tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56000415335797185142024-03-13T21:07:35.536+02:00Once Upon A Dream ...Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.comBlogger1440125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-73986324063095251282019-05-15T17:43:00.000+03:002019-05-15T17:45:50.204+03:00Reminiscing...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script> <a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="13400935" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=13400935" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/13400935" target="_blank"><img src="https://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=13400935"></a>Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-31421568355960864662018-05-16T17:51:00.000+03:002018-05-16T18:29:27.575+03:00Mikky's Review: Evolved by N.R. Walker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39680421-evolved"><img border="0" data-original-height="60" data-original-width="280" height="42" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNzdMXxBsmkpX1K7ZoUMIKaUz4UBEMc5cz0XUx1ugb46b-6vI6zTViMqCpwyTa4XawBuOti4yqy2uPZqv59n4gNvIZQlduZ6ydaWTQ-ZXmHO3Pg1hj0k90YUCWNc5N6H3wKhUGZYGG2kx/s200/thumbnail_logo-a0e66b2e27d2b52773b0ddab4e10ea4a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>In 2068, androids are an integrated part of human life. Big Brother no longer just watches from the shadows. It’s in every household.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lloyd Salter has OCD issues with noise, mess, and he’s uncomfortable with human interaction. When his ex claimed the only thing perfect enough to live up to his standards was an android, Lloyd dismissed it. But two years later, after much self-assessment, Lloyd thinks he may have been right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">SATinc is the largest manufacturer of androids in Australia, including the Fully Compatible Units known as an A-Class 10. Their latest design is the Synthetic Human Android UNit, otherwise known as SHAUN.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shaun is compatible with Lloyd’s every need; the perfect fit on an intellectual and physical basis. But Lloyd soon realises Shaun’s not like other A-Class androids. He learns. He adapts. Sure that SATinc is aware Shaun functions outside of his programmed parameters, Lloyd must find a way to keep Shaun safe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No one can know how special Shaun is. No one can know he’s evolved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com.au/Evolved-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW">Amazon AU</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Evolved-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW">Amazon CA</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evolved-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW">Amazon UK</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.it/Evolved-English-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW">Amazon IT</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evolved-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW/">Amazon US</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.de/Evolved-English-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW">Amazon DE</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.fr/Evolved-English-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B07CKJRFHW">Amazon FR</a></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;"><i><b>N.R. Walker.</b></i></span></span></div>
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I don’t know what I could say about this author and her books that hasn’t been said before. She’s <b><i>THAT</i></b> good.</div>
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When I first started reading MM, I stumbled upon <b><i><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0796WGKL7/ref=series_rw_dp_sw">Elements of Retrofit (Thomas Elkin #1) </a></span></i></b>and I adored Cooper, his loyalty, his passion, dedication and ethics and I fell in love with Thomas’ gentle nature and his awkward stumbling through a new path in his life and a new and totally different relationship.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00XM07F0I/ref=series_rw_dp_sw">Carter & Isaac (Blind Faith)</a></span></i></b>.</div>
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Isaac broke my heart and it was so easy to connect with him and understand his pain, his desire to have his sight back and be able to see and be “normal” just like everyone else. I cried so much while reading their story and had to take several breaks because I couldn’t handle it. I understood because I remembered when they told me I wouldn’t be able to walk anymore. I remember the pain of watching everyone around me getting on with their lives while I was stuck and dependent on others to do even the smallest thing. Years later I still cannot read without shedding tears for Isaac. </div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00XM0CAIA/ref=series_rw_dp_sw">Charlie & Travis (Red Dirt Heart).</a></span></i></b></div>
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I dare you to tell me you didn’t cry and wished their story will never end.<b><i> I dare you</i></b>!</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sixty-Five-Hours-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B012UQUQXC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1526455632&sr=1-1&keywords=n.r.+walker+sixty+five+hours"><br /></a></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sixty-Five-Hours-N-R-Walker-ebook/dp/B012UQUQXC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1526455632&sr=1-1&keywords=n.r.+walker+sixty+five+hours">Cameron & Lucas (Sixty Five Hours) </a></span></i></b></div>
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Phew!! These two are so damn hot. I don’t care if it’s just fan-fiction or whatever. This is one of N.R.’s best stories and so damn funny. You’ll laugh your head off from beginning to end.</div>
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And I could go on and on, and on because every single one of her books has a special place in my heart.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Which brings us to the latest release, <b><i><span style="color: red;">Evolved</span></i></b>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sci-fi novels, cyborgs or androids are not my thing. Never have been but she was so clever at taunting us with this novel that I HAD TO give it a try. <i><b>(You big tease!)</b></i></span></div>
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“<i>Oh, boy!</i>”</div>
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I don’t even know where to begin.</div>
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It’s the year 2068 and androids are a big part of day to day life. People use them for almost anything, from driving cars, cleaning the house, act as receptionists to offices and hotels, to having an android as companion.</div>
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This is how Lloyd Salter, a Professor of Philosophy at Melbourne University, ends up with Shaun, an A-Class synthetic android.</div>
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Lloyd has OCD and doesn’t like human interaction so he designs Shaun to be the perfect companion, someone who can live with all his quirks without complaining or making him feel like there’s something wrong with him.</div>
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But Shaun is different. He learns, he adapts and he evolves, which is something no one expected from an android. Not even an A-Class one.</div>
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Soon, Shaun and Lloyd find themselves in a tricky situation because SATinc, Shaun’s manufacturer, is likely to realize the truth and come for him, separating them just when they’re beginning a new life together.</div>
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Like any other N.R. Walker novel, this, too, was captivating from beginning to end but, the best part, at least for me, was Shaun.</div>
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Following his evolution made me pause and think about quite a few things.</div>
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Let’s start with technology. We’re so dependent on our devices and spend most of our time in front of a computer, tablet or glued to our phones that we fail to see what’s happening around us. </div>
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Shaun is an android so he knows everything there is to know about how technology works so he’s curious about his surroundings, about things that humans take for granted every day. Take books, for example. In the year 2068 everyone has stopped reading or buying paperbacks, but not Lloyd. He loves the feel of a book in his hands, the smell of it, he loves reading words written on paper and he explains this to Shaun, tries to make him understand why a simple act, such as holding a book, can bring such pleasure and comfort.</div>
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In exchange, Shaun helps Lloyd rediscover the joy of small and big pleasures like holding a new partner’s hand for the first time, the first tentative touches between new lovers, the thrill of getting to know someone and allowing them to show you the world through their eyes.</div>
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I think one of the most interesting parts of this book was reading about Shaun seeing himself for the first time, the reaction of someone who has no preconceptions. There are no standards of beauty as far as he’s concerned and his curiosity is genuine. There’s a lot of focus on emotions and feelings rather than physical aspect. And, just like any other of N.R.’s books, you won’t find any senseless drama. </div>
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Bottom line is, you have to read Evolved. </div>
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To be honest, I had no idea what to expect but I loved it, every single part of it and I wish it would have been longer. I wanted to see more of Shaun and Lloyd building a life together after all the struggle. </div>
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Evolved has been added to my “Favorites” list and I plan to read it again in a few days, which means I’ll probably add to this review. For now, I just wanted to share my initial thoughts. Looking forward to hear what the rest of you thought and to Mrs. Walker’s next novel.</div>
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Happy Reading!</div>
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Author also writes as <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14126521.A__Voyeur">A. Voyeur</a></div>
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N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.</div>
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She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who she gives them life with words.</div>
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She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love. She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.</div>
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She’s been writing ever since...</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/N.R.WalkerAuthor">Facebook</a> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003907957620">Facebook Group</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/NR_Walker">Twitter</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/N.R.-Walker/e/B008GO4WJ2">Amazon</a> <a href="https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/NR_Walker">Autograph</a> <a href="https://nrwalker.net/blog">Blog</a></span></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-52917252730837191892017-11-19T20:01:00.000+02:002017-11-19T20:04:11.527+02:00Life gets in the way...<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hi, guys! It's been a while. I've tried to keep the blog going but we all know what they say about best laid plans..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I just realized that almost one year has passed since my last post. So many things have happened. So many things have changed, but I'm finally getting back on track. One step at a time.</span></div>
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I won't sign up for blog tours anymore. I don't have the time for it nor am I in the right frame of mind to promote and review books on a schedule. My entire focus is on getting better and taking care of myself and my son. </div>
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I'll try to be more active and talk about the books I've read and loved. I found quite a few I'm dying to tell you about. </div>
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There are quite a few gems out there that many people don't know about and I've discovered a few "new to me" authors. I'll tell you all about them and their books soon. I hope.</div>
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When I started this blog I was so excited about finally being able to promote my favorite authors and books. Somewhere along the way, I've lost that enthusiasm. I never lost my love for books though, but sitting down to write a review seemed such an effort and I let myself believe that no one will care anyway. Depression is like that. </div>
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I am better now. I still have good and bad days but there's more light surrounding me, more hope. </div>
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I want to write again, for myself, because I always had stories to tell even when no one wanted to listen. </div>
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I don't know if I'll ever publish anything but writing makes me feel good and it's time to take back that part of myself. Like I said, one step at a time and this is a good beginning. </div>
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Sorry for the whine. I'll try not to bore you with my issues in the future. <b>LOL</b></div>
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Thank you for your patience and thank you to those who haven't given up on me even if I have been a horrible friend. Love you all!</div>
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Mikky 💗</div>
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Happy Reading!</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-55739727999731350842017-02-10T21:44:00.000+02:002017-02-10T21:44:27.321+02:00~~MM Romance Valentine's Giveaway~~<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://scontent.fotp1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/16683919_1370899812949482_2700594858723228018_n.jpg?oh=1ec93db8b5d9a825735021020e1a9955&oe=593E3D71" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://scontent.fotp1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/16683919_1370899812949482_2700594858723228018_n.jpg?oh=1ec93db8b5d9a825735021020e1a9955&oe=593E3D71" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>The M/M Romance Valentine’s Giveaway event has been organized by author Isobel Starling as a way of giving readers a little bit of free Valentine’s love in these days of uncertainty and turmoil and to find new readers for a group of super authors. </b></div>
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<b>On the event page readers can download 34 new stories -- Shorts, novelettes, and excerpts from established M/M authors and several new authors. We have a wonderfully diverse range of subgenres on offer – Contemporary, BDSM, Erotica, Fantasy, Historical, Comedy, and Paranormal.</b></div>
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<b>The giveaway page will be live on 10th February until the 15th of February, so if your want to get a head start on your Goodreads reading challenge, or just want some quick fun reads, why not download a few short stories and give a little love back by leaving reviews for the authors. </b></div>
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<b><a href="http://isobelstarling.wixsite.com/books/freelove"><span style="font-size: large;">http://isobelstarling.wixsite.com/books/freelove</span></a></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-80213587275867929762017-01-03T15:32:00.000+02:002017-01-03T15:41:19.424+02:00Review: The Next Competitor by Keira Andrews<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1479499850l/33009275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1479499850l/33009275.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/2h00FBW">Amazon </a></span></i></b></div>
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<b>If he risks his heart, can he keep his head in the game? </b></div>
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To win gold, figure skater Alex Grady must train harder than the competition morning, noon, and night. He’s obsessed with mastering another quadruple jump, and due to the lack of filter between his mouth and brain, doesn’t have a lot of friends. As for a boyfriend, forget it. So what if he’s still a virgin at twenty? The Olympics are only every four years—everything else can wait. Relationships are messy and complicated anyway, and he has zero room in his life for romance. </div>
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So it’s ridiculous when Alex finds himself checking out his boring new training mate Matt Savelli. Calm, collected “Captain Cardboard” is a nice guy, but even if Alex had time to date, Matt’s so not his type. Yet beneath Matt’s wholesome surface, there’s a dirty, sexy man who awakens a desire Alex has never experienced and can’t deny… </div>
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<i>Note: This gay romance from Keira Andrews features opposites attracting, new adult angst, sexual discovery, and of course a happy ending. </i></div>
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<i>This new version has been extensively rewritten, updated, and expanded into a new adult romance with explicit on-page sex.</i></div>
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<b><i>The Next Competitor</i></b> was a captivating story from beginning to end. Figure skating is such an elegant sport and it was interesting to see the dynamics behind every competition, the gruesome training that every skater has to endure just to stay in shape, not to mention the hours upon hours of training to make sure they learn to perfection every second of the programs. </div>
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We only see the end result, the beauty of the dance executed on the rink but there’s so much more than that going on behind the competition.<br />
