RAVEN (GUARDED HEARTS BOOK 3)

GH3 Raven cover reveal

RAVEN

(GUARDED HEARTS BOOK 3)

by Claire Marta and Nia Farrell

 

Cover Design by Crystal Visions

Cover Reveal August 8, 2020

Release Date September 22, 2020

 

Amazon Universal Link     Amazon US     Amazon UK     

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Unseen enemies threaten the newest fated mate and her child.

 

Nurse practitioner and midwife Raven O’Malley has no idea what she’ll be getting into when she takes on her newest client, who lives at the Citadel with not one but two handsome men. The other cadre members are equally attractive but it’s Cayden McPherson and Killian O’Connell who set their sights on her.

Raven has enough to deal with. A daughter, a puppy, a demanding job, and a mobster ex-husband. Now a blackmailer wants her to spy on the Citadel or she risks her daughter’s life.

The cadre members know there are forces of darkness to battle and evil exists in both worlds. Can Cayden and Killian protect the woman they love or will they lose her to enemies seen and unseen?

Shifters with a sci-fi twist, the Guarded Hearts series follows members of the Order of the Phoenix. While interconnected, each title can be read as a stand-alone. MFM ménage erotic romance written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt (NSFW):

Cayden was just leaving the kitchen when she caught up to him.

“We need to talk,” she snapped. Catching his hand, she dragged him down the hall and into the infirmary. “What the feck is going on?” she demanded.

Cayden frowned. “What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“They know,” she grated. “Casey. Morgan. The others. They know about us. What did you tell them? What did you say?”

The medic rubbed a hand over his face and blew out a breath. “Ye’re nae gang tae like it,” he warned. “We’ve been holding off, telling ye because of it, but there’s no help for it now, is there? Yer scent is enough tae make it clear that we’ve done the deed,” he told her. “Our kind can smell when a woman goes through the flux and her body is transformed. Ye need to talk to Morgan and Casey about what they went through, but Casey’s experience is like tae be closer. Morgan’s change was put off when she ingested vampire blood—”

“Vampires?” Raven stared at him, incredulous. “You’re telling me that there are vampires? That they’re real.”

He nodded, his green eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them. “They are that,” he told her. “One targeted Morgan. We killed it, but another one kidnapped her. We got her back and cleaned out the nest. We think we got them all now.”

“You think. You think? Jaysus, Joseph, and Mary! You should have told me!” she yelled at him. “Bloody hell! You and your mate could have told me any time, but you didn’t say a damn word, just lured me upstairs and had your way with me. You’ve changed my body without my consent. Now I’ve put my daughter in danger after thinking I was bringing her to a sanctuary. My ex kept things from me. I’m warning you right now, I expect full disclosure in the future or there’s going to be hell to pay. Do you hear me?”

She poked him in the chest to make her point.

Cayden released the breath he’d been holding. “Let me call Killian, then. Get him down here. If we’re gang tae hae a heart-tae-heart, it needs tae be the three of us.

Zana was with Willow and Prince. Free to come, Killian joined them as soon as he could make his way downstairs. “What’s up?” he asked, picking up the tension in the air.

“She knows,” Cayden told him. “Or knows the start of it, anyway. She’s demanded full disclosure. It’s better tae hear it from the both of us than tae hear it from one and again from the other.”

Killian nodded. “Ye’re the medic. I’ll let ye explain the way of things.”

“We’ve told ye what we are, that these robes of flesh have four strands of DNA. When a fated mate is found, the introduction of sperm starts the transformation process to change her body, making it compatible, able to conceive and bear children.”

“I don’t understand,” Raven clipped. “I can’t have children. I told you that. It shouldn’t have affected me.”

“But it did,” Killian assured her. “We don’t understand it either, but we knew from the first that you were the one for us, the woman to complete us. The males of our kind experience what we call the quickening. It’s a physical response to a fated mate. Lets us know that she’s the one. We felt it with ye. We will not question God’s will. Ye were chosen for us. Transformed by us. But there are other things…”

Raven was seething at their disregard for her. “And you thought it was just fine to go and do it because it’s all in the plan?” she grated. “You gave no thought to what I wanted or the fact it’s not just me. Do you know how selfish that is? How arrogant?” She buried her face in her hands. “I really can’t deal with this right now. I should get Willow and Prince and pack up the damn car and get the hell out while I can.”

