That Killer Smile by Juliet Lyons

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Juliet Lyons who is celebrating the recent release of That Killer Smile, the third book in her Bite Nights series. Enter to win a copy of the first book in her Bite Nights series, Dating the Undead.

THERE WILL BE HEAT…
Vampire Catherine Adair gave up trying to find her perfect match ages ago. But that didn’t stop her from founding London’s super successful vampire dating site. When a smoldering vampire overlord from her past launches an interspecies speed-dating service, Catherine vows to crush the competition….

WHEN THESE TWO COMPETE
Ronin’s new venture is purely about getting Catherine’s attention. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her ever since the night she gave him the cold shoulder. Nobody gets away from Ronin McDermott that easily…

Enjoy an Excerpt

My first thought when I see the smashed lock is, How on earth did a burglar make it past Mrs. Colangelo?

I shove the door open and step inside. There, sitting—no lounging—in my Laura Ashley recliner and stroking Wentworth, is Ronin fuck weasel McDermott.

My eyes bulge as I absorb the preposterous scene of him sitting with my pet in his lap. He looks like an infuriatingly hot James Bond villain.

“Evening, Catherine,” he says with a nod of his head.

I glare into his intense blue eyes, fists clenching. “What the actual fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

He cocks a brow before rising from the chair, taking Wentworth with him. The latter stays snuggled under his arm, as docile as a newborn lamb.

Pointing at Wentworth, I hiss, “Did you glamour my cat?”

A cloud of confusion passes across his handsome features. “Why on God’s earth would I glamour a cat?”

Without missing a beat, I snap, “That’s what you do to get people to like you.”

He feigns an injured look before setting Wentworth down on the carpet. Then he reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a tiny object. It twinkles beneath the light. “You dropped this earring in my office. It must have fallen out when you kissed me.”

I snort in derision. “Ha! Yeah, I kissed you. Good one. And you came all the way here, broke in to my apartment just to return it to me?”

“I’ll get the lock fixed,” he says, placing the earring on the coffee table. “And I didn’t break in as such. One of your neighbors let me up.”

I shake my head. “Let me guess, an Italian lady in a robe?”

He smiles and I try not to notice how it softens the hard lines of his strong features, how his cool-blue eyes are suffused with warmth.

“There’s a chance she believes lover boy next door is bisexual.”

“What the hell did you tell her?” I ask, folding arms across my chest. The mention of Peter comes as a shock. Being in the same room as Ronin McDermott, I’ve already forgotten he exists.

“Nothing she didn’t secretly long to hear. So who is this guy anyway? Should I be jealous?”

My stomach flips, my mind skipping back to that moment in his office when I left him with a hard-on in the presence of Playboy bunnies. “Jealous?” I try to inject venom into my voice, but my heart isn’t in it. “Tell me, did you enjoy yourself with those girls the other afternoon?”

His brows knit. He looks genuinely flummoxed. “What girls?”

I toss my bag onto the sofa. “Meant that much to you, did they?”

He stays frozen to the spot, brows drawn. “Do you really think I care about other girls?”

His voice is low, as cracked as splintered glass. Suddenly, it seems as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. As I meet his burning gaze, it’s like the last couple of days—work, my date with Peter—never happened. I’m back in his office right before his lips landed on mine.

Except this time neither of us budge.

“You’re a sickness,” he says at last in that same fractured tone. “Don’t you see? A sickness in my veins.”

My brain sifts through responses at a hundred miles per hour, but my vocal chords remain frozen in my throat. I watch him like he’s a tiger, waiting for him to strike.

But he doesn’t pounce. He sighs instead, his jaw tightly clenched. “I’ve never wanted to upset you, Catherine. I’m sorry for what I did that night—biting you and giving you my venom. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I snap.

“I’ll be honest,” he continues. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start the speed-dating nights to get your attention. But I had no intention of ruining your business. In a way, it’s a compliment.”

My jaw drops in disbelief. “A compliment? Are you completely unhinged? Do you really have your head shoved so far up your ass that you don’t get why I can’t stand you?”

He shakes his head, holding out his hands, palms up. There’s desperation in his voice I’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve never once tried to play the ancient card with you. I never will, no matter how badly you piss me off.”

I stare at him, half believing he doesn’t have a clue, half-angry this is just another of his manipulative games.

