting on her phone and was much faster on a keyboard, so it was just a matter of finding a topic that would inspire Caroline to need to converse faster—like making Nate’s tabby cat ill.

Majel213 had a beautifully perverse brain.

She explained that once the application was opened in the office of the sheriff of Zapata Falls, because Majel213 had programmed a sneaky virus that shadowed the direct messenger, the malware would be on Caroline’s hard drive in thirty seconds. And that would translate to the entire town being held hostage by Majel213 until they paid their ransom in untraceable cryptocurrency.

And pay they would, she assured, because the counties, cities or whatever were insured…and the FBI would tell them to. Otherwise, all their systems stayed frozen and spun around in the never-ending computer circle of death.

And the real beauty? While they tried to figure out how to pay, she just kept stealing all their information. It was pretty customary malware shiftiness. She could get tax returns, social security numbers, backgrounds, criminal records and birth certificates then sell that to criminals like me. Majel213 just made it sound so much sexier than it probably was.

Internal man-dork sigh.

She also sold her out-of-date malware to us nerds who didn’t know how to code it as well as she did. The clever thief was always three steps ahead, and the improved versions of her viruses and programs were for her use only.

So it was that version—the latest and most dangerous—that I was sure I needed to make bank for the crew, not a malware program an average bad actor could use. Somehow, I was going to convince the normally selfish Majel213 to share her updated goods, and we would go from street criminals to an organized threat to society. I tingled all over just thinking about it.

Her scratchy voice rang out and woke me from my dream of living the calm, boring life of a closet criminal. “Change your fucking passwords, Geeks! Oh, and I’m taking questions for the next five minutes on message chat. Dick picks will result in a virus that sends it to your grandma, assholes.”

I shot up and clicked on our message window. Time to make a deal.

GoldieLocks: Brilliant as usual. How do I get my hands on your latest version?

Majel213: Thanks for watching. It’s always nice to have you there. The links are up.

I didn’t want those old, used-up links. I wanted the version she was hoarding for herself.

GoldieLocks: No, I mean the *real* latest version.

Majel213: Not for sale, sweetie. Sorry. You know that.

My internal ego liked the term of endearment so much that he convinced my brain it was for him. But I wasn’t giving up that easy.

GoldieLocks: Everything has a price.

It was a bold promise, considering we didn’t have a savings account with money piled up.

The ellipsis next to her name stayed for a minute like she was writing some long explanation. My heart raced and I drummed my fingers lightly over the keys without hitting hard enough to type.

Name your price, baby girl.

Oh, the money I could make for Anton. And I wouldn’t have to sit out on that fucking bench and watched addicts wither away with each sale I made. I could perch myself on the couch, post to social media then just wait to pounce. And getting the latest version of the malware would ensure it wasn’t tracible. It would be new and never have been used.

Majel213: Indeed it does. My apologies.

She added a winky face emoji and left the chat. Shit. I should have brought up cash. She was always talking about cryptocurrency, but cash was still king for criminals. I should have started with that. Next time. Next time I would lead with, “How much cash would it take?”

Fuck. Didn’t she know I needed that shit like…yesterday?

I closed my laptop and tossed it to the end of the bed. After a quick shower, I found Anton in a hovered meeting with Scooter at the island in the kitchen. The sour frown on his pale face was enough to know he didn’t like what he and Jackson had heard earlier. We needed money. I was the Golden Boy and he was relying on me to make good on my previous abilities to earn.

Working on it, boss.

“I’m headed down to the bench then I have to help with a thing. Later.”

I jogged down the stairs and out to the courtyard that connected the three buildings of Covington Heights. A small gathering of black jeans parted and Jackson stood, towering over us all. We man-hugged, the official sign that he was off duty and I was on.

His spot on the bench was still warm, and I draped my arms out, taking as much space as I could.

A new member of the crew caught my eye on the edge of the circle. He was a bit scrawny and had probably come from Bradford. More and more defectors were crossing into our territory. That particular one looked hungry as hell. Sometimes I wondered if the new recruits weren’t double agents. I reminded myself to keep my guard up at all times.

Maybe I would do a password sweep after dinner. Although, the skinny kids from the projects weren’t much of a threat to the technology that I used. Hell, they wouldn’t even know how to put a virus onto a computer.

Like Majel213… Using direct messaging to shadow…

Fucking fuck, fuck.

Mother of all fucks.

My pulse raced and I closed my eyes in horrid understanding. She’d broken into my fucking computer.

About the Author: Deana Birch was named after her father’s first love, who just so happened not to be her mother. Born and raised in the Midwest, she made stops in Los Angeles and New York before settling in Europe, where she lives with her own blue-eyed Happily Ever After. Her days are spent teaching yoga, playing tennis, ruining her children’s French homework, cleaning up dog vomit, writing her next book or reading someone else’s.

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DEANA BIRCH IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND YOUR FREE DEANA BIRCH ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 2nd March 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Venetian Valentine by Kristian Parker – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 12, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Kristian Parker, who is celebrating the recent release of Venetian Valentine, part of the My Bloody Valentine Collection. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and a $5.00 First for Romance Gift Card!

Venice at Valentine’s? Andrew didn’t bargain on outrunning the Mafia, fighting for his life…or meeting Sergio.

Post break-up Andrew, in Venice for Valentine’s Day, isn’t alone and pining for very long before handsome local Sergio sweeps him off his feet—and into his gondola.

What should have been the most romantic evening of Andrew’s life turns into the deadliest when a dying policewoman they rush to help slips them a vital piece of evidence…and they’re accused of shooting her.

With both the Mafia and corrupt cops in hot pursuit, Andrew and Sergio must deliver the evidence to the only man who can clear their name. The only problem is he lives at the other end of Italy, which sends them on the most action-packed Valentine’s date ever.

It’s going to take some serious Valentine’s magic for the shy Englishman and the sexy gondolier to have a second date, never mind a chance at a relationship…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of mild peril, injury, and a gun battle.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Pronto, vuoi un passaggio?”

Not even in Venice yet and already asked if I wanted a ride.

I nodded and stepped onto the water taxi. Yes, there were cheaper options, but this being my first trip to the famous island, I wanted to arrive in style.

The crisp February air hit me as we got out onto the water. Even so, I had no intention of sheltering inside the wooden boat. I hadn’t paid a ridiculous amount of money to miss everything below deck.

Then I saw it. Venice.

It took my breath away. Beautiful pastel-coloured buildings lined the coastline with the iconic St Mark’s Campanile dominating the skyline behind. Butterflies filled my stomach as we sped towards our destination. So much history calling to me to discover it.

Whatever the driver hollered to me, I couldn’t hear above the wind in my ears. I wouldn’t have taken it in anyway, not when the island looming larger in front of me had all my attention.

Soon it stretched out and filled my eyeline. Details became clearer. The shoreline was busy with traders and visitors and all manner of people. A market selling the usual rubbish was an irresistible call to the tourists. Huge boats tugged gently against their moorings outside big houses. What a life to live in one of those. In this world of water, I couldn’t have been further away from the crowded London streets I was used to.

We pulled up to a jetty and excitement built inside me.

“Come ti piace Venice?” asked the driver, spreading his arms wide like an orchestra conductor.

“Bella.” Yes, I thought Venice beautiful, all right.

Safe on terra firma and more than ready to dive into this city, I paused at the edge of a group of people congregating on a bridge having their picture taken. They dispersed to reveal the Bridge of Sighs.

I gawked. This had been high on Matt’s sightseeing list when we’d planned the trip. But he only had himself—and his wandering hands—to blame for missing out.

I snapped out of it. The bridge before me had seen worse heartbreak than mine—they’d named it the Bridge of Sighs as convicts would get their last view of Venice before succumbing to their gruesome fate in the dungeons down below, and they would sigh.

