Release Day Blitz & Review for The Reaper's Mate by Celia Aaron

 

Amazon US : http://amzn.to/2dCT5Oc

Amazon UK : http://amzn.to/2dL2XS9

Amazon CA : http://amzn.to/2dCT64O

Amazon AU : http://amzn.to/2dodqS7

This job. Boring is too colorful a word for it. I’ve been escorting humans to the afterlife for millennia. I’m over it. But when you’re the son of the two greatest reapers of all time, reaping is in your blood. My latest appointment is with one Annabelle Lyric, a twenty-eight year old New Orleans party planner. Snoozefest. But there is one bonus to this assignment: it’s Halloween night. In New Orleans. And she’s attending a posh party whilst unaware of her impending demise. I’ve been tasked with taking Annabelle’s soul right after the masked ball. The good news? I’ll fit right in with all the costumed partygoers. The bad news? That hits me when I realize Annabelle is much more than my next victim, she’s my fated mate.

Note: This is a short, sexy Halloween tale of true love.

“I’m going to claim you now, angel.” He pushes back from the bed and stands. With his gaze firmly on me, he unbuttons his black pants, revealing more of his pale skin and the tantalizing trail of dark hair. When he pushes his pants to the floor, my eyes grow wide. His cock is thicker than anything I’ve ever had before. A swirl of fear is tempered by the rush of desire his naked form creates in me. He is a living statue, perfect, hard, and masculine. And I’m just … me.

I glance down at my body, and the difference hits me hard.
“What is that?” He stares at the air around me. “Why are you unhappy?”
“How?” I cock my head at him. “How can you tell?”

“Your aura changes. Have I displeased you?”

“Displeased me? No. You were, that was … you were amazing. It’s just that I’m not…” I can’t figure out how to say what I’m feeling, and I start to slide my legs closed as embarrassment creeps in.

He’s on top of me before I move an inch. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you right now. You are my beautiful, perfect angel.”

I see no duplicity in his eyes, only warmth. His words instill a confidence in me that I’ve never experienced. I run my palm down his cheek and press my lips to his. He kisses back with so much emotion that I can’t catch my breath. Goodbye heart.

“I want you, too.” I close my eyes and try to inject confidence into my words. “I want you to claim me, like you said. Make me yours.”

 

Let me start is review off by saying, I voluntarily received a ARC of this book. And this is my honest review.
Ok now to the review , I had mixed emotions about this story. I loved Matt, and his alpha , over bearing , mine personality, Annabelle was , kind of meek and I wish for her to be stronger. But over all they worked well together and made the story. BUT ....and it is my biggest but... It was all good time the last bit and then I got confused , I mean him being the reaper should he not have be able to hear her? Also, the very last chapter the whole apartment dialogue just confused me and I finished the book with more WHAT? HOW? BUT..... UH..... So I can only give this a 3.5 rating .

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

 

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

🎉Release Blitz 🎉 Kicked by Celia Aaron

Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA  Amazon AU

Trent Carrington.

Trent Mr. Perfect-Has-Everyone-Fooled Carrington.

He’s the star quarterback, university scholar, and happens to be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He shines at any angle, and especially under the Saturday night stadium lights where I watch him from the sidelines. But I know the real him, the one who broke my heart and pretended I didn’t exist for the past two years.

I’m the third-string kicker, the only woman on the team and nothing better than a mascot. Until I’m not. Until I get my chance to earn a full scholarship and join the team as first-string. The only way I'll make the cut is to accept help from the one man I swore to never trust again. The problem is, with each stolen glance and lingering touch, I begin to realizing that trusting Trent isn’t the problem. It’s that I can’t trust myself when I’m around him.

This is a full-length, standalone American football romance novel with hot guys in tight pants who really know how to handle their balls.

A movie started playing on the back of each seat, but I focused on Cordy. Her polo was unbuttoned, and I could see the swell of her breast. My cock went from fight mode to fuck mode in the time it took me to shift more toward Cordy.

“Are we…” She nibbled her lip.

I grabbed her chin and turned her to face me. “What?”

“Are we like, together?” She stumbled over her next words, as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “I know it’s too early to DTR—”

“DTR?” I grinned.

“Define the relationship.” She furrowed her brow.

“Right. Well, I define it as you’re mine and I’m yours. How’s that?”

Her gaze brightened. My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it.

“Someone’s calling you.” She glanced to my pants.

“It’s my mother.”

“Oh.”

I’d told Cordy about the difficulties I had with my mom, but I didn’t go into the details of how much acrimony our relationship would stir up. Mom had no doubt seen the press conference. She would know. Mom always knew. She was waiting for me to pick up the phone so she could load me down with Carlotta’s tears, my family’s legacy, and the bright future she thought I was throwing away. I’d deal with it. Later.

