Cover Reveal: Chasing Wicked by Kathryn James

Today we have the gorgeous cover for Chasing Wicked by Kathryn James! This sexy contemporary romance is releasing April 18th. Check it out and grab your copy on release day!

About the Book

Stone Mitchell was and always will be toxic.

Forbidden.

Poison.

I’d had a taste and it nearly killed me. Now, I knew better than to bite the apple.

He’d betrayed me in the worst imaginable way possible.

Six years later, I found myself riding out a dangerous storm with the cheating bastard. 

Truths are uncovered. Deception unfolds. Passion ignites and chemistry explodes.

Adding to the drama? I hold a secret that’s unforgivable. I’m the one that ruined our second chance.

Yet, it’s Stone that comes for me with a vengeance.

He’s wicked. He’s wicked ruthless. Pure wicked sin.

…and I want another taste.

Exclusive Excerpt

Stone Mitchell—my worst nightmare.

The muscles of his back rippled against his tight-fitting black t-shirt like he’d been molded into it. He had thick brown hair that was made of silk, softer than silk…my hands remembered exactly how soft.

In a complete stupor, I let go of the handle of the suitcase, causing it to crash against the tiled floor. He spun around, tossed a dish towel over his shoulder, and froze mid-spin. Icy topaz eyes met my disgusted glare head on.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he bit out.

“Stone…” My heart screamed for me to bolt, but I didn’t take a single step.

“I asked you what the hell you’re doing here.” He tossed the kitchen towel across the countertop and folded his arms across this chest.

“I-I’m supposed to be here. Why are you here?”

“This is the last place you’re supposed to be.”

This had to be the most jacked-up karma in the world. Nausea rolled into the pit of my stomach and my nails dug into the palms of my hand. The cocky bastard wore the same expression he’d worn all those years ago.

“Dovie sent me.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“Why the hell would my grandmother send you to my house?”

Behind him, foamy liquid spilled over the rim of the stockpot, filling the room with popping sounds as the contents ran onto the burner and sizzled. “Shit!” He whirled around, quickly moving it.

My mind formulated a hundred different scenarios to rationalize what was happening, but one thought screamed louder than the rest: Get the hell out of here. I seized the opportunity, grabbed my bag, and ran like hell. Bolting out of the house, I took the steps off the deck two at a time, my suitcase bouncing all around behind me.

Halfway down, wind whipping my hair against my face, I heard the door slam above then heavy footsteps closing in behind me. Sheets of rain blew underneath the house, stinging my skin. Adrenaline fueled my feet as I reached the sedan’s door handle, seconds away from leaving the biggest mistake of my life behind.

“Why are you here? No way did Gammy send you here,” he called out as he kept walking toward me like a predator.

“I’m here because she offered me this place for the summer. I don’t know… She didn’t send me here knowing you were here.” She couldn’t have. My Dovie would never have done that to me…or to him.

Only steps away, he showed no sign of stopping, so I spun back around to make my great escape. He caged in my body against the car, not touching me, but so close that if I moved at all, I would land against either his arms or chest. He pressed the frame of the door closed.

“Get away from me. I’m leaving, and I just want to forget I ever saw you.”

“Liar. You won’t forget. I don’t think you’ve ever forgotten…” He leaned in closer, stopping when his mouth was against my ear. “You’ve never forgotten how you whispered my name into my ear, over and over again.”

His words repulsed me. I hated him.

“I remember you being the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Turn around.”

“Go to hell.”

“I earned my free ticket to hell a long time ago. Turn around, Avery.”

The way my name rolled off his tongue caused my breath to catch; it always had. I despised the fact that he still possessed the power to make my traitorous body react. He was and always would be toxic. Forbidden. Poison. I’d had a taste, and it had nearly killed me. Now, I knew better than to bite the apple.

