D.I.T., book three
by Victoria Danann
by Victoria Danann
Title - Savage: The Awakening of Lizzie Danton
Author - L.A. Fiore
Genre - Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense
Release Date - November 17, 2017
Cover Designer: Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author
Photographer: Scott Hoover
They call him a monster.
Pale blue eyes as cold as ice that see right through you.
He’s hard.
He’s damaged.
He’s dangerous.
He lives in a castle fit for a fairy tale, but he’s no prince.
He’s savage.
He’s brutal.
He’s a killer.
By an act of fate, our worlds collide.
They call him a monster, but he is my salvation.
Text copyright © 2017, L.A. Fiore
All rights reserved
My hands fisted in the pockets of my trousers as I watched Lizzie Danton walking down the drive. Fuck. Damn that fucking conscience. I didn’t need it, didn’t fucking want it. I wanted to turn my back, but I could hear Brianna and Fenella, even Finnegan, in my head. “Fucking hell.”
Fenella was just entering the library as I was leaving it. She was giving me her stink eye, that frosty look that condemned without her needing to speak a word. What the hell did she want? I let the woman sleep here, fed her, and clothed her. It was the clothes, or lack of them, that stirred something left well enough alone. “Our guest is walking home.”
“I saw.”
“I think she’s coming down with a cold.”
“Fucking walking in the rain will do that.”
“Not her fault the car broke down.” She narrowed her eyes at me before she added, “And it’s not her fault she’s kin to Norah Calhoun. Remember, she’s kin to Brianna too.”
I didn’t pay my staff to lecture me. They weren’t staff; they were family, but I ignored that. I was halfway down the hall when Fenella called after me, “She wants to paint your home.”
That stopped me, my head swiveling to her. “She said that?”
“Yes. Said you could Google her to see her portfolio and that she would gift you the painting.”
I didn’t need to Google her. I was familiar with her work. But after my interrogation last night, why the hell would she offer that? “Why?”
“Because the sight of the castle from the lane took her breath away, her words.”
It was the view from the lane that sold me on this place; more specifically the feeling of peace it evoked, a foreign, but not unpleasant feeling. Fucking hell.
There were a few broken branches blocking the drive. By the time I got the Range Rover out of the garage, it had been about an hour since Miss Danton left. Halfway back to the village, I saw the body on the boulder. My chest grew tight thinking harm had come to her; the unwanted sensation annoyed the hell out of me. Pulling over, I climbed out to hear Lizzie Danton talking to herself. She had a bizarre habit of talking to things, like those cows and Brianna’s ghost. Her words that day had lingered because despite the shit she’d seen, she still had it in her to paint fucking sprites…to try for happy. I couldn’t decide if she was the most well adjusted person of my acquaintance or the craziest. I wondered if she’d spent any time in a mental facility.
I couldn’t make out what she was saying, didn’t really care. My goal was to get her ass back to the cottage. That would ease the nagging from my fucking conscience. I stepped closer, to peer down at her, her eyes went wide then she screamed. She jumped off the boulder like it was on fire.
“What the hell! Didn’t you ever learn not to sneak up on someone resting on a rock?”
I ignored that ridiculous question. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. “You don’t look so good.”
“Nice. Scare the shit out of me and then insult me. Seriously, charm school was completely lost on you.”
She had the oddest way of communicating. More surprising was the urge to grin at her nonsense. “I’ll give you a ride to the cottage.”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want you thinking I was after your car, or your house and heaven forbid you. I’ll walk.” She started walking away but stopped and turned back. “And why assume I was like my mother? You knew Aunt Brianna, but you interrogated me like I was after something. Never mind. I don’t care what you think.”
She did care. I saw how deeply it cut her to be compared to her mother. Another unfamiliar sensation curled in my gut. Guilt. I shook it off. “You can barely stand.”
Temper burned behind her eyes, but she acquiesced. “Fine.”
She didn’t wait for me and walked to the car in much the way a child in temper might do. She yanked open the door and dropped into the seat. I climbed in, felt her eyes on me, but when I looked over her focus was out the window.
“Why are the villagers freaked out by you?” She turned in her seat to face me. “They think you’re a werewolf.”
