Gemini Book Blitz

Title: Gemini

Author: Dylan Quinn

Genre: NA Urban Fantasy Romance

Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR

Blurb:  Twin Souls. One Sacrifice.

Northwestern University senior Zoe Adams has spent her fifth incarnation on the run. Abused and abandoned by those she once trusted, Zoe turns her back on a duty her soul accepted lifetimes ago to focus on a music career in this one. Until her Gemini's untimely arrival forces Zoe to choose between a love she can't remember and a life she's always dreamed of.

Cade Adams has waited twenty-one years to reclaim his beloved soul mate, but his elation is short lived. As Zoe struggles to let go of her human life, demons from Cade and Zoe's past threaten the Gemini, and they find themselves living on borrowed time.

The Tree of Souls is empty, and only the Eternal Sacrifice can refill it. Is forgotten love worth dying for, or is five incarnations more than one soul can take? With more than just the fate of their reunion at stake, love becomes an Eternal Sacrifice Zoe and Cade may not escape.

Since sneak reading her first big girl romance at the age of eleven, Dylan's been addicted to Happily Ever Afters. Playing pretend with swoon-worthy book boyfriends and their strong leading ladies often keeps Dylan sleep deprived, though she seldom complains about dreaming in dialogue.

With juxtaposed interests, Dylan writes it all ~ Character driven romance in NA, YA and adult, from sticky sweet to taboo heat ~ Urban Fantasy to Contemporary Romance and Romantic Suspense. Nothing's off limits.

When she's not writing guilty pleasures, Dylan plays stage mom to her daydreamer offspring in the Midwest. This Music fangirl goes nowhere without her beats and playlists. She has an affinity for Moscato and chocolate-covered strawberries. Dreams of singing on the Voice with Adam and Christina, and fantasizes about getting trapped in Mystic Falls with Damon Salvatore.

Author Links:

Web: http://www.dylanquinn.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Dylan_Quinn

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorGwendylanQuinn/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15162362.Dylan_Quinn

Amazon: http://amzn.to/28UtyYu

Buy Links:

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Amazon: http://amzn.to/28WwUxh

Gemini Excerpt published with permission © 2016 Dylan Quinn

Cade

While I held Zoe, every nerve woke from its slumber. My heartbeat increased and a hum of energy surged through me. Just being near her was intoxicating.

I craved to kiss her lips, but I wouldn't. Not until she sought me to.

Until her body spoke to me.

"So what can you tell me?" She asked. "What's the plan?"

"The plan is you get to know me. The way all relationships develop." I released her just enough to look into her eyes. "We spend time together, and your heart will answer the rest. And when you so choose, I’m yours—heart and soul."

Although in time, she would understand that I already was.

"What's the catch? Other than giving up my life here? I need all the information if I'm going to make a decision this important."

"There’s a reason you can’t be privy to all the secrets of this life. This must be a decision based on your soul. No logic can go into choosing love."

Her eyes narrowed, and her irritation returned.

"Well in case you've missed the past millennium, people today don't just fall in love overnight. Life's not a Disney movie."

She pulled away, and I let her go.

Zoe was right. Unions in modern times were complicated. Raz said there were many variables humans took into account when choosing a mate, and Zoe, although the same soul, had different experiences during each incarnation. I couldn’t force her to love me or to choose our life together, as much as I wanted to.

Each of her lives was a lesson for me as well—in relinquishing control. All I could do was trust in her heart and our love. Trust her soul would return to me.

"Humanity is about choice. I would never force you to love me. And I would never choose my happiness over yours, but yes. I am hoping your heart will choose me."

Her breathing slowed, and her lips parted slightly, just enough to send my heart racing.

My Gemini mark began to pulsate. To burn.

I needed to kiss her.

She needed to kiss me.

After thousands of years loving Zoe, I could read her body as if it were my own.

Searching for what Raz called her tells, I first regarded her eyes. They were always the most expressive. They danced between mine and my mouth. Her breaths became shallow. A pink flush spread across her cheeks as she inched toward me, shifting nervously between her feet.

Should I try? Part of me was unsure, but my body betrayed my wits.

