![]() What has the power to make you want to survive? Discover in THANOS, releasing January 26th from Ella Frank!Series: Masters Among Monsters #3 Publication Date: January 26th, 2017 Genre: Paranormal RomanceSynopsis:CHARMED FOR LIFE? Thanos Agapiou has always been a charmer. For over two millennia, the vampire had no problem acquiring whom and what he wanted with a flash of his handsome smile. He took for granted the boyish good looks he presumed he’d possess for the rest of eternity. How very wrong he was. A nearly fatal attack distorted his entire existence. With his appearance now matching the title many have bestowed their kind—monster—he hides away from the world and all of those who know him, including his Ancient, Eton. Until one night when a stranger draws him out from the shadows. OR CURSED FOR ETERNITY? Ever since Paris Antoniou was thrust into a world of vampires, his reality has become stranger than the history and the myths he’s studied for the past decade. When he learns the truth about his origins and the power he wields, his confusion and fear have him running for his life. What he doesn’t expect is to run into the arms of Thanos—a vampire who doesn’t intimidate him as much as he intrigues him. WHAT HAS THE POWER TO MAKE YOU WANT TO SURVIVE? As their worlds collide under extraordinary circumstances, an attraction neither can deny takes hold. But will that be enough to save Thanos from his demons, or will he condemn Paris to his fate? Destinies have been changed. Lines have been crossed. And, with tales of the vampire race coming to an end, who will make the ultimate sacrifice? After all, in a world run by vampires and gods, only one can be the true Master among the Monsters. ExcerptAnd The Blood Shall Run… LONG AGO, THE Ancients of the vampire race searched for, and created, the one they wished to walk alongside for all eternity—their first-sired. They shared with them their blood, knowledge, and power. Thus creating a complex relationship where the first-sired’s existence integrated and tangled with the very being who made them, solidifying them as one. Only three such connections exist within the vampiric hierarchy. One born out of lust. One born out of loneliness. And the final born out of need. As Eton, Ancient of Thanos Agapiou, walked away from where his progeny had sequestered himself with another, the steel-like binding of calm that his first-sired’s presence had once afforded unraveled and snapped like a chain severed. His permanent absence was now the only thing he had left to offer his Thanos to counter his ultimate betrayal. And he knew by giving it exactly what fate he had just sealed for himself. After all this time, and Thanos’s strict control throughout the centuries, Eton had almost forgotten the allure of that which now stirred to life inside of him. But as the desperate, soul-searing need for destruction clawed for freedom, he recalled the reason for the desperate measures he’d taken the last time this transformation had occurred. Because without Thanos by his side, the infection that afflicted him threatened the very existence of his kind. It was bound to happen. Just as it had once before. Tonight had been the final cut, but the distance, the separation, that had begun nights before when Thanos had demanded his absence… “STAY WHERE YOU are. Do not come any closer.” “Thanos—” “I said do not come any closer.” Eton stopped where he was, obeying Thanos’s words, as he always did. “Let me talk to you.” “I do not want to talk,” Thanos spat. “Especially not with you.” The venom in those words stung. “Thanos—” “I said no. You will at least grant me the simple courtesy of your absence, since I am already to endure an eternity of torment you have inflicted.” Determined to get through to the angry male across from him, Eton pushed on. “It won’t ail you forever. You will soon heal—” “Heal?” Thanos thundered as he rounded on Eton. Eton schooled his earnest features, but he was a millisecond too late. “You cannot even look at me without flinching. Do not talk to me of healing. This”—Thanos pointed to his scarred face—“this will never heal.” He was right. Eton knew that, though his appearance didn’t matter to him. When he looked at Thanos, all he saw was his first-sired. The private lives of the Ancients were rarely discussed. To Vasilios and Diomêdês, their first-sired represented the ones they’d chosen to take under their wing. Someone to share their eternal existence with and ones who would follow them, be loyal to them, and obey. His and Thanos’s relationship was not that way at all. They kept their bond hidden, and for him, Thanos was the one