December 6, 2015

Excerpt & Giveaway! Snowflake Bay, The Brides of Blueberry Cove #2 by Donna Kauffman



There’s no place like seaside Blueberry Cove, Maine, at Christmas—and there’s nothing like a wedding, the warmth of the holidays, and an old crush, to create the perfect new start…
Interior designer Fiona McCrae has left fast-paced Manhattan to move back home to peaceful Blueberry Cove. But she’s barely arrived before she’s hooked into planning her big sister Hannah’s Christmas wedding—in less than seven weeks. The last thing she needs is for her first love, Ben Campbell, to return to neighboring Snowflake Bay…

As kids, Fiona was the bratty little sister Ben mercilessly teased—while pining after Hannah. But Fi never once thought of Ben like a brother. And that hasn’t changed. Except Fi is all grown up. Will Ben notice her now? More importantly, with her life in a jumble, should he? Or might the romance of the occasion, the spirit of the season, and the gifts of time ignite a long-held flame for many Christmases to come…

Something old might just become something new…


~*~
Big hands gripped her shoulders again and turned her back around. Then she felt rough, thick fingers gently tug at the scarf until her face was completely uncovered, or at least most of it was. Curls still clung to her eyelashes and errant wool fibers remained plastered to her Chapsticked lips.

She finally looked up at him. What the hell. She couldn’t possibly be more mortified around him now than she had been during pretty much every waking, breathing moment of her adolescence, could she?

Any latent, exceedingly selfish hopes she might have harbored that time and age had been unkind to him were extinguished with that one simple glance. He was … beautiful. He’d always been beautiful. Thick, chestnut-brown hair that was forever in need of a trim topped a pair of always twinkling eyes the color of Maine evergreens, and a ready grin set between a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Only now, age and time had somehow transformed him into a man who was more rugged, more handsome, more genuinely, heart-grippingly sexy. The kind of sexy a thirteen-year-old couldn’t even begin to appreciate, but the thirty-two-year-old woman standing before him could all too well.

His body was as ruggedly appealing as his face, with broad shoulders to match those wide palms, and the kind of muscles roping his arms and biceps that even the green plaid wool jacket he had on over a faded red hoodie did little to hide and everything to enhance. She didn’t dare look lower. Didn’t have to. He’d always been athletic and agile despite his size. Looking at those long legs and perfectly muscled thighs wasn’t necessary. She imagined them anyway, remembering far too many summers spent watching him and Logan from her bedroom window as they played pick-up basketball at the hoop mounted to the front of the carriage house, in nothing more than gym shorts and gleaming, honey-gold skin.

It seemed so unfair, she thought, even as she drank in the sight of him like a woman who’d been in the desert since, well, since the summer of her eighth grade graduation. Which was when he’d left town, and her unrequited love, in the unnoticed and seriously pathetic dust.

“Hello, Ben,” she said, seeing the wisps of wool still clinging to her lips dance briefly in the warm, dry air. She wanted to close her eyes. Hell, she wanted to dig a hole to China. Instead, she forced herself to maintain eye contact. Adult. Mature. Not thirteen. Not stupidly pining for a guy who never once thought of you as anything but his best friend’s annoying, bratty kid sister.

At the moment, however, he looked sincerely happy to see her. That shouldn’t have made her knees knock. Or her thighs clench.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said.

“That makes two of us,” she said, thinking that her heart had to be pounding against her chest so hard, if she looked down, she’d surely see a cartoon version of it pumping out through her coat. Her fireplug red, down-filled coat.

Yeah.

Her karma clearly didn’t include things like having the sexier-than-ever Ben Campbell reenter her life when she had on cute yoga pants and was in some innocent but super suggestive pose that had him immediately wondering why in the hell he’d never noticed her before.

“You, uh …” He made a brief motion toward her mouth, and then that gleaming white grin flashed. “Either you’ve been slimed by your scarf, or you have a very unfortunate fungal issue. Either way—” He reached past her to nimbly snag a napkin from the holder she’d half buried under her satchel. “Here,” he said, offering it to her.

