Thanos by Ella Frank

Thanos by Ella Frank
Series: Masters Among Monsters #3

Publication Date: January 26th, 2017
Genre: Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

CHARMED FOR LIFE?

Thanos Agapiou has always been a charmer. For over two millennia, the vampire had no problem acquiring whom and what he wanted with a flash of his handsome smile. He took for granted the boyish good looks he presumed he’d possess for the rest of eternity.

How very wrong he was.

A nearly fatal attack distorted his entire existence. With his appearance now matching the title many have bestowed their kind—monster—he hides away from the world and all of those who know him, including his Ancient, Eton.

Until one night when a stranger draws him out from the shadows.

OR CURSED FOR ETERNITY?

Ever since Paris Antoniou was thrust into a world of vampires, his reality has become stranger than the history and the myths he’s studied for the past decade.

When he learns the truth about his origins and the power he wields, his confusion and fear have him running for his life. What he doesn’t expect is to run into the arms of Thanos—a vampire who doesn’t intimidate him as much as he intrigues him.

WHAT HAS THE POWER TO MAKE YOU WANT TO SURVIVE?

As their worlds collide under extraordinary circumstances, an attraction neither can deny takes hold. But will that be enough to save Thanos from his demons, or will he condemn Paris to his fate?

Destinies have been changed. Lines have been crossed. And, with tales of the vampire race coming to an end, who will make the ultimate sacrifice?

After all, in a world run by vampires and gods, only one can be the true Master among the Monsters.

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About the Author

Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”

A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction and lives with her husband in Portland, OR.  You can reach her on the web at www.ellafrank.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ella.frank.author

Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.




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Shafted by Jordan Marie - Release Blitz

She’s barely legal. He’s more than twice her age.

None of it matters.

He’s about to show her why he’s nicknamed SHAFT.

Shafted is NOW LIVE and ONLY $0.99!

Get your copy at the following retailers:  

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2iuGT3k

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**Nook to follow**

Blurb

She’s barely legal. He’s more than twice her age.

None of it matters.

He’s about to show her why he’s nicknamed SHAFT.

Bree

Until Jax, I’ve never even had an interest in boys.

That’s just the thing though. Jax isn’t a boy.

He’s all man.

First, I gave him my innocence.

Second, I gave him my heart.

But when my family finds out about us…

I just hope I don’t get him killed.

Jax

She’s the granddaughter of a rival club’s President.

She’s barely legal and way too innocent for me.

I’m too old. Too hardened by life, but one taste of her and it’s too late.

I’ve claimed her as my own.

And I’ll die before I let anyone take her away from me.

Unfortunately, it might just come to that.

Bree says we’re soul mates.

Fated for each other.

When I’m staring down the barrel of a gun about to lose everything.

It seems like life fate might have given me the shaft.

Chapter One

Shaft

“Fuck man,” I groan, all but falling down in the chair.

“Rough day old man?”  Briar asks, and I flip him off.  Bastard has a right to laugh. He and his old lady, Stephanie conveniently picked today to spend at Cumberland Falls.  Conveniently, because today is the day the rest of the brothers and myself worked like fucking dogs, fixing up the outside of the club for BB and Diego’s birthdays. BB is a nickname for Torch and Katie’s little boy, and Diego is the president, Skull and his old lady Beth’s son. The two women are sisters and somehow managed to have kids on the exact same day just minutes apart. The Pres is going all out to make sure there’s a huge celebration for the boys’ second birthday.

It sure as hell don’t feel like they should be two already. Time flies fast, and damn if my body ain’t living proof of that today. I feel old all the way down to my bones. I’ve been a sworn in member of the Devil’s Blaze for the last two years, getting the nod from the other members during all that shit with Beth, Katie and the fucking Donahues.

It’s what I wanted, what I worked for, not even minding that I was serving as a pledge with men ten or more years younger than me.  Now at forty, I’m probably one of the oldest members. It didn’t used to bother me, but lately I’m feeling like I missed out on something. Especially when men my age, or close to it have all settled down with old ladies, and here I am alone.

It’s not like I haven’t had relationships, I have. It’s just none of them are even slightly memorable. More often than not, I wish to hell I could forget them. I look through the room and it’s mostly quiet. The new prospects are partying with a few of the club girls.  Even that—easy pussy, doesn’t interest me tonight and that is just fucking depressing. The club needs new women or something.  Hell, maybe I need to get off my ass and get out and find a woman, a woman of my own. That just seems like too much fucking effort right now. Especially when I’ve been breaking up cement and shit all day to make way for the new patio that’s being poured tomorrow. My back hurts like a motherfucker.

“I think I’m crashing for the night brother,” I tell Briar, taking the last swig of my beer.