I stood staring, absolutely transfixed. I’d only been here for five minutes, but I could understand why those sighs would be filled with such loss.

Things got even better when I got my first glimpse of a gondolier, expertly steering his craft through the city and under the bridge. I’d been dismissive of the gondolas and their high prices, but now I saw one drifting through the canals, it tempted me. Would I feel like a bit of a loser taking one on my own?

This city could be full of possibilities for me and I refused to dwell on being alone for this trip. Lots of people travelled solo and now I’d joined their ranks.

I took a selfie with the bridge in the background and sent it to my friend, Jodie.

Here safe and sound. Speak soon x.

Almost immediately I got a reply.

Go get ’em, tiger.

My phone told me my hotel lay on the other side of St Mark’s Square. All my life, I had yearned to stroll across one of the most famous squares in the world. Taking a deep breath and channelling my inner chic Italian, I set off to discover what Venice had in store for me.

Just my luck, the biggest rain shower I’ve ever encountered ruined my picture-postcard arrival. Huge dollops of rain bounced off those iconic cobbles as I dragged my case across them, making it spin out of control. In the end, I just picked it up and made a run for it. Being a lanky six foot two, it was hard for me to run stylishly, and so I ran full pelt. My painstakingly styled blond spikes were flopping with all the water, the hair gel running into my eyes and making them sting.

I must have looked like a drowned rat by the time I burst through the unassuming doors of the Hotel Buon Sonno, which caused much amusement for the achingly handsome receptionist who greeted me. I ignored his smirk as I dripped on the marble floor, although I did feel like the least glamourous person in Venice.

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I unpacked, stashing my money and important stuff in the safe. Jodie had told me about the pickpockets of Venice to the point of paranoia. After that I had a long scrub in the huge walk-in shower to wash the journey away. The monsoon jets soon brought me back to life.

I lay on the bed in my bathrobe, flicking through the guidebook, when my stomach growled as though a bear had woken up in there. Would anywhere be doing meals this early? Well, time to hit the streets of Venice to find out. Go get ’em, tiger.

I threw on some clothes and headed out to see what this place had to offer. This time I took my umbrella.

Hopefully looking a little more presentable, I smiled at the receptionist as I passed him. I might not have been on the romantic getaway I’d hoped for, but why should that stop me having a little—or a lot—of fun? He didn’t return the smile. I supposed with him having seen me at my worst, my best wasn’t likely to impress him.

Opposite the hotel sat a kind of gondola park. The boats jostled together, awaiting their turn. So did the gondoliers, who laughed and joked to pass the time until their next customer appeared. It might have been February, but that meant Carnival week as well as the romantic epicentre of the year. Plenty of people queued up to pay their extortionate prices. Still tempted to take a ride, I watched a few set off, bearing smiling passengers. My hunger won out this time—my ride could wait for another day.

I had only just set off in the direction where I thought I’d seen a few restaurants from my window when, suddenly, a gondolier jumped in front of me. He looked so handsome in his standard striped T-shirt and straw hat set at a jaunty angle. He took his hat off and bowed in a ridiculously dramatic fashion. As someone who is easily flustered, I could feel my face going bright red.

“Well, hello there, stranger. My name is Sergio, the best gondolier in this whole city.”

All the other gondoliers were laughing and nudging one another…which didn’t help my out-of-control blushes.

“H-hello,” I stammered.

“Ah, he is English! I knew it. I said to my friends, here comes a member of the English aristocracy.”

I might have been named after Prince Andrew, but the similarities ended there. An auntie had traced our family tree once upon a time and found nothing but mill workers and servants. But in Venice, I could be whoever I wanted to be.

“And you were right,” I said in my poshest voice. “My grandmother, the Queen of England, told me Venice is the only place to be on Valentine’s Day.”

He threw his head back and laughed. I had never seen someone so jaw-droppingly perfect, from his shiny eyes to his perfectly groomed stubble to his strong arms which held the railing as he leaned backward. I didn’t dare look any lower.

“Then surely you wish to experience everything Venice has to offer?”

“Of course I do. But I’ve only just arrived. I want to sample some food first.”

He winked. “Sergio will help. There is a beautiful pasta place just around the corner. Tell them I sent you.”

“Oh yes? Will I get a discount?”

“No, but I will next time I am in.”

With that, he laughed his infectious laugh and went back to join his fellow boatmen. I watched him go. God bless the gondoliers in their tight black trousers. What a view.

I decided to take his recommendation. I didn’t fancy spending the evening going from restaurant to restaurant, trying to decide where to eat.

It paid off. The pasta tasted amazing. The sauce, a local delicacy made with three types of tomato, went perfectly with the white wine they brought me. My table overlooked the Grand Canal, the feature of so many paintings. As evening fell, the restaurants lining the banks turned on strings of bulbs entwined around their awnings, giving it a magical feel. They reflected in the water and cast a dappling light on the grand Rialto Bridge.

I had truly arrived in Venice. I caught myself checking every gondola for Sergio, which bugged me. The first man to pay me a bit of attention, and I fall hook, line and sinker. Thankfully, he didn’t make an appearance. I wanted my first night in Venice to be for me and not side-tracked by some man…no matter what lay beneath those tight trousers.

On the way back to the hotel, I had a couple of drinks in a bar. As I curled up in a black wingback chair and sipped my smooth red wine, I looked at my fellow patrons. Carnival fever dominated the bar, with many people in masks and outrageous outfits. A couple in front of me were intertwined, her hanging off his every word and laughing. Tiredness overcame me. It had been stressful travelling on my own for the first time. Draining my glass, I decided an early night could be excused.

The heavens opened again as I wandered back to my hotel. The gondolas had called it a night when I got there and there was no sign of Sergio. It would have been nice to share the big bed with someone, instead of missing Matt. I fell asleep reciting the reasons why I had split up with him.

It made for a scarily long list.

About the Author:I have written for as long as I could write. In fact, before, when I would dictate to my auntie. I love to read, and I love to create worlds and characters.

I live in the English countryside. When I’m not writing, I like to get out there and think through the next scenario I’m going to throw my characters into.

Inspiration can be found anywhere, on a train, in a restaurant or in an office. I am always in search of the next character to find love in one of my stories. In a world of apps and online dating, it is important to remember love can be found when you least expect it.

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KRISTIAN PARKER IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GRAB YOUR FIRST FOR ROMANCE GIFT CARD! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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The Rose Man by Cheryl Dragon – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 11, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Cheryl Dragon is celebrating the recent release of The Rose Man, part of the Enter to win a $20.00 Amazon Gift Card and a FREE Cheryl Dragon romance book!

The Rose Man knows where his targets live, work and play…

One dead body.

Two missing men.

Three red roses…

So far…

Deputy Ben Grover is the only gay man in the sheriff’s department and gay men seem to be the target of a stalker who leaves a rose on their windshield. With missing persons involved, the sheriff welcomes the help of the FBI, but Ben isn’t so thrilled to be working with Agent Ross Burns, his high school ex.

Ross had aspirations that took him far from the small town while Ben had obligations that kept him back. But they won’t let their scorching past or the feelings that blaze into passion now get in the way of catching a killer.

Both are convinced there are more rose recipients out there—The Rose Man seems to be counting down to Valentine’s Day and roses tend to come by the dozen…

Enjoy an Excerpt

Rural Kentucky had its share of crime, but Deputy Ben Grover never got excited, even when something sounded like a good case. Normally it ended up being something simple, like a family dispute or misunderstanding. Family didn’t snitch and almost everyone was related in some distant way or through marriage.

