Kill For You A Warrior For Her #2 by Ayden K. Morgen Genre: Romantic Suspense

The last thing Detective Octavio Hernandez expects to find at the scene of a mass gang-related shooting is a brown-eyed angel standing bravely in the midst of the chaos. One look at Faith Donovan and the homicide detective knows there’s more to her than meets the eye. She’s keeping secrets that just might help bring down Los Zetas, one of the biggest drug cartels in Los Angeles. He just has to convince her that trusting him is worth the risk. Forced upon a mother who didn’t want her and enslaved by a gang that refuses to let her go without a fight, Faith’s life has never been her own. She thought she’d made peace with her fate…until Octavio sweeps in and carries her out of her blood-soaked cage. Faith trusts no one, but the hardened detective makes it difficult to remember why. The way he cares for her makes her ache for what she never thought she’d find: love and a family of her own. But trusting him when she knows he has an ulterior motive is one of the most difficult things she’ll ever do. He swore to give her the freedom she craves, but when the secrets she holds paint a target on her back, keeping that promise will prove no easy feat. To secure her freedom and win her heart, this detective will move mountains. And take down anyone standing in his way. Kill for You is the second book in a series of interconnected full-length novels featuring law enforcement officers willing to do whatever it takes to protect the women who need them most. Each book can be read as a standalone, has no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read On March 17th, 100% of author proceeds from Kill for You will be donated to Operation Underground Railroad to aid in the rescue of child victims of human trafficking. Post release day, 10% of proceeds will continue to go to Operation Underground Railroad. To date, Operation Underground Railroad has rescued over 3,200 children from slavery and has helped prosecute over 1,800 human traffickers. Learn more about O.U.R. and pledge your support here.

Fight For You A Warrior For Her #1

Some things are worth fighting for. Some people are worth dying for. For me, January James is both. Too bad she hates me. Ten years ago, I destroyed her life and lost everything that mattered to me. I’ve been in hell since, desperately trying to forget her even though I’ve never been able to do it. She still haunts me. Now a dangerous enemy from my past has it out for her. He isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants. I know I should stay away before I hurt her all over again, but I can’t do it. It’s time to stop running and start fighting for her. My name is Michael Kincaid, and this is my swan song. When it’s over, I’ll either be the monster at the end of this book…or I’ll be the man January deserves. Fight for You is an angsty and emotional brother’s best friend, second chance romance. It is the first book in a series of interconnected full-length standalone novels featuring alpha male cops willing to do whatever it takes to protect the women who need them most. Each book has no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA. **Only .99cents 3/15 to 3/31 on Amazon!** Goodreads * Amazon

Ayden K. Morgen is the Amazon Bestselling author of the Ragnarök Prophesies series. She lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood sweetheart/husband of fifteen years, and their furry minions. When not writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering, causing mischief, and building a Spork army. She graduated summa cum laude with her Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on to complete her graduate degree in CJ and Law. She puts her education to use as a 911 Dispatch Supervisor, where she’s responsible for leading a team of dispatchers as they watch over police, EMS, and firefighters for her county. Her books feature law enforcement officers, the women who love them, and the difficult cases that drive them. She also writes New Adult Fantasy as A.K. Morgen. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * AllAuthor * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” Cade says.

I cry out, alarmed as he pops up on the other side of the porch railing. I never even heard him
coming. My hand flies to my chest, trying to calm the way my pulse pounds with fear.

“You scared me,” I mutter and then I get a good glimpse at him.

He looks like shit. Even with all those tattoos and that hardness—the dangerous vibe that
radiates from him despite the fact that he’s standing completely still—he’s too handsome for
words. But his eyes are troubled and rimmed with dark shadows. His jaw is scruffy where he
hasn’t shaved. His hair is a mess and his jeans and black t-shirt are wrinkled. The gauges in his
ears and the piercing in his nose make him look dangerous in a way I find far too appealing. The
bandage on his arm is gone, revealing a cut about four inches long. There are still a couple of
stitches holding the edges of his puffy skin together.

