Madness by J.L. Vallence

Madness

By J.L. Vallance

Blurb: 

I never wanted to fall in love.

I lived a life tainted by mental illness and the stigma that came with it. That illness almost claimed my life once and I had a promise to keep¬¬, a promise that I would live, no matter how much it hurt. All I craved in life was marginal happiness, a little success, and an unfractured mind. I longed for the normalcy that the rest of the world thrived on while fearing the intimacy that could snap the thin thread with which I held onto sanity.

I may not have had it all, but I was close...until he crashed into my world.

He turned everything upside down and shifted the scales of my balanced world. He was charming and charismatic with a healthy dash of trouble and volatility rolled in. He was completely and perfectly damaged. I tumbled hard and fast.

I fell in love with Rory O’Neill and our world was little more than madness....and it was fucking beautiful. 

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Excerpt

“What do you want from me, O’Neill?”

Rory released a heavy sigh, leaning back in the chair. He studied me carefully, as if he were attempting to solve a puzzle. He could try for the rest of his life; I was one jigsaw he’d never be able to solve.

“To date you,” he replied simply, and I belted out a laugh.

“Why?” I asked, continuing without allowing for an answer. “You are the type that goes on dates to get the prize at the end. You got the prize, buddy. You didn’t even have to work for it. If you are coming back because you think I’m a big skank-bank and you can get a withdrawal whenever you want, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

It was his turn to laugh. It was an erotic sound that put my already frayed nerves on a higher, more precarious edge than they had been. I followed his posture and leaned back, but instead of holding my stomach in gut busting laughter, I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Is that what you think this is?” he gasped. “Christ, I could have slept with at least seventy women since you.”

“Is that supposed to win me over?”

“Yes,” he answered seriously. “I have no problem picking women up.”

I didn’t doubt that. Hadn’t since the night I’d met him. It was the charisma, the mega-watt smile, the sultry sex-filled voice. His body, smile, voice, and touch promised a good night in the making if one simply took his hand.

I want to take his fucking hand. . .

“Good, then you won’t be alone tonight,” I replied, moving to rise from the table when he reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“I don’t want other women, Francesca. I want you,” he said, the smile missing from his face.

“I’ve wanted nothing but you since November.”

I shook my head.

“I’m not like other women, Mr. O’Neill.”

“Please, call me—”

“Rory, it doesn’t matter what I call you. The message will remain the same.”

“Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe that’s what I like about you?” he countered.

No, no I didn’t. Being different is what set me apart—in a bad way. That’s what makes people dislike me. Not that I mind that—being disliked. I’ve spent the majority of my life being different, being an outsider. I am the woman that I am, with the issues I have, and that fact will never change. I’m proud of the obstacles I have overcome and look forward to defeating the ones that are waiting in the wings.

“You don’t know me to know whether you like me or not,” I argued. My dad had always told me I’d be great for the debate team.

“I know what I felt with you.”

“You felt tequila,” I replied. “And my vagina. Go find some Cuervo and a willing participant and repeat.”

“First, I have a high tolerance. That tequila barely touched me. Quit trying to downplay what happened between us. Take a little responsibility.”

“Ha!” I belted, placing a hand over my mouth. “Listen, we had a really great time. But I don’t date, I don’t do romance or happily ever after. That’s not written in my stars.”

“What is written in your stars?” he asked with a quirk of the brow.

“A bright future with me, myself, and I.”

About the Author

J. L. Vallance is a wife, mom, and nurse by day, while posing as a writer by night. Plagued with an overactive imagination, a lover of all things supernatural in nature, she has an extraordinary flair for the dramatic that adds flavor to life. There’s little in her world that Otis Redding and buttercream icing can’t fix. And of course, coffee always helps too. True story.

