Daily Archives: 21/05/2021

BLOG TOUR – Fake (a West Hollywood novel) by Kylie Scott

“Such an easy, sexy read! You’ll fall for Patrick Walsh, just like I did. I guarantee it.”
— Monica Murphy, New York Times bestselling author

Fake, an all new witty and sexy fake relationship, grumpy hero standalone from New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott, is available now!

He walks the red carpet. She’s more familiar with vacuuming one.

When a scandal tarnishes the reputation of hot as hell A-lister, Patrick Walsh, he needs a reputation rescue, pronto.

Enter waitress Norah Peers–a nobody who’s average with a capital A. She’s available, dependable, and has sworn off men for the rest of her natural born life. In other words: the perfect match for a no-strings fake romance.

For the right amount of money, she can avoid waitressing and play the part of his dependable down-to-earth girlfriend. What she can’t avoid–dammit–is the growing steam between them.

But being hounded by the paparazzi and having her life dissected on social media is a panic attack in the making. And while Patrick might be a charming rogue on screen, in real life he’s a six-foot-two confusing, gorgeous, brooding grump, who keeps her at a distance . . . but also makes her feel like this bond between them might be more than just an act.

Being dumped on cue should be no big deal. Except being fake with Patrick is the realist relationship Norah has ever had. What’s a girl to do, but flip the script, and ask for a re-match made in Hollywood?


Read today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2P2liAJ
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/Fake
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2QfG54j
Nook: https://bit.ly/32pTdWT
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3v5gzh8

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3egt0j3


Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

He slunk into the restaurant mid-afternoon wearing his usual scowl. Ignoring the closed sign, he took a booth near the back. No one else was allowed to do this. Just him. Today’s wardrobe consisted of black jeans, Converse, and a button-down shirt. Doubtless designer. And the way those sleeves hugged his biceps . . . why, they should have been ashamed of themselves. I was this close to yelling “get a room.” 

Instead, I asked, “The usual?”

Slumped down in the corner of the booth, he tipped his chin in reply. For such a tall guy, he sure went out of his way to try to hide.

I said no more. Words were neither welcomed nor wanted. Which was fine since (A) I was tired and (B) he tipped well for the peace and quiet.

Out back, Vinnie the cook was busy prepping for tonight, his knife making quick work of an onion.

“He’s here,” I said.

A smile split Vinnie’s face. He was a huge fan of the man’s action films. The ones he’d made before hitting it big time and taking on more serious dramatic roles. Him choosing to visit the restaurant every month or so made Vinnie’s life complete. Especially since the restaurant, Little Italy, was the very definition of a hole in the wall. Not somewhere generally frequented by the Hollywood elite. Meanwhile, I was less of a fan, but still a fan. You know.

“Get him his beer,” Vinnie ordered.

Like I didn’t know my job. Sheesh.

He was busy with his cell by the time I placed the Peroni in front of him. No glass. He drank straight from the bottle like an animal. Just then, a woman in a red sweater dress and tan five-inch-heel booties strode in through the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” I said.

“I’m with him.” She headed straight for his booth and slid into the other side, giving the man a dour look. “You can’t just walk out, Patrick. You’re going to have to choose one of them.”

“Nope.” He took a pull from his beer. “They all sucked.”

“There had to be at least one that would do.”

“Not even a little.”

She sighed. “Keep this up and you’ll be obsolete by next week. Beyond help. Forgotten.”

“Go away, Angie.”

“Just another talented but trash male in Hollywood. That’s what they’re saying on social media.” 

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Liar,” she drawled.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Obviously they knew each other, but he did not seem to want her here. And she really wasn’t supposed to be here. Vinnie had okayed after-hours entry to only one person. On the other hand, if I asked her to leave, she’d probably sic her lawyers on me. She looked the type.

The woman spied me hovering. “Get me a glass of red.”

“She’s not staying,” countermanded Patrick.

