Category Archives: Trailer

RELEASE BLITZ ~ Intimate Intuition (Lotus House #6) by Audrey Carlan

 

Title: Intimate Intuition
Series: Lotus House #6
Author: Audrey Carlan

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 8, 2018
 
Blurb

 

Silas McKnight is the owner of multi-million-dollar musical production company Knight & Day Productions. He’s rich, attractive, and loyal to his core. He’s the man every woman wants but none can have. He’s suffered immeasurable loss, and he doesn’t plan on ever going through that hell again.Dara Jackson, the quirky, stunning meditation teacher at Lotus House Yoga, is also the owner of Sunflower Bakery. She’s always dreamed of being a baker—and a mother. Having grown up an orphan, Dara knows what being alone and feeling unwanted is like.

Silas and Dara meet one fated night and spend a single evening worshiping each other’s bodies. All is beautiful until Dara discovers a secret and disappears before the sheets are even cold. Except Dara and Silas can’t escape one another. Destiny has spoken, and these two are about to become far more intimate than they ever thought possible.

 

 


 
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Releasing June 26, 2018
 
AMAZON: US / UK / CA / AU
 


Author Bio

Audrey Carlan is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling

author. She writes wicked hot love stories that are designed to give the reader a romantic experience that’s sexy, sweet, and so hot your e-reader might melt. Some of her works include the wildly successful Calendar Girl Serial, the Trinity Trilogy and the highly anticipated International Guy Serial.
 
She lives in the California Valley where she enjoys her two children and the love of her life. When she’s not writing, you can find her teaching yoga, sipping wine with her “soul sisters” or with her nose stuck in a wicked hot romance novel.
 
 
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BLOG TOUR ~ His Pawn by Emily Snow

His Pawn by Emily Snow is LIVE!!

Release Date: May 3rd
Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

NOW AVAILABLE!! 99¢ and FREE ON KU!!

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BLURB:

That’s what he said when he discovered that, with five months of college left, I was cut off. Young, wickedly handsome, and politically incorrect, he was unlike any man I ever met. And his proposition to cover my tuition in exchange for a semester of “anything goes” was offensive and thrilling.

If you’re wondering if I told him off—if the night ended with me slapping that delicious smirk right off his face—that didn’t happen.

Instead, I decided to be practical.

My name is Eleanor Courtney, and I’m the first to admit my mistakes. Agreeing to crawl into bed with the devil in a designer suit might be my biggest ever. Because he said something else to me that night:

“I don’t want to sleep with you, Elle, that would be too easy. I want to possess you.”

And Senator Graham Delaney—well, he always gets exactly what he wants.

*Disclaimer: A small portion of this 85,000 word standalone was previously published as Maya St James.


 


Excerpt:

“You know, you talk about sex so much it makes me question if you’re one of those all talk, lame action situations.”

“May I?” He extends his hand, gesturing for mine. Warily, I place my fingers in his and release a yelp when he pulls it under the table, pressing my palm against his zipper. He closes my fingers, one by one, around the unquestionable—and admittedly very, very impressive—bulge.

Wow.

“That’s not hard either,” he informs me in a low voice, “but if you’re doubtful of my ability to make you forget your fucking name, how to walk, how to eat—and everything else but yes, please, and more—it won’t take long for you to get me there.”

“So that’s why you invited me to dinner, huh?” I snatch my fingers back and grab a handful of my dress to ease the electricity under my skin. It doesn’t help, and I’ve got a feeling I’ll be undone for the rest of the night all thanks to what’s hidden under Graham’s zipper. “To screw me? I guess I had you all wrong.”

“If I wanted only to fuck you, Elle, it wouldn’t have mattered where I took you for dinner—or if I fed you at all.” He whips the plate cover off my food. “Hope you like steak.”



Author Bio:

Emily Snow is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotic, new adult, and contemporary romance. She loves books, sexy bad boys, and really loud rock music, so naturally, she writes stories about all three. She lives in Virginia with her husband, children, and one very energetic Yorkie-Poo.

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Hotel O by Clarissa Wild

Title: Hotel O
Author: Clarissa Wild

Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: May 1, 2018
 
Blurb
 
Pleasure is business.

That’s our motto here at Hotel O.
No strings attached gratification is what we provide. Nothing is off limits.
And all of it stays within these walls.
My job as the organizer of these events requires a personal sacrifice.
Girlfriends are a liability I can’t afford.
So I get my own satisfaction somewhere else.
Online.
Anonymous.
Nothing beyond a one-night stand …
And I’ve found the perfect toy to play with.
A persistent, equally wicked girl that I can’t say no to.
The girl who’s going to make me risk it all.
 
Welcome to Hotel O … Enjoy your stay.
 

Author’s Note:
Hotel O is complete and utter filthiness. Expect lots of debauchery … with multiple people. Please do not read if you’re easily offended or do not enjoy romances that explore the boundaries of depravity … Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
 
 

 
 
