A new job, a new city, and hopefully a new life.
An accidental meeting, a misunderstanding, and falling in love. When Oliver and Jaime end up at the same bar at the same time, they each see something they want in the other. Going to bed together that first night is easy. Building the lifetime relationship they both desperately crave will require trust, time, and a little misunderstanding.
Ebook and Print - Self published - Novella
TBR Reviewer: B.H (Brutally Honest)
Spoon-fed Addiction is a psychological/transgressive fiction novella detailing the last moments in the life of Adiran P. Battlefield, a young, seemingly apathetic yet charismatic drug dealer. It is a story about love, loss, revenge and pain, which takes the audience on a front seat ride through the darkest places of the protagonist's mind. Allowing the reader a glimpse into an almost familiar world, dreams soon become nightmares, plans become failures and flawed perceptions of reality give way to horrible consequences.
This is the story of Adiran's last night alive and the impact he had on those he left behind.
This is all about the life and death of Adiran Battlefield.
The very beginning doesn’t pull me in. We’re thrown into the middle of a diary entry by a female that simple rambles. Already the pace is concerning me. Very slow moving. I’d say skip the ‘diary entry’.
The story is weighed down. There’s a lot of trailing on one subject that simply hinders the story. I feel like I’m reading a male teenagers journal, not a good thing.
The grammar wasn’t bad, some parts reverted to present tense instead of past which can be a jolt. I do have to admit his writing style does show promise. Maybe future writings by Mr. Williams will be on my TBR pile if he changes his plot. I think he needs to stick with stories that will engage the reader more.
Excerpt of 'Spoon-Fed Addiction'
“Society is a filthy animal, kid,” were the last words my mother said to me. She said them with the unfaltering assurance of someone who’d seen a clear path into the future. It was a hard pill to swallow, since everything she’d ever said to me always felt like bullshit.
Having witnessed her quick degradation of health transform her into the dried sack of wrinkled leathery skin she’d become should’ve been my wake up call. However, the reality is that back then, even on the eve of her disappearance into the sewers of the city, I cared very little for her or her cryptic messages. She awarded me that token of wisdom six months before her inevitable death and I’d focused instead on the unfairness of fate as she forced me to ponder where in fuck I was supposed to live and still be able to finish high school alongside my friends.
That had been the shittiest year of my life, or so I thought until tonight.
Oh, today was just another day. Nothing too exciting happened. I guess if it weren’t for the few friends I had, I would’ve ended my life a long time ago.
I am alone now, but that’s okay. I have found peace within myself. It’s so silent yet so loud, like a noise in the night. I sense it as if I could hear it but it fades away when I reach out for it.
What went on inside my head? I just don’t know anymore.
Everything I’ve ever done has been so contradictory to what I need it hurts just thinking about it. I think it’s because I had problems. Everyone has problems—I know this—everything from forgetting to feed the dog to forgetting the bills are past due. Those are problems, don’t get me wrong, but when someone enters a certain state of mind, it all becomes obsolete.
I can see my epitaph now, Here lies Adiran “The Puppet” Battlefield. 20 years of wasted space and soiled dreams. May he lie crisply in Hell.
Yes, it is all because of the fear and acceptance of death. There is a rush of feelings that flood you when you know you are about to die; somewhat similar to knowing you are about to get laid. I guess they call that anticipation.
My love lay in bed, dressed only with lilac satin panties, covering herself with a feather blanket just to tease me. She waited for my loving embrace, anxious to open her delicious gates to Hell for me to enter.
How I wish I could now spread wings and fly. I wish even harder that when look beside me, I’ll see her there, the love of my life. I’ll see her flying graciously, so swift, so free! Then I’ll fall back to land on her nest of warmth and simply watch her in childish awe. In my faithless world, she’d been my Goddess. In the real world, she was dead.
My dead angel, Veronica; her death was my fault. I had convinced myself she had wings. I thought she could fly, so I pushed her over a building’s edge and she flew straight to the ground. My poor angel flew ten stories to kiss the pavement down below.
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Genre: Urban Fantasy - paranormal
Ebook - Evernight Publishing - Novel
TBR Reviewer - B.H (Brutally Honest)
A Centennial City Novel
All Eve Faulkner wants to do is forget that she’s a Kumiho and live her life the way she sees fit. As a supernatural arbitrator, she considers her life to be chaotic enough without having to worry about keeping her identity a secret.
Unfortunately for her, a supposed “easy” job goes horribly wrong and a close colleague almost dies. Fired from her job, and a virtual pariah, the only person who’ll hire her now is one of the High Vampires of Centennial City, Vincent Sheridan, who wants nothing more than to jump her bones.
