Excerpt & Giveaway! Before Goodbye by Mimi Cross

Music means more than anything to high school student Cate Reese; it’s also what unites her with Cal Woods. Devoted classical guitar players, Cate and Cal are childhood friends newly smitten by love—until a devastating car accident rips Cal out of Cate’s life forever. Blaming herself for the horrific tragedy and struggling to surface from her despair, Cate spirals downhill in a desperate attempt to ease her pain.

Fellow student David Bennet might look like the school’s golden boy, but underneath the surface the popular athlete battles demons of his own. Racked with survivor’s guilt after his brother’s suicide, things get worse when tragedy darkens his world again—but connecting with Cate, his sister’s longtime babysitter, starts bringing the light back in.

As Cate and David grow closer, the two shattered teenagers learn to examine the pieces of their lives…and, together, find a way to be whole again.

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***

CATE

“We need,” Mom says, “to nudge the Arts Council.” (Or something to that effect.)

Dad sighs. Or shakes his head. Or mutters a response.
Mom briefly replies. Or applies mascara. Or blots her lipstick. Their eyes meet in the mirror above the table in the hall.
This is the daily ritual.
Dad asks why she can’t catch the last ferry, why she has to stay

over in New York. Mom lists the reasons. The list shall not exceed the amount of time it takes to finish applying her makeup. After that, no matter what Dad’s saying, she’s out the door.

Often, there will be a last-minute skirmish, with bags or a coat, gloves or an umbrella. There will most likely be keys involved. House keys. Car keys. Today it is the latter.

“Shit!” The daily ritual is by no means silent. “Cate? Do you have my car keys?”

“Why would I have your car keys? I don’t even have my license yet, remember?”

“Damn. We have to deal with that.”

“Yeah we do, we’re not in Manhattan anymore. Or at least, I’m not.”

Mom blinks a few times, fast. “Catherine. You and your father had all summer—” She cuts herself off. Cuts us all off, whenever she can.

Dad clears his throat, but he doesn’t stand a chance. He hasn’t had his coffee yet. Mom’s had a pot. And even if he matched her cup for cup, Dad’s nocturnal. He paints all night.

Dad’s in a hurl-paint-at-the-canvas phase. He’s like Jackson Pollock, maybe with bigger issues. Sometimes when I go into the barn, he’s standing in front of the giant easel he’s rigged up and doesn’t even know I’m there. Sometimes he does, and we have a sort of conversation.

“Are you coming in for dinner?” Daub, daub, brushstroke.
“I’m buying.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Splat.

Other times he’ll turn away from the canvas and actually look at me. Although it’s more like he’s looking through me. That’s him in work mode.

At that point, I might repeat the question, but more likely, I’ll give up and leave.

Occasionally, when I’m at the door, he’ll have one last thing to say. Like,

“Ah.” Swish.

I’ll turn at the sound— and find the canvas transformed. Something light made dark by lines of black. Something pleasing turned terrifying by a dripping arc of red, as if the painting has suddenly begun to bleed.

Dad’s paintings are beautiful and frightening. They sell for a lot, which is good and bad. Mom says that while his work is selling so well he’ll never slow down. But Dad will never slow down, period. Painting’s what keeps him alive. I’m not sure how I know this.

If I want to stay clear of Dad, I stay out of the barn. Avoiding Mom during the mayhem of her morning routine? Is trickier, but necessary.

Talking to my mother at this time, even to tell her the whereabouts of the item she’s seeking, is to risk getting caught in the cross fire of clicking heels and verbal abuse. It’s basically volunteering to be a target for her double-barreled gun of criticism and blame.

Dad’s moods can be equally turbulent, but he mitigates his mercu- rial personality with art. Colors it with oils and acrylics. On the days he doesn’t paint, it just depends. Is he excited about a new idea? Did he get the grant he applied for? The gallery exhibit he wanted?

Dad has works in the permanent collections of MoMA, the Whitney, and the Guggenheim. But that isn’t enough, will never be enough. There is no “enough” when it comes to art, apparently, which is why it scares me. That and it’s messy.

I love Dad’s paintings though, and I love Dad. He loves me. But his veins are filled with paint instead of blood, and if I asked him what he loves about me? What he loves about Mom? He wouldn’t be able to tell me. He’d have to paint a picture.

He might make a sketch first. Or scribble a list, the way I do, to get my thoughts lined up.

Dad’s love list would be a visceral thing: Heart. Soul. Love pump. Playground. Scarlet. Vermilion. Crimson. Red.
Apples. Temptation. Strawberries. Rhubarb. Cherries. Compassion. Garnets. Bed. Rubies. Pearls. Pearls.

Don’t cast your pearls before swine, Cate.
Splat.
Now I watch him and my mother for a minute longer, wondering

how Dad would even know if I were casting my pearls.
The answer is, unless my pearl casting was connected in some way

to one of his pieces, he wouldn’t. And neither would Mom. It’s not surprising that they have no idea today is the first day of school.

