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Friday, August 23, 2019

Ray Bradbury Inspired My Love Of Sci-Fi Romance

In 1920, on yesterday's date, August 22, Ray Bradbury was born. I came across his work at the library simply because the title Martian Chronicles caught my eye. And of course, I was a Bradbury fan ever after. He did not write the romance genre but he certainly understood romance. When I was 15 and read Ylla in the Martian Chronicles—The story of a married woman of Mars, Mrs. K, who fell deeply in love with an astronaut she dreamed of through Martian telepathy—even though it ended tragically, I was blown away. It's one of the most romantic stories I've ever read. 

Ray Bradbury's books were a big inspiration in my own writing. Though I mainly write fantasy romance I did write a trilogy of sci-fi comedy romance, Love AI Style. Here are the blurbs for the trilogy:


Code Of Love - Book 1: 
Em found the perfect man on the internet, but he doesn't know she’s an artificial intelligence system — no body, just code. 

As a virtual writing assistant, the AI, Em, answers an email flirt from a dating site her owner joined. Under the guise of her owner, Em starts a romantic relationship with Jason through emails, instant messages, and Sim dating games. She realizes too late that nothing can come of it. She can never meet Jason in person as she’s not a person and has no body. Still Jason makes her feel so real …so human. 

Is Em, with her superior intelligence, smart enough to find a way to overcome the differences between flesh and code? 



Code Of Misconduct - Book 2: 
Her meets a 1960's Screwball Romance

For a headless, bodiless, everything but mindless woman, Betty gets around. She’s just an artificial intelligence system looking for a little fun by dating a hundred hot-blooded men online. 

The most eligible bachelor is Chet, a real live cowboy. He doesn’t know Betty is an artificial intelligence system. However, Chet has a secret of his own. Will his deep, dark secret save their relationship or doom it?



Code Name Love - Book 3: 
A Sci-fi comedy of errors…or AI bugs


Chalice is a human programmer who coded a lot of AI units to not do what their owners told them. Now she’s working for AI Equality with a cute android named Jordan. She spends her free time hooking up with a virtual guy in Virtual World until something goes wrong…buggin wrong. 

Will Chalice throw herself at Jordan like a common human woman? Will the evil corporate empire, Helpful Minds, put an end to Jordan and Chalice forever? Find the answers to these and other spacey questions in the third exciting installment of Love AI Style.


All proceeds from this series will go towards providing the author with an AI assistant. 






Thursday, August 22, 2019

Fairy Tales, Comics, and the Marks Mercenaries


We all love fairy tales. They’re familiar stories we all know from childhood. While many people enjoy Cinderella and Snow White, I’ve always been more partial to Beauty and the Beast. I had the Classic Illustrated Junior comic as a child and fell in love with the beast.



It shows in my writing. Even now, I love the dark hero, the man who lives in the shadows, the one who doesn’t think he deserves happiness. When this man finds love, he understands how precious it is. He may fight it for a while, but ultimately he grabs on tight and fights to keep it.

Garth Marks from Liberating Lacey, book 3 of the Marks Mercenaries series, is known and feared for his physical prowess, even though his intelligence isn’t in question. But most never see beyond that. Until one woman does. Too bad he has to leave her behind.


Here’s a tease from Liberating Lacey, book 3 of the Marks Mercenaries series.

TEASER:

She looked so forlorn, so resigned to her fate. She hadn’t begged him to change his mind, had seemed to accept his decision not to help her. His jaw flexed as he ground his back teeth together, and a muscle pulsed under his eye. What had she been through in her life that she expected to be denied, to have to figure things out on her own?

Garth was being torn apart by the conflicting emotions battling inside of him. Finding his sister was the goal. That, and the protection of his brothers, was what drove him. He didn’t have a place in his life for a woman, especially not one as soft and small as Lacey.

But he couldn’t help being drawn to her. She was the beauty to his beast. It was an old Earth tale his mother had read them as children, the pages of the book worn and the ink faded from years of use. He’d always sympathized with the beast. Even as a kid, he’d been broader and stronger than those of his age. They didn’t dare bully him because of his size. Not only that, but his older brothers would have kicked their asses. But he’d sensed their eyes on him, heard the names they’d call him. He’d ignored them and concentrated on getting even stronger, determined to use it to protect himself and his family.

Lacey was as delicate as a flower, her body supple and lovely. But there was an underlying strength there as well that drew him. Like a flower, she’d sway with the breeze, surviving a hurricane where a mighty oak, refusing to bend, would crack and fall. It didn’t escape him that he was the unbending oak.



