26 February, 2015

Blog Tour - Book Series Spotlight: Nights in Venice by Tara Crescent





About the Author:

Hello, I’m Tara Cresent. I’ve always fantasized about being a mysterious spy, leading a secret double-life, and now, I find that that’s come true!

Sort of.

By day, I’m a mild-mannered corporate drone in Toronto, but by night, I’m limited only by my imagination; I sit, and I type, and I am a daring writer of BDSM, erotica and romance.

In my spare time, I write of course. I also read, garden, travel, cook, and almost never clean. I just started watching Walking Dead on Netflix (zombie erotica, anyone?), and I’m impatiently awaiting the next episode of Doctor Who. (I would kill for a TARDIS.)

I’ve scribbled bits and pieces all my life, chiefly inspired by what I’m reading, which tends to be mainly science-fiction and fantasy, with a healthy sprinkling of romance and erotica thrown in.

I’m a huge believer in happily-ever-after, but tempered by real life, where happily-ever-after is possible, but takes work. My favorite kind of romance stories are ones that are somewhat believable; I like strong men and women who know what they want out of life, and are driven to get it.

I love reader email; I can be reached at taracrescent@gmail.com.

Happy reading and writing!

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Nights in Venice Series
Adult Contemporary Erotica


A Thief in Venice (Nights in Venice #1)
Published: 14 August 2014

Two thieves. One painting. One very dangerous game.

For seven years, Lucia Petrucci has stolen a painting every year to keep the memory of her parents alive. But now she has made a mistake. She has crossed the most dangerous man in Venice. Antonio Moretti, Head of the Thieves Guild.

She has stolen from Antonio, and he wants retribution. Can Lucia pay his price?

Goodreads | Amazon



An Heiress in Venice (Nights in Venice #2)
Published: 16 September 2014

He is Enzo Peron. By day, he is a Chief Inspector of Police in Venice. By night, a Dominant at Casanova, Venice’s most exclusive BDSM club.

She is Alice Blackwell, an American heiress who has fled to Venice. She comes to Club Casanova, hoping to explore the submissive desires she has held in check for many years.

He dominates her. She submits to him.

But Alice has a past, and it is determined to reclaim her.

Goodreads | Amazon



A Starlet in Venice (Nights in Venice #3)
Published: 21 October 2014

Every single man who looks at me wants me. To them, I am merely a sexy body, there to play a leading role in their wet dreams. I am never anything more.

Except Liam. Liam Callahan wants only friendship from me, and I should be delighted. I certainly don’t want anything else from him. I don’t want to be bent over his lap and spanked. I don’t want to be tied up and flogged, and I definitely don’t want him to make love to me.

Do I?

Goodreads | Amazon




Nights in Venice Series Blog Tour Arranged by Mark My Words Book Publicity.


23 February, 2015

Release Day Tour - Book Excerpt: One Night in Close Exposure (Snapshots #2) by Ashley C. Harris





About the Author:

Author and film director Ashley C. Harris resides in Florida. Ashley was first recognized for her edgy writing and unique film work when she wrote and directed the teenage film Lines. Lines was the first feature film in the world captured using only Mac Laptops.

In 2013 Ashley teamed up with Barclay Publicity to release the first title in a new young adult series Shock Me. Ashley then went on to release the first of a new NA series, One Night in Heated Snapshots, that quickly reached Amazon's Best Selling top ten list for sports romances.

When she is not dreaming up new books and working on film sets, she loves to spend time with her friends and family.

Keep a close watch for Ashley's newest young adult books releases!

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Excerpt from One Night in Close Exposure:

“Beth, you need to go ... ” is what her mom had told her repeatedly all week long the moment there was breaking news that Sterling Johnson, and a whole slew of other Olympic athletes, were flying into Beth’s city for the governor’s honorary ball. Beth knew her mom was right, what other chance would she get to talk to Sterling at this point, especially now that he had actually broken a new world record and joined the U.S.A. Olympic team? The answer was none.

Too many people had begun calling him the minute his Olympic swimming status was announced on a national level, which is why he must have switched numbers, breaking off the possibility of Beth getting ahold of him again. Well, not all possibility, but the truth was she hadn’t ever wanted to face him after their one steamy night that had ended so wrong. But now, just as Sterling’s stellar Olympic news was announced, she had learned her own life stopping drama. In fact, she was pretty sure her life was over as she imagined her dreams and aspirations suddenly crashing to the floor. Oh God, how can this really be happening to me? How can I do this, Lord?

She entered the ballroom with waves of hot nausea assaulting her. Smells of seafood and other appetizers were making her stomach turn in the worst possible way. Of course, her stomach had been turning for two and a half months now; she just hadn’t realized it was morning sickness until it was too late. I’ve been so foolish ...

There was a big yellow taped off area where media was not allowed to pass and yet Beth stood at the very edge of it with her photography media badge, looking. Would she be able to get Sterling’s attention ahead of time before the speeches came? A bodyguard warned her with his stern eyes not to dare take a step further and trip up the rope.

Nervous energy caused her to tremble at the thought of speaking to Sterling now, looking upon his tall height and too ripped abs, ripped in a way that made him this next generation’s newest Michael Phelps and Michael Lochte rolled into one. Young fans posted statuses on the web that Sterling’s face was far more handsome, far more perfect, than any swimmer before him. His photos had been spread across all the papers, capturing his best angles. Beth had to admit, it seemed like they were right.

If only everyone knew the true man and his motives under that swim cap.


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One Night in Close Exposure (Snapshots #2)
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Published: 23 February 2015

Beth, in another life, was a top student and had nothing but visions of a successful career in her head. That was until one night with Sterling Johnson, the sexy and deceitful swim champion next door, who changed her entire future. Now, because of that night from her past, Beth’s path as a photographer is forever changed. Gone is the young women she used to be as she struggles to keep a secret hidden.

Sterling Johnson, on the other hand, has quickly become America’s favorite Olympic athlete. Constantly followed and stalked by the press and the father he has turned his back on, Sterling craves someone who isn’t interested in his celebrity.

When a publicity stunt takes him back to a wild college campus and Beth, who turns out to be the media photographer assigned to his story, the flame he thought was dead rekindles. Will Beth prove to be the only girl not interested in his celebrity status? Or are her own twisted secrets and lies about to bring both their worlds down?

Goodreads | Barnes and Noble | Amazon


Check out the first book in the Snapshots Series, One Night In Heated Snapshots, on Goodreads HERE.




One Night in Close Exposure Release Blog Tour Arranged By Barclay Publicity.


21 February, 2015

Chapter Reveal: Scorch (Delirious #3) by Clarissa Wild (@ClarissaWild)





About the Author:

Clarissa Wild is the USA Today Bestselling author of FIERCE, a college romance series, but she's best known for the dark Romance novel Mr. X. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, the Doing It Series and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.

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WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, strong language, drugs and alcohol, dubious consent, and graphic violence. Discretion is advised for readers under 18 years of age.