He pressed his chest against my back, and old memories trespassed into my mind. No matter how hard I’d tried, I’d never forgotten the last night we’d spent together. Under an audience of a million twinkling stars, we had slept on a blanket on the edge of Cotton Wilson’s private lake. That night had been beautiful. Perfect. Two days later, Stone was long gone, and thanks to social media and gossiping texts, the people in my small community knew why before I did.

“Leave me alone,” I whispered.

“I can’t do that. There’s a bad storm coming with high winds and a lot of rain. I know for a fact that the only two motels are full, and by now the ferry has already closed.”

There had to be somewhere else for me to stay. A shelter. A church. Hell, even in my car. Another large gust of wind sailed through the air, knocking over the trash bin by the driveway and causing a piece of some sort of metal to blow down the street.

He placed his hand on my upper arm in a gentle touch. “Come inside, Avery, before you end up getting hurt.”

About the Author

Kathryn James lives in a southern small town with her husband and a very sweet and spoiled poodle named Macy. Being a hopeless romantic, she loves to read and write about bad-boy sexy alpha males and strong heroines. The beach is one of her favorite places to hangout, relax, and write. She debuted her first novel, Crazy Beautiful Lies and released a short Crazy Beautiful Kiss which was published in A Story of a Kiss anthology. She plans to release it again as a novella by the end of summer.   

For information about Kathryn L. James or to stay updated on upcoming releases, please drop by: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Spotlight: The Trouble with Bachelors by Caitlyn Blue

About the Book

Falling for her sister's first love, how could that possibly go wrong...

Zach Thorne is supposed to be off limits. He’s her sister’s high school boyfriend and his love life is a revolving door of women. He’s also handsome, sexy and the one guy Emma Callahan has never been able to forget.

Now they’ve been thrown together as best man and maid of honor for her sister’s wedding and some serious sparks are flying. Zach is perfect wedding fling material until he starts to take their romance seriously. Now, Emma is left wondering: is he for real or is she about to get her heart broken?

The trouble with bachelors is you never know.

Excerpt

“This was fun,” I murmur as his fingers coast over my cheek.

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ears and traces my jaw. It’s been a year since a man has touched me. And no one has ever caressed me like this. It’s like he’s trying to memorize my features. I’m enthralled. It’s hard to know what to do next, so I clutch my hands in my lap and stare at him. His eyes lock on my lips and I realize I’ve seized the lower one between my teeth.

His breath hisses out on a soft sigh. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”

“No.” It’s not the default word anyone uses when describing me.

“You are.”

How many women has he used this line on? Hundreds surely. He’s a player. A guy you sleep with not someone you date.

At the moment I’m standing at the line that separates the woman I am and the woman guys like Zach sleep with a few times and never call again. I can listen to my body and have several amazing orgasms to relive over and over, or I can listen to my heart, stay true to who I am and keep looking for a guy who can make me happy long term.

His fingers curve around the back of my neck. As he draws me forward, I ask, “Are you going to kiss me again?”

“I’d very much like to.”

This time his kiss is more direct. Firm and determined, he claims my lips and as his tongue darts forward, I open for him. He tastes like the striped peppermint candy we snagged on our way out of the restaurant.

The kiss quickly goes nova. Heat explodes in my midsection and lances downward as Zach’s hand curves over my knee. I clutch his shoulder, trembling with longing. Phrases spill through my mind. Naughty things I’d want to say to him. Images of taking him into my mouth again and making him cry out my name as he comes. I’ve forgotten that I’m not the type who has sex in cars. Right now, all I’m thinking is: yes, please, let’s do this.

Our tongues are dueling, my legs are parting and Zach’s hand is riding up my inner thigh when the phone in my lap buzzes with an incoming text. It’s close enough to my happy place that the vibration only adds to my arousal. I moan. Zach drags his lips from mine.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear it.”

As his other hand dips inside my coat, fingers gliding over my breast, it’s easy to moan again. Damn, he’s good at this. Trembling with need, I bite my lip as the urge to whimper builds. I shift my hips as my clit perks up and starts crying for attention. If he doesn’t touch me there I’ll go out of my mind.