who owned him—the one who calmed everything that ran riot inside him. O kýriós tou. His master. “Get out.” “You don’t mean—” “I said. Get. Out.” ETON STAGGERED TO a halt halfway down the hall, and raised a hand to steady himself against the wall. The memory of that night was as vivid now as it was back then, and it had brought with it something far more dangerous than a disconnect between an Ancient and his first-sired. His teeth tingled, wanting to punch free, and the skin around his lips drew painfully taut. It had been so many centuries since he’d sensed the dark presence within that the force in which it begun to resurface was overwhelming. He needed to get back to the sanctuary of his bedchambers. Back to the one place where he could lock himself inside and use magic to ensure his captivity—if only he could focus long enough to get there. He was grateful that no one was there to witness his undoing. Eton’s hand shook as he dug his fingertips into the stone until they bled. He needed that bite of pain, since Thanos wasn’t there to offer it, that sting to distract himself from the other, more pressing needs rising up inside of him. As it was, there was no way he’d be able to concentrate long enough to fade while this ugliness was fighting for dominance. His body trembled under his effort to control himself, and just when he thought he had a chance in hell of grasping its leash, Kronos, one of Alasdair’s newlings, came around the far end of the hall. Eton’s nostrils flared as he scented the male who’d come to a standstill like a deer in the brightest of headlights. As if he sensed the immediate peril he’d unknowingly stumbled upon, Kronos looked around, trying to locate anyone else as he swallowed. Eton heard the reaction as if it were his own, and lowered his eyes to the ground before digging his fingers deeper into the shale under his palm. “Eton, my Lord,” Kronos said. “I was just coming to—” “Run,” Eton interrupted, and the low pitch of his voice was not only a warning to this young vampire, but a fucked-up request from the other side of him. The monstrous side. “Run? But—” Eton raised his head, and when his eyes, which he knew now would be blood red, met Kronos’s, the vampire took a step back, as if realizing just how much danger he was in. “Run,” Eton said once again, and this time his voice sounded as though it had been grated over the sharpest, most jagged of edges. It was hoarse, torn, and so foreign that Eton was as stunned as Kronos that it had come from him. “I…I was coming to check on Thanos,” Kronos said, and then stopped talking when he noted the change that had begun. Eton knew exactly what the young male was seeing. It was a sight only three others had ever borne witness to—and survived. Kronos’s fangs dropped down in an automatic response to the threat metamorphosing before him. There was shock stamped over his pale features, his entire body trembled, and as he inched away, Eton caught the movement and flashed over in front of the male. His hand jerked out and his bloodied fingertips gripped Kronos’s throat in a punishing hold as he hauled him up and in line with what was a distorted version of the face he wore as Eton. “I told you to run.” Kronos opened his mouth to respond, but his protestation was never heard. Eton’s fist slammed through the male’s breastbone, and a harsh wheeze expelled from between Kronos’s lips. The cracking and splintering of his ribs only heightened the pleasure Eton’s monster thrived on as he took a hold of the heart within the vampire’s chest cavity and squeezed. As Eton’s fingers sank into the cold organ, Kronos’s eyes widened. “Yes,” Eton hissed. “You are finally seeing why… Why I told you to flee. Aren’t you, neare?” “But…” Kronos gasped. “But…why? What are you?” Eton’s nails extended from each finger with painful precision. But where vampire’s nails were known to extend to pointed tips, his curled into sharp, talon-like claws that scraped the delicate membrane surrounding Kronos’s heart. “I am daimon, Kronos. A hellish monster that should have been eliminated many years ago. I am a reminder of what dwells within us all.” Kronos shook his head, and Eton could hear his frenzied thoughts. What’s wrong with him? This isn’t Eton. He’s the calm one. He won’t kill me… He was right in one sense—Eton wouldn’t kill him. He had made it his mission to be as genteel and accommodating as could be over the years between the last time this happened and now. But…he was no longer thinking as Eton. As the turmoil inside Eton swirled to a frenzied height of consciousness, he twisted his gnarled hand and then tore it from Kronos’s chest, ripping