#CoverReveal…Indiscretions of a Porn God…#BookBoost #Contemporary #NA #Romance #Giveaway #MustRead @XpressoTours @SunnivaD

Indiscretions of a Porn God
Sunniva Dee
(Porn Star Boyfriends #3)
Publication date: January 16, 2018
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

I’m not a saint. That’s not why I left the mafia.
I left because I’m god, because I need no one, and fail at nothing.

I’m Isaias Di Nascimbeni, owner of Lucid, the biggest adult entertainment studio in L.A. Son of Il Lince and second generation Italian in the U.S, I’m dirty rich and adored by highlife as well as lowlife.

Whatever I focus on turns to gold.
On the Richter’s scale of eye candy, I’m a twenty.
I’m a hunter who tests limits.
A warrior who goes shady when the law becomes dreary.

While conducting business at the St. Tatiana,
the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen enters my radar.
Isn’t it interesting that her name is Tatiana?
Isn’t it bizarre that she’s a nun?
Isn’t it wild that she’s unimpressed by me?

Isn’t it fucking insane that I can’t get her out of my head?

She doesn’t acknowledge me when I return to her church.
It’s unprecedented. Unheard of. Not happening.
But the hunt is my fetish.
Novice or not, she’s only postponing the inevitable.
Beautiful Tatiana asked for this.
By the time I’m done, she’ll worship me, because now
it’s game on.

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The condo is a three-story narrow affair with small rooms on all floors. On the top floor, I look into each bedroom and find the last room—the master bed—closed. I don’t knock before entering.

She’s splayed out on the bed, and the view is even sexier than I could have imagined. Despite her nun hang-up, despite the flawless business suit she wore all day, Tatiana isn’t an orderly girl; it seems she stepped right out of every item she was wearing, leaving them in a crumpled heap by the window. I picture her now, doing that with the drapes wide open like this. I stride over and close them.

At the center of the room, a modern simplistic canopy bed holds court. It’s fit for royalty, with tall mattresses on top of each other and wide enough for a foursome to pass out comfortably after a good fucking. My ice queen is breathtaking on it.

Thick duvets and a dozen pillows matched in my mother’s favorite colors, mustard yellow and rusty brown. Long sheets of silky hair fan out around Tatiana’s porcelain features. It’s like she was airborne before she flopped to her back. She appears even more ethereal than usual, so perfectly in need of the ultimate desecration. I’m just the monster for the job.

I shake my head slowly to myself; she’s damn near unreal. The smooth curves of an arm are naked, daintily spread out to a side, and she’s fully asleep, lashes fluttering inside her dream world. Hell, if she’s wearing anything at all, it’s hidden by sheets.

The beautiful Tatiana of the Valley must have misunderstood me. I bite my lip as I sit down on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand for her and stroking two rough fingers down her throat. She thought I was giving up the master bed to her. Of course I wasn’t.

I’m no gentleman.

The perfect arc of a thin, mahogany eyebrow lowers in sleepy confusion at my touch. Oh, she’s in for a surprise. I think I like this.

I lean toward the nightstand and switch the light on. Sluggishly, her eyes glide open. She can’t quite focus at first, but when she does, those crystal-grey stunners widen with surprise.

I grin. “If you’re to hang out with me, you need to sleep with an eye open. I run with wolves.”

“Bandits,” she counters. “You run with bandits.”

I shrug, pulling a thick strand of silk between my fingers and pulling downward. “Main thing, you can’t afford to sleep soundly, and with the door wide open at that.”

“It’d been a long twenty-four hours.”

“No matter. You forgot your drapes too. Good thing you have bodyguards.”

She huff-chuckles, squirming deliciously beneath her duvet. “Those two goons downstairs?”

“Yep, and me.”

“You are the wolf. I don’t see you as much defending me as eating me.”

Oh hell yeah. “Now we’re talking. On that note…” I steady myself on my arms, biceps hardening as I lower toward her and find her throat. I give her two chaste pecks before I let my tongue out to taste her. She shivers.

“What are you doing?” That voice is soft and inviting, not at all hesitant. Interesting. Small hands slide cautiously around my back. I feel them flutter over my shoulder blades and down to my waist. Fuck yeah.

“Kissing you.” I run my nose up her throat, meeting her jaw. Then I turn her face enough to lick her lower lip. It’s freaking succulent is what it is, so I drag it in between my lips and suckle on it.

“Isaias…” For one indecisive moment, she pulls away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I take her jaw between my thumb and index finger and make her mouth connect with mine again. Her reaction is a quiet whimper that shoots straight to my cock. Tatiana’s lips slide apart, giving access to my tongue. She tastes how she smells, like warm sugar, woman, and addiction in its purest form. Fuck, I’d do this forever.

Her chest is heaving under me by the time I draw away. I lower my forehead, touching hers with mine. I stare at her, breathing heavily as I work to control my impulses. I want to peel her free of everything in my way, rip her open, and stuff her with myself. I need it now, in this second, and I want to roar doing it.

“I beg to differ,” I manage to say instead, picking up the thread she’s already forgotten. “This is my room. But with you in it, it’s ours.”

