Friday 31 July 2020

COVER REVEAL: Ruthless Empire by Rina Kent

The final installment of Royal Elite Series is coming on August 20.



She’s off limits. He has none.
There’s a girl.
Beautiful. Popular. Fake.
And my obsession.
My fall.
Probably my damnation.
Did that stop me? Do I care? No and no.
There’s a line between right and wrong. Moral and immoral.
And then there’s her.
I cross every limit with blood-coated fingers.
She says she hates me.
I say I hate her too as I trap her, own her.
Make her all mine.

This book is a complete standalone, but for better understanding of Royal Elite's world, it's advised to read the previous books in the series first.






Rina Kent is an international bestselling author of everything enemies to lovers romance.
Darkness is her playground, suspense is her best friend, and twists are her brain’s food. However, she likes to think she’s a romantic at heart in some way, so don’t kill her hopes just yet.
Her heroes are anti-heroes and villains because she was always the weirdo who fell in love with the guys no one roots for. Her books are sprinkled with a touch of mystery, a healthy dose of angst, a pinch of violence, and lots of intense passion.
Rina spends her private days in a peaceful town in North Africa daydreaming about the next plot idea or laughing like an evil mastermind when those ideas come together.
Don’t forget to Sign up to Rina Kent’s Newsletter for news about future releases and an exclusive gift.

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Most Popular Books Published In August 2020

Black Skies Riviera by Catherine Wiltcher - August 19th 2020

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Friday 24 July 2020

COVER REVEAL: Sinful Arrangement by M. Robinson

Sinful Arrangement 

By M. Robinson

Release Date: August 25


The sins of the father became those of the son.
Wrath for taking what was precious to me.
Greed for the lives that were mine to kill.
Sloth for the destruction against their will.
Lust for revenge and the blood I’d spill.
Gluttony for the souls I craved.
Envy for the spirits I had yet to take.
Pride for the birthright I’d soon fulfill.

One look.
One moment.
One girl.
She was all it took for me to lose my focus.
Sienna Luciano, my eighth deadly sin.

It was the end of me, but not my legacy.
It was only the beginning of...

El Diablo’s resurrection.
Allow me to introduce myself.
I’mCrucifixio Martinez.

  Preorder now!

Wall Street Journal & USA Today Bestselling Author M. Robinson loves her readers more than anything! They have given her the title of the ‘Queen of Angst.’

She loves to connect with her following through all her social media platforms and also through email! Please keep in touch in her reader group VIP on Facebook, if she’s not in there than she is on Instagram.

She lives in Brandon Fl with the love of her life, her lobster, and husband Bossman. They have two German shepherd mixes, a gordito Wheaten Terrier and a user Tabby cat. She is extremely close to her family, and when she isn’t living the cave life writing her epic love stories, she is spending money shopping. Anywhere and everywhere.

She loves reading and spending time with her family and friends whenever she can.

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Wednesday 15 July 2020

COVER REVEAL: Devrim's Court by Brianna Hale

Title: Devrim’s Court
Series: Court of Paravel, Book One
Author: Brianna Hale
Genre: Contemporary Steamy Romance
Release Date: July 28, 2020
Cover Design Credit: Maria @ Steamy Designs

I was imprisoned for twenty-seven years for the crime of defending my King. Now I’m a free man, and I rule the Court of Paravel once more. The lords and ladies, the debutantes, the great and the good of Paravel all answer to me.

And yet, social upstart Wraye Rugova is ruining my life.

Lady Wraye is attempting to use my daughter Aubrey as a springboard into the upper echelons of the court. When I find her in my house trying on Aubrey’s clothes, no amount of pleading will move my ironclad heart. Decades may have passed, but I remember how to punish a disobedient young lady.

She’s deceived everyone with ease, but now she’ll face the hardest ordeal of all. Devrim’s discipline.

This is going to sting.

Author’s note: This book contains a Daddy Dom relationship with a thirty-two-year age-gap.