***

Mimi Cross was born in Toronto, Canada. She received a master's degree from New York University and a bachelor's degree in music from Ithaca College. She has been a performer, a music educator, and a yoga instructor. During the course of her musical career, she's shared the bill with artists such as Bruce Springsteen, Jon Bon Jovi, and Sting. She resides in New Jersey.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Walking Heartbreak by Sunniva Dee

Don’t judge me.

I am not what you see.

I am the opposite.

—Nadia’s lipstick note on Bo’s mirror.

Indie-rocker Bo Lindgren is worshiped for his looks and musical genius. It’s been lonely at the top since his ex left. Bo will never take a girlfriend again though, because he doesn’t have the chops to love. He knows he’s poison, a heartbreak waiting to happen for anyone he allows too close—like his ex. Bo screws his way through the fangirls until he’s sick of it all. Until the dark gaze of Nadia Vidal appears in the door to his dressing room.

Saved from an arranged marriage by Jude, the love of her life, Nadia eloped and got married at nineteen. But now, two years later, life is wilted, dead, and not what anyone should have to endure.

Nadia, with her secret-keeper eyes and instant understanding of who Bo is, attracts and fascinates him without even trying. The ring gleaming on her finger should keep them apart, but morals can’t always resist destiny.

When brokenhearted meets heartbreaker, whose heart is really at stake?

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~*~

The door flies open the way it always does in dressing rooms during Clown Irruption concerts. First in comes Emil. He’s long-distance-fighting with Zoe on the phone, brows drawn and trying to explain that he has been in the air or in airports all this time. Next, comes Troll, rumbling out, “Ready? We’re going straight from sound-check to doors.”

Emil scoffs, covering his ear against the tour manager. “Zee. I told you I wanted you to come along, and no, I’m not going to sleep with all of Nadia’s cousins.”

Bo snickers.

“What?” Emil presses the phone against his ear. “Of course I didn’t manage on the first try—I was chasing a moving target. You have to stay still. You can’t wiggle your butt when I’m trying to get in, Zoay.”

“TMI?” Bo suggests. I nod, feeling a blush spreading at their typical indiscretion.

“Okay, next time I’ll just buy some rope and shit,” Emil says, “and just bondage you all up. That way you can’t wiggle away. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Geez,” Elias mutters. “Everyone, get a room. Romance so thick in here I’m about to puke.”

Emil stuffs a finger in his ear. “No, it won’t help if you tie me down. And no, I’m pretty sure you tried to break my wiener. That’d ruin all the fun, now, wouldn’t it? Really? You don’t think so?”

“This was our room,” Bo replies to Elias. “Why didn’t you stay next door?”

“Because Emil was in there fighting with Zoe.”

“But now he’s here.”

“Yeah, there’s no peace anywhere.” Troll pops a piece of cheese in his mouth and hands Elias a bottle of water. “Here. Now, head in the game. Grab your instruments and get out there. Sound. Check.”

~*~

Sunniva was born in Norway, the Land of The Midnight Sun, but spent her early twenties making the world her playground. Southern Europe: Spain, Italy, Greece—Argentina: Buenos Aires, in particular. The United States finally kept her interest, and after half a decade in California, she now lounges in the beautiful city of Savannah. Sunniva has a Master's degree in Spanish, which she taught until she settled in as an adviser at an art college in the South.

Sunniva writes New Adult fiction with soul. Sometimes it's with a paranormal twist, like in Shattering Halos, Stargazer, and Cat Love. At other times, it's contemporary, as in Pandora Wild Child, Leon's Way, Adrenaline Crush, and now Walking Heartbreak.

Sunniva is the happiest when her characters take over, let their emotions run off with them, shaping her stories in ways she never foresaw. She loves bad-boys and good-boys run amok, and like in real life, her goal is to keep you on your toes until the end of each story.

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Excerpt, Author Interview & Giveaway! House Of Royals, House Of Royals #1 by Keary Taylor

If you loved BRANDED, you won’t want to miss HOUSE OF ROYALS, Keary Taylor’s newest dark, romantic read.

Every town has its history and skeletons, but Silent Bend, Mississippi’s are darker than most. Ruled from the shadows by the House—the immortal Born and their aging, enslaved Bitten—everyone knows not to go out after dark and that the police will never look into crimes involving blood.

Alivia Ryan didn’t know the man who claims to be her father through a will even existed until she inherits the Conrath plantation. Instead of the sleepy house she expects, she finds a mansion and a staff who look at her with fear in their eyes.

Ian Ward tried to kill Alivia the first time they met, and then insisted he train her to defend herself against the House, who he claims will try to manipulate and take her in for their own political reasons. And the growing attraction between them will threaten their lives—Ian is a sworn enemy of the House.