             

Giveaway

One single anchor bracelet
One anchor and infinity bracelet
One anchor necklace with stamped pendant that says "You are my anchor".
One necklace with a gun charm and a stamped pendant that says "I keep a close watch on this of mine".
And two ecopies of Madness

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Madness By J.L. Vallance Cover Reveal Blitz

Madness

By J.L. Vallance

Blurb: 

I never wanted to fall in love.

I lived a life tainted by mental illness and the stigma that came with it. That illness almost claimed my life once and I had a promise to keep¬¬, a promise that I would live, no matter how much it hurt. All I craved in life was marginal happiness, a little success, and an unfractured mind. I longed for the normalcy that the rest of the world thrived on while fearing the intimacy that could snap the thin thread with which I held onto sanity.

I may not have had it all, but I was close...until he crashed into my world.

He turned everything upside down and shifted the scales of my balanced world. He was charming and charismatic with a healthy dash of trouble and volatility rolled in. He was completely and perfectly damaged. I tumbled hard and fast.

I fell in love with Rory O’Neill and our world was little more than madness....and it was fucking beautiful. 

Release Date:

September 2, 2014

Excerpt

I had all the time to fall in love.

I’d been blessed with more than ample amounts of opportunities to meet a good, stable, healthy man and settle into a blissful happiness. Never, in all my years of adulthood, especially after my break, had I wanted that. I was happy with my life the way it was--simple and ruled by my own wants and desires. I lived by my own failures and triumphs. The last thing I ever needed was the trauma that came with romance. I also didn't require validation.

Stupidly, I waited until the most unstable and volatile man in the state came into my life to decide that just maybe I should give romance a whirl. I was a moron for thinking I was falling in love with him--this man that was quite nearly a stranger. But that was exactly what was happening.

Lukas was strong, a superior on too many levels to keep track of. He was good to me, treated me with respect and adoration. But Rory, he was a different animal altogether. He was suffering, drowning in his own grief and illness that he couldn't see the life buzzing around him. He was the kind of animal I could easily recognize and associate with. I’d seen it in his face the night we met; it was the thing that drew me into him in the first place.

We were mutually damaged.

There was something in the way his eyes drew me in. They drank in every ounce, savored every last morsel, and they never held any judgment. They held fascination and wonderment; they burst with lust. But they never held pity. It’s been well over two years since anyone looked at me that way.

That’s what made me start to tumble--the way he could see me and accept me without condition.

About the Author

J. L. Vallance is a wife, mom, and nurse by day, while posing as a writer by night. Plagued with an overactive imagination, a lover of all things supernatural in nature, she has an extraordinary flair for the dramatic that adds flavor to life. There’s little in her world that Otis Redding and buttercream icing can’t fix. And of course, coffee always helps too. True story.

          

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Blood & Thunder (Thirds Series, Bk #2) By Charlie Cochet

Blood & Thunder

(Thirds Series, Bk #2)

by Charlie Cochet

Blurb: 

When a series of bombs go off in a Therian youth center, injuring members of THIRDS Team Destructive Delta, and causing a rift between agents Dexter J. Daley and Sloane Brodie, peace seems unattainable. Especially when a new and frightening group, the Order of Adrasteia, appears to always be a step ahead. With panic and intolerance spreading and streets becoming littered with the Order’s propaganda, hostility between Humans and Therians grows daily. Dex and Sloane, along with the rest of the team, are determined to take down the Order and restore peace, not to mention settle a personal score. But the deeper the team investigates the bombings, the more they believe there’s a more sinister motive than a desire to shed blood and spread chaos.

Discovering the frightful truth behind the Order’s intent forces Sloane to confront secrets from a past he thought he’d left behind for good, a past that could not only destroy him and his career, but also the reputation of the organization that made him all he is today. Now more than ever, Dex and Sloane need each other, and, along with trust, the strength of their bond will mean the difference between justice and all-out war.

Available for purchase at 

   

Excerpt

“Hobbs?”