the vampire’s heart from his body. When the male went limp in his grasp, Eton dropped him to the floor and brought the heart to his nose, where he took a deep inhale. The demon reveled in its victory as it slowly slithered back to the cracks within his soul, and then he let the organ roll from his palm and land by its lifeless owner at his feet. His claws retracted and his body twitched as he came back to himself, and as he stood in the silent catacomb of the hall, the realization of what he’d just done slammed into him. Eton turned his hands over to see the scarlet liquid staining his pale skin, and reveled in the thrill it gave him. Ever so slowly, he raised his hand to his mouth and licked a path along his bloodied fingers, and the red haze of the creature roared to life, threatening to take full control once more. The metallic thunk of a lock sounded, catching his attention, and when his name was called, Eton realized he must’ve let that roar free. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and was stunned to see that Thanos had come out into the hall. Ever since his disfigurement, Thanos had refused to leave his chambers. But even with the dark hood on and the half-face skull mask he’d asked for, Eton would know the set of those broad shoulders anywhere. Not to mention the sheer height of him. Thanos’s blue eyes shifted to the lifeless body by Eton’s feet, and when he raised them once again, Eton knew the vampire understood what had just happened out there. “Eton—” Before Thanos could say anything more, though, Eton snarled and took delight in the way Thanos backed up. Oh yes, as one of the few who remotely understood the hideous thing inside of him, Thanos knew exactly the kind of danger he was in, and the flare of his irises was a dead giveaway that he knew he was the cause of it. That’s right, kyrie mou, Eton shoved into Thanos’s mind. You wanted your freedom. You wanted Eton to leave. And we both know that is the only way this can now end. And with that, the Ancient who was once Eton faded from the hall. Begin the Masters Among Monsters series with Alasdair, now FREE in Kindle Unlimited! Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2j9cmbh Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2iaoHHN Isadora Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2iIbRE9 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2j4EqbE About the Author:Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!” A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction and lives with her husband in Portland, OR. You can reach her on the web at www.ellafrank.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ella.frank.author Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips. Connect with Ella:Newsletter – www.bit.ly/1hEYtgn Bookbub - http://bit.ly/29d67dD Website – www.ellafrank.com Twitter – @EllaFrank2012 FB - www.facebook.com/ella.frank.31 FB Street Team - www.facebook.com/groups/TheBrellas/ Instagram - www.instagram.com/ellafrank1/ Email: [email protected]
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Life isn’t a fairytale. Sometimes you have to fight for happily ever after. And sometimes you just have to let go. Sexiest Dad Alive (Knight Magazine #3) by M. Clarke RELEASES February 27th Add to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2jWGKGd Blurb Josh Bennett It was a simple offer. I invited Isla to rent a room in my five thousand square foot home. Plenty of rooms and plenty of space. But the second she moved in, I knew I was in trouble. I could handle wanting her when there was distance between us, but once we started to play house, all my pent up desire started knocking down walls. That was my first mistake of many. The private investigator I hired to track down my ex found her not far from where I live. I should have locked my past behind me, but something urged me to find her. I’m glad I did. But our union left me with a situation to be reckoned with. When a new fire is lit and old flames rekindle, one will have to burn out. The decisions I’ll have to make won’t be easy. No matter what I choose, my heart will break. Congrats to M. Clarke. Sexiest Man Alive has been accepted in the GRAMMY's bags for THE 59th Annual GRAMMY Awards VIP bag. Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2jByyqF Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2jJFMgt Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1PWNA3q Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1PL7vV5 ***** About the Author M. Clarke aka Mary Ting resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children’s chapter book-No Bullies Allowed.
