Category: giveaway

Bad Soul Uncanny Ink Series Book 1 by David Bussell & M.V. Stott Genre: Urban Fantasy

Promises, rules, bones; Erin Banks will break them all. Unscrupulous and lethal, Erin has everything she needs to be an assassin in a world full of mobsters, monsters, and magic. She wasn’t born with powers, but thanks to her Uncanny Ink—arcane tattoos that transform her body into a magic-fuelled killing machine—she’s more than a match for anyone dumb enough to stand between her and getting paid. Fresh out of prison, Erin wastes no time getting back to what she does best: running down wanted men and claiming their bounties. But when a powerful demon lurking in a black cathedral hires her to round up an errant soul, the creature offers a reward far more valuable than money… He offers Erin the key to unlocking her tragic past. The key to the mystery surrounding her long-lost brother. Magic, scares, and acid-tongued snark collide in this thrilling urban fantasy series set in the Uncanny Kingdom. Buried secrets and whiplash twists will keep you riding the edge of your seat. Read Bad Soul now for a pulse-pounding tale you won’t be able to put down. Praise for Bad Soul: “Bussell and Stott deliver a dark and gripping read in Bad Soul, marking Uncanny Ink as a must-read series for urban fantasy fans.” ~ Readers’ Favorite “The writing is very colorful with lots of British slang and strange and seedy characters. The plot is fast and furious with unexpected developments and exciting scenes. A nice piece of gritty urban fantasy.” ~ Kasey’s Book Nook “Hits the ground running and doesn’t stop.” ~ Sean Cunningham, Author of the Hawthorn House series “Bussell and Stott deliver a dark and gripping read in Bad Soul, marking Uncanny Ink as a must read series for Urban Fantasy fans.” ~ Inspired Chaos “Smart, funny, irreverent with tons of action… [Bad Soul] has it all in spades.” ~ K. Bird Lincoln **On sale for only .99 cents April 1st – 13th!!**Goodreads * Amazon

Bad Blood: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (The Uncanny Ink Series Book 2) Goodreads * AmazonBad Justice: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (The Uncanny Ink Series Book 3)Goodreads * AmazonBad Intention: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (Uncanny Ink Book 4) Goodreads * AmazonBad Thoughts: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (The Uncanny Ink Series Book 5)Goodreads * AmazonBad Memories: An Uncanny Kingdom Urban Fantasy (The Uncanny Ink Series Book 6) Goodreads * AmazonSeries Trailer https://youtu.be/NzBhjtQ9VPI

About David David Bussell is a winner of the P.G. Wodehouse New Comic Writer Award. David is an avid fencer, and a committed comic book fan. Rumours that David was conceived on an Indian burial ground remain unfounded Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

About Matthew Matthew Stott writes strange stories. Influenced by the likes of seminal TV show ‘Doctor Who’, and writers Neil Gaiman and Stephen King, he crafts stories full of creep, wonder, and adventure. Matthew is not a murderer. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

As it turned out, the giant of a man—whose name was Gerald—didn’t want to stab me.
Which was a bit of a relief. I’d yet to have my tattoos reapplied, and I didn’t fancy my
chances against a bloke his size without them. By the looks of him, he could’ve gripped me
in a bear hug and squeezed my insides outside like the contents of a tube of toothpaste.
‘The Long Man is waiting for you,’ said Gerald.
The Long Man? That rang a bell. We hadn’t crossed paths before, but I’d heard all
sorts of whispers about things like him in the darkened corners of pubs at three in the
morning. About demons.
‘Okay. Where’s he at? Maybe we could do lunch.’
‘He is inside of me,’ he replied.
‘Ah. Oh. Christ.’
Demons tend to occupy little realms of their own, separate from the everyday world
but connected to it via hidden portals. Well, hidden unless you know where to look. It might
be a crack in reality at the bottom of an ancient well, or a hollow in a tree that leads to
another place. Or the door might be a living thing, in this case a really tall, wide man named
Gerald.