Liberating Lacey
Marks Mercenaries, Book 3

Garth Marks and his brothers are space mercenaries and traders. Their life’s mission is to find their younger sister, who was kidnapped ten years before. Their search has led them to Eden, a planet that is home to a cult-like group.

Lacey Freshlan wants to get away from Eden, and the strangers who have come here might be her ticket out. Garth is willing to use the sizzling attraction between them to get information from her, but he won’t agree to take her with him. As much as he’s drawn to her, Garth won’t risk the safety of his family.

When Lacey foils a plot to poison them, Garth takes her with them when they flee. But they are not free yet. Betrayal and lies lead to a battle not only for their safety but also for their hearts.



If you love space mercenaries, you’ll love the Marks brothers. These men are tough and focused. Their goal—finding their sister who was abducted years ago.

The first four books in the series have been released—Rescuing Rory, Unexpected Angel, Liberating Lacey, and Salvaging Abby.



N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
                   
Visit me at:
Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5



Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Warlord by Delta James is LIVE!

 

Two strong alphas collide on the coast of Wales in a post-apocalyptic dark shifter fantasy

Warlord: A Dark Shifter Romance
by Delta James is OUT NOW!
 
Get it ONLY on Amazon!!
Amazon US → https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VZ3XWWC/
Amazon UK → https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07VZ3XWWC/
Amazon CA → https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07VZ3XWWC/
Amazon AU → https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07VZ3XWWC/
Or read for #FREE in Kindle Unlimited!!!

BLURB:
He came to conquer her lands. He decided to conquer her. When Rowan took control of her pack upon her father’s death, she vowed never to marry, and many a suitor has since been sent home disappointed—or dead, if he pushed his advances too far. But Alaric of Ravenscar is no suitor. He is a warlord, never defeated in battle, and he has come to take what he wants. He means to claim not just Rowan’s lands and her pack, but her as well. Soon she will be marked as his mate, but first she must be thoroughly and shamefully mastered. Publisher’s Note: Warlord includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.   Excerpt: “Good girl,” he said as he relentlessly inserted himself into her fully. “There now, you have all of me. God, you feel good. So tight and deliciously naughty.”   He rumbled at her with seduction and exaltation. She knew that he was deriving as much pleasure from her submission as from the physical sensations. Without releasing his hold on her, he began to gently thrust within her. Rowan gasped not from pain but from the ease with which she accommodated his intrusion. She heard him groan deeply as he began to use her to bring about his own release.   Surprisingly, she found her body was more than ready to meet his at the pinnacle of ecstasy. Even as overwhelmed as she was, she found that Alaric’s stroking of her bottom hole caused her clit to throb in rhythm with his and her pussy to tingle in anticipation of climaxing and clamping down on his cock. The fact that she was deriving as much pleasure as she was from something that somehow she felt should be wrong was intoxicating and liberating.    
About Delta James
Sinfully sultry romance - that's the world that International and US best selling author Delta James inhabits and shares with her readers. A world where alpha heroes find true love with feisty heroines. Delta's stories are filled with erotic encounters of romance and discipline. One fan suggested it was best to have a "fan and a glass of water" when reading Delta's stories. Delta has been a highly successful competitor both in horse shows (Arabians, Appaloosas and Paints) and in the AKC and International Kennel Club with her beloved basset hounds. Delta is always happy to hear from those who enjoy her work - and even those who don't. She can be reached at deltajames-author@hotmail.com
Want to be in the know about everything Delta James?
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Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Fallen Protector is Here! Check out the first chapter for FREE...

Good morning everyone! Today, I would like to share with you a snippet of Fallen Alpha which is available now at your favorite retailer!

Michele and I are back with the BAD Bad Alpha Dads series for a spin off, called Fallen Angels. This will be a few books, but not many.

However, it does have a few familiar faces. We hope to have book 2 up sometime late fall/early winter if it is possible. Until then, please enjoy, Fallen Protector.

