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Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Anne Conley's Four Winds PNR Series

Anne Conley is an author with a spiritual side.  Mostly known for her contemporary romances, set in Serendipity, Texas, she also has a series of books about the Archangels.  The Four Winds are God's closest archangels, having helped him for since the dawn of time.  He sees they're tired, and humanity has rubbed off on them, to varying degrees, so he decides to let them "fall" as long as it's in love.  Meet Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael, like you've never seen them before..  Anne has attempted to reconcile her Christian upbringing with her smutty side, with great results.

Book One:  Falling for Heaven  FREE!!  FREE!!  FREE!!  FREE!!

Uriel is one of God's Four Winds, the Archangel of Destiny. He has helped thousands of people throughout the ages find their destiny according to His will. This time however, what he doesn't realize, is that it's his own destiny he's supposed to fulfill. 
Heather is an exotic dancer, whose stage name is Heaven. It's not what she's always wanted to do, but it helps her pay the bills, and she's got a lot of bills, with taking care of her mother and her sister. When the mysterious Uriel comes into the club, she can tell he's different -- just how different will rock her world...

Hot cover, yes?  I should freaking say so...

Book Two in her Four Winds series is Falling for Grace.
Rafael is one of God’s Four Winds, the Archangel of Healing. He has answered the countless prayers for healing of loved ones, wondering what it was about the emotion that made humans willing to sacrifice so much. 

Grace is a lifeguard who has been on Rafe’s radar since she lost a little boy three years ago. What she doesn’t realize is the green haze that comes over her during a rescue is actually a divine presence who’s about to give up his celestial body to become a very real entity in her life. 

While Grace is trying to overcome her own demon, Rafe is discovering his own sexuality, but there’s a darker presence making himself known. The Deceiver wants what Rafe is getting, and he’ll do whatever it takes to have her.


This crazy man had worked his way completely under her skin, and she was beginning to doubt her own sanity.
            She was overwhelmed suddenly with images of Rafe, sensations of his touch on her skin.  His kisses.  She lowered her head into her hands and groaned aloud, earning herself amused looks from neighboring tables.
            Grace couldn't get him out of her head. 
            "I'm not leaving."
            The voice again.  Jeez, she was imagining him inside her head, his voice inside her head.
            "You're not crazy."  His voice was soft, reassuring.  "And neither am I."
            She made a conscious decision to talk back to him, being careful to keep it in her head.  Grace didn't need any more looks from restaurant patrons.  "Yes, you are.  And I am, too.  I'm talking to you, aren't I?"  Her “inside the head” voice was a whisper, as if she didn't even want herself to hear.
            His chuckle in her head made her warm all over.  "Call me, Grace.  I can explain some of this."    
            "Why do I need to call you?  Apparently, we can talk this way."
            "Because you don't believe this is really happening."
            "You're right.  I'm deluded."  Apparently, this part came out aloud, because the waitress had just arrived with her chili-cheese fries and gave her a strange look.
            "You okay, hon?"  Grace nodded, before digging into her greasy comfort food.
            "Are you?"  The voice inside her head was persistent, and pissing her off.
            "No.  I'm not.  I'm seeing things.  I'm talking to myself.  The only guy I can't stop thinking about is insane, I've effectively lost my job.  I'm living in a hotel room.  No I'm not okay!"  She mentally screamed it at her imaginary Rafe voice.
            "I'm coming to you."
            "Fine, then."  He sounded hurt, and Grace felt guilty for hurting her imaginary friend's feelings.
            "Just leave me alone."
            "No."  The voice inside her head was resolute.  "I can make you want me."
            Suddenly, Grace felt warm and she could feel the flush rise up her cheeks.  She already wanted him.  That was part of the problem.  Rafe chuckled inside her head.  Suddenly, an intense pressure registered between her legs, and she crossed them.  Her stomach sank.  He could get inside her head, but could he do this?
            "Yes.  I can."  She wasn't aware that she had consciously asked the question, but she couldn't
squeeze her legs together hard enough to relieve the pressure, so she shifted in her seat, looking around to see if anybody was watching her.
            Her breasts felt fuller suddenly, and her nipples were tingly and erect.  She could feel the blood flow to her nether regions, and she sat up straight, arching her back to press down on the seat.
            "Would you stop?"  She hissed inside her head. 
            "Shh…I'm concentrating."  She could almost feel his hands on her body, sending shivers of delight across her skin.  Grace couldn't stop squirming in her seat, feeling the invisible pressure build at the apex of her thighs.  She tried to squirm and press the seam of her shorts against herself, but it was only making the sensations worse.  She looked around again, to make sure nobody was looking before pressing her hand against her sex, under the table.  Another chuckle from inside her head.
            Her mouth was dry, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but she couldn't.  Her breath was coming in gasps, and she willed herself to not succumb to the desire that was filling her body.  Keeping her body still and afraid to breathe, Grace pressed her hand against the crotch of her shorts, willing whatever was coming to come.  Just do it quietly.
            The pressure was so intense she could barely breathe, and she could feel waves of heat crashing through her body.  "Come on, Rafe…Just do it…Please."  Her voice inside her head was a desperate plea.  Nothing had ever made her feel this before.  Not even herself.
            “Really?”  The voice in her head sounded smug.
            “Do it or stop messing with me.  Please…”  She had crossed her legs, then wrapped her foot around her calf, squeezing furiously, hand on her crotch pressing to relieve pressure.  She was almost out of her mind.
            “I’m coming to you.  I need you to be thinking of me this way.  We could be so good together.”
            His voice inside her head was picking at her seams, unravelling her with its husky depth.  And then it was gone, leaving her aching with need.

