AK Nevermore Exile Release Tour and Giveaway

 

Together or not at all.

Exile

The Price of Talent Book 5

by AK Nevermore

Genre: Spicy Dystopian Romance

Together or not at all.

 

On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…

Flynn Scot is spiraling.

After a cataclysmic chain of events and devastating loss, Flynn’s grasp on reality is slipping. Backed into a corner by the Assembly and his sanity called into question, the threat of exile and having his talent stripped endangers not only him, but any chance he might have of getting his family back…if they’re not already past saving.

Deep in stasis, Kara’s fate is uncertain.

Stolen away and in the clutches of a madman, Kara’s future depends solely upon Titus’s sufferance. With unfettered access to her genome, his attention is fixated upon the next iteration of Talents—especially after events in the North change her status from prize to bait.

Because Flynn is coming for her, and he’s not coming alone.

 

 

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Cal grimaced and climbed to his feet as Glynfyls stopped shaking. He clutched his breast, groping for the ward Miriam had set some thirty-odd years ago that tied Flynn back to him. Please, God… Cal exhaled, his knees buckling in relief. Still there. Felt different, but the boy wasn’t dead.

Not yet at least.

His gaze slid from the calamity outside the window to the blood spattered across the wall and the gore-soaked carpet. In the unlikely event House Scot survived the next seventy-two hours, the whole damned room would have to be gutted. He dropped the last of his cigarette and ground it out beside Cordelia Kerns’s corpse.

And if they didn’t survive, screw the resale value. What a goddamned mess.

“Here’s a spot, there’s a spot…” he muttered to himself, bastardizing lines from his brief stint in community theater. Seemed appropriate. He couldn’t clearly remember his last wife’s smile or the faces of any of the children he’d buried, but every goddamned line from that play, every goddamned moment he’d spent with her, was seared into his memory in high goddamned definition.

Her. Elize. Lizzy. His Lilith.

Cal ran a shaking hand down his face. Squatted. Knees cracking, he leaned forward to lower Kerns’s lids and cover the look of surprise in her grayed-over baby blues, his gaze locking on the imprint of a bloody crescent between her brows—

A flash of memory—the same mark on his second wife—hit him hard.

He stumbled into a chair and pulled out his pouch of tobacco, cursing the tremor in his hands. Fingers fumbling, he threw aside the botched attempt. Deep breath. Rolled another. It was passible, barely. He lit it. Blew out a frenetic puff of smoke and spat tobacco from his lip.

His gaze drifted back to Kerns’s corpse. Another woman with her throat slit. Wasn’t related to Julia’s earlier demise, but that wouldn’t stop Crandall and the city’s rumor mill from having a goddamned field day with it.

Christ. Between that and Flynn’s tantrum destroying everything as far as the eye could see, House Scot was on borrowed time.

And when the press caught wind of Kara’s abduction, it would be worse.

What a clusterfuck. If there’d been any place to go, Cal would’ve started packing his bags, but this time, there wasn’t. Jane—Mother—had made sure of that.

He blew out a ragged stream of smoke and glanced at the couch as he brought the sad excuse for a cigarette to his lips again. Kara’s cat glared back. Miserable animal was wrapped around Fitz’s throat with its green eyes narrowed. Cal frowned at the rise and fall of the boy’s chest. Looked like taking pity on fuck ups was still part of Elize’s MO.

Not that the boy was losing any sleep over his brush with death. He was sawing wood like he didn’t have a care in the world thanks to Nora’s induced coma. Must be nice.

Cal took another drag, cursing himself and the lingering scent of Elize’s perfume. The barest hint of bergamot dragging his mind back to that first summer they’d met. To the stolen kisses during rehearsals. To the way the lighting had hit the curve of her cheek and the look she’d throw over her shoulder as she sauntered into the wings. Christ, that still got his dick hard.

Too bad her seduction had been as much of a role as the one she’d played on stage.