“Ye need tae listen,” Cayden told her, lowering his voice in a way that did strange things to her insides. Grasping her biceps, he pulled her easily to him. She wanted to grind against him. Use him like they’d used her. How dare they!

Raven struggled to break free, clawing at his arms deep enough to leave bloody scratches when he refused to let her go.

She went still when she saw the gouges healing before her eyes.

“Full disclosure,” Cayden growled in that voice of his. “This is a hint of my true voice. It has power… affects people in different ways. Mine will make ye wish to obey. Doctor’s orders.” He said it half-jokingly, but the man was deadly serious. “Iosefa’s will put someone tae sleep. The new mothers are sure tae keep him on call when the bairns get here and they need some rest. These bodies hae regenerative powers. Accelerated healing. Lack of scarring. But the thing ye need most tae understand is that ye’ll live as long as us.”

Raven’s solar plexus chakra closed tight enough to cause a cramp. “And how long is that?” she said, afraid to ask.

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Cayden told her.

“Three…?” She stared at him, caught in a nightmare that had just gotten worse. “You’re saying I’ll live three hundred years? And what about Willow? What about my daughter? You bastards! You bloody bastards! And don’t go using that voice on me,” she warned them. “I will never forgive you for this. Never!”

“Raven,” Killian crooned, trying to make peace. “We love you. We’d never do anything to put you in harm’s way or come between you and your child. We want Willow to be our daughter, too, the child that we wished for but will never have. Tobias said there’s a chance that she’s a fated mate for one of our kind, but Theo thinks her destiny lies elsewhere, with a fae princeling who’s waiting fer her to grow up.”

“You love me,” she scoffed. “You don’t know what love is. We had sex. We scratched an itch. Satisfied a physical need. I didn’t know you enough for it to be more. I still don’t.”

“Please,” Killian begged her. “We’re asking fer the chance to prove ourselves to ye.”

Raven felt anger, rage, but there was also lust. It was so fierce, she found herself responding before she was aware of it. Grabbing the back of Killian’s head, she forced his lips down on hers. There was no control. Just overwhelming attraction merging with her turbulent emotions. She wanted to make them pay for what they’d done. Show them that their desire was meaningless. Not if they didn’t have her heart. That wouldn’t happen now. Not after such a betrayal. How could she trust them?

Killian didn’t resist but responded by thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Reaching with her free hand, she fisted a handful of Cayden’s shirt and drew him to her. Two mouths fought to claim her lips. Their bodies crowded hers until her hips hit the examination table.

Fueled by anger, driven by revenge, she grabbed Killian’s collar and pushed him into one of the two armless stack chairs against the wall. Reaching down, she judged his hardness and took him out.

“I want you ready for me,” she told him. Ignoring Cayden, she stripped off her clothes and knelt between Killian’s feet, giving him a blow job he didn’t deserve but that her body needed to handle him. When he was wet enough, she stood up and straddled him like a stripper about to give him the lap dance of his dreams. Taking his erection in hand, she stroked her slit with his glans, parted her folds, and sank down on his shaft, working it like a dildo, a tool for her particular pleasure.

It wasn’t long, she grew greedy for more. “You,” she snapped at Cayden. “Pants off. Cock lubed. On the stool and over here.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

Cayden dropped his drawers and slickened himself up. Sitting on the wheeled examination stool, he did as ordered and rolled it between Killian’s feet. It was just low enough, he was shy of reaching her. Grasping her hips, he rose from the stool and found her star.

“No! Not there,” she snapped. “I want you both in my pussy. Bang my box like it’s never been banged. Think you can handle that?”

Cayden growled and showed her that he was up to the challenge. She rose partway up and held herself still while Cayden pressed his cock against Killian’s and worked his way inside, sinking his length into her, inch by inch until both men were ball’s deep inside her.

She lifted herself up and rammed herself back down. Killian groaned. Cayden’s stool went flying. She sank down on their cocks again and again, using them like they’d used her, coming once, twice, three times before the men shuddered to a finish inside her. Cayden eased out of her and grabbed some paper towels, handing them to her to stuff between her legs. She dismounted, tossing one of the towels at Killian to use. Finding her clothes, she started dressing, wordless, lecturing herself that she had no reason to feel guilty for using them as fecktoys. It was no more than they deserved after what they’d done to her.

“Raven,” Cayden crooned.

“No voice!” she snarled, shoving her feet into her shoes. “Not a word. From either of you! This was sex. Sex! Lust, not love. Now you know the difference. Don’t ever confuse them again.”