In between having her secret discovered by a sadistic alpha of the Were pack who seeks to use her, and finding out who’s killing people in the city sewers, Eve will come to grips with her reality and finally make peace with the person she is and will become.
I admit, I’m a HUGE vampire fan. I love True Blood, Interview with the Vampire and any book about vampire’s are usually on my ‘to be read’ list. When I read the blurb, I instantly wanted to read it.
The action is well written and she explains the complication that comes with a paranormal book without leading to an information dump. I love the reference to Rob Zombie as I’m a fan. By chapter four, I was loving Eve. She’s got such a great personality that really shines through with Ms. Jameson’s writing. As the story continues and Eve meets Vincent, I could not put this book down!
I began reading in bed and forgot the whole getting up early for work thing. She really tells an engrossing, almost addicting story. I laughed, I bit my nails off, and I practically drooled! Vincent, master vampire, what can I say about him? Oh my and yummy. Then there’s sexy, tortured Ryder and the mysterious Van. I’d like one of each pretty please!
Then there’s the romance, why oh why, didn’t she steam things up. I wouldn’t even consider this erotic, it was to Tame and that would normally bring the rating down. However, the story was so good I’m ignoring that fact and hoping she adds more fire into the next book. I really hope there is another book with these characters. I cannot wait to read more about Centennial City!
Her style reminds me of Laurell K Hamilton and the Anita Blake series without the heat. I am a fan of Ms. Jameson after reading Blood Wish. I recommend this book without a single doubt.
Excerpt of 'Blood Wish'
“You must help us. There are not many who understand the darkness as well as you do, Eve Faulkner.”
A vampire didn’t often ask for help. But hey, even the denizens of the night need help with contracts sometimes.
As a negotiator for the preternatural, I’m both lawyer and hunter. Lawyer because it pays the bills, and hunter because there are abominations that need to be taken care of. I’d hunt full time, but most of the work is pro-bono, so if all I did was tote around a semi-automatic with silver bullets and a case of salt water, I’d be living in a cardboard box pretty damn soon.
The tall vampire appeared too lean to be considered healthy. Then again, since when were vampires supposed to be healthy? Cheekbones jutted out nearly a mile from his face, and I could’ve split paper with the tip of his nose. Dressed in unrelenting black, he looked like a Dracula wannabe. All he needed was the black cape with the scarlet lining, coupled with that booming laugh, and even Bela Lagosi would roll in his grave.
Except he wasn’t a Dracula wannabe; he was the real thing.
And for some reason, it made him seem even more pathetic than he already was.
Watching him from across the massive desk, I tried not to stare too long at the jagged scars down his cheeks. “Uh-huh. Right. How about you tell me what I can do to help you, and we’ll see if I really can.”
He smiled, and I averted my eyes, trying to pretend I couldn’t see the tips of his fangs sticking out of his mouth. Most old-world vampires considered such a gesture as obscene. It’s like people doing the down and dirty in the middle of a busy shopping center.
Truth is, I used to be ashamed I knew so much about vamps. The only people who knew as much as I did were either vamphiles or the vampires themselves, and I didn’t want to be confused as either.
But all knowledge has a price.
Hey, what can I say? I like money. After all, money never betrayed me. Never stabbed me in the back. You always had to watch out for people.
The vampire, otherwise known as Malcolm, leveled himself to his feet and paced the length of my slightly shabby office. My boss, Owen, gave me enough money to decorate it, but I’d always thought interior decorating over-rated. So sue me if I preferred buying more firearms instead of stupid curtains that matched the stupid wallpaper. Paintings wouldn’t save my life, but a Glock just might.
“This is of the utmost importance,” he said, walking back and forth so fast I was half-afraid I’d get dizzy. “I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t. My master does not want to bring in outsiders, but we no longer have a choice. Our last lawyer was scared out of town by the Weres, and we are in need of some…legal advice.”
He didn’t look very happy, and to be honest, neither was I.
I couldn’t even begin to count how many vampires wanted me dead. Preferably a painful death. Make that a very, very painful death. And who the hell wanted to work for things that wanted to kill them? Talk about pressure.
Leaning back in the therapeutic armchair I paid an arm and leg for, I steepled my fingers, feeling a bit like the evil rich man about to rob the common man blind.
And oh, did it feel good. Righteous, even.