He’d hauled sets around the whole damned summer for that shit, podunk production to be close to her. Senator Dashell’s daughter. What she’d seen in the son of a pig farmer—Christ. In retrospect, he knew exactly what she’d seen. Or rather, what her father had. Man hadn’t blinked twice at pimping her out for twelve hundred acres just outside of town where the Corporation could build their research facility.

And damn them, but they’d gotten it.

Why her and her brother had stuck around after, slumming with the five of them—

Cal shook his head, staring at the blood pooling beneath Kerns. What was done, was done, and his hands had never been clean. No. He’d been up to his goddamned elbows in this shit from the get-go, but this right here? This was gonna sink him and everything he’d worked for since.

As intended.

He fished the slip of paper Elize had left on Kara’s pillow from his breast pocket, his fingers shying from the braid coiled beside it. Entwined E’s on the letterhead and beneath the monogram, a set of coordinates with four damning words.

 

40°49’26.99” N-73°55’20.99” W

Queen takes pawn.

Check.

 

Elize…Enoch…the twins were just pieces, not who he’d been playing against. Cal stroked a heavy hand over his mustache. Knowing the message for the invitation it was.

Jane had made her move, and now it was his. For better or worse, the endgame had begun.

**Don’t miss the rest of the series!**

Find out more at the Author’s Website!

https://aknevermore.com/books/

 

**FREEBIE ALERT! - Get the prequel- Breeder FREE!!**

https://aknevermore.com/books/breaker/breeder/

 

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.

She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

 

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Enter the Exile Giveaway

R.K. Harrington Kindred Schemes Release Tour and Giveaway

 

One bookish debutante. 

Two dashing suitors.

 And a season full of scandal.

Kindred Schemes

Schemes Book 1

by R. K. Harrington

Genre: Historical Regency Romance

 

One bookish debutante. Two dashing suitors. And a season full of scandal.

Lady Alaina Sinclair never expected London society to be so treacherous—or so tempting. She has always preferred books to ballrooms, but with a disastrous start to her first season, she’s determined to rewrite her fate. With her heart set on the respectable—and very eligible—Duke of Ashford, Alaina is ready to embrace society’s expectations… even if it means silencing her true desires.

Alaina’s world is set awry by Christopher Kendall, the Marquess of Rochester—sharp-tongued, maddeningly handsome, and inconveniently, the duke’s closest friend. Their first encounter is a disaster. Their next, a temptation. And every moment together after that, increasingly impossible to ignore. But with a web of secrets, jealous relatives, and mysterious threats unraveling around her, it soon becomes clear: this is no ordinary season.

Kindred Schemes is a modern take on a regency romance with glamour, a steamy love triangle, and enough mystery to keep readers turning the page.

 

What readers are saying:

"The story’s central love triangle will delight romance fans...Harrington excels in crafting multidimensional characters...[A] satisfying blend of romance, intrigue, and character-driven storytelling." — Booklife 

 

An entertaining period love story, nicely balancing breathless lust with social satire and high-mindedness.” — Kirkus Reviews

 

"The characters are colorful and sharply etched…the prose has a droll, Austen-esque verve to it, using pompously polite palaver to reveal the crassness of high society...In keeping with the style is the spirit of the book’s message—that true love triumphs over mercenary calculation. Readers will root for the feisty Alaina to overcome the stuffed shirts and find her heart’s desire.” — Kirkus Reviews 

 

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London, 1809

Oh no, here he comes, the lascivious Lord Finch and his merry band of drunken fools. Alaina looked out at the crowded ballroom, her eyes connecting with the group of men making their way toward its center. Alaina had only been at the ball for a quarter hour before this particular disaster struck, the leers of the men making the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle. It did not escape Alaina’s attention that Lady Barbara, Lord Finch’s sister, accompanied the group, and wore a sly smile. Hopefully, this latest encounter would be short. Surely, Lord Finch would not want to be rejected twice, let alone in front of a large crowd.

Alaina looked to her right to find her parents close at hand, thankfully, and she stood a little straighter knowing she would not face this alone.