I do it now, with less violence than my testosterone reserves dictate: I pluck the duvet off her, crumpling it at her side. She gasps but doesn’t object when I wiggle the sheet off her too, revealing so much smooth, silky, delicate flesh, I feel my throat roll in a swallow.

I sit frozen for a second, taking in the vision she is. All she’s wearing is a lingerie set that makes my mouth water. With her flawless, creamy skin, the light pink color of that transparent ensemble has me groaning. The entire bra is made of floral lace. The pattern heightens the allure of the puffy, rose-colored nipples I’m seeing for the first time.

“You’re exactly like I knew you would be,” I whisper, letting my first, full feel of her start at the top of her chest. I slide my hand downward, the sensation of her sigh shivering under me as I fill my palm with a breast.

My eyes stray down the soft outline of her ribs to the slight valley of her stomach. My ice queen’s navel becomes an upright oval as she arches her body for more of my touch.

“But this,” I murmur, sliding over the miniature ribbon decorating the top of her underwear. I run my pinkie down barely-there flowers covering the small dark triangle that tempts me below. “It’s my first time seeing nun panties, and I could never have imagined the perfection they could be.”

 

Author Bio:

Sunniva is a reader, a lover of everything beautifully written no matter the genre.

As an author, she pens flawed characters and seeks the flip side where the soul hides. Once there, Sunniva wants to be pulled out of her comfort zone by stories taking on a life of their own.

She has written paranormal and young adult. She’s done contemporary romance verging on erotica and dabbled in supernatural mystery. But Sunniva’s heart is rooted in new adult of the true kind: young adult all grown up, with conflicts and passions that are familiar to college-aged readers and us who remember those days like they happened last night.

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#CoverReveal…Abroad Book Two…#BookBoost #NA #Romance @XpressoTours @somemetaphor

Abroad Book Two
Liz Jacobs
Publication date: January 2, 2018
Genres: New Adult, Romance

The heartwarming and romantic conclusion to the duology celebrated by Teen Vogue as “a nuanced and sexy take on growing up and learning to accept who you are.”

Nick Melnikov has finally done it — he’s come out.

To himself. To his sister. And to Dex, who listens, hears him, and understands. To Dex, who kisses him and shows him all that they could be, if Nick could only find the courage. It’s one thing to let yourself be open thousands of miles away from your family, but exchange student Nick is uncomfortably aware that his time with Dex is running out. Who will he be when he goes home again?

Dex Cartwell is as happy with Nick as he’s ever been, but he can’t ignore the shadow of Nick’s inevitable departure from London, back to his life in Michigan. Is it worth it for Dex to expose his heart to another doomed relationship with a predetermined expiration date? What does Dex really want for the beginning of the next chapter in his life, post-graduation?

Dex wants to turn to his best friend in the struggle to find a way forward, but Izzy Jones has her own problems. She’s got one friend in love with her, and when she turns to another for help things get twice as complicated. Izzy never wanted complicated, but life just keeps getting in the way — and sweeping her off her feet.

Then Nick’s mom and sister come for a visit, and he is forced to decide between living his truth and protecting himself from fear and change. It’s going to take a lot of courage and a few leaps in the dark if Nick, Dex, and Izzy are to find a way to live and love on their own terms.

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Author Bio:

Liz Jacobs came over with her family from Russia at the age of 11, as a Jewish refugee. All in all, her life has gotten steadily better since that moment. They settled in an ultra-liberal haven in the middle of New York State, which sort of helped her with the whole “grappling with her sexuality” business.

She has spent a lot of her time flitting from passion project to passion project, but writing remains her constant. She has flown planes, drawn, made jewelry, had an improbable internet encounter before it was cool, and successfully wooed the love of her life in a military-style campaign. She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize for her essay on her family’s experience with immigration.

She currently lives with her wife in Massachusetts, splitting her time between her day job, writing, and watching a veritable boatload of British murder mysteries.

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#Bookblitz…Golden Chains…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #Giveaway @XpressoTours @Rose_B_Mashal

Golden Chains
Rose B. Mashal
(The Colorblind Trilogy, #3)
Publication date: November 11, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance

“Royalty is a dirty game.” That’s what he’d once told her, but she couldn’t imagine how dirty it could really get.

Blessed now more than ever, Marie’s love for Mazen continues to grow, and with it, her worries and doubts, as well.

Just as they think that all of the past drama could be left behind, an enemy starts plotting revenge and ways to break them apart, forcing Marie into facing her worst fears.

With everything around her threatening her happiness, along with the well-being of the ones she loves the most, is there a limit to what Marie will do to protect them from certain danger? There might be none.

Because when it comes to love, pain can be bearable and chains become breakable.

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PROLOGUE:

The smell of death saturated the air, assaulting my nose and filling my lungs with its unwelcome stench. With it came the horrible feeling of sickness and the fear of the unknown.

The scenario of dead people surrounding me, and others struggling as they fought for their lives wasn’t new to me, I’d seen it before. The only difference this time was that I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. No, I was a horrified, fully grown woman.