Prologue
Accompanying song: "I'm Dying" by VAST
Ashley
June 20th, 2013.
Flames engulf me. They lick my skin, fill me to the brink with fear. I’m trapped with no way out. My eyes can only see darkness as black as my body will become if I stay here a second longer. My vision is clouded by smoke, the rooms and hallways turned into a ghostly scene. Screams come from all directions, whines and loud bangs following suit. I don’t know where I’m going, but anywhere is better than here. I have to escape this sea of flames. A torrent of fire scorches the walls, blazing through the doors. I jump over fallen rubble and molten wood, running through any visible gaps I can find. It’s here, it has to be here. The door to freedom … it’s supposed to be here. Fire follows me everywhere, like a trail set to destroy me, but I won’t let it burn me. I chose this path. I was the one who set this chain of events in motion, and now I must find a way out of this hellhole before it swallows me whole. It’s either this fire or this facility that will be my undoing, and I’d rather be turned into a crisp than spend one more second in this place. Everything I did was for my own freedom, and I won’t let anything ruin it, not even a fucking burning building. Right now, I don’t care about anyone else but me. I did it all for me. That’s right, I chose to only follow my own instincts so I could benefit from it. I’m a selfish motherfucker, but I don’t regret a thing. For once I deserve a little peace. Forever do I deserve justice. No one more than me deserves to get out of this place. But this fire is catching up with me quickly, and I don’t know if I can outrun it. My lungs burn as I suck in the last viable breath, trying to stop coughing. The smoke is killing me, but I won’t give up. I won’t stop running, won’t stop fighting, won’t stop screaming until I gave it my all and then some. I won’t go down without reason. I won’t. I fucking won’t! Adrenaline fuels my body as I rush past falling debris, crisscrossing through the hallway until a door comes into sight. Hope zings through my veins, giving me a rush as I make a sprint toward freedom. I jump over fire and lunge at the door, pulling it open as I go. There’s another door just up ahead. The exit sign is the only light that shines down upon me as I close the door behind me and try to open it. The door is locked. I jerk it a couple of times, but it won’t budge. Panic rolls through me, making all the hairs on my body stand up, as I jerk the door again and again. “C’mon,” I say. “C’mon you worthless piece of shit!” I punch the door, but it’s no use. Nothing I do works. I cry out as I pull on the door as hard as I can and ram my feet into the wood in an effort to break free. Fire has consumed the hallway behind me, and I can smell the smoke rising up from the hole underneath the door. It won’t be long until it enters this room and when it does I have to be out. “Why won’t you fucking open?” I scream at the door. If this damned door would open, I would be out of here by now, but it seems to be made of pure cement or something. Nothing I do works. I can feel the heat of the fire penetrating the walls, creeping in from underneath the door behind me. As I look over my shoulder the small gap is lit like the sun. Oh God, it’s so close, I can almost feel it. There’s no escape now. I can’t turn around and find a different exit. I’m trapped and the fire has come for me. And this fucking door won’t open, no matter what I do. Salty tears enter my mouth as I yell and kick the door in a futile move to free myself. Nothing I do works. Nothing. After a while, I sink to the hard floor, burying my face in my hands. I’m done for. This is it, this is the end. I was the only one who could save me, who could get me out of here. This was my last chance and I blew it. What ifs float through my head. What if I hadn’t listened to him? What if I didn’t let him use me for his own pleasure? What would have happened if I didn’t let him into my heart? Would I have made the same choices? No, but I doubt I would’ve come as far as I have now. Which terrifies me even more. All the choices I made or could have made would’ve led to only two outcomes. I would either remain here or in another facility as their sex puppet or I’d flee and probably die. I guess I got what I wanted after all. In the end, I realize it’s what I asked for. I should’ve listened when he said there was no escaping this place … and him. The only way out is death itself. I should accept my fate with the last shred of dignity I have left, but I can’t fight this dread creeping into my soul. After all that planning, all that work, all that lying, cheating, stealing, and betraying, I ended up alone and trapped in a room as small as a fucking closet. I exchanged my body for a little bit of hope, and what I got was a miserable end to my suffering. What a horrible way to die.