Book Three in the Four Winds Series by Anne Conley, is Falling for Hope.

Hope is an eccentric librarian who lives with her five cats and loves to spend her time fantasizing about living in a world of shape-shifters, vampires, and fairies. Although the existence of a paranormal world is far from Hope's reality, she can't help but sense there's something different about the mysterious man lurking in her library. 

Gabriel is God's Strength, the Messenger, who's been tasked with delivering the Word for millennia. His most recent assignment will be his last, to fall in love and become human. But he can't quite figure out what he's done to displease the Boss. Gabriel's latest assignment might be the hardest, but this gorgeous rubenesque quirk of a woman definitely has him intrigued.

Okay, probably the coolest part of this particular book is the heroine, a quirky librarian who lives inside her own fantasy-land of the paranormal romances she reads.  She's not the least bit surprised to meet an archangel.  Haha!
And the cover has books on it.  That's pretty cool, too.  
But the whole reason for this particular post is the latest release in the series, which coincidentally, is the entire reason Anne wrote the series:  The archangel of War's story.  Falling for Faith...

In this, the fourth book in the Four Winds Series, the story is more intense, Damien is more intense, the sex is more intense. The entire series thus far has escalated into this, the archangel of war's story.

Michael, the archangel of war, is pissed. Humanity has taken every last vestige of any feelings he might have had and colored them in with cynicism. He’s ready to be done. So when The Boss gives him the deal, he’s eager for his mortality, at any cost, regardless of who he has to ‘fall in love’ with to get it. Blessed death. That’s what he’s looking forward to. When he finds out what Faith does for a living, he’s pissed off all over again.

Faith is a cat burglar, but when she inadvertently makes a deal with Damien, Michael steps in to protect what is rightfully his. She’s not over her own tragic past, and this hulking bundle of hotness can’t change that. But when he insists on protecting her, claiming her, and dominating her, she is powerless to deny her own emotions.

For mature audiences. Contains swear words, sex, elements of BDSM, and possibly heretical viewpoints. 
“You’re a troglodyte.”

