Daily Archives: 14/03/2020

NEW RELEASE – Royal Rebel (The Haldonia Monarchy Trilogy #1 ) by Laramie Briscoe

Title: Royal Rebel
Series: The Haldonia Monarchy Trilogy #1
Author: Laramie Briscoe
Genre: Royal Romance
Release Date: March 7, 2020
Blurb
Tristan
I knew what I would get when I turned twenty-five.A wife.
A monarchy.

And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted either one of them.

Amelia

At twenty-three I knew it was my duty to serve.

A King.
The people.

The one thing I never counted on? Falling in love with my husband.


Purchase Links
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Coming Soon
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU


Author Bio
Laramie Briscoe is the best-selling author of the Heaven Hill Series & the Rockin’ Country Series.Since self-publishing her first book in May of 2013, Laramie Briscoe has published over 10 books. She’s appeared on the Top 100 Bestselling E-books Lists on iBooks, Amazon Kindle, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. She’s been called “a very young Maya Banks” (Amazon reviewer) and her books have been accused of being “sexy, family-oriented, romances with heart”.When she’s not writing alpha males who seriously love their women, she loves spending time with friends, reading, and marathoning shows on her DVR. Married to her high school sweetheart, Laramie lives in Bowling Green, KY with her husband (the Travel Coordinator) and a sometimes crazy cat named Beau.

Author Links


BLOG TOUR – The Trophy Wife by Sunday Tomassetti

Amazon  

“I’ve done something terrible.” 
On a foggy Palm Beach morning, Cate Cabot waits at a local cafe to meet her best friend for coffee—and a confession. At least that’s what Cate assumes based on the frantic voicemail Odessa left her earlier that morning. 
Only Odessa never shows. 
And when Cate drives to her home she finds no trace of her. In fact, Odessa isn’t just missing—it’s suddenly as if she never existed in the first place. Even the staff who run her palatial home in the gated Paradise Cove community are claiming Cate must be mistaken, confused. 
As Cate searches high and low for her friend who vanished into thin air on the cusp of a mysterious admission, the only thing she finds … is that the truth might be more terrible than she ever could have imagined. 
Liking Odessa was easy. Admiring her perfect life, easier so. But finding her? It’s going to be downright impossible without untangling the cryptic web of lies the missing trophy wife left in her wake.

It’s late, and Mrs. DuVernay is in a mood again.

She steps out of her heels as if they disgust her, kicking them askew as she makes her way to her dressing room on the other side of her bedroom. I scramble to grab her shoes, waiting for her to peel out of the day’s clothes and emerge in her favorite silk robe with her initials monogrammed over the right breast.

She’s taking longer than usual to undress today, nothing but huffs and sighs coming from the other side of the doorway. If I had to guess, she’s gained a few pounds. That always seems to send her into a quiet fit when she’s changing. I imagine her examining her tall, thin body from the three angles of her mirror, hugging the shoes against my chest as I wait to go in.

Mrs. DuVernay sighs when she finally comes out a minute later, bare feet covered in red markings from the day spent out and about in killer heels. Markings, I’m convinced, she no longer feels. I tried them on once, when she wasn’t looking—her favorite pair of shoes, the black ones with the teal bottoms. In less than ten steps, I swear I had a blister forming on the back of one of my heels.

“My drink, Zsofia,” she says, hands on her hips as she peers around her bedroom with raised eyebrows and flattened lips.

I nod toward her vanity, where her usual—a dry white wine with a splash of organic pineapple juice—rests on a vintage coaster made of rhinoceros ivory.

Mrs. DuVernay swipes her drink off the table, taking it with her into the master en suite. I carry her shoes into the closet, praying I can locate the correct place for them before she yells for me to fetch her a heated facial towel from the warmer in the spa.

This past Friday, she had two professionals come and sort through her closet—a stylist and an organizer. One helped her create toss/sell/donate piles and the other reconfigured the rest of her things to the point where I can’t find half of what she sends me to retrieve now.

An empty red shoebox with its top misaligned is situated in the middle of the closet. Dropping to my knees, I place the heels neatly inside, fasten the lid, and find the proper spot for it amongst the others along her expansive wall of designer shoes.

“Zsofia,” she calls from the next room, her tone flat and void of emotion.

I leave the closet to find her at the vanity, the day washed off of her face and a thick mask of rosehip stem cells and sea kelp on her face, sinking into her pore-less, ageless, glass-like complexion.

“I’ll be right back with a towel.” I head to the spa room at the end of the hall.