She left them without a backward glance and headed upstairs, blinking the sting of tears from her eyes, refusing to feel anything beyond the physical releases that she’d had. By the time she reached the fourth-floor guest suite, she’d sworn off all men.

“Out,” she warned Zana, giving him a look that told him she meant what she said.

The Persian was confused but obeyed, shutting the door behind him.

“How’s Prince doing?” she asked her daughter, memorizing the picture the two of them made. She’d be the one consoling Willow when she watched her puppy grow old and die. Who the feck was going to console her when she lost her child?

Damn them.

Thanks to Cayden and Killian, she was doomed to outlive her daughter. They could take their tall tales of vampires and fairy princes and shove them up their arses. If they knew what was good for them, they’d leave them the bloody hell alone.

She was here for Casey and Morgan, but Willow was her world.

They’d be wise to remember that.

 

PLAY DATE (CLUB PARADISO BOOK 1)

 

PLAY DATE

(CLUB PARADISO BOOK 1)

by Nia Farrell

 

Part of Little Black Dress anthology from Perfectly Poisoned Anthologies.

Anthology release date November 20, 2020.

Links to be added

A naturally submissive American woman is paired with a Dominant prince at a fantasy resort’s grand opening.

Club Paradiso is a fantasy resort owned by the Paradiso Luxury Resort in partnership with Replay resort in the States.  Located on a privately owned island in the Caribbean, Club Paradiso caters to the rich and decadent.  Its invitation-only grand opening has drawn royalty, nobility, heads of state, and pop culture personalities from around the world.  At the top of the guest list is Estefan Gianopoulos, crown prince of the Kingdom of Varra and the world’s richest bachelor, thanks to a gemstone unique to his tiny Balkan country.

The security to the event is being provided by an elite force of trained agents, former soldiers, and bodyguards, some in uniform and some dressed to blend in with the A-list crowd.  Estefan is planning his own undercover operation as soon as his “date” gets here.  He intends to flex his Dominant muscles with a sex professional versed in BDSM protocol who’ll arrive in a little black dress.

The trouble is, nearly every woman at the party is wearing a fashion classic and none of them looks like the red-headed woman he hired.

He isn’t happy when his escort for the evening turns out to be a brunette in need of an attitude adjustment.

Kira Reese Conners cares nothing for wealth or rank. In a borrowed dress and lethal heels, she feels a bit like Cinderella when she’s reluctantly paired with the Crown Prince of Varra at the Club Paradiso opening gala. She’s sworn to keep the Dominant prince’s BDSM lifestyle a secret, but who’ll keep her inner submissive safe if she agrees to a kinky play date with him?

#Cinderella #fairytale #BDSM #royalty #kneelfortheDominantnotfortheprince

 

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Excerpt 1 (179 words, PG13):

“Kira,” he murmured.  “An unusual name.  Family?”  Her father was a famous Hollywood stuntman.  Her mother taught yoga, which explained that body of hers.

“N-no,” she croaked, watching in rapt fascination as he adjusted himself.

A ten-inch missile was coming her way as soon as he could figure how to do it without causing an international incident.

“My parents were anime and sci-fi fans,” she explained.  “They named me after Akira and Kyle Reese from The Terminator.

He arched a brow and silently applauded their tastes.  No cookie-cutter name for an Olympic-level shootist who’d trained in multiple martial arts and provided personal protection for rock stars, actors, billionaires, and dignitaries.

Fuck.

He knew basic self-defense and was an expert fencer but given all the black belts she had to go with that deliciously sinful black dress of hers, he realized that she’d let him disarm her.  Had let him take her purse.  She had willingly surrendered her power, knowing she could stop things at any time.

Exactly what a submissive would do.

Suddenly, the evening looked promising once more. 

Excerpt 2 (429 words)

“I’m going to remove your holster.  It’s tearing up your skin.”

She rolled her eyes.  “And where am I supposed to put my gun?”

“Your clutch,” he said, “after I’ve taken care of this.”

Unbuckling the holster, he pulled it free of her body and laid it aside.  Tearing open the foil pack, he pulled out the alcohol pad and turned back to see that her knees were shut as tight as a miser’s purse.

He looked pointedly at her reddened thigh.  “Legs apart, pet.  I’m going to swab you down, then doctor you up.  I need room to work and you’re not giving me any.”

“Damn straight,” she murmured, glaring at him, daring him to force the issue.

Two could play that game.