Chapter 1
Accompanying song: "Better With You" by Of Verona
Ashley
February 12th, 2013.
Gray. Everything is gray. Not black. Not white. Not clear or unclear. Not good or bad. Just gray. I’m gray. I’m not angry or sad. Not happy or depressed. I’m in the middle where there are no decisions and no emotions. Nothing. I’m nothing. Feeling nothing, worth nothing, doing nothing, staring into nothingness. And I don’t care. Not even a little bit. My legs are cramped, but the pain soothes me. I wobble up and down … up and down … forward and backwards. My nails dig into my skin as I hold my knees close, staring at the wall in front of me. I watch the cracks, feeling like they’re changing in shape. I know each and every one of them from the head, but somehow this one particular crack seems unfamiliar, and it makes me curious. Tempted, I lean forward and place my index finger on the wall. The nakedness of the structure creates goose bumps on my skin as I touch something for the first time in hours. I love the texture, how different it feels with each stroke. Each bump and each indent are like a map to me, I’ve studied them all. I know exactly where every nook and cranny is. Except this one. It’s not familiar to me at all, which holds my attention like nothing else. Was this crack always here? I wonder, and yet that’s not possible, because I know this cell better than the back of my own hand. Maybe I am really losing my mind. As they say, surrounding yourself with crazies makes you fucked up too. The thought makes me smile. It wasn’t always that I believed I was crazy, that I was losing it, but now that I’m in here, I know the true meaning of going nuts. It suits me well. There aren’t a lot of things that I’ve taken with me when I came here. Whoever I was before died the night they kidnapped me. They … the men who used me like I was some kind of whore. Like I was theirs to abuse. As if I wasn’t a person. They said I should be glad I’m still alive … I say they should be scared that I’m still alive. In my corner, I wobble up and down, my eyes skimming the walls and ceiling for any new cracks that I might have overlooked. It’s important to keep track of any changes in my environment; who knows, it might come in handy someday. Like, for escaping. Or, I don’t know, smacking someone over the head with some fallen rubble. You never know. I say I don’t feel anything, but maybe that’s a lie. A lie I tell myself so I can keep living and stay sane while I reside in pure insanity. There is only so much a human can accept and live with. I’m not going to claim I can take it all. I can’t, but at least I know the truth. That has to be worth something. In this prison I seem like a girl who’s lost everything. And I can’t say I don’t agree. I have lost everything that I once deemed mine. My body, my freedom, my mind. But no matter the sacrifices, they will never own my heart or soul. Those are two things that remain untouched, two things I will use to destroy everything. Yes … in this place where I sit like a dog in a corner, bumbling to myself like a lunatic I scheme … I scheme to betray all that is good in order to escape. And then I will have vengeance. I won’t die before they do. And if I do, so help me god, I will pull them down this hellhole with me. *** Five hours later ... “Hey!” A loud banging noise pulls me from my wobbling trance. “Are you even fucking listening?” I glance over my shoulder, snarling at the guard who rams his baton on the glass. I give him a squinty growl and then return to my sulking. No use wasting energy on dimwits who can’t or won’t help me. Nobody in here will help me, which is exactly the reason why I should focus on my own plans. And my plans are to survive … and then kill. Every bang is another reminder of the noise inside my head, the screams, the pain that I bury. Their faces haunt me, and I lick the memory of their viciousness like a tiger licking its wounds. It feeds me, the rage … it keeps me alive, so that one day I can do the same to them. “Whore …” My nose twitches. Don’t react, Ashley. Don’t show them any emotion. Don’t give into their taunts. It’s what they want, what they need, and I won’t give it to them. If this is my final sliver of power, I’ll fight to keep it. “Hey, see this?” he says. “Fuck you. Suck my dick.” He stomps the glass. “Don’t you fucking ignore me, you piece of shit.” I swear, this is how they talk to patients in every normal psychiatric hospital. It’s normal. I roll my eyes. “Oh, fuck you. You don’t even deserve to live. Sad, worthless girl.” He laughs. “Pathetic …” He stomps the glass a final time before he’s ripped away. I turn around to see if he’s gone, but a hand on the glass draws my attention. The door clicks open. My ears perk up. A shiny, black boot steps in. Nobody’s stepped foot in here. Not since I arrived. Something’s about to change. Big time. I turn around and face the wall. Can’t show any interest. Curiosity is weakness, and weakness gets you killed. I don’t plan on dying just yet. I know how dangerous this place can be. Even when I’m trapped in this pretentious building, I know who runs this place … who decides what happens with me. Those men who used me keep me captive here like a dog. The slightest action I take will be on camera, and then shit’s going to hit the fan. I’d rather pretend to be meek and easy. It makes it easier to stab everyone in the back later. “Leave us.” His voice is stern, authoritative. Confident, but not too cocky. Probably a higher-up, but not in a way that gives him any real power. The door slides open and he steps further in. The sound of his clicking shoes draw my attention, and the way he closes the door again, very softly, gives me the idea he likes to think he’s in control. No one can control me. No one. A metallic sound ensues. Something is placed on the small table in the middle of my cell. And then he directs his attention toward me. “Your name.” I don’t answer. There is no reason nor motivation for me. He steps forward. I smash my lips together as I watch his shadow grow on the wall. The bright light emanating from the door is a little frightening when it lights him up like this, as if he’s a stalker creeping up to his prey. “I said, your name.” His voice has gotten darker, more menacing. I won’t allow myself to get scared. Not in here. He stands behind me and I watch his shadow on the wall, waiting for him to make a move, waiting for him to explode. Except he doesn’t. What he does instead makes me swallow away a lump in my throat. He pets me. With his hand on my head he makes soft strokes through my hair, sliding down toward my neck, and then back up to the top of my head. It’s eerie as well as totally unnerving that this man is touching me like this. Does he want me to resist? Or does he want me to fight? What is he expecting? “You’re not quite the listener, are you?” he says. I frown, but don’t answer him, and keep my eyes on the wall. I won’t give him an ounce of myself. “That’s okay … I have plenty of time.” My lips part, but then I shut them again. Goddammit. I’m almost tempted to ask questions, but it would only give him more insight into who I am. I can’t give them that luxury. “Oh my dear pet …” He chuckles. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” “What?” Shit. I shut my mouth the moment I realize I spoke. Fuck! He laughs again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be good for you, as long as you’re good for me.” “What the fuck?” “Don’t try to understand. You can’t,” he says, continuously petting me like I’m a dog. My muscles tense from his fingers suddenly curling into the base of my neck. “I know you know what happened to you. I know you remember everything.” He pinches my flesh. “You know why you’re here.” Yes, I do. I remember vividly what those men did to me, and for that I must be punished. I can’t be controlled, I can’t be made to think I’m insane, and that makes me a liability. That makes them want to put me in here. There is no mercy in this world. So I answer, “To be silenced and locked away forever.” “Exactly.” I sigh, trying not to feel threatened or angry by this admission, but it’s hard to ignore the bubbling rage. “Stand up,” he commands. His voice is unforgiving, to the point of me actually standing up. That’s a mighty feat. It’s not because I’m scared … more because I’m interested in why he has come to tell me news I already knew. “Turn around.” I slowly spin on my feet, my face completely blank as I face the man who came into my space. His longish, dark-brown hair falls beside his eyes like curtains darkening his narrow face. He has a cleft in his chin and strong cheekbones. His pitch-black eyes make me shiver. There is a slight smile on his thin lips. On his jacket is a peculiar pin button, one that I haven’t seen before. It’s one of the doctors, but not one I’ve seen before. They’re not all really doctors; some are, but most are fakes, meant to keep the patients in check. That’s all they do here; put up a show so nobody makes a scene, so everybody behaves. Everybody but me, that is. That’s why they put me in this concrete cage. “You are mine now,” he says. “I am no one’s possession, just a prisoner,” I snarl. He straightens my shirt which hangs slightly askew across my shoulders. I like it better that way. It’s my way to rebel in a place with so little possibilities to fight. “You are a prisoner and I am the one who holds the key to your cage.” I muffle a laugh. “So? That doesn’t make me yours.” “It will. Sooner or later.” He smiles. “You’re my pet now. There’s no reason for either of us to pretend you will ever believe our words or forget what you know.” “I won’t,” I interject. “But I’m not going to be a toy for you either.” He squints. “You don’t have a choice.” “Like you do. They are the ones keeping me here, not you. You don’t have me, they do.” “They gave you to me.” “What?” Gave? Like I’m some sort of gift? The idea makes me want to hurl. “I doubt that.” “They don’t have time to deal with difficult girls.” “Good,” I say, swatting his hand away when he tries to grab a strand of my hair. “I’ll be even more difficult then.” He laughs again. “I enjoy a challenge.” “Is that why they gave me to you? I’m not some lion you can tame.” “Your claws are sharp, though,” he muses. I can’t stop the twitch in my nose. Goddammit, I want to kill this guy. “Like I said, you’re mine now, and I intend to make you … less annoyingly difficult.” “How?” I say. “That’s going to take a lot of effort. Annoying is my middle name.” I snort. “You’ll see how.” The grin on his face makes me want to slap the living shit out of him. For a second, I contemplate on doing just that, but then I remind myself there is a camera in the left corner and someone behind is must be looking, waiting for me to bite. And then they can do even worse things to me. I won’t let it happen. “Complicated cases are handed to me. Impossible ones even. Girls who refuse to bend.” He walks to the table and then turns around to face me again. “I break them.” I study him for a moment. “Who are you?” He cocks his head and points at the chair in front of him. “Sit.” Of course, he won’t answer me. My eyes narrow. “Why?” “I will tell you if you listen to me.” Taking a deep breath, I take the chance and slump toward the table. Sitting down isn’t my style, I prefer throwing my ass into the chair. Just a little defiance keeps me going. Only now do I spot the plate of food on the opposite end of the table. My mouth instantly begins to water. “You can have it … if you behave.” He sits down on the table, in between me and the view of the food. I immediately look up at him, probably with the face of a troll. Right now, I’m too hungry for anyone to stand in between me and my food. I lunge forward to grab it, but he’s so much faster than me, grabbing my wrists and jamming them to the table. “I said, behave.” “Fuck you. I don’t owe you shit.” “You do if you want to live.” Sighing, I sit back, sulking in my chair. Goddammit, I’m fucking hungry. They haven’t fed me properly since I came here. Small amounts of porridge and dry bread don’t get me through the day. They’re so fucking cheap, I sometimes wish they had just killed me instead. “What do you want?” I say. “You.” The way he says it, so sure of himself … so sure that he’ll get what he wants, makes my skin crawl. “Why? Why me?” He glances behind him and points at the camera in the corner. “I’ve been watching you for some time.” “Pervert.” He smiles. “You probably don’t even realize how accurate that is.” Oh my god. He has to be kidding … right? He leans in and I lean back in my chair to get away. “You can’t escape this place, Ashley.” My eyes widen at the sound of my own name. “Yeah, I know what you’re called,” he muses. “Did you think I asked you because I didn’t know? Or because I wanted you to speak?” he growls. “You wanted me to give you what you want.” “Exactly.” He cocks his head again. “You’re beginning to understand.” “Why on earth would I do what you want?” “Oh, I have plenty of reasons, but an important one in particular.” He’s so close now, I can feel his breath on my skin. He whispers, “I can help you be free.” That word makes me choke up. “Why … why would I trust you? You can’t promise me anything.” “You can’t, but you don’t have a choice. Either you listen to me and do what I say, or you stay in here … forever.” Those words make me want to scream, but I don’t. It’s what he wants, I can see it in his eyes. That glint of amusement at his own victory. It’s the ugly truth. “What do you want from me?” I ask. “Why did you come here? Why now, after all those days?” He shifts his position on the metal table which creaks. “You’re separated, so you could calm down and we could observe your reaction to the environment.” “I’m a Guinea pig.” “Not entirely. You were just one of the few who didn’t go into full denial.” “I would die before I would forget what those monsters did to me!” I yell, suddenly overcome by fury. His eyes flare with excitement. “Hmmm …” “Do you even know?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Do you realize what you’re doing?” “I do.” “Then you’re just as bad as they are.” I avert my eyes. He suddenly leans forward, grabs my chin, and forces me to look at him. “I am not like them, and do not for a moment suggest that I am.” He releases me with a slight twitch of his hand. Clearing his throat, he says, “For your own sake it would have been much better if you’d simply forgotten what you’d experienced, but unfortunately for the both of us, that isn’t the case.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “Now, if you wish to live, you will listen and do as I say. You know how they are … if you’re difficult, we have no other choice but to–” “Kill me.” He seems caught off guard by my comment. “Yeah, I know what they’re like. Are you like that too?” I ask, leaning forward with my elbow on the table. “Because that makes you just as evil.” For a moment, his eyes narrow slightly, and his tongue quickly darts out to wet the side of his lip, but it disappears as quickly as it came. He turns his head and gazes at the food. “I think we’re done talking.” He jumps off the table and fetches the food before I have time to react. He doesn’t give it to me, instead, he holds it in his hand and walks to the door. “Where are you going?” “If you’re not going to behave, why do you think you deserve this?” “Because I’m fucking hungry, and I need it. Jesus Christ, I haven’t eaten a proper meal in days!” I shout, scooting the chair back. “Sit. Down.” His voice echoes against the door. I grind my teeth. “Give it to me.” It’s quiet for a second. “Ask nicely.” I sigh out loud. “Goddammit, can I please have it?” He glances over his shoulder. “Is that your nice side?” “As nice as it gets with me.” I fold my arms. He laughs like he’s really amused by that. “We’ll have to work on that then.” He turns around and walks toward the table again. I breathe a sigh of relief as he puts the plate back on the table and slides it to my side. “This is because I’m nice now.” He smiles. “Not because you deserve it.” I growl, but don’t respond, because I don’t want him to take this away from me. I immediately grab a fork and start gobbling up the mashed potatoes like a starving homeless girl. “You see? Do as I say, and you get what you want. Simple,” he muses. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll bring you better food. I’ll make sure you’re left alone.” “In exchange for what?” I ask, spooning up some applesauce. He grins. “You’ll know soon enough.” The way he says it sends chills up my spine. So eerily dark, laced with poison. “What’s your name?” I ask. “Why do you want to know?” “Because I’d like to know who keeps me captive here. Who comes into my room every single time and makes me remember that I’m a prisoner to the sickest men on earth.” He raises an eyebrow only slightly. “You want to know who takes care of you in here …” he muses, to prove his own point. Pathetic. “No,” I say, holding my fork tight. “I want to know so I remember the name of the man I’m going to kill first.” His eyes widen, and his lips part, but no sound comes out. Ha, gotya, motherfucker. It’s not a lie. I am going to kill him someday. I don’t care how, but I will, with whatever means necessary. And then I’ll murder the rest of them. After a stare down of almost a minute, I continue eating. “My name is Sam Bailey,” he says. “And when I’m done with you, I’ll be the only guy on this planet you won’t be able to kill.”




