Tag: erotic romance

🔥🥀 Raven & the Beast: Spicy Contemporary Romance 🥀🔥

~ Faedra Rose ~ Leave a comment

BOOK SPOTLIGHT: RAVEN & THE BEAST

Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Raven & the Beast? If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb and an excerpt to capture your imagination!

BLURB:
Escaping an abusive relationship with a violent Dom, Cassidy has nothing and no one to support her. So, she does the only thing she can. She takes on the oldest trade in the world, and sells her body by the hour at The Glory Hole, the oldest, and most famous sex club in New York City.
Taking on the stage name of “Raven”, she intends to work just as long as it takes to save some money, and get back on her own two feet. But then she meets her first anonymous patron for the night—“the Beast”—and her life takes a very unexpected turn when he doesn’t want to let her go.

GRAB YOUR COPY OF RAVEN & THE BEAST, NOW!

EXCERPT:

My heart races as I enter through the STAFF ONLY door of The Glory Hole. With a full face of makeup, and my pitch-black hair freshly washed and loose, I slip through the dark, neon-lit halls to find a free booth. It’s my first night working, and I couldn’t be more anxious. My skin prickles with electricity, practically vibrating with nervous energy. I never imagined I’d end up in the sex industry, just another piece of meat in the grinder … but here we are.

Truth be told, I have no other options. I can’t stand facing people. Even just doing my shopping and getting from one place to the next consumes all my mental fortitude. There is no way I could deal with your run-of-the-mill customer service jobs, be it cashier, waitress, or telemarketer. Since my ex isolated me, breaking me down piece by piece until he shattered my expressive and once bold soul, I’ve become low-level agoraphobic. If I’m outside of my safe space for too long, or around crowds of people, I put myself at risk of suffering a panic attack.

The brutality of my ex-boyfriend’s particular brand of love still haunts me. The pain he caused remains as clear on my flesh as it does in my heart. Abusive piece of shit. He lured me into the BDSM scene with his smoking hot good looks, knee-weakening charm, and natural dominance.

Like a hapless moth entranced by a glowing flame, I eventually ventured too close to his fire—and I got burned. What started out as a consensual Dom/sub relationship soon turned ugly. There were no limits, safewords, or respect. I became his collared property. And I wasn’t his precious pet, or his beloved submissive … he treated me like I was worthless. He made me feel like I should be grateful he even allowed me to breathe.

He stole my heart when I was at my most vulnerable and took advantage, asserting his power over me in the most violent and toxic ways imaginable. I grew to fear him, trembling at his touch in genuine terror for my life. And then I learned I wasn’t the first. I was just another dumb bitch in a long line of used up, abused, and discarded women. I wasn’t special. And he wasn’t just losing control. I was simply nothing to him, and he never really loved me. He wasn’t worthy of the excuses I was making for him. He really was just a monster.

So, I ran as far I could and hitched the rest of the way when my legs would no longer carry me. And now I have nothing to call my own in this world. No family, no savings, no friends to fall back on. There’s just what I am—a body. A body that can enter into service of the oldest profession known to mankind. I can sell my tomb of flesh by the hour, but at least this time it’s on my terms. I know what I’m getting myself into. Everything is upfront, literally written in black and white, and signed on the dotted line. With my prior experience in the BDSM lifestyle, and my utter lack of self-esteem, this seemed like the next logical step in rebuilding my life. I love sex. I just hate my fucking ex. I’m going to earn a wage to survive on, and reclaim my sexuality at the same time.

My job here at The Glory Hole is to be one of many anonymous fucks—with three holes and two hands to be used for the pleasure of others for as long as they desire, until my shift ends. But instead of death threats, black eyes, bruises, bloody lips, and hours of painful, emotional rejection, I get to leave each night with a fat paycheck for my efforts. And if I’m lucky, I might just enjoy some of it and begin to heal the damage of my past. I mean, it’s sex minus the violence. It’s a start, and some of it is bound to feel good, right?

At the end of the day, what matters most is that I’m finally safe from that bastard who so selfishly carved his name onto my heart with his cruelty. I have a chance to start over. I might be crawling up from rock bottom, but I refuse to lay down and die. And it’s not like I can fall any further. I’ll suck cock for as long as it takes to claw my way to true freedom and independence. And thankfully, until I can afford a place of my own, I can rent a room above the club. The security here is second to none, and the club takes care of its girls. We may be commodities, but here at least we’re valued. And if I get to bliss out to an orgasm or two as my clients get their rocks off? Awesome. I can think of worse jobs.