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Excerpt
 
Within seconds, the door handle clicks, and I hold my breath in anticipation.
A man in a black suit and a red tie steps in. The door shuts behind him.
My eyes glide over his body, and his glide over mine. His face is also hidden behind a mask.
He’s tall, and his hair is thick and dark, just like his voice when he says, “Hello, Kitten …”
I’m struck with awe at the sound of his voice. It’s real. It’s him.
That same shiver runs up and down my spine as he approaches me slowly.
In a split second, images of violence flash through my mind. All the possible things that could happen. All the things he could do to me.
We’re alone, in a hotel room, and neither of us know each other by name.
He could do anything he wanted.
Take me.
Use me. Lock me up.
Kill me.
And no one would ever know it was him.
The perfect setting for the perfect crime.
Yet I’m not afraid of him.
I’m only afraid of my own reaction to what’s about to go down.
Meeting him was the only thing I wanted, and now that it’s finally happening, I wonder if it’ll be enough. If I can satiate my needs without crossing the line.
He comes even closer, but I don’t move an inch. I don’t know if it’s because I’m scared, or if it’s because my body feels as if it’s made of rocks and ice.
I shudder when he stands across from the bed, leans against the dresser, and casually slides his eyes from the tips of my toes hidden in black heels all the way up to my high ponytail without any shame.
His tongue dips out to wet his lips, and for a second there, I wish he licked mine instead.
He cocks his head. “So this is what you want?”
I nod and part my lips to say something, but nothing springs to mind. Nothing important … except for the fact I want him to fuck me raw.

 

 

 

Author Bio

 

Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of Dark Romance and Contemporary Romance novels. She is an avid reader and writer of swoony stories about dangerous men and feisty women.
Her other loves include her hilarious husband, her two crazy but cute dogs, and her ninja cat that sometimes thinks he’s a dog too. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, playing video games, reading tons of books, and cooking her favorite meals.

 

 
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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Anonymous by L.P. Dover

 

 
Title: Anonymous
Standalone
Author: L.P. Dover

Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: April 23, 2018
 
 

 

Blurb
Every person has a story to tell. Some may be sweet with a happily ever after, but there are others that end in tragedy. Mine has yet to be finished. My name is Elizabeth Kingston and this is where my story begins.
I never thought my life could be so perfect. I have an amazing job owning my own bakery, and a wonderful husband who I love and who loves me back. Never once did I have to worry about anything, at least, not until the texts started coming in. They always begin the same way … numbers that spell my nickname when read upside down.
31773
It’s someone from my past, only they won’t to tell me who they are, but that by talking to them, I’ll figure it out. It’s a game I refuse to play. Unfortunately, I’m left with no choice when things begin to take a dangerous turn. His name is Anonymous and there’s only one thing he wants … ME. 

 
 


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Excerpt

It’s closing time and Vikki and I are busy cleaning, so we can get home. My phone beeps with an incoming text and I look down at it and growl.
“You can’t be serious.” Staring back at me isn’t a text from Jake, but from Anonymous. Even though I deleted and blocked the number ninety days ago, I still recognize it.
Vikki moves closer, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”
I show her the text.
Anonymous: 31773?
Brows furrowed, she sits back. “What does that mean?” I turn my phone upside down, so she can see that the number spells out my name. Her eyes widen. “Wow, that’s cool you can type your name with numbers.”
“But not so cool when I don’t know who the person is,” I counter. “About three months ago, I got texts from this exact same person.
Whoever it is likes to play games. I’m sick of it and I want them to leave me alone.” Taking a deep breath, I type out a reply.
Me: WHO IS THIS?
Anonymous: Why all the yelling?
I roll my eyes. This is just ridiculous.
Me: I like using all caps.
Anonymous: Don’t stop on my account. So, what have you been up to? Been a while since we talked.
Me: Yeah, it’s because I blocked the number.
Anonymous: Why?
Me: BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!!!!!!
“What is he saying?” Vikki asks. I show her the texts and her eyes widen. “So, you haven’t talked to him since you blocked the number?”
I think back to when I blocked it and if my calculations are correct, the ninety days was up yesterday. “No, but he has perfect timing. My ninety days ran up yesterday. I might need to run to the cell store and see if they can block it permanently.”
My phone beeps again and a sharp pain settles in my gut. I just want whoever it is to leave me alone.
Anonymous: That hurts. You’ve always been friendly toward me.
Me: Obviously not friendly enough, if you can’t tell me who you are. It’s weird and it makes me uncomfortable. You need to leave me the hell alone. Don’t text, call, or try to contact me in any way. I’m happily married, and I want it to stay that way. GOODBYE!
Heart racing, I log into my cell phone account and before I can block the number, another text comes through.
Anonymous: Sorry 31773 but that’s not going to happen.
The blood in my veins runs cold. Hands shaking, I block his number and my phone drops onto the table. Vikki picks it up and reads the final text, her face growing pale.
“I don’t think this person’s going away.”
 
 




 

Author Bio
New York Times and USA Today bestselling New York Times and USA Today bestselling author L. P. Dover is a southern belle living in North Carolina with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she began her literary journey she worked in periodontics, enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.

 
She loves to write, but she also loves to play golf, go on mountain hikes and white water rafting, and has a passion for singing. Her two youngest fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime, usually Christmas carols.
 
Dover has written countless novels, including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, the Armed & Dangerous series, the Royal Shifters series, the Society X series, the Circle of Justice series, and her standalone novels It Must’ve Been the Mistletoe and Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense, but if she got to choose a setting in which to live, it would be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
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CHAPTER REVEAL ~ Knave by Jane Henry & Maisy Archer

 

 

 

 

 

Sabrina: Good guys save the day and criminals go to jail. It’s not rocket science, people.

But then my father’s killed, I’m rescued by a thief, and my worldview is shattered. He takes me to his penthouse. His bed. I don’t have to like it but I can’t help it. His touch is everything a good girl like me shouldn’t want.

Anson: Good and bad mean nothing to a master thief. I take what I want, and what I want is vengeance. No more, no less.

Maybe the girl can help, so I’ll hide her. Protect her. And if I have to manhandle her to keep her quiet, she’ll deal. Hell, she might even like it. But she’ll learn fast that I make the rules.

