COVER AND BLURB REVEAL – LORD OF LONDON TOWN by Tillie Cole

Cheska Harlow-Wright was born into a life of luxury and privilege. She has
never wanted for anything. A comfortable future as a married London socialite
awaits her. But since the age of thirteen, Cheska has harboured a secret—an
unshakeable fixation on a boy who could never offer her anything close to
comfort. A boy steeped in sin and draped in depravity. A boy born into the
possessive embrace of darkness.
When Cheska’s seemingly perfect world is ripped apart by an unknown but
deadly enemy, there’s only one person she can run to. One person in the world
who has the power to keep her safe. The one person her weak and shattered
heart craves.
Arthur Adley. The new head of the most feared crime family in London.
Forced too young to take the helm of the Adley firm, Arthur has become even
more ruthless, formidable, and cold than ever before. His enemies are circling,
and he must fight—and kill—to maintain his family’s place at the top of the
London crime underworld. There is no room for weakness, emotion, or loss of
control.
But then Cheska smashes back into his life with the force of a wrecking ball.
She has no place in this dark, vicious, and bloodthirsty world. And worse, she is
the solitary chink in his impenetrable armour. He’s already pushed her away
once, but this time she desperately needs him. She’s broken, lost, and in danger,
and he is the only one who can help.
Arthur must protect her. He must destroy those who dare to threaten her, hunt
down those who would take what is his. He would raze all of London to the
ground to keep her safe… but can he also protect himself?
The infamous Dark Lord of London Town faces his most brutal battle yet—the
crippling weight of the past, the unrelenting enemies lurking in the shadows…
and the havoc that Cheska’s presence is wreaking on the granite fortress that
was once his heart.
Dark contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence and

sensitive subjects that some may find triggering.



Release Date: October 13th. 

Cover Design: Murphy Rae Designs.

Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography.

Model: Andrew Biernat.

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

Author Links 

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EXCERPT REVEAL – THOROUGHLY WHIPPED by Tillie Cole

 

 

 

I, Faith Parisi, love my life. I have the best job—resident sex-advice diva for Visage magazine—I have the best friends, and I live in the best city in the world. Things are pretty damn fabulous. That is, until Henry “Harry” Sinclair III comes crashing back into my world like a bad case of herpes.
I hate the way Harry’s lip curls in contempt whenever he sees me. I hate his bright blue eyes and those inexplicably offensive dimples. I hate his stuffy English accent and the stick that’s permanently jammed up his aristocratic ass. More than anything, I hate that he’s now my boss.
But my professional prospects start to look up when a chance at writing Visage’s big summer feature falls into my lap. Success won’t be easy. I’ll need to let go of all my inhibitions—not that I have that many of those—and jump, stiletto heels first, into a hedonistic new world. An exclusive, secretive world, filled with leather, latex, and Manhattan’s elite.
Pulling this off will take every ounce of daring I have, and every ounce of focus. I can’t afford to get distracted by anything, least of all my new boss, his arrogant mouth, or the way the ice between us seems to be slowly melting away…

 

Genre: Romantic ~ Comedy

 

“Holy shit,” Novah whispered, leaning into me. “Little boy blue blood is all grown up!”

I rolled my eyes. “You do realize he’s only a year older than you, right?”

“I’ve only seen him in pictures, Faith. Unlike some, I haven’t been graced with the younger duke’s company before this moment. Let me bask in his mighty presence.”

“He’s not a duke yet. That happens when his old man kicks it and passes down the title. And nobody is graced with that dick’s presence. He’s arrogant and so rich it’s made him beyond stupid, and he walks with a permanent pole shoved up his ass. Il duko has no redeeming qualities whatsoever,” I snapped and folded my arms across my chest to exaggerate my point.

The object of our musings hovered in the doorway to the conference room. He was conversing with Sally, our editor, and Henry Sinclair II, his father. Or, as his father was better known, King. Apparently, it was quite the amusing nickname among the British elite. Oh, how they must have chortled at the “cheeky” reference to their most famous royals. But to us, his American working-class worker bees, calling himself King Sinclair just made him sound like an entitled douchebag, too full of his own importance.

“Well I, for one, wouldn’t mind delving into those khakis the duke trainee wears so well and deep fishing for said pole in his pert, tight posterior, if you know what I mean.”

I took hold of Novah’s arm and met her eyes with my most serious expression. “It’s irremovable, Novah. That pole is wedged in deep, like oil-rig deep. You’ll need a fucking crane to hoist it out. A crane, Novah.”

Novah waved her hand in front of her face. “Jeez, Faith. Even that image has my thighs clenching.” She whistled low. “I could never be that close to his peach of a tush. I’d end up biting his firm, toned, polo-playing cheek. I know I would. Or at least give it a swift lick. I’m better off keeping my distance so as to not be arrested.”

“You’re sick.” I smirked as she crossed her legs tightly.

“I never claimed otherwise.”

“Right, minions!” Sally shouted, standing at the front of the room. The staff grew silent. Our editor clapped her hands with impressive speed. She forced a smile. It wasn’t a good look on her. She appeared constipated whenever she attempted “friendly.” Or as though she were battling a mild-to-medium case of hemorrhoids.