There’s nothing Brianna Hale likes more than a large, stern alpha male with a super-protective and caring streak, and when she’s not writing about them she can usually be found with a book, a cocktail, planning her next trip to a beautiful location or attending the theatre. She believes that pink and empowerment aren’t mutually exclusive, and everyday adventures are possible. Brianna lives in London.


Tuesday 14 July 2020

Osne Sejerštad - JEDNA OD NAS

Izdavač - LAGUNA

Ova knjiga čeka da vam prenesem utiske već nekoliko meseci, ali s obzirom na sva dešavanja ove godine, moram priznati da se u poslednje vreme najviše družim sa Netflixom.
No, da se vratim na knjigu.

“Istakao je da čvrsto stojimo pri prvobitnom zaključku da su okolnosti u kojima Andeš živi u tolikoj meri loše da postoji ozbiljna opasnost od razvijanja mnogo ozbiljnijeg psihopatološkog poremećaja i ovim dopisom iznova potvrđujemo potrebu da se Andeš izmesti u drugačije životne uslove...” 

Verujem da ne postoji niko ko nije čuo za Andeša Brejvika koji je 22. jula 2011. godine ubio 77 ljudi. Ova knjiga govori upravo o tom dogadaju, o Bano kojoj je surovo život prekinut, o ostalim žrtvama, o Brejvikovom detinjstvu, kao i o suđenju. 

“Zar ne možemo bar malo da budemo zadovoljni onim što imamo?”

Brejvik je rastao kao dete u rasturenoj porodici, još kao mali bio je čudak koji je zlostavljao životinje i vršnjake, kad je porastao počeo je lepo da zarađuje prodajom lažnih diploma, nakon toga sledi povlačenje... posle znamo šta se dogodilo.
Uprkos predlozima da mu se pronađe novi dom, da se država umeša, do toga nije došlo.
Jedno dete je raslo u mržnji, a kad je porastao širio je svoj gnev prema migrantima gde god je mogao, ali pečat toga je sam udario. Želeo je čistu Evropu, belu (ako poznajete skandinavce, shvatićete da to toliko za njih i nije čudno ali mora da se zagrebe ispod površine, uglavnom sa par flaša vina).
Čitajući ovu knjigu, ja sam se zapitala da li je ovo moglo biti sprečeno. Moglo je da je država odreagovala na vreme i oduzela decu nestabilnoj i narcisoidnoj majci.
Iako znam šta je uradio i da apsolutno mirno spava, smatram da njegova savest nije mogla biti spašena, ali 77 života možda jeste. 

“Da li pogađaš ili znaš šta drugi misle?”
“Znam. Razlika je velika.”

On jeste u zatvoru ali s obzirom na to kakve sve povlastice ima, to što je lišen slobode i nije neka kazna. Mislim da je čovek (ako ga uopšte možemo tako nazvati) koji je zahtevao flaster dok su ga ispitivali u stanici, jer mu je nečija lobanja malo zakačila prst, zaslužio gore od 21 godine zatvorske kazne.
Dok su ona deca sa svojim snovima i željama nepravedno ubijena i sprečena da možda izrastu u neke mnogo dobre ljude.
I sve to zbog toga što je sistem napravio grešku, zatim se klupko odmotalo na prilično krvavu stazu.

“Budite ono što jeste. Inače vas niko neće slušati, a još manje vam pokloniti poverenje. To je najvažnije. Ne možete se pretvarati na duže staze."

5 zvezdica.

Friday 10 July 2020

CHAPTER REVEAL: Black Skies Riviera by Catherine Wiltcher

Title: Black Skies Riviera
Author: Catherine Wiltcher
Genre: Mafia Romance
Release Date: July 28, 2020

They call this place the Billionaires’ Playground.
I, Aiden Knight, staked my claim the minute I arrived.
I crossed every line.
I painted their Rococo ceilings with blood.
Now my casino is the hottest church in town,
And vice is the only confession required.
My house.
My rules.
Until the past comes calling with an offer I can’t refuse:
One week to seduce and break her.
All this for the name of the man who killed my father.
Issa Dubov is the queen of cloudy diamonds:
She’s a hard truth concealed beneath a pall of lies.
I’m an Armani black suit of spades:
Determined to bury both her and my demons.
I never asked to see the shape of her heart.
I never asked for her to fill the blank spaces of mine.
But the mafia wants her secrets.
I wasn’t the first she betrayed.
And Issa? Sweet, not-so-innocent Issa?
She’s gone and left me with a debt no sinner can pay.