“I’m not the monster in the dark you should be afraid of, ba–January,” he says, crossing his

tattooed arms over his broad chest. His gaze roves across my face, but he never meets my
eyes. Even then, I feel exposed in a way I never have before, vulnerable…like he can see all
the ugly scars and jagged wounds inside me.

“I’m not afraid of Kaleo,” I tell him, pulling my legs up into the chair and wrapping my arms
around my knees as if that will keep him from seeing the painful, ugly things inside that still hurt.

“You should be.” He climbs up the steps, his footfalls heavy on the old wood. His boots and the
bottoms of his jeans are splattered with mud. He stops at the top and props his shoulder up on
the post, still watching me. “He’s after the park. He won’t stop until he gets it or someone stops
him.”

“He can’t have it. It’s mine.”

Cade eyes me for a minute and then sighs.

“I didn’t think you were still here,” I say when he doesn’t speak. “Your car is gone.”

“I left it with a friend,” he says.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence stretches between us. I hate it. Things have never been awkward or tense
between us before. They weren’t always easy, but they were always natural. Being with him was
like breathing. It was effortless. I didn’t have to think about it or worry about it. He never made
me feel out of place or like I didn’t fit. He made me feel like I mattered. Like I had a place and a
purpose.

My entire life, I felt like an outsider. I’ve always been significantly smaller than my peers and a
little bit timid because of it. Standing up for myself isn’t something I’ve ever been particularly
good at doing. Mean girls like Mandy Wright went out of their way to make me feel like I wasn’t
good enough. She hated that Cade didn’t want her and made my life miserable because of it.
But Cade always took care of me and made sure I wasn’t excluded. People accepted me
because of him and Titan. All these years later, people still accept me because of them.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I whisper, my heart pounding. Now that the moment’s here, I’m not
even sure where to begin unburdening myself. There’s so much between us…so much I never
got to tell him. So many things I’ve regretted for a long damn time.

“There is no other woman,” he says. He fidgets, rocking on his heels and then running a hand
through his hair. He looks out into the yard and then down at his feet. “Little Mama is like a
sister to me. Her husband, Tristan, is probably the only real friend I’ve had since…well, in a long
time. I had to come back. The guy who took her wanted to do some seriously fucked up shit.

Letting that happen wasn’t an option.”

“Oh.” I swallow and then lick my lips, feeling guilty for being jealous. It’s such a petty, destructive
emotion, one I promised myself I would never give into. But I did yesterday. When I imagined
him racing back here to rescue another woman, I was jealous as hell. That shames me. “Is…is
she okay?”

“Not really, but she will be. She’s got Tristan. He’ll make sure she’s straight.”

“That’s good then.”

We drift off, both peering everywhere but at each other. I stare out into the yard. The flowerbeds
will need to be weeded soon. Dandelions keep popping up all over the place.

“Are you staying for long?” I ask to fill the silence and then peek up at him.

He’s watching me this time, a furrow between his brows.

“Didn’t plan on it, but who knows?” He shrugs, that furrow growing deeper. His face is so much
more severe than it used to be. There’s a darkness there, a wildness that I only ever saw once
—the day he got into a fight with Cody Love in the park because Cody was talking shit about
me. There was murder in his eyes that day, and I see it there again now.

He’s not the same boy he used to be. He’s all man now, with ten years’ worth of history I know
nothing about. It weighs heavily on him. The haunted weariness in his eyes leaves me with the
distinct impression that he carries the weight of the whole world on his broad shoulders and has
for a long time.

“I never hated you,” I whisper to him, my heart hurting at the evidence that life hasn’t been easy
for him. It kills me a little to know I put some of that weight there. That he carries it because of
me…because I was a selfish little girl who lashed out just so I didn’t have to hurt alone. “I was
hurt and angry, and I wanted you to hurt too. But I never hated you, Cade. I never wanted you to
leave.”