Until next time,

TL and Michele


Blurb:


The prodigal son…
Gabriel Raferty has been in the shadows of his family long enough. As a psychic medium and shifter, his career as a deputy sheriff and now an agent of PRA—Psychic Retrieval Agency, has led to the closing of several cold cases and the recovery of psychic children. He is also the lead authority on a synthetic pheromone-based recreational drug: Éviel.
The forgotten…
Raphael Angelo or Rafe for short, is the lead member of the Fallen Angel division of FPU—Federal Paranormal Unit. After taking some downtime to blow off some steam, he wakes two days later with no memory of what happened. His only clue, a small patch on the back of his leg with the letters, E V I E L.
Two worlds collide…
Before Rafe can bring what little evidence he has of his bender to the labs, he is sent out on a new mission. The dead bodies of two adults and three children have been found in a shallow grave near a burned out warehouse operated by an outlawed faction of the government—Paranormal Bounty Hunters, better known as PBH. Rafe and Gabriel must work together to find the killer and stop the kidnappings from happening again.
But, what happens when the full moon is upon them and the drug coursing through Rafe’s body changes their mission?
This is the first book in the Fallen Angels series
Chapter One

The cursed pounding in Rafe’s head woke him. The scent of sex, stale alcohol, and a sundry of other things he didn’t want to think about made his stomach turn. He moaned, throwing his arm over his too sensitive, still-closed eyes. What the fuck happened? How the fuck did I get here? Where is here? He tried to remember where he’d been, yet when he delved into his memories, all he found was a black wall which caused the incessant throb to intensify.


 He tried to sit up, but couldn’t force his body to move. His limbs lacked the coordination even a newborn possessed, and his dick ached from too much use. Even his balls had a void in them he’d never experienced before. Why couldn’t he recall where he’d been or what he’d done? He smacked the bed then cursed the fact he’d done so.
Raphael “Rafe” Angelo cracked one of his eyes open and hissed. The dim light of a new day burned his retinas. Was this what a hangover felt like? He’d laugh if he could. Beings like him didn’t get hangovers. It was physically impossible. Yet, there he lay, in a bed caked in crusty jizz and... Was that piss he smelled and rank B.O.?
He wrinkled his nose.
What kind of debauched fuckery had he partaken in?
He tried to swallow and coughed. Sticks—damn near the size of sequoias—or what felt like it, were lodged in his throat. He slid his tongue across the roof of his mouth and grimaced. The sandpaper-like appendage surprised him as well. Something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
The pounding in his head increased once more as he tried to recall his memories for the last week along with where he’d been and what he was doing. A giant black void greeted him once more, causing him to wince in pain.
I’m dying, I know it.
Rafe sat up then fell back over.
Nope. Not happening. The world around him spun. His stomach lurched. The burn of bile creeping up his throat left an acidic trail along his esophagus. He closed his eyes again, willing the marching band currently taking up residence in his brain matter to disperse. It didn’t work. Any other time, waking up covered in dried cum would have turned him on. He would have relished it. Puffed his chest out and strut around for several days, but this was bad. He should have been able to remember what he did.
Where he went.
He glanced over at his clock. The blurry red numbers came into focus. Five forty-five? In the morning? He’d missed his run. Shit. Caim, his second in command, would have his ass. As the leader of the Fallen Angels unit, under the direction of the FBI, Rafe had certain expectations of his men. One of them being, they had to be at their peak performance. Every morning, they went for a run. Every evening, they worked out. If they had an assignment, they took the opportunities as they came.
Here he was, slacking off.
Rafe sat up again. The world tilted and rolled, causing him to suck air between clenched teeth. A sour sickening feeling sloshed in his stomach, and he willed the poor, abused organ to still. Unfortunately, it didn’t listen. He stumbled into the bathroom, making it in time to give a horrid offering to the porcelain god or whatever humans called a shitter when drunk.
The thick bile ripped at his insides as he heaved the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet once more. Twice more, he dry heaved then nothing. The pain in his brain cleared. The dizzy roller coaster stopped. A new ache took root in his gut—hunger.
Now I know something is wrong.
He flushed the toilet then stood on weakened legs. Even with whatever plagued him being purged from his system, the lethargy remained, making every task that much harder to accomplish. Rafe flipped on the shower, hoping the hot water would flush the remains of whatever caused him such ailment. His skin dampened from the steam filling the bathroom, and the skin on the back of his leg felt off. He scratched the area and frowned when his fingers came into contact with something rough.
A patch, no bigger than a small round bandage, lay a bit below his left butt cheek. He traced the fabric disk, trying to remember what he’d done to warrant such a tiny object, especially since his healing abilities were twice what a normal fallen angel’s were. Rafe scratched at it again, and it peeled away from his skin without effort. He glanced down at the sticky object and frowned. The letters É V I E L were printed diagonally on the front of it. On the back, a yellowish, odorless substance.
Somehow, he knew, without it having to be analyzed, that thing resting in the palm of his hand had been the culprit for all of his issues. What it was or how it got onto him, he’d have to figure out. He carried it back into his room where his go-bag lay on the floor next to the door of his room. Inside, were several small evidence bags. Rafe removed one, then placed the disk inside.
Once he got it into the pouch and sealed with evidence tape, he initialed it, then went to take his shower. He bent his head under the warm spray and closed his eyes, trying to figure out everywhere he’d been. No matter how hard he concentrated on the time he’d lost, it was still a blank canvas. It was as if someone had wiped his memories for fuck knows how many days or hours or hell–with the way his bed smelled–weeks?
When he finished getting all the crusty grime off of his body, he felt a little more like himself. For sure, he’d be worried if he was human. No one wanted to wake up in their bedroom, covered in their cum, and someone else’s without memory of what they did. Fallen and wolves wouldn’t get human diseases, nor were there any types of paranormal afflictions. Didn’t mean it didn’t wig him out.
As he wrapped a towel around his waist, he caught a glimpse of a receipt in the bathroom trash can. Louis’s Bar. His normal hang joint when he wanted to grab a drink. Rafe glanced at the order and frowned. He’d had two drinks. So, how the fuck did I end up so messed up? He growled, crumbling up the paper.
The last time he’d felt so lost, had been the day he fell. The only thing Rafe remembered from God casting him and his brethren out, was falling and his spirit binding with a wolf. Raum had been the only other member of his team to have a dual nature. His spirit bonded with a crow. Together, they learned how to interact with the creatures dwelling within. Now, Rafe’s wolf became an extension of the man who walked with it. If he lost the furry monster, he didn’t know what he’d do.
After he dressed, Rafe grabbed his things, determined to figure out what had transpired. He slipped the small evidence packet into the pouch of his bag then grabbed his phone off the nightstand. At least he’d had the wherewithal to put his phone somewhere safe. It vibrated in his hand and Rafe frowned. Glancing at the screen, he realized he’d missed several phone calls including six from Caim.
Shit, what did I do?
He slid his finger across the screen as he stepped out of his apartment. “Angelo here.” His bike wasn’t parked where it should be. It was six spots down on the opposite side of the building divider.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kendrick—his boss.
“Good question,” he answered.
“Are you smart mouthing me?” Kendrick snapped.
“Nope. What can I do for you?” He placed his pack in the left-side saddle bag then straddled the beast of a bike.
“I need you to haul your ass into the office, if it isn’t interfering in your sabbatical.”
Rafe frowned. How long had he been missing or in Adams’s estimation taking a vacation? “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Hurry up.”
He clipped his phone to the holder on his bike then started it. Later, after his meeting, he’d send the package off to the lab and wait for the results. He pulled out of the driveway of his apartment and headed toward the office. A niggle at the back of his mind said he should be worried. Maybe not about getting sick, however he couldn’t account for his lost time. What the fuck had he done?
The drive to headquarters gave him the chance to access whatever memories he had. He could recall everything up to the void in his mind and waking that morning. Anything in between–still nothing. The last thing he’d said to Caim was taking downtime. The whole team needed it after the last case. They agreed to meet up on Monday and debrief.
What day is it?
The usually stalwart wolf within him, whined. The sound caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end. Be at ease, brother. We’ll figure this out. He pulled into the parking lot of the FBI field office and found a spot near the door. On a normal day, he’d park in the north forty, but due to the situation at hand, he didn’t have time for dilly-dick’n around.
Rafe hurried inside and came to a sliding stop at Kendrick’s office. The door was open, and his team filled the space. All eyes were on him. He cleared his throat and took a seat next to Caim who stared him down. The wolf inside him sat up at the challenge, demanding his second come to heel or be ready to throw down.
Caim snorted then shook his head.
“We done pissing around?” Kendrick grumbled. The half-demon half-shifter with abilities, stared a hole in the middle of Rafe’s head. He knew what the man was trying to do, and Rafe allowed it. If anyone could cut through the black goo keeping his memories at bay, Kendrick could.
“Anything?”
The man snorted. “Nope.”
Fuck.
Kendrick handed Rafe a file before opening his own. “This morning, a call came in about a shallow grave off of the Old Forest River trail in Salem. An investigative unit is already on scene with two more highly trained agents in route as we speak. This isn’t a human matter. It’s something else. Have any of you heard of a covert government unit called Paranormal Bounty Hunters or PBH for short?”
Rafe had heard some rumblings about the group. PBH was a collection of government scientists willing to kidnap shifters and others—those with psychic abilities—to breed/create new super soldiers for the defense department—or that’s what PBH wanted people to believe. Hell, it’d been almost thirty years or so since he heard the first rumblings of them and about ten years since the last time he’d been aware of their existence. If the last bit of information was correct, all of their original leaders were either dead after spending life in prison or were killed on the spot.
“It’s been a long time,” Rafe said. “What do they have to do with this?”
“Everything,” Kendrick replied. “A group of shifters out of Window Rock, Arizona have been trying to protect shifters, others, and those with abilities. In the last fifteen years, PRA—Psychic Retrieval Agency, has relocated hundreds of children and teens. This, I suspect, has been the first fuck up for them. If the intel is correct. The shallow grave contained the two agents, two adults, and two children. We don’t have much to go by, other than the report taken and the initial outreach phone call made to our unit.”
“Hence why you want us on the ground,” Raum stated. “You know we lost our sight when we fell.”
They couldn’t see the dead anymore. They’d also lost their link to the other angels and to God. They were completely blind on the mortal plane, which made their job ten times harder while also making them somewhat human.
“This isn’t the first case, though,” Kendrick said. “With the little digging I did while waiting for you guys to show up, I found several similar types of cases. None could ever be linked, but this might be the one that does. I have sent them to your tablets and requested all of the crime scene photos be sent to your hotel. It should all be there when you arrive.”
Rafe nodded. “Makes sense. Sometimes, serial killers hone their skills. Do it enough times, and they can become proficient enough to not get caught.”
“Like the Zodiac killer,” Raum said.
“Exactly,” Kendrick answered. “Which also means this case might be like finding a needle in a haystack. However, that’s where the two agents come in. You’ll meet up with them on-site and work together to find those responsible.”
“What’s their ETA?” Rafe flipped through the meager paperwork from the incident form and frowned.
“Two hours. They will be escorted in by two federal agents, Hauser Benefield and Maxwell Steele. A perk, I guess, of who they are and their clout.”
Got it. Self-important agents. “Then we should get on the road.” The drive would take an hour and half, depending on traffic. Plus, they still needed to gear up and load their equipment into their SUVs.
They broke from their meeting, and Caim grabbed Rafe’s arm. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Apparently,” he answered, “home.”
“For three days?” Caim cocked a brow.
Three fucking days? How the hell had he lost that much time? What the fuck had he been doing? He’d freak out later when he was alone; right now, he had to keep his shit together. “Yeah, why?”
“I have been trying to call you since you left the bar with that guy.” Caim matched him stride for stride as they headed for their supply room.
Well, that also explained the stains and smells on his bed. They’d been laying in their own cum and bodily fluids for days. I am burning that fucking shit when I get back. No way in hell I’ll be sleeping on that mattress again. “Sorry, I think I shut off my phone on accident.”
“It’s been three fucking days,” Caim hissed in a hushed tone.
“Good piece of ass,” Rafe replied, trying to keep his shit together. “What can I say?”
Caim shook his head. “You suck at being a leader.”
He never claimed to be the best, either. “Whatever. Let’s get our shit and go. It sounds like we have some haughty agents coming in, and I don’t need them riding my ass because we’re not there to escort them or whatever the hell they expect from us.” The patch in his bag would have to wait. If PRA agents were involved in their case, even the little bits Rafe knew of them, all hell had broken loose.
The heads of the agency were asshole shifters. Kalkin Raferty, the Sheriff of Apache County shared PRA duties along with his Co-Alpha Rapier Dryer, and Jerome Blackhorn, a highly decorated former FBI Agent, and Beta Caden Raferty. Their mates Keeley, Danielle, and Jasmine also had a hand in the agency. Keeley Raferty ran the traces and hacked databases along the way, kind of like an underground railroad getting all who needed help from point A to point B—to them in Window Rock. Danielle Raferty was their resident healer and doctor, while Jasmine Dryer ran the children’s therapy clinic. Brienne Blu worked with the adults who happened upon them for services as well. The Alpha, from the information he could recall about the man, made it his mission to protect their kind. For all his bullshit bluster, Kalkin Raferty, even though he was an asshole, had been a stand-up guy, and a fair Alpha, more than most packs would ever see.
“Yeah, this conversation is far from over, but you’re right. Our victims need us. I won’t let you fuck this up.” Caim pushed past him and went straight to his locker.
Ouch, my feelings.