 


Manhattan
“3, 2, 1… And, security systems are down,” Walker said, his voice with its lilting accent magnified over the tiny communication device in my ear, so that it sounded like he was sitting right next to me. “Daly, you’re up.”
No shit. I rolled my eyes as I employed the tiny laser cutting tool to make a hole in the glass window just large enough for me to slip through. Dangling from a cable four stories above the ground in the middle of a bright, moonlit night was not the best time to start contemplating your life choices, but it seemed to happen every time I worked with these guys; which was to say, twenty-four-seven for the past six months.
“I’m in,” I whispered, pushing the suction holder I’d clamped to the freshly-cut glass disk and reaching my arm into the cooler, drier air of the office. With practiced ease, I levered myself headfirst through the hole, twisting to land lightly on my feet. I set the now useless glass gently on the floor, removed the rappelling cable that tethered me to the roof, and stood silently in the empty office, taking a second to get my bearings, to let my eyes adjust to the relative darkness, and to let my body, sweating from the humid night outside, cool for a second.
“Daly, report.” As always, Xavier’s cool, imperious voice drove me bonkers.
“Report,” I muttered. “Because I’m your freakin’ minion, X.” The comm device, created by Walker to detect the slightest sound, obviously caught my words, but other than Caelan’s reproachful sigh, nobody replied.
Six months, the five of us had been living and working together, and I couldn’t say it had made much difference in my attitude. I still preferred to work alone, and it still bugged the crap out of me that I had four other voices in my head while I was on a job, but I had no one to blame for the situation but myself. I’d answered the invitation that January night, after all, and I’d agreed to stay even after Eugenia Carmichael’s videotaped last will and testament had thrown my life into a tailspin.
“Office is empty,” I said, after a beat or two of silence where I glanced around the empty surfaces of the desk and bookcase behind me. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been working here. I was able to cut the window in a low visibility location. No direct views from inside or outside, thanks to the Rosenberg building next door being under renovation. Ethan’s intel was good.”
This would buy us crucial time before the office staff of Stuart Fowler Real Estate, LLC, caught on to the fact that they’d been the victims of a break-in.
“Of course it’s good,” Ethan huffed. “I didn’t spend two whole days in that place as the world’s most overqualified temp just to provide you bad information.”
I had to smirk at his little snit, mostly because nobody could see me. Ethan was every bit as good at his job—a cross between reconnaissance and high-key scamming—as I was at mine, but where my role in our little gang involved dressing in black gear and a full-coverage face mask like the one I wore tonight, Ethan’s usually involved wearing an expensive suit and an overly-friendly smile.
“Still wish it didn’t have to happen when the moon was this high,” I grumbled to no one in particular, repeating an argument I’d already made earlier in the week. “Moonlit night in July makes people want to take a walk and look around.”
“And like I told you, the phases of the moon refuse to change no matter how much I try to persuade them to,” Ethan said with an affected sigh. “But if we don’t get the information from the safe tonight, it’s gonna be too late. Now that Fowler’s dead, his attorney’s going to be cleaning out his office and opening the safe to disburse his assets, likely as soon as tomorrow.”
I knew Ethan was right, but I’d be damned before I’d admit it.
“I’m heading to the outer office,” I said instead, moving toward the door. “We’re sure internal door alarms are off?” I was already betting my life on Walker knowing his shit, a pretty safe bet considering he was probably the best hacker on the planet, but old habits died hard, and I really didn’t like relying on anyone but myself.
“I already told you I own the system. You doubting my prowess with the keyboard?” Walker grumbled, his accent thickening when he was put out. “It hurts, man. Just for that, I’m disabling the WiFi in your room and cutting your free premium cable channels.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, placing my hand on the door handle and turning it. Like I gave the first shit about getting free premium cable and WiFi. Thanks to Eugenia Carmichael and her billions, all five of us were now the joint owners of Manhattan’s swankiest penthouse and financially set for life… just as long as we managed to complete the task she’d left us. A task which seemed more and more like the labors of Hercules as the months passed.
I silently eased the door open a crack and stood still again, taking the measure of the room. I didn’t just listen for sounds or heavy breathing, despite the wisecracks Ethan and Walker liked to make, but tried to sense disturbances, picking up on the vibrations that people (and even unforeseen security measures) sometimes gave off. It was a crucial task for any thief who planned to spend his golden years anywhere but a six-by-eight cell.
The room smelled like strawberry candies, and cheap cologne so strong I almost sneezed.
“Daly, you’re on a clock here,” Xavier reminded me needlessly, and my nostrils instinctively flared as I fought the urge to tell him exactly where he could shove his clock. Walker’s jokes were annoying, Ethan’s overly-perceptive friendliness grated, and Caelan’s silent watchfulness made me uncomfortable, but all of them had earned my loyalty over the past six months. The only person in our quintet that I hadn’t warmed to even a fraction was Xavier Malone, heir apparent of the Madison Avenue Malones and douchebag extraordinaire. Walker, Ethan, and Caelan—a former MMA fighter and personal security guard—had all proved their usefulness to our team, as had I, but somehow Xavier’s useless ass had appointed himself our leader.
I wasn’t sure why nobody else minded this as much as I did.
“Shut the fuck up and let me do my job, X,” I retorted.
“X-av-ier. Three syllables, Daly,” he corrected in the fake-bored voice he used when he was all pissed off, and I smiled in satisfaction before I stopped myself.
Legit, was this my life, where calling a high-profile venture capitalist by a hated nickname was how I got my kicks in the middle of a job that could land me in prison?
Jesus.
But even so, I couldn’t resist adding in a whisper, “Did I hurt your feels, honey?”
“I’m gonna hurt both of you if you don’t shut the fuck up and get this done,” Caelan interjected, silencing both of us immediately. Caelan, despite all his bulk and some formidable fighting skills I’d seen in action, had the longest fuse of anyone I’d ever met. When he was finally pushed to the breaking point, it was as effective as an ice bath.
“Reception area is clear,” I said, stepping forward. “I’m going down the hall to Fowler’s office.”
“Remember, code for the office door is 0-0-7-0-1. The safe is on the wall behind the God-awful nude,” Ethan said. “You’re gonna have to use the digital code device…”
“Walker prepped me on the device,” I interrupted, my voice a bare breath of sound as I tread noiselessly down the hall. And I hadn’t needed much of a tutorial to begin with. My memory was nearly photographic, and I’d used similar devices a number of times in the past, for God’s –
Thunk.
“What’s that?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure the sound was audible to anyone else. For a split second, my pulse pounded, and I froze in place, worried there was someone moving in Fowler’s office at the end of the corridor, but then the HVAC system hummed to life, blanketing the room with recycled air. I took a deep breath.
“Daly, report,” Xavier demanded, and for once I wasn’t pissed off about it.
“False alarm, just the A/C kicking in,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest.
“Caelan, you’ve got the van in place?” Xavier asked. His voice sounded strained, and for just one second, I let myself wonder what it must be like to feel like you were in charge of a job and know that there was almost nothing you could do to control the outcome, once the game was in play. Huh. For a control freak like Xavier, that had to be a bitch.
“Yep. Got the van parked in the loading zone with a cold lemonade once Daly’s got the documents,” Caelan replied. “Gotta get this beast in for service,” he said fondly, and I could almost hear him petting the steering wheel as he spoke.
The surveillance van was Caelan’s baby, one of the first things he’d purchased on behalf of Masters’ Security Systems, Inc., the security company Xavier had ‘founded’ as a handy cover for our after-hours jobs, and he refused to let any of us even sit behind the wheel.