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Alex and Matt are trying to find their way amid confusion, the intricacies and politics of the sports world and the grueling training sessions before each competition. Both of them are plagued by insecurities and having to hide all the time doesn't help assuage their fears.<br />
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Matt is the calm while Alex is the storm and, like every storm, there will be thunder and lightning. They clash a lot, mostly due to Alex's temper, yet they always find their way to each other when one of them needs comfort.<br />
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But wanting something and actually doing it are two different things. And we can't always have what we want.<br />
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Apart from wanting to repeatedly hit Alex upside the head, this novel was really good. I definitely recommend it.</div>
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He was just one of those characters who, somehow, managed to get on my nerves from the beginning and, everything he did after that, just served to assert my first impression.</div>
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Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a bad guy. I kind of understood the <i><b>why’s</b></i> later on. But I still wanted to knock some sense into him. The guy’s mood swings gave me a whiplash.</div>
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Keira’s books are always worth it. One of the things I’ve always appreciated about her is how much care she puts into every detail of each story and how seriously she takes her research. That’s always a good thing as far as I’m concerned. </div>
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I think this was the first book I’ve read where the characters are ice skaters and it wasn’t hokey. I want more.</div>
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Thank you, Ms. Andrews, for another heartwarming story.</div>
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If you enjoy reading steamy romances between two men who can’t live without each other, you’ve come to the right place.</div>
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After writing for years yet never really finding the right inspiration, Keira discovered her voice in gay romance, which has become a passion. She writes contemporary, historical, fantasy, and paranormal fiction and — although she loves delicious angst along the way — Keira firmly believes in happy endings. For as Oscar Wilde once said:</div>
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“The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means.”</div>
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<b><i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/keiraandrewsromance/">Facebook</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/keiraandrews">Twitter</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1366040.Keira_Andrews">Goodreads</a> <a href="http://www.keiraandrews.com/">Website</a> </i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-72278180118343796752017-01-01T20:19:00.000+02:002017-01-01T20:19:28.778+02:00~ Happy New Year! ~<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Happy New Year, everyone!</i></b> 2017 is finally here and I sincerely hope it will be better than 2016. Have you made any resolutions? If so, share them with us. </div>
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This year, I'm taking it day by day. 2016 has been painful and it has taken so much from me. Every single plan I made has been ruined so, it's time to make some changes.</div>
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I want to focus more on my writing and try to publish at least a novel. God knows I kept postponing it long enough. After seeing the ARe disaster unfold can't say I'm very motivated but it's one of my dreams so, I'll give it a try. That's the only long term plan I have. </div>
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I will also try to write more reviews. The other day, I was looking through my "Read" list on Goodreads and I realized that there are so many wonderful books I've read and failed to review. I'll try to rectify that mistake, which means that I'll have to re-read some of them just to make sure I remember all the facts. Not a bad deal since I'm not exactly the person who keeps up with every new release or reviews only on release day. There are a ton of novels out there that deserve attention and that readers seems to have forgotten about. </div>
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This being said, I wish you all peace, love, serenity, good health and may 2017 be exactly what you imagined it to be. </div>
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Happy Reading!</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-15211531546138647102016-12-08T19:28:00.001+02:002016-12-08T19:28:53.776+02:00Review & Giveaway! Saving Jason by K.C. Wells<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When David Merrow is given the task of finding a suitable soup kitchen so his company can improve their PR, he realizes he needs help. He turns to Jason Garton, the owner of the coffee house that David visits every morning. Funny how it took David so long to notice all the food and beverages Jason gives away to the homeless. Because until then, Jason had been almost invisible. </div>
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But the more David learns about him, the more intrigued he becomes. There’s something about the selfless, lonely older man that pulls David in, and what began as work becomes so much more.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://amzn.to/2fWrBD0">Amazon US</a> | <a href="http://amzn.to/2gCWdIV">Amazon UK</a></i></b></div>
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KC Wells has a way of writing that makes you feel like you’re a part of the story. It feels like you’re living everything right along with the characters, all the happiness, the tears, the success and the disappointments. It’s all there from beginning to end and it’s an incredible experience. For this, and many other reasons, I keep picking up every novel she puts out there. </div>
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Saving Jason is a story about self-discovery and acceptance, about learning how to make peace with the past in order to embrace the future. </div>
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Jason is going through the paces and doing his part in giving back and paying it forward, but he is not actually living. </div>
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Every day is the same and the guilt he’s carrying around is keeping him from trying to find what he’s always longed for. </div>
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David had never thought that a job will end up changing his life so unexpectedly. He’s never paid much attention when it comes to what is around him and meeting Jason is an eye opener. </div>
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Working together day by day brings this two men together, and Jason will learn that it’s okay to let go, to look forward to the future and allow someone in his life in his heart.</div>
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Sometimes, it just takes one moment to change a life. Stop and look around you. You’d be surprised at what you might discover.</div>
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If you’re looking for a short, soulful holiday story, Saving Jason is the perfect choice. I highly recommend it.</div>
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Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C. WELLS always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way. K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, when the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery waited in the wings—writing about men in love was even hotter…. </div>
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K.C. now writes full-time and is loving every minute of her new career. The laptop still has no idea of what hit it… it only knows that it wants a rest, please. And it now has to get used to the idea that where K.C goes, it goes. </div>
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And as for those men in love that she writes about? The list of stories just waiting to be written is getting longer… and longer…. </div>
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<b><i>K.C. loves to hear from readers. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>E-mail: k.c.wells@btinternet.com </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/KCWellsWorld">https://www.facebook.com/KCWellsWorld</a> </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/K_C_Wells">@K_C_Wells</a> </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Website: <a href="http://www.kcwellsworld.com/">http://www.kcwellsworld.com</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-77669402105690973812016-11-01T15:53:00.000+02:002016-11-01T16:18:46.354+02:00Release Day Review! Detective Fox & The Christmas Caper by Isobel Starling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every good Dick needs a sidekick…</div>
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Actor Tom Lewis’s world came crashing down when a honey trap and tabloid expose outed him and put pay to his flourishing career. The housewives favorite was most well-known for his role as ‘Detective Fox’ in the quaint British series 'Malmesbury Murders'. But after the media speculation about his sexuality, the show is in hiatus and Tom hasn’t worked six months.</div>
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Now things are getting serious, money running out and Tom needs a job desperately. So when his agent offers him a seasonal acting job, he reluctantly agrees… and takes on the role of Santa for a top London department store.</div>
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This decision changes Tom’s luck. When Tom overhears two unidentified store workers discussing a "job to get a little Christmas bonus”. He realizes the 'job' is of the illegal sort. Now, Tom could call the police, but then again, wouldn’t it be great for his flagging career if Detective Fox saved the day?</div>
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So Fox is on the case, and as every good Dick needs a sidekick, Tom decides a sexy young elf named Eli Mason will fit the role, in more ways than one.”</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M1889QP">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/1124865786?ean=2940153783772">B&N</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/id1166116268">iTunes</a> <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/672621">Smashwords</a> <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-detectivefoxandthechristmascaper-2157513-149.html">ARe</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32701846-detective-fox-and-the-christmas-caper?from_search=true">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh, God! Where do I start? This novella was all kinds of fun. </span></div>
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Beggars can’t be choosers and Tom has realized this after he was outed as gay and is facing unemployment. </div>
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He’s an actor and he loves it but, he has reached the point where he can’t allow his pride to win and refuse a well paid job just because it might make him look silly.</div>
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If this means playing Santa Claus for one of London’s top stores, so be it. He’s still not ready to give up being Detective Fox though and, when the opportunity presents itself for him to get into character on more time, he grabs it with both hands. </div>
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There’s a bonus, too. The detective’s sidekick is one hot elf who knows how to handle whatever is thrown his way and more. Things are about to get messy.</div>
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Add Isobel Starling and mix with humor, mystery, action, suspense and sprinkle of drama, and you’ll have an explosive story which will take you on a rollercoaster of emotions from beginning to end, and leave you breathless and asking for more. </div>
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Follow Eli and Tom’s story as they try to save the day, and navigate what is the beginning of a tentative relationship, all while playing Santa and his elf for hordes of over excited children and exhausted parents the week before Christmas. </div>
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I cannot wait to read the next book because this has got to be a series. Right, Ms. Starling? You cannot spring two smart, sexy and fun as hell men on me and leave it at a novella. It’s not fair. </div>
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Thank you for another awesome and entertaining read. You rock, as always!</div>
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Born in Germany, Isobel Starling spent most of her twenty-year professional career making art. She relocated to the UK and, faced with the dreaded artist’s creative block, Isobel started to write and found she loved it more than making art.</div>
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Isobel’s first novel “Fall Together” was a bestseller in the GLBT-Bisexual genre on the ‘All Romance e-books’ site. Her second novel “As You Wish”(Shatterproof Bond #1) is an Amazon bestseller, and its sequel “Illuminate the Shadows”(Shatterproof Bond #2) was awarded a bestseller star on All Romance too. She has just completed her eighth book and signed French and German, translation and publishing rights deals for the whole Shatterproof Bond series. </div>
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Please sign up to my newsletter at <a href="https://isobelstarling.wix.com/books"><i><b>https://isobelstarling.wix.com/books</b></i></a></div>
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<b><i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/isobelstarling">Facebook</a> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/https://twitter.com/isobel_starling">Twitter</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13506480.Isobel_Starling">Goodreads</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Isobel-Starling/e/B00U1MKE5I">Amazon</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-55956662233867488032016-10-24T18:36:00.000+03:002016-10-24T18:36:41.650+03:00A Writer's Journey.<div style="text-align: center;">
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A lost soul in a sea of words. A defeated creature who’s wings have repeatedly been thorn before I even tried to learn how to fly.</div>
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There was a time when words came to me so easily. I just had to find the time to write them down. Everything was an inspiration – a child’s smile, a flower blooming, a drop or rain, a ray of sunshine…</div>
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I had yet to learn what pain and heartache really meant.</div>
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I had yet to learn how easily trust can be broken.</div>
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I had yet to learn how to live when you feel that there’s no reason for it anymore.</div>
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And just like that, one day, the words were gone. I couldn’t hear anymore, there was nothing left to see.</div>
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Something was gone and I couldn’t find a way to bring it back. I was lost.</div>
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Sadness was all I had left.</div>
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He took everything the day he left and I had nothing but solitude and a broken, shattered heart.</div>
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But then I remembered. There was something else I loved.</div>
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Books!</div>
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I loved reading. I loved losing myself in someone else’s life even if it was for a few minutes.</div>
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And that’s what I did.</div>
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I lost myself in countless books. Countless stories. Countless lives.</div>
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Time went by and, slowly, the words started to return.</div>
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They weren’t bright and happy and full of hope anymore. They were sad, they spoke of heartbreak and loneliness and lessons leaned.</div>
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They spoke of a once naive girl who thought she could have it all but lost more than she could afford.</div>
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And I’ve read…</div>
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Now, I have my own stories to tell. The characters are not perfect and their lives are not all sunshine and roses but they fight for what they love and they still believe in Happily Ever After even if it doesn’t always happen to them.</div>
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This is me. The girl who writes.</div>
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Welcome to A Writer’s Journey.</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-37211014976505356202016-10-20T17:40:00.001+03:002016-10-20T17:40:31.282+03:00A New Beginning ...<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hi everyone,</span></div>
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Long time, no see. </div>
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Life kind of got in the way lately. But I am back now and some changes are on the way.</div>
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When I first started the blog all I wanted to do was promote the authors and the books I loved. I have done that at the best of my possibilities. At least I hope so, and I’m sorry if I disappointed anyone.</div>
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A lot has happened in the last two years. I’ve lost people I loved, I grieved, and the ugly monster that is depression has reared its ugly head once again. It wasn’t easy and it’ll never be but I’ve managed to defeated it time and time again. I’ll find my way out this time, too. But my fight with depression is a story for another day. </div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Mikky’s World Of Books</span></i></b> has met its purpose and it’s time to say goodbye. Now it’s the time for a fresh start.</div>
