Sunday, March 25, 2018

Inevitable Tour and Giveaway


Inevitable
The Curse of Avalon Book 2
by Sariah Skye
Genre: Paranormal RH Romance

A few short weeks ago, I knew exactly who I was: Ava Dawson, a woman with a surprising magical ability, a daughter, a friend, and invisible to men. 


Now? Everything has changed. The only family I’ve ever known? Betrayed me. My best friend lives clear across the city, and I seem to have the favor of four gorgeous, reluctant incubi. That complicates things a bit.
Also, I have this powerful magic coursing through my veins: the power of the mythical isle of Avalon. It’s real, I promise—I feel it every day. If I don’t learn how to control it, I might just end up hurting the people closest to me. Mathias, Trystan, Bash, and Xander are the new sworn protectors of Avalon—me. They’re powerful, but this magic? Might be more so.
I’m resisting the magic and trying to figure out who I am again. 

Losing my control? It's probable. Losing my heart, split among four gorgeous men? Yeah, I’m sure it’s only inevitable

(this is a slower-burn paranormal/ reverse harem romance, like the first book in the series. Due to language and adult content, the entire series is recommended for adults 18+)



“Go ahead and live with four guys,” they said. “It’ll be fun,” they said.
Okay, I admit I don’t know who “they” are. The voices in my head, maybe.
My best friend. My father of all people. But after three weeks of living with my
new…boyfriends?... I can say, with confidence, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Not because they aren’t hot, or kind, or sexy…but because they’re pigs. Pigs I
tell you!
It’s 3 A.M., and I ducked down to the kitchen to get a late-night snack.
Before I got to the kitchen, I realized I had to pee. So, I slipped into one of the
bathrooms on the main level. There’s a nightlight on, but still I stupidly sat
without looking first. I imagined—as always when I use the toilet—that I’m
going to sit down about knee level and do my business.
So, imagine my utter dismay, when my ass hit the cold porcelain, and I slid
into the toilet bowl; my ass grazing the blue toilet water. It’s cold, and I cringed.
And, even though it was mother-fuckin’ 3 A.M., I didn’t care. I’m going to
yell!
“Okay, which one of you fuckers left the goddamned toilet seat up down
here!? I swear to god, when I figure out who you are, I’m going to cut the
crotches out of all your pants, you assholes!” I threatened, screaming at the top
of my lungs so hard, feeling my cheeks tense with heat. Both face cheeks and
ass cheeks alike. To be fair, they aren’t really assholes, but my asshole was
swimming in toilet water and I’m humiliated. So, for right now? Everyone is an
asshole.
I heard the scrambling of awkward male feet as they cower in their rooms,
safe and snug in their beds from my ire. “You bastards, I swear…” I muttered
under my breath, as I unceremoniously propped my hands on either side of the
bowl, and awkwardly lifted myself up. My buttcheeks dripped toilet water from
them, and I reached for the toilet paper in the holder so I could dry off my poor,
pride-stung butt.
The cardboard roll spun in the holder, but I didn’t touch cushiony softness.
Oh no, I touched…an empty toilet paper roll.
And then, I saw red in my eyes. There was only one explanation to the
culprit of this toilet travesty.
TRYSTAN!” I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs. The former
eagle-shifter had a slobby streak to him, and maybe it’s because of his birdbrain,
or his laziness, but I’ve caught him twice now not replacing the roll when
he’s finished.
I can’t be sure, but I’m almost positive I heard a muffled, “Och, shite!”
from the game room down the hallway, as a door slammed shut. I heard him
dashing away, up the stairs, assumedly to his room.
And can we just discuss just how often men go through entire rolls of toilet
paper? I’ll replace the damn thing in the morning, and by nighttime, it’s totally
