Monday, November 30, 2015

Indebted #6 Final Debt by Pepper Winters



More Jethro & Nila?  Yes Please!
Read the exciting conclusion & Bonus Epilogue NOW!
FINAL Debt is LIVE!
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Blurb

The Last Book in the New York Times Bestselling Dark Romance Series.
Where love tries to triumph and darkness continues to reign....

"I'm in love with her, but it might not be enough to stop her from becoming the latest victim of the Debt Inheritance. I know who I am now. I know what I must do. We will be together--I just hope it's on Earth rather than in heaven."

It all comes down to this.

Love versus life.

Debts versus death.

Who will win?

There is also a BONUS BOOK: Indebted Epilogue OUT NOW.


Indebted Epilogue ONLY $0.99


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Excerpt: Final Debt
“READY TO DIE, Nila?”
Cut’s voice physically hurt me as he forced me to my knees. The ballroom splendour mocked me as I bowed unwillingly at the feet of my executioner.
Velvet and hand-stitched crewel on the walls glittered like the diamonds the Hawks smuggled—a direct contrast to the roughly sawn wood and crude craftsmanship of the guillotine dais. No finesse. No pride. Just a raised podium, framework cushioning a large tarnished blade, and a rope dangling to the side.
“Don’t do this. Cut…think about what you’ve become. You can stop this.” My voice mimicked a beg but I’d vowed not to beg. I’d seen things, understood things, and suffered things I never thought I would be able to endure. I refused to cry or grovel. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“In five minutes, this will all be over, Weaver.” Cut bent to the side and collected a wicker basket.
The wicker basket.
I didn’t want to think about what its contents would be.
He placed it on the other side of the wooden block.
My lungs demanded more oxygen. My brain demanded more time. And my heart…it demanded more hope, more life, more love.
I’m not ready.
Not like this.
“Cut—”
“No. No more talking. Not after everything you’ve done.” Ripping a black hood from his pocket, he didn’t hesitate. No fanfare. No second guesses.
I cried out as the scratchy blackness engulfed my face, tightening by a cord around my throat.
The Weaver Wailer chilled me. The diamond collar that’d seen what I’d seen and whispered with phantoms of my slain family prepared to revoke its claim and detach from around my neck.
This was it.
The Final Debt.
Cut pushed my shoulders forward.
A heavy yoke settled over the top of my spine.
I closed my eyes.
I said goodbye.
I waited to die.