Aaaaand humiliation complete. Forever thirteen. Ah well, what the hell. Might as well own it. She tugged off her gloves with her probably wool-coated teeth, then took the proffered napkin. “Thanks,” she said, and turned to put her gloves on the marble countertop and do the best she could without benefit of a mirror to de-fungi herself. Turning back around, she crumpled the napkin in her hand and gave him a wry smile. “Better?”

“Mostly,” he said.

She went stock-still again when, teasing grin still firmly in place, he stepped closer, bowed his head, and gazed ever-so-intently at her mouth. She had no idea how her legs held her upright as every one of her adolescent fantasies came screaming back to mind, but in a far—far—more adult fashion. Surely, he couldn’t mean to—

He brought his hand up—not to cup her cheek so he could lower his lips to hers—but to pluck away the few remaining fibers that still clung to her lips.

What did it say that the tips of his fingers brushing her lips elicited a far greater response from her body than the last man she’d actually gotten naked with? Nothing positive, she was sure. About her, or about poor, couldn’t-find-an-erogenous-zone-if-it-was- staring-him-in-the-face Charlie. Which, sadly for them both, one rather universally well-known zone had been.

“Now you’re good,” he said, smiling again as he stepped back.No, not really, she thought. But you sure are. She swallowed against a throat that was suddenly a dry wasteland, while other parts of her were … decidedly not. Oh, so, very, very good.

~*~


USA Today bestselling author of the Cupcake Club Romance series, Donna Kauffman has seen her books reviewed in venues ranging from Kirkus Reviews and Library Journal to Entertainment Weekly and Cosmopolitan. She lives just outside of DC in the lovely Virginia countryside, where she is presently trying to makeover her newly empty nest into something that doesn’t have to accommodate piles of sports equipment falling out of her coat closet (okay, out of every closet...and under every bed....), size 13 cleats and sweaty uniforms cluttering her foyer (and stairwell, and laundry room, and...), and a kitchen that should have come with a traffic light. And a pantry monitor. (Anyone with a clever idea on how to repurpose lacrosse sticks into matching reading lamps, she’s all ears!) When she’s not stripping paint, varnishing an old auction house find, or trying to avoid bodily injury with her latest power tool purchase, she loves to hear from readers!



Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , , ,

In The Spotlight: The Other Woman: A Betrayed Wife takes on a Mistress with Scandalous Results by Eve Rabi


Meet Scarlett Smyth. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, has a rocking body and has an above average IQ. She brags that she can ensnare any husband or taken male, and …she often does. She also is ambitious and has a penchant for anything expensive. 
When the shrewd and ambitious temptress lays eyes on Bradley Murdoch, she believes she has found her dream man and a ticket to the high life she’s entitled to. There are just two problems: 
1) Bradley is married to Rival. Happily at that. 
2) They have children. Adorable little girls. 
Do those facts deter Scarlett in any way? No, not at all. She is determined to steal Bradley, smoothly replace Rival in his life and show him how to really live life. 
In a calculating move, the seductress (she is so good at seduction, she is even penning a book on it) befriends the quiet and unassuming Rival and seduces Bradley. 
There’s more: To expedite things, Scarlett engineers a way to wipe Rival out of the picture and sends her away on a “vacation”. 
But Scarlett may have underestimated her opponent. When Rival realizes the extent of the betrayal, she decides, even though she lacks Scarlett’s genius IQ, not to turn the other cheek. In fact, she is determined to win back her husband, believing that he is a good man who is simply mistaking lust for love. She believes that someone like Scarlett has to have skeletons in her cupboards and she begins to snoop around. 
What Rival doesn’t understand is: no one crosses Scarlett and gets away with it. As a result, the betrayed wife and the other woman collide and results in this romantic, suspense-filled thriller.



