August 6, 2015

Excerpt & Giveaway! Carry Your Heart, Carry Your Heart #1 by K. Ryan

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When Isabelle Martin steps onto Sawyer Auto Repair’s parking lot, she can’t believe it’s come to this. After dropping out of a school she never really wanted to go to in the first place and dumping a boyfriend she never really loved to begin with, she thought coming home to Claremont, North Carolina would solve all her problems. Instead, she’s still reeling from her mom’s death six months earlier and trying, but failing to help her dad, who’s sunken deep into a whiskey-fueled depression. Working in the local, motorcycle club-owned, auto shop’s office is a last resort, but it’s the only option she has...even if it means working with Caleb Sawyer, the bad-boy biker with swagger to spare who used to drive her up the wall in high school. Caleb Sawyer is on the fast-track to a downward spiral. He used to think he had the world at his feet--all he has to do is be patient, earn his keep in the club and in the shop, and his legacy within the Iron Horsemen MC will be his for the taking when the time is right. But that just doesn’t mean anything without his old lady by his side, who wants to leave Claremont more than she wants to stay with him. When the bottom finally drops out, nothing prepares him for the impact and he deals with it the only way he knows how--with whiskey and women. Despite all that, being around Isabelle Martin, the girl whose feathers he ruffled so easily in high school, somehow brings him back to life. She doesn’t take any of his crap, but she calls him on it without judgment and without pity. Despite some initial animosity, Caleb and Isabelle quickly realize that the perceptions they had of each other in high school couldn’t be further from the truth. The more time they spend together, the closer they become and the more they gravitate towards each other. Both are at a crossroads, but stuck in reverse. Isabelle needs help; she just doesn’t know how to ask for it. Caleb needs a life preserver; he just doesn’t know where to find one. And ultimately, on the path to rediscovery and identity, all roads lead them to exactly what they need--each other. New adult/contemporary romance told in alternating points of view. Recommended for readers 18 and older. Book #1 in the Carry Your Heart series that follows Caleb and Isabelle’s journey spanning the course of eight years.



Caleb

“Coffee?” she gestured towards the empty cup to my right. When I nodded, my mouth too full of peanut buttery awesomeness, she poured me a cup with a smirk. 

“Do I want to know why you’re out on the prowl tonight? Or...wait, if you just finished up with some random chick, I’m not sure I want to hear about it,” she crinkled her nose a little as she spoke and if I didn’t know her better, I would’ve thought her tone was a little harsh. 

Good thing I did know her well enough to recognize sarcasm in her voice when I heard it. 

“I’m trying this whole bein’ sober thing,” I grinned back at her. “Shocking, right?”

“Who knew you’d grow up to be so responsible?” she shot back and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. 

“Gotta grow up sometime, I guess,” I replied good-naturedly.

“Well,” she smiled softly. “If it helps, I’m glad you’re not face down in a gutter somewhere.”

“I’d much rather be here with you, darlin’,” I winked. 

She just rolled her eyes and tossed an empty sugar packet at me. I gestured down to the open notebook to her right and forced myself not to peek at, careful to respect her privacy and her space. 

“Whatcha workin’ on over there?”

She looked back at me sharply and then her expression shifted from surprised to confused to tired and finally rested on forlorn. I didn’t have it in me tonight to even begin to understand what any of that meant or what my words had to do with anything. It was almost midnight and we should really be in bed. 

Mind outta the gutter, Sawyer.

Separate. In different beds. Sleeping. Nothing else.

“Oh,” she answered finally. “Nothing all that important really. I was trying to figure out some stuff, but that didn’t work out too well.”

“Alright, so when do I get to commission something?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” I shrugged as I shoveled another bite of pie into my mouth. “I figured you’re gonna be rich and famous someday, so I better get an Isabelle Martin original while I can still afford it.”

“Aw,” she called out in a sing-song voice. “You called me Isabelle.”

I wagged my fork at her. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Okay,” she leaned forward a little more. “So, say you were to actually commission something. What would you request?”

That one was easy. 

“My bike. Definitely. I can already see her…”

Isabelle’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did you just refer to your motorcycle as a she?”