PRE-ORDER LINKS – $2.99 for pre-order only!

Have you ever noticed how the mesh bits in lace look like the intersecting bars of a prison cell?
I did. Five minutes ago. As I was sat on the edge of a strange bed in a strange room, in a strange wedding dress, with a strange perfume smothering my senses like a designer rag.
My fingers won’t stop playing with the delicate trim on the bodice. It’s as if I’m trying to find a weakness in the yarn so I can plan my escape.
It’s beautiful.
Beautifully oppressive.
It’s a Dorian Gray mirror gone askew. The material is stupidly fussy and over-detailed, and it makes me look about twenty years older than I am. Still, at least it covers the bruises…
“Come, Ielena. The car is waiting for you.”
Marie enters the room clapping briskly, as if the force and sound will unchain my heavy heart from the bed and propel me to my feet. Her face is a painted mask of encouragement, but it reminds me of a colombina I bought in Venice once. The initial dazzle concealed the flaws. The cracks in the porcelain grew wider and more obvious as the truth clawed its way to the surface.
That was the day I learned that nothing is what it seems.
Marie’s claps grow louder in my ears. “Up! Up, lazy girl! What are you waiting for?”
A knight on a white horse?
A miracle?
Reluctantly, I stand for her inspection. I’m not sure when or how Marie first entered my father’s life, but her presence is more front-and-center than my mother's these days.
I loathe her.
She's brittle and calculating, and our relationship is a Ping-Pong match of mutual hostility. Unfortunately, since Karina disappeared, Marie’s winning most of the shots. She’s subtle about it, though. Her words are well-fed piranhas. They’ll take tiny bites here and there, leaving me stung and permanently unsettled.
She stops in front of me, a smoky swirl of coral-pink chiffon, and I brace myself for more teeth.
“Oh dear.” She casts a critical eye over my wedding dress. “Oh dear, oh dear… Still, it’s the best I could do at such short notice. You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get you something suitable in time.”
If she expects me to thank her for it, I’d rather choke on the lace.
Her assessment moves up to my face and she tuts out even more disapproval. “Good grief. Your make-up is abysmal. Antoinette!” Her maid appears in the doorway like a dutiful pet. “She needs less rouge on her cheeks. And that red lipstick is wrong. She looks like a whore, not a virgin bride.”
There goes my one shot at individuality.
Is this really happening? Has it really only been twenty-four hours since Papa announced I was to marry a man I’d never even met? A one-minute, formally worded deposition slotted in between his business meetings. He takes longer to peruse menus in restaurants.
Come to think of it, it’s the longest conversation we’ve ever had.
“Dressing table,” barks Marie, giving me a not so gentle shove in that direction.
Gritting my teeth, I allow myself to be ‘de-whored,’ by Antoinette. On the plus side, marriage means leaving Marie behind. Even she wouldn’t dare disrespect the wife of Luca Zaccaria…
I should have known she wouldn’t go out without a fanfare, though.
“I don’t see why we’re bothering with this charade,” she mutters, driving an extra pin into the base of my chignon and scraping my scalp on purpose.
“What do you mean?” I catch her eye in the mirror, instantly wary of the cruel green glint that I find there. “This is what my father expects of me.”
I’m rewarded with a cold smile for my curiosity. “I mean why go to so much trouble to look the part when the ceremony room will be empty.”
“But Signor Zaccaria’s family will be in attendance.”
I’ve read all about mafia families and the eight billion aunts, uncles and associated offspring who get wheeled out for occasions such as these. Kind of like a Bratva wedding when a sibling’s disgrace hasn’t double-booked the venue.
Her eyes widen for a beat, and then the chill in her smile drops a couple of hundred degrees. “What makes you think you’re marrying into La Famiglia, child? What makes you think you’re good enough for one of Zaccaria’s precious sons? Your sister has polluted you, like she’s polluted your father’s reputation, and today you will pay the price for her disgrace and his resurrection.”