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For years, I’ve written stories that I kept to myself. Writing has always been my passion, my refuge and, at the same time, my coping mechanism through my darkest days. No matter what, I have always found a way to put my thoughts on paper. </div>
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Some of those thoughts and stories are private and no one will ever read them but, the rest, I think are worth sharing.</div>
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Since one of my biggest dreams has been to publish a book one day, <b><i><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Mikky’s World Of Books</span></i></b> blog will become <b><i><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Once Upon A Dream</span></i></b> as of today.</div>
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I don’t know what will happen in the future. I’ve learned that making long term plans is worthless so, I’m going to take it one day at a time.</div>
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I’ll still do occasional blog tours, as the mood strikes, and I’ll keep posting reviews because I’m not giving up reading. That will <b>never</b> happen. In the meanwhile, I’ll share snippets of what I’m writing, stories from my day to day life and whatever I think is worth sharing with you. </div>
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We’ll see how that works out.</div>
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From the bottom of my heart, <b><i><span style="color: #3d85c6;">thank you</span></i></b> to those who have supported and encouraged me from day one. Some of you are great friends and you’ll never know how much a simple “<i>Hello</i>” has meant to me at times. I’ll never be able to repay you.</div>
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I hope you’ll keep supporting me in this new journey as well. Here's to good friends and new beginnings! </div>
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With love and gratitude,</div>
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Mihaela.</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-54215983970097193172016-06-14T18:39:00.000+03:002016-06-14T22:42:12.349+03:00Coming Soon! Excerpt & Giveaway: Heavy Hitters, Caribbean Tales #1 by Taylor V. Donovan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">*Standalone Gay Romance Saga</span></div>
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His toughest opponent is himself.</div>
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World Boxing Champion Santino Malavé González has been fighting since he was a kid. Poverty, domestic violence, and emotional abuse were early contenders. Guilt and self-loathing were beaten into him at an impressionable age, and now machismo, an integral part of the Latino culture, rules his life. In the ring he’s undefeated. Outside the ropes life constantly hits him below the belt. It takes a sucker punch from his best friend to finally knock the denial out of him and force him to face his true nature like a real man.</div>
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A natural born entertainer, Luca Jenaro Betancur Ferrer has grown up serving God, performing, pursuing a career in music, and celebrating life among his tight-knit Catholic family under the scorching Puerto Rican sun. Singing the wrong note on stage is not a mistake the multi-platinum award-winning singer would ever allow. Falling in love with a man is not a transgression his devout family may ever accept. The ties that bind him are strong, but the pull toward his childhood best friend may just be enough to tear it all to shreds.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anger, mistakes, bigotry, and the need to conform put up a good fight throughout their life journeys. Their religious and chauvinistic society constantly challenges their pursuit of happiness, and only time will tell if their relationship will survive the battles, or if they’ll lose each other by technical knockout.<br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i><b><i>Releasing June 24, 2016 </i></b></i></b></span></div>
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“Take this.” Julito handed him the other bag. “It’s your boxing gear.”</div>
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“Why’s this here and not in the shed?”</div>
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“I’ve been bagging it up every night before going to bed and putting it back in the shed before leaving for work for the last couple of weeks. I told you to put on your shoes.”</div>
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Santi obeyed immediately. “Why’d do you do that?”</div>
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“I’m ready,” Omayra said from the door, sounding scared, sad, and excited in equal parts.</div>
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“We can’t leave without Ma,” Santi repeated. “He’s hitting her because—” He felt like he was choking on his own words. His father didn’t love him. His mom was sending him away because he’d told her he liked boys. She’d failed to stand up for him… hadn’t even tried to reassure him that she’d always want him regardless of who he was. It sucked. “Mami and Papi are disappointed in me,” he forced himself to say. “All this is happening because they think I’m gay.” </div>
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“He’s hitting Ma because he’s an abusive prick,” Omayra countered.</div>
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“I’ve got to show him I’m not gay,” Santi whispered. “This is my fault. I’ve got to do everything I can to make things right for Mami.”</div>
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“And you’ll start working on it as soon as we’re out.” Julito grabbed his keys and wallet from the milk crate that served as a bedside table and took a few towels from his bed. He looked around the room one more time before pushing Santi toward the door. “We’ve got to go.”</div>
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Only muffled noises could be heard in their parents’ bedroom when they ran out of the shack they’d called home for the past two years. That was a good sign. Papi had either passed out, or he’d calmed down.</div>
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They were soaking wet by the time they ran across the yard, got inside Julito’s old El Camino and locked the doors.</div>
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Julito pushed their bags behind the seat and started the truck. Omayra grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, then used the other two to cover Santi and Julito before settling between them on the truck’s bench seat. Santi stared at the small, dilapidated ranch through the windshield, the rain, and the darkness of night. None of them said a word as they sped away from the house.</div>
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“Where are we going?” Omayra whispered several minutes later, taking Santi’s hand.</div>
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“’Uela Esperanza’s,” Julito said quietly as he navigated the dark curvy road down the mountain.</div>
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Omayra sniffled and wiped her face. “How will we know if Ma’s okay?”</div>
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“I have Sister Dominga’s telephone number,” Julito said. “Ma’ll go to the convent after mass on Sunday and wait for our call.” </div>
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Santi rested his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes.</div>
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He thought about the conversation between himself and his mom. About the stupid Health class that had started this mess. About the moment his dad walked into the bedroom and about the conspiring looks he’d seen pass between Julito and their mom.</div>
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“Where’s Héctor?” he asked without opening his eyes.</div>
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“He’s living with Titi Migdalia in New York,” Julito said.</div>
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Omayra gasped. “But I thought he was still in juvie.”</div>
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“They reduced his sentence for good behavior. Papi had said he didn’t want Héctor in his house, and Ma didn’t want him to go back to that hell anyway, so she asked if I could help her buy a plane ticket for him, and I said yes.”</div>
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“How long has he been out?” Omayra asked. “Does Pa know?” </div>
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“Six months or so, and no, that bastard doesn’t know,” Julito said with a smile. Santi’s eyes were closed, but he could hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “He’s working in Tío Tato’s bodega and going to school at night. He’s doing fine.”</div>
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“I’m so happy to hear that,” Omayra said with a laugh. “That’s a great opportunity for him. I hope he turns things around for himself.”</div>
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“When did you plan this?” Santi asked is a shaky voice. “When did Ma decide to get us out of the house?”</div>
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“Right after ’Uela Esperanza and Tío Miguel came to visit the last time. She talked to them. Made sure we’d have a safe place to live and a gym where you could start training again. She was hoping it wouldn’t be necessary, but she had to be ready in case—” Julito cleared his throat. “In case you turned out to be gay,” he finished in a careful tone. “She knew Pa would never leave you alone, so we came up with a plan.”</div>
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“Taunt Papi and let him think it was his idea to disown us and throw us out of the house?” Omayra snorted. “He’s an idiot, and Ma finally did something right. I wish she’d come with us, though.”</div>
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“We’ll figure a way to get her out,” Julito assured her. “Life will be different now. She found a way to give us a chance, guys. Let’s make it count.”</div>
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“I never said I am gay,” Santi pointed out. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother and sister, desperate to convince them that he wasn’t a pervert. “I’m not in love with another boy, and it isn’t my fault Papi’s hitting Ma.” He lowered his eyes and stared at the beaded bracelets he’d been squeezing in his hand the entire time. “This mess isn’t my fault…it can’t be my fault… It isn’t! I’m not gay.”</div>
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Julito clasped Santi’s shoulder and said, “I know, buddy. I know you wouldn’t let me down that way.” He patted him on the back a couple of times before focusing his attention on the road.</div>
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Omayra glared at Julito, and then kissed Santi on the cheek. “I’ll always love you, no matter what you do or who you are,” she whispered as she gave him an understanding smile. “Don’t forget that.”</div>
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Santi leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.</div>
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He never let go of the bracelets or Omayra’s hand.</div>
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Taylor V. Donovan is a compulsive reader and author of gay romance and suspense. She is optimistically cynical about humanity and a lover of history, museums, and all things 80s. She shamelessly indulges in mind-numbing reality television, is crazy about fashion, and passionate about civil rights and equality for all.</div>
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When she’s not writing or making a living in the busiest city in the world, Taylor can be found raising her two daughters and their terribly misbehaved furry baby in their home.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://taylorvdonovan.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002359381345">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/taylorvdonovan">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4959678.Taylor_V_Donovan">Goodreads</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-12115176352414280212016-05-24T19:36:00.000+03:002016-05-24T19:36:27.481+03:00In The Spotlight! Banished Threads, Threads #3 by Kaylin McFarren<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A valuable art collection disappears turning a treasure-hunting duo into crime-stopping sleuths committed to vindicating family members in Kaylin McFarren's action-packed suspense novel, Banished Threads.</div>
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While vacationing at the stately Cumberforge Manor in Bellwood, England, Rachel Lyons and Chase Cohen attend an elegant dinner party hosted by her uncle, Paul Lyons, and his aristocratic wife, Sara. Before the evening ends, a priceless collection of Morris Graves's paintings are stolen from her uncle's popular gallery, throwing all suspicion onto his wife's missing granddaughter. Determined to clear Sloan Rafferty's name and, in the process, win Paul's favor, Chase scours the countryside looking for answers. In his absence, the police accuse Rachel's uncle of an unsolved murder and secrets surrounding her grandmother's death and the deaths of Sara's former husbands turn his wife into the most likely suspect.</div>
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With the true villains hell-bent on destroying Paul Lyons and his family, solving both crimes while ensuring her uncle's freedom not only endangers Rachel's life but that of her unborn child. Will Chase save them before the kidnappers enact their revenge or will the ultimate price be paid, as predicted by a vagabond fortuneteller? </div>
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First place - 2016 Hudson Valley RWA Hook, Line & Sinker Contest</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Banished-Threads-Kaylin-McFarren-ebook/dp/B0191RJQZM">Amazon </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27834782-banished-threads?ac=1&from_search=true">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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A lone figure stood in the estuary lookout nestled in the trees above the North Sea on the Holderness Coast, waiting with restless anticipation as Gwen Gallagher approached the cliff's edge. A quick adjustment to the night-vision binoculars allowed the watcher a closer view of the twenty-eight-year-old secretary as she savored the last autumn sunset she would ever see. The crisp, cool air picked up speed, leaving her long black hair sailing like a ghostly pirate's flag behind her. It lifted the hem of her black skirt slightly, exposing her white shapely legs and black suede booties to the wintry elements. Her pale blue eyes swept across the landscape, appraising the beauty surrounding them. She raised her chin toward the darkening sky and smiled, obviously believing the note she had received, inviting her here, had come from her married lover.</div>
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As Gwen moved even closer to the edge, the watcher inhaled a deep breath. All that remained between this ludicrous woman and the vividly blue ocean was two meters of solid rock. From the lookout vantage point, there was barely enough light to confirm that she was staring down at the tossing sands and churning water, mesmerizing in the early evening breeze. All it would take was one push, and she would feel the rush of wind through her hair and see the crystal-blue sea one last time as she slammed headlong into the jagged rocks below.</div>
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The watcher's heart was fluttering erratically now as Gwen stood balancing on the brink of extinction. The sky darkened, and gray waves slammed into the rocks, blasting sea spray high into the air. By all appearances, she had become preoccupied by the black storm clouds collecting overhead and the hard-hitting raindrops striking her cheeks. The wind was whipping now and had started to voice its howling rage. Meanwhile, the watcher climbed down from the lookout and stepped hurriedly across the uneven ground, arriving only six yards away from the scene where Gwen now remained frozen in place. The soles of her shoes held her stoically to the uneven mafic rock as the rising wind whipped and swayed her body like a frail willow. For a brief moment, the watcher was uncertain of what to do next. Then Gwen turned around suddenly and stared back in a trancelike state. Another step forward resulted in waking her.</div>
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"What are you doing here?" she called out. "What do you want?"</div>
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The watcher remained silent and took another step forward before pulling out an engraved, freshly sharpened steak knife. A look of fear crossed Gwen's rain-streaked face, making it impossible not to smile.</div>
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"Go away! Leave me alone!" she screeched. She took a final step back to distance herself, just as a massive wave hit. The spray washed over her and sent her plummeting fifteen meters down. The watcher dropped on all fours to maintain a protected position on the slippery, stony ground. Minutes later, the surge passed, and it was now safe to stand. A quick assessment confirmed the dangling binoculars were safe and in excellent working order, but the engraved knife had been washed away. After stepping down to a new viewpoint, it was easy to ascertain that Gwen had been injured from the fall and was now trapped in the jagged rocks below. She looked up at the watcher and called out for help, screaming at the top of her lungs.</div>
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Bloody idiot. If someone should hear her, they could interfere, and that would ruin everything.</div>
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Five minutes passed as poor Gwen continued to scream. Then, as good fortune would have it, the wind rose again. With the crush of another wave, she was pulled under and swept out to sea.</div>