Sheriff Larry, as he was known to everyone, liked things nice and quiet. His reelection signs were all over town with a picture of Larry in case anyone didn’t know who he was. A portly guy in his late fifties with a big smile, everyone liked Sheriff Larry, and Larry liked the calm and boring county.

The country life was good. Ben enjoyed knowing the people and being able to drive around his county blindfolded if he had to. Still, Ben longed for a bit more excitement, but his life was here. The radio in his squad car demanded his attention.

He grabbed the handset and pressed the button. “Grover here.”

“Respond to a report of a dead body behind the Good Ole Boy Inn. All yours,” said dispatch.

“Responding,” Ben replied. He flipped on the lights for a bit of fun. The sheriff didn’t respond unless it was high profile and the Good Ole Boy Inn was a gay dive bar just inside their jurisdiction. It drew men on the downlow from Lexington to Frankfurt and all the surrounding areas.

Three gay men had been reported missing in the last week. Of course, the families wouldn’t admit to them being gay, but interviews with coworkers and neighbors had confirmed it. But there was no sign of foul play, no blood, no signs of a struggle and no calls for ransom. Sheriff Larry was convinced they’d all gone on some gay camping trip and forgot to call off work…

The only real link between them so far was the red roses. Each had commented, before they went missing, to a friend or coworker about a red rose being left on their windshield at work, at home, or both…. Not much of a clue. If it was just one guy, it’d be weird, but not a major problem. Just a potential stalker they needed to identify and have a little chat with. Three guys with the rose man stalking them, however, was a big signal to Ben that someone out there was targeting gay men.

Some of the men didn’t live within the jurisdiction, so Larry was talking to other law enforcement, which complicated matters. Ben knew it wasn’t a big priority—gay men missing triggered Deliverance jokes or brought up John Wayne Gacy analogies.

The reality was that men going missing wasn’t the big news story or priority that kids or women were. Men wanted to believe they were all tough and that only weak and vulnerable people needed that sort of help. Plus, with no body, there was no proof of any crime. No blood at any scene and no witness to a struggle left them with nothing—it could just be a case of guys going out of town at the same time. Vacation, family emergency or whatever… To make it more challenging, some of the men worked and some didn’t.
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Ben turned off down the dirt path that wasn’t well marked as any sort of driveway or street—he’d been to that gay dive bar plenty in his life. People had to know their way around the backwoods to find it. He’d been coming here since he was fourteen.

Ben parked his car along the side of the bar. The surroundings were was all dirt and sparse grass until he hit the woods behind the place. The bar itself was a dingy one-floor glorified shack with a wraparound porch. Underage teens were kept to the porch unless they had a decent fake ID. Luckily it was only noon and the bar wasn’t officially open yet.

The owner, Charlie Mullins, sat on the back porch in a rocking chair. He was pushing sixty and the eternal hippie. Rumor had it plenty of weed was grown in the woods around the bar. He had to support the business somehow. Inside, the drinks were cheap but the décor was often updated. Huge flatscreens hung around the bar, pool tables and dart boards were along the side and there were dark corners, as well as a disco ball over the smallish dance floor.

Ben had to be careful how much he shared with Charlie. He wasn’t just an older gay guy and friend now—Charlie was part of a case, and Ben had to keep his professional boundaries clear for the sake of the victims. To him, Charlie wasn’t a suspect, but what he knew might crack the case. Every gay guy who walked in here trusted Charlie with his life.

“Ben, thank God it’s you.” Charlie waved and walked down from the porch. “Drove up for a delivery and saw this rolled-up tarp. I got close enough to check if it was garbage and I saw enough of a body to call Sheriff Larry.”

“Garbage?” Ben asked.

“Sometimes we get the skinheads setting a fire or dumping scrap parts after they butchered something. Sometimes it’s trash, but they usually set it on fire. I never expected a dead body.”

“We’ll get the CSI group out here.” Ben took initial pics with his cell phone and sent the text for backup. A piece of paper was taped to the plastic trash bag.

“I didn’t touch nothing,” Charlie said.

“Good call. Ya’ll might need to close down for a night or two,” Ben warned.

“Come on, you know that’d cause a panic,” Charlie said.

“Let’s just see. We’ll try to keep things quiet, but not much happens around here. People start asking questions whenever they hear a siren or see flashing lights.” Ben took a few more pics with his cell phone, put on gloves and gently peeled the tape off so he could see the piece of paper. It was neon pink, hard to miss once the outer layer of plastic was pulled back.

“It’s a flyer for the Valentine’s dance at the community center.” Ben shook his head at the name. Cupid’s Ball.

Charlie nodded. “Something scribbled on the back.”

Ben flipped it over.

What comes by the dozen and sells out fast on Valentine’s Day? I promise not to take out more than a dozen men…we might not be welcome at the ball but you should come and see if there are any of them left…

About the Author: A lover of unusual things, Cheryl Dragon enjoys writing unique stories with sinfully hot erotic romance. She loves cats, coffee and book signings where she can meet her fans. Cheryl lives in the Chicagoland area.

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CHERYL DRAGON IS GIVING AWAY A $20.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN AND GRAB YOUR FREE CHERYL DRAGON ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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An Invitation by Jasmine Hill – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 10, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Jasmine Hill who is celebrating the recent release of An Invitation, part of the My Bloody Valentine Collection. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and a FREE Jasmine Hill romance book!

Accept it if you dare…

Twenty-four-year-old personal trainer Bree Lewis has no time for love, so a mysterious invitation to a Valentine’s Weekend Gala has her intrigued. It seems crazy to accept, but perhaps she’ll meet a hot guy there who’ll be the distraction she desperately needs…even if the gala is taking place at a strange mansion in a secret location.

For weeks Vincent has been watching over Bree from the shadows, keeping her safe until the moment is right to make himself known to her. But when he sees Bree’s name on the Gala invitation list, he has no choice but to attend the event.

When Bree and Vincent meet, their attraction burns until the very air around them ignites. But things aren’t what they seem at the mansion and, shockingly, even Vincent is harboring a deadly secret. And when the guests start disappearing, it’s clear that something is very wrong.

Bree and Vincent are tested to their limits in their fight to escape the mansion and the deadly dangers that lurk there. It seems there’s no hope for the couple…unless Vincent is prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, death and gore.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Bree fingered the invitation. Thick card, heavy. Expensive. Gold, embossed print and gold love hearts in elegant filigree bordering the scalloped edge. A date, time and a title for the event, the Valentine’s Weekend Gala. She flipped it over, but the back offered no more information than the front, only an image of Cupid, bow and arrow raised, an impish grin on his cherubic face. No sender details or address or even a request for an RSVP. Just the date and time that she would be picked up and conveyed…somewhere. She studied the accompanying envelope, but there were no postmarks or postdates, nothing to indicate whence it came. Just her name in elegant script—Ms. Bree Regina Lewis.

She tapped a nail on the invitation, fascination taking hold. It was madness to consider going—she couldn’t even tell anyone where she’d be. But the intrigue and mystery were a heady attraction. With yet another Valentine’s Day looming bleak and unpromising, perhaps this event was just what she needed. And did the Cupid image mean something? Was it the promise of some kind of romance? But, really, who could be behind such an invite? The host must be a bored and eccentric millionaire with too much time and money on his hands.

The training schedule she’d been working on forgotten, she sat back in her chair and stared out of her office window. She could take a friend, but the invitation didn’t specify ‘plus one’. That should raise a red flag, but she wouldn’t let a small detail like that stop her, reckless as she was by nature.

Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday and she’d be picked up on the Friday, presumably for the gala the following evening. Friday the thirteenth… The day and date were considered unlucky and the movies by the same name definitely didn’t leave her with a warm, fuzzy feeling. But she wasn’t superstitious and the host hardly had a choice in the matter of dates if it was to be a Valentine’s weekend. It was obviously just a coincidence and nothing nefarious—really, a gift that she was lucky to be included in. And she had two weeks to plan her wardrobe.