~*~
I stare at him, all my fingers threaded through my hair, my mind muddled and trying to make sense of everything.
“This is not happening,” I mutter. “Can’t be happening!” Then I notice Bradley holding her hand. My best friend’s hand. With both of his. It’s happening. 
At this point, I should be furious with him, with her, with the entire deception. I should yell at her, hurl abuse, even threaten to kill her. But I’m numb with shock and disbelief. I sink deep into my hospital chair, and fight the urge to rock. “Where…do…I go with the children?”
“Well, that’s been taken care of. They will stay with Scarlett and me. But you can see them –”
I leap to my feet. “No!” 
“—whenever you want to.”
“I will not let you take my children, Bradley.”
“Rival, it’s all done.” His voice – he’s using the same tone he uses on our little girls when they’re being unreasonable.
“Done?” I feel a stab of panic. “What do you mean by done?”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Scarlett interrupts, “Rival, the courts –”
“Don’t speak,” I warn, my index finger raised in the air, my eyes fixed on Bradley’s face.
“—have appointed—”
“Don’t SPEAK!” I repeat.
Bradley quickly stands in front of Scarlett, his arms outstretched in a protective gesture. 
“Rival, listen: the court have appointed me sole custodian after you were charged with child negligence. All your visits have to be supervised.”
“What!” I blink rapidly. “Supervised visits? Me?”
“Well, Rival,” Scarlett says in an irritated voice, “you’ve a drug habit—”
“Shut UP, Scarlett!” I snarl.
“—and the last thing we want to do is to endanger—”
Everything happens so quickly. One minute I’m asking Scarlett to shut up, the next I have her on the floor, beating her head with the heavy-duty stapler from my doctor’s desk. There’s blood all over the floor and all over me. 
Both Bradley and the doctor are unable to pull me off Scarlett and it takes six men in white to pull me off the woman who stole my husband, my children, my life.
“Let me go!” I yell. “I need to speak to my husband!”
They won’t let me. I scream and kick at Scarlett’s rescuers. When they restrain my hands, I bite them – sink my teeth into their forearms, chest and legs. Where I get my strength from, I have no idea, but I am suddenly so strong, it takes nine men, including two security guards in the end, to physically restrain me.
“BRADLEY!” I scream. “Don’t do this to me!”
I get no response from my husband. Frustrated, I spit on the men.
That’s when they place a lace hood over my face, a strait jacket over my body and throw me into a padded cell where no one can hear me scream. That doesn’t stop me from screaming and hurling abuse. But when I start to bang my head against the door, they re-enter the room, surround me, and inject me. The last thing I see before my eyes shut is the image of my husband holding my best friend’s hands. With both of his. Don’t do this to me, Bradley. Please don’t do this to me. Please …

~*~



Email:everabi2012@hotmail.com

Posted by at 2 comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , , ,

Excerpt & Giveaway! The Deepest Blue, Roadmap To Your Heart #2 by Christina Lee




Lee exchanges skyline for swampland in the next book of her male/male romance series, Roadmap to Your Heart.

Rugged and conventional Callum Montgomery enjoys running Shady Pines hunting preserve, except for the secret that’s eating him alive. When his sister brings a date for a family wedding, he can’t stand the arrogant city slicker with the stick up his perfectly fine ass. He doesn’t understand his draw to Dean, who pushes his buttons at every turn, but he’d never dream of betraying his sibling over some lust fueled fantasy. 

Handsome and conscientious Dean Abbott is a research assistant in his university’s biology lab. When his roommate, Cassie, begs him to be her pretend date in front of her meddling family, he begrudgingly agrees to help. He doesn’t anticipate being enchanted by the countryside, the colorful cast of characters, or her sexy and brooding straight brother. 

When contempt turns to passion and leads to stolen moments in a sugar cane field, Callum can’t help longing for the kind of connection he believes he can never have. But not even the world’s most heart-melting kiss can bridge the vast philosophical differences between the men. 

