*Book Tour & Giveaway* The Protection Agreement

 

He was hired to be her shield, but he never expected she’d be the one to pierce his heart.

The Protection Agreement

The Agreement Series Book 4

by A Akinosho

Genre: Age Gap Billionaire Bodyguard Romance

Duty or desire—he’s sworn to keep her alive.
But staying close blurs the line.

When a threat puts her life in danger, there’s only one man capable of protecting her—a ruthless bodyguard with a fearsome reputation and loyalty carved into his bones. The problem? His family and hers are sworn enemies. And he learned to hate her last name long before he ever knew her.

This is duty.
A contract.
Nothing more.

Shared space. Constant protection.
No attachment. No temptation.

Forced proximity turns restraint into tension. Hatred softens. Awareness sharpens. Desire becomes impossible to ignore.
She’s a damsel in distress who refuses to be fragile. He’s a possessive protector bound by duty, fighting feelings he has no right to claim. Every glance is forbidden. Every moment together is a betrayal written in silence.

As enemies close in and pressure mounts, distance becomes impossible.

Because the longer he stands between her and danger, the harder it is to remember where duty ends—and desire begins.

He was sworn to keep her alive.
He just wasn’t prepared for what it would cost him.

Touch her… and die?

 

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Bruce

Lexi returns from her room and takes the seat next to me.  I’ve concluded that we are fighting a losing battle. It’s just a matter of time before the attraction between us takes over and its fiery flame burns through us. We are quiet, our eyes are trained on the movie even as I’m provocatively attune to her presence, her allure is seeping into every nook and cranny of my being.   It doesn’t take long before she leans into me. I don’t move out of her reach. She’s soft and warm in my arms and my whole being is responding to her closeness. I need to get her in bed.  I move her head from my shoulder.

“Hmm,” she groans. “Kiss me, Bruce,” she whispers. I pause for a moment, convinced I didn’t hear her. 

“What did you say?” I ask, betting she doesn’t realize what she asked of me. 

“Kiss me, Bruce,” she says, her voice barely audible. “I want you to kiss me. I took my meds.“  A chuckle escapes her “Be aware that I may not remember in the morning, so make it good so I can dream of you.” She grins, though a bit out of it. 

I want her to remember, and I shouldn’t grant her request, but I’ve been dying to kiss her, so who am I to deny her request especially when she wants to dream of me. I shift positions so she’s on her back and I kiss her lips gently and she opens her mouth to let me in. I kiss her with the fervor of a starved man that I am. Her tongue swirls sweetly with mine. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer and deeper to her. My tongue is seeking every inch of her mouth, my body is intensely aroused. A soft moan escapes her, it sends a charge through my body.

I can probably make love to her now and she wouldn’t stop me, but I also want her sober and consenting plus I want her to always remember us, every touch, every kiss and every thrust of me inside her. I slowly pull away. Breaking the sweet feel of our kiss.

 Fuck, I just kissed Jonah’s girl and I fucking like it.

She smiles. “Goodnight, Bruce.”

She turns to her side and sleeps like she didn’t just break through every resistance shield of mine. I sigh because looking at her, I want more. I feel it in the blood thumping in my veins. My ragged breath that I fucking need to control. My hands running through my hair in exasperation of what I’ve just done. I know there’s no going back now.

 Leaning down, I lift her in my arms. She giggles like a little girl. I should leave her in her room, but I’ve a need for her closeness, I can’t explain or control.  I move slowly with her asleep in my arms and place her gently in my bed. She curls to her side and sleeps off. I sit on the bed for a moment watching her, “she can’t leave” the voice that slams in my head. Just as Declan’s words a while ago “when you kiss the one, you never want another” I feel the weight of what I’ve done. Kissed the one but she belongs to another man and not just any man. A man that hates my guts, paid me to keep her safe and sternly warned me not to touch her. I now know why, he made that request because he knows once I did.

He and I would be at war. Yet I find myself willing to go to war for her. Damn it

I move closer and kiss her temple, my palm gently touching her face. A giggle escapes her and I wonder if she’s dreaming of me.  I cover her and get off the bed. I go into the bathroom to shower and relieve the monster awakening between my legs. I get temporary relief. Wrapping my towel around my waist. I peep to check on her. She’s knocked out. I put sleeping pants on and get in bed with her, pulling her into my arms and she doesn’t resist. 