In Silent Bend, people disappear, the threat of a demented King and the legend of his resurrecting Queen hang over everyone’s heads, and proving loyalty means far more than blood. You’d better watch who you trust in this town…

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~*~

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, pulling me close. His lips tickle my ear. His hand on my waist slips low and his fingers dig into my skin just a little.

The breath catches in my chest and every nerve ending in my body goes crazy. The music surges, and this night suddenly feels too big for me to breathe. 

“I’m not lying down and taking a fate I didn’t ask for,” I manage. My fingers cling hard to Ian’s shoulder. I can feel the muscles beneath his clothes tense and tighten. And suddenly, I’m back to the days at his cabin, when he’d come walking out of the shower with only a towel and I pretended not to look. I know what his bare skin looks like, and I’m craving another glimpse.

“They won’t care about a show of good faith,” he says. “Do you have any idea what this party is even for?”

My silence is his answer.

“They throw this party once a year and offer massive amounts of alcohol so that people won’t remember the blackouts that come from being fed on.”

My eyes dart to that door at the back of the room. The blood on the woman’s shoulder. The blood in the corner of the man’s mouth.

“They’re feeding on the party attendees,” I say.

Ian nods. His scratchy cheek brushes mine. “The bite numbs and makes you forget, but people tend to realize they blacked out. A party like this with this much booze, you brush it off. It’s the one time a year they feed freely upon the townspeople. It’s the only way to keep people from asking too many questions.”

It’s terrifying and horrifying, and I’m suddenly wondering if the man was asking me to dance as my turn to be fed upon.

“It’s bad, but I have to do something, Ian,” I breathe.

“Walking into the fire isn’t the way to do it,” he whispers into my ear.

~*~

Please tell us a little about yourself.

I’m Keary Taylor, and I’ve been self-publishing since early 2010. Since then I’ve released 15 titles and I’m loving every bit of this industry! I write in a few different genres, but paranormal seems to be my most loved. I currently live in Utah and spend my summers on a little island in Washington State with my husband and our two kids! I love traveling, jamming out to music, and have the sugar taste buds of a four year old!

Tell us about your latest book, HOUSE OF ROYALS.

This has been such a fun series to write! Alivia comes to live in Mississippi after a father she didn’t know leaves her his massive estate. She arrives to find a town that’s terrified of the dark and her very last name brings all kinds of fear to their eyes. She’s about to learn of a completely hidden monarchy where the politics get bloody and deadly.

Where did you get the inspiration for HOUSE OF ROYALS?

This story actually evolved from a very different one that I had been trying to write for three years. It was similarly set in the South, in a sleepy, creepy town, but the supernatural basis for it was voodoo. I did a lot of weird research, had massive outlines, but every time I worked on it, I had to stop for one reason or another. I just couldn’t write that version of the story. I joke and say it has a curse on it, but I’m not really joking… One day the thought just popped into my head that vampires would totally fit into this town instead, and the rough monarchy I’d been setting up in the original version worked even better in the vampire version! And House of Royals just poured out of me.

What celebrity would you chose to play the main character(s) in the movie rendition of your book?

I would have Lily Collins play Alivia Ryan. She totally fits the soft, shy girl Alivia starts out as, but captures the hidden wolf within. Ian Ward would be played by Liam Hemsworth (I know, this surprised me too, I’m a hardcore Chris loyalist). And Rath would be none other than Lenny Kravitz!

What do you have coming out in the future?

I’m plowing through this series! Book two, HOUSE OF PAWNS releases December 15th, and then book three, HOUSE OF KINGS, comes out in March of 2016. And the series will continue in the fall!

Keary Taylor grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she started creating imaginary worlds and daring characters who always fell in love. She now resides on a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their two young children. She continues to have an overactive imagination that frequently keeps her up at night. She is the author of THE EDEN TRILOGY, the FALL OF ANGELS trilogy, and WHAT I DIDN'T SAY. To learn more about Keary and her writing process, please visit www.KearyTaylor.com.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Scrubs by Brooke Harris

I like fast cars, beautiful women and great sex.

I hate drugs. I can’t stand the idiots who take them and I loathe the bastards who supply them. Drugs cost me my whole world.

I wear many faces; right now I’m Doctor Lucas Callaghan and I’ll be him until I get my revenge.

My real name will be the last words to ever pass their lips.

I hate my name, Aoife Brennan, as soon as people hear it they treat me differently because of my father.

Medical school isn’t my dream, it’s his. But, it’s the least I owe him after everything I’ve done. I’m trying to be a good girl, but even good girls make mistakes.

He’s lying about who he is, she’s kidding herself about who she can be. They’re polar opposites with one very big secret in common.

~*~

I follow him to the front door. We both stand in the hall for longer than necessary. I don’t offer to let him out, even though I know I should. But I want him to kiss me again. I want so much more than I know I can have. 

He reaches for the doorknob. He’s going to let himself out. God, I don’t want him to go. Not like this.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, finally breaking the silence. 