Dean’s return to his urban lifestyle leaves him restless, his mind continually wandering to the charming setting that spoke to something missing deep inside him. Because you can take the city boy out of the country but you can’t make him forget the intriguing man he left behind.
~*~
“Isn’t there some law about killing snakes in this state?” I heard our company say. Even out of the corner of my eye I could see that the guy was one of them pretty city boys. He was walking beside my sister, Cassie, who was busy filling him in on rattler containment on personal property. He must’ve been the guest she’d mentioned bringing. 

Did he need to be that handsome? Too bad he had to go and open his mouth.

“We can always walk away,” I said. I didn’t dare take my eye off the rattlesnake for a second time. “But that leaves you out here with no protection.”

I heard him gulp at the same time Grammy snickered. “Sounds like our Cassie might’ve brought home some tree hugger.” 

Grammy gripped the heavy rock in her fingers, ready to bash the rattler’s skull at a moment’s notice. 

“They say when a rattler strikes, your blood turns to fire. Like the venom is boiling away in your veins,” I said and I could hear whatshisname’s breathing change. “You’ve got about a ninety-minute window of time before the poison spreads.”

“And then what happens?” he asked, and I could just imagine his pulse throbbing in his neck. I heard his one foot scrape across the other as if rubbing some imaginary dirt from his spotless shoes. Either that or it was some nervous tick.

I shrugged. “Then you’re dead.”

“Callum. Knock it off,” Cassie said and I could hear the tightness in her voice. It pained me that we hadn’t been in touch for a long while and I certainly didn’t want to piss her off even further.

The snake retreated toward its hiding spot and disappeared without a second glance at the mouse. Damn.

Now I looked our new guest square in the face while my irritation bubbled over. Grammy had banked on making a fresh batch today. Lately I left the hunting to my brother, Braden, but he had a full plate, so I agreed to be a stand-in. “You Cassie’s date for the wedding?”

“That’s right. I, uh, attend the same college,” he said and I couldn’t help my gaze from snagging on the deepest set of blue eyes. Not quite as dark as that tangle of hair that swept in a high arc away from his forehead. Wearing a pair of fancy designer jeans that showed off his trim form, he was smaller than me, but most guys were. And now I felt shitty for checking out my sister’s guest. “The name’s Dean Abbott.”
~*~


Once upon a time, I lived in New York City and was a wardrobe stylist. I spent my days shopping for photo shoots, getting into cabs, eating amazing food, and drinking coffee at my favorite hangouts. 

Now I live in the Midwest with my husband and son—my two favorite guys. I've been a clinical social worker and a special education teacher. But it wasn't until I wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper that I realized I could turn the fairytales inside my head into the reality of writing fiction. 

I'm addicted to lip gloss and salted caramel everything. I believes in true love and kissing, so writing romance novels has become a dream job. 

I write Adult, New Adult, and M/M romance. I also own a hand-stamped jewelry business, which requires me to stamp letters and/or words onto pieces of silver. They go hand-in-hand perfectly.


Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , , ,

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: 

~*~ 
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


Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , ,

December 1, 2015

Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: I Unlove You by Matthew Turner


My name is Ausdylan Elvis Ashford, a twenty-two-year-old who leads a rather perfect life. With a steady job straight out of university, a charismatic best friend I’m in a band with, and a girlfriend I’ve loved since the moment I first gazed upon, I couldn’t ask for more. Until my perfect girlfriend, B, changed both of our lives forever. 


It began with the words, “I’m pregnant,” and the realisation I’d soon guide a new life into this world. Embarking on my own journey of self-discovery, I found new meaning in love, living, friendship, and family. This should have become the greatest love story of all, but I assure you it isn’t. 

Sometimes true love and unbreakable trust is built upon lies and deceit. Sometimes those you know better than anyone turn out to be strangers you don’t know at all. My name is Aus, and this is my (un)love story. . .