“Today’s a big day here at Visage.”

I held my breath, waiting for more, dread seeping into the very marrow of my bones. My skin itched in irritation seeing Henry “Harry” Sinclair III stepping out from behind his father. No, I prayed, hands lowering into a death grip on the arms of my chair. I looked up toward the heavens. God, I know we’re not always on the best of terms. I drink, cuss, and enjoy fornicating far too much for your liking, but please, please, please, do not say he is here for—

“As you may have heard, Mr. King Sinclair is slowly taking a step back from the running of HCS Media Group and focusing solely on his British investments. He is still very much ‘in charge’ on the global stage, but he has decided to start delegating the US enterprises to his son, Henry Sinclair Junior.”

I closed my eyes and felt Novah’s hand grip my thigh at this revelation. “So today I have the great pleasure to welcome Henry as the new CEO of Visage Magazine and the New York Journal and everything that falls under that impressive umbrella.” The people in the conference room broke out into somewhat enthusiastic applause, and I reluctantly opened my eyes. I’d hoped if I kept them closed, this would somehow turn out to be a bad dream. But as soon as I opened them, my gaze railroaded right into Henry’s or, as I liked to call him, the eternally entitled ball-sack.

Fuck my life. What had we mere mortals done in the world to deserve three of these Henry Sinclair jerks on the planet? His father was an asswipe of the highest order, and I’d heard the grandfather, who’d created the empire, had been the worst kind of human being. His grandson had apparently followed suit. Henry didn’t smile at me. His nostrils flared and his lip curled up. I wasn’t sure if he was silently passing gas or exposing the fact that he disliked me as much as I disliked him.

King Sinclair nudged his son from his malevolent reverie. Henry pulled his hands from his pockets, nodded curtly, and instantly became the leader I was sure he had been molded to be since birth. “Good morning, I’m Henry Sinclair, but please call me Harry. Only my teachers ever called me Henry.” He smirked a little at that. I blinked slowly in confusion. I had never seen him smile. This was a barely-there smile and, no matter how brief it was, it indicated Harry wasn’t always the dour bastard he appeared to be.

“I know most of you have never met me, but I’ve been living between New York and England for the past few years and am extremely happy to be taking over here at the New York Journal and therefore, of course, Visage.” Visage was the in-house style magazine, which went out every Sunday along with the Journal’s other Sunday offerings. The in-house magazines of such prestigious newspapers had always been considered the ugly stepsisters in the world of newspaper publishing, but I loved it here. Always had…until, I feared, now.

 

 
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

 

WebFacebookTwitter –   InstagramAmazonGoodreads 

 

 

LIVE- THOROUGHLY WHIPPED by Tillie Cole

 

 

 

WRAPPED UP IN READING’s REVIEW OF THOROUGHLY WHIPPED

 
I, Faith Parisi, love my life. I have the best job—resident sex-advice diva for Visage magazine—I have the best friends, and I live in the best city in the world. Things are pretty damn fabulous. That is, until Henry “Harry” Sinclair III comes crashing back into my world like a bad case of herpes.
I hate the way Harry’s lip curls in contempt whenever he sees me. I hate his bright blue eyes and those inexplicably offensive dimples. I hate his stuffy English accent and the stick that’s permanently jammed up his aristocratic ass. More than anything, I hate that he’s now my boss.
But my professional prospects start to look up when a chance at writing Visage’s big summer feature falls into my lap. Success won’t be easy. I’ll need to let go of all my inhibitions—not that I have that many of those—and jump, stiletto heels first, into a hedonistic new world. An exclusive, secretive world, filled with leather, latex, and Manhattan’s elite.
Pulling this off will take every ounce of daring I have, and every ounce of focus. I can’t afford to get distracted by anything, least of all my new boss, his arrogant mouth, or the way the ice between us seems to be slowly melting away…
 
Genre: Romantic ~Comedy

 

 

“Holy shit,” Novah whispered, leaning into me. “Little boy blue blood is all grown up!”

I rolled my eyes. “You do realize he’s only a year older than you, right?”

“I’ve only seen him in pictures, Faith. Unlike some, I haven’t been graced with the younger duke’s company before this moment. Let me bask in his mighty presence.”

“He’s not a duke yet. That happens when his old man kicks it and passes down the title. And nobody is graced with that dick’s presence. He’s arrogant and so rich it’s made him beyond stupid, and he walks with a permanent pole shoved up his ass. Il duko has no redeeming qualities whatsoever,” I snapped and folded my arms across my chest to exaggerate my point.

The object of our musings hovered in the doorway to the conference room. He was conversing with Sally, our editor, and Henry Sinclair II, his father. Or, as his father was better known, King. Apparently, it was quite the amusing nickname among the British elite. Oh, how they must have chortled at the “cheeky” reference to their most famous royals. But to us, his American working-class worker bees, calling himself King Sinclair just made him sound like an entitled douchebag, too full of his own importance.