In some ways, that van and the company it represented were like the sixth member of our band—the one that gave us the respectable façade necessary to hack systems, break and enter locked buildings, and indulge in a little espionage. People actually paid us to test their security systems—both physical and technological—for weaknesses. We were officially known as white-hat thieves and hackers, and our company had quickly earned a reputation for providing the best personal and corporate security money could buy.
No one seemed to suspect that we spent our free time in similar, unsanctioned pursuits.
I crept down the hallway, listening outside each office as I passed, but all was silent. I took a second to curse the air conditioner, which blew strong enough to rustle papers on desks, and was totally throwing me off my game.
Not that any of this was a game—not since Eugenia Carmichael, widow of Federal Judge Trevor Carmichael, stared down at us from that television screen and calmly discussed her own impending murder.
“I’m about to die, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, gentlemen. The people who’ll kill me don’t care that I’m old or rich. They don’t care that I haven’t long to live in any case, or that the only reason I’ve hung on this long is to get justice for my sweet husband. They’ll make my death seem like the simplest accident or the most natural death imaginable, just like they did for my Trevor. Just like they did for your mother, Anson Daly. Your brother, Ethan Warner. Your fiancée, Caelan Jamison. Your best friend, Walker Smith. And your sister, Xavier Malone.
“They’re soulless bastards, and their greedy tentacles reach into every branch of law enforcement, every institution meant to protect the population from evil men. But when the good folks can’t be trusted, what’s a woman like me to do? I’ll tell you, gents. You gather together a team of criminals. A cat burglar, a computer expert, a bodyguard who’s not afraid to fight, a con-artist… and the greatest criminal of all, a Wall Street investor to lead them.”
I shook my head as I checked the last office on the right and wished I could have known Eugenia Carmichael. Rich as fuck, batty as hell, and the kind of person I’d have liked to have on my team.
“All the other offices are empty,” I whispered. “Entering Fowler’s office.”
I stared down at the keypad and blinked. “Uh, Ethan, what’s it mean if the door is open?” I demanded.
“Impossible. Security system won’t set unless his door is closed,” Ethan said confidently. “Had to stick my tongue down Becca the receptionist’s throat and practically propose marriage to learn that little tidbit, but you know me. Anything for the Masters.”
“Didn’t ask if it was possible,” I retorted, backing away from the door. “Asked what it meant if the impossible was already happening.”
“What? No,” Ethan said, sounding truly concerned. “I don’t know how… Walker, the systems were booted before you shut them down?”
“Definitely,” Walker said. I could hear keys clacking frantically in the background as he no doubt pored over information on the many screens he had set up all over the office we’d created on the second floor of what used to be the Carmichaels’ penthouse. “External system was shut down by me, and the internal system was… Oh.”
“Oh?” I demanded. “What, oh?”
“Well, Jesus, it looks like the internal security wasn’t reset the last time the external security was engaged.”
“In English, geek. My ass is in the wind here!” I fumed, pressing my back into an alcove in the hall.
“Means that someone shut off the security after the building manager closed up. Probably somebody forgot something and had to come back. When they left, they only set the external security, none of the motion sensors inside.”
His voice was apologetic, and honestly, it was something even I wouldn’t have thought to check for, but it was still my ass on the line. “Probably? What’s probably mean, Walker? Like I’ll probably get twenty to life?”
“I’m pulling up the camera feeds now,” he said, the clicking of his fingers on the keyboard sounding like buzzing wasps in my ear.
“Daly, it’s your call,” X said. “If you haven’t seen anyone, Walker’s probably right. System confirms that the external security was restarted an hour ago and wasn’t shut down again until Walker shut it down. Either someone’s been sitting there silently for an hour, or the person who reset the system did a shit job. You know we need those papers, you know the stakes, but it’s your call,” he repeated.
Shit shit shit. I smoothed my hand down the mask that covered my face. My call, but not really.
Last week, the program Walker had set up to cross reference the names of our dead loved ones against the parties involved in cases Eugenia’s dead husband, Judge Trevor Carmichael, had presided over had finally found a match. A year or so ago, Judge Carmichael had ruled on a racketeering case against mid-level real estate owner Stuart Fowler. It just so happened that Stuart Fowler handled the business dealings for Silver, a seedy bar in Vinegar Hill, and the last place my mom had worked before the overdose that killed her. We needed to find out more about who Fowler was working with, who he was working for, and who was behind the dummy corporation Fowler had set up as the owner of Silver, if we wanted to figure out how and why my mother had died.
But clearly we weren’t the only ones who’d cottoned on to this idea, since Fowler, who’d been offered a plea deal in exchange for a reduced sentence, had been killed in prison before he could decide to start naming names.
Chalk another body up to the bad guys.
“Fine. I’m going in,” I told Xavier, pushing the door open with my heart in my throat.
The scent of cologne I’d smelled in the reception area was even more powerful here, and I froze again, listening for any sound, but the room seemed to be holding its breath.
I threw the door wide, making sure no one was hiding behind it, before cautiously creeping forward. Nothing seemed out of place, and the humming of the HVAC was the only sound.
“Clear,” I breathed, stepping forward to finish my mission.
Any thief who claimed he wasn’t superstitious was a liar. Every thief had a tell—a lucky pair of socks, a nervous tic—and I was no different. I cracked the knuckles of my right hand, and then my left, clenching and unclenching my hands exactly twelve times as I walked over to the desk, my eyes fixed on the ugliest nude I’d ever seen. Jesus, her breasts looked like purple apples. I shook my head in disgust as I opened the painting, handily attached to the wall by a hinge, and put my hand in my pocket to extract the digital code device.
“Christ on a cracker,” I breathed, letting the device fall back into my pocket. I wouldn’t need it now. “Someone got here before us. Safe is empty.”
A chorus of curses echoed through my ear.
“What do we do now?” I demanded, taking a step back and pulling the mask up off my face. “This shit show can’t get much worse.”
My heel hit something on the floor with a dull thud, something I couldn’t see from the thin shafts of moonlight coming through the tinted windows. I crouched down to examine it more closely.
“Oh, my God,” I breathed. “I lied. It’s worse. Dead body. Mother fucker, there’s a dead body in here.” I stood up abruptly.
“Who is it?” Xavier demanded, ever practical.
“He’s not exactly introducing himself, X!” I said. I could hear the panic in my own voice, but dead bodies and I did not get along. “I’m outta here.”
“Check his wallet,” Caelan argued.
“No way! You come do it!”
“You said yourself, it can’t get worse. Just keep your head and check the wallet. We need to know who we’re dealing with here!” Caelan soothed.
And that’s how I found myself, against my better judgment, touching the corpse on the floor of Stuart Fowler’s office, and rolling him over to pick his pocket. Yes, this was really my life.
“Got the wallet,” I said, pocketing the thing and letting the body fall back down.
“You sure he’s dead?” Ethan wanted to know.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Before Caelan could get all reasonable or X could get all imperious, I held my breath, stripped my glove, and put my fingers to the guy’s throat. He was still warm, but there was no pulse. I leaned closer in case I could hear a breath.
“Achoo!”
I jumped three feet. My instincts had saved my life more times than I could count, and for just one second, I swear I thought the man on the floor, the body on the floor, had sneezed, but then I realized where the sound had come from.
“What the hell is that?” Xavier demanded.
“A sneeze,” I said, standing up and getting my wits about me once more. I crept along the floor towards a small coat closet next to the office door, and threw the door open wide.
“Guys?” I said, as I looked down at the small, wide-eyed redhead huddled there. “Things got worse again.”