The group of men seemed to move in unison before coming to a halt a few paces before Alaina and her family. A group of onlookers formed a circle around them as if ready to enjoy the ensuing spectacle, Lady Barbara taking her place in the throng. Alaina struggled to focus on the faces of the onlookers as she held her head high, ready to meet Lord Finch and his friends with as much dignity as she could muster. She hoped to project a more serene exterior than she currently felt, her heartbeat accelerating to such a degree that she could feel the blood rushing in her ears.

Lord Finch stepped to the fore of the now halted group, and gallantly bowed to Alaina before speaking, his voice so loud that Alaina was sure people arriving in carriages outside could hear.

“My dearest beautiful Alaina,” he started, clearing his throat before continuing, “You have set upon me quite a conundrum. I fear I have fallen madly in love with the idea of having you as my wife, and I feel you should be happy with such an arrangement. I am quite the catch, you know, especially for someone from the country, and one who likes to read.”

From behind him, Lady Barbara piped up with an added insult, “Amazing, really, that Alaina found her way out of the library to be here.” Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Alaina cringed at his easy use of her given name, devoid of any honorific, and seethed at the mockery of her character. Lord Finch and his sister sounded ridiculous, pompous, and conceited.

Alaina was frozen in place, her lips trembling in rage, and when no comment ushered forth from her lips, Lord Finch rejoined, unfazed by the one-sided nature of their conversation. “I find myself at an impasse. Shall I continue to press my suit with decorum, or should I make my feelings known to the whole world, so that you may not so easily dismiss them as you have in the past?”

A warmth crept up Alaina’s neck and touched her cheeks, giving her pale skin a glow, although one not easily perceptible in the dim light of the ballroom. She turned once again to where her parents stood, only to find that her father had disappeared, and her mother’s pale face was drawn in embarrassment as she watched her eldest child with dismay. Oh, how Alaina wished her father would have stayed; his tall frame was intimidating to a crowd, and his familiar umber eyes were always reassuring to her.

Resolved to put a stop to this farce, Alaina turned back to Lord Finch and remarked, her voice distant and strange sounding in her ears, “Lord Finch, it seems my earlier rejection of your suit did not deter you in the least, but I ask you to have a care for your surroundings.”

As the words left her mouth, Alaina watched Lord Finch’s face change, his outwardly serene expression making way for something more sinister. His smile twisted into an outright leer, and his pale green eyes seemed to burn of their own accord, the candlelight no longer just a reflection in them. He lowered to one knee and reached out his hands in supplication as he sneered, “Please, will you marry me, my lady?” The emphasis on the last word ensured that Alaina felt the insult.

Lord Finch was quickly joined by his friends, their idiocy knowing no bounds, all of them dropping to their knees in a chorus of marriage proposals, each more mocking and infuriating than the last. Soon laughter rang loudly in Alaina’s ears as the men and then the onlookers seemed to find amusement in her predicament. Her world blurred through a sheen of tears, the faces of the laughing men—now resembling something like demons—the only clear points in her vision.

Alaina glanced about to find her mother and threw herself into her open arms, shielding her from the worst of the crowd. The two women made their way to the outer edge of the ballroom and quickly to the front entrance, only stopping a moment to gather their cloaks before heading out into the cool night. Her father, having had the forethought to make his way to the exit, met them in the front drive, where he had already called for their carriage to be brought around, and not a moment too soon.

The Sinclair family hastened into the carriage, a pall falling on them as the conveyance made its way onto the main thoroughfare and toward their London townhome. Alaina squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the clip clop of the well-matched team of four, grateful for the silence of her parents, as she let tears make their way unchecked down her cheeks.

 

R. K. Harrington is a debut historical romance author, combining swoon-worthy romance with a bit of mystery. Her first novel, Kindred Schemes, is scheduled to be released February 2026.

In 2021, R. K. Harrington found that her daydreams were yearning to spill over to the written page, and, ever since, has been writing historical romance with a dash of mystery in hopes of publishing her work one day. After much editing, and long hours designing, she is gearing up to release her first novel, with many more to come!