I’d heard that rumor. Was actually rather fond of that one. “Maybe I am.”
I glanced over at her and she was contemplating the real possibility that I was a werewolf. Damn, if I didn’t want to grin.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll be sure to stay inside on the full moon.”
L.A. Fiore is the author of several books including Beautifully Damaged, Collecting the Pieces and His Light in the Dark. Her favorite movie is Star Wars, a love her son shares. They hope to build their own Millennium Falcon one day. She would like to meet the Winchester Boys to thank them for enlightening her on the versatility of salt as not just a food enhancer, but as protection from supernatural threats. And she thinks it would be interesting to be a zombie, to get an idea of what life is like as a brain-addicted fiend so she can be their voice to tell their side of the story. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and kids, their two spoiled cats and their awesome dog.
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Title: A Tempest of Discovery
Series: Midnight Dynasty #1
Author: Sarah M. Cradit
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: January 22, 2018
Charlotte Fontenot was in way over her head, and not for the reasons she expected.
Lawrence led her up the stairs, winding them into a series of asymmetrical hallways that left Charlotte dizzy and disoriented. The homes in New Orleans were structured more evenly, with central halls and parlors leading to rooms on each side. The upstairs of this mansion was more like a maze, one she was quite positive once Lawrence left her alone she’d find herself lost within.
She hadn’t expected the moment of engagement to lead so quickly to personal attention. As the man of the night, Lawrence Henry had as many masters as there were guests, and his polite, but quick attention to each of them was what she expected for herself as well. Julian would give her grief for the calculated fall, but she feared a customary introduction wouldn’t be enough to make her stand out. She’d never know if it was the fall, the dress, or her, but she had Lawrence in her attention, a no doubt temporary state of affairs. She needed to make the most of what time she had.
Lawrence stopped before a long room with doors on each end. The ornate gilded handles were as lengthy as her torso, and nearly as thick. With a soft grunt, he pulled one of them open, dropping her arm briefly to make use of both hands, and gestured for her to enter first.
Charlotte’s breath caught as she stepped into the room. Mirrors, hundreds, lined the walls, obscuring an actual appraisal of the precise size of the space. Movable racks held dazzling clothing of all kinds, from smoking jackets to gowns. Rotating shelves shaped like long cylinders showcased an expansive collection of shoes.
“You weren’t kidding,” she breathed. She had never been especially snared by expensive things, but Charlotte was mesmerized. “Next time a guy tells me he wants to take me to his dressing room, I’ll believe him.”
“My authentic pickup lines are far more creative.” He stood at a distance, watching her. When she turned to look at him, his smile broadened. “I said I’d leave you alone.”
Charlotte pivoted away, heels clicking on the hard floors. She feigned a lack of interest with a dismissive wave over her shoulder. “You can stay, it’s fine. Unless you need to get back?”
“I might need medical attention. Your dress is blinding in these mirrors,” Lawrence teased. He threw his arms dramatically across his eyes when she turned to shoot him a look.
I can take it off, she nearly said, but that was far more forward than she wanted to be this early. In fact, she didn’t want to be forward at all. She only wanted to lower his defenses.
From the blush in Lawrence’s cheeks, she guessed he was thinking the same. He had the decency to move away and filter through a collection of men’s jackets.
Charlotte continued her tour of the shoes. Her size, seven, was on the other end of the room, but he didn’t know she knew that, so she took her time. She hadn’t expected time alone with Lawrence, so she wasn’t prepared with the right words to draw out his truths.
She felt his eyes on her again, and she moved with even more deliberateness, knowing full well how the dress sat on her hips, how it contoured and highlighted her best assets. Was she trying to seduce him? She didn’t think so. Certainly, she had no intention of seeing any such game through to conclusion, and she wasn’t looking to confuse the poor man. His measure was what she wanted. There were few things more telling about a man than how he handled himself in private with a beautiful woman.
“It’s so good of your sister to be here with you, supporting your good work,” Charlotte ventured. She turned over a size ten in her hands, pretended to regard it with more than passing curiosity.
“Gabrielle?” Lawrence said the name without the warmth of familiarity. “Yeah, she’s very supportive.”