The booth is clean but small, and covered with artistic street graffiti, setting the mood. This may not be a high-class establishment, but it’s one of the oldest and well-known in New York City. You’re just as likely to find an undercover celebrity frequenting the glory holes to satisfy his carnal lust as the crackhead that deals drugs down glass-strewn, dark alleys.

The Glory Hole rejects no one who can afford to be here, assuming you check out physically. Whether you’ve got old money, a steady blue-collar job, or you just hawked everything you own to get in the door, one man’s paper is as good as any other’s.

Licking my glossy black lips, I sit down and strap on my matching black heels. Here, my name is Raven. Gothic, exotic, and tantalizing—I’d like to think I offer something a little less vanilla than most are used to. Dabbing some perfume on my pulse points, I freshen up and take a deep swig of liquid courage from the flask in my handbag. We’re not allowed to be inebriated on the job, but they’re not going to begrudge a new girl a little bit of comfort on her first night.

Slipping off my skirt and G-string, I let them fall to the floor. Then sucking in a steadying breath, I perch my ass on the padded leather bench that’s to be my fuck bed. Laying down, I slip my legs through the curtain made of soft leather strips that match the bench. Wiggling down until the strips tickle my hips, I’m painfully aware that my waxed cunt and voluptuous butt are now on display to anyone who might be on the other side of the glory hole.

I reach for the wall-mounted pump of lube, and squirt some into my hand, before reaching down cautiously beyond the curtain. My fingers graze my clit as I make both my holes slick, readying myself for my first customer until I naturally have time to get warmed up. I shiver as my long black nails play across my delicate folds, before sliding up my stomach to disappear from view once more.

Unable to see anything beyond my own navel, I stare up at the ceiling and bite my lower lip. This is it, I realize with a scintillating thrill. From this moment on, I’m officially a whore.

GRAB YOUR COPY OF RAVEN & THE BEAST, NOW!

If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!

🍒⭐️ GIVEAWAYS & PROMOS ⭐️🍒

Thank you once again for reading, and for your support! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter.
Until next time!

🪻🌻 ENTANGLED SOULS: Spicy & Epic Enemies-to-Lovers Romantasy! 🪻🌻

~ Faedra Rose ~ Leave a comment

BOOK SPOTLIGHT: ENTANGLED SOULS

Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Entangled Souls? If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb and an excerpt to capture your imagination!

BLURB:
Seven thousand years after the Dark Lord unleashed his Darkness upon the Continent, in grief, killing millions—a new Lady of Light is born, a doppelganger of his lost love.
When she comes of age, her inner Darkness calls out to the immortal and jaded Nox. At the sacred Day of Love celebrations by the River of Souls, Nox risks his life to save hers, breeching the magical barrier that keeps him out of the North, defying the Goddess. In that moment, he unknowingly sacrifices a part of himself, sharing his immortality with the young queen, Astra, and entangling their souls forever after…

GRAB YOUR COPY OF ENTANGLED SOULS, NOW!

EXCERPT:

Astra

I am unlike the White Queens that have come before me—there’s something wrong with me. Born to reign over the Northern Continent from the Crystal Throne, I’m supposed to be the Bastion of Light, Scion of Purity, and the Heart of Goodness… I was born to be the moral compass for my people, but I fear that I’m not. I fear that I can’t be, no matter how hard I try, because deep down inside me exists a truth that I’m afraid to admit.

I fear that even giving it credence will only cause it to take root, and grow like a weed—wild, rampant, and unchecked—to choke the sacred garden of my soul and poison my heart. But the seed is already there. I feel it like a fleck of Darkness, just waiting patiently for its time to bloom and reveal me for the traitor I am. And more than that … I’m afraid that I want to find out, and be found out.

Today is the Day of Love, a day where we all celebrate the driving force that keeps us together, like a celestial glue that anchors our hearts to one another, as friends, family, and lovers. From the lowliest servant to the crown that sits atop my head, we all take this day to thank the Goddess for this gift. Love is what keeps us going. It’s what keeps us fighting each and every day. It’s what separates us from the Southern Continent and its bleak and Eternal Darkness.

The River of Souls divides us physically, acting as a barrier. When we die our souls will join the river, and wrest against the poisoned souls from the South for all eternity to keep the North safe, prosperous, and peaceful. Our deaths, therefore, are as meaningful as our lives. For in death, we protect all that we love. We keep the sacred balance so that all those who come after us may enjoy what we have.