Hobbs put a finger to his lips and cocked his head to one side. That’s when Dex heard it too. Faint sniffling. Hobbs walked to a medium sized toy chest filled with stuffed animals and got down on his knees. He picked up two bright bears with numbers on their tummies and smiled. Putting the bears on the floor, he tapped his name badge, his smile making wrinkles form at the corners of his green eyes as he held his gloved hand out. A second later, a small chubby hand slipped into Hobbs’s much larger one. A small boy with big brown eyes, an Iron Man T-shirt, and paint-spattered jeans stood up. He threw his arms around Hobbs.

Dex tapped his earpiece. “Sloane, we’ve got one more.”

“Copy that. I’ll send someone up.” Moments later, a Therian agent from Beta Ambush came running and Hobbs handed the boy over. With a nod, the agent was off, disappearing through the stairwell. Dex tapped his earpiece. “Sloane, agent Simmons is heading down with the last one. We’re going to do one last sweep of the floor, but I think we might be clear….” His voice trailed off when Hobbs stopped to study the vent up near the ceiling at the far end of the room. “Hobbs?”

“Dex? What’s going on?” Sloane asked.

Hobbs pulled off the vent screen, stood on his toes, and peeked in. The rest happened so fast, Dex barely had time to register what the hell was going on. Hobbs sped straight for Dex, shoving him so hard he went stumbling through the fire doors. The last thing he heard was the slam of metal and an explosion that shook the floor beneath him when he hit it.

Dex curled up on himself, arms thrown over his helmet as the blast reverberated around him, debris, ceiling panels, chunks of plaster, and brick falling on him, banging against his helmet as a cloud of heavy smoke and dust threatened to choke him. He rolled onto his side, coughing and hacking, his body covered in a layer of gray dust. When he inhaled, his lungs burned, and sitting up made him wince. His left thigh stung. Checking his leg, there was a long gash where a piece of something sharp had sliced through his tac pants, but lucky for him, it wasn’t deep. When his ears stopped ringing, he could hear Sloane shouting through his earpiece.

“Dex, goddamn it, answer me!”

“I’m okay,” he wheezed. “Are Simmons and the kid okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. The stairs are blocked. You’ll have to make your way down the stairs on the other side of the building. What the hell happened?”

“There was another bomb. We were about to sweep the area, when Hobbs—” Realization slammed into Dex’s chest, and he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. “Oh, god. Hobbs!”

Calvin’s anxious voice came over his earpiece. “What happened to Hobbs? Where is he?”

“That son of a bitch!” Dex slammed his fist into the wall. “He pushed me through the fire door. He… he stayed inside the classroom.” There was silence on the other end of his earpiece until Sloane spoke up.

“Can you see the room?”

Dex turned, cursing under his breath. “Negative. Part of the corridor collapsed in front of it.”

More silence, followed by Sloane’s quiet voice. “There’s nothing you can do. Get down here.”

Dex shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. No. That bastard was not dead. “Hobbs, if you’re in there, you better answer me, or I swear I will kick your ass.” One of the doors had been blown off its hinges and was lying like crumpled paper to one side; pieces from the corridor walls, cement blocks, bricks, and clusters of wires blocked the only way into what was left of the classroom. Live wires sparked, sizzled, and popped from somewhere to his right. Dex limped over to the debris. “Hobbs, answer me!”

“Dex….” Sloane began.

“He’s a tough bastard. He’s not dead,” Dex ground out angrily. “Hobbs, you answer me right fucking now!” He grabbed a piece of cement block and tossed it to one side, shoving and moving bricks. “Hobbs!” Through the silence, there was a low groan. “Hobbs?”

The softest gasp met Dex’s ears, followed by what Dex could have sworn was his name.

“I’m coming, buddy. You hang in there.”

“Negative. Dex get out of there,” Sloane ordered. “We don’t know how stable the building is.”

Dex shoved at a small pile of debris and thanked whoever was watching out for him. There was a tunnel large enough to get Hobbs through. “I found an opening. I can get him out.”

