New Release! Blood of Angels by Amber Morgan @AmberMothling #romanticsuspense

Hello! Thank you for having me today and letting me share a teaser from my new release, BLOOD OF ANGELS. I loved writing about my Southern belle, Thea, and her fallen angel, Turiel. There’s something so appealing about writing an angel as a romantic hero. I’m not sure what it is – maybe a sense of the taboo? Angels are supposed to be pure, spiritual beings, after all, not the kind to get down and dirty with us mere mortals. Is that why we love reading and writing about angels discovering love and sex? Or is there just something irresistible about a man with wings?

Well, sadly, Turiel has lost his wings, but I think if you asked him, he’d say it was worth it for what he finds with Thea… 😉 I hope you love reading their story as much as I loved writing it!

Thea Clayton knows her life isn’t normal. But even she wasn’t prepared for an angel to fall through her roof.

Turiel gave up his place in Heaven to experience true sensations for the first time in his immortal life. He didn’t realize that meant pain as well as pleasure.

Thea isn’t the only person who knows Turiel has fallen. The blood of angels is a precious thing. And some people will do anything to steal it.

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Excerpt

Turiel reached down between his legs, stroking himself with slow, leisurely movements. His eyes fell shut, his shoulders relaxing, and she was reminded of nothing so much as a cat basking in the sun, warm and lazy. She watched his hand move, watched his shaft stiffen, and wondered if it was an invitation to her. Last night he’d seemed so broken, so lost, too much so for her to contemplate sex. A few hours’ sleep shouldn’t make that much difference. He still was what he was. A miracle, a masterpiece, a fallen angel…But he was somehow also a man.
She felt like driftwood on the seas, battered around by her conflicting emotions. He opened his eyes again, watching her watch him. A slow, shy smile spread across his face. “I trouble you.”
It took her two attempts to answer, and when she did, her voice was throaty and trembling. “In a way.”
“I don’t want to upset you, Thea.”
“I’m not upset.” She was spellbound. He was no Louis Lee, that was for sure. She wanted to wrap her hands around his thick cock, wrap her lips around it, taste that silken, golden skin. She wanted it with a fierceness that was too much to handle and yes, it troubled her.
“I can leave,” he said.
“You still don’t have any clothes,” she said.
“Does that trouble you? You seem preoccupied by it.”
He was teasing her. There was a studied insouciance in his voice and she found herself smiling. “I am hopelessly preoccupied by your lack of clothes, absolutely.”
He bit his lip and reached out for her. He took her hand in his and guided it to his waiting shaft. Thea gasped, breathless, as her fingers closed around him. Velvet and warm, he was, like a well-aged whiskey made flesh, and she closed her eyes as she stroked him, enthralled. She felt reckless, careening towards a cliff-edge with every touch. This was the madness that would take her, she decided. Not alcohol or paranoia, but the searing touch of angel’s flesh.
He closed his eyes, expression rapturous. “You will make me mad,” he murmured.
She said nothing, growing bolder and firmer in her strokes, revelling in the knowledge that she was pleasing him. This work of art, this divine creature, who surely could have fallen anywhere in the world and had men and women flock to him, he was here with her, and it was her hand, her touch putting that shine in his face, stirring his body. It was a powerful knowledge and it lead down a dangerous path. What else could she do? What else did she dare do?
It might have been enough to stay like that forever, him kneeling in a tangle of bed sheets, Thea laying alongside him, her hand caressing his cock with an ever-increasing possessiveness. Turiel sighed and whispered in that fluid, alien language, and she had a sense of time crystallizing around them like sap into amber. They would stay perfect and preserved like this forever, and that might be enough…but he made her hungry and he wanted to feel, to touch, and there was so much more she could show him…

About Amber
Amber is the secret identity of a writer who normally pens urban fantasy, but feels like stretching her wings. Amber loves darker romance, anti-heroes, good red wine, and expensive chocolate (sometimes all at once). She’s based in the UK and lives in an adorable cottage with her dream man, one adorable cat, and one sulky snake.
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New Release! Mr. Red by Amber Morgan @AmberMothling #DarkRomance

Hello! Thank you for having me today and allowing me to introduce Mr. Red to you all 🙂

You know, I’m sure I say the same thing about every book – that I had loads of fun writing it – but I really did have loads of fun writing this story. I started it because I needed a distraction from another project that wasn’t going very well, and before I knew it, Mr. Red and Ally had taken over my life. The story just came pouring out, and ended up being double the length I anticipated. I really just didn’t want to stop writing! Hopefully the fun I had is reflected in the story. Enjoy!