Angie didn’t move an inch. “They were all viable options. Pliant. Young. Pretty. Discreet. Nothing weird or kinky in their backgrounds.”

“That might have made them more interesting.”

“Interesting women is what got you into this mess.” The woman frowned, taking me in. Still hovering. One perfectly shaped brow rose in question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Now it was Patrick’s turn to sigh and give me a nod. He was so dreamy with his jaw and cheekbones and his everything. Real classic Hollywood handsome. Especially with his short light brown hair in artful disarray and a hint of stubble. Sometimes it was hard not to stare. Which is probably why his personality tended to scream “leave me alone.”

I headed for the small bar area at the back of the restaurant to fetch the wine like a good little waitress. 

“We shouldn’t be discussing this here,” said Angie, giving the room a disdainful sniff. Talk about judgy. I thought the raw brick walls and chunky wood tables were cool. Give or take Vinnie’s collection of old black-and-white photos of Los Angeles freeways. Who knew what that was about?

Patrick slumped down even further. “I’m not going back there. I’m done with it.”

“This isn’t safe.” Angie looked around nervously. “Let’s—”

“We’re fine. I’ve been coming here for years.”

“You just got dropped from a big-budget film, Patrick,” she said, exasperation in her tone. “The industry may not find you bankable right now, but I’m sure gossip about you is still selling just fine. This week at least.”


About Kylie Scott


Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014 & 2018, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

Connect with Kylie
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2XujcZh
Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2GngiQq
Facebook: http://bit.ly/2OiXx3I
Twitter: http://bit.ly/391pjJM
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Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2S7cc32
Book+Main Bites: http://bit.ly/2ETz5RQ
Stay up to date with Kylie by joining her mailing list:
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Website: https://kyliescott.com/


BLOG TOUR – Wild North (North Brothers #1) by JB Salsbury

Wild North, an all-new angsty romance with a bossy hero and a woman who was born to survive from New York Times bestselling author JB Salsbury is out now!

To me, he was Grizzly.
To the world, I would learn, he’s someone else completely.

I should have died on that mountain.
But he rescued me.

More animal than man, he’s cold, distant, and fiercely territorial. He seems to hate me for simply breathing, and yet, he brought me back to life.

After my return to the city, I can’t stop thinking about him. His rough hands, intense glare, and the way he cared for me as if I meant something to him.

He tells me he’s dangerous. That I’m not safe around him. I would eventually understand why he warned me away. But by then it’s too late. My heart is his.


Grab your copy now!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3a4T53v
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/WildNorth
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3s9EkCB
Nook: https://bit.ly/3eazOip

Add Wild North to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3tu4Sjn


Excerpt

“Do you plan to kill me?” 

I drop my spoon into the bowl and bite back a fierce response. Are you out of your mind, you stupid, stupid girl! “Why would I save you if I’d planned to kill you?” I’m unsuccessful at keeping the anger from my voice. When she doesn’t immediately respond, I slowly turn around to see that she hasn’t touched her food. Her gaze darts to the wall where I store my weapons—buck knives, machetes, multiple hatchets, and a hunting rifle. 

“Those are for hunting.” I eye her untouched food. She must be hungry. Upon further inspection, I see that her face shines with perspiration, and her lips, which had regained their pink color last night, look pale once again. The abrasion on her head has scabbed over and doesn’t look puffy or red. “Are you sick?” I stand and cross to her.

“No, I’m in pain. What are you doing?” 

Having dropped to a squat, I peel back the animal pelts to see if she has any other injuries. She tries to bend her knees, make herself into a protective ball, but she winces in pain, and her legs flop out in front of her. That’s when I notice the dark stain on her gray long johns. “Are you bleeding?” 

“What?” She follows my line of sight to her midsection. “I don’t think so.” 

I grasp the hem of her shirt and wrench the fabric up. 

“Hey, don’t touch me!” She bats at my hands but stops when her gaze lands on the bloody scratches carved into her torso. “I didn’t—”

“Fuck,” I growl and drop her shirt. “Anything else?” 