For the past few days, I trusted that everything would be okay in the end. It was the only thing that kept me going. I refused to let go. I refused to allow anxiety to start stabbing at my heart or hold my brain in its disgusting claws.

But right now, I didn’t know how to be strong anymore. I didn’t know how to keep it together while feeling this agonizing pain in my body, or this unbearable ache in my chest. Being here was much more than I could tolerate.

Screaming my heart out seemed like a pretty good idea. Something in me believed that it would give me some sort of relief. But I couldn’t do that because I didn’t know if it would mean my rescue, or if it would only bring unwanted attention to me. The kind of attention that I didn’t want.

So, I held in my screams, but I couldn’t keep my tears from flowing. They simply escaped, just like the blood that was now seeping out of my body. I had no control over either of them.

I wasn’t mad at myself for crying, no. I was proud of the strength I’d shown since I was brought here. Mazen would be proud of me as well.

Mazen… My heart sank at the memory of the last time I’d seen him. My mind replayed the image of him, his head held high, and he stood tall, his features were colder than ice, and the look in his eyes was harder than stone.

I remembered the tears I’d shed as I watched him spitting orders and shouting commands. I remembered the struggle I felt to keep breathing as I heard him making threats and promising the unthinkable.

I also remembered calling to him, and him never answering me.

I remembered exactly when my heart broke. And I recalled promising myself that I’d never show weakness ever again.

But realizing what was happening now – I knew this was probably the end. There was no point in not showing weakness, no point in being strong; nor there was a point in keeping it together.

I screamed.

At the top of my lungs.

My scream declared all of what I was feeling during the past days – the hurt, the pain, the fear, the worry, the shame, and the broken heart.

All it earned me was a split second of relief. I knew very well that it could be heard beyond those doors. I knew it could be the cry of the prey, which made it easier for attackers to locate it.

It couldn’t be undone, and I didn’t have it in me to regret it. I was ready to meet my fate.

 

Author Bio:

Rose is a loved mother, wife, and a stay at home lawyer. Writing is her passion, and reading is her obsession. Music is her best friend and sarcasm is her speaking trend. One of her joys is bringing happiness to others and her biggest wish is that they stay true to one another. Through her stories, she wants to spread nothing except understanding, peace and love.

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#Bookblitz…This Piece of Our Being…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #Sports #Giveaway @XpressoTours @RobynMRyan

This Piece of Our Being
Robyn M. Ryan
(Clearing the Ice, #3)
Publication date: December 5, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Sports

She no longer believes that love conquers all.

He questions his convictions.

Alone, each faces an uncertain future.

Fate has other ideas.

Just as Fate placed their lives on a collision course five years ago, Andrew and Caryn Chadwick’s paths cross once again in Toronto after a four-month separation. Despite Andrew’s assurances that he wants to repair their marriage, Caryn is wary, not certain she can trust him, and struggles with doubts and questions about his relationship with a member of his Rehab Team. Wracked with guilt, Andrew questions his determination to return to the Tampa Suns hockey team, and he seeks to convince Caryn their marriage will survive.

Fate intervenes with a gift at the worst possible moment.

Caryn can hide this secret for only a short time, but is Andrew capable of pushing his needs aside when he discovers the truth? Can she risk her heart and soul once again? This Piece of Our Being follows Andrew’s and Caryn’s journeys through a fragile reconciliation. Both vow to place honesty at the center of their future. But, will the secrets revealed heal their marriage or drive them further apart?

The conclusion to the Clearing the Ice trilogy, This Piece of Our Being delivers Andrew and Caryn’s Happily Ever After, but the path to reconciliation is rocky and missteps prove costly.

**Please note: For your best enjoyment please be sure to read THIS OF MY HEART and THIS PIECE OF MY SOUL before this book. Check your favorite ebook site for special offers on the first two books in the series during THIS PIECE OF OUR BEING’s preorder period.**

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PRE-ORDER SPECIAL—Just .99 through December 5 release
SPECIAL—Buy the first book in the series, This Piece of My Heart, for just .99 (Save $2.00)

PRELUDE:

On her last day in Toronto, Caryn wandered around the university campus. She had always loved summer on campus and happy memories crowded her mind. She stopped for a strawberry cream frappuccino at the coffee shop where her study group had met two-to-three evenings a week every school year. She smiled as she looked at “their table” where some summer students sat, textbooks open, chatting and taking notes on their devices. The tradition continues.

Caryn walked to the large grassy area, her favorite section of the campus. The sun felt delicious on her face, and she looked for a spot to sit. She leaned her head back and allowed a smile to spread across her face. I’m having a baby! Just for this moment, this very second, I’m happy. No worries about the future. No what-ifs. No second-guessing. I’m having a baby, and I am ecstatic!

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top. In that moment, she could imagine celebrating the moment with Drew. She closed her eyes and imagined him laughing as he lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a circle, his blue eyes never leaving hers. A special romantic dinner poolside, stars shining above the lanai. Holding hands as they ate, planning the future, picking the bedroom they’d convert into the nursery, speculating whether the crib would hold their son or daughter. And choosing names! So many to consider. So many dreams. If only…

Caryn brushed both hands across her face when she felt the tears. Of course, that’s not my reality. Not now. And maybe never. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. You’re strong. No matter what happens, everything will work out. This beautiful child will know love from both parents…even if we live separately.