“That structure is unstable. You go in there, and you might not come out. Wait for backup,” Sloane ground out, his frustration becoming evident.

“There’s no time.” Dex pushed tentatively against the makeshift tunnel walls. “It’s stable.” For the most part.

“You don’t know that. Fall back, Agent, Daley. That’s an order!”

“I can’t leave him in there to die.” Dex got down on his stomach and crawled through the tunnel with caution, ignoring Sloane’s curses in his ear. His partner was going to tear him a new one, but Hobbs was alive, and if his friend was going to make it out of this, Dex would have to get him out now.

About the Author

Charlie Cochet is an author by day and artist by night. Always quick to succumb to the whispers of her wayward muse, no star is out of reach when following her passion. From Historical to Fantasy, Contemporary to Science Fiction, there’s bound to be plenty of mischief for her heroes to find themselves in, and plenty of romance, too!

Currently residing in South Florida, Charlie looks forward to migrating to a land where the weather includes seasons other than hot, hotter, and boy, it’s hot! When she isn't writing, she can usually be found reading, drawing, or watching movies. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers. 

You can find Charlie at 

               

“Five Weeks” (The Seven Series #3) By Dannika Dark Release Day Blitz

Five Weeks

(Seven Series, Bk #3)

By Dannika Dark 

Blurb:

Izzy has always loved the freedom and adventure of life on the road, but she’s recently decided to settle down—as much as a rogue wolf can. When her boyfriend gets her a job working at a hot Shifter bar, she runs into the last person on earth she expected to see again.

Jericho isn't the famous rock star he once was, though he still plays in a local band and loves to party. Beautiful women come and go, but music is his only passion—until a sassy redhead named Isabelle Monroe shows up unexpectedly.

Fate reunites two former friends living with one foot in the present and the other in the past. But will they have a future when one of them is forced to choose between life and death? Old habits die hard, and sometimes the toughest addictions to shake are the ones that control our hearts.

Available for purchase at 

      

Excerpt

“Chasing Sunrise (The Darkmore Saga: Book One)” By Lex Chase Release Day Blitz

Chasing Sunrise

(The Darkmore Saga, Bk 1)

by Lex Chase

Blurb:

On the Coastal Bend of Texas, a hidden kingdom called Darkmore lies in ruins, and King Sevon Maraté is trapped. Using Sevon as a mouthpiece and a scapegoat, Lord Dominic rules from the shadows. Born of royal verkolai blood and as beautiful as he is lethal, Sevon possesses the ability to part the Veil separating his world from hundreds of others. His gift is his chance to escape, but Dominic refuses to relinquish his tool for power. Dominic forges an ambitious plan to invade the prosperous land of Priagust. Only a select few know the mythic kingdom of shifters exists. Sevon is out of options for his people’s survival, and cooperating with Dominic is his only chance.

On their foray into Priagust, Dominic's men kidnap and interrogate a shifter named Jack. Even under torture, Jack's loyalty to his kind never wavers. But as Jack’s knowledge about Darkmore’s king and its history unsettles Sevon, a curious bond begins to form. Despite Sevon’s mistrust, Jack is determined to tame Sevon’s wild heart and perhaps earn his freedom. As invasion looms, Sevon wonders if trusting Jack will lead him into another trap or if he should forget about chasing the sunrise and remain Dominic's compliant prisoner.

Available for purchase at 

   

Excerpt

Jack shuddered against the cold bite of his shackles. The iron cuffs held him upright, and his arms were stretched tight over his head. Gravity pulled him sloping forward painfully against his bonds. His umber hair swayed in sweat-slicked strands and clung to his face. The humidity hung like milky fog visible against the gray stones. He could smell the herbal traces of algae glazing the walls. No moans, no cries for release, not even a rattled chain sounded throughout the dungeon. He deduced he was the only prisoner—or the only one currently living.