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The watcher smiled and was about to leave when a tiny fraction of light picked up something on the ground. Careful inspection confirmed it was a gold hoop earring, plucked from its owner—a marvelous souvenir to add to the prized, growing collection. After the watcher slipped it into a pocket in the yellow hooded slicker and removed the binoculars, a pleasant thought came to mind. Since it had become a moral right and obligation to dispose of the unworthy and undeserving in the Cumberforge Manor, it wouldn't be long before Gwen's lover would be joining her and the rest of the moneygrubbing fools who had been personally escorted to the bowels of hell.</div>
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Kaylin McFarren is a California native who has enjoyed traveling around the world. She previously worked as director for a fine art gallery, where she helped foster the careers of various artists before feeling the urge to satisfy her own creative impulses.</div>
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Since launching her writing career, McFarren has earned more than a dozen literary awards in addition to a finalist spot in the 2008 RWA Golden Heart Contest. A member of RWA, Rose City Romance Writers, and Willamette Writers, she also lends her participation and support to various charitable and educational organizations in the Pacific Northwest.</div>
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McFarren currently lives with her husband in Oregon and visits her second home in California once a month. They have three grown daughters and two grandchildren, and look forward to having more.</div>
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Her latest book is the romantic suspense, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Banished-Threads-Kaylin-McFarren-ebook/dp/B0191RJQZM">Banished Threads</a>.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.kaylinmcfarren.com/">Website </a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/KaylinMcFarrenAuthor">Facebook </a><a href="http://www.twitter.com/4kaylin">Twitter </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3184417.Kaylin_McFarren">Goodreads</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-42662450434959557732016-05-20T15:07:00.000+03:002016-05-20T15:08:13.990+03:00Book Trailer, Teasers & Giveaway! European Tour, Rocking the Pop Star #1 by L.V. Lewis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Broken. Guilt-ridden. Ready to start over. </div>
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Brody Kent walked away from the pinnacle of rock superstardom and never looked back. Financially, he never has to work again, but takes jobs as a personal assistant to keep his mind—and other things—busy. The women he works for always want something, and he's more than willing to help. But when he's sent to work for a pop princess, Brody will do anything to make her happy—even if it means admitting the ugly truth about his past. Smothered. Talented. Ready to start her life. </div>
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Successful pop star, Skylar Samuelson is about to embark upon the turning point of her career—a summer tour in Europe. Her manager mother has promised to pull back and allow her full reign of the overseas tour. When Brody Kent becomes her new assistant, Skylar can't deny the attraction. He's perfect. Everything she’s ever wanted. But Brody's hiding something and the truth may break her. If someone else doesn't break her first... </div>
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Lies. Betrayal. And the truth that could ruin them all.</div>
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Growing up, L.V. Lewis wanted to be an internationally known rock star, but unfortunately, lived in the wrong part of the country to pursue that career (and neither American Idol nor The Voice were available then). An early love for the written word gave her the plan B she sought. Now she pens romance novels that let her live vicariously through rock stars and other fascinating archetypes. </div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-40532889366427558932016-05-20T10:22:00.000+03:002016-05-20T10:33:06.006+03:00Teasers & Giveaway! Because I Love You by Tori Rigby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Eight weeks after sixteen-year-old Andie Hamilton gives her virginity to her best friend, “the stick” says she’s pregnant.</div>
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Her friends treat her like she’s carrying the plague, her classmates torture and ridicule her, and the boy she thought loved her doesn’t even care. Afraid to experience the next seven months alone, she turns to her ex-boyfriend, Neil Donaghue, a dark-haired, blue-eyed player. With him, she finds comfort and the support she desperately needs to make the hardest decision of her life: whether or not to keep the baby.</div>
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Then a tragic accident leads Andie to discover Neil’s keeping a secret that could dramatically alter their lives, and she’s forced to make a choice. But after hearing her son’s heartbeat for the first time, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever be able to let go.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Because-Love-You-Tori-Rigby-ebook/dp/B01BUQM50A">Amazon </a><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/because-i-love-you-tori-rigby/1123610772">B&N</a> <a href="http://www.blazepub.com/books/because-i-love-you/">Blaze Publishing</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28457125-because-i-love-you">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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Adopted at three-days-old by a construction worker and a stay at home mom, Tori Rigby grew up with her nose in a book and her fingers on piano keys, always awaiting the day she’d take her own adventure. Now, she goes on multiple journeys through her contemporary and historical romances. She longs to live in the Scottish Highlands, and her favorite place in history is Medieval England—she’d even give up her Internet and running water to go back in time! Tori also writes high-concept genre fiction as Vicki Leigh, and when she isn’t writing, she’s kicking butt in krav maga or attending classes to learn how to catch bad guys.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.trigbywrites.com/">Website </a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/trigbywrites">Facebook </a><a href="http://www.twitter.com/trigbywrites">Twitter </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14833795.Tori_Rigby">Goodreads</a> </i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-37066278712820502952016-05-20T10:04:00.000+03:002016-05-20T10:04:21.479+03:00Excerpt & Giveaway! Power Play, Scoring Chances #3 by Avon Gale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A freak accident during the Stanley Cup Playoffs put an end to Max Ashford’s hockey career. Despite everything, Max gets back into the game he loves—only this time, behind the bench as an assistant coach of the Spartanburg Spitfires, the worst team in the entire league. But nothing prepares him for the shock when he learns the new head coach is Misha Samarin, the man who caused Max’s accident.</span></div>
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After spending guilt-ridden years for his part in Max’s accident, Russian native Misha Samarin has no idea what to do when he’s confronted with Max’s presence. Max’s optimism plays havoc with Misha’s equilibrium—as does the fierce attraction that springs up between them.</div>
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Not only must they navigate Misha’s remorse and a past he’s spent a lifetime to forget, but also a sleazy GM determined to use their history as a marketing hook. But when an unwelcome visitor targets the team, Misha revisits his darkest days, which might cost him and Max the beginning they’ve worked so hard to build.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1SkBHp8">Amazon </a><a href="http://bit.ly/1VjEEfq">DSP </a><a href="http://bit.ly/1QmTMk9">ARe </a><a href="http://bit.ly/26f0m85">B&N</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/power-play/id1109203148?mt=11">iTunes </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29361143">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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“I’d never watched this, you know.”</div>
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“The YouTube video?” Misha had seen that too. It was filed with angry commenters yelling that he should be deported back to Russia.</div>
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“The hit.”</div>
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Misha blinked. “You’ve seen the commercial, though. Yes?”</div>
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“Yeah, I wish I could say I haven’t seen that. But I meant, I didn’t watch this until a few months ago. They played that game on the NHL channel, so I watched it.”</div>
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It never occurred to Misha that Max wouldn’t have seen it, but then he remembered that Max was the hero, not the villain of the story. Misha watched the hit play out on the screen. What must that feel like, to watch the moment it all ended? When Max hit the ice, did he know that game was his last? Did Misha know it was his? How had he felt? He couldn’t remember.</div>
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The scene switched to the replay. Misha watched dispassionately, retreated into the blinding pain of his migraine, and told himself that it was all right to suffer, that he should, that he deserved it.</div>
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Max paused the video. “Look. See what I have there?”</div>
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Misha blinked. He had not expected questions. “I—what?”</div>
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“The puck, Misha. The puck. Your hit wasn’t late.”</div>
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Oh. “Yes. I know.”</div>
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Max stared at him. On the television screen, their younger selves were suspended at the moment everything changed.</div>
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Avon Gale was once the mayor on Foursquare of Jazzercise and Lollicup, which should tell you all you need to know about her as a person. She likes road trips, rock concerts, drinking Kentucky bourbon and yelling at hockey. She’s a displaced southerner living in a liberal midwestern college town, and when she’s not writing you can find her at the salon, making her clients look and feel fabulous. She never gets tired of people and their stories -- either real or the ones she makes up in her head.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.avongalewrites.com/">Website </a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/authoravongale">Facebook </a><a href="http://www.twitter.com/avongalewrites">Twitter </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14237686.Avon_Gale">Goodreads</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-33155873602203573162016-05-20T09:49:00.001+03:002016-05-20T09:49:25.085+03:00New Release! The Doctor in Unit H, The Mockingbird Place #4 by Kris Cook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Maddox Butler</div>
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Some people say you can’t fall in love at 18. But I did. And the man of my dreams? Jaris Black. He was also 18. Our first year at medical school we moved in together. It was…perfect. Until…</div>
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I haven’t seen or talked to him in six years. But I’ve never stopped thinking about him. Jaris is a very successful doctor, which is no surprise to me. Still living in Unit H at Mockingbird Place. God, how I’ve missed him.</div>
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I won’t drag Jaris into the chaos that is my life. No. I won’t. But my mother who is dying has requested to see him. They were so close. Still are. I had to honor Mom’s wish. I called him and he’s arriving in an hour. Can I keep my feelings hidden from him? I need to, for his sake.</div>
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Though starting in straight erotic romance, Kris's total focus now is on gay romance. When asked why recently, his answer was "My muse finally came out of the closet. Isn't it about time? I’ve been out since I was twenty-five." A voracious reader, Kris loves many genres of fiction, but this writer's favorite books are romances that are edgy, sexy, with rich characters and unique challenges. Kris' influences include Anne Rice, JR Ward, Lexi Blake and Shayla Black. Last year, Kris married the love of his life Stephen.</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-13760437039618246602016-05-20T09:29:00.001+03:002016-05-20T09:30:33.988+03:00Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway! Chimera by Stephie Walls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I couldn’t be anything other than a romantic at heart — it’s my nature, it’s who I am. But this isn’t a typical story of traditional love. It isn’t a fairy tale. No happily ever after neatly tied up with a shiny bow. It’s a memoir of the reality left behind in the wake of grief — the desolation, the resurrection, and final culmination life offers to the fallen. </div>
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This is a journey through love…the love of self, love of a friend, and sometimes love is ugly, messy —destructive.</div>
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My name is Bastian Thames…and this is my story.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://goo.gl/0XHrfA">Amazon </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29395920-chimera">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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<i><b>For Magoo…</b></i></div>
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<b>chimera [ki-meer-uh] (n) – a thing that is hoped or wished for but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve</b></div>
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Chapter One</div>
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When Sylvie died, it left a hole in my being that seemed prodigious. I adorn my face with the plastic appearance people anticipate from me, but internally, I weep. Continuing through the monotonous motion of my daily life, I increasingly find myself lost in what my friends—well, those who remain—refer to as a fictional world: novels, authors, artists, musicians, and the illusion of relationships on social media. The more time I spend on Facebook, the more entrenched I become in the fiction that exists on the screen. I believe these “friends” are truly concerned for me; they’re what relationships are in reality. Sadly, these seem to be the only things keeping me hanging on, but the thread threatens to break daily, frayed from top to bottom. The tightly woven fabric that was once my life has deteriorated beyond recognition.</div>
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That’s the crux of my juxtaposition. My life had value, it had meaning. It was everything I had ever imagined it could be. But without Sylvie, black clouds roll through my mind, hindering my ability to think, eliminating productivity, and stifling my creativity. My art is as dead as I am. But online…online I can be anything I want to be, whatever version of myself I decide to show to the world. I don’t have to be the pathetic artist who lost his muse. I don’t have to be the sweet, sensitive man Sylvie loved. I don’t know whom I want to reinvent myself as, but the idea of being whatever still exists in my soul doesn’t appeal to me. My craft has become recreating my persona, anything to escape the pain, the desolation, and the solitude. Surely there’s art in recreating an identity. </div>
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Most days, I find it difficult to even get out of bed. The colder it gets outside, the shorter the days are, the deeper I sink—sometimes only escaping the protection of my covers to take a piss or get something to eat or drink. Although frequently, I let those things go in favor of marinating in my misery. My laptop calls to me from my nightstand when the loneliness becomes too much to bear, the darkness too black to see through.</div>
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That recognizable blue-and-white screen brings me comfort, the newsfeed seemingly a link to real conversation, touching base with the people I’ve known for years—but it always introduces the possibility of newcomers. The “friend recommendation” is the online equivalent to a friend introducing you to someone new; at least it is in my mind. I always check out the recommendations. They’re often other painters or singers that might have known Sylvie—or people I barely recognize from high school or college. But every once in a while, some totally random person surfaces with no tie to my past. </div>
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Those are the connections I find most interesting, most appealing. </div>
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They also seem to be the safest, having no knowledge of the person I once was, or how all that remains of me is a fragmented shell. I have made several “friends” this way, people I would say I’m close to—even though we’ve never met and likely never will. Herein lies my fictional world, the one my real friends don’t understand and believe to be emotionally damaging to me. I’m not processing my grief…blah, blah, blah. If I hear that shit one more time, I may scream.</div>
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As soon as I log in, the familiar recommendations bombard me as if the universe is playing some cruel joke. There she is, my Sylvie…only her name is Sera Martin. She’s a perfect duplicate with the same striking green eyes, long chestnut-colored hair, high cheekbones, and luscious, pouty lips. </div>
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I realize I haven’t inhaled or exhaled. </div>
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I gasp and hold my breath until my lungs burn. I haven’t seen her in years. The day she died, I came home and stripped our house of any reminder—every picture, every video, every stitch of clothing, anything she loved. It all had to leave. I couldn’t bear the weight of what the world took from me. I imagined if I discarded everything, she wouldn’t haunt me, and maybe, somehow, I would manage to learn to live again if reminders of her didn’t surround me.</div>