“Damn, you are getting old,” he says with a chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Nothing here seems to be holding my interest tonight. Club needs some new talent.”

“You need to settle down brother. Find you a good woman like my Steph,” he boasts.

“I think all the good ones are probably gone.”

“Nah, they’re still out there. Just hard to find,” Briar says.

I look around the room one last time. Just as I’m about to write the night off as a loss, she walks in.

“Who’s that?”

He looks around the room. “Who?”

“The chick that just walked through the door,” I tell him without taking my eyes off her. She’s fucking beautiful, and I don’t mean that in a normal way. Hell no, this chick could have just walked off the pages of a magazine. She’s got hair that you can’t really call blonde. It’s like multiple colors, blonde on top then slowly shifting to darker locks on the bottom, and every now and then there’s a strand of almost white. It’s cut so it curves toward a perfect face reaching below her shoulders.  She’s got red lips that could make any man beg—including me. She’s wearing a black jacket, not leather, it’s more polished, expensive, though the look is similar.  Under that she has a white shirt that clings to tight, perky breasts that are easily a ‘C’ cup. Perfect size to fill my large hands. Tight blue jean shorts that cling to her curvy ass and show off long fucking legs, that’d I’d give my eye teeth to feel wrapped around me. She’s wearing flip flops and fuck, even her toes are sexy, painted clear with bright white tips. There’s a silver ring around one of her toes and even that looks sexy. She looks around like she’s searching for someone.  Me baby. You’re definitely searching for me.  

Almost as if she can hear me, she looks at me. Those sweet red lips give into a smile, and I need her closer, so I can tell exactly what color those eyes are. I can feel my dick hardening. I reach down under the table to adjust him. I’ll be letting him play tonight, that’s for damn sure. I stare straight at the woman of my dreams. Is it coincidence that her tongue comes out to brush against her top lip, or is she trying to drive me in- fucking –sane?

“Down boy.” Briar puts his hand on my chest as if to hold me back. “That’s not for you.”

“Why the fuck not?” I shove his hand away. “She been claimed by one of the other brothers?” Please say no. Briar laughs, and as much as I hate it, I pull my eyes away from my dream woman and look at him. “What the fuck do you find so funny?”

“The fact that you’re setting yourself up for a whole hell of a lot of trouble.”

“Quit talking in circles, Briar. I got more important shit to do.” Like her.

“Not with her you don’t.”

“You’re starting to piss me off man.”

“That girl is off limits.” His tone is hard and matter of fact.

“Says who?”

His eyes harden. “Her family.”

“Give me a break. Do I look like I give a fuck?” What the fuck has he been moking?

“You might on this one.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s your funeral.”

Standing up, I ignore the son of a bitch. My dick is so hard I could lay fucking bricks. I’ve got a much softer place in mind for him though.

“Something else might talk you out of it though.”

“I doubt it,” I repeat, walking toward my future.   

“She’s jailbait,” he calls out after me.

Motherfucker.  I stop mid-step, and I swear my dick would cry if he could.

Meet Jordan

I'm just a girl standing in front of you and asking you to love her.

heh (I might watch too many Rom Com's)

Stalk Jordan at: Goodreads / Facebook

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Mind Lies by Harlow Stone - Release Blitz

Title: Mind Lies

Author: Harlow Stone

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: July 7

Full length Standalone Contemporary romance novel

When Jerri wakes up from a twenty-two day coma post car accident- her memory is gone.

Well, most of it.

She doesn’t remember the friends she wakes up to, her home or the business she owns. The only thing she remembers is him.

Locklin.

Her pretty and reckless.

The passion between the two in her dreams is far too powerful to be a cruel joke of her amnesia filled mind. Portia - Jerri’s best friend of ten years- has no idea who the man is; leaving the doctors to think thirty two year old Jerri’s lost her fucking marbles a few decades too early.

But Jerri doesn’t give up.

“Sing to me, Jerri girl.”

Determined to find the motorcycle riding Irishman who begs her to sing in her dreams, she does just that.

Sings.

One woman, and one heartbreaking YouTube video gone viral- Jerri soon finds out exactly why Locklin never comes. She finds out why sometimes memories of the past are best left exaLearn more

 ctly where they came from.

The past.

I stand from the uncomfortable chair I’ve been sitting in. I move to fix my hair before I get closer to the bed, but then I remember it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters.

Because if I wasn’t worth enough at my best, surely my messy hair, torn gown, and filthy body covered with dried blood—me at my worst—will change nothing.

“Jer—”

“Don’t speak,” I interrupt, holding up my hand, voice raspy.

I watch his face fall. His weary eyes shut in pain. Not pain due to his injuries. Not pain due to four hours of surgery.

No.

Pain due to heartache.

We’ve come full circle. Only this time the emotional pain doesn’t belong to Portia, who watched her best friend wander lost in her mind.