He barked laughter at her, which only made her squirm more.  He crawled up her body to still her, quite enjoying the feel of her under him.  “Get the fuck off me,” she spat at him.

“Only if you tell me your name, Sweetheart.”  Michael lowered his hips on top of hers, trying not to think too hard about the position he was putting them in.  Her heaving breasts were touching his chest, and they were really fucking soft.  He could feel her heart pounding under her shirt and told himself he wasn’t scaring her.  He smirked.  “I’m Michael.  Your turn.”  He could feel her legs squirming under his and he used his feet to pin them.  She sighed, rolling her eyes.  It was a bit dramatic, so he humored her.

“Untie me, and I’ll tell you my name.”

“Promise not to attack me anymore.”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth in thought and looked at him through glassy eyes.  She was gorgeous.  “Faith,” she whispered.

Michael stilled on his journey up her body.  Did He choose the women for their names?  It sounded like something He would do. Was the name choice part of the allure?  “Of course.”  He reached over her head and let the ropes loose, entwining his fingers with hers and bringing them between them, looking at the nearly perfect specimen of feminine wiles under him. 

Faith.  Because Michael had lost Faith in his Father?

Whatever.  She was still his.

He watched her, as he hovered over her body, his hands still clasping hers.  She clutched at his fingers as if he were a lifeline, and she still heaved ragged gasps. Michael had been around a long time and knew his way around a woman’s body.  Her pulse raced in her neck, he could smell a sweet sweat just under her skin, her cheeks flushed.

Faith was turned on.

He could use this to his advantage, and it wouldn’t be a hardship.  Not at all.

Michael released her hands and slowly lowered his mouth to hers until there was only a whisper of breath between them.  “I swear to you, I’m not the enemy here.”  He continued, with something he hoped she would understand, “If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt; if you know Heaven and know Earth, you may make your victory complete.”

Then, to his surprise, she broached the distance and kissed him.  It was a passionate kiss, one that distracted him beyond reason.  Her hot little tongue slipped past his lips, and Michael couldn’t find himself if he tried.  Her mouth was so warm and wet, reminiscent of other orifices, and his manhood popped to attention as he forgot the mission, forgot the trouble she’d gotten herself in, and reveled in the feel of her mouth. 

She groaned into him, and he ate the sounds, uncaring about why he was doing this anymore.  He’d never experienced a kiss this demanding, this fervid, in a long time.  It was his undoing.

Faith arched under him, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and pulling, while her other hand snaked around his neck, pulling him closer.  He continued exploring the cavern of her mouth as she raised her knee, and with one swift upward thrust, kicked his armpit, adjusting his posture.  In a seamless move, she rolled, scissoring her legs around his torso, and he found himself on the ground next to the sofa, wrapped in a jujitsu hold that was cutting off his air supply quickly.
She had one arm and his neck between powerful thighs, squeezing him into unconsciousness.
Yeah, this might be fun.

He eased his hand between her leg and his neck, unwrapping himself from her tenacious grip.  Holding both of her hands in his, for self-protection more than anything else, he got in her face, taking much needed gasps of oxygen.  His corporeal form may not feel pain, but it did have some limits.

“I’ll leave.  It’s plain you’re not listening.  But hear this.”  His mouth a whisper away from hers, “You’re mine.  He won’t get you.”

Book buy links on Amazon:

About Anne:  Anne has written her entire life and has the boxes of angst-filled journals and poetry to prove it.  She’s been writing for public consumption for the last four years.  Currently she is writing two romance series.  In Stories of Serendipity, she explores real people living real lives in small town Texas in a contemporary romance setting.  In The Four Winds, she chronicles God’s four closest archangels, Uriel, Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael, falling in love and becoming human.  She lives in rural East Texas with her husband and children in her own private oasis, where she prides herself in her complete lack of social skills, choosing instead to live with the people inside her head.

Anne's Stalker Links:
Twitter:  @anneconley10
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