Mrs. DuVernay prefers to have her facialists, masseuses, and manicurists come to the house so she can beautify in private, though I believe it has more to do with the falling-out she had with her group of friends a few years back. They always used to schedule their pampering appointments together. After the squabble, Mrs. DuVernay couldn’t bear to be seen alone and friendless in her favorite beauty haunts, so she persuaded Charles to turn one of the spare bedrooms into a home spa. Not that it took much convincing—Mrs. DuVernay controls the purse strings around here, as much as she prefers to flit around like a Palm Shores trophy wife.

It’s just another act of hers.

Like everything else.

I tiptoe down the hall to the spa room, retrieving a couple of damp wash cloths from the towel warmer on the back counter, and I bring them to her, stepping a few feet back as she breathes in the soft, lavender-scented steam and wipes away the exotic remains of her skincare routine.

When she’s finished, she hands them off, reaches for her wine, and shuffles to her bed, her snow-colored silk robe billowing behind her with every leggy step.

“That’s all for tonight, Zsofia.” She waves me off as she climbs beneath a mountain of high-thread count bed coverings. “Oh. One more thing. Tell Charles it’s time to come to bed on your way out.”

“Yes, Mrs. DuVernay.” I shut the door behind me without making a sound so as not to wake Aviana down the hall. Lord knows teenagers need their rest, and she can be a bit of a bear to deal with in the morning. As her human alarm clock, I prefer that she not be overly tired come six AM. It certainly makes my job a lot easier.

I run my palm along the polished banister on my way down, careful not to make a sound this time of night, when the house has quieted and settled and every footstep or cleared throat reverberates. Once I arrive on the main floor, I head for Mr. DuVernay’s study—a room placed in the farthest reaches of the house, so Charles can play his jazz music and strum on his prized collection of rare guitars without disturbing his headache-prone wife.

Rapping on the outside of the door, I wait for him to answer.

The other side is quiet tonight. No jazz records. No clumsy, six-string chords.

I knock once more, holding my breath as I wait in silence.

Perhaps he isn’t in there?

Twisting the door knob, I crack the door a few inches to check. “Mr. DuVernay?”

With no response, I push the door wider, peeking my entire head in to look around. The room is dark save for the floor lamp in the corner, and the curtains are open, showcasing a view of the water from the floor-to-ceiling windows on his east-facing wall. Boat lights sparkle, their reflections swaying in the distance on the buoying Atlantic. I’ve always thought it seemed dangerous to boat late at night. Then again, I’ve never boated in my life. What would I know?

Peering around the room one last time, I draw in a sharp breath when my gaze comes to him lying on the sofa, still as a statue, fast asleep. Peaceful because he’s anywhere but here.

Padding across the room without a sound, I make my way to him, a slow smile bending my mouth as I watch him sleep.

Charles is an impossibly handsome man; generous brown hair with salt-and-peppered temples, chiseled chin, sun-kissed complexion, runner’s body much younger than his physical age. When he isn’t having an ‘off’ day, he’s a force to be reckoned with, a personality much larger than the room Mrs. DuVernay keeps him confined to most of the time. Charles’ smile alone has turned some of my worst days into some of my brightest, and I live for his eyes—ocean blue on the outside with a ring of hazel in the middle—like they can’t decide what they want to be.

A man like this is wasted on Mrs. DuVernay.

He deserves better.

She deserves worse.

“Mr. DuVernay,” I say his name on the breath of a whisper before placing my fingertips on his shoulder, giving him three light taps. “Mrs. DuVernay would like you to come to bed.”

His dark lashes flutter as his eyes open, and then he squints, focusing on me.

“Ah. It’s you,” he says, placing his hand over mine, gentle and unrushed. “Is my wife asleep yet?”

I swallow the rigid protuberance that has suddenly found a home in my throat. “No, sir.”

Charles pulls himself to a standing position, his gaze never abandoning mine, not for one second. “Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it?”

Our eyes hold for a moment, and I stifle the knowing smile that threatens to curl my lips. He and I both know that the DuVernay household is a serene place when the missus is sleeping—or better yet: off on one of her solo vacations. There are more smiles when she’s away. More laughter. Less tension. More living. Less silent suffering.

We’re both prisoners of circumstance.

Prisoners with very different privileges.

Prisoners of Mrs. DuVernay.

“Goodnight, Zsofia,” he says before striding to the door. “Get some rest.”

I wait alone in his study for a beat, and then I shut off his lamp and close the door on my way out. He’s gone by the time I reach the hall, leaving nothing but the faintest trail of his posh Italian cologne.

Tiptoeing through the darkened DuVernay residence, I make my way to the apartment above the garage—the only home I’ve ever known.