It had happened so fast. He was at the shoreline of the lake when two figures shot from the water. Shrouded in black, the demonic men yanked him into the lake. Jack had expected his end. But he didn’t expect a dungeon, and not just any, but Darkmore’s dungeon. He knew it as well as any ghost story. He had teased Sevon mercilessly for crossing his fingers and turning in a circle three times as he walked by the entrance.

Jack’s heart softened. Sevon, sweet Sevon. It had been exciting for Jack when he was a cub to have a special friend outside of Priagust. One who was not a shifter at all, but something different. He was Jack’s treasure, and he would guard their memory.

But the men had taken him and tossed him in this dank cell. It had to be a mistake. Darkmore was Priagust’s sworn protector. King Louis would never wrongfully imprison a shifter. Jack spit a speck of grit. Was Louis alive? Did he survive the storm? What of Anna Maria? Surely she’d know.

But Jack wasn’t sure. He had been just a child when he saw Louis die, and all childhood memories were fallible. He could only hope it was a misunderstanding. He squinted with the painful pull in his shoulders, and the realization sank in. This was far more than a mere misunderstanding.

Jack’s pupils flexed into pinpricks when the sound of distant footsteps announced someone’s approach. He jerked his chin toward the sound to get the first look at his host.

An ethereal, earthbound spirit drifted into the dungeon. Pale as Winter Mother’s snow and with a brilliant bloom of golden curls to rival Father Sun’s rays, the woman captivated him. Dressed in layers of the midnight sky and coal, her skirts swirled in a trail of goldfish fins behind her. The unusual ladybird settled at the cell door, tossing a lock of spun gold over her shoulder. She waited.

“What do they call you?” she coldly demanded.

A peculiar tenor tone in her voice made Jack choke on his breath. A man. The strange, colorful bird was a man.

By the way he glared at Jack as if he were of no consequence, Jack decided that whatever the case, he had to be on guard. Jack sniffed and mentally discerned a more masculine scent under the perfumed oils. But there were two masculine scents, this beautiful man’s and someone else’s. He licked the salt on his lip and smirked. He had nothing left to lose.

Jack lifted his head, and he panted against the searing pain in his back. He focused on the curious little meadowlark shrouded in flimsy frippery. He had never seen such an unusual hue of hair before, but he knew one thing for certain.

“You’re not the king,” Jack said.

Something came over the strange man as he quirked his thin brow in irritation. “Yes, I am the king,” he growled in warning. “Your name, creature.”

Jack evaded the question and changed the subject. “The king of Darkmore would never show a shifter such hostility,” he spat. “Go, little meadowlark. Fetch him, now. You are of no concern.”

The supposed king recoiled on his booted heel as if he had been burned.

“Excuse me, you maggot?” he growled and his temper flared.

Jack squinted at him. He looked so much like Anna Maria, as Jack remembered her. Perhaps her son? Perhaps Sevon? Jack swallowed. He had to keep it to himself. He had to find out what he was dealing with first, if he survived that long. He thought of his brother, Kaltag, back in Priagust, probably wondering where he was and if Jack was still staring over the lake, waiting for the day Sevon would appear.

Jack’s heart thumped.

“Louis is gone. I am the king now, and you will answer to me. My sources tell me you’re a spy from the shifter land of Priagust,” he said. The accusation did not bode well for Jack.

Jack took his stand against his captor. He strained against his shackles and grinned through the searing pain in his shoulder blades. “Your sources are clearly mistaken. I was only fishing when your men emerged from the lake and tried to drown me. Which—” He glanced around, and his shackles rattled. “This is some level of hell, correct?” Jack watched him, still puzzling his way through recollections. It wasn’t possible he was Sevon. Why would Sevon become this? He hissed a laugh and kept up a brave face. Jack turned his gaze up. He smirked when the king leaned away from the hammered iron bars of Jack’s cell in disgusted horror. “You are a very fussy bird. You’re no more than a chick, peeping for nourishment.”

“You will answer my questions, shifter…. Or you will be forced to answer them.”