Her eyes turn to slits, and her pale lips thin. “Like I meant for this to happen?” 

I leave her to grab my first aid kit and throw a shit ton more wood into the woodstove. “Take these.” I hand her an antibiotic and a pain reliever. 

“What are they?” 

“Do you want to die? Because I’d be happy to drag you back out where I found you. If you want to live, take the fucking pills.” I rip clean gauze from its packaging, and once she’s swallowed the pills, I direct her to lie down. 

She keeps a cautious eye on me when I pull up her shirt. The wounds on her stomach and ribcage are mostly superficial. I pull her shirt higher, and she fights me without success. She moans in pain as she lifts her other hand to cover her exposed breast. Where the swell of that breast meets her ribs is an angry red and bloody wound. 

“Lift your arm.” 

Slowly she lifts her arm above her head. “My shoulder is sore. It might be broken.” 

“Dislocated.” I go about cleaning away the old blood around the wound to get a better idea of what I’m dealing with. 

Her gaze snaps to mine. “How do you… You fixed it?” She flinches, and air escapes her clenched teeth when I hit a sensitive area. “I think I remember. The pain, at least.” 

I grab the flashlight in the first aid kit and click it on. “Take this. Hold it right here.” 

She’s a horrible help, the beam of light shines just about everywhere except where I need it. I do my best to clean the area, and that’s when I see something dark protruding from the wound. It can’t be one of her broken ribs, it’s not the right size or color. 

“You’ve been impaled.” 

“Impaled? Are you serious?” 

“I’m always serious.” I hop up and grab a wooden spoon and a pair of needle-nose pliers. I pour boiling water over the pliers and hold the wooden spoon handle to her mouth. 

“What are you doi—”

I shove the wooden spoon between her molars, and her eyes grow wide and panicked. “Bite. This’ll hurt.”

She makes some unintelligible noise that is easy enough to translate. Something like, “Oh, God, no. Please, wait. Give me one more second—”

I rip a piece of wood the size of her pinkie from her body, and she screams behind the wooden spoon. Tears streak down her face, and her breathing is so quick I think she’s going to pass out. Good. She’s easier to work on when she’s out cold. She manages to stay conscious as I stuff the wound with sterile gauze and cover it with medical tape. Her cheeks are wet with tears and sweat, but she doesn’t make a sound when I remove the spoon from her teeth. “Now eat.” 

I reclaim my breakfast seat with my back to her. 

“Thank you,” she pants, probably fighting through residual pain.

My jaw locks down on lukewarm oatmeal. I nod and blow out a tense breath. 

Stuck with a random woman in my space is bad enough. 

Stuck with a dying woman in my space would be worse.


About the Author


JB Salsbury, New York Times Best Selling author of The Fighting Series, lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband and two kids. She spends the majority of her day lost in a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles as stories claw away at her subconscious, begging to be released to the page.

Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance prompted her to write her first novel.

Since 2013 she has published six bestselling novels in The Fighting Series and won a RONE Award.

Connect with JB
Facebook: https://bit.ly/3stLCRV
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3mZRQaR
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3stsCms
Twitter: https://bit.ly/3dtpF0X
Instagram: https://bit.ly/3x7WCbh
Website: http://jbsalsbury.com/


RELEASE BLITZ – Takeover by Evelyn Sola

I’ve known powerful, arrogant men my entire life. Men like Ethan always have to win, no matter the cost, or so I thought. A chance encounter with Ethan and his son has me questioning everything I thought I knew. Readers who enjoy diverse contemporary romances will devour Takeover by Evelyn Sola, an enemies to lovers, single dad, billionaire romance.

Blurb

TARA

I was supposed to be in charge. That was always my intention. 

Until that slick corporate raider, Ethan Bradford, clicked his fancy pen and poof! 

Just like that, I was under him, instead of on top.