‘For what?’ 

‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

‘And I shouldn’t have kissed you back.’

He’s smiling. And for the first time since we met, the cloud of sadness that usually rests in the corner of his eyes is absent. 

‘Are we okay, then?’ I stutter. 

‘You mean am I going to tell anyone about this?’

‘Well, yeah?’

‘No, Aoife. No, I’m not. I’m as much to blame as you are. Probably more so because I should know better.’

‘I’m not a child, Lucas. I do understand the word no.’

He looks at me as if he wants to rip my clothes off. I kind of wish he would. I take a deep breath. 

‘If you kissed me again, I wouldn’t say no this time either,’ I say.

My teeth clamp against my bottom lip. I can’t believe I said that out loud. But all I can think about is how good his lips felt on mine and how much I want to feel them again. Kiss me, Lucas. Kiss me.

As if he reads my mind, Lucas’ hands grip my waist. One hand just above each hip, cementing me to the spot. His eyes focus on mine with such intensity, it burns. 

‘You should say no, Aoife. You should run a mile from me.’

‘Why? Because you loved someone and losing them has fucked with your head?’

His eyes narrow, and his grip on my waist tightens almost to the point of hurting. I know it’s a flash of temper. This man is the nearest thing to a stranger to me. He could lose it completely and really hurt me, but I know he won’t. I trust him as I’ve never really trusted anyone before. 

‘No. Because you don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.’

‘Then show me.’

‘Be careful what you wish for.’

‘I’ve already seen what you’re capable of. I’ve seen how much you care about people, but you try to hide that under a layer of fancy talk and cocky attitude.’

He forces me backwards, his hands still on my waist. I make a weird noise that I haven’t heard before as my back collides with the wall behind me, slapping the air out of my chest. 

‘Don’t go there, Doctor Brennan. You’re not a psychology student.’

‘No. I’m just the girl you kissed. The girl who is still standing in front of you ten minutes later and waiting for you to do it again.’

~*~

USA Today bestselling author Brooke Harris is a self diagnosed romance addict. Realising at the age of seven that being a real person and not a cartoon character may prove a hindrance when applying for a role as a Disney Princess, she decided to create her own stories. As a grown up Brooke tried swapping the heels and tiaras in her stories for sex and revenge and published her first book, Rules of Harte in 2014. The Harte Series went on to become a #1 international bestseller.

Brooke lives in Kildare, Ireland with her young family. She daydreams about a climate where it doesn’t rain every day, but secretly she loves the green fields and heritage of Ireland.

Brooke also writes Psych-thriller under the pseudonym Janelle Harris.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! The Witching Hour Collection

Good witch. Bad witch. White magic. Black magic. Kitchen magic. Pick your potion. Ready for Halloween? The authors of the Blazing Indie Collective, who brought you the Falling in Deep Collection, are brewing up something new. Check out all the novellas in The Witching Hour Collection coming October 2015:

Melanie Karsak: Witch Wood

Claire C. Riley: Raven's Cove

Eli Constant: Sleeping in the Forest of Shadows

Elizabeth Watasin: Charm School: The Wrecking Faerie 

Erin Hayes: I'd Rather be a Witch 

Carrie Wells: Playing with Magic 

Evan Winters: The Witch of Bracken’s Hollow 

Minerva Lee: Spun Gold 

Blaire Edens: The Witch of Roan Mountain 

Poppy Lawless: The Cupcake Witch

Limited edition box set! 

This collection will be available until the end of the year only! 

Buy Links: 

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~*~ 

Excerpt from The Cupcake Witch by Poppy Lawless 

HOLDING THE WHISK TIGHTLY, I swirled the pale-yellow batter around the bowl, the sweet scents of vanilla, brown sugar, and bitter dark chocolate perfuming the air. Even though it was a cool autumn morning, the heat from the oven made the kitchen feel toasty warm. I’d been baking all morning: expresso mini cupcakes with cappuccino flavored frosting, matcha green tea macaroons, and strawberry rhubarb coffee cake. The kitchen smelled divine. Now, with a pot of coffee brewing and a batch of chocolate chip walnut cookies just about ready to go into the oven, I could almost relax. 

“Here, taste this,” I said to Dad, scooping up a small bite of the dough with a spoon and sticking it into his mouth before he could protest. 

“You’re going to give me salmonella poisoning,” he said then sighed deeply. “A little food poisoning is worth it. So good, but they taste…different.” 

“Bad different?” 

Dad shook his head. “Tasty different.” 

“Organic brown sugar and sea salt.” 

“I’m going to gain ten pounds before you go back to college next week,” he said with a laugh then turned back to his paperwork. 

Sighing, I placed the cookie dough on the baking sheet and stuck it in the oven. How was I going to tell Dad I wasn’t planning on going back? With Mom gone…well, I just didn’t even know why I was there anymore. It wasn’t like I had ever wanted to go to college. I wanted to be a baker. But Mom wanted me to be a dentist, so I was studying pre-dentistry. Now, Mom was gone. The pain of her loss still felt like a huge lump in my chest. 