“I have to confess, when we first arrived, I mistook her for your girlfriend.”
A darkness passed over Lawrence’s soft features. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” He stepped away from the jacket rack. “Where are you from, Miss Fontenot?”
“New Orleans.” She saw no reason to lie, as Julian had. If they did fold the Henrys into their world, as Colleen undoubtedly hoped they would, a lie was no way to start a relationship.
Lawrence smiled, nodded. “So that’s where I know the Fontenot name. My father is a business acquaintance of Luther Fontenot. Any relation?”
“Luther is my uncle,” Charlotte replied. “My father’s brother.”
“Small world. I escape New Orleans and it follows me to Paris anyway.”
Charlotte met his eyes in a hundred reflections. “And what do you have to escape, Lawrence Henry?”
Lawrence tried to focus on one iteration of her and laughed at his failure, at the confusing nature of the endless arrangement of mirrors. “If you can believe it, it’s Paris I’d prefer to escape.”
“La Ville Lumière? La Ville de L’amour?”
“Your French is quite good, Miss Fontenot.”
“My mother is French. And you’re deflecting.”
Lawrence stopped his casual perusing of clothes he obviously had no interest in. “Deflecting?”
Charlotte tried to hide her expression, as she remembered the tense conversation between Lawrence and his sister the night before, but this was impossible in a room of reflections. She forced a smile. “Why would anyone want to flee a city like Paris?”
Lawrence tossed his eyes to the side with a faint smile. “Right. City of Light. City of Love. All that?”
“I said it better.”
He looked to his feet and his grin widened. “Yes, you did.”
“So?”
“Would you believe I’m homesick?”
“If you were anywhere but Paris. And home was anywhere but New Orleans.”
“Fair play,” Lawrence conceded. He pulled his jacket out to his sides with his pocketed hands and shuffled in place. “I have business back home I feel like I’m neglecting, you could say.”
“What sort of business?”
Lawrence clucked his tongue. “What a personal question, Miss Fontenot. Next you’ll be curious about my undergarment preferences.”
Charlotte set down a shoe and squinted one eye. “Oh, Mr. Henry, I would definitely peg you for a brief man.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think I want to know how you came to that conclusion.”
“That’s good, because I hadn’t planned to divulge my secrets.”
Sarah is the USA Today bestselling author of the Paranormal Southern Gothic series, The House of Crimson & Clover, born of her combined passion for New Orleans, and the mysterious complexity of human nature. Her work has been described as rich, emotive, and highly dimensional.
An unabashed geek, Sarah enjoys studying obscure subjects like the Plantagenet and Ptolemaic dynasties, and settling debates on provocative Tolkien topics such as why the Great Eagles are not Gandalf's personal taxi service. Passionate about travel, Sarah has visited over twenty countries collecting sparks of inspiration (though New Orleans is where her heart rests). She's a self-professed expert at crafting original songs to sing to her very patient pets, and a seasoned professional at finding ways to humiliate herself (bonus points if it happens in public). When at home in Oregon, her husband and best friend, James, is very kind about indulging her love of fast German cars and expensive lattes.
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Title: Beneath the Lighthouse
Author: Julieanne Lynch
Genre: YA Horror
Release Date: June 26, 2018
Cover Design: Sam Shearon
Sixteen-year-old Jamie McGuiness’s sister is found dead. Sinking into a deep depression, he frequents the lighthouse where her body was discovered, unaware of the dark forces surrounding him.
When an angry spirit latches onto Jamie, he’s led down a dark and twisted path, one that uncovers old family secrets that destroy everything Jamie ever believed.
Caught between the world of the living and the vengeful dead, Jamie fights the pull of the other side. It’s up to Jamie to settle old scores, or no one will rest in peace—but, first, he has to survive.
Julieanne Lynch is an author of YA and Adult genre urban fantasy, crime and contemporary romance books. Julieanne was born in Northern Ireland, but spent much of her early life in London, United Kingdom, until her family relocated back to their roots.
Julieanne lives in Northern Ireland, with her husband and five children, where she is a full-time author. She studied English Literature and Creative Writing at The Open University and considered journalism as a career path. Julieanne has several projects optioned for film.
Julieanne is both traditionally and independently published.
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