I’d waited twenty-one years for this moment.

I could wait no longer.

I moved toward her, inhaling her sweet scent, and rid the space between us.

Her eyes grew wider, and her lips parted. Waiting. I could hear her heart pulsing rapidly.

Her body gave her answer.

"My greatest desire is for you to find happiness." I stepped closer, picked up a long strand of her dark locks and tucked it behind her ear. Running my fingers along her jaw, I whispered across her cheek.

"You have no memory of a life before this."

I gently grasped her chin, stroked her bottom lip with my thumb, and edged toward her.

"But I've seen our life together."

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer, our lips now fractions apart.

Her eyes never left mine, and her body trembled in my arms.

"And I will always. Choose us."

Her breath breezed across my cheek as I pressed my lips to hers. Soft. Gentle. Trembling beneath mine. The tingling sensation I’d missed so much returned, running rampant throughout my body.

I pulled back, not more than a centimeter, to gauge her response.

Her eyes remained closed, lips parted. Waiting for my return.

I brushed a kiss gently, then deeper into her.

She allowed me to explore her soft lips. They parted further still, and I edged my way in, exploring her sweet mouth.

An intense force rushed through my veins, to my chest and arms. Her life force burned within every muscle. My body that longed for her was now alive from her touch.

Zoe fell into my embrace, letting go of all the tension she'd been holding. She enfolded her arms around my neck, pressed her chest against mine, and gently tugged at my hair. Her hands ran down my cheeks, then to my shoulders and waist.

She pressed her kiss deeper into mine, soft at first, then fervently, as if this was our last.

One block at a time, her wall was crumbling—the pain replaced with a longing for our love. Soon, her memories would resurface, and I would have my Chayah back. Our souls Converged as one.

Zoe broke our kiss, pulled back and gulped a breath of air. She opened her eyes, her body still quaking in my arms. A minute passed. Her gaze drifted up, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

"It's you," she whispered.

I placed my hands on her face, held her cheeks gently, and gazed into her emerald eyes.

“It's me."

Rocked by a Vampire Review Blitz!

Title: Rocked by a Vampire

Author: Susan Griscom

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Cover Designer: Susan Griscom

Cover model: Brandon Katz, Period Images Photography

Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Blurb: He’s dangerously sexy, insufferably arrogant, rude, and complicated as hell, yet what he reveals to her makes it impossible to stay angry and she can’t stop her growing desire for him.

Lane, the younger twin of two powerful and sexy vampires, has always walked in his brother’s shadow. And for good reason. There are monsters that plague his mind. Demons that once destroyed him. Broke him. Now, his desire for Vanessa torments him, igniting those revenants whenever he thinks of her. He’s desired her for months, but he hates what she is—what she stands for. Can the witch he loathes be the one to tame his demons, or will she only send him farther into hell?

He wants to claim her, own her until he discovers something about her he has no choice but to admire, and when she lets down her guard, all he wants to do is comfort her—love her.

Vanessa has her own fears to conquer. A witch by birthright, she’s powerful yet vulnerable. How the hell will she be able to help Lane defeat his demons if she can’t overcome her own?

They rock each other's worlds, but when evil comes knocking at their door, someone will need to die or they’ll lose each other forever.

Out of this series, I would have to say that this is my favourite book. I love the elements at play with Lane being who he is and Vanessa being what she is, and both having demons. Susan really upped her writing skills with their story. It made me feel heartbroken for them both and put their emotions so out there, I wanted to scream at them to get together already at the beginning. 

If you are a fan of Susan's, and love this series, you will definitely fall in love with Lane. He may be a dick, but he has his reasons. But believe me, he does have a softer side. 

Susan Griscom writes paranormal and contemporary romance. She's hooked on sexy romances and is a huge fan of superheroes and bad boys confronted with extraordinary forces of nature, powers, and abilities beyond the norm mixed with steamy romance, of course.

She loves those days when she gets to sit around in her sweat pants, doing nothing but writing emotionally charged stories about love and violence, and drinking coffee.

She lives in Northern California with her romantic husband and together they have five great superhero kids and eight mini-superhero grand kids, so far.