“Well I, for one, wouldn’t mind delving into those khakis the duke trainee wears so well and deep fishing for said pole in his pert, tight posterior, if you know what I mean.”

I took hold of Novah’s arm and met her eyes with my most serious expression. “It’s irremovable, Novah. That pole is wedged in deep, like oil-rig deep. You’ll need a fucking crane to hoist it out. A crane, Novah.”

Novah waved her hand in front of her face. “Jeez, Faith. Even that image has my thighs clenching.” She whistled low. “I could never be that close to his peach of a tush. I’d end up biting his firm, toned, polo-playing cheek. I know I would. Or at least give it a swift lick. I’m better off keeping my distance so as to not be arrested.”

“You’re sick.” I smirked as she crossed her legs tightly.

“I never claimed otherwise.”

“Right, minions!” Sally shouted, standing at the front of the room. The staff grew silent. Our editor clapped her hands with impressive speed. She forced a smile. It wasn’t a good look on her. She appeared constipated whenever she attempted “friendly.” Or as though she were battling a mild-to-medium case of hemorrhoids.

“Today’s a big day here at Visage.”

I held my breath, waiting for more, dread seeping into the very marrow of my bones. My skin itched in irritation seeing Henry “Harry” Sinclair III stepping out from behind his father. No, I prayed, hands lowering into a death grip on the arms of my chair. I looked up toward the heavens. God, I know we’re not always on the best of terms. I drink, cuss, and enjoy fornicating far too much for your liking, but please, please, please, do not say he is here for—

“As you may have heard, Mr. King Sinclair is slowly taking a step back from the running of HCS Media Group and focusing solely on his British investments. He is still very much ‘in charge’ on the global stage, but he has decided to start delegating the US enterprises to his son, Henry Sinclair Junior.”

I closed my eyes and felt Novah’s hand grip my thigh at this revelation. “So today I have the great pleasure to welcome Henry as the new CEO of Visage Magazine and the New York Journal and everything that falls under that impressive umbrella.” The people in the conference room broke out into somewhat enthusiastic applause, and I reluctantly opened my eyes. I’d hoped if I kept them closed, this would somehow turn out to be a bad dream. But as soon as I opened them, my gaze railroaded right into Henry’s or, as I liked to call him, the eternally entitled ball-sack.

Fuck my life. What had we mere mortals done in the world to deserve three of these Henry Sinclair jerks on the planet? His father was an asswipe of the highest order, and I’d heard the grandfather, who’d created the empire, had been the worst kind of human being. His grandson had apparently followed suit. Henry didn’t smile at me. His nostrils flared and his lip curled up. I wasn’t sure if he was silently passing gas or exposing the fact that he disliked me as much as I disliked him.

King Sinclair nudged his son from his malevolent reverie. Henry pulled his hands from his pockets, nodded curtly, and instantly became the leader I was sure he had been molded to be since birth. “Good morning, I’m Henry Sinclair, but please call me Harry. Only my teachers ever called me Henry.” He smirked a little at that. I blinked slowly in confusion. I had never seen him smile. This was a barely-there smile and, no matter how brief it was, it indicated Harry wasn’t always the dour bastard he appeared to be.

“I know most of you have never met me, but I’ve been living between New York and England for the past few years and am extremely happy to be taking over here at the New York Journal and therefore, of course, Visage.” Visage was the in-house style magazine, which went out every Sunday along with the Journal’s other Sunday offerings. The in-house magazines of such prestigious newspapers had always been considered the ugly stepsisters in the world of newspaper publishing, but I loved it here. Always had…until, I feared, now.

 

 
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.
 
WebFacebookTwitter –   InstagramAmazonGoodreads 

 

 

REVIEW – THOROUGHLY WHIPPED by Tillie Cole

SYNOPSIS

I, Faith Parisi, love my life. I have the best job—resident sex-advice diva for Visage magazine—I have the best friends, and I live in the best city in the world. Things are pretty damn fabulous. That is, until Henry “Harry” Sinclair III comes crashing back into my world like a bad case of herpes.

I hate the way Harry’s lip curls in contempt whenever he sees me. I hate his bright blue eyes and those inexplicably offensive dimples. I hate his stuffy English accent and the stick that’s permanently jammed up his aristocratic ass. More than anything, I hate that he’s now my boss.

But my professional prospects start to look up when a chance at writing Visage’s big summer feature falls into my lap. Success won’t be easy. I’ll need to let go of all my inhibitions—not that I have that many of those—and jump, stiletto heels first, into a hedonistic new world. An exclusive, secretive world, filled with leather, latex, and Manhattan’s elite.

Pulling this off will take every ounce of daring I have, and every ounce of focus. I can’t afford to get distracted by anything, least of all my new boss, his arrogant mouth, or the way the ice between us seems to be slowly melting away…

 

 

*****Patty’s Review*****

*****FIVE+++++++ STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}

 

 

 

Tillie Cole has always been one of my all-time favorite authors. Her stories have either been dark or incredibly angsty. This is the first time she’s delved into the Romantic Comedy genre and I think she nailed it 100%!! I laughed out loud so much while reading this book! From beginning to end, I flat out ADORED Faith and Harry’s scorching hot and insanely hilarious enemies-to-lovers romance. ”THOROUGHLY WHIPPED” was a cross between ”Fifty Shades of Grey”, “Beautiful Bastard”, and “The Unidentified Red Head”. Did you ever enjoy reading a book so much that you wished more than anything that you could live the life of the Heroine in the story? I wanted to be Faith Parisi and as I got closer to the end, I wished that I could spend more time in her world with Harry Sinclair.