Rich and powerful men–especially arrogant, handsome ones–are all the same.

I know exactly how to handle him, but when my father pulls rank and orders me to play nice, my plans of putting him in his place vanish.

I know his type. I’ve been around men like him my entire life, but one chance meeting with him and his son, makes me question everything I thought I knew. 

ETHAN

When it comes to business, I always come out on top. Not even being a single dad can slow me down. I never let a good investment get away, and that includes Taylor Toys. After all, business is business, right?

How was I supposed to know a friendly meeting would set me on fire? Tara Taylor is a spoiled princess, used to getting everything she wants. 

Sure, her good looks and smart mouth turn me on like nothing else. Despite her hostile stares, she triggered feelings I thought were long dead. 

She dares to judge me while she stands there in her designer shoes, looking more beautiful than any marketing exec I’ve ever met. Instead of being grateful that I saved her family’s legacy, she blames me for their failure.

What was meant to be a formality turns into a game of wills. 

I never lose. Except this time, I find myself wanting her more than I want to win. I find myself wanting her to take over. 

Add to Goodreads Here!


Buy Now or Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!


Excerpt

Copyright 2021 Evelyn Sola

He offers me his hand, and when I don’t take it right away, my father elbows me in the ribs. I take his proffered hand, not at all prepared for the goosebumps that cover my skin, or the jolt of electricity that surges through my body. I look down at our hands, his paler skin wrapped around my brown one. And then I go and make a huge mistake. I look into his eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but ocean blue eyes weren’t it. I pull my hand from his, absentmindedly rubbing it against my wool pants. He watches me the entire time. I search his face, trying to find a hint of the arrogance I saw in his pictures, but I don’t find it. He tilts his head a fraction, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. He offers me a smile that is almost my undoing. Perfect white teeth, captivating blue eyes, wrapped up in an expensive suit covered in cologne.
“Tara,” he says as if he’s trying out my name. “I’m Ethan Bradford.”
No nice to meet you, Tara. Just letting me know who he is. There it is. Arrogant son of a bitch.
“Yes,” I say, not bothering to offer him so much as a fake smile. “I’ve heard,” I practically sneer. Luckily, my father, who’s now talking to another person, doesn’t hear my tone. Ethan Bradford doesn’t miss it though. His brows furrow and the smile he previously offered slips. I don’t give him a chance to offer me a snarky comeback. Without another look, I walk away and take my seat at the table.


Buy Now or Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!


About Evelyn Sola

A Boston native, wife, mother, and wine enthusiast. If she’s not writing, thinking about writing, you will find Evelyn with a book in her hands. While a new publisher, she’s been writing for years, and she will continue to write for many years to come.  

Evelyn is obsessed with assertive and confident men who will stop at nothing to get their woman. Her stories are filled with love, passion and humor.

She currently lives in Chicago, IL with her husband and two daughters.

Follow:

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THE WEDDING DILEMMA

by Mariah Ankenman

Publication Date: May 17, 2021

Genres: Entangled: Amara, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3eO4x6m
iBooks: https://apple.co/3ygfRA0
B&N: https://bit.ly/3w8ei5a
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3uUydo3
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3eRtpdg
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/33PVvzi
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/3eS2fmQ

Blurb:

My life has always been pretty predictable. Run into burning buildings, save those in distress, be a hero. Shoot the shit with my fireman buddies, come home, and do it all again tomorrow. Little did I know that a random SOS call from a woman stuck in a plaster cast with nothing underneath (I swear I only caught a flash of skin) would throw me for a complete loop.

Until I see the flighty artist again. At my mom’s engagement party. To her dad.

Suddenly the unpredictable woman I couldn’t stop thinking about is my soon-to-be-stepsister. Yeah, the same one I mortified when I accidentally saw her a tiny bit naked. This should make family gatherings way more interesting.