“What kind of king do you think you are?” Jack asked. “Do you understand the scope of what you are doing by holding me like a criminal?”

“Pardon me for not rolling out the red carpet and most lovely courtesans,” he said sarcastically.

“A little bird that pecks. I like that.” Jack chuckled.

Crossing his willowy arms in irritation, the king nodded to the stocky dungeon guard.

The guard loped forward on his gnarled legs and slipped the heavy key in the iron padlock. With a protesting shrill, the bolt popped from its moorings with a loud echoing clank. The cell door swung open with an antiquated creak, and colorful bird of a man slipped into the cell.

Jack’s heart thumped, and his face heated. It was Sevon. His Sevon. He had never been so sure. In the twenty-two years between then and now, the boy Jack had so longed for no longer existed. Confusion swirled through him, but Jack had to keep it within. More parts of the puzzle would fall into place if he just gave it time.

His heart wouldn’t stop racing; all the while he maintained his arrogant grin.

“I’d curtsey, but as you can see, I’m a little tied up,” Jack apologized.

This new Sevon cocked his hip in irritation and snorted. “For a vicious animal, you don’t look like much.”

The term hit Jack hard, but he wouldn’t cower.

“Funny.” Jack chuckled. “For a king, you present yourself quite a bit like a whore.”

Before he could blink, Sevon was upon him. He yanked Jack by the scruff of his hair, tilting his neck painfully backward on its stalk to meet him eye to eye. Jack’s eyes rolled wildly to focus on the glacier blue of Sevon’s. His scent stabbed into Jack’s nose, jabbing cruelly into his brain. The delicate floral became an unrelenting assault on his mind and body. The damning confirmation sank into Jack’s stomach. It was a matter of survival not to show fascination or fear.

“Listen to me, you worthless shit-eating maggot!” Sevon snarled in his face. “You don’t get to call me a whore! Do you understand? I will leave you here to rot in this dank cell until even the rats find you too foul and putrescent. You will be thankful we don’t outright kill you. You will be appreciative of your accommodations.”

Sevon relaxed his grip and his harsh tone eased. “You will be eager to answer our questions. You will make yourself very helpful. Or I will have you skinned alive and your flesh made into jerky.” Sevon snorted a breath through his nose, and Jack’s hair fluttered. The beautiful blond man smiled like a content feline. “Now, do we have an understanding?”

Channeling the bravest parts of himself, and locking away the heartbreak, Jack laughed with a crooked, toothy grin. If this was the game, then he would play it until he was the last one standing. Finally, he had sorted the second male scent, and his thoughts sparked with devious delight. “Did I ruffle your feathers, meadowlark? Does the man whose scent you’re slathered in get to ruffle more than your feathers?”

Sevon shoved him away with a wail of disgust. Jack’s head bounced against his chest, and his manacles creaked at the added pressure. Sevon’s offended squeal was the only warning as a hard, echoing slap cracked across Jack’s cheek so forcefully that his vision blew out into whiteness for a moment.

With several flustered breaths, Sevon sharply pivoted and then stormed out of the cell. He nodded to the stocky guard. “Have him questioned about the nature of his people and land. I don’t care how you do it, or to what ends. Use any means necessary to milk him dry.”

The guard bobbed his head and bowed.

Turning back, Sevon regarded Jack one final time.

Jack noted the confusion mingled with a semblance of fascination. He forced a smile through his blood-tinged teeth. “See you soon, Your Majesty,” he purred.

Jack clung to a scrap of hope, and listened to the whispers of Sevon’s skirts as he left Jack in the darkness.

The rats chittered.

About the Author Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting too.
Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure and epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love. 
Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn't last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending.
Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine now residing in the burbs of Northwest Florida, where it could be 80F and she’d still be a popsicle. 
She is grateful for and humbled by all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them and welcomes feedback.


You can find Lex at

               

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Signed Paperback of Chasing Sunrise

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