“Of course. Don’t worry. Just tell me what’s going on, and I’ll try to see what I can do,” I said and grimaced as I thought about what Owen would say. He harbored no love for vampires and would never have accepted any sort of job from them, if it wasn’t for the fact that vampires paid pretty good money. But he was like me; he liked the money more than anything else. I’m still waiting for the wedding invitation when he gets hitched to a thousand dollar bill. “Besides, it’s my job. I go in, I talk, and things get settled. Easy as pie.”
Things couldn’t be any more understated, but he didn’t have to know that.
Malcolm stopped and stared at me. “Do you really believe what you’ve just said? That this will be easy as, how did you say it, pie?”
I didn’t answer and I didn’t think he was expecting me to.
Long, thin hands clasped behind his back. He paced to and fro once more, hair flying in oily strands around his face. He shook his head, and I didn’t know if it was because he really didn’t want to hire me, or if he just had a loose joint somewhere in his neck.
“This cannot go on. We’ve got our territory to protect.”
I couldn’t quite understand the concept of squabbling over a block of dirty, abandoned warehouses, but hey, to each his own.
“It’s a turf war?”
He nodded. “It’s the godforsaken shifters.”
Oh goodie, a vampire calling a lycanthrope “godforsaken”. A bit like the pot calling the kettle black. “Go on.”
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Genre: Historical - Erotica
Ebook - Evernight Publishing - Novella
TBR Reviewer - B.H (Brutally Honest)
When Adam Blackwood first lays eyes on the woman of his lusty fantasies, he’s a young man with too much arrogance and not enough self-control. She rejects his clumsy advances and deeply wounds his pride. Six years later the wound remains, but other things have changed. He’s grown up. She’s widowed and alone. And this time, she wants something from him.
Evangeline always knew Adam was dangerous. He aroused emotions and desires she’d learned to suppress. But now he’s back with a proposition and a secret from her past. A little blackmail is hardly a gentlemanly method of getting her into bed, but what else can she expect from a Blackwood?
Perhaps, for just one night, she’ll give him what he wants and indulge her own secret passion. Providing they never see one another again, what harm can it do?
Adam Blackwood is essential a rake but the moment he spots Lina he falls for her. She happens to be married and a few years older. They don’t meet again until Adam’s father dies. She also happens to be widowed at the time. This is where a naked painting of Lina painted by his father is discovered. He purposes one night of passion in exchange for this scandalous item. This leads to a steamy love affair that certainly heats up the pages. Lina can also read palms and is rumored to be a witch. We also find out Adam has a fiancée. This all plays out in 100 pages of this beautifully written historical romance.
Ms. Fresina’s writing style reminds me very much of Christina Dodd. There’s no choppy motion, just an easy flow that grabs your attention and refuses to let go. Several of her descriptions are absolutely breathtaking and inventive. I really found myself totally engaged with her characters.
The story flows, the passion ignites and the romance rekindles my love of historical novels. This is a must read. I hope to read more from this talented author in the future.
Excerpt of 'Engraved':
Evangeline raised her lashes and looked at him, trying to figure out what was so different. Had he grown a few more inches? Were his shoulders broader than she remembered? Perhaps she’d never looked at him for too long before today.
The arrogant cub strolled around her small parlor, picking up books and china ornaments, examining each in a casual, proprietary manner, much the same way he assessed her.
“Very well. How much?” She lifted her chin. “I’ll pay your dratted ransom.”
“Yes.” He put his hands behind his back and swiveled on his heels to face her. “You will. If I can be persuaded to part with it, of course. I’ve acquired a considerable fondness for it already.”
Now he was making her angry. “How much?” she repeated.
“I’m afraid it will be very expensive.”
He walked away from her, turning his back. “When did you stop seeing my father?”
Nervously touching her hair, she worried it might come undone. He had an unfortunate capability of loosening her parts merely by looking at her. “You have it all wrong. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t ever like that.” She could barely get her words straight, too irritated by his brash impudence.
In the back of the house she heard Mary humming as she pottered about. It must be almost luncheon.
Adam Blackwood heard her too and went very still. “You have a house maid?”
“Yes.” How inconvenient for him, she thought gladly, to find she wasn’t alone after all.
But his manner was flippant. “Get rid of her for an hour or two.”
Rage kindled, tone sickly sweet, Evangeline replied, “I most certainly will not.”
“Unless you want me to show that portrait to everyone in this village. I think the church hall would be the ideal venue, don’t you?”
Her heart almost stopped. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” He paused, swept one hand across his lips. “Now get rid of the maid.”
Control being wrenched from her hands, she was furious. “No!”
“Then I will.” He strode to the door.
She was there before him. “Stop.”
