Romance Novel Giveaways - Freebies and Giveaways of All Things Romance Romance Novel Giveaways: Her Fiery Viking by A.J. Tipton ♥ Review & GIVEAWAY ♥ (Paranormal Romance)

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Her Fiery Viking by A.J. Tipton ♥ Review & GIVEAWAY ♥ (Paranormal Romance)




Mikkel just might be too hot to handle. He's an ancient Viking, cursed with immortality and the compulsion to burst into an uncontrollable ball of fire when enraged. After centuries of tragedy, Mikkel fears the fury within him and the danger he poses to anyone he lets too close.

But when Joanna, a smart, sexy engineer angry at the world, explodes into his life, Mikkel can’t resist her smoldering allure. Has the time finally come to let someone in and embrace the fire? Or will their fiery passion scorch these lovers?

This mature romance includes incendiary bar room shenanigans, harrowing kidnapping, high speed car escapades, and a love strong enough to heal even the most damaged of hearts.

NOTE: Each book in the "Her Elemental Viking" series stands on its own and can be read in any order.


Holy smokes! ;)

The premise to this story was so unique, and I just knew an awesome story was in between these virtual covers!

While I think the story could have been a little longer and maybe the tension between Mikkel and Jo drawn out a little more, what tension WAS there was totally hot!

I enjoyed reading Mike because he was burdened and vulnerable. He was aware of both aspects of himself, and he worked hard to become a better person in spite of them.

Jo was much the same way. I liked her because she was VERY feisty, and she and Mike played well off of each other.

I was wondering how the book would end with a Happily Ever After, given his immortality and her lackthereof, but I felt AJ ended the story in a perfect way for these two!