A second text follows the first or maybe it’s just that reminder that I haven’t looked at the first one. Either way, it feels great. So does Zach’s mouth on my neck. And is that his teeth? I open my thighs, silently begging him to go higher. He’s so close. I’m so close.

Buzz.

I’m panting. He’s sucking on my earlobe. Shit. That’s amazing. His thumb grazes my nipple.

Buzz.

Buzz.

The hand beneath my skirt reaches the elastic on my panties and I shift my hips, pushing into his fingers. Can he feel how wet I am? A little higher, please.

Buzz.

Buzz.

The vibration is so constant it’s like a sex toy and I’m so close to getting off. Just a little bit more. His finger brushes over the soaked crotch my panties. The lightest of touch and my body is electrified.

“Fuck,” he mutters, tracing over my hot, aching core a second time. “These are soaked.”

A garbled noise emerges from my throat.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

And then Zach’s fingers are retreating and I groan in protest. “Um, do you need to get that?”

Get what?

Buzz.

Buzz.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I exclaim as Zach removes his lovely, clever hands from beneath my clothes.

He flops back against his seat with a hearty curse. Eyes closed, breathing hard, he shields his face as his shoulders move. Damn the man. He’s laughing.

Snarling, I pick up the phone and see at least a dozen texts from my cousins. Looking over at the house, I spy all three of them lined up at the living room windows. Well, what did I expect? I’m making out with Zach in front of our house. I might as well have set up a neon sign on the front lawn that says orgasms happening here. Almost happening…so close. A growl vibrates my chest.

“Your cousins?”

“Yes.”

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About the Author

Caitlyn Blue is a voracious reader with an overactive imagination and a chocolate addict. She loves fancy cocktails and tasty edibles, is a sucker for adventure movies and any music with a beat. When not writing, Caitlyn loves to connect with her readers for whom she's extremely grateful. Join her VIP list to stay up to date on giveaways and exclusive offers.  

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Excerpt: A Star to Steer Her By by Beth Anne Miller

Release date: March 20, 2017
Entangled Publishing, Embrace

I’m scarred. Broken. I’ll never be the same.

But I will take this journey.

Ever since my last dive ended in bloodshed, I’ve been terrified to go back into the water. But the opportunity to spend a semester at sea is too good to pass up. I need to get my life back.

I never expected to love it this much. And I never expected Tristan MacDougall.

Rugged, strong, and with demons of his own, Tristan helps me find the courage I thought I had lost and heals me with every stolen moment we share. But the rules of the ship mean we can't be together.  

When a dive excursion goes terribly wrong, our only hope for survival is each other.  

Excerpt

He held my hand as we glided slowly around the reef. The euphoria I felt at actually getting under the water faded as I squinted into the distant blue haze, on constant lookout for…anything that might be lurking out there. It was utterly silent, except for the Darth Vader-like sound of our breathing. That was one of the things I’d always loved best about scuba diving, the silence of it. For a short time, I could leave behind the noise of the world above and get lost in the alien world beneath the sea. I’d missed it so much.

My fear began to slip away. The reef was a huge mass of life and motion. Tiny yellow fish nibbled on purple sponges, vividly colored parrotfish pecked at coral with their sharp beaks, blue-and-yellow angelfish swam lazily between sea fans. None of them seemed disturbed by our presence. They just went about their business.

I’d almost forgotten Tristan was there until he tapped my arm and pointed to a big hole in the coral, where a slimy green head emerged on a sinuous neck. It was a moray eel. It stared at us, its mouth opening and closing to reveal glimpses of curved, needle-thin teeth. Novice divers tended to be afraid of them because their teeth looked wicked sharp. But I’d been around them enough to know that they opened and closed their mouths to breathe, not to be aggressive (usually), and I watched it for a moment, unafraid.

We continued exploring, my eyes remembering how to see beyond the camouflage to find the animal. A crusty “rock” sitting on the bottom was a scorpionfish. A mound of sand turned out to be a flounder. I still searched the blue waters around us, but less frequently than before. I even let go of Tristan’s hand.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of silver. My heart started to pound. Take it easy, it’s probably a barracuda.