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A. Akinosho lives in her own little nest in Illinois. An avid reader and enjoy reading thrillers, suspense and romance novels (partial to romance genre). When, She’s not reading or keeping up with life. She enjoys writing and creating twist to stories. She loves writing about diverse characters, friendship and overcoming challenges through, what is perceived as a weakness.

 

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*Release Blitz* Nearly Werewolves

 

Title: Nearly Werewolves

Author: Harper A. Brooks

Genre: NA Urban Fantasy

Cover Designer: Covers by Christian

Publication Date: April 25, 2026

Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Blurb: 

They say a werewolf’s first shift is like a meeting of two souls.

I wouldn’t know.

The moon never called to me. Moonlocked, they call it—a were without a wolf. No bite, no claws, no strength. As a pureborn werewolf, daughter of the alpha, I’ve kept that shameful secret buried from everyone.

Except Grayson. He knows the real me.

He wasn’t born a were. He was bitten and turned, so we both know what it’s like to not really fit in. But when he gets sick with moon madness, his only hope is a powerful shaman who might know the cure.

To make matters worse, the packs have hired a hunter to track down all the moon-mad wolves and eliminate them before the disease spreads any further.

And Grayson is next on his list.

To save my friend and the rest of my kind, I’ll have to find a way to unlock the beast inside me. But what if, in the end, I’m the true monster everyone should be running from?

NOW LIVE & AVAILABLE ON KU!

Harper A. Brooks lives in a small town on the New Jersey shore. Even though classic authors have always filled her bookshelves, she finds her writing muse drawn to the dark, magical, and romantic. But when she isn't creating entire worlds with sexy shifters or legendary love stories, you can find her either with a good cup of coffee in hand or at home snuggling with her furry, four-legged son, Sammy.

She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance.

RONE Award Winner

USA TODAY Bestselling Author

International Bestselling Author

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*Book Blitz & Giveaway* Stay at Castle Dracula

 

I can scare and thrill you in only...100 words!

Stay at Castle Dracula…and Other Short-Short Stories

by Jim Nemeth

Genre: Horror Short Stories

Do you enjoy a good drabble? No, not America’s most popular word game—that’s Scrabble. No, not those cute, furry little creatures from Star Trek—those are tribbles. A drabble is a form of intense fiction writing consisting of 100 words. Not 100 chapters, not 100 paragraphs, nor even 100 lines. 100 words. Exactly.

 Author Jim Nemeth loves the format and is an accomplished dabbler in drabbles. “Whenever I explain to friends what a drabble is,” Nemeth relates, “I get the exact same expression of disbelief: ‘100 words?’ In fact, I took these reactions and wrote a drabble about it, “Impossible Assignment,” which leads off the collection.”

Stay at Castle Dracula and Other Short-Short Stories, a chapbook, collects 26 tales, 23 of which are drabbles. With the three other stories, the author “splurged” and indulged himself with an additional 100-200 words.

Other tales of five score words include “Disgruntled,” where a joyous family Christmas celebration turns horrific when a little boy doesn’t get the toy he wanted; “Love Potion” relates what happens when a witch’s magic works too well. And in the title story, another young English traveler debates his decision in staying in Count Dracula’s centuries’ old castle.

 

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It’s What’s Inside That Counts

“Why does Christy have to come over to play,” six-year-old Chloe asked in the petulant voice in which she exceled. “She’s ugly and I hate her!”

“Chloe!” the girl’s father shouted in reprimand. “Don’t talk like that. Christy may not be the prettiest of girls, but ‘beauty is only skin deep,’ as they say. It’s what’s inside a person that counts.”

Later that afternoon in her room, Chloe lay aside the dripping, red-drenched scissors with which she’d used to slice open Christy’s midsection. Closely examining its contents, she frowned in confusion. “I don’t see what’s so special about her insides…”

In 1993, Nemeth won first prize in a national magazine’s short story writing contest for which legendary authors Ray Bradbury and Robert Bloch were judges. The award held special meaning for Nemeth, as Bloch remains his favorite writer and main literary influence. Nemeth is the author of two additional books: It Came From...The Stories and Novels Behind Classic Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction Films and Robert Bloch: An Unconventional Bibliography, as well as being the webmaster of The Robert Bloch Official Website (robertbloch.net).

