Friday, 31 March 2017


TITLE: Unnatural 
SERIES: The Holloway Pack
AUTHOR: J.A. Belfield
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
RELEASE DATE: 5:30:2016

**Cornered contains scenes that some readers might find upsetting**

Daniel Larsen is playing a dangerous game, and he doesn't even know it.

A two-wheeled speedster. A little redhead in a bar. Evenings spent away from his pack. Innocent enough for most, but for Danny, the combination leads down a path of destruction and straight to a hell he doesn’t even see coming.

Entangled in a nightmare that started with his own brother and the cat he brought into their home, Dan’s driving himself toward a solitary existence—except for the curvaceous Olivia Fanella. Seduced by his new companion, and happy to ignore the divide growing between himself and the pack, Danny is oblivious to the trap being laid out for him. 

Before long, Danny's integrity gets questioned. His loyalty gets questioned. Hell, he even questions himself. 

On top of that, just when he believes life might be going a little better, he gets served the roughest shot he could never have imagined—not even in his worst nightmares—and Danny has no idea how to come back from a hit like that. 



Liv studied at Uni and often landed at The Double-H—as the locals called it—to work on assignments. Said the atmosphere helped her to slip into a zone her wall-facing home desk tended to kill.

Not wanting to break her stride, I placed her drink down on her table and took a seat on the opposite bench without saying a word. Didn’t mean I didn’t cock my head to the side to see what she worked on, though.
At the top, in her neat handwriting, she’d penned 'Olivia Fanella’, and beneath that, a load of gobble-de-gook I didn’t understand. She’d once tried to explain what all the codes meant, the one time I’d asked her. It hadn't sunk in, and rather than ask again, I scanned the room for the second time since arriving.
One of the teens, a black kid, lounged over the pool table as he lined up a shot. The other, a pale blond, kept shaking his head, muttering for him to 'miss it’, despite the wonky smile on his lips.
I watched them a moment, almost wondering what it might’ve been like to grow up normal. Human. To have continued on through school until the very end. Through college. Uni, even—like Liv. Instead of hushed phone calls and donations made to school, the day Nate—our Alpha, and Dad’s best friend—decided I couldn’t go back, because I’d experienced my first full body muscle spasm.
I’d been popular in school. Popular with the sporty kids. Popular with the girls. It’d been weeks before I quit sulking over the loss of that popularity. It’d been longer still before I’d been given a new outlet for my energy, because not only did I have to wait until I reached eighteen before Dad and Nate would let me join them at the family construction business, I also had to wait for my first few changes to pass. They’d been some seriously, seriously boring months.
The black kid must’ve potted his ball, because, as he straightened, he outstretched his arms, his face full of smugness. “Man, you’ve either got it, or you ain’t,” he said to his friend.
From the other side of the floor, his volume shouldn’t have been audible. It likely wasn’t, to anybody else near where I sat. I didn’t fall into that category, though.
Studying the guys a bit longer, I took in the fitted cut of their shirts, the neatness of their hair. Despite only wearing jeans and boots, everything they wore seemed to have been chosen with precision. The blonde at the bar looked designer dressed from head to toe, too, and even the bloke on the other stool had on a pressed shirt and trousers, his tie from whatever job he’d left behind still secured about his neck.
Nothing like my stained jeans and scuffed boots, my hair overgrown and a bloody mess. I probably stood out like a tick on a bald cat.
Except for the girl sitting opposite.
I turned my attention back to Liv. The way that red hair of hers hung in her face had a roughness about it, making it—her—seem wild and untamed, despite her quiet demeanour. The hand not holding the pen clutched onto a bunch of the strands, like she needed the anchor to keep her grounded while she worked, showing a glimpse of the black-framed glasses she always wore. Beside her on the bench, her usual parker sat scrunched, leaving her in only a white T, with rolled up sleeves and a Rolling Stones logo on the front, a pair of ratty skinnies leading to the green Converse on her feet. Seemed to be her usual 'work’ gear—she’d barely deviated from the outfit since the first time I’d seen her.