He gave her his best Dom look.  It had worked before.  It worked again.  The minx grit her teeth and growled at him before grudgingly moving one leg far enough to afford access to the entire site.

Estefan nodded his approval.  “Good girl,” he hummed.  Leaning over her, he swabbed the reddened patch of skin with alcohol.  Breath hissed between her teeth at the sting.  He dipped his head and blew on her thigh.

Kira Reese Connors stopped breathing.

He did it again, as an experiment, to see what she would do.  She shivered and tightened her hands into white-knuckled fists, denying the urge to push him away—

Or pull him closer?  The scent of feminine musk was mistakable.

“Once more,” he rasped, wishing like hell that third times actually were charms.  To have this woman submit to him would be his greatest triumph.

She bit back a moan and spread her legs wider.

“There now,” he crooned, pleased with her response.  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?  Where your skin is broken, I can’t use arnica cream to promote healing.  I’m going to blend petroleum jelly and triple antibiotic cream to use.  Plain petroleum jelly will keep it from scabbing and scarring, but I don’t want it to get infected.  Are you allergic to anything?  Are those going to be safe to use on you?”

“Yes, Sir.  Sire!”

She rushed to correct her slip but it was too late.  He’d heard it and she knew it.

“They’re fine,” she whispered hoarsely, disturbed that she’d shown her hand instead of keeping her cards close to her cleavage.  She wanted him to think that she was unaffected, but her body had betrayed her.  Her jade eyes had grown smoky and languid, her cheeks were flushed, and the scent of her arousal was thick enough to bottle.

SECRET SANTA

SS Secret Santa 6x9 sm

 

SECRET SANTA

(MADE IN RUSSIA BOOK 1)

by Nia Farrell

Length 9,323 words. Release Date December 27, 2018. FREE with KU.

Amazon Universal Link e-book     Amazon US e-book     Goodreads reviews

 

It’s hard being a spy.

Katya Dostoevsky is a “little” and the young, submissive mistress of a Russian mobster.  Posing as a mercenary, Simon Tolliver is a forty-five-year-old British operative who’s been ordered to kill her.

Neither of them is what they seem.

Sold by human traffickers at the age of 14, Katya has endured eleven years of forced consent, serving the needs of Alexei Papanov, head of the Bratva in upstate New York.  She thinks that Simon is taking her toy shopping ahead of Christmas, but he’s been instructed to kill her en route.  After what she has suffered, he plans to be her Secret Santa and give her the quick, clean death that she deserves.

It was supposed to be his last night on his last mission before retiring.  Instead, this British spy with a gun and a girl on the run embark on a dark, thrilling ride that can only end one way.

Nia Farrell’s way.  Yippee ki-yay.

Contains guns, an ambush, a car chase, a kamikaze deer, and bad guys after flawed but endearing characters who would love peace on earth but find themselves looking over their shoulders and loading another clip.  Mandatory bedroom scene included.  Have a cold drink on hand.  Obviously written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

Simon followed Papanov upstairs, past three armed guards and a half-dozen rooms.  Stopping short of his private office, the Bratva kingpin opened a door and stepped inside, motioning for Simon to follow.

The room was decorated like a little girl’s dream with a fairytale four-poster bed, an ice cream parlor table and chairs, and an antique baby carriage full of dolls and stuffed toys.  An ornate desk sat in front of a bank of curtained windows.  Light from the crystal chandelier added to the soft glow from the computer screen of the laptop perched on the thighs of Papanov’s much-younger mistress.

Simon’s cock twitched at the sight of the pretty brunette.  Dressed only in a black bra and panties and red fuck-me heels, she sat on an office chair with her face lit and her gaze locked on the screen, oblivious to their presence.

Simon felt like a dirty old man for wishing he could stand there and watch her.  He was a spy.  He should be focused on Alexei.  Instead, he looked at the exquisite turn of Katya’s ankles and imagined them around his neck.

Katya Dostoevsky was twenty-five years old, five feet, three inches, a former gymnast, and an obedient servant to the whims of her master.  Sold by her father to Papanov when she was fourteen, she’d grown into a stunning young woman.

Too bad Alexei didn’t share.

Or did he?

“You remember Katya.”  His inflection made it a statement rather than a question.

Two sets of eyes darted to Alexei—hers alarmed and his wary.  What was Papanov’s game?

Simon schooled his features.  “Yes.”

“Myshka, you remember Mr. McCartney?”

She jerked her head in a stiff little nod.  “Da.”