“You should have hated me,” he whispers back, his expression so solemn and serious it sends
tears slipping down my cheeks. “You should still hate me. I took everything from you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I argue, shaking my head. “I never blamed you. You shouldn’t blame
yourself either.”

He gives me a sad smile. “You always saw more in me than was there. I never deserved you.”
The self-loathing in his voice breaks me.

“You’re wrong. I was the one who didn’t deserve you.” I dash away the tears blurring my vision
and give him a watery smile. “You were always larger than life to me, my own personal hero.
And now look at you. You’re an honest to God hero.”

Cade chuckles, the deep sound hitting me low in my stomach. Heat floods through me in a
warm rush.

“I’m no one’s hero, sweetheart.”

“I bet your friend’s girl would tell you different,” I argue, though I’m not sure why. Clearly, he
doesn’t see himself the way I always have. Back then, I never would have envisioned him as a
cop, but it fits him. He was born to save lives and take down criminals. I’m proud of him.

“T saved his girl, January. I was just there to keep him from destroying himself to do it.” His
expression twists and he holds his hands up, palms facing me. He hits me with a look of such
intense self-hatred it pins me to my chair and steals my breath. “I’m not the hero of this story or
any other. I’ve got so much blood on my hands I’ll never wash clean.”

I flinch, taken aback by how easily those words roll off his tongue. The powerful emotion in his
eyes reflects in his voice, running so deep it’s overwhelming.

“You should get out of here for a few days,” he says, pushing away from the post. “Kaleo isn’t
fucking around. He wants the park and you’re only going to get yourself hurt trying to fight him
on it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Cade.”

“Why not?” he asks, clearly exasperated with me. He throws his hands up again, flinging his
arms wide this time. “Open your eyes, baby girl. This place is falling the fuck apart. It was a
shithole when we were growing up and it’s a shithole now. The only thing here worth saving is
you.”

Anger courses through me at his words. I jump to my feet and glare at him. “It may be a
shithole, but it matters to me. I’m not going to run and hide while Kaleo strolls in and takes it
from me. Everything else I love is gone. He doesn’t get to take what’s left. I won’t let him.”

“Dammit, January,” he groans and I can’t tell if he’s pissed at me for refusing or if he’s just
annoyed at being back here in general. It doesn’t matter either way. Once upon a time, I would
have given him anything he asked for, no questions asked. But that was then and this is now.
He might not be willing to fight for this block any longer, but I am. It’s the only thing I have left to
fight for.

“Maybe you can turn your back on your home,” I growl at him, desperately wanting to stomp my
foot and throw a tantrum like I did when I was little. “But I can’t. I won’t. I will fight to keep that
bastard off this block until I can’t fight anymore.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Then at least I’ll die having stood for something.”

Sometimes, I think maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad. How fucked up is that? I’m so miserable I
think dying would be a relief. That’s not normal. It’s not healthy. But sometimes I think it anyway.

“Goddammit,” he swears. “I don’t have time for this shit right now.”

That hurts. I flinch before I can stop myself. “I never asked you to stay,” I snap, slamming my
hands down on my hips to scowl at him. “Go back to Seattle, Cade. I don’t need your help.”

He grabs me before I can storm inside the house. Sparks of electric fire dance up my arm,
shooting off in all directions from where his fingers wrap around my upper arm. He’s so much
bigger than me…his fingers touch easily. His steely blue-gray eyes meet mine, so dark gray
they’re almost black. His nostrils flare as his expression turns feral, predatory…hungry.

The stark need shining in his eyes has me licking my lips. My nipples harden, my traitorous
body blooming for him.

A guttural groan breaks from his lips and then, somehow, he has me pinned to the front door
with my hands in his hair and my legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck,” he curses, then his lips are on mine. He kisses me like a man possessed. There’s
nothing sweet or gentle about the way he takes my mouth. It’s possessive, predatory, and so
damn right.

This is what’s been missing for the last decade. Him and the intense feelings he sends hurtling
through me like a comet. With his lips on mine, I feel alive, like I’m finally, finally living instead of
just going through the motions.