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Yet, her loss possesses me daily.</div>
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This girl. This Sera. Could this be Mother Nature returning my Sylvie to me in a strange twist of fate? The notion there’s a doppelganger roaming the world has always been a thought I believe in. It’s possible after years of suffering, dying inside, barely hanging on, that my savior has come. Without hesitation, I click “add friend.” </div>
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Sera responds to my request with a private message.</div>
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<i>Sera: Wow! Are you really Bastian Thames?</i></div>
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<i>Me: Yes. Have we met before?</i></div>
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<i>Sera: Once, but I doubt you’d remember. It was at a gallery down on the West End where your work was being featured a couple years ago. Is this the real Bastian? Not some lurker claiming to be the famous artist?</i></div>
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<i>Me: Far cry from famous, but yes, one and the same. Are you certain we met that night? I remember the opening and can assure you I would have remembered you. </i></div>
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<i>Sera: Yes, you were with your wife. She’s quite lovely. I’m not sure which was more beautiful, her or the nudes you had in the collection. That showing was the talk of the art community for months around here.</i></div>
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<i>Me: That was the last opening I did. Seems like a lifetime ago.</i></div>
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<i>Sera: Are you not painting anymore? I hate to admit that I lost track of your work when I went off to college but for years, I was a huge fan.</i></div>
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<i>Me: Life happened. I haven’t painted in some time.</i></div>
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<i>Sera: I can’t imagine you quit painting. Surely you just quit putting them out for the public.</i></div>
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<i>Me: No. I haven’t so much as held a brush in five years. </i></div>
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<i>Sera: That’s a shame. Hey look, Bastian, I have to run out but I accepted your request. I hope maybe we can talk some later. Maybe you’ll let me pick your brain about a project I’m working on?</i></div>
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<i>Me: Certainly. I hope to hear from you soon.</i></div>
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<i>Sera: Bye</i></div>
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<i>Me: Later</i></div>
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My mind races with possibilities. I immediately go to her profile to see what information I can garner on her before our next conversation—assuming one comes. Jesus, she’s twenty-five, went to the Rhode Island School of Design, graduated with her Masters in Fine Arts, and holy hell, she’s a sculptor. If these pictures are of her work, then she has phenomenal talent. Scouring her profile provides only surface-level information. There’s almost nothing personal. The pictures all seem to be with other artists or at galleries or in a studio. Moving to her wall, I find tons of posts by other local artists, memes about artwork, jokes…the proverbial Facebook bullshit. </div>
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I almost quit scrolling when I see a post that grabs my attention. There’s a picture of two beautiful women, scantily clad, one bent over, the other yielding a paddle, and the words, “Someone’s been a bad girl.” Jesus Christ. There are one hundred forty-seven comments and two hundred fifty-three likes on the thread posted by a Maria Martin. </div>
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I click on Maria’s name first, assuming it will be a sister or cousin, not expecting it to be her mother. Holy shit, whose mother posts this kind of profanity on their daughter’s Facebook wall? Making my way back to the thread, I find myself enthralled by the dialogue. </div>
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It’s cheeky and playful but talk about insight. This one picture, one conversation, tells me scads about who she is personally, not about her work, but seemingly what she enjoys—intimately. Reading her responses to the comments ignites a fire in an area of my anatomy I thought had died with Sylvie. As my cock starts to twitch, that old, familiar heat seeps through my crotch. </div>
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I stop myself, realizing I’m staring at dialogue—about a woman who could be my dead wife’s twin—between people I don’t know. It’s morbid, really. Backing out of the comments and Sera’s profile, then I set the computer aside. I don’t close the laptop for fear of missing a message from her. Lying back, I stare at the all-too-familiar ceiling. I know every blemish on the drywall with aching familiarity. There have been hours of loneliness and isolation. The depth of pain is so fathomless, I often wonder how I made it to the next day without feeling the cold steel in my hand, without pulling the trigger.</div>
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I've lived all over the country but have made Greenville, South Carolina my home for the last 20 of my 37 years. I have a serious addiction to anything Coach and would live on Starbucks if I could get away with it. If you follow me on Facebook you'll also find that I'm slightly enamored with Charlie Hunnam. I'm an avid reader (literary whore to be more precise) averaging around 300 novels a year. I have a penchant for great love stories, sensual poetry and am a romantic at heart. </div>
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I currently work full-time in the Greenville area and fill my "extra" time with writing contemporary romance novels with a hint of erotica. I couldn't do it without the support of my family and friends who push me to keep going when I don't have the confidence or patience.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.stephiewalls.com/">Website </a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/stephiewalls2014">Facebook </a><a href="https://twitter.com/StephieWalls">Twitter </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8126412.Stephie_Walls">Goodreads</a></i></b><br />
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-85444761379812011462016-05-20T08:55:00.000+03:002016-05-20T08:55:17.429+03:00Excerpt & Giveaway! Under Ground, Book One by Alice Rachel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Love is a taboo, a mere fantasy— foreign, unreachable, and dangerous.</span></div>
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Raised in a society where women have no rights, seventeen-year-old Thia Clay holds little hope for a bright future. When her parents sell her into marriage to elite member William Fox, Thia slowly gives in to despair. William is nothing but a cruel, selfish young man with no other interest than to serve his own.</div>
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Born illegally and forced to hide from the authorities his entire life, nineteen-year-old Chi Richards is an active member of the Underground—a rebellious group seeking to overthrow the government.</div>
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Chi only has one goal—to rescue his parents from the work camp they were forced into.</div>
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Meeting Thia was never part of the plan, and neither was falling in love with her.</div>
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If caught in their forbidden relationship, Thia and Chi could face a death sentence, and when devastating secrets surface from Chi’s past, Thia has to rely on her instincts to make a choice that could save her or destroy her forever.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Under-Ground-Special-Alice-Rachel/dp/150753289X">Amazon </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27388444-under-ground-book-1?ac=1&from_search=1&from_nav=true">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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“During the meeting, only speak when spoken to and don’t ask any questions,” Mother snaps at me coldly.</div>
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“Yes, Mother.” I roll my eyes. </div>
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Why does she have to remind me to be quiet? I’m only allowed to talk when someone addresses me, and questions from me are never welcome. This situation will no different from any other circumstance in my life. I want to grunt something back at her, but I swallow the snide remark quickly and try my best to look obedient.</div>
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“Don’t look at William too insistently. Don’t say anything stupid that could make him or his family feel uncomfortable.” She keeps going on and on with her demands. Mother has been instructing me in proper manners for years; it’s hard to focus on her words. </div>
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"Thia, I know the Foxes have accepted your engagement to William, but remember that nothing is formalized yet. Your father and I have gone through great lengths to prepare for this wedding. You have to be on your best behavior during the entire dinner."</div>
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In one week, William's family will come to our house for our official meeting—a crucial reunion that will finalize our engagement or break it apart. His parents will gauge whether I'm still worthy of their son or not. Mother is anxious, worried I might make a fool of myself. </div>
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I rest my head against the windowpane and try to block out her words as they echo against the walls of our private compartment. The train is moving at full speed. My mind keeps drifting while the landscape passes me by like a blur, going too fast for me to stop or breathe.</div>
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There are just a few bullet trains in New York State, all of them reserved for the upper-class. They ride through the mountains, between the different towns, and into the metropolis, Eboracum City, where Mother is taking me to try on my bridal gown. </div>
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"Your father spent a lot of money on your dowry, Thia. We offered the highest amount we could afford to make sure the Foxes wouldn't turn you down."</div>
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As if that family needs any more money. I grit my teeth and inhale deeply. I was promised to William exactly four years ago, on the day I turned thirteen. That's when I became a piece of merchandise sold in a trade to benefit my parents. My marriage to William was settled by our two families. I had no say in it; nobody cares how I feel about the whole arrangement anyway. </div>
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"You will be standing until instructed otherwise," she continues, "so William and his parents can look at you while I introduce you. It is of the utmost importance for you to impress them and give your very best, Thia. Many girls would give everything they have to be matched with a young man like William. It is an honor for us that his family chose you." </div>
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Mother sends me a quick glance. A lot remains to be done before the union is complete, and this upcoming ceremony has put her completely on edge, turning the past few months into a real nightmare. </div>
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"Your father holds high hopes for this union, Thia. Once you are married to William, your father will get promoted to a higher paying job. Mr. Fox even mentioned the possibility of a whole new career. If we are lucky, he will hire your father to work in his company. </div>
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"You know William has the right to refuse you at any given time. Don't give him any reason to do so. You are to obey him and his parents no matter what they may demand of you. Getting rejected would be a disgrace upon our entire family. I do not need to remind you what the consequences would be. This is your only chance. No one else will agree to marry you if William changes his mind." </div>
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"Yes, Mother."</div>
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Alice Rachel is the author of the YA Dystopian ROMANCE SERIES “Under Ground.” Originally from France, Alice Rachel moved to the United States ten years ago to live with her husband, and she now also shares her home with two really old foster guinea pigs.</div>
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Alice enjoys books of all kinds and more specifically those introducing well-written antagonists and complex protagonists. Alice also loves to draw her own book characters.</div>
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The first book of her series “Under Ground” came out in October 2015, and the sequel will be out later this year.</div>
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Alice loves to interact with all readers, so feel free to send her a Tweet.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.alicerachelwrites.com/">Website </a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/alicerachelwrit">Facebook </a><a href="https://twitter.com/AliceRachelWrit">Twitter </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14583678.Alice_Rachel">Goodreads</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-49166875522495561892016-05-17T15:05:00.000+03:002016-05-17T15:05:56.154+03:00Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway! Reign Again by Ellie Keys <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes I wish it would rain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes I wish it would pour</span></div>
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But most times</div>
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I just wish I could learn to soar</div>
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Learning to soar<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ve spent most of my life living for others, guided by another and shown what “is best” for me. One morning, I decided I’d reached the end of my rope with the life I was leading. That was the morning I became Reign again.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">~Reign Amethyst Jeffries</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1SUPwgn">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reign-again-ellie-keys/1123750535;jsessionid=FA2942B53F0111698773C8041B90E14F.prodny_store02-atgap05?ean=2940153205014">B&N</a> | <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/reign-again">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1109950180">I-Tunes</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29073660-reign-again?from_search=true&search_version=service">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg1YZKwMMHE9ImHKn8k_eGtcJOZYAqi6h183Dfu11YRPhBMqCEtJ-xRwo-00rYDShSgnx3rbrUzyaUOUYTitUvxmHtaVJMHjiWEYvDrggYSNpswA6xTyUQfaRLjdwkyBqr5CoFFd6t_BJl/s1600/e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg1YZKwMMHE9ImHKn8k_eGtcJOZYAqi6h183Dfu11YRPhBMqCEtJ-xRwo-00rYDShSgnx3rbrUzyaUOUYTitUvxmHtaVJMHjiWEYvDrggYSNpswA6xTyUQfaRLjdwkyBqr5CoFFd6t_BJl/s1600/e.jpg" /></a></div>
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“I was looking for my clothes so I could make my exit. You didn’t leave that information in your note.”</div>
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His smile faltered when he looked at what was left of my dress that I’d been wearing the night before. The look he was sporting had me giggling because he looked like a little kid that figured out he shouldn’t roll his toy car in the street with other cars. Very specific example there, might want to get out a bit more, Reign.</div>
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“What was that last bit there? What specific example?”</div>
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His look and words had me realizing that I hadn’t just thought that, I’d actually spoken that aloud.</div>
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“Ha. Yeah, that was in reference to something that I was thinking, which I believed I’d said only in my head. Okay. We’re going to move passed that one. I need to get something from you.”</div>
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At his quirked eyebrow and questioning glance, I quickly corrected my statement.</div>
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“I mean, I need some clothes or pants. I can’t leave here with just this shirt.”</div>
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He gave me an appreciative once over and muttered something to himself. Was he actually attracted to me or just the fact that there was a half-naked woman in front of him? Hold on, or was he recalling something we did last night?</div>
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“Did we … did you and I have sex last night?”</div>
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My face must’ve reflected the sheer terror that I felt at the possibility that I did something that stupid. I’m a mother. I cannot have idiotic moments like that. The man is “fuck me until I don’t know my own name” hot, but I don’t have time for getting caught up in a moment.</div>
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“Relax, Reign. We didn’t do anything.”</div>
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My face fell. I was scrutinizing his features as I relaxed about the fact that we hadn’t done anything, but I needed to be sure.</div>
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“You’re sure? Nothing, absolutely nothing, happened between the two of us?”</div>
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His chest moved up and down as he released a chuckle then an exasperated sigh. His hands moved to his pockets as he responded.</div>
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“Reign, I assure you, nothing happened between us last night.”</div>
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The way he adamantly spoke told me that he was telling the truth. Now, I felt like a fool because I wanted to know why nothing happened. We were obviously attracted to one another. I mean I was checking him out and he was doing the same. Chewing the inside of my jaw, I thought about last night and tried to remember the details. I really wanted to know why we hadn’t done anything. Since we hadn’t, how in the hell did I end up in his shirt?</div>
