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

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…

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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!

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Until next time!

First Blood: Teaser Excerpt

With June almost over, can I tempt you with a tasty teaser excerpt from this month’s release? First Blood is the first book in my all new, dark, and gritty Aussie outlaw MC series, Blood Brothers MC with Evernight Publishing! It’s a delicious, adventurous, and down right HOT two-hour read for when you don’t have the time or desire to dive into a tome of a book! Please read on, and if you enjoy, consider picking up your very own copy

ON SALE DIRECT FROM EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING UNTIL THE END OF JUNE! CLICK NOW & SAVE 25%!

Overview:
Blood Brothers MC, 1
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.
Be Warned: anal sex, fisting, sex toys, ménage sex (MFM)

TEASER 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.”

ON SALE DIRECT FROM EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING UNTIL THE END OF JUNE! CLICK NOW & SAVE 25%!

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Until next time!