‘You’re sure he wouldn’t just like to do this over the phone?’ I asked as I followed
him across the pebble beach and into a small hut.
‘Face-to-face,’ said Gerald as he began to undress, carefully folding each item of
clothing and placing it aside as he did so.
Then came the horrible bit.
Well, the sight of Gerald stark bollock naked wasn’t exactly a delight, but what he
did next was grimmer still.
He took the knife he was holding, turned it upon himself, and jabbed it into his
throat. He didn’t flinch, didn’t scream, he barely even blinked. He dragged the knife down his
neck, down his chest and stomach, until he reached his groin. The whole time he cut away
at himself, not a drop of blood was spilt. Finally, when he was done, he kneeled down and
used his fingers to dig into the long gash he’d fashioned, then he began to peel himself open
until there was a gap large enough for me to crawl through.
‘You know, you’d go down a storm on Britain’s Got Talent,’ I said.
He didn’t laugh, which was fair enough. Crap joke.
‘The Long Man is waiting,’ he said.
‘Right. Just gonna crawl inside you now, Gerald. Nothing weird about that.’
I got down on my hands and knees and began to creep into the opening. I wasn’t
sure what I was expecting, exactly. Would I be fighting my way through organs? Apparently
not. Instead, it was like I was making my way through a gap in a fence, and I found myself
crawling across a carpet of brown, fallen leaves and twigs. I turned to see a gap in reality. A
hole through which I could still see the beach hut I was in just moments ago.
‘Okay. Right. Cool.’
I stood, brushed the clinging sticks and leaves from my jeans, and took in my
surroundings. They were, in a word, bleak. The colour scheme was shades of grey and
black, the surrounding landscape mostly barren rock. A light breeze toyed with loose stones
and twigs, stirring up the parched earth. It wasn’t the kind of place tourists go mad for, put it
that way.
There was a single building a little way in the distance, an ancient, crumbling
cathedral, made from large blocks of stone blacker than Hitler’s heart. Its spire was broken
in two, most of it laid out on the ground like a fallen tree. A twin pair of stained glass
windows looked down at me depicting jagged flames licking at the bodies of anguished
sinners. A wide-open set of wooden double doors formed the mouth of the building.
‘Time to stick my head into the lion’s gob,’ I said to myself, and walked towards the
entrance.

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Undeniable Always Book 3 by Lexxie Couper Genre: Contemporary Romance

It was all background noise, until he made her stop and listen. Chase is tough, snarky, witty and fiercely loyal to her family. She is also hearing impaired, which makes the world around her sound like white noise a lot of the time. But that’s okay, she can deal. It’s not like she’s actually deaf, and she’s learned to lip read…when it suits her. What she can’t deal with is guys like Caden, who think their looks and charm will win her over. They won’t because Chase has zero interest in pursuing a relationship with someone who’s leaving the country soon. What would be the point? Well, there is the fun they have together. The way Caden shows he cares about things greater than himself, like abandoned dogs. There’s his smile, his eyes and his wicked sense of humor. In fact, if Chase ever admitted it to herself, she might say Caden is just about perfect. But how could a perfect guy possibly ever want someone who isn’t? “The story is beautiful in its complex simplicity and so authentically real that you can’t help but immerse yourself into the lives of the characters on the pages.” ~Big Bec’s Book Blog Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Unforgettable Always Book 2

Sometimes being an optimist is hard work. Brendon Osmond’s an optimist, a fitness geek, a man with a plan and the drive to achieve it. He’s sure he knows everything there is to know about his life and where it’s headed— until he gets one brief text. A text from her. Amanda. The girl who broke his heart. ‘Thinking of you.’ Just three little words, but they’re enough to make Brendon drop everything and head half way around the world to see her. Acting only on gut instinct, nothing can prepare Brendon for the truth he’s about to learn. A truth Amanda kept from him for almost two years. A truth who has Brendon’s eyes and claims his heart in an instant. A truth that comes with a devastating diagnosis with the power to destroy everything he never knew he wanted or held dear. “A heartbreaking, emotional, heartwarming, phenomenal story.” ~ Five Stars. 1-Click Addict Support Group Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Unconditional Always Book 1

Life’s great — it’s the terminal degenerative disease that sucks. Maci is young, smart and about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. It looks like she has the world at her feet, but appearances can be deceiving. Because Maci is not like other college girls. She already knows her future is written and there’s no happy ending in sight. For Raphael, life is all upside. He’s on the fast track to success and nothing can stop him—except his unexpected love for a girl who’s convinced she’ll hold him back. When Maci and Raphael are drawn irresistibly together, they’ll both have to redefine everything they thought they knew about life, love and happy ever after. “One of the BEST New Adult Coming of Age romance books I’ve read… funny, heartwarming and sexy”~ Five Stars, Slick Reads ***The Always series is a 3-book series about love, life, laughter and hope. Originally released under the pen-name Cherie M Hudson, the Always series is Lexxie Couper unlike you’ve read before.*** Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