She sensed a presence beside her and began to scoot to her feet to stand and walk away, but then she suddenly knew. “Why are you here? How did you know?”
Drew’s voice was soft. “I didn’t. I just flew up with Tom. Dan told me to take some time to recharge. Spend some time with my parents. Tom dropped me at the townhouse just now. When I walked inside, I realized you were here.” She felt him drop to the grass beside her. “I had a hunch I might find you somewhere on campus.”

From the corner of her eye, she could tell he was about to reach for her hand.

“Don’t,” she begged softly. “Please.”

“Can we talk?”

“I can’t look at you right now.”
He was silent for a moment. “Okay, how about this.” He shifted until they were back-to-back. “Better?”

Caryn nodded without speaking and pulled her knees back up against her chest. She waited for Andrew to speak and heard him sigh.

“Are you going to Tampa when you leave here?” His voice was soft.

“Probably.”

“Do you think we could sit down and talk?”

“You mean, like last time?” Caryn’s temper flared. “I’m not doing that again, Andrew.”

“I don’t want that either.” Andrew was quiet for a long moment. “I’m hoping we can work things out. I understand if you don’t want to see or talk with me right now. But, can we figure this—us—out sometime when we’re in the same city?”

“Do you believe I had nothing to do with my father calling you?” Caryn challenged.

“None of that matters, Caryn. Whether or not I ever play hockey again—it means nothing if there’s no us. It’s taken me too long to figure that out. I want to ask—make that beg—for the chance to talk with you. I’ve called Lauren, spoken with Kelly and Terri. No one could—or would—tell me where you were.”

“Only Lauren knows.”

“I get that I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”

Caryn bit back a short laugh. “You didn’t answer my question, Andrew. Do you believe I told you the truth about my father? Or am I still guilty by default?”

“Could I answer that face-to-face? I want to look you in the eyes.” He paused a moment. “Is that possible?”

Caryn sighed as she relaxed a bit, leaning back against him. “I can’t do this here. Not in this place, this spot.”

“Then, could you come with me to the townhouse? We can talk there. Please, Cary?”

Caryn leaned her head back, resting it against his neck. She felt that if she looked at him, she’d break, shatter into a million pieces. And if that happened, she wasn’t sure she could put herself back together. “Andrew, do you honestly want to work things out?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Is it even possible?”

“Cary, we can find a way to work things out. Trust me.”

She shut her eyes against the hot tears that threatened and then pressed her face against her hands. “Somehow ‘trust me’ is not especially reassuring, Drew.”

“Walk with me? Just to the townhouse?”

Caryn nodded, but still did not look at him. Andrew held out his hand as he stood, and after a beat, Caryn stretched her hand toward his. He gently pulled her to her feet and then grasped her hand securely when she started to pull away. Caryn took a deep breath as she walked beside him, looking straight ahead as they navigated the campus.

Caryn concentrated on slow, steady, deep breaths, calming her nerves, trying to process Andrew’s sudden appearance after so many weeks. In Toronto, of all places, her refuge. She could not think beyond the next step, the next moment.

They entered the townhouse silently, and Caryn’s gaze immediately focused on Andrew’s luggage just inside the doorway.

“I’ll take that over to my parents,” Andrew said. “Like I said, I didn’t know you were here until I walked in.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have a flight this evening.” Caryn headed for the stairs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” As she passed the night table in the loft bedroom, she grabbed a bottle of water and her saltines before stepping into the bathroom. After she shut the door, she nibbled on a cracker and took a drink of water, then looked at herself in the mirror. Besides the reddened eyes that were slightly swollen, she appeared normal. Caryn splashed cold water on her face and took a deep breath.

She dropped the pack of saltines into her carry-on and zipped it shut. Everything was packed and ready to go. She’d planned to strip the bed, but decided to leave it alone. She took a moment to straighten the sheets and tuck the comforter under the pillows. Drew can change it if he decides to stay. If not, I’ll be back soon. She looked around a final time, then after taking a deep breath, picked up her carry-on and walked reluctantly down the stairs.

#

Andrew waited in the kitchen, staring out the window at the courtyard. Any other year, we’d be here right now, home for the summer. Wonder if that’s why Caryn’s here? Am I running her off by showing up today? Something else I fucked up? He heard her footsteps on the stairs and returned to the living room in time to see her set her carry-on bag near the door.

“You’re not leaving because of me, Cary?”

She shook her head. “I made the reservations last week. I completed my meetings and I’m good to go.” She turned to face him then, and Andrew saw the wariness in her amber eyes. Those eyes that enchanted him with their sparkle now looked dull. Depression? Exhaustion? A breath caught in his chest when he realized her eyes held no hope.

Caryn walked to the side chair and sat down, and Andrew perched on the edge of the sofa closest to her. He reached for her hand, his eyes asking permission, and Caryn nodded. He closed his hand around hers, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. She met his gaze expectantly.

“I love you, Cary. My feelings have never changed.”

“Why say that now? Suddenly, you believe I did not ask anyone to call my father?” Her eyes pierced his, not blinking.