Learn more about Susan by visiting her website: http://susangriscom.com

Author Links:

Facebook: http://facebook.com/SMGriscom

Twitter: http://twitter.com/SusanGriscom

Instagram: http://instagram.com/SusanGriscom Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/SusanGriscom

Google +: http://plus.google.com/+SusanGriscom

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/susangriscom

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/SusanGriscom

Amazon: http://amzn.to/28NDlTC

Buy Links:

Tempted by a Vampire: http://amzn.to/2auXvkY

Captivated by a Vampire: http://amzn.to/2aIdhs6 Rocked by a Vampire: http://amzn.to/2ajmidM

Chapter One

Lane

Lyrics formed in my mind. Words of lust, regret, pain, and pure, unadulterated love morphed into verses and appeared on the music sheet before me. Intermittent chords flowed from my fingers made tangible by the keys of the grand piano. I jotted down notes as I heard them, sealing them to the words. The pen in my hand couldn’t move fast enough to write.

I’d been writing this song for about six months now. No one knew about it. I only worked on it when no one else was around. At the time, I’d thought it would be a good idea to put my emotions down on paper, but now, I didn’t know anymore. Every time I read them, a sick feeling gnawed inside of me, chomping away. Tormenting. Haunting.

It was a ballad, a love song, a sad song. A brooding tune. A melody that no one would probably ever hear. Just my morbid form of meditation needing an outlet. At least that’s what I told myself.

I wasn’t always easy to get along with these days. I knew this. No one had to tell me. And I found it particularly difficult when it came to certain people.

I’d had my share of relationships, or should I say my share of women. In all my two hundred and twenty years, I didn’t think I’d ever had a serious relationship with a woman. Vampire or human.

Some might call me a monster. But does a monster have a conscience? Or know regret? Fear the absence of dignity? I’d been on this planet for a long time. Long enough to know that there was no remedy for self-abhorrence. No therapeutic massage or bath crystals could ever tame the imprints of depression as they embedded their way into each and every one of my nerve endings on a daily basis.

Rock and roll was my life. I lived it, breathed it; it was my salvation. Music had always been a part of me. Without it, I might as well dig a hole in the ground and cover myself up with dirt. Though that wouldn’t kill me. Only aggravate the shit out of me.

There was nothing but silence now. The notes and words stared back at me, waiting for something more. But I had nothing. Nothing to complete the verse, nothing to make the pain go away. I gazed at the ivory keys as if they could magically give me what I needed. I stroked my hand over them in hope.

The piano, the main focal point of the large living area, was the one thing I’d insisted we purchase when we bought this mansion about seventy-five years ago. It had called to me, but back then, it had probably called to my brother also. We were alike in that way.

Voices filtered in from just outside the room, and I quickly gathered up the music sheets, tucking them inside my shirt for safekeeping—or hiding if I was being honest about it.

Shoving myself away from the ivory keys, I strolled to the iron blinds imprisoning us and waited.

Without a word, two bodies came to stand next to me. In a not too distant past, there had been only one. Then my brother Cian had found what he called his soul mate. Who was I to argue about that? So, this was our nightly ritual—stand in front of the iron blinds at sunset and wait for the ugly things to rise and give us our freedom from the daytime prison we existed in.

“I think we should do away with the blinds,” Cian said, sounding ridiculously serious. He had one arm around Maggie and a tumbler of scotch in his free hand. His torn jeans left one knee completely exposed, and the ragged edges of the hems skimmed the top of his bare feet. His shirt hung open, revealing his muscled chest covered in tattoos. I’d heard many ladies utter that my twin had the body of Adonis. I did a mental shrug at the thought. Maggie leaned against him dressed similarly, only her jeans had more holes, and her purple-flowered blouse remained buttoned, but flowed loosely at her waist. Her dark brown locks cascaded over her shoulders in messy curls, giving her that just fucked looked. I smiled. Glad my brother was happy.

“I think love has seeped into your brain and replaced the ventricles with giddy, stupid shit,” I answered.

Cian chuckled. “I won’t argue with that. But I think it’s time for a change. One-way reflective glass.” He said the last part like it was an answer to a question no one had asked.