Faith is the type of Heroine I always love to read about. She’s ridiculously funny, curses like a truck driver, a total klutz, and forever finding herself in the most embarrassing circumstances. There isn’t anything I didn’t love about her. Harry is a beautiful and pompous British bastard. He’s standoffish and a total snob, but you can tell he’s a complex character with many layers. The anticipation of getting to know this mysterious man made for numerous hours of thrilling reading.

I normally start my reviews with a favorite quote, and I did have quite a few to choose from. I chose not to in order to avoid possibly revealing any spoilers. I had such a good time reading this book and I hope that you all do as well. Tillie, if you read this review—please, please, please, don’t let this be your last romantic comedy. You have such a gift to be able to write so many different types of stories. I’d also love it if this wasn’t the last we’ve heard from Faith and Harry.

Here are my overall ratings:
Hero: 5++++
Heroine: 5++++++
Plot: 5++++
Angst: 4
Steam: 5++++
Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine: 5++++

”THOROUGHLY WHIPPED” is currently available!!

Amazon – https://amzn.to/3cFn7JH
Nook – https://bit.ly/2UnqUVB

COVER REVEAL – MY MADDIE by Tillie Cole

Not even love can conquer the demons of our pasts…
Flame and Maddie have found solace and safety in one another’s arms, two fractured souls beginning to heal. But no matter how strong their love grows, it can never completely vanquish the demons of their pasts. These demons are dormant, not defeated.
Now a new enemy threatens the Hangmen, and a new revelation threatens the peace Maddie and Flame hold so dear. Flame is fighting a multitude of wars – against the club’s new foe, against the horrors of his past, and against his fears – but the fire in his blood may be the only victor.
As Flame begins to spiral into his own personal hell, it is up to Maddie to bring her husband back into her heart. To remind him that, together, they can face any obstacle standing in their way. To show him that no one and nothing can tear them apart again. 
His Maddie.
Her Flame.
The fight for their forever.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

WebFacebookTwitter –   InstagramAmazonGoodreads 

BLOG TOUR – RAPHAEL (Deadly Virtues, #1) by Tillie Cole

 

 

 

 

They are the Fallen. A brotherhood of murderers whose nature compels them to kill. But guided by their leader, Gabriel, the Fallen have learned to use their urges to rid the world of those it is better off without.

For Raphael, sex and death are intertwined. Where there is one, there must be the other. He is a lust killer, luring his victims with the face of an angel and a body built for sin.

And Raphael lives to sin.

His newest mission takes him into the sadistic underworld of Boston’s secret sex clubs, and puts him face to face with his greatest fantasy made flesh.

Maria is everything he’s ever dreamed of, the kill he’s always longed for. She’s not his target. And he knows he must resist. But the temptation is too strong…

Yet Raphael is not the only one with a mission. Maria is not quite what she seems. And as her secrets and Raphael’s unravel, Maria begins to question everything she thought she knew—about evil, about the place she calls home, and about the beautiful sinner she was sent to destroy.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

 

 

The Fallen: Genesis a prequel novella in The Deadly Virtues Series and MUST be read before RAPHAEL (DV: book one).

 

 

 

 

Father Murray’s eyes locked on the woman again as she was released from the metal cage and brought into her lover’s embrace. The man slammed his mouth against hers and thrust his fingers into her overused pussy. They were dressed in scandalous leather outfits that did little to conceal their bodies. Father Murray’s lip curled in disgust. The man pulled back and made for the bar. His slut’s cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen from the claiming kiss. She had red marks littering her body like the witch she was. Bruises and gashes from whips and chains and whatever else the male sinner had used on her flesh.

Flesh that belonged to the Lord, not her. Flesh that she was defiling, making a mockery of.

As Father Murray sipped on his water, he noticed the whore was walking to the bathrooms. His eyes tracked her across the room, then scanned the club for any sign that someone else would follow. But the heathens were too busy fornicating to notice or care. His heart kicked into a sprint; she was alone in the bathroom. He squeezed the bottle of water until it was crushed beneath his grasp.

Father Murray’s skin burned as he watched the door of the bathroom. His muscles tensed so tightly they felt as though they would snap. His eyes misted with red . . . and then he was moving. He let the Lord fill his senses and gave over control.

Do with me what you will. Use me as your vessel to destroy the evil walking this earth.

As quick as a shadow, Father Murray turned the knob of the bathroom door and walked inside. The whore stood in front of the mirror, wiping a cloth along her rancid pussy. She turned her eyes his way. What first seemed like shock at the interruption turned into heated interest.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was all seduction. The voice of the devil, Father Murray thought. A living temptation trying to sway me from the path.