~*~ 
  NOVEMBER 15TH - A BATHROOM FLOOR:


Beatrice Butterworth is a bitch. That’s how the dream ends, me shouting and falling into a dark and eerie abyss. My eyes shoot open, and for a few seconds I’m at peace. There is no pain. There is no despair. There are no lies or deceit. There’s nothing but a soothing, calming, numbing nothingness, until everything turns against me and transforms into torture.

“Urghhh,” I groan, my head throbbing and throat dry. 

I close my eyes, light’s burden’s too great. My mind continues its unstable spin. Clenching my fists, I try and force my hands to my face, but I’m unable to move. I’m too heavy, far too heavy, as if something or somebody sits on my chest. What can I remember? What the hell happened? Where on earth am I?

The last thing I recall is standing outside of work, catching my breath after storming out of Tony’s office. Did I really say all those things to him? Did I tell him to sit down and shut up whilst I stood in his office? I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have…only, I did. I remember it. I remember the white room and his drained face. It doesn’t seem real, but it is.

“What the hell?” I whisper, each word whistling through my cracked lips. 

Blinking, I open my eyes long enough to explore the strange place where I lay: blue and grey tiles reach up to a cracked ceiling; an extractor fan vibrates in the corner, covered in dirt and murk; and a patch of green mould encircling a brown centre. I appear to be in a bathroom, and a rather grim one at that.

I take a deep breath and focus my thoughts, but all I do is disturb my fragile stomach. I hurt, all over. Not just aches and pains of muscles and tendons, but a throbbing surge running up my left arm. I tap my right fingers against the hard, tiled floor, and run my nails along its surface to my thigh and onto my frozen skin. 

I hadn’t realised until now, but I’m cold; numb, even. Running my hand up and down my right side, all I find are boxer shorts, as damp and cold as my skin. “What the hell happened?” I mumble, using all my strength to roll on to my side. 

The pain running up my left arm intensifies, the pounding in my head gets heavier, the rumble in my stomach an unbearable tumble. “What have you done?” I mumble again, struggling up into a sitting position and evaluating the chaos around me.

Two fallen and finished bottles of cheap whisky lay to my right, and a half-eaten burger to my left. All alone in this bare bathroom, I’m surrounded by a toilet and a sink, a cracked mirror above it. No towels, pictures, or semblance of life. No toilet roll, toothbrushes or shower. Just me and my mess, and a pile of vomit inches from my hand.

“Oh, God,” I say, edging away from it.

I search the area for my clothes, but find nothing on the floor except the empty bottles and discarded burger. Cuts and bruises cover my knees and shins, and a discoloured purple patch, consumes half my left arm. At least that answers the mystery behind my throbbing pain, although how it came to be remains a riddle. 

Closing my eyes, I focus and think, but all I remember is standing outside the office. I suppose I drank, but how much? I’ve suffered through horrendous hangovers before, but never like this. This isn’t me. I don’t do this. Neither do I confront my boss the way I did.

I’m not sure who I am anymore. I may not remember last night, but I remember everything else. All those moments I wish I couldn’t. All those times I wish were different.

Heaving myself onto my knees, I struggle to my feet and stumble towards the chipped and broken sink. Head spinning and body swaying, I cling to the porcelain with all my might. 

“Shit,” I sigh, starring at the apparent man looking back: red-eyed, with puffy cheeks, bruised forehead and grazed chin. My hair loops around itself into knotted strands. My nose, blue and tender, even larger and more crooked than usual. Despite feeling frozen and shivering, I drip with sweat. I have chapped lips and cracked skin, and patchy stubble breaking through the surface.

“You did it, B,” I say, my eyes welling like they have so often of late. “You’ve broken me. You did this. I loved you and trusted you so much, but you’ve broken me.” I shake my head and wipe away the tears bulging in the corner of my eyes. “I hate you, B. I hate you.”

~*~



Matthew Turner is an English author who writes gritty coming-of-age stories about love and life as an early twenty-something. His latest novel, I Unlove You, follows his previous books, Tick to the Tock and Beyond Parallel. You can learn more about his stories and general day dreaming at turndog.co/books, where he opens up the entire writing process to avid readers and fellow writers like you.
Join his band of merry misfits and be part of an adventure that few writers share. Learn more at tdog.co/iunloveyou where you can download his latest novel for free.


Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , ,

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.





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



Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , , ,

Excerpt & Giveaway: Ready To Rock by Cara Conelly




His name's on everyone's lips--sexy rocker Jack McCabe. His gritty New York City band is red hot, almost as hot as his fiery affair with photography student Lil Marchone, the girl from his past, now the woman he loves. The problem is, Lil's controlling ex wants her back. Rich, powerful, and ruthless, he'll stop at nothing--including murder--to get Jack out of her life. But Jack's a badass himself, always up for a fight. And with the stakes this high, he'll risk everything for Lil, even his band. Even his life.



~*~
The scent of fresh-brewed coffee wafted through my window, enticing me out of a pleasant dream: I was sitting on the terrace of my uncle’s chateau outside of Amboise, the morning sun glinting off the infinity pool, coffee steaming in a crockery cup. It felt so familiar. The comfort. The luxury.

The indoor plumbing.

With that last thought, I came fully awake, reminded that not only was I far from Amboise, I was at least twenty miles from an actual toilet.

Remembering the spidery outhouse I’d visited by flashlight the night before, I squeezed my legs together. How was I supposed to live without a toilet? Running water? A shower! Electricity, for crying out loud.

Nursing my grievances, I listened with growing bitterness to Jack and Ty yucking it up out on the porch. They were catching up, the lazy flow of their conversation punctuated by easy laughter. Resentfully, I threw back the blankets and stood up, determined to demand better accommodations. Even the Halfway House had a toilet, for Chrissakes.

I marched to the living room. But that was as far as I got.

What I saw through the screen door made me lose my resolve: the two of them sitting on the steps in their faded jeans and cowboy hats, Jack leaning back against the rail, a stalk of hay in his teeth, and Ty whittling at a stick, a pile of shavings at his feet.

They could’ve stepped out of time, fresh from a cattle drive.

As I looked on, Ty said something that cracked both of them up, and it struck me that I couldn’t recall Jack laughing so freely before. He was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.

My gaze rose beyond him to the yard, mostly rocks and yucca and mesquite. Patches of grass sprouted here and there, with scarlet flecks of Indian paintbrush dotted against the gray and green. To the south, the grassy meadow shimmered in the breeze, bluebonnets waving their lazy heads. Otherwise, we were surrounded by woods—oak, pecan and cottonwood.

It was rugged country, untamed and unwelcoming to a city girl like me. But not to Jack. He was built for this land; for the labor and the beauty, both. As I watched, he tilted his hat back to follow the flight of an eagle overhead. What was electricity next to that? What was running water? Conveniences, not necessities. They made life easier, not happier.

He brought his cup to his lips, eyes closing to savor the strong aroma. And it was suddenly so clear to me. Too much of the outlaw ran in his veins for him ever to be content in the city. 

All he needed, all he really wanted, was a campfire, a clear spring, a good cup of coffee. And me.

Then and there, I decided that I wouldn’t complain. I’d bathe in the stream and pee in the outhouse, cook on the woodstove and read by the lantern. And I’d do it all wholeheartedly, for as long as Jack wanted to.

Because all I needed, all I really wanted, was him.




Cara Connelly is the author of the Save the Date series of contemporary romances published by Avon Romance. The latest book in the series, The Wedding Gift, was released in May 2015. Cara’s smart and sexy stories have won several awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart, the Valley Forge Romance Writers’ Sheila, and the Music City Romance Writers’ Melody of Love. A former attorney and law professor, she lives with her husband Billy in the woods of upstate New York.


Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , , ,

Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Just Close Enough, Alabama Secrets #2 by Elizabeth Marx




A man out for revenge…

When Alexander Volkow raced into Crossroads, Alabama and bought up half of Broad Street, the entire town questioned his motives, but he didn’t care. He did it for one reason and only one reason — to find the man who went AWOL from the military with his brother, Kon. Knowing Kon, something is terribly wrong, and Alex is set on retribution.