I gave him a raised eyebrow of interest. “Like mirrored glass?”

“Exactly.”

I nodded.

“There’s a material that’s supposed to block ninety-nine percent of the sun’s ultraviolet rays. That would be enough to protect us.”

“Make it a hundred, and I’m all for it.”

“We could start with one window and see what happens,” Maggie added in her adorable, female, take-me-to-bed-and-fuck-me voice that was hard to say no to. I knew my brother couldn’t. Which made me somewhat skeptical about just whose idea this was.

“If you want to pretend you’re outside during the day, just go to the artificial sunroom you made.” How many more things was Cian going to change or add to this mansion just to please his woman? This was my house, too.

“She’s right, Lane. These old eyes of ours have been too long in the dark. I think we should give it a try. At least one window to see.”

Fuck. Maybe I was just too broody today. “One window,” I agreed. “But don’t count on me when it comes time to test it out. I know what it’s like being caught out in the sun. The amount of time it takes to become completely incapacitated is seconds. Not a fun day in my book.”

“I’ll try it first,” Maggie said, and I gave her a sideways glare that she didn’t catch.

“No. I will,” my twin, the goddamn hero said. He was six and a half minutes older, but we were as different as fire and water.

“But if it’s me, Ari won’t have as hard a time picking me up if it doesn’t work,” Maggie countered.

“She’s got a point, brother.” I grabbed the drink from his hand and took a sip while he frowned at me. But he didn’t stop me. “You should have brought me one,” I said as I handed it back to him. Ari, our mortal friend, our treasured human confidante, took care of all the things that we couldn’t in the daylight. The sun wouldn’t kill us, but it hurt like a motherfucker. If Maggie were to become ill from the sun’s rays, I’d be sad, but not as devastated as if something were to happen to Cian. Maybe I was a cold-hearted bastard, but I was only being real.

“Hey, you’re all up. Great! I have some good news and some bad news.” The sweet, lyrical voice that belonged to the ‘good and bad news’ was Vanessa. I squeezed my eyes shut at the sound of her sensual vocalization, wishing she would just go away. She wasn’t only Magdalena’s best friend, she was also a witch. Being human was bad enough, I didn’t need the extra added irritant of a witch hanging around.

“Oh, good. The witch has some news to share. Perhaps we should all grab a drink so we can listen without choking on our own saliva at the usual absurdness,” I said flippantly. But in truth, my statement only represented my unwarranted feelings toward the woman; however, a drink was most definitely required if I were to stay and listen. Which I shouldn’t. But I would, because now that she was here, all I wanted to do was stay. Bask in her delicious smells, the melodic sound of her voice, her slender and shapely legs. Though I pretended not to notice her, I never missed a thing about her. I walked over to the credenza and poured myself a generous two fingers of scotch; then added in a little more for good measure.

The witch’s blonde hair was too thick, with long, beautiful curls dyed a pretty, vibrant pink at the tips. Her eyes were too green and bright, I could practically see myself in them. Her lips were too plump and always looked ready to kiss. The curves of her body tormented me, especially when she wore those skintight workout pants she always seemed to parade around in. Tonight, she wore a short, emerald-green skirt that brightened the color of her eyes even more. It didn’t help that her top was low-cut, dipping down to the center of her abdomen, giving me a hint of the lean, tight muscles of her stomach that I ached to run my tongue over. Even her last name sounded decadent and sinful. Creamer. It was very difficult to keep my cock from growing stiff as a board inside my pants whenever I was around her.

But I had rules. No humans, and especially no fucking witches.

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Sentinal's Tear Release Day Blitz & Giveaway

Title: Sentinal’s Tear

Author: Christine Fonseca

Genre: YA Gothic Romance

Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR

Blurb: As if casting out demons isn’t hard enough, five-hundred-year-old Nesy has to masquerade as a teenage girl to do it.

Nesy is the best of an elite group of angels – warriors called Sentinals – charged with the job of vanquishing the fallen. She’s never made a mistake, never gotten emotionally involved. But when she comes face-to-face with Aydan, she freezes.