***I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review***



The new secretary was turning out spectacularly--her fists pounded rhythmically against the top of his wide mahogany desk as he thrust into her hard from behind. The most recent in a string of secretaries--Sissy? Sally? It was something innocuous and forgettable like that--talked way too much for his taste. Mikkel resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes at her breathless demands.
“More! Give it to me! Oh God, harder! More! More! God! Oh yes! More!” He reached forward and covered her mouth with his hand, dampening her screams before the entire office figured out what they were up to. After waiting a few more seconds for her bucking orgasm to subside, he pulled out and came onto her flawless ass. Bored, Mikkel yawned. He had heard it all before.
Taking tremendous effort to stifle the second yawn trying to force its way past his lips, Mikkel ran his fingers through his short blond hair. Centuries of misbehaving had allowed him to enjoy women of nearly every variety--young and old, royalty and commoner. He honed his sexual prowess on priestesses and princesses, pharaohs and peasants, but for some reason he couldn't resist the indefinable allure of his company’s secretaries. It certainly didn’t hurt that these women took one good look at his chiseled features, ironclad abs and rippling biceps and threw themselves at him.
This newest secretary--Mikkel was now nearly certain her name was Samantha--accepted the box of Kleenex he passed over as she cleaned herself up. She blinked at him rapidly with a poor approximation of a pin-up’s sultry smile plastered on her face. It would have been more effective if the rest of her expression wasn't so...vague. He helped her clean up and he guided her through the office door as quickly as he could.
“This was great, Stephanie.” He said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. Even Cleopatra knew to not write him back when he called her Livia. “It was a really...” He deliberately paused, waiting for her to expect the complement, “...special time.”
The woman barely glanced at him. Mikkel couldn't help feeling slightly miffed. She'd had threeorgasms--surely some reaction made sense. This chick already had her phone out and was playing a fairly intense game involving matching tiles.
She finished a level and put the phone away, glancing around, obviously waiting for something. He couldn't imagine who she was waiting for. She'd only started at Firewall Demolitions a few days ago, and she hadn't bothered to get to know anyone but him. Most of the employees had dispersed for lunch, and the hallways leading to Mikkel’s office were nearly deserted. A tall brunette man in navy plaid pants, matching suspenders, and a white button up rounded the corner of the taupe-painted hallway flipping through a stack of reports.
“It’s Lizzie!” she shrieked, thrilled an audience had arrived at last. She stomped her heeled foot so hard Mikkel worried about her shoe's lifespan. “God, you are like the worst boss ever!” she spat hatefully, pointing a meticulously-manicured nail accusingly at his face.
“Sorry to break this to you sweetheart, but he’s not the boss,” Nick shifted the reports into a neat stack under his arm, his light blue eyes following the red nail to Mikkel. “Oh no...” he chuckled, “Did you go and waste all that enthusiasm on a low level demo guy? I certainly hope he ‘gave it to you’ all right.”
“Jesus, Nick, ‘low level?' You cut me deep!” Mikkel chuckled with mock outrage. He swiftly ducked as Lizzie’s nails raked the air where his face had just been. Thousand-year-old Viking reflexes had their uses sometimes.
“YOU AREN’T THE BOSS?!” Another well-clawed swipe barely missed Mikkel’s broad, muscled chest and her pink bedazzled cell phone went flying.
“Trust me, tiger, you do not have a chance with the boss,” Nick said with a sly smile. He picked up the flung device and handed it over with a quick wink. “He’s my husband.”
Lizzie’s face turned into a mask of pure disgust as she processed this information.
“Come on ‘boss man’ let’s get going to the noon meeting, eh?" Nick punched Mikkel's shoulder, laughing. Lizzie's exquisite ass huffed away in the opposite direction. "We mere minions would be lost without your wisdom and leadership, oh great one.” They walked together through the labyrinth-like office building.
“Shut the hell up Nick-erbocker." He'd once drunkenly bet Nick he could make him a new nickname every day for a full week and had won; afterwards the habit just stuck. "I didn’t tell her I was the boss. But how can I deny a sweet sexy thing--” Mikkel gestured up and down, encompassing his broad shoulders, chiseled abs, and perfectly rounded ass, “all of this?”
“Truly it would be a crime against womankind,” Nick said with fake reverence, bowing his head and placing his hand on his heart. “Although, you couldn’t wait a week? Your Little Miss Claws has only been here a hot second, and I’m like 90% sure her crazy ass is going to quit or burn the place down. You know how I hate paperwork and towering infernos. Although firemen-” Nick was cut off mid-sentence by the short, greasy looking Dwayne, walking their way.
“Heard you having a real good time with the new girl, Mikey," Dwayne said with a sneer. He picked at some dandruff covering his shoulder pad-enhanced jacket as they made their way through the corridors. “Tell me, do all your lays have to give you such detailed instructions, or do they typically just give up and accept you don’t know what you’re doing?”
“Shut the fuck up, jackass," Nick shot out. "You wouldn’t know a woman having a good time if she danced all over you.” Mikkel grinned at his friend appreciatively. Nick might give him a hard time, but he had his back, especially against vermin like Dwayne.
"At least my women know how to shut up," Dwayne's smile didn't so much tilt up as slyly curve deeper into his face.
Mikkel knew Dwayne was a worthless little weasel who always talked shit, but still he felt a hot rage flash up in his chest. He could feel it like a firestorm building in his core, kindling and sparking and waiting to build and burn down everything in its path. Over the years, Mikkel had known millions with bad tempers, even a few berserkers who lost their humanity when their rage overtook their minds. In a way, he envied them their rage; they didn't have to face the kinds of consequences he did when his anger boiled over.
Breathe in, breathe out. You can't let it out here. Nick was standing in a highly populated area; he couldn’t let his temper go here. Dwayne isn't worth the cost.
He filled his lungs with air and concentrated on a full breath and the cleansing release of the exhale. He unclenched his fists as he felt the bubbling rage subside enough to face Dwayne and calmly quote:
“Anger and intolerance are the enemies of correct understanding. Gandhi.”
Dwayne rolled his eyes, muttering “Oh, I’ll give you Gandhi...” as the men arrived at their afternoon meeting. The conference room was home to the same thrilling florescent light and taupe walls as the hallways, but it was lined wall to wall with photos of structures mid-demolition. A team of visiting architects once burst out crying when they saw the wall of destroyed structural marvels, but to the demolition team the explosions were true works of art. The photos filled Mikkel with pride every time he saw them; they were tributes to precisely-placed devices, well-timed detonations, and thoroughly conquered territory. He chuckled inwardly. Father would be proud. Once a Viking, always a Viking.
The meeting was nothing special; schedules were synchronized and projects were foisted on unsuspecting newbies. The new structural engineer was arriving tomorrow, along with a new secretary. Mikkel brushed off his coworkers’ jabs and thinly-veiled insinuations about the rate they seemed to go through administrative staff. New accounts were discussed and blueprints were thrown around like confetti. Three cups of coffee and two hours later, they were released out into the world. Time to blow some shit up.