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Scorch (Delirious #3)
Adult Contemporary Dark Erotica
Expected Publication: 3 March 2015

Sweet revenge keeps her alive … and drives her to kill.

I am the forgotten one, the girl who was left for dead.

In this mental hospital I call prison I plot my revenge.

I remember everything.

Their faces. Their touch. Even their smell.

What they did to me was beyond cruel. I’m going to return the favor.

In here I survive by using someone just as they used me. One of them wants to claim me as his own. A man without mercy, without a conscience, craving the wickedness inside me. But I won’t be a puppet for his desires. I will play his strings like a puppeteer and use him to escape.

And when I do … I will kill them all.


This is Ashley's story and the final book in the Delirious Series. This is a full-length novel. These books should be read in order.

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Check out the rest of the Delirious Series on Goodreads HERE.





20 February, 2015

Book Blast Blitz: Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True #2) by Rebecca Heflin





About the Author:

Rebecca Heflin is an award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction since she was fifteen and her older sister snuck a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss' Shanna to her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women's fiction and contemporary romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy with her day-job as a practicing attorney.

Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.

Awards:
2014 Florida Writers Association Royal Palm Literary Award Winner (Dreams of Perfection)
2013 Florida Writers Association Royal Palm Literary Award Winner (Rescuing Lacey)
2013 Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence Winner (Rescuing Lacey)
2013 Virginia Romance Writers Holt Medallion Award of Merit (Rescuing Lacey)
2013 Georgia Romance Writers Published Maggie Finalist (Rescuing Lacey)
2013 Shooting Star Award (Rescuing Lacey)
2013 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Finalist (Rescuing Lacey)
2013 Wisconsin Romance Writers Write Touch Readers' Awards Finalist (The Promise of Change)
2011 Royal Palm Literary Awards Finalist (The Promise of Change)

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Excerpt from Ship of Dreams:

Laura Armstrong strode toward the building housing the New York offices of Imperial Cruise Lines. Her stiletto heels clicked a staccato on the sidewalk as she tested the limits of her snug pencil skirt.

Tapping out a message on her smart phone, her mind five steps ahead, she nearly took a header when the heel of her shoe plunged into a sidewalk seam. The text message all but forgotten, she twisted and turned, unable to dislodge the stubborn heel.

Risking a tear in the cherry red patent leather of her sky-high Louboutin ankle-straps – the ones with the plunging vamp revealing her sexy toe cleavage – wasn't an option. But between the ankle strap and her figure-hugging skirt, she couldn't slip out of the shoe, nor could bend over and unfasten it either.

Perfect. She'd be late for her meeting with Imperial's CEO.

Daddy Dearest thought Giddings-Rose couldn't handle an account the size of Imperial. Check that. He thought she couldn't win an account the size of Imperial.

Determined to prove her father wrong, she'd get the account and the corner office. That is if she could pry her heel out of the sidewalk.