But when all roads lead to the town’s favorite daughter, who just happens to be the missing man’s fiancée, Alex can’t help but be mesmerized by her alluring southern charm and sexy little snort.

A woman searching for a way out...

No amount of bartending, snake charming, or organic cotton growing can stop the fear blooming inside Polly Anna Coots. She knows if her MIA fiancée is found alive, he’ll want to follow through with their marriage plans, but she has had a change of heart — and not just because of the new man she can’t get out of her head. If her fiancée returns and she reneges on their future, she’ll end up DOA.

When one of Polly Anna’s snakes runs Alex off the road, sparks fly, and the two embark on a steamy collision course in a small town filled with secrets that add fuel to the smoldering fire.

Can either one of them get just close enough to acquire what they need from the other without falling in love?

*Can be read as a stand alone.*


~*~

Excerpt

Chapter 1

DRAW ME IN, MY SWEET MEDUSA
ALEXANDER

October 

Revenge. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I think I’d like mine hot, hot and bothered for me.

My car was parked behind a stand of cattails, just beyond the dilapidated-looking barn so I could admire the muscles in her legs when she put her boot in the stirrup and boosted herself up and into the saddle. Her breasts bounced when she landed, taunting me further. Her hair was as flaxen blonde as her horse’s mane, it streamed through the breeze behind her as she urged the animal into a gallop. She leaned over the horse’s neck and whispered words in the animal’s ear. I imagined her lying over me, her silky hair cascading over my bare shoulders as she used encouraging words to urge me on. 

In pursuit of my prey, I’d discovered her. I had come here after Billy Buford, the man I was certain would lead me to the whereabouts of my big brother. Whether Kon was dead or alive the trail went cold in Crossroads.

Day after day, I searched every backwoods shanty and abandoned still in Marshall County, Alabama, but Billy Buford was nowhere to be found. I should admit that I’d come up empty-handed and chalk it up to another dead end. I convinced myself I’d trekked into the armpit of this county so I could locate Billy, but I had been sticking around to keep an eye on her.

I’d met Billy once over a beer with my brother. He was thick through the neck and thick in the head, he was a bruiser and bully. I thought of him as Billy goat gruff. I couldn’t figure out what my brother Kon saw in the guy, before Billy had finished his second beer he was chasing some skank. After he left with her Kon told me Billy was engaged to a beautiful girl — belle of the south — Kon called her. I gave my brother a double take — how could anything that shallow acquire anything of worth?

Dumb luck was the only explanation I came up with because she was the most tantalizing thing I’d come across in Alabama. But I’d never been desperate enough for female companionship that I’d stalked an unsuspecting female. I expelled a heavy breath into the thick air and the rearview mirror fogged up. I chuckled at the thought of her body hovering over mine, telling me what to do. When had I ever needed directions? Especially from a sweet little piece wearing frayed Daisy Dukes. 

The binoculars felt slippery in my hands as I pushed them over the leather on the passenger’s seat. I had to stop this; I chastised myself as I rearranged myself in my seat. I was obsessing over her as much as what I’d come to this backwoods town for in the first place. 

I was here for revenge. Retribution. I’d take it hot or cold, maybe I’d have a serving of each.




Amazon iBooks BN Smashwords


Elizabeth Marx writes deeply emotional romances that take her readers on a roller coaster ride through desire and despair. She is not afraid to push you over that first drop just when you think you know what’s going to happen next. Her writing is described as hilarious, heartbreaking, and heartwarming. Her characters achieve the ‘happily ever after’ through a journey of poignant and passionate moments.
Elizabeth resides in Chicago with her husband, girls, and two cats who've spelled everyone into believing they're really dogs.
If you want to be the first to know about her new releases please sign up for her newsletter: https://goo.gl/83blZV



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by at No comments:
Share on Tumblr
Labels: , , , ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)