Philosophy is defined as a theory underlying or regarding a sphere of activity or thought. Well, my theory is if I can add at least 10 new books to my Wishlist and move at least 5 older Wishlist selections to my TBR list every month, then life is a ice cream sundae. And if I can find those 10 books from at least 5 new blogs each month then that's the cherry on top.


Well, I've made it almost 5 years now, so for better or worse, I continue on. I tend to blog in spurts as the urge to be creative erupts. As I don't have an artistic bone in my body, you will see very few changes in the layouts. Hey, I'm a reader not an artist like so many of the awesome bloggers I follow. I know you don't always have the time but if you stopped and looked, take a half a minute and say your piece. Recommend a book that you have enjoyed or hated for that matter. Thank you to all who visit.
Oh, and I moved my Google Friend Connect info and share this buttons to the top, as without our friends, who are we?

Monday, November 13, 2017

Release Day Blitz & Giveaway For DANGEROUSLY DARK By C.J. Burright

Dangerously Dark
The Dreamcaster Series #3
C.J. Burright
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: 11/13/17
ISBN:  978-0-9961472-4-8
Number of pages:  321
Cover Artist:  Fiona Jayde

Some call him Purgatory’s Missing Prince. Demon Master.
 Overlord of Shadows. Only one woman may call him hers.

A master of dreams, a failure at life…
After another botched career attempt, Quinn Carmichael escapes to a remote lodge for a weekend recharge, needing respite…especially from the nightmares that haunt even her days. When a wounded, sexy-as-sin stranger faceplants unconscious on her kitchen floor, there’s something disturbingly familiar about him—as in he’s the boy from her childhood dreams. Mr. Dark, Dangerous, and Diabolical may be the key to unlocking the mysteries of her past and future, and Quinn isn’t about to let the opportunity—or him—escape without a fight.
His time is running out…
Known as Purgatory’s Missing Prince, Zaire’s existence has been one of endless pain, torture, and loss. Resigned to his fate, his final goal is simple—rescue his nephew before succumbing to the deadly darkness inside him. But when a fateful misstep brings him face-to-face with the one woman who could have saved him once upon a dream—the one woman he treasures above all else—he battles to keep his distance before he destroys her, too. But he would gladly sell his soul for just one taste.
Love draws them together, destiny will tear them apart.
With ruthless enemies closing in, Quinn and Zaire must fight to save each other and those they care for before it’s too late—even if it means they’re doomed to live apart forever.

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Quinn tossed the note on the coffee table and wrapped one hand 
around the warm ceramic mug,

absently petting Wolfgang with the other. Dusk took over beyond the wall of
windows, made darker by the blizzard. Falling snow hid the skirting tree line.
Wind howled at the house corners and turned treetops into jerking puppets. The
perfect meltdown location. No phones, no people, no problem.

The lamp 
flickered and died, leaving her with only the dancing firelight, not that she
minded. The power had lasted longer than she expected. Stoked fire, hot cider,
and now she had a great excuse to procrastinate reading unhelpful flyers. She
sipped her drink and wriggled back on the couch.

launched off her lap, kicking papers everywhere and sloshing her drink.
“Bad cat!”

He scurried into 
the kitchen, out of sight. A distinct thud followed,
 which meant Wolfgang was 
up to no good.

“I should’ve 
sent you off to the Nameless One.” Quinn shoved 
the remaining flyers aside and 
nabbed the flashlight from the 
end table. “You’d make an amazing hat, and
there’d be enough fur left to make a stole, the perfect 
ensemble to compliment
her plastic face.”

She flicked on 
the flashlight and shuffled into the kitchen, 
ignoring how the light made all
the shadows twist and scuttle on the walls and ceiling. Broken bones might
bother her, but the dark never had.

expectantly stood at the back door. He meowed, high and plaintive. Nothing
looked out of place. Whatever had made the thud wasn’t in the kitchen. Maybe
the wind had blown a loose branch against the house.

“What, you’re a 
snow leopard now? There’s no fancy feline 
feast waiting out there for you.”

Wolfgang rubbed 
his cheek against the doorframe, circled, and meowed again.

Thud. The entire 
door shook.

Quinn jumped.
That was no branch. All the horror movies she loved to watch and ridicule
flashed to mind, a lot less funny now. Alone in the woods. Killer storm. No
electricity. No connection to the outside world.

Wolfgang’s purr 
rumbled, and he slid his face over the 
jamb again. The noise hadn’t spooked him
even a little, and animals always sensed evil. Wolfgang had 
had no problem 
detecting it in Molly.

She squared her 
shoulders. No one would be roaming around 
in a blizzard. An animal had probably
knocked the trashcan into the door, and a quick look would ease any worry. At
the first glimpse of fur or fang—or red, glowing eyes—
she’d go for the door 

Pushing Wolfgang 
back with one foot, she cracked open the door. 
Wind exploded in, ripping the
doorknob from her grip and firing snow and ice into her eyes. The door banged
into the wall, and the storm’s full force rushed inside. Quinn scrambled for
the knob and stopped, frozen by more than the sudden blast of cold.

A man filled the 
entryway from threshold to frame,
 dark as the nightfall behind him. Steam
drifted from his bare head. Frost coated his short,
 sable hair, and even in the 
flashlight beam, his complexion held 
an unhealthy blue-gray hue. One hand was
anchored to the doorpost in a white-knuckled grip. The 
other brandished a 
wicked as sin knife.

She shone the 
light on his face, and her stomach roller-coastered. 
Her demon. The one who’d
haunted her nightmares years ago and then abruptly bailed,
 never to return.  
matter what face he wore, his death-black,
 abysmal eyes were unforgettable.

Or were her 
delusions returning with a vengeance?

“Get out of my 
way.” His chest heaved, and he lurched forward, 
the knife pointed at her. His
guttural words erased any suspicion that he might be another hallucination. He
was too present, too solid to be anything but real.

Merde. He was real.

C.J Burright is a native Oregonian and refuses to leave. A member of Romance Writers of America and the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal special interest chapter, while she has worked for years in a law office, she chooses to avoid writing legal thrillers (for now) and instead invades the world of urban fantasy, paranormal romance, or fantasy. C.J. also has her 4th Dan Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do and believes a story isn’t complete without at least one fight scene. Her meager spare time is spent working out, refueling with mochas, gardening, gorging on Assassin’s Creed, and rooting on the Seattle Mariners…always with music. She shares life with her husband, daughter, and a devoted cat herd.


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1 comment:

CJ Burright said...

Thank you so much for having me! :)