Bustling New Yorkers in suits and skirts just stepped around her, dodging her like an out-of-place trashcan. “Well, sh–”

“Hold still, Sugar, or you'll break the heel.” The masculine voice called to mind the mellow sweetness of the fine Kentucky Bourbon she'd once sipped at the Derby. Rich and mellifluous, with a hint of Southern graciousness. Even so, there was no denying the authoritative tone. “And that would be a damn shame.” The hand that wrapped around her ankle from behind was broad and masculine, but well-manicured, topped with an elegant Cartier watch.

Not her type. She preferred her men with a little more grit than polish. So why did tantalizing warmth spread up her leg?

With adept fingers, he unbuckled the ankle strap and lifted her foot from the still-lodged shoe. Having no other choice to avoid either resting her bare foot on the filthy Manhattan sidewalk or the humiliation of falling on her face, she reached back and grabbed his shoulder. Hmm. No padding there. Nothing but muscle beneath that expensive tropical weight wool suit. She caught a glimpse of charcoal gray fabric, dark hair, and Italian shoes in rich mahogany leather.

But she'd yet to lay eyes on her rescuer's face.

Nathan Maxwell took advantage of the up-close and personal view. Trim ankles met shapely, muscular calves, and judging from the fit of her skirt, a firm derriere topped off those swimsuit-model legs. Beneath his touch, soft skin beckoned further exploration. Long honey-blond hair hung almost to her waist in a sleek ponytail. The fragrance of her haute couture perfume drifted over him, reminding him of magnolia-scented summer nights.

Focusing on the task at hand, he gently pried the heel from the sidewalk seam and examined it. “No harm done.” He grasped her ankle and settled her foot back into the shoe and fastened the strap, but not before noticing the firecracker red nail polish. He laughed. “Here you go Cinderella.”

The warmth of his laugh slid over her, knocking her a little off balance even though she'd placed her foot firmly back on the ground. “Thank you, uh . . .” She turned and looked up into golden brown eyes the color of that same sweet Kentucky Bourbon.

“Nathan, Nathan Maxwell. My pleasure, ma'am.” He flashed a devastating grin, igniting gilded sparks in his eyes.

There was that Southern drawl again – subtle, like the peach undertones of a fine Pinot Gris. “You're not from around here, are you?”

“My accent give me away?” Her sardonic smile weakened Nathan's knees more than any toothy grin ever did.

“No, your courtesy.”

Nathan chuckled. “My grandmother would have expected nothing less.” Her eyes, cool blue like the May sky overhead, captured his and held. No shrinking violet, this one, he mused. A full, determined mouth painted to match the red of her toenails set off an arresting face with high cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and aquiline nose.

“Well, thank you, Nathan.” Maybe she should add suave polished men with a hint of Rhett Butler to her menu, Laura thought. Her phone, all but forgotten in her hand, buzzed. “I, uh, I've got to go. Thanks again, Nathan Maxwell.” Something about the way his name rolled off her tongue. She answered the phone as she walked away, “This is Laura.”

Nathan watched as she strode down the sidewalk, hips swaying to some inherent rhythm. “Come on, Laura, glance back.” She turned and gave him what he wanted, another look at that bold, beautiful face.

“It's going to be a great day.” Glancing at his watch, satisfied with the outcome of the errand that brought him to this part of Manhattan in the first place, he hailed a cab back to his office.

*****

Giving herself a mental snap-out-of-it slap to shake the charming Rhett Butler from her thoughts and focus on the goal, Laura briefed Katie, the head of the Giddings-Rose research team, on her latest project.

“I'm going to need the demographics on Imperial Cruise Lines, and its three closest competitors, ASAP.”

“We're going after Imperial? What happened to Kendall-Monroe?”

“Fired. And use your street team to find out the inside scoop on Kendall-Monroe and Hawk Media. I'm on my way to meet with the CEO of Imperial now.”

“Damn, woman, you work fast.”

“Jackson Jefferies is a long-time friend of the family, so getting a sit down was easy. Convincing him to listen to someone besides my father is a different story.” Jackson Jeffries was the CEO of the cruise line, one of her father's closest friends . . . and one of her father's best customers. Her family's shipbuilding business built Imperial's liners, and Jackson relied heavily on her father's counsel.

While at her best friend's wedding over the weekend, Laura's father had received an email from Jackson saying they'd fired their advertising agency. Since her irksome father had already given a competitor agency a heads-up that Imperial was in the market, time was of the essence.

“If anyone can convince him, it's you. You could sell moonshine to a teetotaler.”

“Thanks. I think. Anyway, wish me luck.”

“Good luck. And call me when you're done.”

Laura stashed her phone and entered the cool two-story lobby, walking directly to the security desk. After signing in, she took the elevators to the top floor for one of the most important meetings of her career.

A full-service advertising agency, Giddings-Rose had made a name for itself creating ad campaigns for traditional Fortune 500 companies, including insurance companies, department stores, banks, airlines, and manufacturers. But Laura's goal was to drag Giddings-Rose kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century, with accounts who wanted rich media campaigns, digital brand development, interactive marketing and communications strategy, and pay-per-click campaign management. The future of advertising.

When she'd first approached Curt, the agency's VP of Business Development, about Imperial and its needs he'd been skeptical, but the agency couldn't count a cruise line among its accounts, and having one would look good in its portfolio. And on his resume.

“What do you want, Laura?” Curt had asked.

She'd used her tough-minded skills on him. “I want your job, but I bring you Imperial, I'll take the VP of Client Management that's coming open.”

“You bring me Imperial, and we'll talk about it.”

“No.” She approached his desk. “I've reeled in some big fish for this agency. It's time I reaped the rewards of all that hard work. Dammit, Curt, you know I deserve it.”

Curt had held her gaze. “I know. Look, I'll go to bat for you, but I can't promise anything.”

“That's all I'm asking. Thanks, Curt.”

The elevator doors opened on the lobby of Imperial Cruise Lines bringing Laura back to the present. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the polished marble floor with all the determination of a gladiator stepping into the Roman Colosseum. “Showtime.”

*****

Nathan sat down at his desk, as his assistant followed him in with phone messages and meeting requests. He'd only been at Hawk Media a week and already had a full schedule.

“Mr. McCutcheon would like to see you when you get a moment, and I need you to sign these forms for your corporate credit card.” Cassie placed the stack of messages on the desk and handed him the forms.

“Thanks, Cassie. This credit card can't come soon enough. I need you to book a trip for me. Here's all the information.” Nathan handed her a brochure with the ship circled. He didn't care what itinerary, as long as he got on that ship. He'd already completed the company's travel profile so Cassie would know his preferences. “And I need it booked first thing.”

Cassie took the brochure, lifting a brow. “Is this business or pleasure?”

“Oh, this is business, but who says they're mutually exclusive?” He gave her a wink as he rounded his desk.

The corridors of Hawk Media were hushed, the plush carpeting lending a soft touch to the otherwise glass and brushed chrome ultra-modern office space. The account executives whose offices lined the halls were hard at work, studying spreadsheets, talking on phones, tapping out emails, or meeting with members of their teams. A group stood in front of an oversized digital white board in what served as the agency's idea space, throwing suggestions up on the board. The nimble mid-size company had only been around a little over ten years, but they were making a splash in the ad biz, especially after they'd snatched the Kensington hotel chain right out from under Concept Advertising.

They'd done the same thing with him.