It would only make her cleansing all the more powerful.

Father Murray licked his lips and pushed his jaw-length dark hair from his eyes. He saw the whore’s eyes flare. That was the reason he was picked for these missions. Father Quinn had told him God gave him his looks and body for this very reason. To ensnare impure sluts and send them to the depths of hell where they belonged and would dwell for eternity.

Silently, Father Murray turned, giving the slightest nudge of his head in instruction for her to follow. He didn’t look back, and the thumping music from the speakers in the club meant he couldn’t hear her high-heeled feet on the floor. But he knew she would follow. It was God’s will.

These missions were the Brethren’s very reason for existing.

Father Murray exited out of the back door and down the winding fire escape stairs. A metal door plunged him into the darkness of the alley outside. He stopped against the wall and waited. He smirked when the fire door opened and the slut walked through. He watched as her eyes squinted in the dark, searching for him. She smiled when she caught sight of his intense gaze fixed on her. “You like privacy, huh?” she asked, coming to stand before him. “Not into public displays?” She smiled. “You should try it. There’s nothing like all eyes on you as you come.”

The whore ran her long fingernail down Father Murray’s chest. Her touch did nothing to him. There was no stirring in his cock, no satisfaction from her attention. The bitch had no idea what turned him on.

She would soon.

She dropped her hands to the fly of his pants and undid his zipper. Her tongue snaked out and licked along her too-white teeth. The whore was a demon wrapped in attractive female flesh.

But she wouldn’t make this man of God sin.

Father Murray grabbed the top of the whore’s arms, spun her, and smacked her back against the wall. An innocent soul would feel fear, dislike of the rough contact. But not this slut. She smiled, enjoying the pain Father Murray’s aggressive grip brought.

Heathen. A heathen who deserves to die.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” she whispered in his ear. The whore lifted her hand and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, aiming for seductiveness. Father Murray knew the movement was a message from the Lord. An invitation to strike, to do his work of ridding the world of sinners.

Father Murray smiled; the whore smiled back. He didn’t bother to tuck his cock back into his pants. Instead, he ran his hands over her hell-created curves, listening to her moan. His fingers roved over her small waist and up over her large breasts. Finally, his hands rested on either side of her neck. Father Murray stared right into the whore’s eyes. Leaning in close, he whispered, “You are a blight on the world. You have no place on this earth . . . and I shall be the holy warrior to send you back to the second level of hell.” Her eyes only had a second to flare with fear before Father Murray began to squeeze. The whore’s mouth dropped open as she quickly became starved of breath.

Father Murray hadn’t been aroused by the whore’s touch. But now, with his hands ridding her of life, his dick was hard and throbbing with the need to release. He panted as the whore’s body began to fight back. But she was too weak; he was too strong. He pressed his wide chest against her tits and pushed her hard into the wall. The friction of her skin against his erection only heightened his excitement. Father Murray rocked against the front of her bare pussy, his hands tightening and tightening until the whore’s eyes began to bulge. She clawed at his chest. But the battle, the pain she was trying to inflict on his pure soul, only made his hold around her neck tighten.

 

 

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

 

Author Links

 

 

 

REVIEW – RAPHAEL (Deadly Virtues, #1) by Tillie Cole

SYNOPSIS

They are the Fallen. A brotherhood of murderers whose nature compels them to kill. But guided by their leader, Gabriel, the Fallen have learned to use their urges to rid the world of those it is better off without.

For Raphael, sex and death are intertwined. Where there is one, there must be the other. He is a lust killer, luring his victims with the face of an angel and a body built for sin.

And Raphael lives to sin.

His newest mission takes him into the sadistic underworld of Boston’s secret sex clubs, and puts him face to face with his greatest fantasy made flesh.

Maria is everything he’s ever dreamed of, the kill he’s always longed for. She’s not his target. And he knows he must resist. But the temptation is too strong…

Yet Raphael is not the only one with a mission. Maria is not quite what she seems. And as her secrets and Raphael’s unravel, Maria begins to question everything she thought she knew—about evil, about the place she calls home, and about the beautiful sinner she was sent to destroy.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

 

The Fallen: Genesis a prequel novella in The Deadly Virtues Series and MUST be read before RAPHAEL (DV: book one).

 

 

*****Patty’s Review*****

*****FIVE+++++++ STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}

She was perfection. Of course, she would taste that way too. It was his soul telling him he had finally found the one. It just affirmed to Raphael that she was it. He had found his lusts perfect half, his sacrificial lamb.

RAPHAEL is a deliciously dark and sultry read. The most beautiful and equally as deadly as his six brothers who are labeled ”The Fallen”, Raphael captured my curiosity since the incredible prequel. At the moment, he is my absolute favorite dark angel, but I am sure each brother will eventually own a piece of my heart. I am so in love with this series and wish that I could get my hands on each and every brother’s story right this very minute. I have no doubt that readers are going to be completely spellbound by Tillie Cole’s latest epic saga.