 


 

 





Jane Henry

 Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.

 

 

Maisy Archer

 

Maisy is an unabashed book nerd who has been in love with romance since reading her first Julie Garwood novel at the tender age of 12. After a decade as a technical writer, she finally made the leap into writing fiction several years ago and has never looked back. Like her other great loves – coffee, caramel, beach vacations, yoga pants, and her amazing family – her love of words has only continued to grow… in a manner inversely proportional to her love of exercise, house cleaning, and large social gatherings. She loves to hear from fellow romance lovers, and is always on the hunt for her next great read.

 

 

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EXCERPT & REVIEW TOUR ~ Cross Creek Series by Kimberly Kincaid

 

From USA Today bestselling author Kimberly Kincaid comes CROSSING PROMISES, the third standalone title in the Cross Creek series, releasing March 5th!
A series filled with rugged, salt of the earth heroes who happen to be brothers, and strong family dynamics. Each standalone novel is filled with heart, humor, and heat.
Order your copies of the Cross Creek series today!

 

 

For Owen Cross, the only thing that matters more than family is farming. As the oldest Cross brother, the land is his legacy, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make Cross Creek a success—including hiring local widow Cate McAllister to manage the bookkeeping tasks that are growing in his office like weeds. Cate’s as pragmatic as she is pretty, and she rattles his hard-fought composure at every turn.