I blinked back her. “Uh. Yeah. That’s what she is. She’s beautiful and she’s perfect and if you so much as say a bad word about her, I’m gonna get up from this table right now and I won’t ever talk to you again.”

Her hand covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. “Whoa, buddy. Simmer down. I promise,” she made a cross sign over her heart, “I won’t say anything bad about her.”

All she got from me for that was an eye roll. 

“I mean, you’ll really do it, right?”

She was still laughing. “Well, sure.”

“Do I still have to pay you?” I murmured in a low voice. 

“Hmm...pay for the coffee and get me another piece of pie and I think we’re square.”

“Deal!” I thumped my fist on the table for good measure. 

Isabelle just laughed with a wide grin on her face and for a moment, I felt frozen by how happy she looked. Beautiful.

If I could just get a little of that, feel a little of what she was feeling right now, maybe I could get one step closer to actually feeling like a normal human being. But then again, every time I was with her, it was easy to forget all that other shit and just laugh and talk and just be normal. 

“So,” I cleared my throat. “What brings you here in the middle of the night other than the fact that you can’t sleep?”

She was quiet for a moment and when her eyes flicked back up to mine, my chest tightened at the pain radiating in them. 

“I guess I just...well, I just really missed my mom tonight,” she murmured, staring into her coffee cup. 

I nodded. That was a feeling I knew all too well. Something told me there was a little more going on, but didn’t see the point in pushing her. I didn’t want to overstep or make her any more upset than she already was but this? Feeling the sting, the heart-wrenching loss of losing a parent...this was something I might actually be able to help her with. 

“You know,” I started cautiously. “It’s still hard for me walk into the clubhouse everyday and not wonder where he’d be--where I’d be--if my dad was still alive and kicking. Sometimes, when I’m on the lot, I can almost see him in the shop, workin’ on a truck or pickin’ me up to take me for a ride. I guess it doesn’t get any easier, but it helps to remember those things, you know? The little things, the good things, even if it sucks sometimes, because...I guess that’s all you have left, you know?”

Her eyes glimmered with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on and I wondered if maybe I’d said too much or maybe not enough. It was always hard to tell with her. Sometimes, I felt like I knew exactly what she was thinking and other times...

“That’s funny,” she shook her head with a sad smile. “Because sometimes when I walk past our kitchen counter I have these flashbacks of when I was five and I remember racing home everyday after kindergarten to watch Dirty Dancing. I know, great parenting, right?”

A grin tugged at my lips as I chuckled with her. It was good to hear her talk this way, especially since the only time she’d really spoken of her mom was the night I’d completely lost my shit in front of her, and I knew, from firsthand experience, that she probably needed to talk more about her mom than she did. 

“So, this one day,” she continued softly. “I must have done something really bad--I mean really naughty--to make my mom this mad. I still have no idea what I did. Funny how that works, right? But I remember her being so mad she was just red all over--I mean furious with rage--and she takes my Dirty Dancing tape...you know the good ol’ VHS ones? And she takes the tape, lifts it over her head all dramatic, and then smashes it into the counter right in front of me.”

We were both shaking with laughter now. 

“Oh, I cried and cried and cried. I couldn’t believe she actually did it! And I wouldn’t come out of my room for the rest of the night because I was so mad at her. So then the next day, when I finally came down for breakfast, there was a brand new Dirty Dancing tape there waiting for me on the kitchen counter.”

“Wow,” I chuckled. “She must have felt pretty shitty to get you another copy like that.”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a grin. “Well, of course, I had to promise never to do whatever it was I did again in order to get it and she promised never to smash my stuff again.”

I wiped my eyes from laughing so hard and shook my head. “I never pegged you for such a problem child.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged. “I’m just full of surprises.”

She didn’t know the fucking half of it.






K. Ryan


K. Ryan is a former English teacher, who graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point in 2009. In between ‘real life’ duties, she’s been writing the Carry Your Heart series quietly on the side for the last two years. When not writing, she’s either binge-watching something on Netflix, running, reading, or cheering on the Packers. She lives in the Green Bay area with her crazy-supportive boyfriend and the best decision of her adult life, a not-so-stray cat named Oliver.





Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway! Bad Intentions by Nacole Stayton




She’s careful, but wants to be reckless. 


She’s cute, but wants to be sexy. 

She’s innocent, but wants to be bad.

When ex-Olympic gymnast, Adaley Knight wakes on her eighteenth birthday she only has one wish, to leave the only town she’s ever known and start fresh.

Finding herself enrolled at a college across the globe, the once modest Adaley is almost unrecognizable. Her new persona dances on the wild side by sinking her teeth into the first bad boy she sees. The only problem is he’s not the least bit interested.

Ryle Benson, baseball extraordinaire and brooding campus bad-boy keeps everyone at an arms length. Things have never come easy for him and the last thing he needs is getting involved with any female.

The tables are reversed as she tries to be bad, tempting fate, and he tries to fight his. The push and pull is half the fun. But what happens when one pushes a little too hard?





“Dare.” Ryle’s voice is cool, calm and collected as he mumbles his answer, like there isn’t another option.


“I dare you to—” Bradley’s interrupted by several females shouting in unison. “Take off your shirt!” 

Ryle nods his head to the adorning crowd and grabs the rim of his shirt. Everyone with lady parts around the fire starts to drool. Me included. His movements are slow and sensual, and he doesn’t even bat an eye. Apparently removing an article of clothing in front of a crowd is a typical thing for him to do on a Saturday night. My needy eyes take notice to the “V” that waves hello to me as cloth is lifted from his body.

I melt.

Literally. My body fills like goo, and I wilt until nothing is left but a puddle of want and need.

“Ow ow.”

“Yumola!”

“Sexy beast.”

I feel like I need to wash my ears out. Rolling my eyes, I snatch Tank’s drink out of his hands and down it. Bottoms up.





Nacole Stayton is twenty-something years young and currently resides in the Bluegrass State where she spends her nights writing vigorously. She has a passion for helping others and wears her University of Kentucky gear proudly. While her husband loves all things outdoors, Nacole enjoys the finer things in life, like getting pedicures while reading on her Kindle. She is passionate about her faith, family, and The Vampire Diaries.




In The Spotlight! Excerpt & Giveaway! What You Left Behind, Left Behind #1 by Len Webster

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goodreads


No amount of white sand or distance could bury their past.

Some things are just never meant to be forgotten. When Julian Moors returned from Thailand he left behind all his belongings, his father and only brother in Melbourne and moved to Sydney. One girl shattered his world and left him with more questions than answers. Behind the persona, Stevie Appleton tries to outrun her past. Nightmares and memories have started to collide, putting her future and her heart at risk. No one can know the secrets she tries to keep locked away, even if it means betraying the people she loves the most. Everyone has a story but not everyone has a past quite like Stevie and Julian. When they meet years later, don't expect a happy ending. The past holds skeletons and not even these skeletons can be buried.





“Blondie, wake up for a second,” Julian whispered in her ear. Stephanie groaned and shrugged away from his touch. “Could you maybe put your erection away?” He peeked over to see her eyes still closed and her cheek rested on the back of her hand. Julian shook her once again. “You’re naked. Are you always this distracting in the morning? I’d like to wake up just once without a hard-on.” “Julian, I’m going to give you something for your ego.” She pulled the blanket higher, covering her perfect breasts. Her breasts are magic. Perfect rack. Ducking down, he pressed his lips against the smoothness of her neck. “My ego is ready.” “I bet it is.” Stephanie took a deep breath. “You are annoyingly good at sex. Go to work and let me somehow deal with the fact that I like having sex with you. Okay?” Julian had smiled against her skin before he quickly sat up. “Blondie, Blondie, Blondie!” he honeyed while he shook her with more force. Stephanie groaned before she finally sat up and rubbed her eyes. Pissed off Stephanie Appleton was a sight. So was just woken and admitted he was a satisfying lover Stephanie Appleton. She was an all-round vision. “WHAT?” Julian formed a fist and held it towards her, waiting. She glanced down at it and frowned. Her adorable frown distracted him from the fact that her breasts greeted him this morning. “Put it there.” He lifted his fist a little higher. Stephanie’s eyebrows furrowed. “You want me to bump fists with you? Why?” The smirk on his face had caused her to roll his eyes at him. “You said I’m good at sex. I like to believe I’m awesome at it, but we’ll save that kind of correction for later. You said you also like having sex with me. My ego loves that very much. And for your ego, I’m gonna tell ya that you are ridiculously good in bed. We have to bump fists for great teamwork. I come. You come. We come. What a lovely partnership we have going.” “Oh, my God! I am never having sex with you again!” He tilted his chin up at her and then cocked a brow. “What an empty threat. Seriously, put it there. Let’s celebrate what an awesome pair we are.” Stephanie playfully pushed at his shoulder and got off the bed. “You’re an idiot. I am not bumping fists with you for that. I’m going to find a way to dent that damn ego of yours. You’re going to slip up sometime, Moors. You can’t be that great in bed all the time.”