Raphael, the beautiful dark angel with a penchant for strangling his victims never expected to find the living breathing embodiment of his ultimate fantasy when he was on a mission to kill another. Maria is his dream come true, but she’s hiding a huge secret. One that could potentially destroy him and his brothers. Raphael’s lust can’t be denied. He will break all the rules to have his ”little rose”. Will she be his ultimate redemption or his complete ruin?

Here are my overall ratings:

Hero: 5
Heroine: 5
Plot: 5++++++
Darkness: 5
Violence: 5
Steam: 5
Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine: 5

”RAPHAEL” is currently available! This is a book you’ll get completely lost in!!

Amazon https://amzn.to/2MXaQsm
Nook – http://bit.ly/2WRctfA
Kobo – http://bit.ly/2MQpotI
iBooks – smarturl.it/RaphaelTCB

LIVE – RAPHAEL (Deadly Virtues, #1) by Tillie Cole

 

 

 

 

They are the Fallen. A brotherhood of murderers whose nature compels them to kill. But guided by their leader, Gabriel, the Fallen have learned to use their urges to rid the world of those it is better off without.

For Raphael, sex and death are intertwined. Where there is one, there must be the other. He is a lust killer, luring his victims with the face of an angel and a body built for sin.

And Raphael lives to sin.

His newest mission takes him into the sadistic underworld of Boston’s secret sex clubs, and puts him face to face with his greatest fantasy made flesh.

Maria is everything he’s ever dreamed of, the kill he’s always longed for. She’s not his target. And he knows he must resist. But the temptation is too strong…

Yet Raphael is not the only one with a mission. Maria is not quite what she seems. And as her secrets and Raphael’s unravel, Maria begins to question everything she thought she knew—about evil, about the place she calls home, and about the beautiful sinner she was sent to destroy.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

 

 


The Fallen: Genesis a prequel novella in The Deadly Virtues Series and MUST be read before RAPHAEL (DV: book one).

 

 

 

 

“Are you ready, child?”

Maria nodded at Father Quinn, trying not to fall into the black well of despair. She had crawled out of the abyss once. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to do so again.

He checked his watch. “It’s past midnight. The club will be brimming with carnal sinners. Do you have your cards?” Maria checked in her purse for the ID card the priests had supplied her with and the card that allowed her into the club. Father Murray told her no questions would be asked of her—it was club policy. “Keep that purse with you at all times. And press that button when you see him, or if you feel you are in danger.” Maria nodded again. Her voice was silent as she mentally prepared for what was about to happen.

Maria made for the door, but Father Quinn stopped her with his hand on her arm. She spun around, and Father Quinn pushed a rosary into her hand. Maria had left hers at the convent for safekeeping. She missed the beads as they slipped through her hands in prayer. “Keep this with you, Maria. Do not wear it around your neck or have it where anyone will see. But keep it with you for courage. To know the Lord and Mother Mary are with you.” As soon as the rosary was dropped into her palm, peace filled her. She looked at the new rosary in her hand and studied the red beads and ornate silver cross, Jesus hanging on the crucifix, redeeming mankind’s sins. On closer inspection, Maria noticed a miniscule “B” carved into Jesus’s chest. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “But what does the ‘B’ stand for?”

Father Quinn’s eyes flashed with something she couldn’t understand. But he quickly recovered enough to say, “I was told it was originally to represent the Boston archdiocese.” Maria nodded, although she was surprised she had never seen such a design before. Father Quinn laid a hand on her shoulder. Maria froze. She wasn’t comfortable being touched. Especially by a man. Father Quinn leaned in close. “But I like to think it stands for ‘Baptist.’ As in John the Baptist. The man whose sacrifice paved the way for Jesus to save all mankind.”

Maria let those words wash over her. “I like that too,” she replied and kept the rosary in her hand. She turned to the door and, without looking back, stepped out into the hallway and began her mission.

In the privacy of the elevator that would take her to the hotel’s foyer, Maria tucked the rosary into her left bra strap. If she couldn’t wear it publicly, she would wear it as close to her heart as she could manage.

Her legs were jelly as she crossed the marble floor of the lobby and walked on unsteady feet out into the frigid Boston winter. The club was only a few yards away. Keeping her head held high, she played her part as best she could. Feigning confidence had been the greatest challenge so far. Maria was used to keeping her eyes to the ground, hands clasped in constant prayer. Her hands were not linked, but she could still find peace in her faith. Hail Mary, full of grace, Maria prayed silently in her mind as she approached the liquor store. She walked through the automatic doors and headed to the back room, praying she had the entrance right. A steep staircase awaited her on the other side. A large man stood at the bottom of it. Maria handed him her cards as he looked her up and down with a salacious smirk on his face. Handing back the cards, he opened the gate that allowed her to pass upstairs.

Maria heard the music from inside pulsing against the walls. She clutched her purse tightly. Maria had never been to a club before. Before she was taken by William Bridge she had been too young. When she was freed, she pledged herself to the church. Maria was sheltered in a way most twenty-one-year-olds were not. Normally, she was thankful. Right now, she wished she had some prior knowledge of what she was walking into.