Home sweet prison cell.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sunday Tomassetti is the pseudonym of a Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, Amazon Charts, and #1 Amazon bestselling author who wanted an outlet for her passion projects. A thirty-something married mother of three, Sunday resides in the midwest where you can always find her hard at work on her next novel.
Sunday is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.



RELEASE BLITZ – Changing Roles by Melanie Moreland

Title: Changing Roles
Author: Melanie Moreland
Genre: Contemporary/Romantic Comedy
Release Date:
Photographer: Eric D. Battershell
Model: Corey Mortensen
Design: Monark Design Services

Lights! Camera! Clueless! 

Liam Wright is Hollywood’s golden boy and at the top of the A-list.
But what he doesn’t know about life…
Well, it could fill his very large Hollywood mansion. Thankfully, he’s got Shelby Carter in his world to keep him—and his house—camera-ready.
Part confidante, part master chef, Shelby is his best friend and the only one who knows the real Liam.
Pampered, pretty, and often puzzled,
Liam and his antics keep her on her toes, and there is never a dull moment living with him.
Until one day, Liam sees her as more…and he wants her to see him for the man he can be.The man he wants to be.
For her.
Is Liam up for the part?
Brand new standalone Contemporary Romantic Comedy from New York Times Bestselling author Melanie Moreland



CHECK OUT 3 EXCERPTS ON  BOOK + MAIN BITES


BLP REVIEW – Tracy

Melanie Moreland never disappoints…..

Changing Roles was a fab friends-to-lovers story that was packed with humour, heat, heart and just a little angst.

I adored Liam and his realisation about how he felt about Shelby had him changing steadily but quietly. The character is British and I thought for a Canadian author Melanie did a great job on his language and humour, it’s not often that a non-Brit captures the essence and peculiarities of such a character!

Shelby was awesome. After the end of a marriage gone wrong she ends up in LA with the help of her family. From the minute she meets Liam they hit it off and they soon become great friends who have a wonderful relationship… until things start to change for both of them.

I got Shelby’s apprehension about her age and what people would say about her but I loved how Liam thought about her and his lack of concern for others opinions. They were a perfect pair and balanced each other so well.

A great supporting cast of characters, fantastic banter and nicknames between the MCs and some incidents, that sadly are not fiction in real life for some, all added up to a 5* read for me and one that I would happily recommend.


New York Times/Wall Street Journal/USA Today bestselling author Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of twenty-seven-plus years and their rescue cat, Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them. 
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip. 
Melanie loves stories, especially paired with a good wine, and enjoys skydiving (free falling over a fleck of dust) extreme snowboarding (falling down stairs) and piloting her own helicopter (tripping over her own feet.) She’s learned happily ever afters, even bumpy ones, are all in how you tell the story.
Melanie is represented by Flavia Viotti at Bookcase Literary Agency. For any questions regarding subsidiary or translation rights please contact her atflavia@bookcaseagency.com



HOSTED BY:

RELEASE BLITZ – Taming Hollywood’s Baddest Boy by Max Monroe

THBB - RB banner

Do people say they hate someone’s guts so that they can still fall stupidly, head-over-heels in love with the other parts?

Asking for a friend.

Taming Hollywood’s Baddest Boy, an all-new hilarious enemies to lovers standalone from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is available now!

Taming Hollywood_s Baddest Boy(final cover)

Okay, fine. I’m not asking for a friend.

I’m asking for me—and I’m begging you to tell me that the practice of falling in love with your should-be-enemy is common.

Please tell me that I’m not the only person to track down a guy—who used to be Hollywood’s baddest bad boy before he left LA for good—at his off-the-grid cabin in Alaska, show up unannounced, and find him gloriously naked.

This probably happens all the time…right?

Tell me I’m not alone in my stupidity—that I’m not the only woman who would fall for gorgeous blue eyes and a sexy devilish smirk, even if they belong to a broody, mysterious jerk.

Please. Please. Please. Tell me I’m not alone in this.

For the love of everything, I need all the supportive girl power I can get if I’m going to convince Luca Weaver to come back to Hollywood—otherwise known as the place he hates so much that he ghosted Oscar-level success and escaped to no-man’s-land for the last eight years just to avoid it.

Yeah, don’t worry—that smoke you’re smelling isn’t your house catching fire as you read this…it’s just my career and what was previously known as my heart going up in flames.

Gah. Is it just me, or am I totally, completely, and utterly screwed?


THBB RB- AN 99c

Download your copy today for only 99¢ or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2U1vlUW

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TamingHBB

Add TAMING HOLLYWOOD’S BADDEST BOY to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2U46YI7


About Max Monroe

A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.

Connect with Max Monroe

BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK

Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS

Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW

Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau

Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/


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