According to the limited information provided, the Valentine’s Weekend Gala would start on the evening of the thirteenth and progress through to the afternoon of the fifteenth of February. Bree had no way of knowing if different attire was required for different events, so she’d just have to pack taking all considerations into account. And, of course, an evening gown would surely be required for the Saturday night Valentine Gala that must be taking place. She’d never been to a ball, so she’d need a dress for the occasion.

She logged into her online banking to check her account balance. The number of zeros was not promising, particularly when she took rent, food and bill payments into consideration. Her credit card balance looked more encouraging. She hadn’t been putting much on credit, purely because her personal life had been unexciting of late, to say the least. If she worked additional shifts she could easily pay for a new dress and shoes and some extras. It was worth it, to add some spice to her life.

She switched over to the gym training roster she’d been working on and typed her name into the vacant slots. Instructing boxing classes and early morning boot camps meant that she would have some early starts and later evenings. At least the Australian summer kept the days warm and sunny and enjoyable for any outdoor activity. Her personal training schedule could also bring in more income for one-on-one training. She input her name next to the clients who’d requested personal sessions. Normally she’d take about three to four per week, but for the next two weeks she ensured that she’d take two sessions a day. She’d have very little free time, but the extra money would be worth it.

She grabbed her mobile and selected her best friend’s contact. “Nell, tell me you don’t have anything going on this Saturday!”

“Hello to you too.” Nell laughed. “As it happens, I only have some laundry and housework to look forward to and I’ll do anything to put that off. What do you have in mind? Tell me it’s more interesting than my current plans. Please!”

“Are you up for a shopping trip?”
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“That depends. You’re not shopping for white goods, are you? If you need a new fridge, I think I’ll pass.”

Bree giggled. “No, I need a new dress—an evening dress—and I want your opinion.”

“Where are you going? Is the invite for two?”

Bree paused. How was she going to tell her best friend about the mysterious invitation? Nell would most certainly demand to go with her once she knew the details—or lack of.

“It’s a work thing,” Bree lied. “The gym’s putting on an event for our clients.”

She felt a pang of guilt about lying to her friend, but she reasoned it was for the best. Nell would just worry, and she knew her friend well enough to know that she wouldn’t let the issue go without a myriad of questions that Bree couldn’t answer. Nell was cautious and practical while Bree was bold and impulsive. They were yin and yang and always joked that it was their opposite characters that made them work as best friends.

Nell’s sigh reached her across the connection. “Fine. You go to your work thing and I’ll help you shop for it. Perhaps you’ll meet some hot gym junkie. Then you can stop focusing on that phantom man you keep dreaming about.”

Bree started when her friend mentioned the exact thing that had been in the back of her mind. Bree too hoped she’d meet someone who could dispel the man of her dreams. She cleared her throat. “Great. I’m taking training sessions until midday on Saturday. How about I pick you up at twelve-thirty? We can have lunch then shop afterwards.”

“Sounds good. See you then, girlfriend,” Nell sang before hanging up.

Bree smiled at her friend’s uncanny knack of seeming to read her mind. Bree had told Nell about her dreams and about the man who featured in them constantly. A man whom she’d never met. She couldn’t even liken him to anyone. He was an enigma. A handsome, spellbinding enigma who preoccupied her sleep. It was getting to the point where she found herself comparing all the men she met to the man of her dreams. It was strange how his scent would stay with her for hours after she awoke, a masculine spice like no other that stimulated her senses to a distracting level. It was troublesome and irritating and she hoped fervently that this mysterious Valentine’s Day Weekend would throw a physical, flesh-and-blood male into her path.

About the Author: Jasmine Hill was born in Australia and grew up in Sydney. She currently lives in Madrid, Spain with her husband.

She adores reading all genres but in particular she enjoys erotic romance novels and thrillers.

Jasmine loves writing and is always looking for new ideas for stories that will provoke inner passions, stimulate the senses and ignite the imagination.

Her interests include cooking, traveling, yoga and skiing.

She has won some short story competitions and is now excited to have started publishing her erotic romance stories through Totally Bound Publishing.

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ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GRAB YOUR FREE JASMINE HILL ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Shooting Valentine by Rebecca Fairfax – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 9, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Rebecca Fairfax who is celebrating today’s release of Shooting Valentine, part of the My Bloody Valentine Collection. Enter the giveaway to win a FREE Rebecca Fairfax romance book!

The heart is the most dangerous target.

Rafael de Almeida, Brazil’s most gorgeous TV heart-throb, is in London for PR events and to audition for a very different kind of role to the charming seducer he’s famous for and tired of. He wants gritty and raw, a part that asks him to do more than flash his sexy smile and flex his killer abs.

Ex-police officer Keeley Stewart has never even seen the historical costume drama Valentin that catapulted Rafael to fame, and couldn’t care less. He might be the sexiest man in Brazil, but Keeley, now working for a private agency, just wishes it wasn’t her assignment to look after Rafael while he’s in London. She can’t let him get under her skin, not when she’s there to save his.

And literally so, when someone takes a shot at Rafael within minutes of her meeting him. Soon, mounting threats and betrayals leave the pair stuck with each other and on the run, trying to find out who wants Rafael dead. They also discover there’s much more to the other than ‘dumb cop’ and ‘spoiled silver-screen star’, and that, despite themselves, they have a whole lot more in common than just the white-hot attraction blazing between them…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes describing attempted murder.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The saucy-looking redhead, one of five similarly dressed women in the VIP room of Harts nightclub, licked her lips, leaving them shiny. She pouted, her message clear. Pick me! Pick me! Rafael de Almeida, receiving it loud and clear, threw her a sly wink in acknowledgement, making sure the other women in their split skirts, waist-cinching belts and laced leather corsets over low-cut white blouses didn’t see. He turned to the waiting fan club president who was overseeing this meet-and-greet. He’d been doing this long enough to know the best practice.

“Kath.” He’d studied the information that his PA, Lourdes, had given him, and now made sure to pronounce this woman’s name correctly, despite the th sound being tricky for a Brazilian. She’d made the effort to say his properly, sounding the R farther back in her throat, almost like an H. “Kath, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me choose just one of these beautiful ladies, would you? Especially when they’ve all taken such trouble with their Marisol costumes, hmm?”
He plucked the red rose from the basket that Nita, the fan club secretary, was carrying. “This should go to Kath, for organising this, don’t you think, ladies?” He presented the sweet-smelling, long-stemmed flower to her, making her blush, before grinning at the five women dressed like the female lead in his former series. “And there’s something for all of you, for all your hard work as regional club leaders too.”

Only half of them asked for a kiss on their cheeks as he signed each of them a glossy new photo from the shoot Lourdes had set up especially for his first foray into Europe, making for a relatively calm atmosphere in this club. He hadn’t heard one hyena-like shriek, seen fat, glistening tears in any eyes or felt any pincer-like fingers squeezing his ass all evening.
Maybe English fans were more inhibited than Latin or South American ones? In which case, thank God. Or maybe they were overawed by this South Kensington club, one of London’s most exclusive—not a place they’d be likely to frequent, making it an extra bonus for the fan club organizers and the fans who’d won the contest to meet him. He wondered why Lourdes had chosen Harts. She’d probably googled ‘chic clubs, London’ and gone with the venue judged the most ‘in’ or snootiest. It was tame, compared to some of the wilder places he’d been to in his native Rio, or in South America, but he liked it. Lourdes would too, if she were here.

He made sure the secretary got plenty of photos for the fan mag, as well as the few members of the press who were there for their magazines or papers, and paid extra attention to the guy from Taffeta, who was writing a feature.