Website: http://www.authormaryting.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMaryTing Instagram: https://instagram.com/authormaryting/ Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7181038.M_Clarke Blog: http://www.marytingbooks.blogspot.com/ Twitter @MaryTing https://twitter.com/MaryTing Subscribe to Mary’s newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/YMyCn Saving Mercy by Abbie RoadsSeries: Fatal Truth Series Genre: Dark Romantic Thriller Publication Date: April 4, 2017 AVAILABLE ON NETGALLEY PRE-ORDER NOW Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Google ![]()
He’s found her at last… Cain Killion knows himself to be a damaged man. His only redeeming quality? The extrasensory connection to blood that he uses to catch killers. His latest case takes a macabre turn when he discovers a familiar and haunting symbol linking the crime to his horrific past—and the one woman who might understand what it means. Only to lose her to a nightmare Mercy Ledger is brave, resilient, beautiful—and in terrible danger. The moment Cain finds her the line between good and evil blurs and the only thing clear to them is that they belong together. Love is the antidote for blood—but is their bond strong enough to overcome the madness that stalks them?
EXCERPT His neck itched and his body twitched. He shifted from one foot to the other, unable to stand still. Christ. He felt like an ADHD kid hopped up on sugar, trying to rein in a surplus of energy. Only it wasn’t energy pumping through him. It was anger. Rage. Fury. That’s what this place did to him. Made him into the sullen boy he’d once been who dreamed of wrath and revenge. “Mercy.” He whispered her name to the moon and some of the anger evaporated. “Mercy. Mercy. Mercy.” He used the word as a mantra, reveling in the taste of those vowels and consonants inside his mouth. Just saying her name calmed him. From inside the building, a rusty bolt scraped and banged, loud as a cherry bomb. The door swung inward, the squeal of old hinges shrieking through the night. In the woods, the coyote howled as if claiming its territory against the odd sounding intruder. Liz backed out the door, pulling a wheelchair. Twenty-five years ago, when he’d first met her here at The Institute she’d looked like a mom—a smile on her face, encouraging words on her lips, and a stout don’t-break-the-rules attitude. Now she looked the grandma version with her gray hair and pleasant plumpness. “Getting her out here was easier than I expected.” Liz didn’t exactly whisper, but didn’t speak at normal volume. “Ward A doesn’t have cameras since everyone is locked down. Thank the angels the night shift are notorious slackers—we didn’t run into anyone.” Liz turned the wheelchair to face him. The woman in the chair slumped in the corner of the seat, head hanging as if it were too heavy to lift. Her hair dangled in limp, stringy hanks that reminded him of blond worms. “This isn’t my Mercy.” Shit. The my had just slipped out. He didn’t look at Liz—didn’t want confirmation that she’d heard the slip. His Mercy had always been strong. Even at ten years old, throat wrapped in a fat wad of bandages, she’d seemed oddly poised and imperturbable during all the media interviews. She had survived something worse than what he had endured and yet retained her strength. She’d inspired him, intrigued him and tied herself to him without ever knowing. And she’d always been pretty. All strawberry blond hair and turquoise eyes and features that he’d just wanted to stare at because it made him feel all warm and nice on the inside. He’d never gotten close enough to smell her, but he imagined her scent to be a cross between fresh baked cookies and sunshine—not body odor and vomit like this woman. “It is her. See what he’s done to her?” Liz’s voice snapped like a whip. “Who?” Cain asked the question to Liz, but his gaze remained locked on Mercy. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, didn’t even seem alive. “Dr. Payne. He’s had a sick fascination with her from the first. Probably because she was the only person on Ward B who didn’t deserve to be there. He’s been pretty harmless until three days ago, when he moved her to Ward A.” “Why the fuck is she even here if she’s not—?” He’d assumed her past—what his father had done to her and her family—had finally caught up with her. He knelt in front of her wheelchair. “Don’t you curse at me boy.” Liz’s tone was all angry mom, making him feel like a bad kid. “Her official record says Undifferentiated Schizophrenia and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. But I’ve seen psychotic—she’s not psychotic and never has been.” He’d never spoken to Mercy before, never been this close to her, never dared to. He’d been a wuss—too damned scared of her reaction to approach her. She had every right to hate him. It was his father that killed her entire family, his father that slit her throat, and his father’s blood that ran in his veins.MEET THE AUTHOR
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