A long-time community activist, the author is particularly committed to the cause of animal rescue. He lives in the historic harbor town of Marblehead, MA.

 

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*Release Blitz* Those Ruthless Fates

     

Title: Those Ruthless Fates (Star Kissed: Book Three)

Author: Cameo Renae

Genre: NA Dark Fantasy Romance

Cover Designer: Covers by Christian

Publication Date: April 18, 2026

Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Blurb: 

The Fates trials have begun.

The bewitched island welcomes six new contestants to endure deadly trials in a fight to the death where only one will survive.

Forced into the event by jealous, power-hungry royals, Elara faces five other contestants, each possessing potent elemental abilities. Unfortunately, Elara is at a significant disadvantage. Her powers are bound with no way to release them, and she’s been poisoned by the prince’s fiancé.

Racing against time and fighting for her life, Elara must find a way to defeat her opponents while her enemies gloat... and await her imminent demise.

NOW LIVE & AVAILABLE ON KU!

Cameo was born in San Francisco, raised in Maui, Hawaii, and now resides with her husband in Las Vegas. She is a dreamer and caffeine addict who loves to laugh and loves to read to escape reality.

 

One of her greatest satisfactions is creating fantasy worlds filled with adventure and romance. It is the love and incredible support of her family and fans that keeps her going. One day she hopes to uncover a magic wardrobe and ride away on a unicorn. Until then . . . she'll keep writing!

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*Book Tour & Giveaway* Crimson Empire: Broadswords over England

 

If you're a fan of Outlander, and now want a visceral, more realistic telling of the 1745 Jacobite Uprising, devoid of all the incessant romanticism, you will enjoy this new series!

Broadswords Over England

Crimson Empire Book 1

by James Mace

Genre: Historical Fiction

In 1745, Charles Edward Stuart, claimant prince to the unified thrones of England and Scotland, leads one final uprising to seize the crown for his father, James Edward Stuart. This is the third attempt by James’ followers, known as the Jacobites, to depose the ruling dynasty and restore the House of Stuart.

Though most Jacobites come from the Scottish Highlands, English, Scots, Welsh, and Irish alike fight for both sides, with few caring who occupies the throne. For many Scots, it is a clan war, a chance to settle centuries’ old scores. For others, it is a civil war, with red-jacketed soldiers compelled to fight their plaid wearing fathers, brothers, or sons on the opposing side.

“The ’45,” as it is referred, is a dark chapter from a merciless age. The fate of the burgeoning British Empire, and that of the Highland people, will be settled in a crucible of cannon, musket, bayonet, and broadsword, all wrought with ruthless fury. Many combatants and innocents alike shall grievously suffer in its wake, with only the faintest glints of humanity. This is their story.

 

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Though they could not yet see the enemy, the Recoat defenders could certainly hear them. In the faint glow of torch and starlight, they saw what looked to be a pair of barrels, overflowing with God knew what, being heaved against the sally port entrance.

“They’re going to try and burn the sodding door,” Lewis whispered with a disbelieving grin.

“I’ll sort that,” Molloy replied. “You give them a proper reception once they light the barrels.”

The sergeant then hastened along the western rampart until he found his lone sentry. He ordered the man to bring up water from the kitchen, as much as he could carry. He then raced across the courtyard and gave the same order to the other sentry before returning to the north wall.

Crouching low, he stared through one of the firing ports. He could see the shapes of men shuffling around the barrels, which as best he could tell were a couple of feet from the door. They scraped loudly across the gravel. To his left, Molloy saw the two privates returning with a pair of water buckets each. They hunkered low behind the parapet, near Corporal Lewis. The young NCO held his musket ready as he saw the sparks coming from the enemy’s flint and steel. A small fire soon started. It quickly grew, taking hold of some dry straw and kindling.

“Now,” the corporal said calmly as he shouldered his weapon.