My stomach lurches. She’s right. My father never actually confirmed who my groom was.
I assumed.
I just assumed.
“Who am I supposed to be marrying?” I whisper.
She shrugs, as if the detail is insignificant. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“I don’t believe you! He wouldn’t do this! Where’s Papa?” I rise to my feet, but her bony fingers clamp around my upper arm to stop me.
“Sit down, stupid girl.” I wince as her grip tightens; her coral pink nails digging crescents into my skin. “Your father has no desire to see you. He left for Paris an hour ago.”
My mouth snaps shut when I realize I’m gaping at her. “But he’s walking me down the aisle! I’m playing the role of the good Bratva daughter for him... The least he can do is guide me through the scene.”
“Be quiet!” Her mask cracks, just like my colombina did, but this time spite comes pouring out. “The only things accompanying you to that altar, child, are shame and solitude. You are all alone in this world now, Ielena. Your sister has deserted you, and your stupid mother is soaking your memory in gin.”
I have Maxim.
Please tell me I still have Maxim.
“Let go of me, Marie!”
“All alone,” she mouths back.
Shrugging her off, I sit back down at the dressing table. My hands are shaking as Antoinette pats away the last of the red Chanel before smoothing on a dash of Vaseline, and then painting my lips a pale mauve.
Even that seems wrong. I need a shot of color confidence to bring my fair skin and frozen expression back from the brink, not something that’ll fade me out even more.
I’m only a half-measure, remember?
An image from yesterday slams into my mind, one with raging battlements of contempt in his eyes.
Aiden Knight.
The man I couldn’t stop thinking about all of last night. The beautiful cruel memory who tempted my fingers between my thighs at the break of dawn.
What was it he said about me again?
“Stupid rich, bored, empty, unemployable, unsalvageable…”
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
Karina’s voice is in my head suddenly, telling me to hold on to my rainbow, no matter what. We made promises to each other the night she left. The kind you cross your hearts with, schoolgirl style, and keep until you die die die.
“Are you finished?” I catch Marie’s eye in the mirror and hold it. Screw her. Screw my father. They could marry me off to a beggar on the street and I’d still find a way to paint us gold.
She scoffs and nods.
“Good,” I say, firing back a Ping-Pong shot of my own.
I was right to feel that sense of satisfaction earlier. I’m not some little girl she can push around anymore. My new groom may not be Luca Zaccaria, but my father’s choice for me would have been tactical. He’ll be a man of standing in the criminal world.
“Good?” she mocks. “You won’t be saying that in an hour’s time.”
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
Without waiting for an answer, I rise to my feet and sashay from the room as elegantly as my badly fitted shoes—thanks again, Marie—will allow.
Heart pounding, I make my way down the elegant marble staircase, feeling like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind, but with the whole world, not Rhett Butler, declaring that they don’t give a damn about me anymore.
I reach the lobby to find the tall, stoic figure of my father’s Brigadier waiting for me. There’s another man standing there, too. He has his back turned, his black-suited shoulders blocking out most of the light from a nearby window. I’m so relieved to see Maxim I barely glance at him.
“You’re here!” I take the last couple of steps too fast and nearly lose my footing.
I knew he wouldn't abandon me as well.
He turns at my voice—eyes hooded, expression bleak. “Issa.” He catches me as I stumble into his arms. “Careful, zvezda moya.” He sets me right before sweeping his gaze downward. “Why, you look beautiful.”
“You’re the sweetest liar.” I step back to break his embrace, embarrassed by my lack of poise. What’s worse, there’s a masculine scent in the air that’s aiding and abetting that emotion, whipping up memories I’d rather forget. “Marie chose the dress so you can draw your own conclusions from that.”
“Tsch, Issa,” he chides. “She chose well.”
“Liar, twice over,” I say with a shy smile.