Cate had known a lot of things about her husband before he died three years ago in a car accident, but how much debt he’d gotten them into wasn’t one of them. She needs her job at Cross Creek, even if her boss is both gruff and gorgeous. But Owen’s a family man, through and through, and the last thing Cate is interested in is anything—or anyone—with strings attached.

As Owen and Cate join forces to right the farm, they discover there’s more to the other than the surfaces shows, and that passion can be found in unexpected places. Can Cate heal from the loss of one family to gain the love of her life? Or will the past prove too much for the promise of the future?

 

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EXCERPT

 

Cate dragged a hand through her hair, her gaze moving over the boxes in disbelief. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You don’t do any of your bookkeeping online. At all?”

“We do. Just not a lot of it,” he amended. The Cross men lived to work the land, not the ledgers. Sure, their current system was a little time consuming, but it wasn’t totally ineffective. Cross Creek had been running on it for decades. “We have software right here on the computer.” He paused to pull up the program they used for much of their bookkeeping before adding, “It’s just that none of us are great at using it.”

“So I see,” Cate said after a quick perusal over his shoulder.

Irritation splashed through Owen’s chest. “Our books aren’t that bad.”

The parting of her lips said she was primed and ready to take him to the mat on that count, and damn it, he really didn’t have time to argue with her. “Look, I know it’s going to take some work to get things running smoothly in here.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than that,” she murmured with a shake of her head, and just like that, Owen’s patience redlined.

“Can you do it, or should I find someone else?”

Once again, his words came out gruffer than planned. But before he could even think of cooking up an apology, Cate’s arms had snapped across the front of her sweater dress to form a don’t-mess-with-me knot that was far, far more of a turn-on than it had a right to be.

“That’s what you hired me for, isn’t it? To manage your books effectively?”

“Yes,” Owen answered carefully, still caught between the desire to be annoyed, the desire to apologize, and, well, just plain desire.

“Well, then. Since I have my work cut out for me with a chainsaw, I suppose I should get to it,” Cate said.

After a quick internal debate, Owen nodded. Brash or not, he needed her. More than he cared to admit. “Okay, then.”

She answered by way of pushing up her sleeves and sliding an elastic from her wrist to secure her hair in a knot at the crown of her head. Even with the more casual edge, the powder-blue dress still hugged her curves, her calves flexing and releasing as she moved from one stack of boxes to the next in her heels, and he cleared his throat.

“Just so you know, we’re pretty casual around here. You don’t have to look nice.”

Cate’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink that, while highly pretty, didn’t bode well for him in the mending-fences department. “Good to know,” she said, and holy hell, why did his mouth refuse to cooperate with his brain around this woman?

“Not that you don’t look, uh. Fine like that. All I meant was, you don’t have to get dressed up. Jeans are okay.”

She stared down at the toes of her shiny black shoes, but only for a split second before meeting his stare with her own. “Got it, Casanova. Is that all?”

For just a heartbeat, Owen was tempted to say no, to dig deep into his Neanderthal brain for the right words to tell her she actually looked fucking beautiful. To surrender to the hot demands coming from both his chest and his cock, and cross the room to impulsively kiss her sexy, sassy mouth.

But this was Cate McAllister. His buddy Brian’s widow. He shouldn’t think she was pretty. He shouldn’t wonder if the skin on her shoulders bore the same provocative dusting of freckles as the neck she’d just put on display. And he damn sure shouldn’t be turned on like floodlights at the fire in her eyes that he’d never quite seen before, but seemed to somehow fit her perfectly.

So, he simply said, “Yes. That’s all,” and walked out of the room.


TRAILER


 

And don’t miss the first two standalone titles in the Cross Creek series,
CROSSING HEARTS and CROSSING THE LINE!

 

Hunter Cross has no regrets. Having left his football prospects behind the day he graduated high school, he’s happy to carry out his legacy on his family’s farm in the foothills of the Shenandoah. But when a shoulder injury puts him face-to-face with the high school sweetheart who abandoned town—and him—twelve years ago, Hunter’s simple life gets a lot more complicated.

Emerson Montgomery has secrets. Refusing to divulge why she left her job as a hotshot physical therapist for a pro football team, she struggles to readjust to life in the hometown she left behind. The more time she spends with Hunter, the more Emerson finds herself wanting to trust him with the diagnosis of MS that has turned her world upside down.

But revealing secrets comes with a price. Can Hunter and Emerson rekindle their past love? Or will the realities of the present—and the trust that goes with them—burn that bridge for good?

 

AMAZON

 

Cocky farmer Eli Cross plays twice as hard as he works. When his latest stunt drums up a heap of negative PR for the family farm, he grudgingly agrees to play host to an ambitious New York City photographer. Her feature on Cross Creek could be just the ticket to show the country what the Cross brothers do best…which is more problem than solution for Eli.

Scarlett Edwards-Stewart has photographed everything from end zones to war zones. She’s confident she can ace this one little story to help her best friend’s failing magazine. At least, she would be if her super-sexy host wasn’t so tight lipped. But the more Scarlett works with Eli, the more she discovers that he’s not who he seems. Can his secret bring them closer together? Or will it be the very thing that tears them apart?