The wet-lipped redhead from earlier looked from him to the life-size cut-out of him that was part of the temporary décor of the chic VIP area. “Hoped you might come in your costume,” she murmured.

Rafael followed the direction of her gaze to the cardboard version of him. Its leather boots showed off long legs, its tight breeches clung to toned thighs and the mostly unlaced flowing poet’s shirt showcased firm abs and broad shoulders. His hair had been longer then, left messy in careless waves well over his collar, for the lighter tones of sandy brown near his face to highlight his dark green eyes. He tilted his head from the historical Valentin to the cardboard figure on the other side of the cordoned-off space. The costume drama Valentin had been followed by the contemporary Heart of Valentin, with him glossier and sleeker, but still dedicated to taking from the rich and greedy and distributing it to the poor and downtrodden.

“I got a new designer suit and shirt!” he joked. “Ones Valentin 2.0 would wear.” He was tieless as usual, his shirt open at the neck, but the pocket square sticking out of his breast pocket made up for that lack.

“It’s…nice,” the woman agreed.

Rafael wondered what adjectives were really running through her mind. These sorts of events were difficult enough as it was—for all he made them look easy—without the added cringe factor of appearing in a costume from a long-running historical TV drama that had been off the air for three years. Gone but not forgotten…

Well-trained but a little restless, he stood as soon as he’d finished signing photos and strode deeper into the roped-off VIP space, which wasn’t in a side or back room here at Harts, but up ladder-like steps from the main floor of the club. The second part involved greeting the competition-winning fans.

Seeing that one of the guests was a guy made him stop. “Are you a reluctant plus-one?” he asked the man.

“No. No. I mean, no.” The young guy clapped a shaky hand to his breast, beating it as if in time with an accelerated heart rate. He shook his spiky blond head. “I’m a fan! Got the poster and everything. Brought it for you to sign…”

Rafael closed his eyes. He bet he knew which poster the guy was referring to before he unrolled it—Valentin sitting on the ground against a bale of straw, one leg stretched out and one bent, shirt mostly undone. Yep. He fingered the holes in the corners from where the poster had been thumbtacked to a wall.

“Didn’t you know you had an LGBT following?” the guy asked, his tone faltering as Rafael paused.

“LGBTI,” Rafael corrected with a grin, signing the poster. “Yeah, there’s a lesbian and gay chapter of the fan club. Oh, and two years ago, a drag queen float in the carnival chose Marisol and Isaura—if you remember that character—as their theme and invited me as the guest of honour. Great fun. I wasn’t aware I was popular with gays in the UK, though.”

The guy scoffed. “What, the guy judged the Sexiest Man in Brazil?”

“That was a few years back,” Rafael demurred.

“Well, Sexiest Man on TV, three years running?”

Rafael laughed and shook the guy’s hand before moving on. He suddenly wished Lourdes were with him, but her being eight months pregnant had taken that off the table. And no—he’d wanted to come alone. To take a break. Or…make this the forerunner to a break. He paused near the balcony railing of this raised section and looked down over the club floor. The place had been decked out for Valentine’s and gleamed with the requisite hearts-and-flowers décor. The tables behind him sported crystal dishes containing heart-shaped chocolates in shiny pink and red wrappers, and the tables below held fat pink and red roses.
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“Is Diana with you?” a reporter called out behind him.

“They split up,” half a dozen voices answered, the duh loud in their tones. “Amicably,” at least two people added.

It wasn’t a line for the press—it was true. Didi—Diana—a model and now an Instagram influencer, whatever that was, and he were both busy and had barely seen each other towards the end. All his splits had been amicable. Mimi, his Marisol, who’d sadly been deemed too old now to be his love interest in Valentin 2.0, and he remained friends, meeting up for dinners regularly. Joana, the rally driver who’d competed in the Dakar race, and he still went to each other’s events. Oh, his relationships were heated, hot and heavy, as his friend Ro liked to say, just not…deep. The way he liked it.

“Does that mean you’re free to dance?”

He turned back to the group at that invite, delivered by the hopeful redhead, and, grinning, held out his hand to her. He answered questions from the press in between dances. Yes, he was looking forward to seeing a little of London. Yes, he was here for a Valentine event in Europe. Yes, he was here alone…

Which made him pause. There was supposed to be an agency PA or handler or something. The efficient and organised Lourdes had set it up, and he doubted she’d have made a mistake. He’d been meaning to call her and ask but hadn’t wanted to worry her, and he was managing fine by himself. He’d found the hotel from the airport—okay, the driver waiting for him had. He’d found this club. Well, all right, the cab the hotel porter had whistled up from the rank had. But he’d been doing this for so long that he knew the drill. He’d been doing this for so long that he needed if not a break, then a change…

As if his thoughts had become a wish, he spied his quarry. Franz Peterson. “Excuse me.” Rafael kissed the hand of his current partner and left her at the bottom of the VIP stairs, then waved at the short, squat, balding London director and the taller woman with him. “We meet at last. So pleased you came.”

Franz gave a crooked-toothed slash of a grin that was more like a grimace. “After you badgering me nonstop on the phone to set up a meet? Yeah, we do. Oh, and you’ve got her to thank.” Her was the woman he was with, if the jerk of his thumb towards her meant that. His new wife, his long-term casting director in the string of gritty, often gangland, movies he made. “She loves you. I should hate you,” Franz added.

“Well, I hope you don’t, seeing as I want to work with you.” Rafael stared him in the eye before taking his wife’s hand and kissing it. He ordered them all a drink while Franz was still grating out a rusty laugh at what he’d said.

“Lemme see I got this straight,” Franz said a few minutes later, swirling his glass, making the ice cubes clink. “You wanna audition for my next film? You know I make movies about schemers, criminals, crooks, gangs, con men—underworld figures in general, where nobody comes off well, right? Films with a lot of action, a lot of fights, a lot of blood…”

“I do and I like them all. You’re an excellent director and storyteller and deserve every one of the accolades you’ve won.”

“Well, thanks, I guess, but I dunno.” Franz looked him up and down. Rafael knew what he was seeing—the perfect white teeth, the tan complexion, the glossy hair, the expensive suit. “You looking to change your image? Think you can pull off gritty Latino from the streets, yeah?”

Rafael had to laugh. The guy had no idea. “Oh, I might be closer than you know.” The short but powerful man didn’t intimidate him in the least. “And what have you got to lose?” Rafael held eye contact, so the director was the first to drop his gaze.

“I’ll give it some thought,” he muttered. “Amy?”

“It…could be interesting…” his wife replied, slowly.

Rafael kissed her cheek this time, as he saw them both off. Franz had been wavering, swayed by the publicity of Rafael de Almeida auditioning for one of his signature hand-grenade-to-a-fist-fight movies, and Rafael bet he’d let the news leak, and soon. Good. He’d miss the Ouro TV Network that had been his home since he’d started working in the industry, and its owner, Alberto Marchal. Both had treated him well, Alberto something of a surrogate father, but it was time to move on.

Inviting him to audition would be more than a publicity stunt—Rafael thought Amy Peterson had seen beyond that. She excelled at her job, and her husband bowed to her expertise. Rafael had grown up having to hustle, to work hard for what he wanted, and had no scruples about doing so now, using every weapon at his disposal.

A woman waiting in line to enter the club caught his attention. It wasn’t her looks or appearance that made him pause—although the pretty brunette was nicely, if a little conservatively, dressed—but her manner. The way she moved her head slowly, taking everything in about her surroundings, but not like a first-timer at a glitzy place might, trying to impress it all on her memory. More like a soldier might, say, scanning, assessing for threats or danger. Interesting.