R. K. Harrington grew up reading romance novels at a (maybe too) young age, and the stories entranced her. Give her a Happily Ever After (HEA) and there is no better book in the world. While romance books (namely historical romances) are her first love, R. K. Harrington is an avid reader of all genres. She has gone through many phases: medical mysteries, crime dramas, science fiction, romantasy, and is currently in a fantasy phase (she does do the occasional non-fiction book as well, namely history). Through every season of reading, romance books of all kinds are sprinkled liberally.

When R. K. Harrington is not writing or reading (or working her day job as an engineer), she is having fun with her husband, their kids, and her very cute dog, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Maximus. They all live in the DMV area, where the summers are hot, the winters are cold, and the two days of Spring and Fall are beautiful enough to open the windows!

 

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $20 giveaway!

Enter the Kindred Schemes Giveaway Here

Anne Kane Spirit Bear Conspiracy

 

My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the Spirit Bear, and take down the poachers.

Spirit Bear Conspiracy

Brotherhood of the Wild #1

by Anne Kane

Genre: MC Romantic Suspense

My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the rare spirit bear, and take down the poachers.

 

Ryland -- I was tailing a gang of poachers, certain they’d lead me straight to their kingpin, when a stray arrow from a crossbow slammed into me. Pain lanced through me and everything faded to black. In that blur of unconsciousness, I could have sworn a pure white bear stood over me, calm as can be. When I opened my eyes again, a woman -- curvy and impossibly beautiful -- was watching me with the cutest look of mixed concern and distrust on her face.

 

Kimberly -- I thought I was alone on a tiny island off the coast of British Columbia until an arrow from a crossbow barely missed skewering me. With my dog Diego at my heels, I ran to hide in a maze of caves, my heart pounding. Crouched down in the dark, I listened in terror as voices and footsteps floated to me from outside. I prayed the shooters wouldn’t find the spirit bear that inhabited this place. When I finally crept back out into the daylight, I found I wasn’t the only target -- but the unconscious man lying in a pool of his own blood wasn’t talking. Victim or one of them?

 

WARNING: This Riptide action-adventure romance includes violence, abuse, coarse language, vigilante justice, and adult situations. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Enjoy!

  

What readers are saying:

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆5 out of 5 stars.

Diego Rules Poachers Drool !

Loved the start of The Brotherhood series !! It has loose ties to the Author’s other series called Riptide MC ! The characters Kimberly and Ryland are well written and a lot of fun to read. The storyline has real world implications in the animal poaching and for animals living in shelters, so please be careful if such stories cause you any emotional distress. The book has a lot of action both in and out of the “bedroom”. I can’t wait to read book 2. 5’s for an action packed read !. · Dianna Rule TX

 

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Spirit Bears 

Spirit bears (aka Kermode bears -- Ursus americanus kermodei) are a subspecies of the North American black bear with a rare recessive gene that makes their fur white or cream. Spirit bears are found only in the Great Bear Rainforest, the world’s largest intact temperate rainforest. Estimated spirit bear population numbers no more than 400 individuals. The First Nations communities who have lived in the region for thousands of years call the spirit bear moskgm’ol, or “white bear,” and view the animal as sacred.

Many thanks to BBC Wildlife for their Spirit Bear Guide.

 Ryland 

I watched the woman looming above me through slitted eyes. So far, she thought I was still out cold, and I intended to use that to my advantage. I hadn’t seen a female with the poachers, but why else would she be here? There was nothing on this island to attract a beautiful woman like her.

She pulled her shirt off, and then her undergarment. What the hell did they call those things? It didn’t matter because now I had an unobstructed view of her naked chest. Wow. Her breasts were small, a mere handful each, but they were firm and pert, the nipples pointing upward with a decidedly cheeky tilt to them. All in all, she had to be the cutest poacher I’d ever seen.