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“Reign, I can see the cogs of that brain of yours working. There are several reasons why we didn’t do anything. For one, I prefer conscious women when engaging in sexual activity. Call me old fashioned that way. Two, I don’t make it a habit to bring women to this place. It is where I lay my head when I have to work. I left the party last night with you and brought you here. On my way here, I called a doctor friend of mine and she came to check you out. She’s the one that changed your clothes from the ones you got sick all over. FYI, you got mine as well. She helped you clean up and put you in that shirt. Third, she could barely get you out of the clothes you were in. You fought Marlena the entire time. Call me crazy, but I don’t fight women to bed them. I prefer a willing participant.” He smiled then shook his head before adding, “In the spirit of full disclosure, I rifled through your bag to find your phone so I would have your number to call the famous woman who passed out on me last night.”</div>
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Ellie Keys is an author of contemporary romance, paranormal romance and mystery. She spends a great deal of her time lending her unrelenting pen to the voices that have taken over her mind. The characters that readers will find in her works have a demanding nature. Ellie is thrilled to be able to share the stories from the wealth of works that she has created. She lives in Georgia with her son. Her loves outside of writing are reading a good book and losing herself in a great movie. Inspiration comes from everything around her. There is a great deal in store for lovers of romance and suspense seekers. She invites you to follow her via social media.</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-82178723839439202532016-05-17T14:31:00.001+03:002016-05-17T14:32:08.914+03:00Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway! The Spiral Down, The Fall Up #2 by Aly Martinez<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was afraid to fly.</span></div>
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He made me soar.</div>
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After years of climbing the ladder of success in the music industry, I finally had everything I could want. </div>
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Yet I still found myself wandering through life alone.</div>
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Captain Evan Roth was the one man I never saw coming. </div>
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Tall, dark, mysterious… Straight. </div>
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We were both damaged beyond repair and searching for something so elusive we weren’t sure it even existed.</div>
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But, when two broken souls collide in midair, falling is a given.</div>
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I just never expected to crave the spiral down.</div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1Xuy9Go">Amazon </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27187752-the-spiral-down?ac=1&from_search=true">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
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Henry</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“How about you and one of your girls come out to my show in L.A. next week? My treat. Dinner, drinks, the whole deal. Evan and I would love to take you two beautiful ladies out for an evening.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, cocking his head to catch my gaze.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I leaned back into my seat and lifted a hand to massage his shoulder. I was barely able to suppress a moan when the angle of his firm trap muscle met my palm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Fuck, this guy was built like a brick wall. And I was going to love every second of watching him crumble for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oh, come on, Evan. It’s the least we can do. Double date.” I winked at Jessica. “You can fly them out! My plane should be ready by then.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jessica’s eyes jumped to Evan’s. “You’re a pilot?” Her smile spread irritatingly wide.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Back off, Ginger Spice.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Snapping my fingers in her direction, I corrected, “He’s my pilot.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Subtlety was not a virtue I possessed. Was subtlety a virtue at all?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Your <i>temporary</i> pilot,” he amended before shaking his head and then tipping his beer to his lips for a long pull.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Anyway. Do we have a date?” And, by date, I meant feeding her dinner while I attempted to work my way into Evan’s pants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She pressed one finger to her lips and then nervously flashed her eyes around the cabin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oops. Sorry.” I shrugged sheepishly. Lifting my drink to my mouth, I discreetly passed her my cocktail napkin and then not-so-discreetly brushed my forearm against Evan’s chest as I pulled away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He offered her a tight smile just before she disappeared.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I grinned proudly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What the fucking hell was that?” he whisper-yelled at me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That was me getting a woman’s number.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He arched an eyebrow. “A woman. Really?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What? Is that not allowed?” I feigned innocence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He clenched his fist in his lap, and it made me suddenly aware that my own hands had stopped trembling—and in record time, I should note. Evan seemed to be quite useful in the art of distraction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He leaned closer. “Don’t bullshit me. I looked you up. You’re…” He stopped, unwilling to say the big, bad “G” word.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I’m what?” I taunted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his beer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We went back to silence until Jessica came back by with another drink, complete with her phone number written on the napkin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I’m not going on a double date,” Evan said as I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to fly them out? Not a problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of my professional responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d also like to mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that woman is fucked up.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My head snapped to his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I asked with more attitude than I had originally planned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes. Play,” he sneered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I stirred my drink. “Let me get this straight. I’m offering to fly her out in a private jet, feed her dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city, and put her front row at a concert that has been sold out for over a year. That doesn’t seem like a play to me. It sounds like I’m trying to do something nice for a woman I was rude to earlier.” I casually leaned back in my seat. “My conscience doesn’t ‘play’ when it comes to apologies.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Right. Well, maybe you should have a chat with your conscience, because she looks like she just won the date of a lifetime. Meanwhile, you don’t even like women.” He stalled, no doubt looking for just the right word to express his disgust without sounding like a bigot. Judging by his gentleness when we’d taken off, he wasn’t the type of guy to go for the fag bomb.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I watched him intently, excited to see how he was going to handle this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You’re <i>gay</i>.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I frowned at his lack of creativity. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. But I’ll have you know I love women.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It wasn’t a lie. I adored women. Especially Levee and Robin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I just didn’t like pussy. <i>Meh. Semantics.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He gaped. “You’re bi?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And I’ll repeat: None of your damn business. But yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Again, it wasn’t necessarily a lie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Was I bisexual? Fuck no. My cock was in no way an equal opportunity employer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was somewhat bilingual though. I knew how to ask for a blow job in English and Spanish. I pretended that was what he meant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Chupame la verga.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.</span></div>
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After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.alymartinez.com/">Website </a>| <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAlyMartinez">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/AlyMartinezAuth">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/AlyMartinez">Goodreads</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-6911779793853992112016-05-17T11:03:00.000+03:002016-05-17T16:03:43.257+03:00In The Spotlight! Resurrecting Her, Revive #2 by A.M. Wilson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Marlena Aldrich</span></div>
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Travis is still out there. I don’t think I’ll ever be free. He’s not going to stop until I’m his. Elias and Sin may be protecting me, but I’ll never be safe. Not with all the secrecy and lies I’ve been told. But I have a secret of my own this time, and it’s destroying me slowly from the inside.</div>
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Elias Brooks</div>
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I made a mistake by exposing Marlee to my world, but I won’t stop until I make it right. It’s too late to go back now. She’s mine. I’ll let her unravel every thread. Disclose every single half-truth until I can breathe life back into her. What’s done is done. I put her in danger before but never again.</div>
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We made ourselves vulnerable with our carelessness. We’re both to blame. When the threat comes to our doorstep, will we fight through it together? Or let it tear us apart?</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Redesigning Fate</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i>Amazon US: <a href="http://amzn.to/1UD7xjM">http://amzn.to/1UD7xjM</a></i></b></div>
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A.M. Wilson fell in love with writing in second grade when she won a young writers' contest. She spent the years following carrying around a spiral notebook, which she filled with poetry and short stories detailing the dramatics of being a young girl. When she hit her college years, she set the notebooks down and fell in love with reading romance novels. She may have attended college four separate times, in four different fields, but always knew in her heart writing was her true passion. She grew up in Duluth, Minnesota and spent her summers in the cold waters of Lake Superior, but relocated to the Twin Cities with the love of her life and has two spirited children who make her world go round.</div>
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<b><i><a href="http://www.amwilson.net/">Website</a> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/A.M.WilsonAuthor">Facebook </a><a href="https://twitter.com/AMWilsonAuthor">Twitter </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15247302.A_M_Wilson">Goodreads</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-34606171642032101082016-05-17T10:08:00.000+03:002016-05-17T10:08:27.776+03:00Coming Soon! Characters Interview & Excerpt: Welcome To Sortilege Falls by Libby Heily<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sixteen-year-old Grape Merriweather has just moved to Sortilege Falls and already she knows something isn't right. A small pack of teenage models, too beautiful for words, holds the town in their sway. The models have no plans on making Grape's life easy. But no matter how cruel they are to Grape and the other “Normals”, no one can stay angry with them for long.</div>
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Grape's life changes for the better, or so she thinks, when Mandy, the only “nice” model, befriends her. But that’s when the trouble truly begins. Mandy's friendship places Grape smack in the middle of a medical mystery that has the entire town on edge. One by one, the models fall ill from an incurable disease. Grape quickly realizes that the models' parents are hiding a secret, even as they watch their children die. To save her only friend, Grape will have to find the truth–and that means putting her life in danger.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Release Date: May 31st</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29632194-welcome-to-sortilege-falls?from_search=true&search_version=service">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Today, I'll be interviewing two characters from my book, “Welcome to Sortilege Falls.” This feels a little weird for me. It's not everyday your creations come to life and answer your questions. I'm so nervous. What if they don't behave? Better get this over with.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape, Liam, would you like to introduce yourselves?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Hi! My name's Grape. I wish I had a nickname but it's pretty hard to shorten Grape. My family just moved to what I thought was going to be a cute little town in Missouri, but it totally isn't. Not at all.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Hello, Miss Heily. It is a pleasure to meet you.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Wow, Liam! Your accent is so much crisper in real life. Were you born in Eastern Europe?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I was born far away, that is most accurate.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">That didn't really answer my question but I guess that's okay. Moving on. I want to let Mikky's readers get to know you guys. What are some of your hobbies?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> I love watching movies. Acting's kind of my thing and I really like to watch others perform so I can pick up techniques. Especially anything with Lance Irving. He plays my favorite character, Stone Huntington, Teen PI. I want to be cast on that show so bad!</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Well, my busy schedule does not leave much time for hobbies. I am a nurse and a club owner. The club is more of a coffee house really. I also have a community to watch over.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Yeah, a community of creepers.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Now, now, we promised no fighting.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Who is fighting? Grape is, as usual, just a bit sour.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> I never heard that one before.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Try not to strain a muscle rolling your eyes, Grape. Let's move on. How old are you?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Sixteen. Finally! Getting my license was huge for me. Not that my mom lets me drive that often. She's a doctor and she sees a lot of car wreck victims. So...not much driving for me.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I am far older than I look.</div>
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Grape: Can you give it a rest with the Dracula thing for a bit? It's embarrassing.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Dracula?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Can't you tell by the way he's dressed that he wants to be a vampire?</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">I just thought he came from a funeral.</span></i></b></div>