As eight muskets unleashed a close range salvo, they could only clearly see the man who’d sparked the flames. The dense smoke clouded the vision of the Redcoats, who hastily began to reload. From his position, Sergeant Molloy could see the effects. The Jacobite visible in the burning light was struck at least three times, through the guts and neck. Doubling over, he pitched forward, nearly upsetting the other barrel. Molloy saw the shape of another man clutching at his shoulder before stumbling away.

The sounds of musketry from at least two score of enemy fighters flashed and echoed in the dark, peppering the ramparts.

“Easy, lads,” Molloy said. “They can’t hit a fucking thing so long as you use the firing ports, and only when ready to fire.”

At Corporal Lewis’ command, all but one of the Redcoats loosed another volley. This man complained about not being able to see a thing and thus stood to peer over the rampart.

“God damn it, Private Thomas!” Sergeant Molloy snapped. “Get your fucking head down—”

He was interrupted by an even more intense return of musket fire from their enemies. Most shots smacked harmlessly into the wall or sailed over the ramparts. One, however, struck the errant private in the head. He stood rigid for a moment before his convulsing body tumbled into the courtyard below.

“Tommy!” one of his mates cried out, starting to stand.

“Get back to your post!” Molloy snapped, rushing over to the young man at a low crouch and cuffing him across the head. “There’s nothing you can do for him. He’s dead because of his stupid negligence. Now keep your fucking head down and reload your damn firelock!”

As the barrels started to blaze, the two privates bearing water buckets upended these over the rampart, all the while keeping low behind the defences. Within seconds, the fire was completely extinguished and the Redcoats let out a cheer.

Molloy crept over to Corporal Lewis, who’d just finished reloading his musket.

“You have this situation under control,” the sergeant said. He nodded to the water bearers. “I’ll take these two and head for the south wall.”

In the distance, the Jacobite musketry continued, albeit in diminished numbers, with no coordination.

“They won’t be getting in this way,” Lewis confirmed before issuing the command for his men to fire once more.

He knew their chances of hitting their enemy in the dark were slim. Still, this gave his soldiers, especially the newest ones who’d only been with the army a few months, a chance to practice their musketry drills while under fire.

Sergeant Molloy ordered the water bearers to follow him, along with two more privates, before descending the steps and crossing over to the south rampart at a brisk walk. This left Corporal Lewis with five men to hold the rear entrance. Their enemy may have numbered in the hundreds, yet their one attempt at breaching the rear entrance had proven as pathetic as it was foolish.

The crack of musket shots came from the three men dispersed along the south rampart. Upon ascending the steps, Molloy could just make out an enemy combatant lying face down along the steep path leading into the fort.

“They’re trying to bring up a ladder, Sergeant,” one of the men explained. This was an older private in his late twenties, who Molloy trusted to keep his mates from shooting at mere shadows.

“Only one ladder,” the sergeant replied, shaking his head in amusement.

“What’s more, the path is too steep,” the private said. “They can’t even carry the damn thing up to the wall! And with the rain soaking the grassy slopes on the flanks, it’s too damned slippery. They won’t be coming up that way.”

“Splendid,” Molloy said.

His four accompanying soldiers took up positions at various firing ports. He then ordered them to reload but wait for his command to fire. He then checked his watch. It was nearly 3:30 in the morning. While the sun would not rise for nearlyan hour, the faint glow of predawn now made it easy to spot their enemy. He counted at least a hundred gathered in a column about a hundred yards away. It was they who bore the lone ladder. Pops of musket fire from frustrated Jacobites came from both these men and several clusters along the western base of the hill.

Molloy ordered a volley fired at the ladder group, as they were closest. While waiting for the smoke to clear, and his men to reload their muskets, he hastened over to the eastern wall, where he saw not a single enemy fighter. Returning to his men, they fired another pair of volleys. Several Jacobites had fallen, only to be abandoned by their companions, who fled back down the path to return to their camp.

It was then that the sergeant stood. He ordered his men to remain hidden, lest they give away their true strength to the enemy.

“Three cheers for His Majesty, King George!” Molloy shouted, removing his hat.

James Mace is an author, historian, and life-long storyteller. He began writing as a hobby in the early 2000s, penning physical fitness articles for a bodybuilding website and a magazine called Hardcore Muscle.