Ignoring her shaking hand, Maria opened the door to the club and almost stumbled at the sight that greeted her. She froze on seeing a woman tied to a wooden stake in the center of the room, bound by leather straps and metal chains. She was naked but for a strip of black material in her mouth . . . and there was a man, dressed in a three-piece suit, flogging her with a thin leather strap. Even over the blasting music, Maria heard the strap lashing, marring the woman’s skin. There was even blood. But what disturbed Maria more was the look of ecstasy on her face.

Maria could barely breathe. There wasn’t a part of her that was functioning as it should. Her breathing and heartbeat were too quick. Her eyes were too wide and her mouth was dry in shock.

What was this place? Maria wanted to run.

 

 

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

 

Author Links

 

 

 

BLOG TOUR – THE FALLEN: GENESIS (Deadly Virtues, #0.5) by Tillie Cole

 

 

 

 

 
The Fallen: Genesis is a prequel novella in The Deadly Virtues Series and MUST be read before RAPHAEL (DV: book one).

 

 

*****

 

THE FALLEN: GENESIS

(A Deadly Virtues Prequel)

IN THE BEGINNING…

They told them they were evil.

They told them they were possessed by demons.

They told them that darkness ran in their veins.

Holy Innocents Home for Children is a haven for orphaned boys who have nothing and no one. The priests watch over them, educate them, raise them in the family of the church.

Except for some.

Seven of the orphans are no ordinary boys. They attract the attention of the priests for their acts of violence, of bloodlust. The priests realize these boys are drawn to the darkness.

And the priests are no ordinary priests. They are the Brethren, a secret sect who believe themselves on a divine mission to seek out evil in the boys in their care. Seek it out, and then drive it out.

The seven have fallen from God’s grace. And the Brethren will cleanse their blackened souls…

Dark Contemporary Romance novella. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

Joseph watched helplessly as James moved from his place against the far wall toward a boy on a chair on the opposite side of the room. A boy who had slim knives embedded in his arms and legs—a human pin cushion.

Joseph shivered as he recalled his brother’s expression a moment ago as he’d sat and stared at the knives he had sliced into the boy’s flesh. James, the sadistic voyeur of his own work. Joseph’s nervous eyes landed on his brother’s target. The boy was bound with ropes, and a washcloth was stuffed into his mouth,silencing his cries.

Luke.

Fear flooded Joseph’s body. Luke, the boy who had been intent on bullying James since the age of eight. The boy who would spit at James’s feet when they walked by. The boy who call him weird, a goth, a psychopath who rarely spoke. His taunts were endless. Joseph didn’t think the verbal bullets had ever hit their target . . . until he’d found a pad of paper hidden underneath James’s bed. A pad of paper showing in graphic detail what James wanted to do to Luke.

Tie him up.

Cut his flesh.

Exsanguinate his body.

Then drink the blood down.

“They’re just fantasy, right?” Joseph asked James when he returned from detention. Joseph held up the drawings. Page after page of pain and despair and cruelty.

James walked slowly to Joseph and ran his hand down the open page of the pad, delicately running his fingertip over the pencil image of Luke’s slit throat. “It’s a promise,” James said, with no shame in his voice. “Each page is what will happen to Luke.” James finally met his older brother’s eyes. “I’m just waiting for the perfect time.”

From that day on Joseph made sure Luke never got too close to James, for fear of what his younger brother would do. Because Joseph believed every word his brother had said.

The truth was, Joseph knew that someday, if he wasn’t stopped, James would do something so terrible he wouldn’t be able to come back from it.

And Joseph had no idea how to cure James. He didn’t know how to heal his little brother of the wretchedness that had lodged itself into his soul. He prayed for a miracle he knew would never come.

Joseph’s heart pounded as James held up another knife. His brother’s torso was bare, the scars from his frequent self-mutilation clear to see, white roads of flesh mapping the veins that ran under his skin. Veins that carried the blood James so desperately craved; nightly, once safe in their room, he would slice them open and lick the falling drops as they ran in crimson rivulets down his arms.

Joseph thrashed on the bed, fighting the binds James must have placed him in while he slept. “James, listen to me,” Joseph said as he helplessly watched his brother slowly push his blade into Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s chair almost fell as he screamed into the washcloth, the fabric absorbing his cry. But James didn’t even flinch. Joseph’s stomach clenched when the blood started to pour from Luke’s shoulder as James carefully extracted the blade.

Eleven. That’s all James was. Eleven years old, yet thought only of blood . . . worse, even . . . thought only about the consumption of blood.

 

 

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

 

Author Links

 

 

 

CHAPTER REVEAL – RAPHAEL (Deadly Virtues, #1) by Tillie Cole

 

 

 

 

They are the Fallen. A brotherhood of murderers whose nature compels them to kill. But guided by their leader, Gabriel, the Fallen have learned to use their urges to rid the world of those it is better off without.

For Raphael, sex and death are intertwined. Where there is one, there must be the other. He is a lust killer, luring his victims with the face of an angel and a body built for sin.

And Raphael lives to sin.

His newest mission takes him into the sadistic underworld of Boston’s secret sex clubs, and puts him face to face with his greatest fantasy made flesh.