 

AMAZON



GIVEAWAY


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Cross Creek Series Tour

February 26

Read-Love-Blog-Review
What is That Book About-Excerpt

February 27

Reading in Pajamas-Review
All Things Dark and Dirty-Excerpt

February 28

Always a Happy Ever After-Review
Thoughts of a Blonde-Excerpt

March 1

Irishdaisylovesromance-Review
The Fairest of All Book Reviews-Excerpt

March 2

Just the Write Stuff-Excerpt
I Love Romance-Review

March 3

Tangents and Tissues-Excerpt
What Do We Want Book Reviews & More-Review
1 Chick and her Kindle-Review

March 4

KDRBCK-Review
Books According to Abby-Excerpt
Bad Boys and Bedtime Stories Book Blog-Review

March 5

Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews-Review
Jax’s Book Magic-Excerpt

March 6

Nicole’s Book Musings-Excerpt
Oh My Growing TBR-Excerpt

March 7

The Heathers’ Blog-Review
Becky on Books-Review

March 8

Melena’s Reviews-Review
Read Your Writes Book Reviews-Excerpt

March 9

One-Click Chocolate Chick-Review
Kari’s Book Reviews & Revelations-Review

March 10

KatyaRath-Review
Reese’s Reviews-Excerpt

March 11

Two Book Pushers-Excerpt

March 12

Only One More Page-Review
My Book Filled Life-Review

March 13

Fire and Ice Book Reviews-Review
The Power of 3 Readers-Review

March 14

Shannon’s Book Blog-Review
Book Loving Pixies-Review
The Romance Reviews-Review
Blushing Babes Are Up All Night-Review

March 15

Star-Crossed Book Blog-Review
Sascha Darlington-Review
Bookgasms Book Blog-Review
Hannah’s Words-Review

March 16

G & T’s Indie Café-Excerpt
TBR Book Blog-Review
Teatime and Books-Excerpt


About Kimberly Kincaid:

Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet. When she’s not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber”, she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a USA Today best-selling author and a 2015 RWA RITA® finalist who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters.

 

 

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BLOG TOUR ~ Hungry by Kenya Wright

  Title: Hungry
By: Kenya Wright

Publication Date: December 15, 2017
Genre: Inspirational Poetry

 

A provocative meditation on poverty, art, sex, and God. 

Hungry is a collection of poetry and prose about a struggling writer’s battle with poverty and motherhood, her exploration of lust in this digital dating age, and her quest to end soul starvation.

Dear Reader

This is my journey through words when the screams and fighting wasn’t enough

I wrote this when he broke my heart

I wrote this when I couldn’t pay my bills

I wrote this high as hell

I wrote this when we had no place to sleep and nothing to eat

I wrote this when I couldn’t say the words out loud

I wrote this for you to learn from my mistakes and make new ones

And so this journal these entries these moments and poems should be free because I can’t sell you my heart

That’s what you’re getting when you read this book

But this book is also about the grind

The struggle

There’s no skating in this book

There’s no quick win in this book

Just a sista ready to die for words

Ready to hurt

Ready to starve

Ready to cry

Ready to sacrifice it all

Ready to go broke

Go hungry


 

 

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http://kenyawrightbooks.com/

Kenya Wright wrote her first novel during her third year at UM Law school. She dropped out a month after the release and never looked back.

Words are power, and Kenya wants to be the greatest wizard that ever lived.

It’s an audacity to inspire and teach the healing of love through arousal.

It’s this crazy idea that love can not only help a reader escape, but the story can also teach the person about being human, while making them laugh, cry, and hot for more sex.

 

Social Media Links

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/KenyaWrightAuthor/

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5402447.Kenya_Wright

Twitter – @KenyaWrightBook

Website – http://kenyawrightbooks.com/

Instagram – @kenya_patra

Mailing List – http://eepurl.com/AcDbj


  

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Love Over Lattes (Desert Monsoon #1) by Diana A. Hicks

 

 

 

 
 
Title: Love Over Lattes
Series: Desert Monsoon #1
Author: Diana A. Hicks

Publisher: Wild Rose Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 7, 2018
 
Blurb

Single mom Valentina wants to provide a good life for her son, starting with the perfect home. When the deal on her dream house falls through, rather than move back in with her parents and disappoint them and her son once again, she accepts the help of the intimidating-as-hell stranger she’s admired from her coffee shop seat for the last six months. She’s afraid to fall for the wrong guy again, so she makes Cole promise to keep their relationship strictly professional.
 
Following his failed marriage, Cole can’t find a reason to care about anything or anyone. Saving his company from his ex-wife is the only thing that has kept him afloat for the past six months. As loneliness sets in and he begins to lose the fight over his company, Valentina becomes his lifeline. Cole wants to be more than her landlord, and he has a plan to get her to release him from his promise.
 

 


 

 
Purchase Links

 

AMAZON: US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS
GOOGLE PLAY
 


Trailer


Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/22bda7nhwg4bew64pbzzbs6kq/playlist/7h1Yn3z07vxZhlaSOmc5zq


