Love Least Expected is a wonderful sample of romances from sweet, innocent stories to historical and the daring paranormal. There’s something for every romance reader and then some.
Please join me this week as I have the pleasure of hosting each of the authors from Love Least Expected. Keep an eye out for the Amazon raffle!!!
Fall into Darkness by Valerie Twombly
Val has a top 10 list:
I’ve been asked today for my top 10 list, so I decided to give you my top 10 authors. These are not in any particular order of love, but they are my favorites and authors I’ve read several if not all of their books. If you haven’t read any of their work, I strongly suggest you check them out.
- Rebecca Zanetti
- Sherrilyn Kenyon
- Laura Kaye
- Kresley Cole
- Gena Showalter
- Jeaniene Frost
- Elisabeth Naughton
- Jennifer Lyon
- Alexandra Ivy
- Lara Adrian
Hmm, do you see a trend here? All are excellent paranormal romance writers. Several have written other romance genres, but I haven’t read those…yet. Would I say that someone on this list influenced my writing? You bet! I can’t pick one because every single one of them had an influence. Their worlds helped me to escape my own and opened up the door to my imagination and reminded me what it was like to dream again. I’m not speaking of the kind that comes to us when we sleep, but the ones that haunt our minds when we’re awake. Those are where many of the stories come from. That place we are told as adults we are too old to visit.
I want to thank all the writers out there that remind us we are never too old to dream.
Eli lives by his own rules and bows to no one, even when summoned before the Tribunal Seven. They deem the hunter has lost his humanity and sentence the angel to earth with one mission: find some compassion or be condemned to hell.
Ashley considers herself a freak. With one glance into a person’s eyes, she foresees their death. When an attack brings a handsome stranger to her rescue, she can’t help but be drawn to his steel-blue gaze.
Fate will bring them together but desire could bond them for eternity.
Eli landed with a hard thud against the cold ground. He stared into the night sky. Stars glistened like tiny mirrors and the aurora borealis danced across the horizon with vibrant hues. The wind howled bitter across his naked chest and the snow at his back stung his still open wounds.
He pushed himself to a sitting position.
“Son of a bitch!” He shook his fist at the heavens. “You could have at least given me a shirt.”
With a huff, he moved to his feet and assessed the situation. It appeared his immortality was still intact. His wounds itched, which meant they were on the mend. He scanned the area, nothing but blowing snow and darkness.
He wore only the black biker boots and jeans he had on when he’d entered the Hall of Fate. Thankfully, he wouldn’t freeze to death, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the shards of ice pelting his skin. His senses told him there was a town about fifty miles away, so he spun around and headed east.
“Fucking toss my ass down here and expect me to find my humanity.” He stormed across the frozen tundra. “You could have at least picked a nice, sandy beach. Fucking Seven.”
A woman’s scream pierced the night.
The hair on the back of his neck rose. “Shit.” He thought about ignoring it, but remembered why he was here and took off running toward the sound. As he entered a thicket of pines, needles scratched his skin and a sudden, recognizable scent hit his nose.
The acrid smell burned the back of his throat. He was close, but the screams had stopped and he wondered how many he would have to fight. He got his answer when he entered a clearing that revealed a female in a pool of blood and one Hellhound standing over the top of her. He searched the area for any kind of weapon, not fond of the idea of taking it down with his bare hands. There was a cabin a few yards away, but she didn’t have that kind of time. If he left her to search for a weapon, she’d more than likely be dead or gone when he returned. He would have to find another way. His gaze landed on an ax leaning against a woodpile. It would have to do.
He slunk forward and grabbed the handle. “Hey, you piece of shit.”
The beast swung its head, red eyes bore into him and it snarled.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you. Come pick on someone more your size.”
The hound stepped over its prey and stalked closer, its nose raised in the air. “Hunter, you have lost your wings,” it replied in a throaty growl.
“Don’t concern yourself with my body parts. I’d be more worried about losing your head if I were you.” He wielded the ax through the air to drive his point home.