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<i><b><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></b></i> No, I do usually wear a lot of black. It goes well with my pale skin.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> So would a tan. Maybe you should try a tan.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Getting a little heated in here. Let's keep rolling, huh? If you could spend the day with any one person, who would it be?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I had to leave someone behind when I moved to Sortilege Falls, someone very close to me. I would spend the day with her, and every day after if I could.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Weird how you answered that and didn't really answer at the same time.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Details are for friends, my dear. Generalities are for everyone else.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">What about you, Grape?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> My dad. Definitely my dad. He passed away a few years ago. I think that's why Mom wanted to move, to be somewhere new. My dad and I were really close. He gave me my name. I miss him. A lot. My mom and brother do, too. It would be nice to see him again.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">I'm sorry to hear about your father.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Thanks.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">I tell you what, let's lighten the mood. What is your favorite thing about living in Sortilege Falls?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> The safety, of course. Where I come from, there is much violence. War is constant and unforgiving. Here is peace.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Wow, I was going to say the mall is okay. I feel a little silly now. We didn't have much war in Virginia. I mean, I've only lived here a few days and I don't have much to go on. There are a lot of gnomes, though. I mean, why does everyone have garden gnomes on their front lawn, and back lawn, and side lawn? They're practically everywhere you look.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Kind of a gnome infestation, huh?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> I don't know. Sometimes I could swear I've seen them breathing. That's crazy, I know. I guess there are just so many of them that you start seeing things.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">I'm just going to pretend like that didn't happen. Describe your first meeting.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Ugh. Well, originally, I saw him talking to a kid outside of my high school during lunch. I thought that was weird because this guy is way too old to hang out with high school kids. I mean waaaaaaaaay too old. But we didn't really meet then.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> No, but I do remember seeing you.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> I know, you practically stared me down.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I was sizing you up.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Whatever. Mr. Undead here and I met when I went to his “club” which is not really in town, by the way. It's more on the outskirts, in the woods, near nothing. This is the weirdest thing about Liam, and trust me, everything about this guy is weird, he has a throne in the club. Like an honest-to-goodness throne. Who owns a throne?</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I bought it at a yard sale.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> What?</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> People have expectations. I do not wish to disappoint. It is an image thing. Silly really. I feel much more comfortable on the floor but comfort does not a business make.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Yeah, well, when I went to his club we had a bit of a discussion but Liam shot down my questions pretty quickly.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> You were asking me questions I could not answer in front of people, much like this interview. Secrecy is a must.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">So, I take it sparks didn't fly?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Ewwww. Gross. He's like a million years old. I'm in high school, you do know that, right?</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Of course I do.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Grape Merriweather is right. Love between us would be inappropriate, for many reasons. I also prefer older women. Her mother, on the other hand, is quite stunning.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Hey!</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I am just stating the obvious.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Okay, let's try to cool this off before an actual fight breaks out. Favorite color? That seems tame enough.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> I hate to admit it but it's purple. In no way should it be, but it is. Purple. Crap. I really wish my name wasn't Grape.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> I know you expect me to say black, everyone does. But it's actually yellow. I look quite handsome in yellow. It is a shame that I rarely get to wear it.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">How do you feel about the Models getting sick?</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> It's awful. Mandy, she's the only one who's been really friendly, is starting to get stomach aches. That means that she might only be days from dying. We've hung out a few times and I've been over to her house to watch movies. Her life isn't as easy as you would think. I mean, her mom decorated their entire house in pictures of Mandy. How weird is that? And the kids at school follow her around like puppy dogs. They've broken into the stall in the bathroom when she's, you know, peeing just to get a look at her. But despite that, she's a really good person. She stopped a group of Models from picking on me. It's just awful to watch anyone suffer, especially people you care about.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> It is unfortunate, as is all suffering. The Models are paying for the mistakes of others.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> There, see that? Right there? That's the most helpful he gets. You can tell he knows something, but he won't say it.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> We do not reveal our secrets in public. That is how we ensure they remain secrets.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Really? How am I supposed to find a cure when this is what I run into?</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Perhaps there is no cure. Perhaps there is no help.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> You are such a downer.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> Hmmm? Most people seem to like me.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Well, I guess I'm not most people.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam:</span></i></b> You are very correct.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Well, I'd love to say this was a pleasure but, yeah, you guys have made it kind of awkward. I was hoping we could build a bridge here but I guess that won't be happening.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> Sure, we can build a bridge. And then we can push Liam off of it.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Liam: </span></i></b>So much hostility in someone so young. I do not understand it.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Grape:</span></i></b> I don't even think his accent's real.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Okay, time to get these guys safely back in their book. We don't need a war on your blog. Thanks Mikky for having us over! I promise next time, I'll bring some characters who behave.</span></i></b></div>
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Stale air filled the club. The smell was so old, so ancient, that it distracted her for a few moments from the man sitting on a throne in the middle of the room. Even in the dim light, she recognized Graeson’s vampire-wannabe friend. It seemed as if he recognized Grape as well, judging by the pointy-toothed grin he gave her. His tailored black suit and red tie made him look even more like a member of the bloodthirsty undead. Stretched out in front of the throne lay a woman wearing a green bikini beneath a sheer body stocking. Her silky red hair lay splayed out around her. The woman glanced at Graeson and then sealed her gaze on Grape.</div>
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“Graeson, you brought a friend,” the vampire said in his clipped accent.</div>
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The door shut behind them, sealing out the sunshine. Dull yellow and blue light bathed the room. Candles and strings of Christmas lights provided most of the illumination in the club—that, and the faint glow of the vamp’s skin.</div>
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The few patrons in the room looked up from their board game to inspect the newcomers. They sat tucked away in a booth in the far corner. Mugs of steaming coffee were the only things on the table that Grape recognized. She wasn’t sure what their costumes were about, but she noticed that none of them were dressed like vampires, though one did seem to be wearing a werewolf mask.</div>
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“Role playing,” the vamp said, catching the direction of Grape’s gaze. “It is a specialty here, no?”</div>
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“I can see that,” Grape said, glancing from him to Graeson, the only two people in the room dressed in costumes that were suitable for real life as well. The woman on the floor could have worn hers to the beach, she guessed, but it didn’t look appropriate for an afternoon out.</div>
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“Would you like something to drink?" the vamp asked. “Or to eat? This one, I’m sure has a great appetite.” He nodded his head to Grape as he spoke.</div>
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“I’m not hungry. What do you mean about my appetite?” How the hell could he know she ate all the time?</div>
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“I meant no harm. You are a teenager. Teenagers eat constantly.”</div>
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“I’ll have some wine," Graeson said, not looking up from the woman at the vamp’s feet.</div>
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“Dear, get our guests some wine.”</div>
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The woman stretched out her lanky body. She stood in one elegant motion. Her red hair trailed down her back to the tops of her buttocks. There was no sign of the white cream that Graeson wore, but her skin was deadly pale nonetheless.</div>
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“That’s my ex-girlfriend,” Graeson whispered to Grape as the woman walked away.</div>
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“No way.” She couldn’t imagine a world where that woman and Graeson dated.</div>
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“So, Grape Merriweather has decided to speak to me again,” the vamp said, his eyes twinkling. </div>
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“Not on purpose,” Grape said, her voice flat. She didn’t feel nearly as nervous as she had the day before in the hospital, but that was mostly because it was hard to be intimidated by a man when just behind him sat a boy in troll makeup arguing that the spell he’d used should have vanquished the wood nymph to his right.</div>
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“You know her?” Graeson asked his friend.</div>
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“We have been acquainted,” the vamp said. “Grape is such an unusual name.”</div>
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“My name isn’t the most unusual thing in this room.”</div>
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Graeson glanced quizzically from the man on the throne to Grape. “Liam, when did you meet Grape?”</div>
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“Liam?” Grape tried hard to keep herself from chuckling. “Like the actor?”</div>
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“I was Liam first,” the vamp said. “Many, many years before this so-called actor.</div>
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Libby Heily began writing after spending years as an obsessive reader. Nothing was safe from her eyes – she tore through books, magazines, cereal boxes, and shampoo bottles with equal enthusiasm. Libby's written plays, screenplays, flash fiction, short stories, and novels. When not spending time in made up places with invisible friends, she enjoys running, hiking and performing improv in Raleigh, NC. </div>
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Enter to win a copy of Welcome to Sortilege Falls – hosted by Goodreads:</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/181005-welcome-to-sortilege-falls">https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/181005-welcome-to-sortilege-falls</a></div>
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<b><i><a href="http://libbyheily.com/">Website </a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/libbyheilyauthor/">Facebook </a><a href="https://twitter.com/libbyheily">Twitter </a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5066866.Libby_Heily">Goodreads</a> <a href="https://www.wattpad.com/user/Libby13">Wattpad</a></i></b></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-58182227733972807782016-05-13T15:58:00.000+03:002016-05-13T15:58:58.689+03:00Guest Post, Author Interview & Giveaway! A Criminal Magic by Lee Kelly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">THE NIGHT CIRCUS meets THE PEAKY BLINDERS in Lee Kelly’s new crossover fantasy novel.</span></div>
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Magic is powerful, dangerous and addictive – and after passage of the 18th Amendment, it is finally illegal.</div>
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It’s 1926 in Washington, DC, and while Anti-Sorcery activists have achieved the Prohibition of sorcery, the city’s magic underworld is booming. Sorcerers cast illusions to aid mobsters’ crime sprees. Smugglers funnel magic contraband in from overseas. Gangs have established secret performance venues where patrons can lose themselves in magic, and take a mind-bending, intoxicating elixir known as the sorcerer’s shine.</div>
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Joan Kendrick, a young sorcerer from Norfolk County, Virginia accepts an offer to work for DC’s most notorious crime syndicate, the Shaw Gang, when her family’s home is repossessed. Alex Danfrey, a first-year Federal Prohibition Unit trainee with a complicated past and talents of his own, becomes tapped to go undercover and infiltrate the Shaws.</div>
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Through different paths, Joan and Alex tread deep into the violent, dangerous world of criminal magic – and when their paths cross at the Shaws’ performance venue, despite their orders, and despite themselves, Joan and Alex become enchanted with one another. But when gang alliances begin to shift, the two sorcerers are forced to question their ultimate allegiances and motivations. And soon, Joan and Alex find themselves pitted against each other in a treacherous, heady game of cat-and-mouse.</div>
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A CRIMINAL MAGIC casts a spell of magic, high stakes and intrigue against the backdrop of a very different Roaring Twenties.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Criminal-Magic-Lee-Kelly/dp/1481410334">Amazon </a><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-criminal-magic-lee-kelly/1122082220?ean=9781481410335">B&N</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/a-criminal-magic/id1003806071?mt=11">iTunes </a><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/a-criminal-magic">Kobo </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25785807-a-criminal-magic">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">What do you think is your lead character’s best trait?</span></i></b></div>
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I’d say Alex’s best trait is his ability to read people – he ends up being very good at undercover work because of his sensitivity to human interactions, emotions and experiences. And Joan’s best trait is her relentless commitment and determination – to her family at the outset, and eventually, to her work within the Shaw Gang. Ironically I guess both Joan’s and Alex’s “best traits” can also be “worst traits” given the context.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Are there any characters in your book based on a real person?</span></i></b></div>
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Not directly, I guess – though Harrison Gunn is actually named after my friend and old co-worker, who insisted that I name a character after him in this novel (so take the bad guy Harrison ☺)! Most of the characters in the book are my own creations or some kind of combination of multiple people: like Alex is sort of a combination of me and my husband, while Joan is a combination of me and my sister.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">What’s something your readers would be surprised to know about you?</span></i></b></div>
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I’m strangely superstitious, or at least I used to be. I’ve stopped most of these superstitious “rituals,” but I used to have to turn the lights off three times before leaving my apartment or I’d think I’d have a bad day, or I’d have to wear a certain pair of earrings to an interview.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Where is your favorite place to write?</span></i></b></div>
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The place I always write is the office off my bedroom, so I guess that’s my default answer. But I really enjoy writing on the second floor of my town library, Millburn Library, because of the views of the woods – and I love those moments when I’m away from my everyday life and actually get in some writing time… like my parents’ kitchen table during the holidays before anyone gets up, or on vacation while my husband and kids sleep in. It feels like I’m sneaking out on a date with my characters.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">What did you want to be when you grew up?</span></i></b></div>
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A writer – though the answer briefly changed to archeologist after I watched the Indiana Jones trilogy.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">What is your favorite book of all time?</span></i></b></div>
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I’d have to say The Phantom Tollbooth. I think the books you read as a child have a way of staying with you. </div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">Describe your writing style in three words.</span></i></b></div>
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Character-driven, otherworldly thrillers.</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red;">What is your writing process?</span></i></b></div>
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It’s evolved, for sure. Before City of Savages, I had a really hard time finishing anything: I was a perfectionist, and needed each chapter to read complete and final before I moved on to the next. But sadly, after the first twenty pages of a manuscript, I'd clam up and start worrying that I’d make a mistake. </div>
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Eventually, I realized that the only way to overcome the fear of imperfection was just to submit to it: my first drafts were going to be messy. So now I write “with a spit and a polish.” I'll initially draft a passage or a chapter really quick and messy – sometimes with just sketches of ideas – and then the next day, I usually polish the previous day's installment so it's a little more readable. But after that quick one-two, I move forward with the story without any more second-guessing.</div>