Except when your mom’s as loaded as mine is, you can never fully let your guard down when a guy comes sniffing around. So I can’t help but be suspicious, even though his daughter’s the perfect blend of beautiful and wild. As we spend more time together, prepping for our parents’ wedding, we both agree that maybe there’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun in the meantime. But if she knew I was investigating her dad on the side, she would never forgive me…


Buy Links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3eO4x6m

iBooks: https://apple.co/3ygfRA0

B&N: https://bit.ly/3w8ei5a

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3uUydo3

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3eRtpdg

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/33PVvzi

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/3eS2fmQ

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2RnKzX9



Excerpt:

“Mind if I use your restroom before we dive into planning?” He asked once he closed the dishwasher back up.

She quickly adverted his gaze, hoping he hadn’t caught her shamefully staring at his backside. “Of course, it’s down the hall on the left.”

Tamsen grabbed the notebook with the few ideas she’d started to write down for the party and sat at the table going over the notes she’d made. After a few minutes, she glanced up and checked the clock on the stove. Parker had been in the bathroom a while. She hoped she didn’t mix up some ingredient in the casserole and give him stomach problems. She didn’t have as many cooking disasters stories as she did art project stories, but there had been a few. The salt instead of sugar incident of 2013, last year’s baking soda disaster cupcake fail, and the expired milk episode on her father’s sixtieth birthday. That one still haunted her.

Wanting to check and make sure everything was okay—at this rate she would need to change her name and move to some remote island to avoid further embarrassing herself in front of this man—Tamsen hurried down the hall to check on Parker.

But he wasn’t in the bathroom.

The only bathroom in the apartment was empty, the light off. As she made her way down the hall, she was surprised to see Parker standing in the doorway of her room staring intently at the sketches and easel set up in the corner by the large window. It got the best light in the apartment, so it’s where she did most of her drawing and painting.

She cleared her throat loudly, gaining some satisfaction form the small jump in the corded muscles of Parker’s back. He turned with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

She raised one eyebrow.

“Okay, I did. I saw a light on and…” he waved an arm, encompassing her art. “Tamsen, these are amazing.”

Her cheeks heated, warmth and pride filling her at his compliment. “Thank you.”

“I’m not an art aficionado, but these are…powerful.” He stared at the drawings again. “I don’t know if that makes sense, it’s just the word that pops into my head as I look at them.”

“Whatever emotion you feel is the goal,” she answered, coming to stand beside him. “That’s the beauty of art. It’s interpretive. The artist may create one thing, but it truly comes to life in the observed. Whatever it makes you feel, it’s right.”

“Are these all for that human body project you were talking about?”

“Some of them.”

They were all sketches of the human body. Some drawn from life, some from pictures, others she created in her head.

“Life drawing is one of the first things they teach you in art school, but I’ve always been drawn to the complexity of the human form. How different we all are. How similar. The curves and angles, big and small. Each body catering to the soul inside it. I love capturing that soul on paper. Every subject brings new insight. I…I’d love to draw you sometime.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her mouth had started to ramble again. Running away without her brain. Why had she said that? Yes, she did want to draw Parker, but that didn’t mean she had to tell him about it. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him about all the naughty dreams she’d been having involving him or the sketches she’d already drawn of him…

 The heat of his body enveloped her as he moved in closer. She felt the brush of his lips against her ear. A shiver of pleasure running up her spine as his warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck as he spoke.

“You want to draw me? How about in the buff? That can be arranged.”



About the Author:

Bestselling author Mariah Ankenman lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with her two rambunctious daughters and loving husband who provides ample inspiration for her heart-stopping heroes. Her books have been nominated for the prestigious RWA Golden Heart® and CRW Stiletto awards. Whether she’s writing hometown heroes or sexy supernaturals, Mariah loves to lose herself in a world of words. Her favorite thing about writing is when she can make someone’s day a little brighter with one of her books.

Social Media Links:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Newsletter | Bookbub | Goodreads | Amazon Author Profile


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