***

Joanna Baltz pounded the wheel of her Ford Pinto with enough force to rattle the radio in its not-quite-secure moorings. The radio had been stuck on the same channel for the last half hour and the edges of her vision tinged red. The commentators jabbered on and on about how some famous guy she'd never heard of punched another famous guy she'd never heard of. Wasn't there more going on in the world? Joanna banged the scan button for the thirty-seventh time, but the station barely flickered. Every single caller railed like they were accepting the Holy Spirit, their testimonials proclaiming the punch was a sign of the two guys' secret attraction for each other. It was only a matter of time--one woman railed in a voice so high it buzzed Joanna's speakers--before the two men were caught by the tabloids making out in assless-chaps.
How can this be the only thing all these people want to talk about? Joanna held the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned three shades paler.
"Aren't there wars going on out there?" Joanna muttered at the steering wheel. "Diseases sweeping through countries? Massive injustices being perpetuated all over the place?" In hospital beds around the world, people were dying of preventable diseases, preventable accidents. People with families. People with sisters. Joanna took a deep breath. In and out, her therapist said. Just concentrate on the breathing
"Way to use a blinker, asshole!" she screamed at the silver BMW in front of her. She threw the driver a middle finger while pressing down hard on her car horn. The loud blast from her car matched the off-tone rage screaming inside her head. A white sedan tried to nudge in front of her to get into the exit lane.
"Fuck off!" she screamed. "You could have merged forty-seven feet ago!" The white sedan swerved away back into the middle lane and Joanna got a look at the driver as she pulled up alongside. The woman wasn't a day younger than eighty with three screaming children in the back seat.
"Shit," Joanna muttered, tapping the brakes and flashing her lights until the old woman caught her eye and Joanna slowed enough to let her merge off the exit ramp with inches to spare.
She sighed and rubbed for forehead as she turned into the parking lot. Your temper could get someone killed, her cousin told her.
Breathe in. Breathe out. The engine made small popping sounds as it cooled. Joanna concentrated on loosening her grip on the steering wheel and counted her blessings. I am grateful for a new job. I am grateful for a new start. I am grateful to have my health. I am grateful for my shitty-ass car. I am grateful for my shitty-ass apartment with the showerhead that doesn't work. I am grateful for my hobbies. She stopped, amended. My hobby. Which consists of sitting in a bar drinking my liver to death so I don't go after the world with a tire iron. I am grateful for...she ran out of things to say. She punched the steering wheel again, and the radio fell out with a thunk.
"Well, I can tell Dr. Therapist his stress-reliever technique is bullshit." she muttered.
This was not the way she wanted to start her first day on the new job. She pushed the radio back into the dash, reapplied the duct tape, and climbed from her car.
The derelict office building's entrance loomed in front of her like a gaping mouth, with plastic sheets hanging from the doorway like crooked teeth. Looking up at the building's massive expanse, she could already see three points where they were going to need extra charges for a controlled fall. She pulled her notebook out to add a quick sketch of the building, making note of her observation before she got distracted by first-day introductions. This was the part of the job she liked the best. Buildings were simple. Physics determined where and how they would fall. Simple reliable rules dictated where and how to place explosives so the entire building would crumble in a controlled rapid descent.
"Hey there, sweet-cheeks," came a nasally, high-pitched voice.
People, on the other hand...
She could see the voice's owner out of the corner of her eye; an outline of a paunch straining his beltline and thinning greasy hair pulled back in a wispy mullet. He leaned against the nearest industrial dumpster, one hand tucked inside his belt in what was probably supposed to be a come-hither pose.
"My cheeks don't look as sweet with 50,000 volts running through your slimy ass," she smiled sweetly. Her hand itched to grab the taser inside her purse, but Joanna grabbed a pencil instead. Her cousin, the lawyer, would be very proud of her restraint.
________________________________________
End of this sample Kindle book.