He leaned toward her. “I think I’ve always known…deep inside…that you’d never make that call. I was too self-absorbed to admit it.”

Caryn waved her free hand between them. “So all this, between us, was…?”

“Entirely my fault—as Tom not so subtly pointed out to me.”

“What did Tom say?”

“‘Fool,’ ‘jerk,’ and ‘stupid’ were among the operative words. Plus ‘selfish,’ ‘inconsiderate,’ and ‘idiot.’ That’s about the gist of it, minus the rather blunt adjectives he used with each of those words.”

Caryn tried to suppress a giggle. “Wish I could have heard it.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to give you an instant replay.” Andrew smiled when he saw a hint of sparkle return to her eyes. “All that aside, I was wrong in more ways that I can count. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for the chance to make things right between us.”

Caryn’s eyes filled with sudden tears, and she pulled back as he reached to touch her cheek. She shook her head again when he started to speak and impatiently brushed aside the tears that had escaped. “Andrew, how do we…?”

He answered before she could finish the question. “Cary, all I know right now is that I love you and I want to be with you. If you’ll give me the chance, we will work everything out.”

#

Caryn shut her eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath to calm her emotions, determined not to think beyond the present moment as her brain struggled to process Andrew’s words. I want to believe that things can be different this time, that what he says is possible. But what if…What if we can’t work things out?

He didn’t believe her last April, and his betrayal, his lack of trust, still stung. Her stomach contracted suddenly and the nausea rose in her throat. She stood abruptly, shaking her head at the question on his lips.

She barely made it to the bathroom, the nausea getting the best of her as it had so often over the weeks. She leaned weakly against the door as she stood, closing her eyes until the dizziness passed. She splashed more cold water on her face and filled a cup with water to rinse her mouth. She opened the door, Andrew nearby, concern evident on his face.

“You all right?”

Caryn nodded, but didn’t speak as he led her to the kitchen table. Andrew pulled a chair back for her to sit, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed the Coke he hoped to find. He pulled a chair facing hers, opened the bottle, and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she took a sip. When she looked at him, the apprehension was obvious in his eyes.

“Have you been sick?”

“No, I’m just overwhelmed. About everything.” She set the bottle on the table, taking another deep breath. “There’s so much we need to discuss.”

“Stay for a few days longer, Caryn. I’ll stay at my parents…we’ll have time to be alone and talk, right here in Toronto—our true home. What better place to begin to work things out?”

#

Andrew waited for Caryn to respond. When she finally met his eyes, he read the longing, the confusion, the anxiety, and the indecision in the eyes he knew so well. The last thing he wanted to do was to add to the obvious stress she was feeling. He tentatively reached out to brush his fingers against her forehead. “Do you have to get back to Tampa?” He gave her an out.

“I’ve put so much work off on Lauren.” Caryn’s voice was hesitant.

“I can fly back to Tampa with you.”

She shook her head. “No, you can’t.” Her voice was firm. “You need to spend time with your parents…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. “I really do have work I need to complete for new clients.”

“Could you possibly handle the work from here?” Andrew was careful not to push.

Caryn looked at her hands. “I need time to process this. I wasn’t expecting to see you, hear you say you believe me.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“Drew, I believed in us. I never dreamed you’d give up on our love so easily. I trusted you.” She blinked back the hot tears that threatened. “I convinced myself that happiness is overrated.” She met his gaze evenly.

Andrew closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. “I have no right to ask you to trust me. I realize that.” He gently brushed aside the single tear that escaped her eyes.

“You said you needed to concentrate everything on your recovery. What changed?”

“I’ve realized it doesn’t have to be a choice between one or the other. There’s room for both. I needed to get my priorities straight.”

“I pray every day that you will recover one hundred percent. I want you back on the ice, playing with the Suns, just as strong as you were before.”

“Maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore.”

Caryn held up her hand. “Don’t! Do not say that. Do not tell me it doesn’t matter, that it’s been for nothing.” Her voice shook with anger. “If you don’t keep working for your recovery…” She shook her head. “That would be the worst thing of all.” She pushed back her chair to stand, but Andrew stood and grasped her arms before she could walk away.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Play hockey again.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make that happen, Caryn. There’s no guarantee.”

“I want what we had before you were hurt.” She reached to touch his lips to silence his protest. “I want us to be us again. And that includes your playing hockey, hopefully a long time with the Suns.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll ever play again.” She met his eyes and he continued quietly. “I still don’t pass that ImPACT baseline.” He shrugged. “I could think I’m ready to play, but if I don’t pass that test…”

“You will. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

Andrew’s smile was wry. “Now you sound like my brother.” He gently brushed the hair away from her forehead. “So, in the meantime…where do we go from here? What do you want me to do? What do you want to do?” Caryn hesitated, and he continued, “Look, I know I’ve got a lot of work to do before I can expect you to trust me. And I know I don’t deserve to ask…”

She silenced him by putting her hand against his cheek. “Andrew, I can’t do this again if things don’t work out.”

“What could stop us from working through this?”