International bestselling romance author Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire…Sometimes all at once. Website * Facebook * Facebook Author * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Searching frantically for the restroom sign, I spied what I thought was the ladies’ room
and ran for it, head down, fist gripping the strap of my bag as if it were a lifeline to bladder
relief.
So of course, when I slammed into something rock-solid but warm and firm as well, the
first thing I thought was I was going to pee myself. Not, argh, I’ve just run into someone and
I need to apologize.
I stumbled back a step, flinging the poor woman in my way a harried glance. And froze
when that harried glance found not a poor woman, but a tall, broad-shouldered, stunningly
hot—no, change that—stupefyingly hot, gorgeous guy with shaggy dark-brown hair hanging
over equally dark-brown eyes so intense and beautiful and sexy and—
He wrapped strong fingers around my upper arms and steadied me before I could fall
completely on my ass.
“Hey, I think you’re heading into the wrong loo.”
I gazed up at him and didn’t say a word. I’d’ve liked to have blamed sleep deprivation
and jet lag for my ridiculous silence, but they weren’t the culprits.
The guy holding my arms, keeping me upright, was stunning. Gorgeous. Hot. Like a
brown-haired, brown-eyed version of Chris Hemsworth. Only sexier.
I didn’t think that was even possible, but there you go. Tall, with a crooked grin that
made my heart skip a beat and a goddamn divine body, all muscular and sculpted and
perfectly proportioned with the broadest of shoulders, all wrapped up tight in a snug white T-
shirt and snugger faded jeans.
And he had an Australian accent.
Oh boy.
I gaped at him, my heart thumping in my throat.
“Can you speak?” he asked.
I caught my bottom lip with my teeth and shook my head.
His eyebrows shot up. “You can’t?”
“I can,” I blurted, nodding this time. Talk about being a mess of contradictions. “I’m
just …” I paused, stopping myself from telling him I was falling in lust with him. Yeah, not
exactly cool behavior. Gushing all over a complete stranger on the way to the bathroom?
Welcome to Australia.
“I’m just … desperate,” I finished, ducking my head. I sounded like an idiot.

He gave a warm, friendly laugh. “To go to the loo?”
I peered up at him through my bangs. “Yeah.”
That crooked grin returned to his face. As before, it made my body do things I wasn’t
entirely used to.
“You better go then.” He stepped aside and held an arm out, directing me deeper into
the men’s restroom.
Oh my God, was I blushing? I shuffled my feet, frowning.
Devilment danced in his dark-brown eyes. “Something else you’re desperate for?”
Something else? Was he serious? A guy that looked like him, asking me what I
wanted? If I were the brave, take-no-prisoners kind of girl, I’d tell him straight up. Something
else I’m desperate for? Hell yeah, a kiss from you would be a start. But I wasn’t that kind of
girl. I was a sleep deprived, jet lagged student with poor social skills and a disease that wasn’t
exactly high on the sexy list. Of course, I wasn’t going to ask him for a kiss.
No matter how much the thought made my tummy flutter.
He studied me with a playful grin. “Going to tell me what it is?”
“A kiss.” The word fell past my lips before I could stop it.
My face went cold as the blood drained from it. And then hot as all that blood rushed
back into my cheeks just as fast. Holy shit, had I really said that aloud?
“A kiss?” he repeated, lifting an eyebrow.
Oh God, I had said it aloud. I stared at him, once again dumbstruck. What was I doing?
Was I really that tired? Had to be. Why else would I say something so … so …
embarrassing? I couldn’t be flirting with him. I wasn’t any good at it. I was an
environmentalist dork with Parkinson’s. As if I knew how to flirt.
Was I delusional? Was my brain finally betraying me compl—
Warm lips brushed over mine in a lingering caress of skin on skin. I would have melted
on the spot … if it wasn’t for the fact I yelped in shocked disbelief and stumbled back a step.
Mr. Broad Shoulders laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”
Just to make it clear before I continue, I’m not a virgin. I lost my virginity four nights
after my sixteenth birthday, to my high school boyfriend—the quarterback, no less. How’s
that for both an achievement and a cliché? But since I found out I have Parkinson’s, I’ve
pretty much shut down any and all notion of romance. Who wants to get romantic with
someone who’s going to be a shaky mess in a few years? I can’t imagine there are many guys
out there willing to roll with that kind of burden, so I stopped putting myself out there. Which

might explain my very active fantasy obsession with a married Australian actor, now that I
think about it. Hmmm. Desire the impossible to substitute the denied. Makes sense, right?
I gaped up at my mysterious kisser—again. Heart beating way too fast, I pressed my
fingers to my lips. “Why did you do that?”
“You asked.” His grin turned wickedly playful, hinting at a dimple in his right cheek, and he
leaned a little closer to me, his brown eyes holding mine. “And you looked so damn sexy
with your mussed-up hair and coffee-stained shirt.”