Hawk Media had wooed his biggest account away from him, but while the CEO preferred the New York-based agency's philosophy, he'd told Hawk that Nathan was part of the package. So after almost ten years with the same boutique agency in Atlanta, first as an account coordinator, before working his way up to senior account executive, Hawk had come calling. And Nathan had listened. In the immortal words of Don Corleone, “they'd made him an offer he couldn't refuse.”

Though it broke his heart to leave behind his Buckhead home and the proximity to his sister, the siren song of the Big Apple couldn't be ignored, and the position, Vice President of Business Development, the salary, and the bonuses were too good to pass up. Especially now when he needed the money.

He'd make a name for himself in the big city. Not bad for a boy from the hills of North Georgia who'd once been told he'd never be more than a whore's bastard.

First order of business – get the Imperial Cruise Lines account.

“You needed to see me?”

Hawk looked up from his sleek computer, “Yes. Have a seat.”

At only forty-six, Hawk McCutcheon was on a high-speed trajectory to success. His blond locks lent him a devil-may-care surfer look, but those who judged the book by its cover did so at their own peril. A former All-American quarterback, he played by the rules, but that didn't mean he didn't play a tough game. And while he had an easy smile and a generous nature, he expected one-hundred-ten-percent from his employees.

Family photos ranged the credenza behind his immaculate Lucite desk, including one of him and his father, U.S. Senator Mitchell McCutheon, at the President's inauguration ball. Star-studded lifestyle notwithstanding, according to his employees, Hawk was a tried and true family man.

“Where are we on Imperial Cruise Lines?” Hawk eyed him over a pair of reading glasses.

“Cassie's booking my trip as we speak – on the Nave dei Sogni – the first availability. Research team is pulling demographics, financials, and current marketing collateral, and the same information on Imperial's three closest competitors. Word on the street is Imperial is looking to lower its age demographic, attract younger, more dynamic clientele, with lots of sports and entertainment dollars to spend. And they're building a smaller liner with an eye toward uncompromising quality and an even higher staff-to-guest ratio to do it.

“We already have the data on the spending habits of this demographic,” Nathan continued, “we just need to do some number crunching. Imperial is looking for interactive marketing services for the digital space. They fired Kendall-Monroe because the agency's ideas were ... 'antediluvian,' to use the Junior Jeffries' term.”

“Well, we'll deliver fresh, innovative ideas that will blow any competition out of the water. Pun intended,” Hawk finished with a grin. His expression grew determined as he tapped the desk with his finger, “I want this account and you're just the man to get it for me.”

*****

Jackson's assistant escorted Laura into a modest-sized, but well-appointed office. Behind the mahogany desk sat a man, that although her father's contemporary, looked years younger. His thick pewter and silver hair, tanned, clean-shaven face, and ready smile gave Jackson Jeffries the appearance of a well-aged movie star.

He rose as she approached his desk, his gray eyes alight with approval as he appraised her.

“Little Laura Armstrong has grown into a beautiful, poised young lady. How did that happen?

Last I saw you you were headed off to college.”

She smiled at the compliment. “That was a decade ago.”

“Has it been that long?” He indicated a group of chairs around a beautifully-restored leather steamer trunk that served as a coffee table. Models of Imperial's ships, old and new, ranged the office on their own wood pedestals, down-lighting illuminating every detail. Photos of dignitaries from around the world covered the walls.

It was a comfortable office. A well-lived-in office. Not the showplace she'd expected from the CEO of one of the world's most prestigious ultra-luxury cruise lines. But then again, she had memories of Jackson as a kind, unassuming man. One who actually loved his wife and children and didn't put the importance of the bottom line ahead of his family.

“And now you're with an advertising agency, and you'd like to talk to me about Imperial's business.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

“Yes.” Despite his humble demeanor, he always could cut to the chase.

“All right. I'm game. Tell me about your agency.”

Before she could start her pitch, the office door opened and a tall, good looking younger version of Jackson entered the room. Same thick hair, but light brown with hints of pre-mature gray at the temples, same gray eyes, same ready smile. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

She remembered Jackson Junior, or Jack, from dinners at the Country Club, golf outings, parties at her parents' house, and high school. She'd tried her sixteen-year-old girl's wiles on him. Four years older, he hadn't been impressed, having eyes only for Miss New York and his girlfriend at the time, Stephanie Smallwood. They'd married after college, only to get divorced five years later.

“Jack, you remember Milt's daughter, Laura.”

“Yes.” His eyes lit up. “Of course.”

Laura was about to tell me a little about her agency–”

“Giddings-Rose,” she supplied.

“Giddings-Rose?” Jack interjected. “Laura, I should tell you, we aren’t looking for a traditional Madison Avenue agency. We already fired Kendall-Moore. We want to move into the digital age, freshen our brand and broaden our consumer base, with a focus on a younger demographic.”

“You're speaking my language.” Laura said with a grin.

Jackson beamed at his son. “Jack is our Vice President of Customer Relations and he's been pushing for Imperial to enter the age of social media.” He chuckled. “What I know about social media could fit in a thimble.”

Laura jumped in with both feet. “Imperial has catered to the older wealthy client, but with that clientele dying off, the line needs to refocus its brand on a younger demographic, people my age, with copious discretionary income.”

Jackson Senior and Junior eyed one another.

Jackson spoke first, “We had that in mind when we designed the newest ship–”

“The Nave dei Sogni,” Laura interjected.

“That's right,” Jackson said, “and its itineraries, shore excursions and onboard activities, but we haven't been able to reach that client. Now we're building a new, smaller four-hundred-fifty passenger liner – the ultimate boutique ship–”

Jack spoke up, “Which will offer unstructured cruises that give passengers the feel that they are truly on a personal yacht. This won't be your grandparent's cruise. Most passengers on the Sogni have been our usual clientele, perplexed by the offerings. The only people your age we get on the ship are there because it's their parents’ or grandparents’ anniversary or birthday.”

“Forget what you think you know about Giddings-Rose,” Laura started. “We have the finest creative team in the business, with two Webbys, five Addys, and one Mosaic, and fifty years of experience combined, the media buying power of the large agency we are, but with the digital savvy of an interactive agency. We give you the best of both worlds. Strategic planning, web design and development, search engine marketing, digital lead generation, digital brand development, rich media campaigns, interactive marketing and communications strategy, data mining and ROI assessment.” She took a breath.

“You don't have a cruise line in your client roster,” Jack pointed out.

“No, we don't, but we do have an international airline and a five-star hotel chain on our books, plus one of the world's top travel companies, so we have experience in the high-end travel and hospitality industry.”

Jackson glanced at his son, nodded. “Okay. We'll give Giddings-Rose a shot.”

“But your initial research and creative is on spec,” Jack added. “We'll expect your pitch the end of July, but we'll have a pre-pitch meeting with both agencies before that. We'll be in touch to set that up.”

Laura stuck her hand out to Jackson. “Thank you.”

“It's a pleasure to see you again,” Jackson covered their clasped hands with his other hand.

“You truly have grown into a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, Jackson.”

“I'll walk you out.” Jack guided Laura through the door. “How did we not know you worked for an ad agency?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Have you met my father?”

Jack laughed. “Right. Then how did you find out we were looking?”

“My father blurted it out, forgetting his daughter was in the business.” If he even knew in the first place.

“Maybe that's a good thing. A little competition never hurt anyone, and Imperial can only benefit.”