The pair of us looked way out of place, when compared to the rest of the patrons, even if, all things considered, we probably were the only ones in there who actually suited The Hang & Hide, in all its ramshackle glory. Probably what’d drawn me to sit near her in the first place—that, and the way she seemed to want to talk even less than me.
Still, I couldn’t help but lean forward and open my big mouth. “You know, you don’t really look like the kind of female who’d hang around a place like this all the while.” As soon as I said it, I knew I’d sounded like a twit.
“Why’s that, then?” She nudged her glasses up her nose as she lifted her gaze. “Or maybe you just think the place should be full of more like Barbie over there?”
I followed the jerk of her chin, to the blonde at the bar. Like she sensed the scrutiny, the female twisted in her seat, giving me another of her smiles. Another one I ignored. With her movement, her thick waves of hair swung over her shoulder, the colour of popcorn flavoured jelly beans. Her eyes, on the other hand, resembled the liquorice ones.
Personally, I preferred the orangey sorts.
I downed a fat swig of my pint and turned back to Liv, resting my elbows on my knees.
Liv’s attention had already returned to her pad, her coarse wispy strands falling around her face, as she tapped her pen against her bottom lip, creating a smudge of blue there I instantly wanted to wipe away.
“Your hair reminds me of satsuma jelly beans,” I said, before I could stop myself.
“That supposed to be sweet talk, Danny?” she asked, looking up again. “Because you’re seriously crap at it.”
“Just saying.” I shrugged. “I like satsuma jelly beans.”
Breathing out a laugh and shaking her head, she went back to hunching over the table. “Thanks for the drink,” she muttered. “But work on your chatting up skills, yeah?”
Straightening, I lifted a foot and flopped it onto a stool, slouching back as I necked the rest of my lager in a few long swigs. “Who says I’m chatting you up?” I asked when I came up for air.
She dropped her pen long enough to take a drink. As she lowered her glass, she said, “There are always plenty of girls in here you can talk to, yet, you always talk to me. So, either you’re chatting me up ... or you’re gay.”
“Self-flattery.” I let out a low whistle. “That’s ... quite a skill.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you, Danny.”
That got my attention, and I studied her serious expression, the tightness between her brows, the way she fingered her pen like she needed the distraction. My own frown moved in. “Feel better now you have that out there?”
I heard her swallow as much as saw it, before she gave a small nod.
Leaning forward in my seat again and dropping my foot back to the floor, I swiped up my glass. “Good.” I pushed up from my seat, but paused before taking more than a few steps and twisted back to find her gazing my way through her lenses. “I’m not gay,” I said, like that was somehow important. “And I sit next to you each week because I come here for some peace, and you happen to be pretty good at providing that. Just so we’re clear.”
Without waiting for a response, I headed for the bar and slid my glass across the counter. 



Thursday, 30 March 2017


TITLE: Unnatural 
SERIES: The Holloway Pack
AUTHOR: J.A. Belfield
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
RELEASE DATE: 10:30:2016

Unnatural. One word to sum up werewolf Kyle Larsen—his mood swings, abnormal body, and choice of female.

The first two, he blames on the vampire venom.

The third, though? No, feline shifter Brook Nicholls is all his doing—a female of whom the pack will never approve.

As part of the Coalition, an organisation with even stricter rules than the pack and a rigidly warped sense of responsibility, Brook comes with a whole lot of opposition of her own.

No wonder the two of them keep their relationship secret for as long as they can.

Now, distanced from his family by his own indiscretions, Kyle’s left to fight battles he’s unsure how to win—some of them even against his own pack.

Is one woman really so important that he’s willing to defy his Alpha for her?

If his heart has any say in the matter, the answer will be yes.