“I might not be able to watch you play,” Caryn said quietly. “I still get flashbacks of that night. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to watch you play again.”

“Cary, that will never be a problem,” he said. He didn’t remember much from the accident that almost killed him, but she’d watched it all: his helmet flying off, the puck striking his head at full force, him lying motionless on the ice, the hours waiting to see if he’d survive surgery, the days spent wondering if he’d ever wake up. “I promise I will understand.”

Caryn was silent for several minutes, then reached for her Coke and took another sip. “I’ve never doubted you’ll play hockey again.”

Andrew laughed without humor. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve asked myself what I would do if I couldn’t play hockey again. I know I was wrong to push you aside.”

“Why didn’t you call me or tell me?” Caryn’s eyes held his steadily. “I believed what you’d said—that our marriage couldn’t continue until you totally recovered.”

“I convinced myself I didn’t want to risk hurting you any more than I had.” Andrew’s eyes left hers for a moment as he searched for the right words. “I knew I was wrong when I asked you to stay away…and then, I just watched you walk away.” Andrew shook his head. “I hope someday you can forgive me.”

“I already have.” Caryn reached to place her palm against his cheek. “There are a lot of things we need to talk about, but not today. You need to spend time with your parents. I need to get back to Tampa and take care of my clients. Think. Process everything you’ve said today.”

“I’ll be back in Tampa next week. Do you think we can start then?”

Andrew’s hand covered hers as she looked at him, searching his face. She saw the pain of regret mixed with a cautious optimism. She prayed she’d find the answer she sought in the intensity of his blue eyes—the same eyes that had captured her heart and had promised her a piece of his soul. A sensation rippled through her chest…a flutter of hope? Am I willing to open my heart? Risk believing in our future again? She smiled softly as she slipped her hand behind his neck and urged his lips towards her. In the kiss, tender at first and then quickly deepening, she found the answers.

There’s truly only one response, one leap of faith to chance. She pulled back and met his gaze before she stepped into the welcoming arms that closed securely around her. She nodded against his chest, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I’d like that, Drew…more than anything.”

Author Bio:

By the time she was an eight-year-old tomboy growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, Robyn M. Ryan definitely knew what she wanted to do when she grew up—play major league baseball or write. She wrote throughout elementary and high school, first composing novels featuring favorite TV and music personalities, and then venturing into sports writing.

Attending UGA’s journalism school launched her career in public relations, which included an internship with the Atlanta Flames NHL hockey team. This Piece of My Heart, a hockey romance, and the first book in Robyn’s hockey trilogy Clearing the Ice was published May 2016. The second book in the series, This Piece of My Soul, was published January, 2017, and the final book, This Piece of Our Soul concludes the trilogy with a December, 2017 release.

Besides writing, Robyn’s passions include following the New York Rangers, NASCAR, and the Atlanta Braves; splitting time between homes in Atlanta and Palm Coast, and visiting Paris as often as possible. Two brilliant Westies rule both homes.

As do many writers, Robyn chooses to write using a pseudonym—hers is a combination of her sons’ names, a contribution from her youngest nephew.

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#Book #Promo…Deliverance…#BookBoost #PNR #NA #Giveaway #OnTour @SDSXXTours @KrissyGirl122

Deliverance
By Kristy Centeno
Genre: Paranormal, New Adult

He’s been locked away his entire life.

He dreams of freedom.

The only way he can accomplish his goals is by breaking free of the chains tying him to a dark past and gloomy existence. But there’s one catch. He’s not human.

And he’s never set foot outside his jail.

Devoted to saving his peers as well as his own life, he sets out to find the one person that can help him achieve his objectives. He knows where she will be and what she will look like, but what he doesn’t anticipate is the fact he finds himself caring for the girl whose life he’s put at risk, more and more each day.

He has no name.

He has only known hatred and violence before her.

However, she will teach him to have faith in humanity, even if she can’t trust him.

Together they will embark on a journey to bring down a corrupt system responsible for the loss of many innocent lives. But when he finds his feelings compromised, can he still move on knowing that doing so will put an end to the life she once knew? How far is he willing to go to be free?

Kristy Centeno is the author of the Secrets of the Moon saga and Keeper Witches series.

She has always had a passion for books and after years of being an avid reader, she decided to transform her desire to write into a reality and thus, her first novel was born. When she’s not busy taking care of her five children or holding down the fort, she finds time to sit and do what she loves the most: writing.

 

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#Bookblitz…Butterfly…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #Giveaway #Mustread #OnTour @cambriahebert @cambriahebert

Butterfly
Cambria Hebert
Publication date: November 3, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Drunken brawls. One-night stands.

No-show interviews. Toilet-papering my hoity-toity neighbor’s house.

Insulting my fans. Trashing hotel rooms.

What’s it take to become public enemy number one?

I just told you.

I’ve done all that and more.

My poor conduct got me on the Celebs Behaving Badly list and ultimately ruined my career. From the world’s number-one popstar to world’s most hated.

That’s me. Ten Stark. Go underground, they said. Stay out of the spotlight. Most importantly, stay out of trouble.