$40 Amazon gift card plus a little Aussie treat I’ll post to the winner from Down Under Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway

Skyclyffe by Z. Moss Genre: Middle Grade Science Fiction

Rex Bright enjoys drawing in notebooks and dreaming. He’s thirteen, and his life is ordinary. Until he sees a face in a cloud which changes everything. Rex glimpses the girl from an airplane window while travelling to his aunt and uncle’s farm for the summer. Her features are so perfect, Rex can’t believe she’s only vapor. But Cloud Girl is real. A week later, Skyclyffe, a mysterious airship cloaked in a cumulus, abducts Rex and his family. The captors expect the Brights to live in their flying city forever. And, although he’s kidnapped, Rex loves the craft filled with robots, scientific discoveries, and silvery-white beings. Before long, Rex will be forced to decide whether to escape, or if Skyclyffe and its secret wonders are worth never stepping foot on Earth again. **On sale for only .99 cents for a limited time! **Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Z. Moss lives in Stillwater, Minnesota and is currently working on the sequel to Skyclyffe. Two dogs, three cats, and two turtles run the household, including the real-life Radar. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

A cloud rose from below with a girl on it. Not a whole girl … just a tiny face peering up from otherwise
vague fluff.
Rex dismissed the vapory vision for a trick at first, his thirteen-year-old brain making up junk. But the
elements were there—two eyes, a nose, and a mouth—embedded in the top of a fast-moving cumulus.
The pale features stared in his direction while her white hair drifted around as though floating in a pool of
water.
He mashed his forehead against the airplane window to gain a better view. This wasn’t like any picture in
a cloud he’d seen before, the usual cartoon snails morphing into whales as they skimmed across the upper
atmosphere. This was boring brume except for a strange bit in the middle. The fog pimple mesmerized
him. If he could reach her, Rex believed he’d touch milky skin and billowy strands.
After a few seconds, instead of scudding away, the celestial being grew larger, sailing right for him. The
foremost fringe of the approaching haze met the wing’s metal edge, and the face turned, her gaze locking
with his own.
She looked at him.
Was he dreaming? Had he lost his marbles? Rex marveled out the porthole, certain the noxious fumes
from Stinky Feet, the shoeless guy seated in front of him, had damaged his optical nerve. He grabbed his
mom’s sleeve to say, “There’s a girl in the clouds!” but found her asleep, her dark brown hair covering
one temple and spittle gilding her chin.
His mom had to see this. If he told her about it later, she’d assume he was punking her again like when he
said he had seen a mountain lion in the backyard. But she’d been awake all night packing their suitcases
and mumbling to herself. This on top of how tired she seemed nowadays.
My camera.
Rex recovered it from behind the book he had brought and an in-flight magazine in the seat pocket then
swung back. But Cloud Girl was gone. A regular, innocent-looking cloud sat in her place.

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Ordinary Ordinary Series Book 1 by Starr Z. Davies Genre: YA Sci-Fi Dystopian

Fans of Powerless, The Testing, Hunger Games and the Maze Runner will crave this world of iniquitous secrets, intrigue, and desire to find a place in society. Divinic. Somatic. Psionic. Naturalist. Who will you be? Having a superpower is ordinary. Your Power determines your job, social class, and future success. But Ugene doesn’t have a Power. The only thing special about him is that he isn’t special at all. Ugene is Powerless. So when the most prominent biomedical research company in the city offers Ugene a solution, he jumps at the possibility to be ordinary. All he has to do is agree to allow them to use him in their research. But the longer he stays at the research facility, the more he realizes something isn’t right. Friendships are forged. Trust is broken built and broken. And everything Ugene thought he understood and believed is called into question. Who can Ugene trust in his search for answers? What is he willing to sacrifice for Powers? Goodreads * Amazon