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Len


Len Webster is a romance-loving Melburnian with dreams of finding her version of 'The One.' But until that moment happens, she writes. Having just completed her BBusCom from Monash University, Len is now busy writing her next romance about how a boy met a girl, and how they fell completely and hopelessly in love.






Cover Reveal! Dirty Promises, Dirty Angels #3 by Karina Halle


Blood. Sex. Revenge.

Being king comes at a brutal price.

Drug lord Javier Bernal has sliced and diced his way to the top of the Mexican drug trade, presiding over the country's largest cartel. But his rise to power comes at a brutal price: the death of his sister, Alana. Devastated and wracked with guilt, he turns away from his new wife, Luisa, forcing their marriage into a steady decline. But it isn't until she's pushed into the waiting arms of Esteban Mendoza, his right-hand man, that Javier realizes everything he's lost.

And it isn't until he learns the truth about Alana, that he realizes everything there is to gain.

Blood will spill.

Cities will burn.

Heads will roll.

Because Javier will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.

And what he wants is raw, ruthless revenge.

Dirty Promises is the third and final book in the Dirty Angels Trilogy. While the other two books - Dirty Angels and Dirty Deeds - can be read as standalones, it is recommended you read at least Dirty Angels before reading Dirty Promises.



All my life, I thought I could operate under my own code of morals and ideals. It was no different than most, I supposed. The cop who has to shoot someone in self-defense. The soldiers that go to war and raid villages in the name of freedom. Everyone makes excuses for what they do, because they believe in it. Because they believe they are in the right.

I had always thought of myself as a somewhat civilized, almost classy, narco. I at least wanted to bring purpose and grace to what I did. I didn’t believe in killing mercilessly. I believed in mercy, in forgiveness, in giving people second chances. I believed in letting people go after I got what I wanted from them.

I believed that to snitch was an outrage, that even though we were dealing and fighting and killing to be in a billion dollar industry. I believed that religious celebrations were to be respected. I believed that family came first. I believed that women and children would not be harmed.

For a moment, I thought that perhaps I had lost my mind. Never mind the needless, senseless deaths that were already at my hands over the last few months. Never mind that I had broken promises to others, to myself. Dirty, filthy promises. It was then and only then that I knew I had lost who I was. That every moral fibre that I based myself on was threadbare and I was close, oh so close, to losing all sense of myself forever.

It scared me. I watched Luisa leave the room and though I was reeling from her own words, the callous ones that reached deep inside me and left a scar, I knew I might have damaged her beyond repair. I could heal myself in time, but could she? Would we? 

I didn’t think so.







Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of Where Sea Meets Sky, Racing the Sun, The Pact, Love, in English, The Artists Trilogy, Dirty Angels and over 20 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.
Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Atria Books/Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.
Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle , on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.




Book Blitz! Guest Post & Giveaway! All At Sea by Pepper Ellison



When eighteen-year-old American Amelia Beauchamp arrives in Honolulu for a three-month stay on her family’s yacht, the only thing she has on her mind is conquering her fear of water and hopefully—for once in her life—making a few friends. The last thing she expects is to fall for cocky surf instructor, Kody Murdock.

Twenty-two-year-old Kody has fled Australia. Kody’s not looking for love, he’s not looking for a hook-up, he just wants to surf. But when pale, awkward Amelia comes walking down the beach he can’t help but think she’s kind of adorable. The pair strike up a complicated friendship.