When Ally Mosconi’s father trades her in to his mysterious Mafia boss to pay a debt, Ally knows her life has changed forever. The man she calls Mr. Red is domineering, demanding, and utterly ruthless. She knows she needs to break free – but with her father’s life in the balance, what can she do to challenge Mr. Red’s control? And as she falls deeper under his spell, she begins to question exactly how much she wants to escape.


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Excerpt

“Sing me something,” he said. Ordered, really.

Ally floundered, caught off-guard. “Now? No. I can’t. I haven’t…”

“I don’t expect a flawless performance. I just want to hear you sing.” A hint of impatience entered his voice. “In case you had forgotten, we are negotiating. Consider this the first step.” He clicked his fingers at her, the way customers did in the restaurant. It was rude and domineering, and it always made her mad.

And just like she did when it happened at work, Ally fought the anger. As a waitress, she couldn’t lose her temper with the customers no matter how rude they were. As Mr Red’s prisoner, she had to be even more careful, and she already knew he disliked her talking back. While she might forget that when there seemed to be nothing at stake, if he was being honest with her now, there might be something to gain by co-operating. So she swallowed her annoyance with a huge effort.

She stood, nerves jangling. Jesus, what he if thought she was shit? What if she was shit? She hadn’t sang outside of the shower for a long time. She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to settle the butterflies, and then she closed her eyes and started singing.

She wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth until she started, and she was morbidly amused to realize she was singing Wait from Sweenie Todd. She was pretty sure Mr Red had been expecting something more classical, more…operatic, but she didn’t dare open her eyes to gauge his reaction. She’d sung the song dozens of times, having played Mrs Lovett in a high school production, and she was confident her voice wasn’t going to crack on any difficult notes.

She was on the first chorus when she heard his chair scrape back as if he was rising from the table. Inexplicably panicked, she flubbed a line and opened her eyes to see him stalking towards her.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

The sight of him approaching, full of quiet menace, was too much for her shaking nerves. She closed her eyes again and carried on. She sensed him move behind her, caught a whiff of his seductive cologne, and her voice faltered again. When he rested his hands on her hips, she had to stop. He was too close, too overwhelming.

“Don’t stop,” he said again, voice hard.

“I can’t concentrate when you touch me,” she said, then bit her lip, realizing too late how it sounded.

He laughed, low and dirty, and slid his hands up her sides to skim just under her breasts. “You have a good voice. I know an excellent vocal coach.”

She tried not to think about the warmth of his hands, the pressure of his fingers. Her back was to his chest, and she felt trapped…but not unpleasantly so. She tried not to think about that either. “There’s no point. The best vocal coach in the world can’t give me a relevant musical degree or the years of experience I’ve missed.”

“Hmm.” He ran his fingertips up over her breasts, the light touch drawing a hiss from her. He toyed with the top button of the dress, popping it open. “Wouldn’t it be worth doing just for the pleasure of it?” he asked.

Heat pooled in her belly, and she had to parse his words twice to be sure it wasn’t some innuendo. “I…suppose.”

“After all, it would be a trip out of the apartment a couple of times a week,” he continued. “With a bodyguard, of course.”

Galvanized by those words, Ally pulled free and whipped round to face him. “What?” Hope and suspicion warred in her. “You’d let me go out? For singing lessons?” Where was the catch?

“Maybe,” Mr Red said. His gaze was focused on her chest, on the small glimpse of cleavage showing where he’d unbuttoned the dress. “If you gave me something in return.” He opened the next button.

 

Author Bio and Links

Amber is the secret identity of a writer who normally pens urban fantasy, but feels like stretching her wings. Amber loves darker romance, anti-heroes, good red wine, and expensive chocolate (sometimes all at once). She’s based in the UK and lives in an adorable cottage with her dream man, one adorable cat, and one sulky snake.

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New Release! Wolf’s Hunt by Amber Morgan @AmberMothling

Thanks for having me today! I’m so excited to be bringing you all the second book in my Wild Blood MC series – Wolf’s Hunt. This is one of my favourite books that I’ve written and I can’t wait for you all to join Wolf and Clea in their story. If you like a good dash of redemption and revenge in with your romance, you’ll love Wolf’s Hunt!

 
Blurb

~Editor’s Pick~He’s trying to make things right.

Three years ago Wolf fled New Orleans, leaving heartache and violence in his wake. Now he’s got one chance to win back the woman he left behind, Clea Allary. There’s just one thing standing in his way—the deadly President of the Voodoo Kin MC, a man who will stop at nothing to finish Wolf and claim Clea for himself. Whether she likes it or not.

She’s trying to survive

Clea’s been staying one step ahead of the Voodoo Kin ever since Wolf broke her heart and disappeared. But it’s getting harder to cope and there’s no way out that she can see. When Wolf crashes back into her life, he offers her a dangerously tempting escape route. But how can she ever trust him again?

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Author Bio and Links

Amber is the secret identity of a writer who normally pens urban fantasy, but feels like stretching her wings. Amber loves darker romance, anti-heroes, good red wine, and expensive chocolate (sometimes all at once). She’s based in the UK and lives in an adorable cottage with her dream man and an adorable cat.

 

 


Excerpt

Grim bought them a couple of beers, but Wolf simply held onto his, not wanting to drink. The cold bottle felt good in his hands, pushing back some of the body heat generated by the other customers milling around. Even with the air conditioning on though, it was a sticky-hot night. Kinda night he used to love. He and Clea would run around New Orleans from dusk til dawn, drinking, laughing, then fall into his apartment as the sun came up. They’d fuck like they’d never get enough of each other, then he’d run out for coffee and beignets, and they’d eat and then fuck all over again.

“Don’t get misty-eyed,” Grim said, making him jump. “You’ll miss the show.”

“I wasn’t,” Wolf lied. He considered, then took one quick swig of beer. At the far end of the room, the stage lights brightened up, attracting everyone’s attention, then dropped low again to bathe the stage in a dreamy golden glow. Wolf felt his adrenaline spike, his body practically vibrating with it. It was the same feeling he got before every fight, a drumming in his blood that he always welcomed.

Cheers popped around the room as Clea swept through the velvet curtains at the back of the stage. That surge of adrenaline pumped harder, urging Wolf to rush down the room and grab her. He could only stare though. And she was well worth staring at.

Her gold dress looked painted on, clinging lovingly to every lush curve. The color did incredible things for her dark skin and bouncy curls, transforming her into a fiery, shimmering creature, too beautiful for mere men to even look at, let alone touch. The dress touched the floor at the back, but skimmed her knees at the front, showing off perfect legs that Wolf had wrapped around his neck too many times to count. She’d wrapped a chunky gold and red necklace around her throat, an Aztec-style statement piece that he recognized with a jolt. He’d given it to her for Christmas one year, the last Christmas before he fucked everything up. She loved that kind of shit, big and bold and sunny.

She’d kept it. She’d kept his gift. Wolf allowed himself the smallest flicker of hope.

He had seconds to drink in the sight of her, like a man dying of thirst falling into an oasis. Then she stepped up to the mic and tapped it lightly.

“Good evenin,’ ladies and gents,” she said, playing up her New Orleans drawl to another burst of cheers. “Y’all havin’ a good night so far? Who’s ready for a song?”

Music struck up and she started singing. Her voice was everything he remembered, soft with a touch of gravel, like honey brushed over sandpaper. Wolf gritted his teeth as his cock hardened. Her voice had always done that to him. It was probably dumb to hope time and distance would have changed that when it hadn’t changed anything he felt for her.

Against his better judgment, he took a deeper drink and started moving through the crowd. Grim followed, grabbing his shoulder. “You sure about this, Danny Boy?” he hissed in Wolf’s ear.

“Yeah,” Wolf said, shaking him off. He was lying again. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he couldn’t fucking stay away. He had to get closer to the stage, had to get closer to Clea. Otherwise what was the point of coming at all? He sure as fuck wasn’t going to watch her belt out a few jazz tunes then slink away without even letting her know he was here.