STARR Z. DAVIES is a Midwesterner at heart, and lives in Wisconsin with her husband and kids. From a young age, Starr has been obsessed with superheroes like Batman and Captain America, which inspired her novel, ORDINARY. If Starr had a superpower, she would be an Empath, because she is an emotional sponge and easily relates to how others feel. While pursuing a degree in Creative Writing from the University of Wisconsin, Starr gained a reputation as the “Character Assassin” because she has a habit of utterly destroying her characters both emotionally and physically. In her free time, Starr loves watching Doctor Who or anything with superheroes, reading books (duh!), writing about her favorite fantasy stories (Song of Ice and Fire, Mistborn, The Wheel of Time), and staring out the window as she dreams up more stories. Oh, and sometimes she steps out the door. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Three days define who a person will be for the rest of their life. The day they are born. Testing Day,
where their abilities are determined. And, of course, Career Day, where social status, wealth, and future
prospects are decided for them by an exhibition hall of employers.
I passed my birth with great pains. According to stories Mom told me, my labor gave her particular
difficulty. After arriving too soon, too weak to survive on my own, I lived in an incubator for the first six
weeks of my life in a struggle to survive. It’s why she sometimes—annoyingly—calls me, “tough guy.”
Up until Testing Day, everyone—from my teachers to my neighbors—called me a late bloomer and
constantly reassured my parents that eventually I would fall into one of the Four Branches of Powers.
They said it as if doing so was something I would just stumble over on the sidewalk one day and say, “Oh
look, there’s my Power!”
Testing Day came early in my ninth year of schooling, alongside everyone else in my class. Those who
had already developed their ability were divided into groups based on their Branch of Power: Somatic for
Powers relating to the body; Naturalist for those with organic Powers; Psionic for the Power of the mind;
and Divinic for those with Powers outside our world. Mostly, this division left me and three other kids—
Mo, Dave, and Leo—uncategorized. By the end of the day, only I remained unclassified. Testing Day was
a bitter disappointment for everyone in my family— including me.
Ordinary people have Powers and prospects. I have neither.
Now I face Career Day, where I get to parade around a convention center with all the other doeeyed,
eleventh-year students and try to convince businesses why my Power is worth employment. Except I still
don’t have one, and probably never will.
I’ve dreaded this day for years. Now, there’s no escaping it.
Miraculously, my parents haven’t given up on me. They still hold on to the hope that everything is about
to change.
For all our sakes, I hope they are right.

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Chergui’s Child by Jane Riddell Genre: Women’s Psychological Fiction

Olivia has much to cope with. An embittered mother who puts her ambitions for her children before their own needs. A predatory professor who ends their affair when she becomes pregnant. Giving birth to twins in a Tangier hospital and believing neither has survived. Grief and loss overwhelm her and she abandons her studies. Then from her beloved aunt Dorothy, artistic, eccentric and mysteriously wealthy, she learns that one of the babies did survive and has been adopted. When her aunt dies she leaves Olivia a handsome legacy with the condition that it must be used to find and bring up the lost child. Olivia’s journey takes her from London to the south of France, with startling and painful revelations along the way. Goodreads * Amazon

Jane Riddell grew up in Glasgow but defected to Edinburgh in her thirties, after living in New Zealand. For years she worked for the NHS as a dietitian and health promoter. In 2006 she impulsively moved to France, and during her three years there writing became a passion. Jane writes realistic contemporary novels and has also written an editing guide. Shortly she will be publishing a novella about a Russian cat who aspires to become a writer but struggles with literary theory. Jane has an editing business: Choice Words Editing, details of which can be found on her author’s website: www.quietfiction.com. She holds a Masters in Creative Writing. Jane summarises herself as: enthusiastic, well-intentioned, hopeless with technology and having a dysfunctional relationship with time and chocolate. She loves photography, travelling and pet sitting Website * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

I stared at the University L’Archet hospital in Nice, wondering if this visit would
propel me forward in my search for Richie. Surrounding me was the hum of
lunchtime traffic, employees returning home for their protracted midday break. Palm
trees in the hospital gardens were motionless beneath the pale blue sky
characteristic of a heatwave, and already my head ached from petrol fumes, not
helped by eyes strained from googling for radiologists in universities and cabinets.
As I walked along the ground floor corridor, the reflection from polished vinyl made
me dizzy, and the floor cleaner smelled particularly strong. It was half past twelve –
perhaps food would help. I located the dining room, joined a long queue and
eventually took my tray to the one free table.
Moments later, two women in lab coats appeared.
‘Est-ce qu’elles sont libres, are these places free?’ one of them asked, pointing to
the empty chairs.
When I finished my meal, I produced the photos. ‘I’m trying to find this man. He’s a
doctor. He may not have a moustache, he might have a beard.’
After viewing Richie’s picture, the women shook their heads.
‘We have been at the hospital only since two months,’ the taller one explained. ‘If
you wish, we will ask our friends.’
In the coffee lounge, people huddled round the photo, shaking their heads –
except for one woman, who studied it closely. ‘I think I am seeing this man before.’
My heart thumped. ‘In the hospital?’
‘It was long time. When I am beginning my studies. Wait, please.’
She made her way to the window and showed the photo to a man. He came over
to me.
‘Salut. I have seen this man before. He give us a conference.’
‘A lecture,’ the woman said.

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