No, it wasn’t. Barracuda usually just hovered motionless in the water, seemingly menacing with their protruding teeth, but generally harmless to humans. This was moving quickly. And it was big. Where’d it go? I spun around.

There it was again, lurking just at the edge of my vision. Oh God, not again! Hiss-whoosh, hiss-whoosh. My breath came faster and faster.

I needed to get out of there.

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About the Author

Beth Anne Miller’s first book, written in elementary school, was bound in pink fabric and was about—what else?—a girl and her horse. She soon began cheating on horses with the sea, becoming an open water scuba diver at age 14. That love of the sea led her to a college semester aboard a schooner. She returned with fond memories of the exhilaration of being on a ship under full sail, less fond memories of hurling over the leeward rail on a daily basis, and a sailing bug she couldn’t quite shake.

In addition to horses and the sea, she has a fascination for all things Scottish (including, but not limited to, men in kilts), which she explored with her first novel, INTO THE SCOTTISH MIST (The Wild Rose Press, 2011), and carried into her new novel, A STAR TO STEER HER BY (Entangled Embrace, March 2017). A native New Yorker, Beth Anne works in the publishing industry and is always looking ahead to her next voyage, whether a short one on a dive boat or whale watch, or, with luck, a longer one on a tall ship.

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Spotlight: Birthright by Jessica Ruddick

Genre: YA Supernatural
Release Date: March 20th 2017

Summary

How do you live with yourself when you decide who dies?

Ava Parks would have killed for an iPod for her sixteenth birthday. Anything would have been better than coming into her birthright of being a seeker for the Grim Reaper, an arrangement made by her fallen angel ancestor in exchange for his re-admittance to heaven. And she isn’t just any seeker—she finds souls that have the potential for becoming angels and sentences them to death. A year and two souls into her role as a seeker with her conscience overflowing with guilt, Ava comes up with a plan to thwart the system. When it goes awry, she is forced to submit the name of a classmate, Cole Fowler, an ornery, rough around the edges guy who always seems to come to her rescue, whether she likes it or not. Her feelings for Cole prompt her to intervene, and she saves him from death, upsetting the Grim Reaper’s agenda. 

While Ava schemes to find a way to save Cole, she learns he has some secrets of his own. She lets him believe he is protecting her, and not the other way around, until a final showdown with the Grim Reaper forces Ava to make choices Cole may never forgive

Excerpt

As soon as I opened the front door, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and a tingle ran down my spine. The scent of cinnamon filled my nostrils. It was like having those little candy Red Hots shoved up my nose. Dread in the form of a knot settled in the base of my stomach.

Xavier.

Xavier was…I wasn’t sure what he was. Was he the descendant of a fallen angel like me? Was he an angel himself? Or was he something else, something more sinister?

He certainly looked it. He certainly acted it. He exuded evil.

He was lounging on our couch, his arms spread out over the back of it and his right ankle propped on his left knee. His black hair was slicked back, and he’d grown a goatee since the last time I’d seen him. As usual, he was dressed in a black suit with a red tie, what I mentally referred to as his “villain suit.”

I couldn’t believe he was the same man who used to read me bedtime stories and tuck me in when my mom had to work nights.

A smile stretched across his face and his black beady eyes watched me enter the room. The only thing that could possibly make him more snakelike was if a thin red forked tongue flitted out of his mouth.

I’d be less surprised than if a hippo flounced around my living room in a pink tutu in true Fantasia style.

My mom sat stiffly on a chair across from him. It was our home, but Xavier was in control here. Her eyes met mine, and she shrugged her shoulders slightly. She had no idea why he was here either. We hadn’t expected him for at least a couple more months.

“Welcome home, Ava,” Xavier said. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stand.”

He chuckled. “Suit yourself.”