Everyone loves a good comeback story. For once, I listened. I met someone who didn’t know my name, my face, or the bad behavior that defined me. She taught me I wasn’t who everyone thought I was—everyone including me. 

Then someone whispered my name and things got messy, as they always do. Now I want her back.  I’m not a caterpillar, but a butterfly. 

My wings are in full color, not just black and white. But first, I have to shed my cocoon and fly.

Goodreads / Amazon

Five countries. Thirteen cities. Four weeks.

A show in each city, interviews, press… people. Masses of people.

This was my life. A never-ending cycle of shows and appearances and, as of late, an ever-growing list of bad behavior.

I lifted the silver flask up to my lips, then screwed my face into a snarl when my lips and tongue stayed dry. “Why is this empty?” I said to everyone and anyone.

“Because you drank it all?” someone to my left offered.

I gave them a withering look. “You don’t get paid for sarcasm. Fill it.” Thrusting the flask toward the minion, I dismissed him and gazed out the window. My knee bounced rapidly. The nervous energy coiling in my system was never satiated. Not even when my veins had more alcohol in them than blood.

Seconds later, the flask appeared under my nose, and I swiped it up and tipped it back. The familiar burn of vodka slid down my throat. After two long draws, I pulled it back, tucking it into my chest to sigh.

“Where are we again?” I asked as the limo slid to a stop. Even through the heavily tinted windows, the flashbulbs from all the press and fans were blinding. I slid the Versace sunglasses down off my head, over my eyes.

“It’s nighttime,” the person sitting beside me intoned.

I glanced over, not bothering to remove the glasses. “Do you value your job?”

People were banging on the windows, trying to peer in. Their hot breath left clouds on the outside of the glass, and security shouted at everyone to get back.

My assistant shrank. “Well, yes.”

“Then shut up.” I turned away, back to the window and the chaos that reigned beyond it. I took another long swig of the top-shelf vodka.
“We’re in Amsterdam,” my manager said from across the limo.

Beside her, my bodyguard pressed a finger to the black piece in his ear. “All clear,” he told me.

As the door opened, I stuffed the flask into my tailored, leather designer jacket. It wasn’t available to the public yet, not for anyone who wasn’t me.

Screams and shrill cries cut through the night, drowning out all my own thoughts, making me feel numb.

The second my foot stretched out of the ride, the noise level went up about twenty notches. Unfolding from the backseat, I felt the familiar weight of the flask in my pocket.

The second the car door slammed behind me, I threw up my arms and grinned. “What’s up, Amsterdam?”

Everyone went crazy. Women were crying, even some dudes. A plethora of hands and arms reached out over the guardrails, straining to touch me, as everyone screamed my name.

I gave a couple high-fives as flashbulbs burst around me, making my eyes strain.

“C’mon,” my bodyguard said, ushering me toward the entrance.

As we went, I would pause for a couple photos and stop to sign a few posters featuring my face.

“Please, Ten!” Girls were begging, trying to get my attention.

Just before the entrance to the venue, I stopped and went to the rail again, posing to take a selfie with a few fans.

“Oh my God, I love you!” someone screamed.

“You and everybody else,” I muttered.

I moved toward the door, but a dark shape darted out in front of us. I blinked.

A man with a camera and a bag of white shit clutched in his hands jumped in front of us. “You suck!” he spat and lifted the bag, no doubt to bomb me with whatever that shit was.

“Whoa!” My bodyguards pushed me out of the way as the powder disbursed all over the ground instead of all over me, as was intended.

The asshole lunged to the side, managing to get out of the clutches of my guard. He sprang toward me. I didn’t think. I just reacted and threw out my fist, nailing him right in the face.

He went down, falling right in the center of the mess he created. His body writhed as he screamed and yelled. “My nose!” he wailed. “You broke my nose.”

Men ushered me away, stepping in front of the spectacle, and whisked me into the building.

“I’m going to sue you!” the man roared. “I’ll see you in court!”

That was the last thing I heard before the doors cut off the circus.

***

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

I turned around, the flask clutched in my hand, to face the door my manager was filling.

“That asshole had it coming.”

“Probably.” She amended, no give in her voice. “But it doesn’t matter. You know this is going to be yet another PR nightmare. One you can’t afford.”

I drained the contents of the flask and then dropped it on the table beside me. My assistant was nearby, and I motioned for him to fill it up again.

“You’ve had enough.”

“You’re my manager, not my mother.”

“Seems to me you could use some mothering,” she snapped. “You have a show to perform.”

I spread out my arms. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You can’t perform if you can’t stand up.”

A stage tech stuck their head in my dressing room. “We need you backstage.”

I moved across the room, swiping the flask out of the minion’s hand to take a lengthy, healthy swig before thrusting it back. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I belched.

“Let’s do this.”

On my way out the door, my manager, Becca, grabbed my wrist. “You know the deal.”

“I know. Say nothing. Even when the fans act like entitled little assholes.”

“Don’t mention what happened outside either.”

I laughed.

“You smell like a fucking brewery,” she said, disgusted.

Snatching my arm back, I strode out and went down the long hallway toward the stage. People parted as I walked, making room for me.

The wail of the crowd could be heard even back here. The act who warmed them up must have done their job. I couldn’t even remember who it was.