I leaned close to Cordy’s ear. “Put your jacket on your lap.”

She turned to me, a wary look on her heart-shaped face. “Why?”

“It’s cold.”

“Not really.”

“You’re trembling.”

She arched a brow. “Not because I’m cold.”

“Then why?”

“Because you—” She seemed to rethink her answer and, instead of responding, pulled her jacket into her lap as I’d requested.

“Good. My hands are cold.” I slid my palm along her thigh beneath the jacket.

She jumped and looked at me with a scandalized expression. “Trent!” She hissed through clenched teeth.

“What?” I pressed my fingers higher until I reached the apex of her thighs, then I eased my hand between her legs.

“We can’t do this here.” She glanced around, but no one could see us in the dark, and if anyone was looking, all they’d see was us sitting together and Cordy’s jacket in her lap.

I rubbed my index finger along the seam of her jeans over her clit. “We can.”

She gripped my wrist, but I didn’t stop. Her breathing grew faster as I stroked her. My cock demanded reciprocity, but it would have to wait. I wanted to pleasure her more than anything. When her lips parted, I knew I had her.

I pressed my lips to her ear. “Unbutton your jeans, and unzip them.”

She tilted her hips forward and did as I’d said.

“You’ll have to be quiet.” I ran my fingers along her quivering stomach and she let out a small sound.

  

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

 

‼Release Day Blitz‼ Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet #2) by Celia Aaron and Sloane Howell

 

  

Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA

What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent--the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He's the one.

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can't get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn't always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?

I shot back against the cushion, doing my best to act normal. Nik pushed the door open. “Hey, babe. I was waiting for my dessert course.” I made a show of scrubbing my hand across my mouth and face like I was clearing her a space.

“I’m good.” Her tone was flat, and she didn’t even look at me.

What the hell?

Her usual spark was gone. She sauntered over to the side table, and dropped her keys and bag on it.

I glanced down at the laptop screen full of porn. Fuck! I’d been researching some new shit to try out with her, but there was no way she’d believe me. My gaze drifted to the mouse way up under the table. There was no chance I could get to it without giving away my knee situation.

Using my good leg, I tried to gently kick the computer screen closed, and, of course, it only opened wider.

“Have you moved from the couch all night? Did you even shower?” She sighed, still facing the wall like she had no interest in looking at me.

“What’s wrong, babe? What happened?” My mind raced. A lot could have occurred at Estate de CuntMuffin that would set her off. I’d been worried the whole time she was gone.

“I’m fine.” She turned around, and I watched her eyes dart straight to the computer screen. Her brows pinched together and her hands went to her hips.

Fuck me. This won’t be good.

“Nice, Braden. Real fucking nice.”

“It’s not what you think. I don’t look at porn.” I stared in the other direction and mumbled. “Often.”

“Your fingers slip and accidentally type in ‘fuckmedaddy.com?’” She scowled and began to pace back and forth.

I’d expected her to be upset about the porn, but not this much. I was halfway hoping she’d want to look at it with me. “No. I was trying to find new stuff to try out on you. If you must know.”

Her lips curled like she might smile, and then they mashed back into a thin line.

So close.

“Have they said if you’re going to be traded or not?” She took another step toward me, ignoring all of the pussy acrobatics flashing on the laptop.

“No.” I tilted my head to my lap and ground my teeth while I tried to compose myself. I’d been trying to forget about that shit all day, but the pain in my knee kept it front and center in my mind.

She made a pfft sound and threw her arms in the air.

“Babe, I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to have a clue what you’re upset about. I just don’t.”

A million things rocketed through my mind at once and brought my entire thought process to a crashing halt. My brain buffered slower than the inverted cowgirl pussy nomming scene I’d attempted to watch earlier.

Nik scowled, and then folded her arms across her chest. She stared me down like a closer in the ninth inning. “Think really really hard about the problem we have.”

My eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “Uhh, your parents?” I glanced back and tried to judge her reaction.

She made a loud sound like a buzzer that startled me.

“Fucking hell. I mean, umm, me being traded?” I held my hands up and shrugged.

“Warmer.” She took another step toward me.

I hated this fucking guessing game. Why couldn’t she just say it? Heat rushed into my face, and my body tensed.

“Can you just tell me? Please. Stop fucking around with me.” I smacked my hand against the back of the sofa, and Nik jumped.

“Maybe my parents were right. Maybe you do have anger issues.” She stomped off a few steps and whipped back around. “Easton!”

“Take that shit back. You know I don’t. Maybe your goddamn family just brings it out of everyone. Maybe you’re more like your mo—” I froze stiff on the couch, and my eyes bugged out. I held up my hands. “I stopped myself. You heard me. I did not say it.”