Xavier took a moment to inspect his cuticles, as if he weren’t in the middle of our living room, as if we weren’t waiting for him to say whatever it was he came to say so he would leave again. I’d say he was oblivious to the effect he had on us, but that wouldn’t be true. He knew, and he relished it.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that any way to treat a guest in your home?” He looked at my mother. “You should really teach her better manners.”

I laughed bitterly. “Calling yourself a guest implies that you’re wanted here.”

“Ava,” my mom said, her tone sharp.

Xavier just threw his head back and laughed. “No, Mary, let the little vixen spew her venom. I like it. It’s honest. Honesty is underrated in society today, don’t you agree?”

I glared at him.

“I have your next assignment.”

My glare faltered as I fought to keep the air moving in and out of my lungs. An assignment from Xavier meant the blood of an innocent would be on my hands again.

When I said I worked for the Grim Reaper, that was oversimplifying it a bit. There’s actually more than one. Think about it—with all the people who die every day in the world, how could there possibly be just one?

The particular Grim Reaper I worked for was special, though. He collected souls that were worthy of being angels. It was my job as a seeker to find those souls.

How’s that for an after school job?

“Forgive me, Xavier, but isn’t it a little soon?” my mom said quietly. “She hasn’t even had a chance to get settled in her new school.”

He glanced at her before returning his attention to me. “She can handle it. Besides, it’s time.”

“But her last assignment was just last month!” my mom protested. “Are you sure—”

“I’m very sure.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. The knot of dread in my stomach exploded, seeping into the rest of my body. I breathed deeply, desperately trying to keep control. The last thing I wanted was to lose it in front of Xavier.

“How long do I have?”

“Two weeks.”

Two weeks. I had two weeks to put a plan into motion that would change lives irrevocably.

My classmates’ faces popped into my mind. I hadn’t bothered getting to know anyone or even learning names. I told myself it was easier that way, easier being a relative term.

But did any of them have a white aura? When I was at school, I always blocked them out. Otherwise, the barrage of auras became a colorful assault on my senses. School was difficult enough as it was. I didn’t need the added distraction. Moving around so much had left gaps in my education, so even though I was pretty smart, I perpetually struggled to maintain decent grades. Why I even bothered anymore was a mystery, though. I would probably end up a waitress just like my mother. It was hard to develop a career or even think about college with our transient lifestyle.

I squared my shoulders and looked Xavier in the eye, faking the bravado I lacked. “I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.”

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About the Author

Jessica lives in Virginia with her college-sweetheart husband, two rambunctious sons, and two rowdy but lovable rescue dogs. Since her house is overflowing with testosterone, it’s a good thing she has a healthy appreciation for Marvel movies, Nerf guns, and football.

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Spotlight: Beauty of the Beast by Rachel L. Demeter

About the Book

Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story—retold with a dark and realistic twist.

A BEAST LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS PAST

Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago.

A BEAUTY IN PURSUIT OF A BETTER FUTURE

Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle—unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more…

Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice.

Beauty of the Beast is the first standalone installment in a series of classic fairy tales reimagined with a dark and realistic twist.

Disclaimer: This is an edgy retelling of the classic fairy tale. Due to strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.

Excerpt

~ The East Tower ~

Arms sprang out from the darkness. They spun her full circle and slammed her body against the king’s portrait. Isabelle gasped, more in shock than from pain, as she stared into Adam’s deformed face. The lantern flickered behind his massive form, casting his cloaked body in silhouette. But she saw enough to know he was far from pleased. Rage and frustration radiated from his body like a palpable force.

“I warned you to stay out of here,” he said, his voice dangerously cold and deep. Those rugged vocals vibrated against her body and seeped into her marrow. “What part of forbidden didn’t you comprehend?” His voice lashed out from the darkness like a hurtled knife, and the word “forbidden” seemed to whisper another meaning altogether. Isabelle tried to answer but failed to find her voice. Indeed, her vocal cords had turned to solid ice, as numb and cold as the blood rushing through her veins. She couldn’t breathe; she felt like she was suffocating.