AJ Tipton is the pseudonym of a writing team: Annie and Jessica (Get it? “AJ.” You get it). Blessed with imaginations too big for their corporate day-jobs, we spend our evenings co-writing erotic stories that amuse us and hope will also amuse others. Our running document of ideas for future series–everything from sex-robots to ghost brothels–will keep us busy for many years to come, so follow us on your preferred social media platform and let us know what series you like best. We love to hear from readers. Some common questions we get are below:


WHAT’S COMING UP NEXT?
There are several projects in the works. We are definitely going to finish up the dragon shifter motorcycle club book series that started with Saved By Her Dragon Mate: A BBW Interracial Paranormal Romance and continued with Her Delicious Dragon: A Tiger & Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance. There are three more books still go: Caesar’s (the sensitive rock star dragon shifter), Alec’s (trans tech-wizard dragon shifter), and Big Joe/Emma possibly/finally getting together.

WHAT’S YOUR WRITING PROCESS LIKE?
Writing as a pair can be complicated, but on the plus side it halves the work, keeps us accountable to keep writing, and doubles the ideas. We start with our grand archive of ideas (we’ve got over a hundred future book ideas and still going strong) and then go to a bar and outline what we think the general plot is going to be, the backstories of the characters and their motivations, and the arc of how the main plot events are going to pan out.

From there, we go home and make a very detailed outline on Google docs, working through the kinks of logical cause and effect and if certain actions would make sense for that character. We try to see if we can work Lola into the plot, because we love her and she has a strange way of writing herself. Then we chart out which character perspective makes sense for each plot point. As our books (so far) are told from multiple points of view, we figure out which of us most identifies with a certain point of view and then… let the writing commence!

The first draft we write for each of our characters. Some books it’s easier to see the different writing styles than others. Annie wrote Jo’s perspective in “Her Fiery Viking,” Jessica wrote Audrey’s perspective in “Her Steamy Viking,” and so on. After the first draft, we dive into the other’s section with enthusiastic additions and merciless cuts. The more books we write, the less shy we’ve become in editing each other’s character sections, leading to a more streamlined writing style that’s become a true blend of our different styles.

DOES WRITING TOGETHER CAUSE DRAMA?
It helps that we’ve been friends for over ten years and our strengths complement each other. Annie tends to write three adjectives when one (or none) is better, and marinate in backstory and character development. Jessica typically forgets to describe the scene or characters, but has no trouble axing the unnecessary adjectives and lyrical verbiage and writes better action and sex scenes. So by our powers combined, we’ve managed to turn out a lot of work in a relatively short period of time.

HOW DO YOU GET THESE GREAT COVERS?
Fiverr. After trying a few different artists for different books, we’ve settled on using a wonderful woman, Lydia Chai (her site is here) who turns out beautiful work very quickly for $5. All of our current covers are her creation. We provide the stock footage photos (subject and background) and she puts it all together. Tip her generously, she’s an artist.

WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR IDEAS?
Wine.

WHAT’S LOLA’S DEAL?
We’re not telling…for now… although we welcome theories. :)

HOW CAN I GET STARTED DOING SOMETHING LIKE THIS?
Just go for it! Seriously, we were sitting around having drinks one day talking about the various smut books we’d read and loved and went “we can do this, let’s do this.” So we ran home and pounded out the first draft of “Her Steamy Viking” in under two weeks. Uploading self-published books on Amazon is incredibly easy, the entire system is designed to make author’s lives easier. There is no longer any reason to keep your great “next American sex book” in the drawer or posted in a dark corner of the Internet for free. Upload and share with the world! For money!



    


Win an Audiobook copy of Her Fiery Viking!
***This prize is authorized and being provided by A.J. Tipton***



@AJTiptonAuthor http://goo.gl/N4PzJ1 pic.twitter.com/Kc1t0iX8xA

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