He did. Surprisingly.
“I would rather she not know you’re here.” Shaking her head, she tried to catch her breath. He had her trapped. Suddenly, his hand was under her chin, strong fingers cupped around it, he lifted her face.
“Give her the rest of the day off.” His cadence softened, but it was no less menacing. “She’s not to come back until the morning.”
Her body tensed. “I thought you said an hour or two.”
“Changed my mind. These price negotiations could take a while.” He lowered his head until his lips touched her brow, then her nose, then her trembling mouth. “You do want that painting back, don’t you?”
“We can’t. You can’t,” she whined. “Your carriage…”
“Returned to The Grange after it dropped me at the crossroads. I walked from there.”
“But Peter, he’ll return with my winnings later.”
He laughed huskily. “So sure you’ll win?”
“Yes,” she said simply. Those kind of visions didn’t come to her often, but when they did, she took advantage. Why not? Someone would win the money. Better it be in her pocket than in theirs. Dr. Phillips was a frugal gentleman, one might even say he was a skinflint, and had saved a tidy amount in the bank. But, having been destitute once before, Lina liked to make her own money by telling fortunes and reading cards. Occasionally that income was supplemented with a little illicit dabbling in the races. She considered it her only vice and surely every soul had one. That was what made them human, rather than saint.
“What will he do if you don’t answer the door?”
“I…I suppose he’ll come back tomorrow.”
“There. Problem solved.”
She groaned softly. “But I can’t trust him all night with my money in his hands, especially if he has a few pint pots at his father’s tavern.”
“Trust me, if he cheats you out of a penny, he’ll answer to me.”
Desperate, she sought for some other reason why he couldn’t stay, but he wouldn’t even let her think. Leaning over her, his hand still around her chin, his breath cooling her brow, he said, “Let me be plain, Mrs. Phillips. I want to spend the night in bed with you.”
Want, want, want! Like any other spoiled child, she thought irritably. “But if someone should see you leaving in the morning…”
“They won’t. I know what I’m doing.”
Lashes lowered, she watched his lips. “Oh? You’ve had much practice at this?” Blackmail must come second nature to a man like him, she thought churlishly. Not that he could need it often for matters like this. Most women probably fell at his feet the moment he crooked his finger in their direction. Why he bothered pursuing her so intently when he might, with far less effort and suffering fewer thorns in his prideful skin, have any other woman to whom he took a fancy remained a mystery to her.
“Don’t ask me about my lovers,” he laid down his words as if each one was heavy, straining his shoulders, “and I won’t ask about all yours.”
She never should have let him in. The moment she saw it in the cards, she should have packed her things and left. But where would she go? She was tired, angry, confused. And she was lonely.
He didn’t kiss her. His mouth brushed hers, his breath moistening her anxious lips. Leaving her waiting, knowing what was to come.
It was inevitable. Five years ago she’d sent him away and he’d gone tail between his legs. But this time it was different. Adam Blackwood was in charge, in control of himself. He was no more a boy rushing in like a bull, and he wasn’t going anywhere at her command.
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Genre: Erotica - Contemporary
Ebook - Evernight Publishing - Novella
TBR Reviewer: B.H (Brutally honest)
How does a newly graduated culinary student distinguish herself in a city full of experienced personal chefs? Rose Phelps cooks for her private clients in the nude. Her favorite client is sexy and successful Zack Cranston, a confirmed bachelor. The more he’s around Rose, the harder it is for Zack to resist her naked charms. Still, he figures all he needs is one night between the sheets with her and he’ll be over it.
Up till now, Rose has ignored his teasing advances; she’s dead set on keeping things all business between them. Then unexpected circumstances cause their emotional and personal boundaries to crumble. Will one night of smoking hot sex lead Zack and Rose to heartbreak and pain, or the possibility of a whole new future together?
Rose is in a predicament. She needs money to get her brother a good lawyer and with the crap economy restaurants aren’t hiring. She comes up with a genius erotic plan. Rose cooks for a few special clients in the nude. With a little lace apron she whips up some of the best meals and the wildest of desires. One of her clients is gorgeous Zack. He’s a lawyer and quickly falls for the mysterious, voluptuous rose.
When one night leads to something more than a simple meal cooked in the buff. Ms. Anthony sends the reader right into a tailspin of lust and the real possibility of love.
