I found this from my Facebook Group for book promotion, looks interesting and Ava was kind enough to provide a small sample which I wanted to copy and paste here. Great artwork as well!
FOUR dominant dragon lords. ONE sacrificial virgin.
Buy on Amazon or FREE in KU: myBook.to/SacrificeReverseHarem
“Are you the one who saved me?” I ask.
“From the dragon.”
He regards me, his gaze intense. “Yes, the dragon. As fearsome a beast as ever lived.” He walks to the bed and puts a hand on one of the posts. “Were you afraid, little one? When you first saw it, what went through your mind?”
I clutch the cover to my chest. The man is staring at me. Something about his eyes ring familiar. But that’s impossible. I’ve never seen him before.
I struggle to answer his question. “First, that my life was over. Then…” I summon the memory of the moment the dragon’s massive head rose above the lip of the ledge, the sheer size of it. “And then, I thought it was the most terrible, most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
The corner of his mouth curves into a smile. “You are a brave girl. What do they call you?”
“Lyla.” He repeats it, as if tasting my name on his tongue. “Did you save me?” I ask again. “What happened? It took me…in its claw…” I curl my hand, subconsciously mimicking it. I close my eyes, trying to recall more. “I do not know what happened next.”
“And you do not need to.” His voice is deep. It seems to rumble from within. His accent is strange to my ears. “All that matters is that you are safe. And mine.”
“Yours?” I twist my hands into the sheet I clutch at my breast.“
Yes, little one.” He moves to the side of the bed. By the gods, he is huge! His thighs, smooth and brown, bulge with muscles as he walks. My heart begins to flutter in my chest at his approach.
“You are here, unscathed.” He smiles. “Do you not think I deserve a boon for that?”
“A boon?” I try to swallow my nervousness. I’d planned for death, but not for this. My mind races as it sinks in what he wants. “My mother…she will be so glad to know that I’m alive. She could give you…”
My voice falters and I look around. What could my poor mother give this man whose bed is larger than a room in my house. My gaze falls on the rich tapestries on the wall, the sumptuous firs on the stone floor. He leans over, puts a finger under my chin. His eyes lock onto mine. The irises are green, then gray, then gold.
“You are the boon,” he says.