On the Day of Love the people of the North bring tributes to the North bank, to honor all those who have passed, and to thank them for their undying service to those of us who live on. Some travel for weeks from all corners of the North to be here on this day. And I too must participate in the observance.

Each year a royal procession leaves the White Castle and the White Queen has the sacred duty of commencing observance. I will lead my people in song and prayer, so that the souls who ensure our safety know they are not forgotten, nor unappreciated.

The Day of Love also serves as a reminder to us all, that the Goddess sacrificed a part of her Light the day the barrier was created. That Light now lives on in me. I am the living embodiment of the Goddess here on the Continent. Within me resides the truth of her existence, and the people’s final hope. She is our mercy against the Dark.

If there ever comes a day the River of Souls should break, and the souls of Darkness spill into the North like a plague, only the White Queen’s sacrifice can cleanse the land and save her people. It’s why the White Queens are always armed. Despite our purity and peaceful ways, it is our duty to protect. And like a key in a lock, only by the queen’s own hand can the sacrifice be made. My life for the many—that is the burden I carry. And some days it feels heavier than others. Today is one of those days. Today, I feel its crushing weight, and yearn to be free of it.

It’s selfish and immature, and beyond preposterous, but I feel it all the same. I may wear a crown, I may have been raised and educated a princess, and crowned a queen, but I’m still just one soul—and a lonely soul at that. I have come of age, and soon I must take a husband so that I can ensure the Passing of the Light. But my heart stubbornly shirks the responsibility thrust upon it. It wants to be wild and free, like a bird on the wing. It wants to fly and explore, and experience more than what duty has so rigidly planned for it.

They say duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty. But I dance the fine line in-between these two truths. I must follow duty for love—for the love of my people. The price of this duty is the death of love. My love, or at least any opportunity for it. I will marry, carry a child, and pass on the Light as is my sworn duty. And in that commitment I will have a tame love, safety, and my fair share of contentment … but what my heart truly desires is unthinkable. It craves adventure, danger, and an epic love that sweeps me off my feet.

I want to feel just once like nothing in the world matters but a single breathless moment. I want to feel such passion that for just a heartbeat in time I’d be willing to see the Continent burn … just to stay right there. To make that perfect, ravenous, and all-consuming fire last a little longer—even if it’s wrong in every sense of the word—before it must be quenched and dashed. Just like my dreams.

Is that so wrong? I wonder, as my maids dress me in the last of my crystalline regalia. Fire can’t always be contained. Sometimes it longs to be wild and swallows everything in its path. And you can’t blame the fire, for that is its very nature—and new life springs forth from the destruction it wreaks. So, is it truly wrong for my heart to want for more? To lust after something so intangible as a passion the likes of which no White Queen has ever felt?

With a sigh, I adjust my crown. Time to go. Starting the long descent from my tower chambers, I can’t help but be acutely aware of the way my heart skips and flutters with a strange, and new nervous energy.

GRAB YOUR COPY OF ENTANGLED SOULS, NOW!

If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!

❤️⚠️ GIVEAWAYS & PROMOS ⚠️❤️

Thank you once again for reading, and for your support! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter.
Until next time!

😈💀 Loving Monsters: Spicy Paranormal Monster Romances! 🎃👹

~ Faedra Rose ~ Leave a comment

Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Loving Monsters: Volume 1? (Book 1 – 5 of the Loving Monsters series) If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb and an excerpt to capture your imagination!

BLURB:

5 wickedly dark and delicious monster romance novellas in one beautiful paperback collection! Featuring Jack the Trickster in Sinister Desires, The Grim Reaper in Deathly Desires, The Devil in Infernal Desires, The Kraken in Twisted Desires, and The Mothman in Lunatic Desires!

GRAB YOUR COPY OF LOVING MONSTERS: VOLUME 1, NOW!

EXCERPT:

I’m not ready to die! I cry out in my mind—to God, the universe, my foremothers, or All Hallows’ spirits; I can’t be sure. Everything that has previously existed in my life has narrowed down to one imperative goal: survive. Heart set on home, I push myself until my lungs are burning and a pain flares in my side, stealing the breath from me. I gasp out in pain, my hand finding the confluence of my hip. A fucking stitch! You’ve got to be kidding me. Not. Now!