He is evil incarnate. A fallen angel that feeds off the souls of others. Everything Nesy is supposed to hate.  But she can’t, because he’s also the human love of her former life as a teen; a life that ended too soon, tying her to emotions she should never feel. Now she must choose between doing her duty – damning Aydan to the fiery depths of hell – or saving him, and condemning herself.

Tagline: Some sacrifices should never be made—even for love.

Award-winning and critically-acclaimed author of fiction and non-fiction. Lover of books, lattes, and family. Passionate about humanity. Recent titles include Transcend, The Solomon Experiment series, and Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students, second edition.

When Christine isn’t writing a book, she can be found sipping too many skinny vanilla lattes next to a beach with a book in her hand.

For more information, visit her website – http://christinefonseca.com.

Author Links:

Website: http://christinefonseca.com

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/chrstinef

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christine-Fonseca-Author/226271671435

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ChristineFonseca/posts

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1ovspOw

Buy Links: Amazon: http://amzn.to/2a4YXZ9

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sentinals-tear-christine-fonseca/1124182786?ean=2940046322866#productInfoTabs

iTunes: https://itun.es/us/ZT4IY.l

Chapter 1

Nesy

I shift in the booth, careful to remain hidden in the shadows. My human form feels foreign, awkward. Nothing about tonight’s assignment seems right; not the constant thoughts echoing through my mind nor the everpresent feelings I can’t seem to shake.

I tighten the muscles across my back, desperate to escape the confinement that comes with this new body. One I never wanted.

My senses register each scent, each sound, adding to the noise of too much mental chatter already ricocheting in my head. Sweat and too-strong perfume from the tangled mix of bodies on the dance floor burn my nostrils. My heart pounds against my ribs and unfamiliar twinges of fear cloud my vision. Feelings I can’t decipher crawl through my skin, sending chills throughout my body.

I may have prepared for this task, but nothing could prepare me for being a seventeen-year-old girl.

Again. 

I slip further into the booth, surveying the scene. Lights pulse around me, synchronized to the blaring sounds that pound from the speakers. Clubbers sway to the music in intoxicating rhythms, casting a spell throughout the room.

And somewhere in the crowd lurks the one I came for—the UnHoly. 

I narrow my eyes, taking in the irony of the church-turned-nightclub. Tall, gothic arches adorn the ceiling. Old stone sculptures of saints and angels watch the hordes of teens gyrating on the dance floor. The altar, once a sanctuary, now houses a stage where up-and-coming bands woo adoring fans. The remaining spaces are punctuated with small alcoves designed to hide the club’s true patrons: dark creatures that feed on the lust and fear of the human crowd.

My task is simple enough: find the UnHoly and vanquish him to the Abyss. Just like the countless other assignments I’ve had over the past few centuries. But something about this task feels wrong. Something that sends fresh shivers cascading down my very human spine.  

Little information was given to me about my target, only his name, location, and human age. I’d have to figure out the rest. No problem, since vanquishing the UnHoly is my specialty; whether I’m stuck in a teenage body or not.

I take one last sip of water and recite my plan:

One: Find the UnHoly.

Two: Lure him away from the crowd. Don’t want to ruin my perfect record with collateral damage.

Three: Cast him out.

What could go wrong?

Satisfied, I settle my thoughts and prepare for battle. The sooner this is finished, the sooner I can ditch this body and escape the chaos it brings. My human form may look similar to my angelic being, with its familiar blond hair and blue eyes. But I hate being trapped in this flesh, stifled by the heaviness of this body. I miss feeling the air move through my wings and play across my skin. More than anything else, I miss the quiet solitude of my mind; no emotions to muddle my thinking, no angst to cloud my judgment. Necessary or not, I’m never masquerading as a teenager again.  

I smooth out my clothes—black leather skirt, black tee, leather jacket and boots that stretch up my long legs—and approach the altar-turned-stage.

“Hi there,” I say to the stooge blocking my entrance. I lock eyes with him, tipping my head slightly. I may not like being human, but I do know how to use this body to get what I want. “Is Aydan here tonight?”

The would-be guard swallows hard.

Perfect.

His gaze rakes over every inch of me as his lips part slightly. He swallows hard and smirks. 