Maria is everything he’s ever dreamed of, the kill he’s always longed for. She’s not his target. And he knows he must resist. But the temptation is too strong…

Yet Raphael is not the only one with a mission. Maria is not quite what she seems. And as her secrets and Raphael’s unravel, Maria begins to question everything she thought she knew—about evil, about the place she calls home, and about the beautiful sinner she was sent to destroy.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

 

The Fallen: Genesis a prequel novella in The Deadly Virtues Series and MUST be read before RAPHAEL (DV: book one).

 

 

 

The sound of Gabriel’s Gregorian chant music drifted up the Tomb’s steep, winding stairs. Raphael ran his fingertips along the gray stone walls. They were damp underneath his skin, slick with the stagnant water that trickled in from the overflowing lake outside. Forest-green moss crept in through cracks and fractures in the brick, betraying the manor’s age.

With every step he descended into the candlelit darkness, Raphael’s heart began to thunder into a heady velocity. The string that forever sat on his right index finger was so tight he could feel his pulse throbbing in the very tip. He focused on the rhythm of the beat, on the tightness of the string wrapped around and around and around his flesh. A fire of pleasure broke out in his chest and surged through his veins at the tightness, the suffocation, the hedonistic asphyxiation of the digit. It was a denial of blood, of the life his finger needed to survive, to thrive—to exist. Raphael’s lip kicked up in a smirk. He knew the tip of his finger would be blue, starved of the sustenance it needed to function. He hissed out in pleasure when the fire that vision ignited darted straight to his cock. Raphael didn’t care if his brothers heard him moan out loud. They would be caught in their own heads, their own excitement of possibly getting the kill, to care—they never cared.

Raphael felt Michael breathing heavily behind him, affirming his point. He knew Michael would be stroking the vial of blood around his neck while almost coming in his leather pants at the thought of sinking his sharp teeth into a vein and sucking down the blood. Gabriel told them Michael had something called hematolagnia. He had a word for what he claimed “ailed” all of them.

Nothing ailed them.

Gabriel just didn’t understand the way the six of them were, the way they had to be. The six of the Fallen who were nothing like Gabriel. They liked to kill. Needed to as much as they needed to breathe. It wasn’t abnormal to them. Blood and flesh and cries of pain inflicted by their hands didn’t bring repulsion, only satisfaction.

It was simply who they were.

Out of all the brothers, Raphael was closest to Michael. But right now, each of the brothers was completely alone. The Revelation ceremony brought out the utmost selfishness in them.

The chance to bring death consumed them.

Controlled them.

And Raphael wouldn’t have it any other way.

Raphael’s cock grew hard in his jeans at just the thought of taking someone’s last breath. He pushed the heel of his hand against his crotch as the blood rushed to it, but the burst of painful pleasure that spiraled up his spine only made him groan louder. The rubber cage he always wore around his dick constricted his flesh and began to strain, biting into him as the rubber rebelled against his hardening. The BDSM contraption was designed to bring pain. And it was successful; pain it brought. But Raphael didn’t see pain as a punishment. He lived for pain. The more agony he felt, the more pleasure he felt. He basked in the throttling of his penis, relished the choking of his erection as it tried to break free of the rubber constraints.

Raphael lost his footing, his back slamming into the wet wall. He barely even noticed his shirt growing damp as his eyes closed. All Raphael could focus on was the cage’s incessant strangling. His hands curled into fists as the addictive fire ravaged his body.

Flashes of his ultimate fantasy poured into his mind, fueling his ecstasy. He was powerless. He couldn’t stop them if he tried. But why would he? It was what inspired him to get out of bed each day, birthed every single breath his lungs inhaled. What he had waited years for, and would wait a lifetime more to capture. Raphael’s breathing became deep and labored as he imagined the scene—the king-sized bed, the red rose petals thrown on the pure white Egyptian cotton comforter. And her, the one, sprawled out for him on her back, naked, a temptation made true. Her cheeks would be flushed, and her lips would be cherry red. Her skin would be so soft, no blemish in sight, eyes bright and fixed on Raphael, piercing his gaze with nothing but adoration. She would be his, and he would be hers. There would be nobody else for either of them. She would be his one possession that he would have for all of his days.

Raphael knew his pupils were dilated beneath his closed lids—oddly colored golden-brown eyes that set him apart from everyone else. His greatest tool, eyes that lured in his victims—meaningless women he would chase for a while, seducing, enticing, making them enamored with everything he pretended to be . . . before he pillaged their lives, fucking them hard as death collected their souls, releasing into their dying bodies as he consumed their final heartbeat and breath with his unyielding hands.

Raphael’s eyes snapped open when he heard the church bell echo around the stone basement—Gabriel’s signal to robe for Revelation. As he descended the final steps, the tight rubber cage around his cock caused pre-cum to leak into his jeans. He lived for the sexual strangulation. He needed it as much as he needed to breathe.

Raphael realized he was late. He raced through the wide wooden door of the Tomb. His brothers were already in robes, the heavy hoods covering their heads as they silently awaited his arrival.

 

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

 

Author Links