One Week Earlier

“NO!”
I pushed back, gripping the handrails of the private jet, throwing my weight against Daniel’s incessant pushing. “Stop!”
“Get up the fucking stairs, Weaver.” Daniel jabbed his elbow into my spine.
I stumbled, bashing my knee against the high tread. “You can’t do this!” How had this happened? How had mere hours turned the entire universe against me? Again.
I wanted to smash every clock. Tear out the cog from every watch.
Time had once again stolen my life.
Jethro!
Daniel cackled. “I think you’ll find we can.” He shoved me higher.
My heart hurt—as if every mile between us and Hawksridge was a blade slicing me further from Jethro’s protection—a disharmony in an already discorded symphony.
One moment, I’d been love-bruised and adored, tiptoeing back into the Hall; the next, I was trapped, forced to dress in jeans and a hoodie, and obey Daniel as he lurked in my doorway, barking orders to pack a few meagre belongings.
He hadn’t left me alone.
His eyes followed my every move. I couldn’t grab the gun I’d hidden thanks to Jasmine. I couldn’t text Jethro to tell him I’d been caught. All I could do was run around my room with my lover’s release still damp on my inner thighs and submit to my nemesis.
The only saving grace was beneath Daniel’s hateful stare, I’d managed to pack the clothing I’d altered a few weeks ago. The cuffs full of needles and hems armoured with tools of my seamstress trade. Those garments were my only hope. There was no loophole. No way to refuse.
I had to trust Jasmine would get word to Jethro. That he would come for me…
Before it’s too late.
The desolation I’d suffered when Daniel first caught me faded to indignant anger. I’d been so close to being free. I’d been in Jethro’s arms. I’d been away from his psychotic family. My heart hardened a little toward Jethro for making me go back.
Why? Why did you send me back?
I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to forgive him.
You know why. And you will. Of course, you will.
I couldn’t hate him because I wasn’t selfish. He’d sent me back to protect all of us. Those precious few who’d accepted him and he’d accepted in return. Love was the worst enemy, winding its commitment, ensuring no freedom when it came to clearheaded thinking of adversity.
Jethro loved too much. Felt too much. Suffered too much. And his siblings would be our downfall. Kestrel and Jasmine relied on him—just like I did. The responsibility of settling his family’s wrongs was a terrible burden to bear.
But he’s not alone.
I might’ve been stolen. Jethro’s plans to save me might be ruined. But I was still alive. Still breathing. I wasn’t the na├»ve girl who’d first arrived at Hawksridge. I was a woman in love with a Hawk. A Weaver who would draw Hawk blood.
It’s not over…
Pain exploded in my spine as Daniel stabbed me with his fist. “Get in the fucking airplane.”
“No!” I threw myself backward, looking frantically at the private hangar. We weren’t at Heathrow, but a small, private airfield called Turweston. “I won’t!”
No strangers I could call for help.
No police or air marshals.
When Daniel had stalked me from my room and shoved me outside, Cut had been waiting. With a victorious smile, he’d stuffed me in the back of a limousine.
With a purring engine, we’d pulled away from Hawksridge, tyres crunching on gravel as we followed the long driveway off the estate.
My eyes had scoured the trees, their silhouettes growing stronger as the sun tinted the sky with pink blushes. Daniel and Cut sat opposite me, toasting each other with a chilled bottle of champagne. However, I hadn’t been alone on my side of the limo—I had a guard.
Marquise, Bonnie’s damn henchman, sat beside me; a mountain of muscle, unyielding and impenetrable.
“Come along.” A strange voice raised my gaze.
A man in a captain’s uniform smiled from the top of the aircraft steps. The private plane’s fuselage glinted in graphite grey. Sparkling diamonds, inlaid in the shape of a windswept ribbon, decorated the tail.
“I don’t want to leave England.”
Daniel laughed behind me. “Like you have a choice.”
“I always have a choice, Buzzard.” I glowered over my shoulder. “Just like this choice of yours will not end well for you.”
If I don’t kill you, Jethro will.
As far as Daniel knew, his slain brother was supposedly rotting in some unmarked grave. Jethro was right. The element of surprise trumped any of Cut and Daniel’s grand delusions.
He snarled, “Watch it, bitch. Everything you say to me here will be paid in full when we’re there.”
“Now, now. No need for threats.” The captain climbed down a rung, holding out his hand. “She’ll get on board. Won’t you, my dear? No need to be afraid of flying. I have an exemplary record.” White hair tufted from either side of his pristine flying cap. In his mid-fifties, he looked fit and toned and impatient to take off.
“I can’t leave.”
I can’t be so far from Jethro.
The captain smiled, waving at his vessel. “Of course, you can. Plus, I bet you’ve never travelled in such style.”
“It’s nothing against your mode of transport. It’s the destination I disagree to. I’m staying here.” I dug my heels into the metal grate, fighting against Daniel’s perpetual pushing. “I don’t have my passport, visa… I can’t travel across borders, so you might as well let me return home.”
Home.
Had Hawksridge Hall become my home?
No, don’t be absurd.
But Jethro had. It didn’t matter where we ended up. What we did for work. How our lives panned out. As long as I was alive with Jethro by my side…I would be home.
“Don’t fuss about that.” The captain waved his hand in invitation. “Travel is good for the soul.”
Not my soul.
Travel meant my soul would become untethered from my body, thanks to Cut and the Final Debt.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon, hidden by soupy fog and reluctant night. The world refused to warm, unable to shed the morning frost or dislodge the claws of winter. England didn’t want to say goodbye as much as I did, its reluctant dawn wanting me to stay.
“If you don’t get on the motherfucking plane in two seconds, Weaver, you’ll live to regret it,” Daniel growled.
I glared at the youngest Hawk. “Haven’t you learned by now your threats don’t scare me?”
Forcing myself to stand taller, I hid the quaking in my bones, the quivering in muscles, the rampant terror scurrying in my blood. “I know where you want to take me, and I refuse.”
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. A second later, he cuffed me on the back of the head. “Behave!”
I gritted my teeth against the wash of agony.
“Almasi Kipanga is a fucking treat for the likes of you, Weaver. Get on your knees and show some goddamn appreciation. Otherwise, I’ll rip out your fucking tongue and ensure peace for the rest of the trip.”
“Ah, as I said, there’s no need for violence.” The captain took another step, prying my hand off the railing and tugging me upward. “Come along, my dear. Let’s get you inside. And don’t you worry about visas and things. Leave it to me. Airport control won’t be an issue.”
Vertigo cast the world in monochromatic greys as I swayed toward the captain. “But—”
Cut barrelled past Daniel—reaching the end of his patience. Grabbing my arse, he shoved me upward, forcing me like unwilling livestock up the final steps. “I have your passport, Nila. Get on the plane.” His breath skated over the back of my neck. “And don’t think about refusing again. Got it?”
Gripping the fuselage, I looked over my shoulder. “My passport? How did you—”
He waved a black binder in my face. “Everything is in here. You have no more excuses, and I won’t ask again. Get on the fucking plane or I’ll knock you out and you can wake up when we get there.”