gone. What the hell do they do in there!? Keep in mind, they each have their own
bathrooms too!
On second thought… I didn’t want to know.
I cringed now for two reasons: one, the image I’m trying to shove out of my
mind of one of the guys doing yucky things in the bathroom, and two, trying to
reach my short ass arms about three feet away to the vanity under the sink for the
toilet paper. I prayed to the gods—any of them that would listen—that Xander
and his O.C.D. cleaning habits haven’t disappointed me, and properly stockpiled
it with plenty of toilet paper.
I hovered in the bathroom over the bowl, ass swinging in the air, pants at
my ankles, squatting at my knees, and tried to reach the handle of the cabinet. I
managed to pull it open successfully, and I blindly reached in. “Success! Thank
you, Xander!” I yanked out a couple of rolls and ripped off a wad to dab my ass
off, sighing with happiness that I was dry.
I haven’t even done my business yet, either.
I plopped the wooden-toilet seat down with a bang, hoping that whoever
was around got the hint. They’ve probably all scattered like scared cats now,
because they know the first guy I see is going to get my wrath. Even Xander, for
his obsession with putting blue bleach tablets in each tank. I couldn’t be totally
for sure that my butt wasn’t blue now from it. I would go easier on him, though,
because he had enough sense to make sure the bathroom was properly stocked at
least.
And yes, this was just part of the fun of living with four guys. It’s not all
orgies, spankings, and afternoon delights. No, it’s actually much different than
that. I now pitied the mothers out there, who have husbands and all sons—I
couldn’t imagine. At least my boys were fine as hell, and it gave me something
to look at.
Right now, I wondered why I put myself through it all. But aside from the
occasional “piggery”, the guys are actually quite wonderful. Over the past
month, we’ve grown close, and I’ve implanted myself into their home, and their
lives—with their insistence, of course.
It didn’t seem that long ago that my weird “invisible” magic was just that—
weird. I just thought I was crazy.
I, Avalon “Ava” Dawson, had lived a boring, humble life in a Minneapolis
suburb in a duplex with my best friend, Summer Santiago, and my mother. And
my mother wasn’t this evil, nasty witch.
I meant that literally—she is an evil witch. My eccentric, loopy mother
turned out to be Morgaine Le Fey—yes, that Morgaine from all the legends—in
glamour, posing as my mother. Okay, she actually is my mother. And Sir
Lancelot? Actually my father. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?
And the guys—the four guys I now lived with—ended up saving me from a
dangerous ritual my mother kidnapped me for, where I was imbued with the
magic of the mystical isle of Avalon. I had no idea what’s going on inside me,
and still don’t really, except the fact that it seems to be…active. I was able to
heal the guys from their injuries before, but lately? It had some surprising
effects. Like, I’m charged and ready to go all the time (I’m horny, okay?), but it
came with a bummer of a side effect. When I become aroused—which around
these dudes was all the time—it just felt… wrong somehow. I needed to learn
how to control it, and hopefully the guys could help. With their varied
backgrounds, they all had a bit of knowledge and supernatural life experience at
their fingertips. Oh, and they’re immortal incubus demons, cursed at various
times by Morgaine over the years. She’s been busy for a long, long time.
Mathias was a former Roman gladiator, with superhuman strength and
speed. Trystan was an eagle shifter from Scotland from the time of the
Highlanders and clans. Sebastian—Bash—was from colonial Virginia; he is a
borderline genius, and an alchemist witch who was burned at the stake for trying
to save his village from illness. Lastly, Xander was the youngest at two-hundredsomething
years old, and an immigrant from China during the California Gold