It was too late. I thought my head was going to explode the way Nik glowered in my direction. Her hands were squeezed into fists at her sides, and I could see all the whites of her knuckles. She started toward me like a possessed demon. “Did you say what I think you said?”

Do not answer, Braden. That shit is rhetorical. Adapt and survive.

I shook my head quickly and braced myself in case she resorted to physical violence.

Celia Aaron

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

Sloane Howell

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram

 

⚾Teaser/Excerpt⚾ Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet #2) by Celia Aaron & Sloane Howell

 

 

Coming June 30th

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent--the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He's the one.

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can't get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn't always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?

Kasey frowned, but then her expression lightened. “Say, Nik, you never gave me all the details from the lez experience you had in college. This game is boring as fuck. Entertain me with it.”

“It wasn’t really an experience. I just kissed a girl a little bit when I was drunk.” I shrugged as the first Ravens batter, Ramirez, strode to the plate.

“Not bad.” Kasey crossed her long, tan legs at the knee.

The guy sitting next to her gave her an appreciative up and down look, but her head was turned towards me so she didn’t see it.

“How much tongue are we talking?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the fall of my sophomore year, but it was hazy at best. I had way too much fun in school. “I think there was tongue, and she definitely felt me up over my shirt. I can’t remember if she ever went under, but I doubt it.”

“Nice.” Kasey set her beer down. “I think I need a reenactment. You know, to test you. Make sure you’re not running a game on Braden, pretending to be straight.”

I rolled my eyes as Ramirez swung and missed, strike one. “Not a chance. Besides, everyone knows I’m a Penis Flytrap.”

“Come on, just a little kiss.” She leaned closer as Kyrie snickered on my other side.

“No way.” I shook my head. “Braden would kill me.”

“I think Braden would be all about it. Just a couple of girls. One, his girlfriend, the other, like a sister to him. No harm in the two of us being friendly. Right, Kyrie?”

“Don’t drag me into this. I’m an innocent bystander.” She grabbed some more popcorn as Kasey’s confident grin surfaced.

I tried to ignore the hot blond trying to get into my panties. The next pitch was high and outside. Ball.

“Just a little experiment. That’s all.” Kasey’s tone turned wheedling. “It won’t count.”

“How many girls have you tricked into opening their legs for you like this?” I stared at her, not even close to falling under her spell.

She frowned. “Tons. What gives with you?”

“I love Braden.”

“Me too.” She moved closer, her big, pretty eyes open wide like the wolf’s in Red Riding Hood. “So how about you give me a little tit action as a sign of our love for him.”

Kyrie snorted.

“A little help here?” I turned to her.

“Nope.” She shook her head, a giggle falling from her lips. “I don’t get between Kasey and her prey.”

“Come on.” Kasey wrapped a lock of my hair around her finger.

I tried to keep the amused smile off my lips. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

Ramirez finally made contact, hitting a line drive and trucking it to first base.

Kasey didn’t even look. She kept her gaze on me.

I sighed. “Oh my God. If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

She squealed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Fine, you can have a tit grope.” I’d taken many a tit grope from Kyrie, so this was nothing special.

She reached for the hem of my tank top.

“Hey!” I smacked her hand away. “Over my shirt and for no more than five seconds.”

“That’s it?” she pouted.

I tossed my hair behind my shoulder. “It’s that or nothing, you goddamn sexual predator.”

She smiled and licked her lips before focusing on my chest. “Fine.”

“Get to it.” I leaned back and dropped my elbows to the armrest, giving her maximum chest exposure.

She rubbed her hands together like she was Mr. Miyagi readying to fix Daniel-San’s leg. The guy sitting on her other side couldn’t take his eyes off us. I wondered if he was going to cream in his jeans.

“Here we go.” She hovered her hands over my chest as Kyrie shook with laughter next to me. “Luscious Nikki tits in three, two, one.”

“Hey!” Braden’s voice cut through the air.

I looked up and Kasey and I were on the kiss cam for the entire stadium to see.

“Kase!” I leaned forward, but that only pressed her palms to my tits.

The crowd went silent, and Kasey took the opportunity to give me a good squeeze. I smacked her hands away as the crowd went from silent to roaring with approval. I hid my scarlet face in my hands.

“Goddammit Kasey!” Braden was at the net yelling. “I’m going to kick your ass!”

I peeked through my fingers as a grinning Easton strode up behind him. “Come on, man. They’re just dicking around.”

“Kasey is a woman-stealer. She’s the devil!” He pointed a finger through the netting at Kasey, who was doubled over with laughter.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head, my hands still covering my face.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the blond Satan sitting next to you!” The corner of his mouth twitched. He was holding back a smile.    

Celia Aaron

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

Sloane Howell

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram