Paranormal Romance · Release Boost

Hail to the Queen (Witch for Hire Book 2)by Shyla Colt Release Boost

Hail to the Queen (Witch for Hire Book 2)

By Shyla Colt

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Synopsis:

With two coronations to attend, you’d think the universe would stop piling catastrophes on top of Louella Eschete, but you’d be dead wrong. As she prepares to ascend two thrones, one as Lady of the Cortez Vampire Court and the other as Matriarch of the Eschete Witches, she must face a new evil.
Just when Lou is ready to stab a seamstress with a hat pin, murder and strange occurrences begin to happen around her city. Stolen corpses in the cemetery, decapitated astronomers, and hearts taken from nursing homes is odd, even for Louisiana. There is no rhyme or reason to the carnage, but the sigil left behind at a scene points to something ancient.
It’s a race against the clock for humanity. There’ll be nothing to rule if everyone’s dead.

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Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38464824-hail-to-the-queen?ac=1&from_search=true

Buy on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2BTa8Gd

***Also available on Kindle Unlimited***

 

Here is what some reviewers are saying about Hail to the Queen:

A magically romantic action packed read.

 

I really enjoyed taking this journey with Lou as she struggled not to lose sight of who she was while coming into power.

 

Ms. Colt weaves a wonderful story of romance with a mix of paranormal touches that engage you. 

Don’t Miss the First Book in the Series: 

Witch For Hire

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SYNOPSIS

Young, terrified, and bound to a vampire, Louella Eschete fled the bayou and swore off magic. Years later, she’s returned to the tiny town of Cypress, Louisiana to take her rightful place as head of her magical family, whether she likes it or not.
In order to keep the tentative peace formed between the various races of powerful beings who rule side by side, she must face her own demons. Mainly one, Cristobal Cortez. Now a master vampire, and lord of the seven cities surrounding New Orleans, her former lover has moved up in the world. Their relationship gets way more complicated when his court is framed for a rash of murders they didn’t commit.
Forced to play her role as his bond mate, and launch an investigation into the darkness threatening to overturn truces, she may be in over her head.

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2AfgnAl

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PURCHASE NOW:

AMAZON: http://amzn.to/2hVa9NN

***ALSO AVAILABLE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED***

 

MEET SHYLA COLT

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Shyla Colt is the sassy USA Today Bestselling author of the popular series Kings of Chaos and Dueling Devils M.C. This genre-hoppers stories feature three of her favorite things: strong females, pop culture, and alternate routes to happy ever after. Listening to her Romani soul, she pens from the heart, allowing the dynamic characters, eccentric interests, and travels as a former flight attendant to take her down untraveled roads.
Born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, this mid-west girl is proud of her roots. She used her hometown and the surrounding areas as a backdrop for a number of books. So, if you’re a Buckeye, keep an eye out for familiar places.

As a full-time writer, stay at home mother, and wife, there’s never a dull moment in her household.
She weaves her tales in spare moments and the evenings with a cup of coffee or tea at her side and the characters in her head for company.

 

SHYLA’S SOCIAL LINKS

You can interact with Shyla Colt online:

website http://www.shylacolt.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorshyla.colt 

Twitter: @shylacolt Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shylacolt/  

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/shyla-colt 

 

        

Romance

Two Wedding Crashers (The Dating by Number Series Book 2) by Meghan Quinn Release Day Launch

 

 

 

BUY NOW

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON CA | AMAZON AU

 

 

I don’t know what love is anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.

You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?

Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.

Except I haven’t felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem–but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?

That’s how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.

It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I’m a pro. I can handle this.

Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I’m doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don’t think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.

 

 

 

“What brings you to Key West, Beck?”

I feel like that’s a question I should have asked a while ago but with the whole naked hotel room exposure—which I have yet to tell my friends about—and the sweatshirt burial, we haven’t had a real chance to get to know each other. Not that I’m complaining all too much. What I know about Beck so far is that he’s a gentleman and likes to have a good time, even if that means torching a sweatshirt and sending it on it’s way.

There aren’t many people I know who would stand there, hand over heart, talking about the thread count of a sweatshirt while fake crying.

The corner of my lips pull up just from the image of Beck wiping “tears” from his eyes with the back of his index finger.

“Do you want the truth, or do you want a fabricated lie that will cause you to fall madly in love with me?”

Chuckling, I answer, “Both.”

“Fair enough.” Beck pushes his foot against the sand below us, sending the hammock into a relaxing swing. “Want the truth or the lie first?”

“Hmm, how about I guess which is which.”

“Ah, things are about to get exciting.” He chuckles and rubs his hands together. “Okay, reason number one.” He clears his throat. “I’m attending a wedding this coming weekend, a wedding I wasn’t invited to, but my friend begged me to attend because he wanted to bone his wife without children around. It doesn’t make sense, but hey, I’m a good friend so here I am.”

Errr, that’s eerily familiar. I swallow a little harder than expected. There is no way he’s crashing a wedding like me. That’s only something a desperate author does in order to find signs of love again. “Okay, reason number two.”

“My sister is getting married this weekend and I’m giving her away. Our dad passed away a few years ago from a heart attack, and even though we’d been estranged for two years, she asked if I would be a part of her wedding. So here I am.”

Silently he swings us, my mind whirling with what the truth could be. Both stories were told so effortlessly, so he’s either a really good liar, or some kind of con artist. I should be scared. I should go to my hotel room right now, wishing Beck a good night, but I don’t, because I’m intrigued by this man. Behind the good looks and intelligence, there’s something beneath the surface, something dark that makes understandable the age in his weathered eyes.

Because of that, I go with option number two. It seems the most plausible, because who really crashes weddings? Only crazed women with the tendency to sit in a bush with a notepad and pen and take notes while staring at couples and listening in on their conversations.

Research and all, it comes at a high price, like spikey branches to the tush.

“Hmm, I’m going to go with reason number two.”

He nods and says, “I knew you were going to say that, but you’re pretty little self is wrong. I don’t even have a sister.”

Stunned, I prop myself up as best as I can on the loose woven thread of the hammock and stare him down. “You’re here to crash someone’s wedding?”

He winces. “Uh, yeah, kind of.”

“Unbelievable.” I shake my head in disbelief and lie back down.

“Now before you judge me and give me a lecture about RSVPing—”

“I’m not judging you.” I turn toward Beck, the hammock making the shift slightly difficult. “I’m just a little . . . surprised.”

“I don’t plan on eating any food.” He bites his bottom lip. “That’s a lie. I plan on eating a lot, but hey, I’ll bring the party to the dance floor. If anything, I’m bringing them the gift of dance, so you can’t be mad at me for that.”

“I’m not mad.” I laugh, still surprised. “I’m just trying to comprehend this.” Looking him square in the eyes, I say, “I’m here crashing a wedding as well.”

This causes Beck to sit up, his brawny chest straining the fabric of his shirt. He intently studies me, his eyes flitting back and forth until he finally asks, “You’re serious? You’re really crashing a wedding?”

I press my lips together and nod.

A sharp laugh escapes Beck as he lies down on the hammock and sends our swing into more of a frenzied movement. “I’m just going to assume, given our luck of baby puke, naked encounters—”

“I knew you saw boobs.”

“I didn’t see . . . ah hell, what’s the point? I totally saw your tits and fuck, woman, they’re hot.” I blush . . . horrendously, my face heating up along with every vein in my body. “But like I was saying, with our luck, we’re going to the same wedding.”

Clearing my throat, trying to move past the part where Beck just made my nipples harden and pop out like turkey thermometers, I lamely say, “Yeah, that would be our luck.”

“Let me guess, wedding is on Saturday at The Hemingway House.”

Cue another rush of heat to eclipse my body. “The one and only.”

He nods and lies there silently for a second before saying, “So what you’re telling me is that I have a date for the wedding Saturday night.”

Not expecting him to say that, I laugh out loud and for some reason say, “I’m wearing teal, in case you want to match and take couple pictures. You know, might as well do the whole couple thing up, right?”

This garners, a deep, low, rumble of a laugh from Beck. “Thank God I packed grey pants with a white button-down. There won’t be any kind of clashing in those couple photos.”

“Nope, not even in the slightest.”

 

 

 

 

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

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