“My mother gave me that musical box on my fourth birthday,” he said, the sensual lull of his voice causing the fine hairs on her nape to stand erect. “And now your recklessness has destroyed it. Have you nothing to say?”

“I—I’m sorry.” He offered no reply; only the ragged sound of his breathing and the hammering blizzard broke the silence. “Please—I didn’t mean any harm.”

She struggled under the weight of Adam’s colossal body and battled to free herself. He merely gave a low chuckle and pressed her firmly against the portrait. He looked otherworldly at that moment, like an angel of death seeking vengeance. Both beautiful and monstrous, his cool, sapphire eyes overflowed with warring emotions. In spite of his harsh and ruthless exterior, she detected a quaver in his voice and saw that his large, cloaked shoulders trembled. The darkness in his soul cast a shadow that embraced her; as she peered up at him, she knew he was drowning in the turbulent waters of a past time.

“What a disappointment,” he went on, his voice growing deeper still, mocking her words from so many days ago, “You’re like any other woman.”

“I—I’m sorry. Please, Adam. I—” Her gaze shot past his body and over the wreckage of a past life. She thought of her private chamber again—of the stale perfumes and outdated garments.

Her flight or fight instinct seized hold of her. She attempted to scramble free, but he merely grabbed her shoulder and whirled her back against the portrait. Gloves wrapped his hands; his long, silk-clad fingers grasped her shoulder and kept her firmly in place.

He stood intimately close.

Far too close.

As close as Raphael had been that night.

“Going somewhere, ma belle? After you’ve worked so hard to find my East Tower?”

Hands like two steel bands held her wrists in place. Hot breaths, which faintly smelled of wine, seared her cheeks and assaulted her senses. Her breasts flattened against the pressure of his strong chest, and she felt that same chest swell and deflate in perfect sync with her own. One large hand slipped down her elbow and glided across her extended arm. The lush material of his gloves drew a shudder from her heaving chest. His breathing grew more ragged, shallower, and the erratic beat of his heart banged against her own.

Anger and desire warred on his face, twisting his features into a mess of both monster and man. “Find anything of interest, aside from my musical box? Come, come. You went through such great trouble to get here,” he asked, his voice now threaded with both anger and something else.

Yes, Isabelle recognized that something else. It was the same note that had entered Raphael’s voice that night…

She attempted to duck under his arm, but he moved swiftly, capturing her in the crook of his elbow. Reeling her toward him, he emitted a low, haunting chuckle that swelled the eastern tower to its rafters. She was back where she’d started—pinned against the portrait, Adam’s body serving as a flesh-and-blood blockade.

Hunger radiated from him, enfolding her in a current of sizzling power. His silk-clad hand grazed the curve of her breast as it moved down her body in a painfully slow caress. Even more alarming was her reaction to him. Her treacherous body responded with a crush of hot and cold pulsating waves. Then he whispered a taunt in her ear, and his liquid baritone slid down her backbone like honey; it swirled inside her, finding its home in her most intimate area.

He leaned closer still. His face’s uneven skin brushed against her neck, the black waves of his hair tickled her chin... His thick arousal expanded against her, reminding her of what he was capable of—and of her sheer vulnerability.

His lips teased the base of her throat. Cursing her traitorous body, Isabelle gasped at the gentle scraping of his teeth. His tongue and lips tormented her throbbing pulse—just barely, stirring her skin in a mere ghost of a touch.

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About the Author

Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love.

Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul.

Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness.

Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words.

Don’t be a stranger! Rachel loves to connect and interact with her readers:

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Spotlight: Miracle Man by William Leibowitz

About the Book

The victim of an unspeakable crime, an infant rises to become a new type of superhero.  Unlike any that have come before him, he is not a fanciful creation of animators, he is real.  

So begins the saga of Robert James Austin, the greatest genius in human history.  But where did his extraordinary intelligence come from?