James wrote the initial draft of his first novel, Soldier of Rome: The Legionary, as a cathartic means of escapism while serving in Iraq from 2004 to 2005. He has since released thirty-seven books, including fifteen Ancient History best-sellers, and five South African History best-sellers. His works currently span his two favourite eras: Ancient Rome and the British Empire.

Outside of writing historical novels, James is a Research Historian and Script Writer for the channel, Redcoat History. He maintains a blog called The Buffed Historian, sharing random fitness articles and other tales from across history. His hobbies include weightlifting, road cycling, foothills hikes, travelling across the globe, live theatre, video games, and sitting down for a game of Dungeons & Dragons with friends.

 

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*Pre-release Tour & Giveaway* The Book of Wands

 

The cards await, ready to unveil their secrets. 

Are you prepared to witness their magic?

The Book of Wands

The Tarot Series Book  1

by Lauren Louise Hazel

Genre: YA Academy, Urban Fantasy

The cards await, ready to unveil their secrets. Are you prepared to witness their magic?

Olivia Pembroke is in her final year of The School of Wands, where she will vie against her friends and rivals for qualification in The Final Judgment. Designed to be the ultimate test of Intelligence, Strength, Creativity and Courage, The Final Judgment is set by a mysterious figure called Rasmus, who is wrapped in secrets.

Olivia has no doubt she is going to win and claim victory and pride for her family. That is, until her grandmother dies, and leaves her with her old Tarot Deck, which she claimed could see Past, Present and Future…

 

**Releases July 2026 – PreOrder Now!**

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PROLOGUE 

 

Olivia’s head was bowed, and her neck straining in its awkward position. She had plaited her hair neatly, in a half-crown at the top of her head, at her mother’s insistence. Olivia was already regretting the decision. The weather was drizzling, the mist cool on her flushed skin, but she had no protection from its light drops. 

Nor did she have any shield from the flurry of mourners. 

Her mother was standing at the front, clad in a black suit and skirt and black boots. Her face, starting to line with age, was stone cold and remote. Her father was standing at her side, and like Olivia, he was looking at the floor. He looked hunched and strangely small. 

The casket, black and shiny, was lowered slowly into the ground. 

The priest was speaking, but his words were wrong. He was talking about Olivia’s grandmother like someone who had never met her before; he called her a bright and radiant light, kind and gentle and generous. She had not been any of those things, but Olivia had loved her anyway. She had been strong and resilient and a force of nature. She had advocated for Olivia when nobody else had – attending every school event when her parents could not. Her grandmother had stayed at the Pembroke Estate with her while her parents were travelling for work, assisting with schoolwork and answering Olivia’s many questions. She was always supportive and never judging. She always made time for her.

But now she was gone…

And Olivia had never felt so alone. The distance between her and parents was like a chasm, so far and almost unbreachable. Olivia blamed them for their part in her grandmother’s death – for all that they had done to her – and it was a thought, a feeling, that she could not shake. If they had not sent her away, maybe she’d alive... maybe she would still be with Olivia. She did not know what to do now. 

How could her grandmother leave her? She didn’t understand. What had seen done wrong? Olivia wanted to cry, the conflicting emotions bubbling beneath her skin. She felt trapped, like she was suffocating under a black cloud that only she could see.

After all, her mother was always watching – as soon as the thought crossed Olivia’s mind, her mother turned towards her, reaching, as though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Olivia swallowed and backed away. 

“Don’t let this distract you, Olivia,” said her mother, her quiet voice loud in the oppressive silence. Olivia jerked slightly, unable to suppress the flinch. She did not reply.

Her mother barrelled on. “This is the most important year for you,” she continued, oblivious to Olivia’s thoughts and feelings, as always. “You could achieve anything.”

            In that moment, Olivia did not care.

Her grandmother was not coming back. 

 

Lauren Louise Hazel is a Cyber Security Manager by day and writes YA fantasy by night. She has one annoying brother and younger sister. As she was growing up, the only item her dad would buy her without demanding her pocket money was books. He’s hoping the writing is successful so he can get a Ferrari!

Some of Lauren’s favourite books and influences include the classics – like Lord of the Rings and The Hunger Games – and anything by Haruki Murakami and GRR Martin.

 

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