But in the next second, the stitch is the least of my problems. Something catches my boot, and suddenly I’m airborne. A scream rips from my throat as I fly for what seems like forever. I hit the sodden ground hard and shriek as pain radiates through me from my chest. My ankle feels like it’s at entirely the wrong angle.

“Fuck!” I sob, drawing myself up onto my knees. Reaching out for something, anything, with which to support myself, I find a large crooked stick. Gritting my teeth, I mutter a string of profanities under my breath as I clutch it with both hands, pulling myself up by sheer force of will. A low growl rumbles behind me, and I forget how to breathe. This is it. This is where I make my stand. This is where I die—in the woods on Halloween. Fucking perfect. A ridiculously nervous, bordering on maniacal laugh escapes me as I turn to face the wolf.

“All right, bitch,” I say, raising the stick like a baseball bat. “Let’s do this. If I’m going to die, you’re going to be chewing on my fat ass with one mother fucker of a headache!”

The wolf growls again, baring its fangs in a vicious snarl of warning.

“Come on!” I goad. “What are you waiting for?”

The wolf lowers its head, pawing at the earth as it gets ready to launch.

No. Fuck you! And then, committing my weight to the swing, I lash out first, bringing the stick around in a wide arc. I catch the side of the wolf’s face, and it seems as though the moment plays out in slow motion. I see the wolf’s flesh ripple with the impact of my blow, and its nose scrunch as the force knocks its head to the side—causing it to stumble and yelp.

“Come on! Is that all you’ve got? Where are your friends?” I shout, trying to ignore the searing pain in my ankle. I gingerly put weight on it, struggling to keep my balance. The wolf growls again, and its pack stalks from the darkness. “All right, now this is a party!” I scream at them, gripping the stick tight. If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging!

The wolves’ golden eyes glimmer in the moonlight like jewels. They’re such beautiful beasts. If only they weren’t trying to eat me… A brisk breeze ruffles my hair, and the air behind me chills so suddenly, and unexpectedly, that it feels like some cruel trickster has snuck up on me and tipped a bucket of ice-water down my spine. I freeze in place as the wolves whine. One after the other, they back-step, their glittering eyes focused somewhere behind me. Then the wolves flee as one, turning on their heels, deciding that I’m not worth standing up to whomever—or whatever—lurks at my back, bringing the chill of the grave with it.

Trembling, I will myself to turn and face my unexpected savior. Or is it damnation? Agonizingly slowly I find the courage to pivot around. Eyes on the ground, my gaze travels up a weathered black trench coat which whispers eerily in the mist as if it’s alive, like sentient, breathing shadows. I swallow the bile that creeps up my throat, daring to look higher still.

An imposing figure reveals broad shoulders, and upon those intimidating shoulders sits a pumpkin—a jack-O-lantern to be exact. With the most menacing, soul-sapping, sharp-toothed grin, and angled, hollowed-out eyes that burn not with the innocent flames of tea-light candles, but with the fucking fires of Hell. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes. Not even a squeak. My lips move, but my lungs fail me.

The jack-O-lantern opens its coat with long, green, provocatively clawed fingers to reveal an equally moss-green body; the body of a man, but not. My unblinking gaze trails down solid pecs to find a ridiculously ripped set of abs … and then… Sweet mother of God! This abomination is packing the biggest, thickest cock I’ve ever seen. It must be twelve inches! And it’s green, too!

I can’t do anything but stare, immobile as the monster steps closer, its blazing eyes dancing with a terrifying intelligence. I gasp as a leafy vine creeps out from under his trench coat, trailing over the moist earth. Its delicate tendrils twist around my ankle, wrapping it up like a bandage of green gauze; then they tighten, and a cry bursts out of me at the sharp but fleeting pain that follows. I watch with rapt fascination as the vines uncoil, releasing my leg, only to disappear back beneath the jack-O-lantern’s coat of darkness.

I instinctively twitch my ankle, then gasp, glancing up at the towering monster before testing my weight on it. “It doesn’t hurt,” I whisper in awe. “You fixed it?”

The jack-O-lantern tilts its pumpkin head the way a curious cat might, as if it wants to communicate.

“Thank you,” I stammer, raising my voice above a whisper. “You saved me from those wolves, and now you’ve re-set my foot.” I lick my lips nervously when no conversation is forthcoming. “Can you speak?”