Can these two people from different worlds find a way to interact without strangling each other? And what, or whom, is Kody running from?

A surfer romance told through text messages and emails, ALL AT SEA will appeal to fans of Meg Cabot’s THE BOY NEXT DOOR and Alyson Noel’s LAGUNA COVE.


Phrases American Girls Should Know Before 
Dating An Aussie Bloke
by Pepper Ellison

For an American girl, if you’re going to date an Aussie guy, it’s not just the accent that is hard to understand. They seem to speak a language that is not English. Your guy might lean to you and say, ‘Stone the crows! How blotto is that bush pig from whoop whoop?’ Or, ‘I’m totally spewing that I missed those cracker bumnuts smornin.’ 

Never mind. Pepper is here to translate for you.

‘Chuck a sickie’ is to feign sickness, this is also called ‘bludging’. ‘Chuck a u-ie’ is to make a u turn in traffic. To ‘chuck a wobbler’ means to throw a tantrum, just ‘chuck’ on its own means to vomit. ‘Spewing’ on the other hand means feeling disappointed.

To ‘wear the wobbly boot’ means to be drunk. You can also be ‘blotto’. ‘Off your chops’ means to be intoxicated. To ‘carry on like a pork chop’ also means to throw a tantrum. To have ‘chops’ means to be a skilled musician.

‘Sinking’ generally means drinking, as in ‘sink a coldie’, ‘sink a tinny’, ‘sink a brew’. These are all drinking beer, so you are likely to hear them a lot. (‘Sink a knuckle’ means something else…) You can also ‘crack a tinny/coldie/brew’. (To ‘crack a fat’ means something else…) 

If something is a ‘cracker’, that means very good. A ‘ticker’ is your heart. To ‘have ticker’, means to be courageous.

Your freckle is… Well, your freckle is your bum – as in ‘don’t fret your freckle’.

‘Whoop whoop’ means a long way away. ‘Within cooee’ means not far from here. It’s equivalent to a ‘stone’s throw’. ‘Stone the crows’ means, ‘I am astonished!’

‘Smornin’ is a contraction of ‘this morning’, and later in the day is ‘sarvo’.
Having a ‘Barry Crocker’ (shocker) means having a bad day.
‘Pig’s arse’ means ‘I find your story unlikely’. However, ‘rat’s arse’ means ‘I don’t care’.

A ‘boogie’ is a half-sized surf board that you ride on your belly. A ‘booger’ is snot. (Either way you don’t want to date this guy, because boogie boarding is not real surfing.)

A ‘blue’ is a fight. Most red heads are also called ‘Bluey’, or ‘bloodnut’. Your ‘nut’ is your head, unless it’s a testicle – you can assess this from context. …usually. 

‘Bum nuts’ are eggs, as are ‘cackleberries’ and ‘googs’.

To take a ‘slash’, a ‘wet’, a ‘snake’s hiss’, or to ‘drain the lizard’ all mean to urinate. Females might ‘split the whisker’.

A ‘bush pig’ is an unattractive woman. She might have a face ‘like a busted arse’.

A ‘servo’ is a petrol station. A ‘servie’ is a napkin.

‘Dommies’ are condoms.

Aussie males also have a tendency for rhetorical questions. For example:
‘How good is this brew?’
‘Doesn’t that Bluey have a cracker of a coin slot?’
‘How blotto is that bush pig from whoop whoop?’

You are generally not required to answer, but you could say something like, ‘I don’t give a rats. I’m going to split the whisker. Don’t fret your freckle. I’ll be within cooee.’


Pepper Ellison was born in 1991 on a Royal Navy ice patrol ship stationed near Ross Island along the coast of Antarctica. Currently, she divides her time between Waipahu, Hawaii and Sydney, Australia. She has worked as a marine science research assistant, specialising in sea mammals, a brand ambassador for a craft beer company, and most recently, a Harley-Davidson joy-ride driver out of Kings Creek Station in Central Australia. She is a keen surfer and gymnast. ALL AT SEA is her first novel.