As if feeling his scrutiny, she turned her head slowly and caught his eye. Intrigued, Rafael raised an eyebrow in invitation, to be met with a narrow-eyed glare. He laughed, then inclined his head—it was her turn to speak to the door guardians and they’d indicated as much, twice. She scowled at him and hurried forwards. He almost walked up to help, but someone called his name from inside.

Duty calls. Pasting on a smile, he went to answer it.

About the AuthorAfter having lived and worked all over Europe, Rebecca Fairfax is back in her native UK, bursting to share all the stories she’s dreamed up and describe all the places she’s seen and all the people she’s met. Romantic suspense, light contemporary, urban fantasy—it’s all on the way.

Her life is not her own—it belongs to her demanding Old English Sheepdog and her bossy British Blue cat. Once she accepted that, things got easier.

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ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A FREE REBECCA FAIRFAX ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Dare Darker by Pepper North – Spotlight

February 9, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Pepper North as she celebrates today’s release of Dare Darker.

Number one bestselling erotic author, Pepper North, dares to go darker in the Leave Me Breathless Black Rose Collection…

Do you want your fantasies to come true?

When this simple question appears on her computer, Mia Daniels dares to answer ‘Yes’. One honest response sends the willowy brunette on a collision course with her every forbidden desire.

Domineering and magnetic, Rafael Montalvo selects Mia to be his at first sight. Soon, she is ensnared in his shadowy world, unable to resist the new life that he controls completely. Rafael’s darkness just might be everything Mia has ever needed. And so much more.

*** TRIGGER WARNING: The stories in the Black Rose Collection are considered dark romance. Some aspects may be sensitive for some readers. ***

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About the Author: Pepper North is a hybrid author whose contemporary, paranormal, dark, and erotic romances have won the hearts of many loyal readers. After publishing her first book, Zoey: Dr. Richards’ Littles 1 on Amazon in July 2017, she now has over fifty books and collections available on Amazon in four series. Listed among Amazon’s Most Popular Erotic Authors, Pepper has enjoyed trading off that coveted number one position with incredible authors. Pepper is exhilarated to be a USA Today Bestselling Author. She credits her success to her amazing fans, the support of the writing community, and her dedication to writing. Join the addiction… #peppered!

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Love’s Curse by Ellen Mint/Perfect Duet by Aliyah Burke – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 8, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Ellen Mint and Aliyah Burke who are celebrating the recent release of their books Love’s Curse and Perfect Duet, part of the My Bloody Valentine Collection. Enter the giveaway for a chance to win a free Ellen Mint or Aliyah Burke book.

Valentine’s Day isn’t all about chocolates and roses…this year, it’s deadly. These stories are set around the most romantic day of the year, with characters who might just have to fight for their lives as well as their loves.

Love can never die.

Emma intends to spend another Valentine’s Day with the dead Egyptian princess she’s studying, but her world of museums and mummies is hurled into chaos by the arrival of a man, one who looks like if sex was a librarian.

Tarek is fascinated with Emma’s research into the famous heartbroken princess mummy…and she wishes he’d be fascinated with her too. When her hand touches his, a curse millennia in the making unfolds, and the heartbroken princess rises from her tomb.

In this heart-racing story of love, betrayal and death, two people find themselves trying to defy history and come together…with the help of a goddess of love. Can their love defy death itself?

CONTEMPORARY, EROTIC ROMANCE, THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE, VALENTINES

When a vacation becomes running for your life, will you trust the one forced to be at your side?

It was supposed to be a vacation…

SWAT officer Xahara Asher is on vacation, meeting her cousins for some downtime. Taken captive during a heist, she is prompted to work with her kidnapper just to stay alive.

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Tossed into tight quarters, things heat up rapidly between them. When it all goes down and the smoke clears, who will still be standing?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, kidnapping, and references to off-page murder.

CONTEMPORARY, EROTIC ROMANCE,THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE,VALENTINES

About the Author: Ellen Mint adores the adorkable heroes who charm with their shy smiles and heroines that pack a punch. She recently won the Top Ten Handmaid’s Challenge on Wattpad where hers was chosen by Margaret Atwood. Her books, Undercover Siren and Fever are available at Amazon as well as a short story in the Lucky Between The Sheets anthology. Married, she lives in Nebraska with her dog named after Granny Weatherwax. Her hobbies include gaming, painting, and halloween prop making. The basement is full of skeletons because they ran out of room in the closets.

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Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is happily married to a career military man. They are owned by six Borzoi. She spends her days at the day job, writing, and working with her dogs. She loves to hear from her readers.

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Buy Love’s Curse and Perfect Duet at your favorite venue.

Check out the My Bloody Valentine Collection at First for Romance.

ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A FREE ELLEN MINT OR ALIYAH BURKE ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 16th February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

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Dark Valentine and Blood Red Roses by J.P. Bowie and S.J. Coles – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 5, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes J.P. Bowie and S.J. Coles, authors of Dark Valentine and Blood Red Roses, from the My Bloody Valentine collection, which were recently released. Enter to win a J.P. Bowie ebook.

Valentine’s Day isn’t all about chocolates and roses…this year, it’s deadly. These stories are set around the most romantic day of the year, with characters who might just have to fight for their lives as well as their loves.

Dark Valentine

Valentine’s Night, when the line between the real and unreal becomes blurred…

New boyfriends Brandon and Ryder are invited to an upscale Valentine’s party in Santa Monica. Brandon had heard how ‘fabulous’ the parties are, so he’s surprised by the creepy décor, and some even creepier ghouls who seem to have taken the place of the hosts. They can’t be real, can they?

An erotic cabaret that ends with one of the dancers seemingly either killed or seriously injured upsets Brandon. Ryder attempts to calm him down, but they’re both horrified when they discover a dead body upstairs with a knife embedded in its chest.

What the heck kind of a party is this?

And will Ryder and Brandon live to find out?

ACTION AND ADVENTURE, CONTEMPORARY, EROTIC ROMANCE, GAY, GLBTQI, VALENTINES

Blood Red Roses

Rick feels like he’s finally getting his life on track…until a dead body in his flat threatens to derail more than his new career.

Things are finally looking up for Rick Bennett. He’s landed a job with Swanson and Gerrard, one of the top finance firms in London and, with it, a chance to pay off his father’s debts and finally make something of his life.

When he’s put in charge of brokering the biggest deal in the company’s history, he knows he can’t lose, even though his boss, Cecily Swanson, clearly wants more than just a professional relationship.

When a rich, handsome stranger, Kim Bailey, introduces himself to Rick at the Swansons’ New Year’s Eve party, Rick is thinking he can definitely get used to rubbing elbows with the upper set. He feels everything is finally working out, despite Cecily’s increasing interest that only seems to strengthen as they approach her high-profile Valentine’s Day wedding.

It is interesting to note that conversations can be easily recorded and used later in everyday order levitra online operations. There are various generic levitra heartburn remedies, no magical instant ones, they take their own course of time, but give assured and long lasting relief from this madness. Erectile dysfunction is a disorder where viagra rx a person becomes very capable to cope with everyday stress. online purchase viagra It becomes quite difficult for the penis to penetrate without firm erections. When someone is murdered in his flat, Rick is shocked but still determined to hold on to his dream. Cecily believes he’s innocent and, more importantly, so does Kim. Though he’s beginning to suspect that there’s more to the guy than meets the eye, Kim’s belief in Rick keeps him strong.

As the investigation continues and Rick finds himself buried deeper in a mess of conspiracy, betrayal and intrigue, he will come to wonder whether the life he’s dreamed of could ever be real.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of public sex, violence and murder.

CONTEMPORARY, CRIME, EROTIC ROMANCE, GAY, GLBTQI, THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE, VALENTINES

About the AuthorsJ.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company.

He emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. He is currently living with his husband in sunny San Diego, California.

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S. J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.

She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.

Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.

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Buy Dark Valentine at your favorite venue.
Buy Blood Red Roses at your favorite venue.
Buy both books at First for Romance.

ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A FREE J.P. BOWIE ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 16th February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Filed Under: Erotic Romance, Guest Blogs Tagged With: Giveaway, J.P. Bowie, S.J. Coles

Dragon Dreams and Fairy Wings by Bailey Bradford – Spotlight and Giveaway

February 1, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Bailey Bradford, author of Dragon Dreams and Fairy Wings, the first book in the Fire & Flutter series. Enter to win a fabulous gift package and a FREE Bailey Bradford romance book!

When one fairy with a faulty memory meets a snarky dragon, the supernatural world will never be the same.

Griff was born a Love fairy, but he never quite fitted in. He didn’t want to be part of a harem…at least he didn’t think so. What with his wings gone and his memory damaged, he can’t be certain of what he felt in the past. All he does know is he wants his wings back. Without them, he’s grounded.

Blaze is a dragon shifter who tends to stick his foot in his mouth—and some other parts in other places—when he really shouldn’t. His brother’s the king, and his sister-in-law is scary. Blaze’s last screw-up got him grounded, unable to shift into his dragon form. His punishment seems harsh to him, but there’s no escaping it.

When the Love fairies come to the castle to work on forming an alliance, Blaze has about had it with guarding the horny beings, and he’s disappointed that they don’t stay small and cute. Swatting at something buzzing him, he almost starts an inter-species war when it turns out to be a fairy on a dragonfly.

And from that snarky first meeting between Griff and Blaze, something wonderful, and dangerous, will come…

Publisher’s Note: This book was previously released elsewhere. It has been revised and reedited for re-release with Pride Publishing.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Blaze rubbed his shoulder where it still ached. He’d been lucky the whip had only caught him a glancing blow, otherwise he’d really be in pain.

Of course, even being whipped would be better than his punishment of not being allowed to fly. Or shift. Being stuck in the puny human form and dependent on two scrawny legs just sucked troll balls.

That imagery almost made Blaze gag. Trolls smelled really bad, worse than the dragon dumping grounds—and if anyone needed an explanation for what that area was, they didn’t have a nose.

Plus, trolls were ugly. It was part of them being trolls and all. They also tended to have large, pendulous balls that swung down close to their ankles.

Blaze did gag then, pressing a hand against his stomach. He had to get his mind out of the troll gutter.

“Hey, freak, heard you got your powers taken away, all for a piece of ass.”

Blaze glared at Bort. “Oh, yeah. Your dad wasn’t worth it.”

“My—” Bort’s eyes glowed red, and smoke gusted from his nostrils. “I’ll bake you, you fucking freak!”

Blaze kept his trembling inside. He’d learned not to show any fear to bullies. “Go ahead. King Fyre will be thrilled with you. You’ll look great on a spit.”

“You think just ’cause your brother’s the king means…”

Blaze arched an eyebrow at Bort—which he knew looked cool, because he’d practiced it until he had it perfected and he knew how awesome that one arched eyebrow thing was. “It pretty much means he’ll toast you if you lay a hand on me.”

The only reason the guy who’d hit Blaze with a whip wasn’t dead was because Blaze had kind of deserved it. Kind of, because he hadn’t known Valdez was married to another man. Otherwise, Blaze wouldn’t have fucked him. Probably. Blaze’s morals were questionable at times, but only because he was so desperate for someone to touch him.

“Right, whatever,” Bort drawled. “You’ll probably cook yourself anyway and save all the good dragons the trouble. Crazy Blazy.” He cackled and flipped Blaze off with both hands.

Probably with his toes, too, but Blaze didn’t think to check. Instead he watched enviously as Bort shifted into a gorgeous teal and gold dragon.

Bort blew a stream of fire right past Blaze’s head, then flapped his mighty wings and flew off. A rancid scent lingered in the air.

Blaze sighed and touched his hair that Bort had just singed. Everyone was going to think he’d done that to himself—again. Even though he was grounded, assumptions would be made that he’d done something stupid to burn his own hair, and rumors would fly. He’d have to worry about that later, if at all. Right now, he had to deal with a bully. Blaze really missed being able to shoot flames.

It was true that he couldn’t control his fire, and he could be dangerous. He hadn’t killed anyone on accident, yet, though. “Sheesh.” Blaze sniffed and fanned the air around him. It was no use. The smell was on his head. He could fan all day, and it wouldn’t make any difference.

Resigned to walking all the way back to his nest—which meant heading through the center of the dragon city, since he could no longer fly—Blaze prepared himself for the looks and murmurs. People would be talking about him more than usual today. He ought to be used to such stuff, but the truth was, it always hurt.

Even so, when he heard the buzz of conversations around him, Blaze held his head up high, despite the burnt hair. He hoped everyone gossiping about him got a snoot full of the noxious odor.

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“Where did I put my shoes?” Griff fluttered as much as a fairy without wings could as he looked for his soft purple shoes. Surprisingly, he could flutter a lot, although that translated into gestures with his hands and much twitching on his behalf.

“Did Egregio eat them?” Gia asked, hovering above him.

Griff glared at her. “Could you maybe not do that? I already feel like a complete loser without my wings.” Who knew they could be knocked off you? Griff hadn’t, and it’d come as a shock to the other fairies in his frolic. Of course, Love fairies weren’t exactly brainiacs. They were more into the sensual than the mental. For brains, people looked to the Genius fairies, though good luck to anyone wanting help from those snobs. They didn’t speak to anyone with an IQ under one-sixty—which left out most of the magic world.

“Sorry.” Gia floated down and grimaced. “Ick. How can you tolerate standing all the time? My legs don’t like it. It’s work. It’s so much easier to fly, or—” She smirked.

“Don’t go there.” Griff knew his own kind through and through. As a Love fairy, he shouldn’t be bothered by hearing about his sister’s sexual escapades. Maybe he was just jealous. “Keep your sordid stories to yourself.”

Gia crossed her eyes at him. “Please. How did a prude get hatched into our frolic?”

“I’ve asked myself that a thousand times,” Griff muttered. “Aha!”

“Aha what?”

Griff knelt and stuck his hand under his bed, then reached farther. “I swear to the gods, Egregio, if you bite me, I will feed you to the dragons.”

“Rawr!” It sounded more like a whine than not.

Griff ducked his head and looked at the catterwaul under his bed. Much like the human-world cat except with two legs and large, hairy toes, and fangs the size of Griff’s index fingers, the beast was rather fierce-looking.

“I’m not joking. Last time you bit me, it got infected. You’re lucky I didn’t toss you out then.”

Beady red eyes glowed at him. “Rawr rawr rawr.”

“Yeah, you’re sorry now.” Griff wiggled his fingers. “Give me my shoes.”

The purple shoes were tossed at him while Egregio continued to vocalize.

“I know, I know, they’re pretty. That’s why I like them, too. Now if you’re good, and you keep the dung beetles away for a whole week, I’ll see about getting you your own shoes.” Catterwauls were great to have as long as they were loyal. Sometimes they forgot that, though.

A few more rawrs and Griff was pretty sure he had his catterwaul vowing to fight off the shiny green beetles that migrated through the area on the way to the dragon dumping grounds. Griff hoped so. The buzz of beetle wings always left him with serious headaches as well as memories of the worst time in his life.

“Okay, got my shoes on, Gia. Now we can go…” Griff spun around, looking for his sister, but no. She had left the mushroom’s interior at some point. “Great. Great! Now how am I going to find my way to where my wings might be?”