The monster shakes its head slowly from side to side, never taking its burning eyes from me. It watches me for a time. Then another tendril snakes out, writhing toward me to seize my wrist, tightening just enough to hurt. It tugs, drawing me nearer and nearer. I stumble forward, eyes wide, my heart in my throat as the living pumpkin vines pull my gloved hand toward its monstrous, green, dark-veined cock.

GRAB YOUR COPY OF LOVING MONSTERS: VOLUME ONE, NOW!

If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!

PREFER EBOOKS? GRAB THE WHOLE SERIES SO FAR!

Not enough Halloween spookiness for you? NO PROBLEM! My bestie’s newest book has just gone live and it’s available in ebook, paperback, and audio! Treat yourself. You totally deserve it.

BLURB:

He’s handsome, funny, and a real Romantic. Unfortunately, he’s dead.

Voicey, irreverent, and delightfully gothic.’ Keshe Chow, Sunday Times bestselling author of The Girl with No Reflection ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

When student journalist Emma goes undercover to investigate a secret society resurrecting long-dead literary icons, she expects to discover nothing more than a group of college girls with Ouija boards. What she doesn’t expect is to accidentally summon the spirit of never-quite-famous poet, Nathaniel Harker.

Now, Emma’s got a brooding, besotted nineteenth-century poet following her around. But whilst initially determined to write the article of a lifetime, she quickly discovers that the lure of her very own love-struck tortured poet is hard to resist…

However, as they fall for each other, Emma realizes the sorority sisters are onto her ghostly secret. It’s up to her to keep her poet safe no matter what the cost—but will protecting Nathaniel also mean losing him forever?

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days meets Ghosts in this quirky, gothic, dark academia spooky romance.

PURCHASE DEAD POETS SORORITY, NOW!

🌹🔥 GIVEAWAYS & BOOK FAIRS 🔥🌹

Thank you once again for reading, and for your support! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter.
Until next time!

🪶💙 Raven’s Solstice: A Spicy Fae Romantasy! 💙🪶

~ Faedra Rose ~ Leave a comment

Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Raven’s Solstice? (Book 1 of the The Winter Court series) If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb, a spicy trope map, and an excerpt to capture your imagination!

BLURB:
Ignoring the warnings of her village elders, Raven McArren ventures beyond the Veil on All Hallows’ Eve, becoming trapped in Faery. Cold and alone, Raven manages to survive the harsh eternal winter and the cruelty of the fae with no more than her wits and will to live.
But she’s not alone. She’s being watched by the winter prince, and he has an offer for her that she can’t refuse. In exchange for his protection, and safe passage out of Faery, she must give him an heir.
With no other choice, she accepts. Little does she know that the prince’s bed chamber and the politics of the Winter Court might prove just as dangerous as the wilds of Faery…

GRAB YOUR COPY OF RAVEN’S SOLSTICE, NOW!

EXCERPT:

Heaving a sigh, I suppress a shiver. The festivities of Dol Mortagh are not meant for me. Turning my back on the bright lights and merriment of the village to return home, my evening suddenly takes an unexpected turn.

“Going somewhere, pretty bird?”

I gasp, my hand flying to my heart in shock as a fae of breathtaking and soul-stealing beauty stands before me, squarely blocking my path. “I-I…” I lick my lips, mind racing. This is no common fae. I know it in my bones. He looks like royalty. One of the High Fae. Bedecked in finery from head to toe, he wears jewels on his fingers so exquisitely ornate that I can’t even begin to guess at their value. And he is beautiful. So very heart-achingly beautiful. With long, gleaming silver hair like a waterfall of moonlight, sharp cheekbones, and eyes like deep blue ice—I imagine he could tempt even the godliest of mortals to sin.

“You are mortal,” he says, ignoring my stuttering attempt at communication. “So, why are you here? Faery is no place for your kind. You are far too soft to survive here. Our worlds are kept separate for a reason.”

“I am trapped,” I whisper, feeling stupid and ashamed. “I have been here since All Hallows’ Eve, and I do not know how to get home.”

The icy fae closes the distance between us, scenting my neck like a wild, primal animal. He gazes into my eyes with a frightening intensity, unnerving me further. “You cannot return until the Veil lifts next All Hallows’ Eve,” he says. “That is the better part of a year you will need to survive the cruelty of the outskirts of my realm.”

“Your realm?”

The fae smirks, his allure rolling off of him in cool, intoxicating waves that make me feel drunk. “I am Kyren,” he says elegantly, his lips perilously close to my own. “And I am the prince of the Winter Court.”