“This isn’t about details. It’s about the bigger picture. One you’ve never bothered to try and get your arrogant head around. Who am I, Ronin?” The happiness the evening brought is leaking out of me faster than air from a burst balloon. To my horror, a sob escapes my throat. “What am I?”

“Is this one of those bizarre feminist questions?”

“For fucks sake, what am I? Answer me.”

His eyes flash in anger, but he doesn’t flinch. “A woman. A vampire. A neurotic shrew half the time.”

“A vampire,” I repeat, ignoring the last bit.

He looks utterly and completely blank.

“You have no idea. Do you?”

When he doesn’t answer, I open the busted door as wide as it will go and wave an arm toward it. “Goodbye, Ronin.”

If he wasn’t such a misogynistic playboy, I might experience a pang of guilt as I watch him skulk past me, defeated.

Outside he pauses, spinning around to face me. “I rang you,” he says. “Every day for a month after we slept together.”

“I know,” I whisper, staring at my Dolce & Gabbana boots. “I changed my telephone number on day three.”

He emits a short, hollow laugh, and when I look up, the hallway is completely empty. I hear the slam of a door as he exits the building onto the street.

About the Author: Juliet Lyons is a paranormal romance author from the UK. She writes kind-hearted heroes and snarky heroines with sass to spare. Her debut series ‘Bite Nights’ revolves around interspecies dating site V-Date.com. Expect lots of humour and lashings of steam as humans venture forth into the tight-knit London community of centuries old vampires and discover that dating the undead can be a risky business.

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Drop Dead Gorgeous by Juliet Lyons – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Juliet Lyons who is visiting with us today to celebrate the release of Drop Dead Gorgeous, the second book in her Bite Nights series. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post to win a copy of Dating the Undead, the first in the series.

SWIPE RIGHT FOR MR. BITE

Mila Hart’s first experience with the hot new vampire dating site is a complete disaster. Turns out, her date is wanted for murder! But things turn around when she’s rescued by dashing vampire cop Vincent Ferrer. Dangerous and drop dead gorgeous, he’s just the vampire hottie Mila was hoping for.

Haunted by his past, Vincent can’t risk falling in love again, even if Mila charms him more than anyone he’s ever met. But when the killer from Mila’s first date seeks her out, Vincent is the only one who can protect her. Protecting his heart is a different story…

Enjoy an Excerpt

Inside the flat, I kick off my heels and turn the cold tap on full blast, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “Do you have any aspirin?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Vincent shakes his head, face glum. “I’m sorry I listened to your conversation,” he says, picking at the edge of the kitchen island with a finger.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quietly. “Thanks for sorting out O’Geary for me.”

He nods, frowning. “Mila—”

“Look,” I say, interrupting him. “I know what you must think of me.”

His frown deepens, eyes dark. “What do I think of you?”

“That I’m totally flaky and pathetic. What with dead rats in my bed and going on dates with serial killers and getting felt up my first week at work. If you think I don’t know how ridiculous my life is, Vincent, you’re wrong, because I do, and the truth is, I don’t know why I told my work friend you like to be tied up with silky scarves. Maybe I’ve watched too many dodgy French movies. But my point is, I know I’m not like you, with the fancy view and the starch spray in the cupboard and all this.” I circle a finger wildly in the air. “So I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, and I’m sorry you had to show your fangs and lose your chance at a hookup with Leggy Layla from Marketing. I am sorry.”

I suck in a deep breath and take a gulp of my water. I must be drunker than I thought.

When I finally summon the courage to meet his eye, I jolt in surprise. His eyes are dark, tortured. He leans against the counter, hands gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles are whiter than bone.

“That’s the second time you mentioned those girls.” His voice is husky, throaty, as if the words are coming from some dark, forbidden place deep inside him.

“Yeah, well. They irritate me. Add that to my list of faults. I’m jealous of a group of women who wear double the recommended amount of mascara.”

“Jealous,” he repeats.

Jesus. What is up with him? He looks like a four-year-old trying to figure out an algebraic equation. “Yes. Jealous. Not usually. Just tonight. Because you were speaking to them.”

Inside, I’m well aware I’ve more or less just announced I have an enormous crush on him. But on the outside, the half-drunk, cocky Mila is still running the show.

He continues to stand, frozen. I snatch up my glass of water and slip past him into the lounge.

“Mila,” he says loudly.

I turn around at the same time he does.

“I don’t enjoy Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I don’t.” He runs a nervous hand through his dirty-blond hair. “It’s the only show where I can sit and not have to pay attention to the plotline to know what’s happening.”