I poured Dad and myself coffee and sat down at the table. He was thumbing through a heap of real estate briefs. Dayton Real Estate was busier than ever, and with Mom gone, an agent short. Dad was running himself ragged. 

I spooned some raw sugar into my cup and tried to think of something to say other than the fact that I hated school. It was nearly the end of October and thus far junior year had been a bust. I told Dad I wasn’t ready. After losing Mom that summer, I just couldn’t get my head back into the game. I didn’t want to waste my life pursuing a career in dentistry just because everyone, but especially Mom, thought it would be a good move for a smart girl like me. Mom’s death had taught me many things, the most important being that life was short. Why was I working so hard for a future I felt pretty apathetic about? 

“Here is the property in Chancellor I was telling you about,” Dad said, saving me from having the dreaded conversation once more, as he handed me an envelope. From inside, I pulled out a yellowed photograph of a tiny little Tudor-style cottage. Under the photo, the words Serendipity Gardens had been written in faded pencil. 

“It looks like a witch’s cottage. Mrs. Aster, the woman who left us the building…how did you say we were related again?” I stared at the photograph as I twirled one red dreadlock around my finger. The little building was a mess, the glass nursery overgrown, but there was something quaint, almost fairy tale like, about it. 

Dad was eyeing the table full of sweets, finally settling on one of the mini cupcakes, popping it into his mouth. “These are amazing, Julie. Seriously,” he said after a moment. “Mrs. Aster was Grandma Belle’s husband’s sister.” 

“And how does that make her related to us?” 

“Through marriage only, but we are her closest living relatives,” Dad said then shrugged. “I’ve got the property into the MLS system, but I need to run over to Chancellor this week and put up the signs. Probably won’t be hard to move the old place. I already have a message—which I haven’t even managed to return yet—from Blushing Grape Vineyards inquiring on the property. Need to get that sign up, see if I can fish any other bids out of the pond. Maybe the college will want the property, turn it into an office or something. On the corner of Main Street and Magnolia, the location is great. We’ll probably get a good price if we can get some competition,” Dad said then paused. He looked up at me, a serious expression on his face. “You know, Chancellor College offers science degrees. Jules, I know you aren’t happy…” he began then stopped. Trying again, he switched directions by saying, “Maybe if you were closer to home, things might be easier.” 

Panicking, I picked up the envelope. “Chancellor, eh? Don’t they have a harvest festival at this time of year? Why don’t I take the signs over? I’ll grab a pumpkin spice latte or something.” 

My dad pushed his glasses back up his nose then ran his hand through his hair. Was it my imagination or did his hair look whiter? His face was certainly more drawn. He must have shed twenty pounds from his already thin frame. Mom’s death had hit us both hard. It was just manifesting differently. Dad was running thin, and I was running scared. I didn’t want to waste my life following the dream Mom had lain out so neatly for me. My real passion had always lain in the kitchen. Fondant. Buttercream. Meringue. Ever since I got my first Easy-Bake Oven, I knew what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be. My dream, however, had never jelled with what Mom had wanted. And as much as it hurt, Mom was gone. I could keep going to college for her, but that didn’t feel right. I needed to do something. Something needed to change. And in the meantime, I was failing my classes. 

“Walk around the campus while you’re there. Check out its vibe. See if you like it.” 

“Or not,” I said absently. The last thing I wanted was more college: more homework I couldn’t get myself to complete, more classes I couldn’t get myself to go to, more anything. 

“You know, they also have a culinary program,” my dad said carefully. “A letter came from your college’s advising office. It said you’re failing all—” 

“I…I know,” I stammered, standing. “Can we talk about it tonight?” 

He nodded. “I love you. We’re both just trying to manage here.” He lifted a macaroon then looked from it to me. “The culinary program. Mom and I always disagreed...tonight, let’s talk. But you’re making dinner.” 

“Of course. It’s pizza night! I bought portabella mushrooms, arugula, and goat cheese.” 

“You had me at portabella,” Dad said with a chuckle. “Anything would be better than those damned frozen dinners.” 

“Dad! You can’t eat that garbage.” 

He shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t have time to cook. Speaking of which, did you know it only takes five weeks to get a real estate license? Without your mom, I could use the extra help,” he said then patted the massive stack of inspection reports, loan documents, and other paperwork that was my dad’s—and had been my mom’s—life’s work, “and a home cooked meal, on occasion.” 

I picked up the envelope then kissed my dad on his balding head. “Home cooked meals I can handle.” 

My dad patted my hand. 

“Take the cookies out when the timer goes off?” 

“Of course. I’d never let a Julie Dayton cookie burn. Too precious a commodity.” 

I wrapped my arms around my dad and hugged him tight. 