Rush, where his father sold him into slavery. He also had the amazing ability to
channel the weather into magic he wielded at his fingertips.
And wouldn’t you know it? Morgaine, with her evil magic, had cursed
hundreds of men for hundreds of years, like my incubi, to steal life energies from
women. The sexual energy the incubi extracted from the women when they were
together, was transferred somehow into Morgaine, to help her remain immortal,
until she could unleash the Avalon magic into me, and use me to remain that
way. Somehow. She didn’t count on four of her lost incubi to come into my life;
she’d lost track of them over the years because they denied their incubus
instincts and refused to “attack” women for their life energies, only taking
enough from them by not allowing themselves to orgasm during their couplings.
Because her orgasm triggered the life force, the incubus’ orgasm is when they’d
take her life force. I didn’t like thinking about it, but it was a reality they lived
with for many years. As a result, their innate supernatural abilities are partially
weakened, and they cannot have a relationship with anyone except a special kind
of supernatural being. The incubus magic renders the woman obsessed and
irrational afterwards, but more than one coupling between the woman and
incubus, no matter if he takes her life energy or not, will always result in death.
The only kind of supe impervious to their magic is a cambion; a child of a
human and an incubus.
It’s not in the history books, but Lancelot—now known as Lachlan Steele—
was the first person cursed as an incubus by my mother for not reciprocating her
“affections”. And later, she glamoured herself into someone different, found
Lancelot again many, many years later and charmed him into sleeping with her
to conceive me. So, that makes me a cambion. Convenient, huh? My
supernatural heritage, and strange “invisible” abilities I got from my father also
made me a prime candidate to be a vessel for the magic from Avalon. How it’s
possible an entire island of magic could fit into a clay vessel that held it for so
many years, or me, I had no idea. But my mother was betting on the stealth
magic to help hide the magic from the outside world; at least that was the guys’
theory.
Aside from all that, I was the first cambion any of the guys’ had
encountered in hundreds of years. Because of that, we decided for now to, um,
share me. It sounded crazy, but they knew there was little chance of ever
encountering another cambion ever again; we were apparently extremely,
extremely rare. And that brought me to here.
As I spaced out, still sitting on the commode trying to recover from the
traumatic potty situation, my full bladder reminded me that I still hadn’t done
what I came in for. I shook myself out of my daze, and finally did my bathroom
business. I set the toilet paper on the holder knowing fully well it would annoy
someone, and placed the other roll on the back of the commode. You know, for
next time. I’ll probably be using it tomorrow.
I padded down the hallway to the kitchen. There’s always a night light on in
every room, and I’m thankful for that because I’m still not one-hundred percent
confident about the layout of the house. It’s so much bigger than where I lived
most of my life, and I still got turned around, especially at night.
I entered the kitchen and go straight for the fridge. Opening the Frenchstyle
steel doors, I scanned the contents. I’m not sure what I wanted, but I know
I wanted something really bad for me because after the potty calamity, I was
crabby as hell. Mathias refused to keep a lot of junk food in the house—which I
found a bit ridiculous. With their incubus-bodies, they didn’t gain weight. It
won’t clog their arteries or make them ill because they’re friggin’ immortal. Me,
however —there’s still a chance, even with my half-witch, half incubus, all
cambion heritage I could gain about five-hundred pounds. I was willing to take
that risk, though, right now.