This time—it’s him.

He knows.

Placing my hands on the bedrail at the foot of the hospital bed, I take in the man in front of me.

The bastard.

His clean-shaven jaw grew with stubble overnight.

Dark hair, not as long and shaggy as I like. Clearly he’s been back to the barber.

I follow the plains of his solid tattooed chest and the wisps of dark hair on his tanned arms, and only when I’m ready, only when I’m brave enough, do I finally meet his piercing blue eyes.

“You lied,” I strongly tell him, my voice deep and full of emotion. I softly raise my hand when I see he wants to speak again, but I know it hurts. I know the tube that was down his throat did some damage.

I continue, ignoring my blurry vision from tears that threaten to fall. “When I woke up in the hospital four months ago, I wanted one thing,” I pause, choking back my sob, “just one thing.”

“Jerri . . .”

I shake my head, eyes closing, tears falling free. I face him with all of it. Screw strong. I let him see it all: the hurt, the agony, and the heart-crushing pain that comes with not knowing.

The anguish that comes with not being wanted.

“You,” I whisper. “I just . . . wanted . . . you.”

Opening my eyes, I watch as the light leaves his. Any hope from waking, any wish he had to be alive, healthy, and happy when he had woken up is shattered.

Just like my heart.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and not know who you are?” I ask him.

The selfish prick remains silent, but I press on. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly dream of a man, to constantly ache for him, only to find out he’s not there? That he may very well be a product of your amnesia-filled mind?”

I don’t wait for him to answer before adding, angrily, “Do you have any idea what’s it’s like to yearn, sing, and beg the love of your life to come back to you? Only to find out he doesn’t want you?”

“I ca—” he rasps incoherently. 

I speak louder.

Push harder.

“It’s death! It hurts so goddamn bad you want to curl up, fall asleep, and never wake up again.” I shake my head, ignoring the determination in his eyes. His hands remain clenched at his side, the restraints having been put on after surgery to ensure he didn’t remove the chest tube when he had woken up.

“I wanted you so badly, I didn’t sleep. Barely ate. I would fall asleep just so I could dream of you. Because no matter how amazing Portia and my friends have been, I only wanted you.”

I laugh at myself mockingly. “But you never came. I hoped, I dreamed, I prayed, and I even fucking sang, clearly making a fool of myself, because I was singing to someone who didn’t want to be found in the first place!”

Fed up, he talks back as much as his battered throat and gunshot-wounded chest will allow him. “You should not have shared our song,” he rasps. “That . . . was . . . ours.”

The convicting tone in his rugged voice does nothing to deter me.

We’ve been here before.

And, as always . . . “I was never enough for you, Locklin. I won’t ever be enough.”

“Not true,” he whispers in agony.

Shaking my head sadly, I tell him, “You’ve left me, over and over again. But while I was lying in that hospital bed, like you are now, you truly and utterly departed. I don’t mean enough for you to console, and I don’t matter enough for you to ever stay.

“I had so little, and I was so desperate I would have given anything for an answer, let alone to have you by my side.” I pause, unable to control the sobs that wrack my body.

“Come here, Lass.”

The whimper leaving me will be the last one. I vow right now that I will not let myself mourn after this.

This is it.

It’s over.

“I’ve never had the option of leaving you, Locklin. I always chose to hold on and never let go.” I nod. “But it’s time. What you’ve done in the past was forgivable. But this,” I wave my hand between the two of us, “this, what you did and how you left me, is not forgivable. There’s no coming back from here. Because for once in my life when I truly needed you the most, you left me behind.”

“No, Lass. Don’t say that.”

I ignore the sign of tears that cloud his beautiful blue eyes. I ignore his outstretched fingers reaching for mine. Instead, I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand and move to his bedside.

He tilts his head to the side, and I give in to the urge, running my fingers through his silky, dark hair. His eyes close briefly, soaking up the affection.

My touch. 

“At one time, you meant everything to me. I would have gone to hell and back just for a fraction of your attention, your love.” Leaning down, I place a kiss on his chapped lips and recognize the feel of him, the smell.

The taste. 

“That time is gone.”

AMAZON * AMAZON UK

AMAZON AU * AMAZON CA

"Reading is not just a hobby for me, it's a huge part of my life. When you lose yourself in the beauty a creative mind has conjured up; or when you get to that place where there is a movie in your mind and you cannot wait to see how it ends- that's where I find my happy place."

Harlow Stone is a thirty something woman from Southern Ontario who writes mature contemporary romance with steam to keep all you randy women interested in turning the pages.

She spends the majority of her days in the book world. When she is not busy writing her own books you can find her reading someone else's, usually with a glass of wine. (Or a bottle, but who's counting?)

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