Warm breaths hit the side of Brook Nicholls’ neck, the rise and fall of a chest pressed into her back like a heartbeat in slow motion, and the deadweight of the arm across her stomach told her he had fallen asleep.

With the heat of his body lulling her to join him, Brook’s breathing slowed, her lids lowered, and the fingers of oblivion beckoned her weary and sated mind forth.

A beat kicked in somewhere below—his, she thought with a smile.

The drumming picked up, in volume as well as in tempo.

He probably ran in his sleep. Brook did, as feline, so it stood to reason that he would as her opposite.

“Brook!” More bangs, followed with thuds. “Brook! I know you’re in there!”

Her eyes snapped open.

“Brook! If you don’t open this door, I swear I’m gonna knock it down myself!”


“Oh, no!” She spun around, fingers already reaching for her lover’s arm. “Wake up,” she whispered, shaking him. “Kyle, you have to wake up.”

“Whah?” His lids fluttered, and he rapid-blinked. “Brook?”

“We are in big trouble. You have to get up.” She thrust into a sitting position, grabbing his arm and dragging him with her. “Please, Kyle.”

“What’s going o—”

“Brook!” Clive roared again.

Kyle’s eyes widened. “Shit!” He dove from the bed, fingers folding around his boxers on the floor where they’d fallen. As he bent to feed them over his feet, the door rattled beneath more blows.

“Dammit, Brook, open the door!”

“Quickly.” Brook’s attention flickered between Kyle and the relentless pounding. She knew Clive could enter any time he liked, knew only his respect for her father kept him from forcing the door from its hinges. “You have to hurry.”

“What do you think I’m doing, River?”

“Brook,” she hissed, though she couldn’t control the smile that crept in and widened at Kyle’s deep chuckle.

Rough denim slid over his hips, and he scooped up his shirt without bothering to secure any buttons on his jeans, leaving the trail of hair south of his navel exposed below his muscular, scarred torso. With his boots in his other hand, he strode back to the bed, the mattress dipping as he knelt before her.

Combing fingers into his wild red hair, Brook urged him closer, found his willing mouth with hers, and gave him a farewell that in no way compared to the one she had initially planned.

A deep crack signified the first splintering of wood, and she jerked backward. “Go!”


Kyle turned toward the bedroom door with a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “And leave you with that?”

“Please.” Brook’s pulse thrummed at the implication of his words. “He’ll not harm me—but he will hurt you if he finds you here.”

Kyle’s brow lifted. “A cat?”

She scowled.

He raised his palms in mock surrender. “Just kidding. I’m going.” He backed away from the bed to the window, opening it and sticking out his head.

No shouts rang out, no cries of outrage.

His head reappeared, hazel eyes finding Brook’s. “Call me when you can.”

Before she could respond, he’d hooked a leg over the sill, followed by the other, and he thumped down below as the unmistakable smash of the front door seemed to shake the entire guesthouse.


Wednesday, 29 March 2017


SERIES: The Holloway Pack
AUTHOR: J.A. Belfield
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
RELEASE DATE: 10:7:2016

If the meek can become deadly, the strongest can be weak.

For Ethan Holloway, his mission to find a missing werewolf should be simple. Crack a few heads, bust a few chops, and the solution always reveals itself. Always.

Not this time.

Ethan's reputation precedes him, and because it does, someone is ready. Waiting. Unbeknownst to Ethan, he's about to go down. Hard. Against a foe he never suspected and in a world he never imagined could be real.

What awaits Ethan is a fight not only for his reputation, but also his pack, his female, and his life. If he survives, damage control will become priority number one.

If he survives.

Because even Ethan's not sure he's strong enough to take on an entire race all by himself. Especially one hell bent on exposing who and what he is in the name of sport.