Despite my failing lucidity, my eyes widen in immediate understanding. “It is you,” I whisper as the stars begin to spin around me. It all makes sense now! “You have kept the wolves at bay … they are beholden to you.” A sleek, approving smile lets me know that I have figured out the truth. Then, without warning my legs give way, and I fall into the quixotic, icy oblivion of Kyren’s allure.

****

Softness and warmth welcome me as I awaken. I sit up hesitantly in a grand bed made of smooth, twisting ice enchanted into the likeness of branched trees with glittering crystal leaves.

“Good evening,” says Kyren, smiling at me from a frozen chair across the room.

I swallow my fear and beg my heart to be calm. “Where am I?” Stupid question.

“In my bedchamber,” he says with a seductive lilt to his voice.

An unexpected ache blooms between my thighs, hot and insistent. I catch the gasp that wants to escape behind my teeth and take a deep, steadying breath. “Why am I here?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, his eyes burning like blue stars. “Be my mistress for the next nine months, and in return I will keep you safe, fed, clothed, and in a manner of luxury the likes of which you have never known.”

My heart hammers in my chest, stubbornly refusing to be calm. “And when the nine months have passed?” I press.

“I will take you to the tear in the Veil on All Hallows’ Eve, and you will be free to leave Faery forever.”

I scrutinize the devastatingly beautiful fae prince with a wary gaze. “Is this a trick? It is said the fae never speak plainly, that you talk in riddles and tell half-truths. We mortals are warned from a young age never to enter into bargains with your kind because of it.”

“You mortals are a distrusting lot,” retorts Kyren with a languid smile. “But you are cannier than I gave you credit for, pretty bird. What is your name?”

“Never, ever, give your full name to the fae, or they will have control of you.” My grandmother’s wisdom echoes in my mind. Night terrors of stolen babes and missing souls flood back to me, heavy like an avalanche of snow. “You may call me Raven,” I answer as firmly as I’m able.

Kyren rises from his chair, sauntering across the chamber toward me with all the grace and confidence of a predator. “I desire a child, Raven,” he whispers. “And the child will remain here with me when you leave. Those are my terms.”

Eyes wide, my lips part, but I find myself speechless. Several breathless moments pass until I find my voice again. “And if I refuse?”

“I will let you free—back into Faery—to survive on your own. If you can.”

“I have already survived three months on my own,” I reply.

“Have you truly?”

I swallow the solid lump in my throat as I am reminded of the brutal truth of my situation. “You kept me safe this whole time.”

“Your efforts to get by have been most valiant; I will give you that. I wanted you to have a clear comparison in mind when I made my offer, so I thought it fitting to give you a thorough taste of what surviving on your own might be like,” he drawls. “But, yes, the shadow wolves answer to me. And were I to release you from my protection … well, I cannot help but wonder how well your humble ruin of a cottage might hold up against their hunger, then?”

“Are you threatening me?” I breathe, a flicker of cold fire burning in my chest.

“Hardly, my pretty bird. I am merely presenting you with a warning. Whether you choose to pay it any mind is entirely up to you.”

Glancing at the lavishly appointed royal chamber around me before settling on Kyren’s sharp-edged smile, I sigh. What choice do I have? “I accept,” I say, my heart desperately trying to escape its cage. Thankfully, unlike the fae, mortals can lie.

The winter prince’s smile is as delighted and cruel as it is unsettling. My insides squirm in response, and to my shame, the heat between my thighs only burns hotter. It is in this moment I realize that the confines of Kyren’s bedchamber might prove just as dangerous as the wilds of Faery.  Dear God. What have I done?

GRAB YOUR COPY OF RAVEN’S SOLSTICE, NOW!

If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!

Thank you once again for reading, and for your support! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter.
Until next time!

🌹💋 FIRST BLOOD: A Dark & Spicy Aussie MC Romance! 💋🌹

~ Faedra Rose ~ Leave a comment

BOOK SPOTLIGHT: FIRST BLOOD

Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read First Blood? (Book 1 of the Blood Brothers MC series) If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb, a spicy trope map, and an excerpt to capture your imagination!

BLURB:
Holly Maxwell has been waiting tables in outback pubs and dive bars for as long as she can remember. Never settling in one place, she’s a vagrant with dreams—until Roach Bane enters her world, swinging fists and smashing faces to defend her honor.
Swept off her feet by the heavily inked President of the Blood Brothers MC, she soon finds herself thrown head first into the murky waters of club life, organized crime, and rival clubs, set against the stark beauty of remote, rural Western Australia.