His body is hard everywhere. He grinds me down on the obvious bulge in his jeans as he
attacks my mouth, claiming it like he owns it…owns me. I cry out against his lips, pleasure
hitting me hard and fast. My fingers dance through his hair, tugging and pulling.

An inferno rages between us. Years of overwhelming need tears me apart as he kisses me so
hard I know I’ll remember the feel of his lips on mine for the rest of my life. This kiss is like none
he’s ever given me before. It’s powerful, potent…and perfect.

I can’t give this up. With his lips on mine, I know I’ll never be over him. I’ll never be ready to
move on. And I don’t want to be.

“Cade,” I whisper, wiggling in his arms, desperate for friction where I need it most. Desperate for
him. He’s the only man who has ever touched me. I ache for him. God, I ache so badly. “Cade,
please. I need you so much.”

His body goes taut at my desperate confession. His hands tighten on my ass for a split second
and then he pulls away. I cry out, hating the way it feels when his big body no longer pins me to
the door. When his lips break from mine. When he’s no longer in my personal space,
possessing it.
He slides me down his body until my feet touch the worn wood, then he releases me entirely.

He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like he just ran five miles. His eyes meet mine,
his expression so severe that it steals my breath all over again. He’s definitely all man now,
grown up and so powerful. It’s honestly a little breathtaking to see him like this. With his hair all
messed up, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes on fire, he’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my
life.

“Go inside, January,” he rumbles when I lick my lips, savoring the taste of him on them.

“Cade, I–”

“Now!” he barks.

I jump at the loud crack of sound. Tears fill my eyes, rejection burning through me hot and fast.

His thunderous expression softens. He reaches out and tugs gently on a strand of my hair,
exactly like he always did when we were kids and he wanted to comfort me. The corner of his lip
turns up in a sardonic half smile. “I’m the last thing you need. I’ll just fuck up your life all over
again,” he whispers and then he turns and jogs down the steps.

“You were the only thing I ever needed,” I whisper to his back.

He hesitates for a split second, pausing mid-step, then he shakes his head. “Maybe one day I’ll
be the kind of man you deserve, but I’m not him now, January. I’m still the monster at the end of
this book. I always have been.”

“You’re wrong.”

His heavy sigh speaks volumes, and each one of them shatters another little piece of my heart.

“Every goddamn day without you was wrong, baby girl,” he whispers, his voice rough with pain.
“That doesn’t make this right. I already destroyed you once. I won’t do it again now.”

$10 Amazon giftcard $5 Amazon giftcard 3 Warrior Series swag packs 2 copies of the complete Teplo Trilogy Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway

In Pursuit of the Pale Prince An Arestus Adventure by Mark Wallace Maguire Genre: YA Fantasy

Over 5,000 years ago, in the place you call Northern Europe, a battle was looming. The Southwen were marching north in search of land. The Northern Kingdoms were fragile and scattered and The Pale Prince was trying to unite them, seeking any symbol of hope, of past glory to rally his people. Hundreds of miles away, a man dies and leaves a crown to his son. A crown that can unite the Northern Kingdoms. But can the boy deliver it in time? Join him and find out. A new adventure awaits inside. Goodreads * Amazon

Mark Wallace Maguire is a Kindle best-selling author of several books, including the highly-praised Alexandria Rising Chronicles. He is a 2017 Independent Author of the Year Finalist and a 2017 Georgia Author of The Year nominee. He is also an award-winning journalist whose work has appeared in dozens of magazines and newspapers at home and abroad. He’s been honored by several organizations, including The Associated Press, Georgia Sportswriter’s Association, Georgia Poetry Society, Georgia Sportswriter’s Association and Society of Professional Journalists. In 2005, he was named Berry College Outstanding Young Alumni of The Year. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