“Love you,” I said. 

“Love you too, Julie bean,” he replied. 

Letting him go, I grabbed my purse and keys and headed off to the witch’s cottage.

~*~

The Authors

Melanie Karsak Carrie Wells Claire C. Riley Elizabeth Watasin

Eli Constant Poppy Lawless Blaire Edens Erin Hayes

Evan Winters Minerva Lee

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Release Day Blitz & Giveaway!A Very Daring Christmas, Tavonesi #8 by Pamela Aares

In A Very Daring Christmas, USA Today Bestselling author Pamela Aares' newest book in the Tavonesi Series, an invitation to join his teammate for Christmas throws sports phenom Jake Ryder straight into the path of Hollywood sensation Cameron Kelley, the one woman he's fighting to forget. ~ Sensual, intoxicating characters that will steal your heart! ~ (Rachael Herron).

When Cameron Kelly agreed to leverage her status as a Hollywood A-list movie star to help children in Dominia, nothing prepared her for the unthinkable poverty in the remote villages. Nor did she expect to run into a major league baseball star who shocks loose her pent-up desires. The next man she lets anywhere close to her heart will be a normal guy, not a celebrity, and certainly not a cocky All-Star. Yet when she sees the sexy athlete coaching the local kids in a makeshift sandlot, her heart and her body stop listening to her head. Flying high after winning the World Series, Jake Ryder is in the Caribbean to rehab his season-sore body and coach village children who are crazy about baseball. Running into Cameron, though, may send him packing. The heat sparking between the two of them has him rethinking his Three-Date Rule, something he swore he'd never do. And when she tries to manipulate him into a publicity stunt to fund her UNICAN project, he decides it’s game over. He's been used too many times and won't be used again. A surprise invitation to Trovare Castle throws them together once more. A mysterious prince and a fatherless boy complicate their already tense reunion, but they soon discover that the greatest dare is the one that leads to true love.

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Pamela Aares is an award-winning, internationally bestselling author of contemporary and historical romance novels and also writes about fictional romance in sports with her new Tavonesi Series. Get ready for Alpha male All-Stars and the strong women they come to love! Her popularity as a romance writer continues to grow with each new book release, so much so, that the Bay area author has drawn comparisons by readers and reviewers to Nora Roberts. Pamela Aares writes romance books that she loves reading, particularly those that entertain, transport and inspire dreams while captivating and tugging at the heart. She takes her readers on a journey with complex characters in both contemporary and historical settings who are thrown in situations that tempt love, adventure and self-discovery. Before becoming a romance author, Aares wrote and produced award-winning films including Your Water, Your Life, featuring actress Susan Sarandon and NPR series New Voices, The Powers of the Universe and The Earth’s Imagination. She holds a Master’s degree from Harvard and currently resides in the wine country of Northern California with her husband, a former MLB All-Star and two curious cats. If not behind her computer, you can probably find her reading a romance novel, hiking the beach or savoring life with friends. You can visit Pamela on the web at http://www.PamelaAares.com

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Love Found by Caylie Marcoe

Haley Cavanaugh’s heart is broken.

Shattered into a million pieces, and that’s just how she’d like it to stay.

She doesn’t believe she deserves happiness. She doesn’t understand how to move on while her life is falling apart and her reality is destroyed.

Enter Eli Park.

Eli is someone Haley thought she knew, but who turned out to be so much more than she remembered. He sees through her pain and refuses to be pushed away, even when she lashes out.

Eli’s patience is both frustrating and surprising. Haley was so sure she wanted to go on feeling nothing, but Eli stirs emotions she can’t deny.

Will Haley allow Eli to help her through this horrific time so she can find herself again? Or will she lose the only person who can help heal her heart?

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~*~

I swung back and forth for a while, letting the breeze settle my nerves. I don’t know how long I was out there for, but eventually, I heard a car pull up. The door shut and footsteps thumped up the stairs. 

“Hello,” a masculine voice drifted towards me. 

I opened my eyes and was greeted with crystal blue eyes, messy brown hair, a lopsided smirk and six feet of tall, lean man. 

“Er…um…hi,” I croaked out. Okay…the man was gorgeous. Pretty sure I was blushing.

“Haley?” gorgeous mystery man asked. 

I nodded. I didn’t know who this guy was, but he seemed to know me. And if I opened my mouth to ask him, I’m sure I would sound like an idiot again. 

He gave me that adorable lopsided grin again. “Eli.” He pointed at himself, like I should know who he was. Eli was leaning against the porch railing, staring at me with amusement in his eyes. Maybe if he wasn’t so damn attractive I could get my brain to start working again. But for now, I could only stare. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked. “The four of us hung out together when I roomed with Noah in the dorms.” 

Holy shit. This man in front of me couldn’t be Noah’s roommate. There was no possible way he was the same guy. I hung out with the kid all the time, and this guy…no, not him. Not him at all. 