As agents of corporate greed vie with rabid anti-Western radicals to destroy him, an obsessive government leader launches a bizarre covert mission to exploit his intellect.  Yet Austin’s greatest fear is not of this world.

Aided by two exceptional women, one of whom will become his unlikely lover, Austin struggles against abandonment and betrayal.  But the forces that oppose him are more powerful than even he can understand. 

Miracle Man was named by Amazon as one of the Top 100 Novels of 2015, an Amazon Top 10 thriller, an Amazon bestseller and an Amazon NY Times bestseller.  

Book Excerpt

A tall figure wearing a black-hooded slicker walked quickly through the night carrying a large garbage bag. His pale face was wet with rain. He had picked a deserted part of town. Old warehouse buildings were being gutted so they could be converted into apartments for non-existent buyers. There were no stores, no restaurants and no people.

“Who’d wanna live in this shit place?” he muttered to himself. Even the nice neighborhoods of this dismal city had more “For Sale” signs than you could count.

He was disgusted with himself and disgusted with her, but they were too young to be burdened. Life was already hard enough. He shook his head incredulously. She had been so damn sexy, funny, full of life. Why the hell couldn’t she leave well enough alone? She should have had some control.

He wanted to scream-out down the ugly street, “It’s her fucking fault that I’m in the rain in this crap neighborhood trying to evade the police.”

But he knew he hadn’t tried to slow her down either. He kept giving her the drugs and she kept getting kinkier and kinkier and more dependent on him and that’s how he liked it. She was adventurous and creative beyond her years. Freaky and bizarre. He had been enthralled, amazed. The higher she got, the wilder she was. Nothing was out of bounds. Everything was in the game.

And so, they went farther and farther out there. Together. With the help of the chemicals. They were co-conspirators, co-sponsors of their mutual dissipation. How far they had traveled without ever leaving their cruddy little city. They were so far ahead of all the other kids.

He squinted, and his mind reeled. He tried to remember in what month of their senior year in high school the drugs became more important to her than he was. And in what month did her face start looking so tired, her complexion prefacing the ravages to follow, her breath becoming foul as her teeth and gums deteriorated. And in what month did her need for the drugs outstrip his and her cash resources.

He stopped walking and raised his hooded head to the sky so that the rain would pelt him full-on in the face. He was hoping that somehow this would make him feel absolved. It didn’t. He shuddered as he clutched the shiny black bag, the increasingly cold wet wind blowing hard against him. He didn’t even want to try to figure out how many guys she had sex with for the drugs.

The puddle-ridden deserted street had three large dumpsters on it. One was almost empty. It seemed huge and metallic and didn’t appeal to him. The second was two-thirds full. He peered into it, but was repulsed by the odor, and he was pretty sure he saw the quick moving figures of rodents foraging in the mess. The third was piled above the brim with construction debris.

Holding the plastic bag, he climbed up on the rusty lip of the third dumpster. Stretching forward, he placed the bag on top of some large garbage bags which were just a few feet inside of the dumpster’s rim. As he climbed down, his body looked bent and crooked and his face was ashen. Tears streamed down his cheeks and bounced off his hands. He barely could annunciate, “Please forgive me,” as he shuffled away, head bowed and snot dripping from his nose.

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About the Author

has been practicing entertainment/media law in New York City for a number of years.  He has represented numerous renowned creative people and many leading intellectual property companies.  William has a Bachelor of Science degree from New York University (magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa) and a law degree from Columbia University.  He lives in the village of Quogue, New York with his wife, Alexandria, and dog, George.

William wrote Miracle Man because of its humanistic and spiritual messages and because he feels that in our current times--when meritless celebrity has eclipsed accomplishment and the only heroes are those based on comic books, the world needs a real hero--and that, of course, is Robert James Austin, the protagonist in Miracle Man.

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Giveaway

William R. Leibowitz is giving away one autographed copy of MIRACLE MAN, 5 e-copies and 4 pens!

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  • This giveaway ends midnight May 31.

Good luck everyone!