If I had only two words to describe this novella it would be freaking fantastic. This was so well written, so engaging and I honestly could not put it down! As the story progressed, I was swept away from the fact that this is fiction, words on the screen. I was right there, watching Rose cook nude and waiting anxiously with Zack. This is a novella, 53 pages of erotic gold. Ms. Anthony managed to write excellent in depth characters with that short of space and really give the reader a fantastic erotic adventure. Read this alone for a romantic thrill or with a partner and I guarantee you’ll both be ready for your own erotic meal.
Be sure to put this on the top of your TBR Pile!
Excerpt of 'Naked Treats'
Whoa. Since when had touching someone’s finger given him an instant hard on? As Zack replenished the scotch in his glass, he refused to turn and look at her. He needed to give her some time to rearrange that outraged expression on her beautiful face into one that didn’t spell the imminent demise of their relationship.
He’d crossed the line just now, yes. But could you blame a guy? She’d stuck that delectable digit right in his face.
To be honest, there were other delectable parts that he’d much rather have captured. Those parts are what had no doubt given him the erection. There were her lush red lips, which had been only inches away from his, not to mention her naked breasts swinging soft and full as she’d beaten the eggs. Oh how he longed to close his mouth around one of her firm pink nipples.
Setting the bottle down, he swirled the liquor against the edge of the glass and then turned around. She was carefully filling the ramekins with hot custard, pretending to ignore him. Fine. As long as she didn’t put on her coat and leave in a huff, he hadn’t totally blown it with her.
He let out a long, slow breath. Okay. He’d bide his time for now; he’d continue to play the game her way. After all, he did have a reputation for his nerves of steel, his cool control, even under the most severe pressure. He was confident that her reserve would thaw, contract or no, and he’d have her between the sheets. He’d seen the way her pupils dilated and heard the catch in her breath. Hell, her nipples were hard as buttons right now, and not because of a chill in the air. He’d bet his BMW she was just as turned on as he was.
Yeah, one hot night together. That’s all he needed. He’d fuck her till she couldn’t stand up. They’d part as friends. She’d be out of his system for good then.
But she’d also be out of his kitchen. That knowledge stabbed through him, then he laughed at himself. The city was full of personal chefs he could hire. God knows he didn’t really need a naked one.
Zack retreated to his favorite recliner in the living room and clicked on the television. From here, he only had to cant his head a few degrees to see what Rose was doing now. Something with lettuce and lemons. Then she turned to the wall oven and opened it to look in at the desserts, allowing him a perfect view of her curvy ass framed by the ties of the apron. His cock responded immediately. A whole new scenario began to play through his mind. Rose, bent forward over the island, her elegant pussy impaled from behind on his thrusting cock.
Zack flicked blindly through a dozen TV channels. What had ever made him think he could have a naked female parading around his home and not want to fuck her? Especially someone as luscious as Rose? What a crazy, unnatural idea.
And he couldn’t be the only one of her clients dealing with this problem. No doubt most, if not all, of Rose’s clients wanted to fuck her.
Had they all managed to maintain their distance?
Or had she let her guard down for some of them?
An unreasonable streak of something like jealousy twisted in his gut as he pictured another man beside her at the island right now, nibbling her ear, squeezing her breasts, sweeping aside her apron. Helpless, he watched as the Rose of his fantasy dropped her spoon and turned into the embrace of the other man. Her throaty moans pierced him clear through. The stranger took possession of her, laying her back on the counter, spreading those creamy white thighs wide open.
“Yes! Oh, yes!” Fantasy Rose cried, offering herself up like a delicious gourmet treat. When the make-believe man buried his face in Rose’s pussy, Zack leaped out of his chair and headed back out to the terrace.
The sun had set, throwing its colors onto the neighboring buildings and the lazy river that wound away in the distance. An evening breeze cooled his face. Some kind of small bird lit on the railing and then flitted away. Gradually, Zack came back to reality.
This simply wasn’t going to work.
He couldn’t wait any longer to have her.
He had thought he could, but this relentless pull toward Rose had become stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before. He turned and leaned back against the rail, staring through the glass of the sliding door. She was setting the table. A pair of tapers threw flickering light on the terrain of her face and body as she moved about the room.
An odd sense of yearning spiraled through him, the implications of it stunned him cold.
He wanted her in his bed, yes. God knows he’d wanted to fuck her since the first morning she’d appeared in that sweet little apron of hers.
But he wanted her there in his kitchen, too, setting his table. And he wanted her to look up at him and smile, and then stroll out onto the terrace with her own drink. He wanted her to stand beside him at the railing and watch as the sunset colors faded from the sky. He wanted her long, slim fingers intertwined with his.
Damn. Damn. He was so screwed.
One night with Rose, if she ever did give him the opportunity, wouldn’t be enough.
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