We arrived at Shelley’s just before nine am. Like she’d been looking out for us, the front door to her house opened, the moment the truck drew to a stop. I didn’t have to get close to see the panic in her eyes and the deep blush of unrelenting emotions in her face.
The slam of my door drowned out her delicate steps along the path to greet us. Her hands reached out, as if she considered us her lifeline, before she pressed her fingers against her lips. “I can’t thank you enough for coming.” A shiver jerked her tiny shoulders as she spoke, while three singular tears rolled down cheeks still red from an earlier batch of crying.
“Come on.” I slid my arm around her and drew her to my side. “Let’s go in.”
Her crown barely reached my armpit as she leaned into me and allowed me to guide her toward the house. Behind us, Sean and Dad’s feet hit the path.
The brightness of the day gleamed through the window, bathing Shelley’s magnolia-coloured home in warmth and light. Four dirty mugs sat beside her mobile and house phones on the coffee table. A burgundy throw, which matched the deep shade of her hair, lay scrunched into a heap on the sofa, as though Shelley had spent the night there on constant vigil.
I walked her across the room and sat her down, but she pushed back up.
“Please don’t make me sit.” She worried at the nail on her thumb. “I’m so sick of sitting and waiting for everyone else to do their job.” Her gaze met mine. “Do you think it’s like those others?”
“When did you last see him, Shel?” I asked.
“Friday.” Her fidgeting feet brushed over the carpet, as the two armchairs creaked beneath Sean’s and Dad’s weight. “Friday dinnertime. Is it like the other disappearances?”
I frowned. “Friday was four days ago.”
“He was staying at his friend’s. He wants more independence—doesn’t like me hassling him all the time. I thought he’d be okay.” Her eyes beseeched as she stared up at me. “He promised they’d be indoors before dark. Col’s parents were away the weekend—”
“Colum Delaney?” The other kid from the news.
Shelley nodded.
“Is he ...” Rubbing a hand across the crick forming in my neck, I lowered myself onto the sofa and took Shelley’s arm to draw her down with me. “Is Colum a wolf, too?”
Her head shook as she balanced on the cushion’s edge.
“Human?” Brow lifted, I twisted toward Dad, who frowned, and turned back to Shelley. “And there’s no sign of him, either?”
“No. Dave and Lisa ... Col’s parents—they came back last night from their break. That’s why Gabe stayed over—they had the house to themselves, had plans to ... I don’t ... but Dave said they came home to the back door wide open, the coffee table smashed, take out trashed on the carpet ...” She sucked in a deep shuddering breath, wringing her hands together.
“So they rang the police.” My jaw tightened as the scenario formed in my mind. “Figures they would. Why didn’t you call us?”
“I hoped they’d show up, I think. It all seemed so definite when the police knocked on my door and made the report. I was about to call you this morning ... then ... on the news ...” The panic cleared from her eyes a little as her gaze bored into mine. “Is it like the others? Tell me the truth, Ethan. Is it the same as the other disappearances you warned me about?”
As much as I wanted to lie and ease the blow, I couldn’t. “Except for the missing human?” I gave a small nod. “It looks that way.”
“The others haven’t been found, have they?” she asked. “They haven’t shown up—”
“Yet,” Dad cut in. “Doesn’t mean they won’t.”
Shelley turned to each of us. “How much do you know about the disappearances?”
“Nowhere near enough,” Dad said.
“You must know something, or you wouldn’t have called me last week to keep a close watch on Gabe.”
Dad’s gaze met mine—Sean’s, too. The worry over how much to share with her seemed to cross all of our minds.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she asked. “I get it,” she said with a small nod, as we all turned back to her. “I’m not part of your pack, so why—”
“I was contacted,” Dad said, leaning forward, “the evening before Ethan called you, by Jack Brosen—he’s the Alpha of a pack who runs here, in Shropshire. He wanted to know if I’d followed the news, and to ask for the favour that if I knew anything, I share it.”
Lines creased Shelley’s brow, but she didn’t say anything.
“His son has gone missing—just like Gabe,” Dad continued. “But he kept it off the radar. The ones on the news are the ones officially reported. We have no idea how many more have been taken. Just as we have no idea where they’re going, or who’s taking them, or why. Jack’s also worried it’s more than just werewolves that have gone missing.”
“What do you mean, Nathan?”
“Five of the reported disappearances have been female,” Dad said. “If there were that many female werewolves nearby?” His shoulders lifted with his shrug. “Trust me, I’d have heard about it.”
“So ... so, they are taking humans, too?” Her brows rose higher with each word, but Dad shook his head.
“I don’t think they’re human, either.”