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EXCERPT:

Holly

The heavily inked biker with blue eyes, a dark, full beard and shaved head, barrels across the room, a juggernaut of a man. With wide shoulders and impressive guns, he destroys everything in his path like a bull in a China shop. He knocks the slimeball’s cronies flying from their chairs before they can even stand, then headbutts the skeezy prick who’s got hold of me.

I’ve never seen this guy in my life, but he’s coming to my rescue like I’m some sort of princess. As full-figured as I am, I’m only ever looked at like a piece of meat or an easy mark. I can’t possibly have any intrinsic value when I’ve got tits big enough to smother a man, and an ass that would make Sir Mix-A-Lot weep. This patched behemoth is the only one who’s ever stood up for me, and I’ve waited a lot of tables in a lot of bars.

In an instant I’m free, and the dirtbag falls to the floor like a sack of shit—knocked out cold. His mates scramble to their feet and launch themselves at my hero, but he’s undaunted, placing himself between them and me without a second thought. Their fists don’t even hit their intended target. My biker deflects their attacks as easily as if they were tantruming toddlers swatting at him with overtired, half-hearted swings.

Redirecting their weight, he seizes them both by the backs of their heads and smashes their faces together. The sickening crack of teeth, or a nose, rings out in the unnatural quiet that’s fallen over the Redrock Inn. There’s plenty of blood, and the goons wind up on the floor with their mate. I observe the mess, breathless, heart hammering in my chest.

“Anyone else want to dance?” he asks, only to be met with complete silence.

The pub manager—my manager, Harold—gives the biker a solid nod and turns the music back up. “Sarah, Kate, can you lend a hand out front?” he asks.

The two other waitresses hurry to clean up the broken glass and upturned furniture, while our patrons slowly return to their drinks and conversations. Just another day in an Aussie pub.

“Are you hurt?”

“Huh?” I blink, staring at the chaos. Strong hands give my upper arms a gentle squeeze, and suddenly those startling blue eyes are staring into my soul.

“Are you hurt?” he repeats, moving his grip to my wrist. Turning my hand over in his, he inspects for damage. “It’s going to bruise up,” he observes before lifting his gaze. “Can I get some ice over here?” he calls across the bar.

Harold scoops a handful of ice and wraps it up in a napkin, passing it over without a word.

“What’s your name?” the blue-eyed biker asks, applying the makeshift cold-pack to my inner wrist.

“It’s Holly,” I stammer, dragging my gaze from where our hands are touching, and back up to his rugged, but handsome face. “I’m sorry this happened. You shouldn’t have had to get involved.” I lick my lips, suddenly flustered and full of nerves.

“I’m Roach,” he says with the hint of a smile.

“Like a cockroach?” I ask, scrunching up my nose.

“I’m not easy to kill, love. Could probably survive the apocalypse truth be told.”

I swallow the urge to melt on the spot. His touch is electrifying! “Does that mean more than a few have tried?”

Roach smirks, moving the cold-pack to another tender spot. “I’ve lost count,” he admits casually. “But I have a good memory for faces, and I haven’t seen yours here before.”

I feel my cheeks flush with heat, and tuck a long red ringlet behind my ear self-consciously. “I, ah—I’ve only been here a couple of weeks. I tend to move around a lot. Wherever the work is, you know?”

“Well, Holly, it’s not in my nature to stand by when ladies are being abused. I have a code. All my men do. You don’t get to wear Blood Brothers colors if you have no honor.”

“Thank you,” I answer. “I’m grateful. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that before. You’re like a mountain with fists. Those guys stood no chance.”

Roach’s baby blues hold my gaze. “Then you can’t have met any good men,” he answers simply. “There’s a lot of shit out there on the road, giving our kind a bad name, but not all of us are tactless, small-dick hoons.”

I nearly choke on my own saliva at the mention of dick, and mask my awkward cough with a laugh. “I have heard small-dick energy is toxic,” I joke.

“They have too much to prove, love. It fucks with their heads. A real man knows where he stands in the world and who he is. His actions speak for him.”

“Well, then, you’re definitely one of the good guys,” I say with a grin, before averting my attention to my feet. I bite my lip.

“I don’t know about that,” Roach says. “I like to live outside of labels like that, myself. I’m no saint, but I ain’t no piece of shit either.”

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