A rustling of leaves woke me. My back was stiff. My right hand had fallen asleep
and the pin pricks of needles shot up it as I pushed my body upwards. The moon
wasn’t high yet in the sky, but it was waning strong and cast strong silvery light
and pushed heavy shadows onto the ground around me. I strained to peer through
the splotches of darkness and moonlight for any movement. A shifting shadow.
The sparkle of a sword in the half light. Nothing.
Then again. Footsteps crunching on leaves. I froze. Deftly slid my hand onto the
cool hilt of Coal Biter. Did not unsheathe it. Did not want to risk the ring of the
sword leaving the sheath. The noise. What was it? Was it Cirin? An animal?
“Boy,” a low voice, grating and guttural, like the growl of a husky. “Boy. I see you.
Take your hand off your sword. I have two men with me with their arrows trained
on you.”
I did not move.

The voice came from somewhere in front of me. I squinted. Could see nothing but
the play of light and shadow. A thud of footsteps and a face appeared in a slant of
moonlight. He was a squat man. Thick in chest and belly. Stout legs. I could not
tell if he wore a hat in the darkness, but did see the silhouette of a long beard. He
kept walking toward me and into the full light of the clearing. A set of narrow eyes
bordered a broad nose, and in his right hand he carried a short sword.

“Boy, I said to take your hand off the sword,” this time there was a more distinct
tone to his voice, as if he was addressing a dog. He expected me to do what he
commanded. I still did not move. “You must be thinking of your friend. He is not
here. He went to the pond over the hill. I guess he misses the water. The fool. We
watched him. I think he was going for a swim. He won’t be back for a long time.
Now, you can either lift your hand away from your sword and stand up and he will
find a nice young pup when he returns or you can keep your hand on that sword
and he will find a nice dead pup when he returns.”

As he spoke, I saw two other forms move out of the shadows behind him and into
the light of the clearing.
“This is your last chance boy, I -”
A whoosh sliced through the air like the sound of an arrow unleashed from a bow
and I heard a thunk near where the two men stood.
“By the gods, what was that?” a voice exclaimed. Then two, three, four thunks.
The men covered their heads and yelped in pain. Another whish and the sound of a
bone cracking. A yelp of pain. Another cry of surprise. And then they went
running. Back into the wood toward the road. Into the night.
“Leave the boy. You have no business here,” it was Cirin’s voice that came from
the darkness. “I only drove your two fools off with rocks, but if you don’t leave
now, your injuries will be much worse.”
He emerged from behind me. His grey tunic shimmering silver in the moonlight.
His eyes bright. His staff leveled in front of him. The man who was approaching
me gave a low ugly cackle like spent wood in an old fire.
“It is you. The sailor returns. I thought you only lived in the waters and islands
now if you lived at all. This if quite the tale, if -”
“Enough,” Cirin said. “Who are you and what is your business with two simple
travelers?”

“My name is my own. My business is with the boy.”

“Well, then, ‘my name is my own,’ it is time for you to leave,” Cirin said and then
in a fluid motion, leapt toward the man, raising his staff before bringing it down
upon the man’s hand. The man cried in pain and jerked his hand dropping the
sword onto the ground. Cirin pointed the staff at the man, rested it against the
man’s heart.
“Listen, ‘My name is my own’, while my patience is still firm. Take off your
boots.”
“My boots? But, I -”

Cirin pushed the staff ever-so-slightly against the man’s chest. “Yes, yes, yes,” the
man said and awkwardly began lifting one
leg, then the other and leaving his boots by his feet.

“Good,” Cirin said. “Now, when you return to your master, tell him there is
nothing here. We are on a holy pilgrimage to the Jagyard Mountains. We have no
relics or magic or silver. Nothing. So, let us be. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Good, then,” and Cirin threw the staff onto the man’s foot. A crack split the night
and the man yelped.
“One final thing,” Cirin continued. “Do not go back the way you came. I have two
friends waiting there who are not nearly as kind as I, and they have orders to kill
anything they see. Do you understand?”
“Ah, yes,” the man grimaced through his pain. “Then begone. And pray you never
see me again.”

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