She was careful to not look at Simon when she answered.  She knew Peter McCartney’s reputation, but she hadn’t really seen what he was capable of.  She’d only witnessed a clean kill.

Alexei had backhanded her, busting her lip when she wouldn’t stop crying.

Papanov nodded.  “Khorosho.  Good.  Myshka, I want you to pack a suitcase.  Take enough to last you a week.  Christmas is coming, and my mouseling wants her favorite bear fixed.  I say it is time for new ones if the old ones fall apart when you ride them.  Mr. McCartney will drive you to the apartment in Manhattan.  I will finish things here and meet you there.  Then we shop, da?”

Interesting.  Katya masturbated with teddy bears.  Knowing Alexei, he jacked off to the show and made her play the virgin to deflower as an encore.

Simon didn’t miss the look of dismay or the slight tremor that shook her shapely frame.  She swallowed the objection on the tip of her tongue and answered meekly, “Da, Papi.”

Alexei’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “That’s my good girl.  Set your luggage by the hallway door when you have it packed.  I want you downstairs and ready to leave in twenty minutes.  Come, Peter.”

Katya flew into action, kicking off her heels and sprinting to her closet.  Simon followed Papanov to his office one door over.  Katya’s room had been chosen for the Pakhan’s convenience.  When Alexei got an itch, he wanted it scratched immediately.  His personal sex slave was on call around the clock, anytime, day or night, in public or in private.

Alexei thought nothing of ordering Katya to please him while he entertained guests.  Humiliating her only added to his pleasure.

“Close the door.”

Simon did as ordered, questions writhing like Medusa’s snakes in his head.  He was pissed.  Alexei should have asked him first.  Instead, he’d told him in front of Katya.  Now Simon was stuck driving her down to the city.  He’d spend hours on the road and in traffic, closed in a car with a woman he wanted and could never have—

Unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a eunuch.

The last man who’d touched her without permission had his balls cut off and shoved up his arse.  Simon hadn’t seen it, but he’d heard the story, now shared as a cautionary tale.

“Sit.”  Alexei pointed to the closest chair.  Simon took it.  Papanov did the same, settling into place behind a heavy wooden desk.

They stared at each other, a pissing contest that lasted all of fifteen seconds.

“What the fuck?” Simon growled.  This was supposed to be his last night as a spy.  The final time he’d risk life and limb for his Queen and country.  His goal in recent years was to be the exception to the rule.  He knew when he left the SAS and joined the Secret Intelligence Service that spies didn’t live long and prosper.  Retirement from MI6 was a three-by-eight piece of land and a bed six feet under, not a secret, off-the-grid cabin in the Great North Woods with a prepper’s pantry, a growing library of first editions, and an arsenal that had taken half of his life to amass.

His trip to Canada would have to wait.

Alexei let his mask drop for a moment so brief, Simon almost missed it.  Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

The head of the Bratva in upstate New York looked out the bank of bullet-proof windows.  The clouds obscuring tonight’s full moon did nothing to dilute its effects.  Driving Katya to Manhattan was lunacy.

He told Alexei so.

Papanov sighed heavily.  “You are right,” he said, sounding weary and oddly torn.  “You will not go there.  When you leave here, you take her somewhere… and kill her.”  He huffed a breath and tapped his fingers on his desk.  “I do not need to know details.  Send word when it is done.”

Holy fuck.

It was a bloody miracle that Simon managed to look like he didn’t care, that this was just another assignment, no different than the other jobs that he’d done for Papanov.  But the men and women he’d killed before had earned it.  They were criminals.  Rivals.  Chechen Mafia.  Albanian Mafia.  Hell, he’d even killed someone from the Visconti crime family who had somehow given offense.

Alexei narrowed his eyes.  “You will do this, da?”

“Of course, I will.  I just—”

“You wish to know.”  Papanov pursed his lips, considering the wisdom in telling him.  He rarely bothered with explanations unless his blood pressure was up and he needed to vent.

“She is… too soft for this,” he said, waving an imperious hand.  “It was… mistake to bring her here.”

Papanov had had her since she was fourteen.  He’d gotten bored or annoyed or both.  Clearly, he didn’t like her asking to fix her broken bears.  After nine years of statutory rape and forced consent, he was discarding Katya as casually as a toy that he’d outgrown.  The trouble was, he couldn’t pass his plaything down, and he didn’t dare release her.  His mouseling was a liability.  She knew too much.  She’d seen too much for him to ever let her go.

 

 

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