I sigh. “Fine. I give up. We’ll hire a harpist for our evening entertainment.” I continue stomping toward the bedrooms—as much as it’s possible to stomp in bare feet.

A gust of air lifts the hair from the nape of my neck and, in an instant, Vincent is filling the doorway with his luscious frame. “I can’t pay attention to the plot,” he says, “because I’m too distracted.”

“Why? Because I’m here messing up your apartment and getting in the way? It won’t be forever, and I’ll tidy up before I go—”

Before I can finish the sentence, he cuts the short distance between us in a single bound, placing hands on my hips. The heat from his fingers burns through the material like red-hot flames. My heart thuds beneath my ribs. Without my heels, my head is level with his chest—his perfectly sculpted, chiseled-from-rock chest—rising and falling as if something is fighting to get out. I lift my gaze, and as our eyes lock, he bunches my dress in his fists. The relaxed look he wore when he lied to the marketing girls and threatened Leery is gone, naked anxiety assuming its place.

“Ask me to stop,” he says, his voice breaking.

I gulp. The only sound is my heart pounding against my ribcage. Is this really happening?

“I can’t,” I say at last. “Because I don’t want you to.”

He releases my dress, looping strong arms around my waist, and lifts me onto my tiptoes until our bodies press together, torso to torso. I drop the glass of water onto the rug at our feet, hearing the loud slosh of liquid as it soaks into the carpet. The water is swiftly forgotten as he leans closer, brushing warm lips over my jawline. He tightens his grip, anchoring me to him as a tremor of pleasure rips through my body.

When his mouth finally fastens onto mine, I mold myself into him like clay, my breasts pushed up against the steely ridges of his chest, my hands twisting into his hair like vines around the branches of a tree. I part his lips, and he responds intensely. He tastes like champagne—warm and fruity—and I devour him like a woman who’s been living carb free would a loaf of bread. My tongue slides over his, a low animal groan erupting from my throat.

He cups my face in his warm hands as he begins feverishly whispering my name between kisses. “Mila, oh God, Mila.”

He wants me, I realize in surprise, knowing from the way my name sounds in his mouth—hard and spiky as barbwire—that this is no whim, no spur-of-the-moment fancy. All the times he’s blushed suddenly make sense, those intense stares I mistook as him thinking I’m an idiot.

I stop kissing him, leaning back to gaze into his drowsy, silver-dappled eyes. His face is slack, his mouth half-open, lips moist.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” I murmur, dragging hands down his muscled back. “You haven’t really been enjoying Dr. Quinn at all.”

About the Author:JULIET LYONS is a paranormal romance author from the UK. She holds a degree in Spanish and Latin American studies and works part-time in a local primary school where she spends far too much time discussing Harry Potter. Since joining global storytelling site Wattpad in 2014, her work has received millions of hits online and gained a legion of fans from all over the world. When she is not writing, Juliet enjoys reading and spending time with her family.

Website | Facebook | Wattpad | Twitter | Goodreads

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Dating the Undead by Juliet Lyons – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Juliet Lyons who is celebrating the release of her debut paranormal romance Dating the Undead. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win a copy of the book.

WOMAN SEEKING VAMPIRE:
Likes to keep things casual
Absolutely no poetry
Zero romance required.

Silver Harris is over clingy men—maybe men altogether. But when she shares a toe-curling kiss with a sexy Irish vampire on New Year’s Eve, she wonders if maybe it’s human men she’s fed up with. Silver turns to the popular vampire dating site, V-Date, only to discover that vampire men are just as unimpressive as their mortal counterparts. And her mysterious hottie? He’s nowhere to be found.

Can’t a girl catch a break?

Logan Byrne can’t get that sassy redhead—or that kiss!—out of his head. When his boss assigns him to spy on V-Date, he meets Silver again. Turns out, the police are recruiting humans to snitch on vampires through the dating site. As the snark and sparks fly, feelings between Silver and Logan deepen. But, when old demons resurface—literally—Logan isn’t sure he can shield either of them from the dangers that have been lying in wait for centuries.

About the Author: JULIET LYONS is a paranormal romance author from the UK. She holds a degree in Spanish and Latin American studies and works part-time in a local primary school where she spends far too much time discussing Harry Potter. Since joining global storytelling site Wattpad in 2014, her work has received millions of hits online and gained a legion of fans from all over the world. When she is not writing, Juliet enjoys reading and spending time with her family.

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