They'd arrived at the elevators. “My father was right,” Jack said, his face earnest. “About what?” Laura turned to face him.

“That you've grown into a beautiful woman.”

Alrighty then. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Jack, but I think I'm the one who should be sucking up to you.”

“Then you can start sucking up by having dinner with me.”

She tilted her head as the elevator dinged. “Perhaps.” She stepped into the elevator and turned around. Just before the doors closed, she said, “Call me.”



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Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True #2)
Adult Contemporary Romance
Published: February 2015 by Soul Mate Publishing LLC

Advertising Diva, Laura Armstrong is after Imperial Cruise Lines, the biggest account of her career and the one that will lead to the next step in her Life Plan of becoming one of the most powerful women in advertising. That winning the account will also prove her father wrong is a bonus.

Sexy Southern Gentleman, Nathan Maxwell, is after that very same account, but for completely different reasons. Landing the account means a sizeable bonus just in time to save his family’s farm, and the only stable home his sister’s ever known, from foreclosure.

When the two end up on the same ship in the middle of the Mediterranean for a clandestine reconnaissance mission, Mt. Vesuvius isn’t the only thing that could erupt.

Will Nathan sink her ship of dreams before it ever leaves port, or will the way to love be smooth sailing?

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Check out the first book in the Dreams Come True Series, Dreams of Perfection, on Goodreads HERE.





Ship of Dreams Book Blast Blitz Arranged by Good Choice Reading Promotions.


19 February, 2015

Cover Reveal: Castle of Sighs (Forest of Whispers #2) by Jennifer Murgia (@JenniferMurgia @covercontessa @SpencerHillP)



About the Author:

Jennifer Murgia has long loved the dark and speculative -- and it's from these dark places that she weaves fantastical stories, often hoping to find truth in them. Her Young Adult novels include the Historical Fantasy FOREST OF WHISPERS (9/9/14 -- Spencer Hill Press), BETWEEN THESE LINES, ANGEL STAR, LEMNISCATE & THE BLISS. She is the co-founder and coordinator of YA FEST and currently resides in Pennsylvania and Marketing Director for Leap Books, LLC.

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Castle of Sighs (Forest of Whispers #2) by Jennifer Murgia
Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy
Expected Publication: 15 September 2015 by Spencer Hill Press


Some secrets cannot be kept—in life or in death.

Months have passed since Rune has heard a single whisper from her long-dead mother, the great witch of Bavaria. But the absence of one evil has only made room for another.

After rightfully inheriting her ancestral home, Pyrmont Castle, Rune settles into a quiet life taking care of two orphans left in the wake of the terrible witch hunt that claimed dozens of lives in the nearby village. As the days grow colder, the castle’s secrets beckon and Rune finds herself roaming where no one has set foot in a long time. In the bowels of the fortress is a locked room full of memories that hang like cobwebs—shelves stacked with jars, strange specimens, putrid liquids, and scrolls of spells. Rune is undeniably drawn to what she finds there, and she begins to dabble in the possibilities of magic, hoping to find a cure for the strangeness overwhelming the castle.

As secrets unspool, the delicate thread of Rune’s world is threatened when she realizes the key may lie in the dark forest she once called home and the boy she thought she knew.

Goodreads


Check out the first book in the series, Forest of Whispers, on Goodreads HERE.





16 February, 2015

Release Day Blitz: Becoming the Whiskey Princess (Taking Risks #2) by Toni Aleo


About the Author:

Toni Aleo is the author of the Nasvhille Assassins series: Taking Shots, Trying to Score, Empty Net, Falling for the Backup, and Blue Lines.

When not rooting for her beloved Nashville Predators, she’s probably going to her husband’s and son’s hockey games and her daughter’s dance competitions, taking pictures, scrapbooking, or reading the latest romance novel.

She lives in the Nashville area with her husband, two children, and a bulldog.

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Becoming the Whiskey Princess
Adult Contemporary Romance
Published: 16 February 2015

For better or worse, for richer or poorer, ‘til almost death do they part…

Amberlyn Reilly took a risk and found a new life in Ireland. She did something drastic and jumped in front of a loaded gun for the one she knew she couldn’t lose. And with her mother’s last request, she did more than fall in love. She fell into Declan O’Callaghan—with her eyes wide open and her damaged heart and soul leading the way.

When Irish-born Declan O’Callaghan spotted Amberlyn across the lake, he knew his life was about to change. And it did. Now he has everything he’s ever dreamed of —he’s marrying for love, and with that love, the family distillery will now be his as long as he marries before the deadline.

Things are moving fast. It’s now or never. And as their beautiful relationship grows, time is something these two don’t have a lot of. Declan’s and Amberlyn’s souls are tightly tethered, but will the questions and second thoughts of others prevent them from having a life they’ve both only begun to dream of? Will family and the obligations that come with the O’Callaghan name push them to their breaking point? Or has the Whiskey Prince truly found his happily ever after taking Amberlyn as his Princess?

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Check out the first book in the Taking Risks Series, Whiskey Prince, on Goodreads HERE.



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Becoming the Whiskey Princess Release Day Blitz Arranged by GCR Promotions.


12 February, 2015

Cover Reveal: Gravity Series by Sarina Bowen

sarina kitchenAbout the Author:

Sarina Bowen makes her home in the Green Mountains of Vermont, where she lives with her family, eight chickens and a large pile of skis and hockey equipment. She is a graduate of Yale University.

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Excerpt from Falling From The Sky:

“Hi,” Callie said softly. “I’m Doctor Anders. Or Callie, if you wish.”

“Callie,” he cleared his throat. “You look really familiar.”

That wasn’t what she had expected him to say. It would have been as good a time as any to mention that they’d met about ten minutes before his accident, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Who would want to be reminded of that afternoon? “I’ve been here all week,” she said instead. “But we don’t expect you to keep track of the dozens of people who prod you all day.”

“And all night,” he added.

She sat down on a stool next to his bed. “That’s my fault. I need to know that they’re looking at your vitals every three hours. It helps me sleep.” She winked, and was rewarded with half a smile. “Now, quick—before the room is invaded again by nurses’ assistants—how’s your pain? Is there anything you need?”

Hank lifted one hand to his face, and Callie was glad to see it. If his injury had happened farther up his spine, he wouldn’t have been able to do that. With his palm, Hank rubbed several days’ worth of whiskers, which only served to make him look more rugged, while he considered her question. “Let’s see…I need a full rack of Curtis’ ribs, with spicy sauce and a baked potato. And I need to get the hell out of this hospital.”

She nodded obligingly, even though she couldn’t fulfill any of those requests. But if he was talking about food and getting out of here, those were both good signs. “You’ll be transferring to a rehab facility soon.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. His gaze wandered again, his eyes aiming at the window.

“The rehab place will let you sleep through the night,” she said, keeping her voice light. “And you’ll have your own clothes. I hear the food is better, too.”

“Couldn’t really be worse,” he said, turning to face Callie again. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and Callie felt the moment stretch and take hold. He didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t have to. Silently, an understanding passed between them. It didn’t matter if the food got better. Hank Lazarus was in for a shitty time, truly the shittiest time of his life. The distance he’d come these past five days was a descent from the highest high to the lowest low. And there wasn’t a damned thing either of them could do about it.