 Series Reading Order

Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1) FREE

First Debt (Indebted #2)
Second Debt (Indebted #3)

Third Debt (Indebted #4)

 Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)


Final Debt (Indebted #6)
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Indebted Epilogue (Indebted #7)
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Google Play: http://bit.ly/1Qt3bvR

About the Author:


Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex... her books have sex.
She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Her Dark Erotica books include:
Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)
Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)

Her Grey Romance books include:
Destroyed

STALK Pepper: Website | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads


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Sunday, November 29, 2015

All that's left to hold onto by Ella Fox





Letting go is all Ronan's ever known.
Will he realize a life with Keely is something
he should hold onto at any cost?

Find out in All That’s Left to Hold Onto by Ella Fox!

AVAILABLE NOW!




Blurb

When Ronan Sharpe unexpectedly left Colorado for parts unknown, he took a piece of Keely Carmichael's heart with him.

After leaving his hellish roots behind him, Ronan found contentment when he started over. Thoughts of the past had been pushed down for so long; he hardly thought about it at all.

He intended to keep it that way.

When unexpected circumstances force Ronan to return to Colorado, the Keely he finds is no longer the adolescent girl he remembered. Torn between desire and fear, Ronan struggles with his feelings for Keely and his need to escape the town that scarred him so deeply years ago.

Letting go is all Ronan's ever known. Will he realize a life with Keely is something he should hold onto at any cost?



PROLOGUE

There were nasty looking bruises on his cheek and jaw, his lip was swollen and his knuckles were scraped and bloody.  The instant I got a good look at his face I knew something was horribly wrong.  It only went downhill from there.

My attempts to contain my panic weren’t working.  Choking back a sob I blubbered, “Why do you have to go?”

The anger was all but pouring off of him.  Not toward me—he’d never once been angry with me. I knew anger though, and it was more than obvious he was furious about something. A permanent grimace seemed to have set up camp on his face.  For him, it was highly unusual.  Even in the toughest of times, he kept his cool. 

Suddenly, he wasn't calm at all.  He was angrier than I’d ever seen him.  It was obvious he’d been in a fight, but it didn’t change his status as the most attractive guy alive, in my opinion.

I saw his jaw clenching and unclenching which I figured meant he was trying to control himself.

“Because this piece of shit town is like a fucking cancer,” he spat.  “I’m so done with the crazy assholes around here. People like us aren’t normal—we’re the freaks for trying to be good people.”