“You look nothing like you did freshman year.” I blurted out. Then quickly turned red and clamped my hand over my mouth. 

Oh God, he’s going to think you are the biggest idiot. 

Eli laughed. “I was a lot scrawnier back then. Had longer hair. Wore thick framed glasses all the time.” His voice still sounded the same. That was something at least. “When I moved back home to help my mom, I worked with my uncle at his construction company. I guess that helped me gain a little muscle.” He shrugged like he was not confident with how he looked. 

The more I stared at him, the more he was becoming familiar. Freshman year, he was this quiet, slightly nerdy kid. He always wore comic book t-shirts. He had spent most of his time on his computer or playing video games with Noah. Kyler had kept telling me that he had a crush on me, and she even begged me to go out with him a few times, but I always came up with reasons I couldn’t. Mostly those excuses dealt with my crush at that time—Drew. Blah. I was so not going to think about that douche when Eli was standing in front of me. 

I mean, I enjoyed hanging out with him as a friend, but dating? He was definitely not what I thought my type was. Though, what I thought my type was turned out to be a bunch of jerks, so maybe I should have given the nice guy a chance. 

“You okay?” he asked gently, pushing off the railing and taking a seat next to me on the swing. “You seem lost in thought.” 

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?” “Oh no, I do.” 

~*~

Writing Can Be Therapy 

There are two things I hear most when people talk about Love Found. 

1.Cancer is such a touchy subject, why on Earth would you write about it?

2.You wrote about it so beautifully, you must have first-hand knowledge on the subject. 

Statement one is true.

Cancer is a topic most people shy away from. It seems as though it’s almost taboo to talk about in public, even though it’s everywhere and has affected so many. But still, you don’t talk about cancer. You just don’t. 

And you definitely don’t write a book where the main character is dealing with her mom dying. 

Nobody will read that stuff. 

But you know what, I needed to write this book. I didn’t care about it being a taboo subject, I didn’t care that chances were a lot of people who read Choose Us weren’t going to read Love Found. All I cared about was writing this story. 

It was a sort of therapy for me. 

Because you see, the second statement is also true. 

I lost my mom to cancer when I was ten years old. All of my childhood and all that I remember about her revolved around cancer. And I am 100% sure I kept feelings about that buried for many years. 

This is the story my brain needed me to write. And I don’t think I realized just how much I needed to write it, until I was almost done. 

I wouldn’t go as far to say this story was semi-autobiographical, because Haley is way cooler than I ever was and my life has zero parallels with hers, except for the mom thing. 

But I would say, this is what I would have wanted to happen, had I lost my mom at 22 and not 10. 

As a ten year old, you don’t really grasp everything that is going on….and you definitely don’t grasp the reality of everything in your life that will happen without your mom there. 

When you’re ten, it’s even hard to grasp on to the fact that your mom is dying. 

And of course, I kept any feeling buried deep. 

Love Found was an ode to everything that I missed out on. It was everything I wish I could have done/said to my mom before she passed. 

It was my mind playing out what I would have done if I was older and given the time to say goodbye.

But this is also two-fold now. Not only was I writing it from a daughter’s perspective, but I also wrote it from a mother’s view. How would I want my daughter to deal if I was dying? What advice would I give to her, knowing I only had a few moments like that left? How to make sure my daughter won’t shut people out and pretend to be strong on her own? 

So while writing this book was therapeutic for me, I also had the hope that someone who was maybe in the same situation would pick it up, and maybe in some small way it could help them cope with everything that was happening in their life. 

If there is one thing I learned from my mom’s death, is that it does get better. And you are capable of moving on with your life.

Born and raised in the frozen tundra of Wisconsin, Caylie fell in love with reading at a young age. With her lively imagination, she created numerous stories in her head throughout her childhood and teenage years.

Her first novel, Choose Us, released in April 2014 and became an Amazon Bestseller. 

When she isn't slaving away at the keyboard, Caylie is an avid reader, and lover of coffee... copious amounts of coffee. She also has an unhealthy addiction to coffee mugs, chapstick, water bottles, football, and tv shows--binge watching is her favorite.

She chases her two kids around the house all day, and has a husband whom she adores. 

If you want to stay tuned in to all of the new release news, sign up for Caylie's spam-free newsletter. It only comes out when something exciting is happening...promise! 

http://eepurl.com/T7sp5

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Excerpt & Giveaway! The Second Chance, Inferno Falls #3 by Aubrey Parker

He left her alone. Now he’s back … but too much has changed.

Maya grew up with a big heart and even bigger dreams. She never thought she’d end up a single mother spending her whole life where she grew up—the small town of Inferno Falls. But things didn’t work out the way she thought. Grady, her high school love, moved away and left her alone to raise her daughter before the ink dried on their diplomas. Eight years later, Maya’s struggling to make ends meet. And when life gets too tough, she heals the void inside in the only way she knows … whether it’s right or wrong.