Tuesday, 28 March 2017


TITLE: Blue Moon 
SERIES: The Holloway Pack
AUTHOR: J.A. Belfield
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
RELEASE DATE: 9:27:2016

Someone is watching the Holloway Pack ... and this time, the female isn't the target.

Life with a group of seven male werewolves worries Jem Stonehouse not one bit. She is engaged to the Alpha's son, Sean Holloway, after all. So, what has Jem's territorial instincts on high alert?

The pack's latest addition. Both of them.

None of the men think there's a problem with the new girlfriends. Jem's intuition tells her otherwise - that and a nagging suspicion that the new females aren't there to partake.

Jem believes their goal is to take. The question is ... What?

As the eve of the blue moon draws ever closer, Jem's running out of time to find the answer and outwit a thief of the worst possible kind.

A woman who believes she can't lose.



A backward kick of my foot sent the bathroom door swinging, and I’d lifted the hem of my soiled T-shirt before it even slammed shut. Next, off came my jeans—underwear, too. I carried them all like something diseased, opened the bathroom window, and dropped them outside for later disposal.
At feet hitting the stairs, my head tilted.
The steps reached the landing.
I really hoped whoever had come up would head into one of the bedrooms.
One long stride became two. Three.
I spun.
According to Sean, there hadn’t been a lock on the door in years. Four more strides, and I’d be too late.
A fourth step.
Two left.
I dived for the door. As my hand grasped the inner handle, a downward tug from the other side dragged it farther.
As the door burst open, I stumbled back.
Sean barged his way in. An echoing thunk filled the space on the door’s collision with the wall. One final step, and Sean’s fingers folded around my wrist.
His arm snatched back, hauling me upright. I expected him to check me over, ensure he hadn’t hurt me. Instead, his hands gripped my hips.
My body flew through the air, too fast for my mind to register, and my back smacked against the tiled wall.
A small grunt burst out, as Sean’s body crushed mine. He ducked his head to my neck, attached his nose to where my increased pulse pumped the erotic scent to him in waves.
“What the hell did you do?” The nearness of my flesh to his mouth distorted his mumbled words.
“It’s just a perfume. All I need to do is wash it off, and this will stop.”
His eyes bordered on black as he lifted his face and emitted a low growl. “No.” With his hips pinning me, he leaned his shoulders far enough back to tug off his T-shirt.
When he pressed back against my nakedness, my pulse soared. “What you’re feeling right now isn’t real.” I took his face in my hands, lifting it to mine. “It’s a spell, Sean.”
His eyes closed. He swayed. His lids lifted as though in slow motion, and as a smile spread across his lips, my breath caught.
He could not have looked hornier. The steady drum of my heart missed a few beats. With a whispered, “Jem,” his mouth melded to mine.
I shouldn’t have responded, knew I shouldn’t, but couldn’t help myself. Sean’s lazy busses were excellent—his snogs awesome. Notch those up to his lust-induced, frantic, tongue-teasing kisses, and they rocketed way out into orbit. Not to mention his air of frustration with his mussed up hair, his glistening eyes, and I was his.