I didn’t know how to argue with his words.  He wasn’t wrong—there was a lot wrong with many of the people in our town. Most of the crazy people were either my family members or his.  I knew it and so did he.  There wasn’t a response to erase the reality of the kind of people we dealt with.

“Are you going alone?”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“Even though you live with—”

His hand shot up into a stop gesture to keep me from finishing the sentence.

“Don’t say her fucking name. If I never hear it again, it’ll be too soon. I don’t live with that crazy bitch anymore.”

I couldn’t stand her so it wasn’t like I was going to push. She was an evil troll. If he had to go, I was glad he wasn’t taking her with him.  It would’ve made me ill. She pretended to be sweetness and light when he was around but it was nothing but a charade.  She was terrible.  I was glad he wasn’t taking her, but the fact he wouldn’t say her name told me his leaving was somehow her responsibility. I hated her more than ever.

“Where will you go?”

He gestured back over his shoulder toward the street with his thumb. 

“Wherever my car takes me once I pull out,” he said.

I couldn’t imagine life without him, nor did I want to. Not only had he been my crush for as long as I could remember, he was the only person who ever really listened to me. 

“Will you ever visit?” I asked hopefully.

He was shaking his head in the negative before I’d even fully finished asking the question. I knew he wouldn’t. The bone-deep hatred he had for everything about where we lived was stamped all over his face.  I wanted so badly to know what, exactly, had sent him over the edge, but when I asked, he’d refused to tell me.

It sucked being fourteen because he treated me like a kid.  My age said I was a child, but I was so different than any of my peers it wasn’t even funny.  Because of this, they teased me often, referring to me as Granny Carmichael.  I hated it.  It wasn’t as though I’d had a choice.  My childhood was over the moment my mother got sick. 

His expression softened when he looked me over. “You need to get back inside before you get pneumonia.”

The frigid Colorado air wasn’t even making an impression on me until he pointed it out. I realized my tears were leaving cold trails on my face, but I couldn’t walk away. All I cared about was how much I didn’t want him to leave.

“I don’t care about the cold or getting pneumonia.  I don’t want you to go!” I cried anxiously.

He hugged me then, his strong arms wrapping around me to give comfort.  I hadn’t hugged him since I’d been much younger—probably five or six.  Those hugs had mostly involved me wrapping myself around one of his legs.  This was different. I wrapped my arms tight around him and cried against his chest, holding on for as long as he allowed me to. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as he ended the embrace and stepped back. “I have to leave.”

Knowing my denial and resistance weren’t going to make any difference, I swiped at my tears as I nodded.

“I’ll miss you,” I said on a choked sob.  “Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied softly.  “You’re one of the few good people here.”

My heart galloped in my chest. I loved him for saying what he did—but hated that it came at such a horrible price.  Losing him was unbearable. 

He turned as if to leave, then stopped.  Spinning back my way, he stared at me intently for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re so much better than any of these people. Don’t ever let them change who you are. The world needs a lot more you and a lot less them. No matter what anyone tells you—you’re perfect.  Got it?”

I nodded as I wiped at the tears running unchecked down my face.

He hugged me again, very briefly. My heart skipped a few beats when he dropped a kiss on top of my head.

“Don’t ever forget your worth—not even for a minute,” he murmured.

When he let go, he said nothing else.  He just turned and walked to his car.  As he went, the chill in the air suddenly took hold of me.  Hugging my arms around myself, I watched as he got into the car, turned it on and then pulled out of my driveway.  He looked at me one last time before putting his hand up in a goodbye gesture.  I did the same.  A few seconds passed before he put the car in drive then sped off into the night.

I stayed outside for two or three minutes, hoping against hope he would change his mind and come back. 

He didn’t.

Hours later when I got into bed, I prayed fate would bring him back one day.  I said the same prayer most nights for a long, long time. Eventually I had no choice but to accept reality.

Hell would freeze over before he returned.




About the Author:


Ella Fox writes like a woman possessed whenever she gets the chance!  She is the author of The Hart Family Series, The Renegade Saints Series and The Catch Series.

When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country.  Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh.  Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies.

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Email | Website |

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