Excerpt

The VIP of the VIP room in yet another section in the ginormous warehouse was smaller and more intimate than the last two. At the far end of the room, a violinist played an old tango I knew well, “Mano a Mano.” The sensual and melancholic melody added to the decadent setting of the place. Probably the reason Cole didn’t want to bring me here.
His tent was cozy, all done in white leather furnishings and infused with a faint scent of vanilla. Under the shimmer of the small chandelier overhead, my dress looked scarlet red. I swallowed and smoothed out the fabric around my waist. This was the worst place to tell him about his ex’s plans. I plumped myself on the sofa, and a few pillows dropped to the floor.
“Oh, sorry.” I bent to pick them up.
“Leave it.” Cole caught my hand. He unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and sat.
Out of habit, or cowardice, I inched over to my left to make room. He gave me a bright smile that said nice try. “Make up your mind, Valentina. I can’t take this any longer.”
A hot puddle of unrealized desire, I melted a little every time he said my name. I squeezed my legs together and scooted some more. This sofa wasn’t big enough for the two of us. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you want to kiss me or not?” He slid across the cushion, closing the space between us. “Ask me.”
I adjusted my weight on the seat. He tightened his hold on my fingers. God, even if I had wanted to flee, I didn’t think my legs would respond. Cocking his head, he rubbed his thumb across the inside of my wrist where my pulse was visible.
“I want you.” The words left my lips of their own accord. I had meant to say something else, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what.
“Close enough, sweetheart.” Cupping the nape of my neck, he took my mouth with a longing that sent a wave of adrenaline from my core to my toes. Heat pulsed between my thighs as the tip of his tongue teased mine. I leaned in and sucked gently. I might not get another chance to taste him.
He eased me back on the sofa, and I landed on a bed of soft and silky decorative pillows. A groan escaped his lips, making my nerves dissolve. Did he want me as much as I wanted him? The knowledge that he might fueled the daring side of me. My hand trembled as I slipped it inside his jacket and kneaded the hard muscles under his shirt. I pulled on it, my fingers itching to touch his skin.
  

 

 
 
 


 
Author Bio
 
Diana became an avid reader when she found her first romance novel tucked away in a corner of her high school library. The more books she read, the more she wanted to be a
writer. Diana has a Master’s degree in information systems and accountancy and for many years worked for a major Fortune 100 telecommunications company as an IT project manager (As one does when pursuing a career as a romance author.)
These days, when she’s not writing, Diana enjoys running half marathons, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate.
She lives in Atlanta and loves spending time with her two children and husband.
 
Author Links
 

RELEASE BLITZ ~ Burn Me Anthology

 

Title: Burn Me Anthology

Authors: F.G. Adams, Janine Infante Bosco, 

Meagan Brandy, LK Collins, Tracie Douglas, 
Kim Jones, Kristen Hope Mazzola, S. Moose, 
Aimee Noalane, Kaylee Ryan, Mayra Statham, 
Shantel Tessier, & Winter Travers

Genre: Romance Anthology

Cover Design: Tracie Douglas, Dark Water Covers
Photo: Aunt Kris Photos
Model: Al Spinelli
Release Date: February 6, 2018
 
Blurb
 
Thirteen authors have joined forces to bring you their sizzling stories-some sweet, some five-alarm hot, but all for a good cause. Burn Me is an anthology to raise money for Hope For Heroes Foundation, which helps military, fire, police, and EMS personnel who’ve experienced life-altering disabilities while in the line of duty. Follow the antics and adventures of these incredible firefighters in what promises to be one of the hottest compilations yet! This delectable
anthology begs the question: Can anyone resist a hero in uniform?
 

 
 
Purchase Links
 
AMAZON: US / UK / CA / AU
 

Trailer
 

 

Contributing Authors

 

 

Giveaway

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Ghost Wolf by Hurri Cosmo

 
 

Title: Ghost Wolf

Author: Hurri Cosmo

 

Genre: M/M Shifter Romance
Release Date: January 18, 2018
Publisher: Painted Hearts Publishing 
 
 
 

 

Hi, my name is Trevor. I’m a wolf shifter.
 

I say that like I know what I’m talking about. I don’t. I was simply running off a ton of steam one day when I was around eleven and bam! Okay, not quite that easy or fast but it happened when I was young and stupid. I’m also gay. I say that like I know what I’m talking about with that too. I simply don’t. 

I’m grown up now and living in the big city which has me too busy to much care about either one of those things. I get out and run my wolf when I can, trying like hell to stay out of the local pack’s territories. Belonging to a “family” just sounds like too much work, and honestly I don’t have time for such things. Besides, I was told when I was young the color of my wolf was all wrong. Too silver…or something. Metallic. I kinda thought it looked cool in the full moon. “Pack Alpha would kill ya soon as look at ya.” My grandpa used to say. Course he wasn’t my real grandpa. Just an old man who lived down the street, but he was a shifter too and I thought he knew it all. He probably knew diddly either, but a guy can’t be too careful. And romance? Way off the radar. 
 
Only now someone has started killing wolves. Started leaving broken bodies lined up in a nice little row next to the high school in my home town and it’s got me to thinking. If a shifter is killed in his or her wolf state, do they stay that way? Were these dead wolves like me? The hell of it all is this: being a shifter isn’t common knowledge. It bothers me enough that now I want to find out more. See if there’s anything I can do. Kind of like a super hero.
 

Oh yeah. Probably forgot to tell you this too. I can turn invisible. Yep, Ghost Wolf to the rescue.


 
 
 
 


 

 


 
 

 
 

 

 

 
 

I live in Minnesota where I hold tight to the idea that here, where it’s cold a good part of the year, I won’t age as fast. Yep, I avoid the truth as much as I avoid mirrors. But one of the reasons I love writing is reality doesn’t always offer up a “happily ever after” and being able to take control of that is a powerful lure. Being a happy ending junkie, writing just makes them easier to find. Oh, I don’t mind “real life” and I do try to at least keep it in mind when I write my stories, but I truly love creating a wonderful couple, knowing they will fall in love and have their HEA. Every – single – time. And, of course, that is exactly the reason I love reading this genre, too. Give me a glass of red wine, some dark chocolate, and my computer, whether I am reading or writing, and I will entertain herself for hours. The fact I actually get paid to do it is Snickers bars on the frosting on the cake.

  
 
  

  

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