Invisible
The Curse of Avalon Book 1

My name is Ava Dawson. Ever since I was young, I have had this strange “gift” of invisibility. I can’t explain it, nor can I always control it. It affects my work, my personal life, dating—all but my mother and best friend seem to be affected. No matter what I do, I seem to always be forgotten.


Until I meet these gorgeous guys during a girls’ night out, and there’s something strangely alluring about them. An ancient curse brings us together, while a group of supernatural “Collectors” is threatening to tear us apart. They’re targeting people with special abilities like mine, and all four men have taken it upon themselves to protect me. But with their complicated pasts, I can’t help but feel protective of them, too. I’m trying not to get in over my head, with these men, and the magic. 

But I have to admit, It’s nice to be seen after years of being invisible.

*Author's Note: this book is 'reverse harem;' meaning, one woman, multiple love interests. This series is meant for readers 18+ only




“So, what do you do for a living?”
I looked across the table at my dining companion. The dirty blond-haired man had a fork in one hand, and his phone in the other. His thumb swept across the screen rapidly, his eyes darting back and forth as he stared.
I blinked once, and sighed heavily. Great. Another one. Clearly, he didn’t hear a word I said.
I don’t know really why I was surprised; it always happened. Girl rarely goes on dates, when girl does, girl gets ignored by guy who is more interested in his phone. Or the sports game on the big screen across the room, or ogling the waitresses. Anything but the girl.
Glancing at my silver wrist watch, I could see that we’d only been here forty-five minutes. Long enough to order drinks and our meals. He’d been on his phone for forty of that.
I swallowed a large swig of my ice tea and slammed the glass down on the table, just hard enough to make a noise, hoping it would bring him out of his phone-induced stupor. The silverware on the table rattled, the plates full of food shook, but the man didn’t appear rattled. His name was James, but right now he was just “the man.” Because like all the others, he was being completely rude by ignoring me.
“Wow, that’s interesting!” I said loudly. “Sure beats my job at the morgue. Seeing frozen penises all day long really gets quite hard.” I stifled a chuckle at my own lame joke. I didn’t really work at a morgue—that would be disgusting—but surely either the word “morgue” or “penis” would get his attention finally. It didn’t. His eyes remained glued to the screen, although now his fork had dropped, and he was typing messages with both thumbs into the phone.
I scowled. “Yep. It gets really interesting doing what I do, dealing with the genital warts I have. It’s the worst, but I have a cream that eases the chafing. Looks like hell but you don’t mind red, itchy clitorises, do you?” Surely, clitoris had to get his attention.
Nope.
Time to pull out the big guns.
I looked down and unfastened two buttons on my black cardigan sweater. Adjusting my boobs so they nearly spilled out, I leaned over the table, coughing loudly.
My date glanced up from his phone momentarily. His eyes grazed me briefly. “I’m sorry, Eve, were you saying something?” Before I could respond, his phone buzzed and he was back to typing away.
I sat up straight. “It’s Ava, jerk. Seriously, I get it if you are not interested in me, but I at least deserve enough respect to have you set your fucking phone down.”
“You’re absolutely right, Evie,” he said, bobbing his head in agreement, still texting away on his phone.
I rolled my eyes. I grabbed my purse next to me, pulled a $20 out of my wallet, and slapped it on the table. “You’re a dickhole.” I stood up, shoving the chair into the table forcefully and stomped through the restaurant; leaving the rest of my drink and uneaten meal behind. James didn’t even glance up as I stormed off to my car in the parking lot.
Summer is going to get it, I thought angrily to myself, as I drove home. She promised me this guy would be different; that she swore that her friend’s brother was a nice, upstanding guy.
Ha.
And maybe he was, but I had the worst luck with men. Ever. I was just completely invisible to them. James wasn’t the first man this had happened with. Literally, since I was old enough to realize I liked boys and had crushes, I’ve always been ignored; looked over for the prettier girl. The popular girl. The easy girl.
Somewhere along the line you think boys would have grown up, but clearly, they haven’t. Now though, they couldn’t know I wasn’t the popular girl or the promiscuous girl right off the bat. They didn’t even bother to get to know me first.
Hell, I very well could be the slutty girl, if given a chance! But this was at least the third date I’d gone on all summer where the guy couldn’t get off of his phone. And it was only the second week of July. Summer just started.

Sariah Skye physically resides in southern Minnesota with her husband, two kids and a dog (so really...3 children) but mentally her head is in the clouds dreaming of anything that doesn't require adulting. 

When not writing she's probably geeking out watching Star Trek, playing World of Warcraft, reading yet another fantasy book or staying up way too late. She'd love it if you dropped her a line at Facebook or Twitter but be prepared...she's a nictofiliac so be patient for a response while her eyes adjust to the light of day and beware of sarcasm. It helps to throw her chocolate or glitter first before engaging. Wine is also acceptable...but not to throw. Hand it over gently.




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