“She’s right, it’s hideous,” drawls a deep voice in perfect Russian. “But it’s nothing a bottle of Saint-Émilion couldn’t fix.”
All the damn colors.
The same man from the bar and my late night fantasies is smirking down at me, his cerulean-blue oceans churning with the same derision. My lungs stutter and lose function as I finally place the scent in the air.
“You,” I gasp out.
“Me,” he says flatly.
“W-what are you doing here?”
“My presence was requested so it’s a good job I had another suit to wear.”
I can’t seem to process his words. It’s not just the size of him that’s throwing me off kilter. Those oceans are shark-infested, and I’m the bloody bait.
My head swings to Maxim for answers, but the scars on his face offer me nothing so I find it swinging back to him. It’s magnetic. I couldn't stop it if I tried.
“Monsieur Knight,” I say, pulling myself together. “How lovely it is to see you again.”
He barks out a rough laugh. “You could strip paint with the acid in your voice, princess. Your insincerity is corrosive.”
“Who knew a gentleman could be so vulgar,” I counter quietly.
“Who knew you had the brains to come to that conclusion all by yourself.”
“Have you two met before?” Maxim looks confused, trapped here in our blazing crossfire.
Aiden Knight cocks his handsome head and grins at me, but his eyes are like chips of ice. “Let's just say we had a difference of opinion over some home truths and a bottle of red yesterday.”
Instantly, my heart is a drum and bass beat inside my chest. I hate how British men have the whole archetypal bastard thing down to a fine art. His accent is a poisoned arrow with a fin-shaped fletching of contempt. He’s dressed in black Armani again today, though he’s swapped the black dress shirt for white.
Colors. Colors. He wears them like a warning.
His necktie is a brilliant crimson, the same red as the lipstick I chose for myself until Marie instructed Antoinette to scrub it off. He’s stolen it. How dare he! I find myself hating him more for that than I do for his insults.
“Is it true Papa left for Paris an hour ago?”
I mean to direct it at Maxim, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from my nemesis. He’s coolness personified, with the kind of hard arrogance that hazardous men exude. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me either, as if I’m a cornered fox and he’s the Master of the Hunt.
“Why? Are you worried he took his credit card with him?”
"That's enough, Knight!" growls Maxim.
I blush right to my roots as my father’s confidante proceeds to curse in both French and Russian at my English invasion. It’s a bi-language of reproach, but Knight just shrugs it off. Clearly, his ninety-nine problems don't include Bratva Brigadiers who'd be more than happy to use his head as target practice.
Is this man completely impenetrable or just plain indifferent?
“Jesus, you talk a lot of shit, Maxim,” he says in a bored voice, cutting him off mid-flow. “If you’re quite finished, her chariot awaits.”
I watch him stalk through the open front door, down the stone steps and into one of the waiting Escalades without so much as a backward glance at me.
Who is this vile, rude, arrogant man?
I meet Maxim’s heavy stare with unspoken questions in my eyes. “Marie told me I’m not betrothed to Luca Zaccaria anymore.”
“No, zvezda moya.”
“Then, who?”
“Please, Maxim,” I beg. “If our friendship means anything, I need you to be straight with me. Who the hell am I marrying today?"
My only ally in this world curses and swipes a hand across his jaw. It’s as if he's disinfecting his next words for an unclean revelation. I then watch in mounting, escalating, soul-crushing horror as his gaze shifts to the vehicles outside. Or rather, to one in particular...
© Catherine Wiltcher 2020

Catherine Wiltcher is a bestselling author of ten dark romance novels, a former TV producer, and a self-confessed alpha addict. Her writing is best described as sinfully sexy, and her characters always fall hard and deep for one another.

She lives in the UK with her husband and two young daughters. If she ever found herself stranded on a desert island, she'd like a large pink gin to keep her company. Cillian Murphy wouldn't be a bad shout either…
For book and blog updates, please visit