The dog whined softly. Darn thing probably knew I was faking it. Unfortunately, animals tended to be a lot smarter than the people they kept company with.

He didn’t appear to be aggressive but looks could be deceiving. He certainly wasn’t a small pup. Maybe part shepherd? Or Rottweiler, given the coloring. I could only hope he wasn’t a trained attack dog.

Why on earth would the gang have brought a dog with them? Poachers didn’t tend to be animal lovers. Maybe they used him to alert them to people approaching. Hell, maybe the dog was the reason I’d got shot.

Suddenly he didn’t look so harmless.

The woman leaned toward me, that underwear thing in her hand and I turned my full attention to her. Time to turn the tables on the cute little thing.

I waited until she was leaning directly over top of me to strike. Reaching out with my good arm, I grasped her wrist and twisted it, neatly flipping her over on her back and landing myself straddling her hips.

Damn, that hurt.

I barely managed to school my face into a fierce grimace.

The dog rose to his feet, growling a warning. I turned my head and growled back.

“Seriously? You’re sitting on top of me and growling at my dog instead of letting me bandage your arm so it doesn’t get infected? What kind of idiot are you?” The woman glared up at me with one eyebrow raised in question. Apparently, I didn’t look as intimidating as I’d thought.

Ignoring her remarks about my IQ, I scowled down at her. “Who are you, and what are you doing on this island?” I tried to sound as menacing as possible, but I had the sinking feeling it was going to take a lot more than a growly male to scare this woman.

“I could ask you the same question. I’ve never seen you here before and I come here a lot.” She looked kind of cute, glaring up at me. Under different circumstances I might even consider asking her out.

I gave my head a mental shake. Wow. Loss of blood was starting to affect my decision making.

The dog let out a low whimper, settling back down on his haunches. Cocking his head on an angle, he regarded me calmly. Apparently, he had decided to give me the benefit of the doubt… at least for now.

“I’m the one on top here so I get to ask the questions.” I felt the need to point out the obvious. “Who are you?”

She raised both brows, looking decidedly pissed. “Well, right now I’m a prisoner of an idiot who will probably pass out from lack of blood shortly. Unless, of course, he comes to his senses and hauls his carcass off me so I can bandage his bloody arm.”

This was not going the way I intended at all. “That’s not what I meant. What’s your name? Why are you here?” Maybe it would help my concentration if I stopped staring at her luscious stream of silky dark hair.

“I don’t think I want to answer that. How about you tell me your name and why you think it’s okay to manhandle a woman who was just trying to help you.”

The dog let out an approving woof.

“I’m the victim. I’m bleeding. Remember?” I was starting to feel like I was somehow at fault.

“Yes, and if you’d get off me, I’d be able to do something about that. You might want to consider that I’m not the one who injured you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. How do I know you’re not going to finish me off if I let go of you?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I just told you I wasn’t the one who shot you. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it while you were lying unconscious at my feet.”

She did have a point. I let go of her arms and clambered awkwardly off her, favoring my injured arm.

“Okay, I get it. You’re probably not the one who attacked me. Damn arm’s starting to bleed again, and it definitely needs a new bandage. The last thing I need is to let it get infected.” I held my arm out for her inspection.

The woman got to her feet, her body language stiff and angry. She ignored me as she brushed herself off. Finally, she glanced at my arm. “No thanks. I don’t think I want to help you anymore.”

Award winning author Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue mutt(Merlin the Wonder Dog), a slightly larger rescue dog (Lexi the Aussie Shepherd) a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She has two handsome sons and seven adorable grandchildren. She’s always been fascinated by science fiction and fantasy so of course when she writes, she lets her imagination take over. The one thing the reader can always count on is that the main characters will live happily ever after, even if they have to defeat a few nasty aliens first.

When she's not busy writing the next great novel, she likes to kayak, hike, ride motorcycles, swim, skate, practice karate, play her guitar, sing and of course, read.

 

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $10 giveaway!

Enter the Spirit Bear Conspiracy Giveaway Here