Oh yeah, he’s easy. “So? Is he?” I purr.

He fumbles over his words. “Um, yeah. The band performs in a few minutes. Want me to get him for you?”

I think about it for a second, picture my plan in detail. “No, I’ll try to find him after his set.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll find you. You’re just his type,” the guard says.

Of course I am.

The lights dim and I take my position in front of the stage. Four dark shapes emerge from the shadows. The band. I scan each one as the crowd fills in behind me.

Heavy sounds from the bass guitar and drums send the horde into a frenzy. I move with the crowd and continue to search. Which one is he? The drummer? Nope, he’s definitely human. The guitarist? Maybe. He’s too dark to be fully mortal. Too demonic.

But he’s also far too weak to be the UnHoly.

I scrutinize the rest of the group. He has to be here. I couldn’t have made a mistake.

I don’t make mistakes. Not ever.

A single spotlight focuses on the lean silhouette of the lead singer; a teenage boy who’s definitely more than human.

There you are.

He’s taller than I expected, wearing clothes that match my own—black jeans, a black sleeveless shirt open just enough to see his smooth pale skin, and black boots. His chiseled muscles and dye-job-black hair hanging in an unruly mess add to his allure. But it’s his eyes that draw my attention. Amber with flecks of gold.

Mesmerizing, dangerous, and…

Familiar. Too familiar.

I bite my lip, my mind racing. Aydan, the only apprentice to the Dark One. Feared by angel and demon alike. He’s rumored to stop at nothing to procure anything and everything his master wants. Judging by the way he hypnotizes the crowd of unsuspecting teens with his voice and eyes, I have no doubt that the rumors are well-earned. More than dangerous, Aydan is lethal.

And just my type.

I check out the club, looking for the best way to lure him outside. He’s managed to elude capture for more than four centuries. Clearly he knows how to avoid the likes of the Sentinals, the likes of me. But not tonight. Not with this body.

I focus my attention back on him as he finishes his song. There is no evidence of his true nature reflecting in his features; no fangs or claws to signal danger. No sulfur-scent or bloodlust. No proof of the evil that lurks just under the surface. Nothing except the black bat-like wings curving across his back, hidden from everyone.

Well, almost everyone. Not expecting me, are you?

His voice intoxicates the crowd. The hunger in his eyes reveals his true intent. Aydan is on the hunt.

Two can play at that game.

I notice a small door at the end of a corridor adjacent to the stage. No doubt it empties to the alley that flanks the church. Perfect. Now, to get him outside before he chooses one of the screaming girls as his prey.

Aydan finishes his song as I make my way around the stage and toward the hall. I watch as he turns away from the crowd.

Almost time.

The horde screams for him and begs the band to continue.

Aydan grabs the mic. “Do you want more?” he yells. Their response, a cacophony of “Yes!” and “We love you, Aydan!” rings through the rafters of the once-holy building.

I watch as he works the mob into a craze. Voices blend away. The scene shifts. All I see, all I hear, is Aydan. An unfamiliar current of electricity streaks through my body, causing my heart to beat wildly against my ribs. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stiffen with anticipation while anxiety fills my senses.

This can’t be happening.

I force my heart to slow and shove aside the silly human reactions.

The guitarist starts to strum a ballad. A light frames Aydan as he begins to sing in slow, rhythmic phrases. He scans the crowd, a predator looking for his prey.

Time stops and he turns to me. Our eyes lock. A smile pulls at his lips.

My skin erupts in gooseflesh. My legs begin to wobble. His smile broadens and for a brief moment I forget how to breathe.

Strange sensations inundate my thoughts. My abdomen clenches and my body trembles.

His stupid mind tricks are working. On me.

Not acceptable.

Chapter 2

Aydan

The crowd is wild tonight, hordes of kids desperate for a little action. The perfect hunting grounds. Maybe that’s why I stick with the band—the free food.

My senses pick up the distinct scent of vanilla and warm sugar. My favorite. I feel the craving start at the back of my throat. I have to find the source of that scent and drink from her soul.

Soon.

The lights drop as I sing a slow melody. The rhythms are smooth, seductive. I watch the girls drop their defenses and feel their desire rise.

Scanning the crowd, I search. My need grows as the seconds pass. Every girl strains to look at me and through their eyes I see their need, taste their lust. It floods my senses, nourishing me.

But the feeling is temporary, just enough to awaken the Beast within and force me to continue the hunt.

My eyes settle on a girl near the back of the crowd, sandwiched between the stage and a narrow hallway. She’s different from the usual patrons of the club. Beautiful—long blond hair, legs that seem to stretch forever, and curves that make me ache. But it isn’t her beauty calling to me, or her distinctive vanilla scent.

It’s the mystery.

Her desire fills me. Not only desire, something more. Something angry and dangerous. Something that awakens the core of my being.

I stare into her eyes and ride her emotions as they crest. I sing my lyrics only to her. Our worlds collide; nothing exists but the two of us.

She closes her eyes, obviously trying to break the spell I’ve cast. But I know it won’t work. No one can get away from me. I’ve had centuries of practice.

I continue to sing, weaving a trap around my target. She stares at me, an almost pained expression etched into her features.

You’re mine now.

A flood of emotions fills me, chaotic and wild, desperate. Her feelings, her passion. The taste is addictive and I know I can’t resist her. I don’t want to.

The song ends as my frenzy grows.

It’s time.

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The Masterpiecers Book Blitz!

Title: The Masterpiecers

Author: Olivia Wildenstein

Genre: YA/NA Mystery

Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Blurb:

Nineteen-year-old Ivy Redd’s talent with a needle and thread has earned her a spot on a coveted reality TV art competition set in New York’s Metropolitan Museum. The prize: a significant amount of money and instant acceptance into the Masterpiecers, the school that ensures new artists fame and fortune. Her talent has also thrust her and her twin sister, Aster, into the spotlight.

Not that Aster needed help with becoming a media favorite. She managed that on her own by running over a wanted mobster. She told the police it was self-defense, because she couldn’t tell them the truth—the truth would make her sister look bad.

Locked in an Indiana jail to await her trial, Aster watches Ivy on the small TV hanging in the dayroom. It’s the highlight of her day, until she finds out what her sister truly thinks of her. Then, observing her sister becomes a punishment far crueler than imprisonment.

Olivia Wildenstein grew up in New York City, the daughter of a French father with a great sense of humor, and a Swedish mother whom she speaks to at least three times a day. She chose Brown University to complete her undergraduate studies and earned a bachelor’s in comparative literature. After designing jewelry for a few years, Wildenstein traded in her tools for a laptop computer and a very comfortable chair. This line of work made more sense, considering her college degree.

When she’s not writing, she’s psychoanalyzing everyone she meets (Yes. Everyone), eavesdropping on conversations to gather material for her next book, baking up a storm (that she actually eats), going to the gym (because she eats), and attempting not to be late at her children’s school (like she is 4 out of 5 mornings, on good weeks).

Wildenstein lives with her husband and three children in Geneva, Switzerland, where she’s an active member of the writing community.

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"Our mother used to say that Ivy sucked all the good from the womb and I was left with the scraps. I hate to think she was right about anything, but my twin sister is exceptional.

“You’re going to do so well,” I tell Ivy, squeezing her hand.

“No touching,” barks the guard watching over us.

It’s just the two of us in the visitation room.

Ivy yanks her hand out of mine. “I don’t know about so well, but I’m going to do my best.” She links her fingers together in a business-like manner. “Has Josh come to see you yet?”

“No.”

“He told me he spoke to your warden about letting you watch the show. You have his permission to look at it whenever you want.”

I give her a weak smile. “That’ll be the highlight of my day.”

She runs her nail underneath the peeling, synthetic wood surface of the table.

“I’m happy you came to see me,” I say.

Her gaze sticks to the tabletop. It’s as though she doesn’t dare look up at me. I think she’s afraid to cry. “Was it really an accident, Aster?” Her voice is so faint that I have to strain to make out her words.

“Yes.”

“You promise me—”

“Yes,” I say. “Stop worrying about this. By the time you come home, it will be ancient history.”

She bites her lip.

“Now go make history,” I tell her."