“Hang in there,” Callie whispered. “This right here is the very worst part.”

He didn’t break their staring contest. “You promise?” he rumbled, his voice pure whiskey and smoke.



Falling From The Sky
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Published: 2 February 2015 by Rennie Road Books


She's the woman he doesn't remember. He's the man she can't forget.

Bad boy Hank “Hazardous” Lazarus used to have everything: a gorgeous girlfriend, a career as a freestyle snowboarder and a spot on the US Olympic team. Nine months ago, after a bad crash in the half pipe, he woke up in the hospital, unable to move his legs. Now he’s landed there again, but gravity is not the culprit. With his family pressuring him to try a groundbreaking treatment, Hank self-medicates with too much tequila instead.

Doctor Callie Anders has the courage to restart a patient’s heart with a thousand volts of electricity, yet she’s afraid to risk her own. So she doesn’t confess to the clinic’s newest patient that they met just before the accident, an encounter that he doesn’t remember. Even as their friendship develops, she won’t admit she regrets turning down his dinner invitation, or that her heart stutters every time those inked shoulders roll through the door of the therapy department.

With another Vermont winter coming again, Hank needs a hand out from under the avalanche of his disappointments. If only Callie were brave enough to take the job.

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"One of the highlights of my 2014 reading year." —Jane Litte at DearAuthor.com

"4.5 stars. Hank and Callie are an inspiration to love stories everywhere. HOT." — RT (Romantic Times) Book Reviews

"What a book! I’m always looking for different, inspiring, more in my books and Sarina Bowen delivers every time." — The Bookish Babe

"Sexy and heartwarming, Falling From the Sky is a story of redemption, trust and falling in love." — Mandi Schreiner of SmexyBooks


Check out the rest of the Gravity Series on Goodreads HERE.

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06 February, 2015

Blog Tour - Book Excerpt: The Unexpected Consequences of Love by Jill Mansell


About the Author:

With over 9 million copies sold, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Mansell writes irresistible and funny romantic tales for women in the tradition of Marian Keyes and Sophie Kinsella. She worked for many years at the Burden Neurological Hospital, Bristol, and now writes full time. She lives with her partner and their children in Bristol, England.

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Excerpt from The Unexpected Consequences of Love:

“Nearly done… Oh, it’s you.” Turning, she glimpsed him in the doorway and straightened up. Nodding at Griff, she said, “Have you come to get him? He’s shattered now. I’ve just finished the shoot.”

“I know, I saw the family driving off. And I am sorry. Dot did warn me about the door-opening thing,” Josh admitted. “I just forgot about it. Can I blame it on the jet lag?”

She gave him a look. “Only if you’re a complete wuss. You’ve had a whole week to get over it.”

Her eyes were bright and sparkling, silver-gray with very white whites. Her well-defined eyebrows were dark but tipped with gold and there was a smudge of mud on her left temple.

It wasn’t an expression he’d ever thought of using before, but it occurred to him that she had joie de vivre.

“True.” He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “All my own fault. So how did it go in the end?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you.” Leading the way across the room, she picked up her camera and began scrolling through the shots, starting with the half dozen or so pre-Griff originals, then on through the second stage of the shoot.

“These are great.” Josh nodded at them, genuinely impressed. “So it ended up not being such a disaster after all.”

“Thanks to me being a complete genius,” she agreed happily. He liked her attitude. “What’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“Hi, Sophie. I’m Josh.”

“I know. Haven’t you noticed everyone whispering about you since you’ve been back?”

“Not really. Well, maybe a bit. You don’t take much notice after a while.” He paused. “Do you have a business card?”

She took one from an envelope in the side pocket of her black canvas camera case and handed it over.

Sophie Wells Photography. Portraits, Weddings, Commercial was written in silver on a black background, along with her contact details. Josh noticed that as well as the bracelets on her left wrist there was a key attached to a plain silver bangle. He reached out and touched it briefly. “What’s this for?”

“It’s the key to my secret Swiss bank account.” “Amazing. I didn’t know Swiss banks used Yale locks.”

A dimple appeared in her left cheek. “I started wearing it after I locked myself out of my flat three times in one week.”

“Look,” said Josh. “I still feel terrible about the photos.” “No need. I told Emma I’d do them for free.”

“But that means you’re losing out. Which is even worse.” Sophie shook her head. “They all like what we ended up doing instead. Emma’s still happy to pay.” “But their clothes…”

“They live on a farm. She says the mud’ll come out in a boil wash.” “But when I came back here with Griff, she was in tears.”

“I know, but you weren’t actually to blame for that. Relax,” Sophie said cheerfully. “It’s your lucky day. You’re off the hook.”

Women, he’d never understand them. Still, it was a positive result. Somewhat distracted by her eyelashes—were they also gold- tipped beneath the mascara?—Josh said, “Fine then. So long as you’re sure. Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can try.”

He was charmed by her easy smile, playful humor, and feisty can-do attitude. Okay, and her body was pretty amazing too. “Are you single at the moment? Or seeing someone?”

If she were, he would have to say with good-natured regret, “Well, that’s a real shame,” and leave it at that.

“Me? Oh no, I’m not seeing anyone.” Sophie shook her head. “Completely and utterly single, that’s me.”

Excellent. Enjoying her honesty, Josh said, “So would you like to come out for dinner with me one evening?”

“It would have to be an evening.” Sophie nodded gravely. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be dinner; it’d be breakfast or lunch.”

“Definitely evening,” he agreed. “We could do it tonight if you like.” This is going so well.

“Oh, I can’t.”

“Yes, bit short notice. Friday, then? Or Saturday? You choose, whenever suits you best.”

But even as he was saying it, Sophie was shaking her head. “Sorry, no… I mean, thanks for asking, but I can’t meet you for dinner.”

“Right.” Taken aback, Josh said, “Not at all?” “No.”

“Okay. That’s fine.” It wasn’t remotely fine. What was going on? Did she have a small baby at home, or an elderly relative who couldn’t be left unattended? “Am I allowed to ask why?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh dear, are you offended?” “Of course not,” lied Josh.

Sophie gave him a who-are-you-kidding look. “I think you are. Don’t be. I’m just pretty busy right now.”

“So maybe in a couple weeks?” He couldn’t quite believe he was still asking.

“Look, thanks again, but no thanks. I just don’t really want to go out to dinner with…anyone.”

Aaaand another knock-back.

“No problem.” Josh wished he’d never started it. “Sorry.”

He managed a rueful smile. “Hey, all I need is a few months for my ego to recover. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not you.” Sophie’s mouth was twitching. “It’s me.”

Okay, now she was making fun of him.

“Well, obviously,” said Josh.



The Unexpected Consequences of Love
Adult Contemporary Romance
Published: 3 February 2015 by Sourcebooks Landmark

Sophie has no interest in finding love. But what happens when love finds her?

Sophie Wells is a successful photographer with a focus on putting the past firmly behind her. When Josh Strachan returns to the seaside town of Cornwall from the States to run his family’s hotel, he can't understand why the fun, sexy girl has zero interest in letting him—or any man for that matter—into her life. He also can't understand how he's been duped into employing Sophie's impulsive friend Tula, whose crush on him is decidedly unrequited. Both girls remain mum about the reasons behind Sophie’s indifference to love. But that doesn’t mean Josh is going to quit trying…

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