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After I’ve completed a first draft, I step away from it completely for a couple weeks. When I begin the second draft, I let that “perfectionist” sit down at the computer. Draft two is more like rewriting than revising, but that's okay, as writing is less scary when I have 85,000 or so words under my belt (even if they're the wrong words). My third draft involves input from beta readers and critique partners, followed by another fairly full-scale revision.</div>
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<b>GANGSTERS!</b></div>
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<i>Real-Life Gangsters that Inspired the Tough Guys in A CRIMINAL MAGIC</i></div>
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The pitch for my latest book, A CRIMINAL MAGIC, is THE NIGHT CIRCUS meets THE PEAKY BLINDERS, and for anyone who’s seen that twisty, violent BBC drama, you’ll know this means there’s some pretty hardened criminals in this one. My story takes place during an alternative Prohibition-era America, but instead of alcohol, magic has been prohibited. And just like during real Prohibition, gangsters have created an extensive, lucrative underworld to make sure people still get what they want, despite the letter of the law.</div>
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Because the magic in this novel is tricky and dangerous by nature, I knew I needed gangsters that weren’t just ruthless – these wise guys had to be clever, driven, and one step ahead of the sorcerers they employ in all aspects of their illegal trade. For inspiration and ideas, I naturally turned to history. Here are some of the notorious, hardnosed gangsters that most inspired me while writing A CRIMINAL MAGIC:</div>
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<b><i>Owen “Owney” Madden</i></b> was a New York gangster nicknamed “the Killer,” and aptly so as he was known for his very public executions. Madden more than once gunned down his rival gang members in the streets, and he allegedly shot a man on a trolley for flirting with his date. Despite being a hothead, he was also a shrewd businessman, and ran The Cotton Club (as well as some other swanky speakeasies) in New York City. In my novel, Erwin McEvoy, the boss of the Irish Shaw Gang, is loosely based on Madden (with a little Boo Boo Hoff thrown in there too. Boo Boo’s up next).</div>
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I have to admit, I was first attracted to <b><i>Max “Boo Boo” Hoff</i></b> because of his name, but the more I read about this Philly-based crime boss, the more fascinated I became. Hoff was a boxer turned gangster, and his bootlegging operation was so successful during Prohibition, it’s claimed he had an office of operations with 175 phones and a weekly payroll of $30,000 (in the 1920s)! Also known for his partying and extravagant lifestyle, Hoff frequently rubbed shoulders with celebrity types at his lavish affairs.</div>
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Also intriguing was <b><i>Guiseppe “Joe the Boss” Masseria</i></b>, the head of the New York Italian-American mafia – the city’s powerful crime alliance known as the Five Families – during the later years of Prohibition. But Masseria was a bit of an underworld dictator: he even required monetary tributes from other Families as testaments of their loyalty. His reign naturally didn’t last: several families declared war on Masseria, which broke up the crime dynasty and led to his execution. I loosely based my novel’s Italian-American gang, the D Street Outfit, on Masseria’s New York operation.</div>
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And of course, no list of Prohibition-era gangsters would be complete without <b><i>Al Capone</i></b>. Though my novel’s young gangster-on-the-rise, Harrison Gunn, is actually nothing like media-hungry Capone was, I couldn’t believe that Capone was at the height of his power and became a Chicago crime boss in his mid-twenties. So I made Gunn younger (originally he was going to be middle-aged), to help rev up the tension between him and my female protagonist, Joan.</div>
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<i>Lee Kelly is the author of A CRIMINAL MAGIC and CITY OF SAVAGES. She has wanted to write since she was old enough to hold a pencil, but it wasn’t until she began studying for the California Bar Exam that she conveniently started putting pen to paper. An entertainment lawyer by trade, Lee has practiced in Los Angeles and New York. She lives with her husband and two children in Millburn, New Jersey. Follow her on Twitter at @leeykelly and on her website at NewWriteCity.com. </i></div>
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Lee Kelly has wanted to write since she was old enough to hold a pencil, but it wasn’t until she began studying for the California Bar Exam that she conveniently started putting pen to paper. An entertainment lawyer by trade, Lee has practiced law in Los Angeles and New York. She lives with her husband and children in Millburn, New Jersey, though after a decade in Manhattan, she can’t help but still call herself a New Yorker. She is the author of A Criminal Magic and City of Savages. Visit her at <a href="http://www.newwritecity.com/">www.NewWriteCity.com</a>.</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-27042289062019019052016-05-13T15:10:00.000+03:002016-05-13T15:11:01.449+03:00Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway! Cloaked in Blood, The Wulfkin Legacy #3 by T.F. Walsh<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The daughter of a sultan alpha, Selena Kurt agrees to an arranged wulfkin mating to protect her sister from a dangerous alpha from the enemy clan. To her surprise, her match is Marcin Ulf, the next in line for the Hungarian throne . . . and the wulfkin who broke her heart years ago.</span></div>
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Marcin is just as shocked to learn he'll be matched to the enemy's daughter and the woman he's never forgotten. Before they can be paired, however, they're drawn into a tournament where Marcin will compete to free his estranged imprisoned brother, while Selena battles for the life of another wulfkin alpha. Both intend to seize this chance to save those they're fighting for - even if it means facing off with one another just as their romance rekindles.</div>
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Will tribe loyalty triumph, or will they realize they're better off as a team before it's too late?</div>
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<b><i>Cloaked in Blood is the book 3 in the Wulfkin Legacy series, but can be read a stand-alone-book.</i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cloaked-Blood-Wulfkin-Legacy-Walsh-ebook/dp/B01E0JR270">Amazon </a><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cloaked-in-blood-tf-walsh/1123653539?ean=9781440597374">B&N</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/cloaked-in-blood-1">Kobo </a><a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/T_F_Walsh_Cloaked_in_Blood?id=Ny_wCwAAQBAJ">Google Play </a><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/cloaked-in-blood/id1101895869?mt=11">iTunes </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29742394-cloaked-in-blood">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i>MARCIN</i></b></div>
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The maids fluttered out of my chamber and shut the door behind them. Selena appeared in the bathroom doorway, the sleeves of her shirt pushed up to her elbows. “You’ll have to take your boxers off.”</div>
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“How can I resist when you put it like that?” I pushed myself to my feet and hobbled toward her. My attention fell on the porcelain bathtub on silver feet that Father insisted on fitting in all the bathrooms, despite having no plumbing in half the castle. Leaning against the open door, I dropped my boxers and kicked them aside as Selena sprinkled what looked like dried herbs into the half-filled tub and mixed them into the water with one hand.</div>
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“Soak your leg and keep your foot submerged for at least an hour. I’ll get the girls to keep topping up the warm water.” When she turned around, her gaze dipped and her cheeks glowed.</div>
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“You’re blushing?” I asked.</div>
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“No, I’m not.” She spun around to the bathtub.</div>
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Warmth spread through my gut, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Can I get some help with this?”</div>
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She offered me a hand.</div>
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I limped closer and leaned on her outstretched arm as I climbed into the tub; the water was scorching hot. In slow motion, I lowered myself into its burning cocoon, my injured leg submerging last. The heat swathed my foot, the wound stinging as if a fresh blade sliced it back open. I clasped the edge of the tub, waiting for the pain to ease.</div>
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Selena’s fingers caressed my shin, softly kneading away the pain. Then she broke into a hum, the sound sweet and calming.</div>
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Leaning back against the tub, I closed my eyes and focused on the softness of her voice. “You have magical fingers.”</div>
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She continued her tune and gently massaged my leg. The strange cocktail of my foot throbbing, Selena’s tranquil song, and the ease with which her fingers glided over my skin left me strangely relaxed and maybe a bit turned on. Okay, a lot. “With each stroke, my muscles flexed, and my inner wolf stirred inside. Take her, claim her. She’s ours.</div>
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Well, not sure Selena would agree.</div>
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T.F. Walsh emigrated from Romania to Australia at the age of eight and now lives in a regional city south of Sydney with her husband. Growing up hearing dark fairytales, she's always had a passion for reading and writing horror, paranormal romance, urban fantasy and young adult stories. She balances all the dark with light fluffy stuff like baking and traveling.</div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600041533579718514.post-67840424878147246522016-05-13T10:12:00.000+03:002016-05-13T10:12:34.588+03:00Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway! Thin Lies, Donati Bloodlines #1 by Bethany-Kris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Calisto Donati</b></i></span></div>
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She was just a woman. That’s what Calisto wanted to tell himself; that’s what he wanted to believe. Emma was nothing more than a woman. There were other women for him to want. To obsess over.</div>
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It couldn’t be Emma Sorrento.</div>
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Not for Calisto.</div>
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She was taken.</div>
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She was claimed.</div>
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She was not his.</div>
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In a few days, Calisto would hand her off, and that would be that. He wondered why it wouldn’t be that easy to let her go. </div>
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What good had saving her done?</div>
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He had simply taken her from one monster to give her to another.</div>
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<b><i>Emma Sorrento</i></b></div>
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Emma slid on her mask. All someone would need to do was look close enough to see what was really beneath the sheer falseness of her smile.</div>
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At the other end of the table, Emma found her lies staring her right in the face.</div>
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He smirked.</div>
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And winked.</div>
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Calisto Donati was her worst mistake, her greatest shame, and the one thing she still wanted more than anything. Emma could still feel him all over her, long after his touch and kiss was gone. In thirty days, her entire world had changed—he had changed her.</div>
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Emma had a feeling that if she played another game with Calisto, she would surely lose.</div>
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She had already lost once.</div>
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Wasn’t it enough?</div>
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<b><i>WARNING: The first two books in the Donati Bloodlines Trilogy end on a cliffhanger, and are not considered safe romance.</i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thin-Lies-Donati-Bloodlines-Book-ebook/dp/B01E04RY2S/">Amazon </a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28868542-thin-lies">Goodreads</a></span></i></b></div>
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“It does hurt me,” Calisto said before he could stop himself. </div>
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He wanted to take the words back immediately. </div>
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Emma stilled in the passenger seat. “Then why play?” </div>
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<i>To remember. </i></div>
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<i>To punish himself. </i></div>
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<i>To apologize. </i></div>
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“For a lot of different reasons,” Calisto settled on saying. “But tonight, I played so that you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t seem comfortable. I didn’t think you wanted to have everyone looking at you after what happened. It was a small sacrifice.” </div>
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“But you hurt now,” she said, seeming confused. “Don’t you?” </div>
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“But you didn’t have to.” </div>
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For Calisto, that was all that mattered. </div>
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Turning his head, Calisto stared out the opened driver’s window. He wondered if anyone had noticed that both he and Emma had left the dinner party without a goodbye. He supposed it didn’t make a difference. </div>
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Calisto didn’t mind Emma’s presence disturbing his peace, either. </div>
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“Calisto?” Emma asked softly. </div>
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“Hmm?” </div>
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Her hand rested on his thigh, and Calisto jerked in the seat at the innocent touch. The problem was, her touch couldn’t be innocent at all. Not with the way he currently felt, the things he had done, or the lines he had already crossed with a mighty “fuck you.” He hadn’t been expecting it, and he didn’t even hear Emma move in her seat. </div>
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Calisto barely had the chance to spin around and face Emma again before her mouth pressed against his. It was soft at first, smooth like her plump lips, and then her fingers dug into his leg like she was demanding something from him. </div>
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He didn’t know what it was. </div>
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Instinctively, Calisto wanted to push her away. He wanted to kiss her back, too. The crazy side of his brain won, the side that listened to his selfish wants and not his needs. </div>
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Or maybe he needed it, too. </div>
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Calisto didn’t know. </div>
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But he did grab onto Emma’s dress. He fisted the fabric around his taut knuckles, and pulled her a little closer. His tongue swept the seam of her lips, wanting more, needing to be deeper, seeking her heat and taste. </div>
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A little wouldn’t hurt, right? </div>
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Just a little more. </div>
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Emma sighed a sweet sound, giving into his unspoken demand by parting her lips. Calisto took the offering for what it was, kissed her harder, and let his tongue war with hers until she was gasping for air. Pulling away enough to catch a breath, Emma tipped her head up and hummed. </div>
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Calisto couldn’t help himself but lean forward and kiss her chin. </div>
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He was fucking stupid. </div>
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Why did she make him so stupid? </div>
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“I should go in and say goodbye,” he heard Emma say. </div>
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Calisto was too distracted by the flimsy fabric of her dress in his hands. A little pull with just enough strength and he knew that the dress would rip. She was close, and he could grab her around the waist before pulling her into the backseat. </div>
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The windows were tinted. </div>
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No one would see. </div>
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A little more wouldn’t hurt. </div>
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Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.</div>
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To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: <a href="http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD">http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD</a></div>
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Mihaelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05466792194765572646noreply@blogger.com0