Monday, 27 March 2017


NEW TITLE: The Wolf Within
PREVIOUS TITLE: Darkness & Light
SERIES: The Holloway Pack
AUTHOR: J.A. Belfield
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
RELEASE DATE: 9:10:2014

Jem Stonehouse, a housewife with a neurotic husband bent on keeping her in line, dreams about werewolves in, what she believes, is a bid to escape boredom.
Sean Holloway is a werewolf, living a charade within the human race, whose mind drifts to a bond he shares with a woman he hasn't met — at least, not in this lifetime.
Apart, the two are safe but live unfulfilled lives.
Together, they'll become prey to rival packs just as they have been for hundreds of years.
When their worlds collide, and not for the first time, instinct takes over. Dreams become reality. Futures are uncertain. To keep history from repeating itself, Sean must teach Jem about his heritage, convince her of her role, and win her love.
Can Jem accept her destiny before it's too late, or is her inner wolf buried too deep to save her future with Sean?



“What are you writing?”
His voice held a smooth, velvety texture. As I listened to him, my pen paused mid-sentence. Once he’d stopped, my hand brushed the paper again—detailing my passage to the bedroom door.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
Again, the sound of his voice faltered my hand. “It’s a record,” I said, without removing my eyes from the word I’d just written.
“What about?”
“Dreams I’ve been having.” I frowned at my willingness to explain, yet still continued, “It’s a record of a story within my dreams.”
“So ... are you in your story, then?”
My lips twitched, but my focus didn’t waver. “Obviously, if they’re my dreams I’m writing about.”
He gave a deep chuckle, but I didn’t glance up, merely finished my disrupted sentence. “What do you dream about?”
I wrote another line before answering with a shrug. “Werewolves.”
He didn’t laugh, as I expected him to. “Do you have many dreams about werewolves?”
My head nodded slowly. “They’re almost always about werewolves—have been my entire life.”
I didn’t know why I took the time to answer him while busy. Maybe I liked the sound of his voice and wasn’t averse to hearing it a little more.
“So, if the story is about you, what’s the name of the heroine?”
“I think heroine is a major overstatement,” I said. “But if you want to know what my name is, maybe you should just ask.”
He chuckled again as I wrote another line. By that time, the stairs of doom had been reached. “If I ask your name, will you tell me?”
I took a deep breath but didn’t answer.
“Is there a hero in your story?” he asked after a brief silence.
“Sean isn’t a hero. He’s a pain in the arse.” I frowned, surprised by my language, as well as my assessment.
“Sean,” he said, his voice full of amusement again. “Sorry, what did you say the heroine’s name was?”
“My name’s Jem.”
“Jem? Not Jemma, or Jemima?”
“Just Jem,” I said.
His sigh was audible. “That’s because you were born in June, right, after the star sign, Gemini?”
My shoulders stiffened, and my eyes narrowed.
“The twins,” he continued. “Two sides to the same person?”
With a slow lift of my head, I studied him properly for the first time.
Deep brown, dangerous-looking eyes sparkled back at me, his full mouth turned up at one corner to reveal a crooked smile. His arm lifted from the table, and he rubbed across hair standing thick and unruly above a face softened by an angular jaw line with cheekbones to match.
I followed the flight of his hand, took in the rich, chocolate brown strands it ruffled, and my heart beat a little faster. As my eyes travelled across his body, took in prominent muscles—evident even beneath his casual attire—I realised he’d come in with the man who’d held open the door for the old lady.
Lowering my feet to the floor, I sat up straighter, glanced around. A few tables back were his two blond friends—staring straight at me.
The fluorescent girls alternated between watching them, and me and my concentration-breaker, as though hoping for the other two for themselves.
I turned back to him. “What did you just say?”
“Gemini,” he said. “You’re called Jem because of your star sign. You are Jem Stonehouse … aren’t you?”
How could he know me? He even used my maiden name. Heartbeat building from timpani to an army of bass drums, I asked, “Do I know you?”
“I really hope you do, otherwise I’m making a complete fool of myself.”
“Who are you?”
He smiled, his eyebrow lifting with his slight head tilt. “My name’s Sean, Jem. I’m Sean.”