Griff couldn’t remember things like he should have been able to. The hit he’d taken from a human’s fly swatter had cracked his skull, knocked off his wings and almost killed him. His memory hadn’t been right ever since, but he was lucky to even be alive.

Although the term lucky was relative. If he couldn’t find his wings, what point would there be to life?

About the Author:A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

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Buy the book at your favorite venue or First for Romance.

BAILEY BRADFORD IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GRAB YOUR FREE BAILEY BRADFORD ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 9th February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Filed Under: Erotic Romance, Guest Blogs Tagged With: Bailey Bradford, Giveaway

Of Alchemists and Arsonists by Katherine McIntyre – Spotlight and Giveaway

January 29, 2021 By Long and Short Reviews Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Katherine McIntyre, author of Of Alchemists and Arsonists, book 3 in the The Whitfield Files series. Enter to win a lovely gift pack and a free Katherine McIntyre romance book.

All Nate Whitfield wanted to do was stay out of trouble—but then he met Belle…

In setting up his apothecary emporium in Islington, Nate Whitfield knew he’d be facing all manner of cracksmen and scum—after all, his cousins were once a part of that underworld. However, when a stunner of a woman bursts into his shop to hide from her former gang, he can’t help but offer shelter.

Isobel Griffiths, an arsonist with a knack for setting blazes unseen, has wanted her freedom ever since her parents sold her to notorious gang leader Jack Blair. Drawn into Isobel’s whirlwind, Nate is soon smitten…as is she.

Belle’s clever, but to escape Blair’s clutches, she’ll need more than wits—she’ll need Nate’s alchemy. And if their plan doesn’t succeed, it could spiral into a gang feud deadly enough to tear all of Islington apart.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, death and injury. There are references to a parent selling a child into slavery.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Just another day in this nightmare of a neighborhood.

When Nate had decided—or, truly, had been forced—to abandon his home in Ipswich, the spot in London where his cousins Theo and Ellie wrestled up trouble in one hand and livelihoods in the other had seemed to be his best, and only, option.

He heaved a sigh and rearranged the glass bottles on the shelves, making the display more even. Different colored liquids glowed with pearlescent promise, while others looked like the sludge scraped off shoes at the end of the day.

The first time his shop had been broken into overnight, Theo had strolled by to install a complex locking mechanism on the door sure to keep thieves out.

The second time his shop had been broken into in the middle of the day, Ellie had arrived to place a derringer in his palm with a warning to practice his aim.

His grip tightened around the glass neck of one of the corked bottles that glowed with a substance bluer than the ocean. He’d handcrafted each of these potions, and he just wanted to make a living off practicing the alchemy he’d studied for years to master. That had been his past trajectory, until the Darlingtons had involved themselves in his business. He swallowed hard as a familiar wave of ugliness washed over him, as bitter as wormwood. Like he’d be able to find his way in this forest of fools. Thus far, he’d just brought disappointment to his family.

He finished arranging the glass bottles and returned to stand behind the counter. He’d stationed it at the back end of the store with a sometimes-useful register and plenty of shelves built into the structure, which left room to sort his voluminous back supply of herbs. Most of his potions wouldn’t be possible without a well-stocked apothecary of tonics, herbs and digestives. He used those basics to perform his alchemy—a lavender tea could be transmuted into a jar of moonlight while chamomile and lemon peel could become bottled sunshine. The possibilities were endless.

Nate lifted one of the bags of lavender, inhaling as if the gentle fragrance might help calm his nerves. Every day that he opened his shop to the world turned into another triumph and another risk—whether from irritable customers or the thieves running rampant through this part of town. He tightened his grip around the bag. He missed his home something dreadful.

He hummed a tune to himself and pulled out a bag of peppermint and one of pennyroyal, setting them out on the countertop by the scales. While he waited for the normal riffraff to come tumbling through those doors begging to barter or offer less coin than sensible, he’d at least continue creating more product. He’d learned all of his alchemy from his uncle, a soul stolen far too early from this world. Consumption was a cruel disease.

He shook some peppermint onto the scale, the tiny dried leaves collecting in the center.

The door swung open hard enough for the glass to rattle.

Nate paused mid-shake and slid his free hand under the counter for the derringer Ellie had brought him.

Not another robbery. A third time and he was tempted to hurl himself into the Thames.

A woman bolted in, her shoulders heaving and her breaths coming out like punctuation marks.

She slammed the door closed, but he didn’t get a full glimpse of her until she whirled around to face him. She was dressed like a shift worker in mahogany trousers, a blue shirt rolled up to the elbows and a red kerchief around her neck. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and the sharp look in her deep-set eyes pinned him on the spot. With her full lips and slender features, she possessed an arresting beauty.

Panic flashed in her eyes. “Help me.” She crossed the space between them. “I need somewhere to hide.”

Nate swallowed hard. Anyone on the run would bring more trouble with them than he wanted to deal with in a lifetime. However, once she stepped to the counter, the pleading in her umber eyes swayed him.

“Here,” he said, gesturing behind the counter. The bottom shelf was large enough to fit the wastebasket he had stationed there. He pulled out the wastebasket and set it beside him where he was working at the scales. “You can try to squeeze in.”

She nodded, her ponytail bobbing with the motion. The woman crouched and began to wedge herself into the confined space, folding up with surprising ease.

“Thank you,” she said once she’d settled inside, even though her voice came out muffled.

Nate raked fingers through his hair and heaved out a sigh. He’d left home to avoid trouble, yet from the moment he’d arrived in Islington, he’d found more and more. How his cousins survived around here mystified him. The scale wavered as he picked up the bag of peppermint and set to his task again, even while his heart raced a thousand leagues per second.

What sort of trouble had this woman found herself in?

The looming figures crowding in front of his door answered the question. Based on their scowls, their trousers in ill repair and the weapons weighing down their belts, the gang sort of trouble.

Yet again, his poor glass door went flying open, clanging against the wall with a reverberation that made him wince. The biggest of the three men loped toward him, his heavy steps audible through the room, causing the glass bottles on the shelves to rattle. Nate would have to reorganize them.

The man stopped in front of the counter, his dark eyes flashing with intended threat. “Where’s the girl?”

About the Author:Strong women. Strong words.

Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that represent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women. Easily distracted by cats and sugar.

Instagram | First for Romance Author Page | Facebook Group | Newsletter | GoodreadsBuy the book at your favorite venue or First for Romance.

Katherine McIntyre’s Of Alchemists and Arsonists

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1 Star – We currently do not post a review of any story with a 1 star rating. If it’s DNF or a “wall-banger” we decline to review.

2 Stars — Disappointing. There may be some minor editing glitches but not enough to stop you reading. Not a wall-banger, but nothing you’d re-read. This is a book you might borrow from the library--never buy--and never check out again. There's a small chance you might recommend it to a friend with a mention of the glitches, knowing that something in the plot or story would still appeal to them regardless.

3 Stars — Okay. You made it through and didn’t consider it a waste of time. The story was strong enough, so even when the book faltered, it was able to draw you back in and keep you. There’s a chance you’ll recommend it to a friend, but it wouldn’t go on your keeper shelf, you wouldn't buy it, and you wouldn't re-read it.

4 Stars — Good. You’re glad you were the one who got to review the book. You would probably buy it and would very likely recommend it to your friends. You liked the characters and the plot. The writing style was good and the editing clean. You would read more books by this author.

5 Stars — Excellent! You would definitely buy this book. You would definitely recommend it to your friends. You really loved the characters and the plot and would consider looking for the author's back list or making her an autobuy. The writing and editing were superb.

LASR Best Book – For a book or story that is truly exceptional. You think about it when you’re not reading it. You wonder what happens to the characters when you finish. You would absolutely buy everything else this author had to offer. The highest praise – and reserved for only a few.