But then Grady returns. He’s finally grown homesick after nearly a decade of wandering America, seeing sights and having adventures like Maya always dreamed of—but could never reach for. And Maya holds out hope—more than hope, a need—that Grady is coming home for her, too. It could be just like old times, if she can keep a grip on her bad habits for long enough. Maybe she can finally have the man she’s always wanted, and Kylie can have the father she’s always needed.

Many of us get second chances, but never more than three strikes.

Maya makes the dangerous mistake of assuming everything is just the way it was before, despite the years that have passed. When Grady only wants to make sure they’re not moving too quickly, Maya sees rejection and disaster looms. Rather than preserving a perfect memory, it seems the years have changed them both too much, perhaps, to heal the past. But to earn the love and happiness she’s hunted for so long, Maya won’t merely need to learn to accept Grady … and will have to learn to accept herself, first.

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~*~

It’s amazing how comfortable this all is. 

It would be inaccurate to say dinner goes smoothly because these are my parents and they’re always saying or doing something that embarrasses me even when I’m here alone. But considering all the balls in play, it goes far smoother than it has any right to. 

Grady has been gone for Mackenzie’s entire life. I haven’t bothered Mac with the details of our past, of course, because it would only burden her, and it’s enough for her to think of Grady as an “old friend.” But my folks know it all. They know how we used to be. They know how we broke up, and how I hooked up with Tommy. Up until that point, I feigned virginity, and even after I pretended that I had no itches in desperate need of scratching. If my parents had their druthers, they’d still think I was snow white, but Tommy left me with evidence to the contrary. Grady might have come off as a saint compared to deviling, sex-mongering Tommy, but my parents still know Grady left me, and how angry I became. I think they shared a lot of that anger, and certainly helped me pull through. They know I was stressed when Grady returned. And if I force myself to think past their often-oblivious appearances, I’m sure they know deep down just how much I want him back. 

And yet nobody is showing a sign. 

Nothing is awkward. 

No one is walking on eggshells. Nobody is acting like they know secrets or like they suspect secrets being harbored against them. There are no signs of old grudges, old feelings left to molder in forgotten corners. My folks could be Grady’s parents, too, the way they keep henpecking him and weaseling his life’s details into the open for quiet, well-meaning judgment. 

Dad has thoughts on how to get maximum resale value out of the claptrap truck Grady used to tour the country, away from us. 

Mom wants to see photos of all the places he visited while I was sobbing into pillows, raging against Grady, Tommy, and the world. 

He accepts it all. I watch him absorb it and love him that much more. All the old feelings are coming back. Even if I wanted to stop them, I couldn’t. I feel myself warming from the bottom up, like a vessel filling with liquid. I start to smile and can’t keep a straight face even when I want to. 

I remember how we used to be. How, on two or three separate occasions, he came here with me, playing the good suitor despite his somewhat unfair bad boy reputation, and how afterward I climbed out my window to meet him at the creek, where we made love on the bank. I remember the innocent joy of those evenings — the way the air held the day’s heat, the smell of soil under our blanket, the moon shining its blue light between the branches overhead. I remember the feeling of promise: that there were only good things waiting and that everything would be all right. 

A lot has happened since I last felt this way, but it strikes me how curious it is, the way things have come full circle. There was a time of torment and tumult between Grady’s and my innocent days, but that time has passed. I’ve been pregnant and alone, but now I’m a seasoned mother with a family around me. I’ve been angry and frightened, but today I feel happy and (at this table with Grady beside me, at least) secure and content. 

We’re no longer seventeen. We no longer have quite as many years ahead of us, and in some important ways, our eyes have been opened to the world’s truths. But that doesn’t mean we can’t pick up where we left off. There’s no reason we can’t still have that future, albeit with a decade lost to time in between. 

I watch Mackenzie. She doesn’t know this man, yet she fits with him like the missing piece of a puzzle. And I watch Grady with her, and I see how he’d be as a father. How he could have been as a father. How he is being a father, right here and now. 

Yes. I could be happy here. 

All the day’s problems feel far away. I don’t want to send my mind out to the things that were bothering me so badly earlier, but in an intellectual way I know they’re there … and yet I don’t care. Whatever is wrong, I have my family. Whatever happens, it will all work out. Whatever goes wrong, Grady will make it right. 

I wonder if I’m being stupid all over again. I have no idea how Grady feels, other than the inkling I first got from his text and the impression that’s continued with our shared glances since. Maybe he could love me again. Maybe he never stopped, the way I suppose I never really stopped loving him. Or maybe I’m building a house of cards that could collapse at any time. 

It doesn’t matter. Maybe I’m wrong to feel this way. Maybe I’m being an idiot. I simply don’t care. For now, it feels good. For now, I’m happy.

Maybe I’m setting myself up to get hurt all over again. But tonight it’s a chance I’m willing to take.

~*~

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