I didn’t care.

“Suit up!” someone yelled, and I was gestured toward the back. A few minutes later, I was strapped into some kind of harness with cables, and the crowd began to chant my name.

Anger rose up inside me. Anger at everything and everyone. Energy from the crowd, the music, everything in this entire building pressed in, fighting for room inside my body, pushing out who I was as a person, and dominating.

I was just a guest here. A guest in my own skin.

The air was thick with heat, even the A/C pouring through the large vents was no match for the way it suffocated everything around me. The crush of bodies, the lights, equipment—all created a barrier. The heat would only grow more intense as the show went on.

“You good?” one of the stagehands asked beside me.

I nodded.

“Just like rehearsals.” He reminded me.

I nodded again. I’d done this so much sometimes I dreamed about flying. Some nights it was a nightmare, falling into a dark, bottomless abyss. Just me falling, rapidly plummeting farther into nothing.

Other nights, it wasn’t so scary. It was a tease. I started out here, backstage, hooked up and ready to fly high. Only when my feet finally left the stage, everyone and everything fell away. I flew off, suddenly unbound by a harness and able to go anywhere I pleased. Away from here. Away from it all.

Free.

Music started up. Lights dimmed. People went wild. Adrenaline flooded my veins, and my stomach tilted a little. I blinked back the woozy feeling and shook my head slightly. When I opened my eyes, the world wasn’t tilted like my stomach and my feet were hovering over ground.

My voice filled the arena as it did every concert night. The fans couldn’t see me yet, but my words were everywhere.

“Perfection can be found between the rhythm and the beat.”

The familiar whooshing sound of fog machines pumping out mist filled the stage, and I stared down, watching it fill the space like fog on the set of a horror movie.

I kept going higher and higher above the thousands of people in attendance. Some had glow-sticks, waiving them around. Others had lighters. Some people just screamed.

The crush of bodies made me instantly tired. The anger I felt warred with the exhaustion. All these people claimed to love me… but I knew better.

Maybe some did, sure. But most? They were here to watch me fail. Hoping to see some bad behavior. Hoping I’d give them yet another reason to hate me.

I’d be front page news tomorrow, regardless of how well this concert went tonight. Regardless of how successful this entire tour had been.

I’d be the lead headline because I decked a “fan.” Never mind he was trying to fucking flour-bomb me, then attack me when that was thwarted.

Fuckers.

All of them.

Up here above it all, I got some sudden clarity. Like I was finally blissfully alone in a crowded arena.

The familiar beat of a song written just for me obliterated all other sounds. Below me, the crowd roared and bounced around, looking like a giant mosh pit.

A spotlight clicked on, illuminating me.

I went through the motions, the carefully choreographed movements.

“Who’s ready for the best night of your life?” I asked the crowd, and the harness swung me down closer.

Everyone seemed ready.

Everyone but me.

Maybe it was the vodka.

Maybe I was bat-shit crazy.

Maybe I just didn’t fucking care anymore.

Or…

Maybe it was the catalyst that saved my life.

Right there as I soared overhead all the adoring fans, something snapped inside me.

Since I was basically tied up, flying high, my options for getting away, for getting the hell out of there, were limited.

I did the first thing that popped into my mind.

Nimbly, my fingers reached for the zipper on my jeans. As the crew swung me toward the stage, I opened up. I released all the vodka that had been filling up my bladder and making me uncomfortable as hell.

I let it rain.

People started shrieking.

I heard my manager screaming in my earpiece. I ripped it out and threw it into the crowd.

“He’s pissing all over us!” someone shouted.

Complete chaos reigned.

I finished up and gave it a little shake. My feet hit the stage. The cords holding me snapped free. My band, everyone on stage with me, was gaping in shock.

I tucked myself back into my jeans, feeling much lighter than before. Everyone was still losing their minds. I held up my hands, and the place went silent.

Tomb silent.

I could have heard a freaking pin drop. Instead, I actually heard my own thoughts.

What the fuck are you doing? You just pissed on your fans. Literal piss.

Everyone waited for me to say something. Apologize. Claim I was sick.

Rotating my hands so my palms faced the crowd, I gave them the finger.

With both hands.

Now you know. The culmination of events.

How I became Public Enemy Number One.

Author Bio:

Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

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#Bookblitz…Murder Feels Bad…#BookBoost #Mystery #NA #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

Murder Feels Bad
Bill Alive
(Empath Detective, #2)
Publication date: October 24, 2017
Genres: Mystery, New Adult

He can feel people’s emotions. And murderers feel super bad.

Mark Falcon, an aspiring detective and (for now) reluctant web developer, has a secret. He can “vibe” other people’s emotions. And when a wedding gets crashed by a seeming suicide, Mark vibes that there’s one aloof groomsman who wasn’t surprised at the death. Problem is, this guy’s also the only current lead for Mark’s website business. And both Mark and I (his trusty sidekick/housemate) are dead broke.

Then, we get our first-ever real detective client … and she’s afraid the wedding killer wants to kill her next.

Exciting, right? Except her reason sounds … delusional. But Mark does vibe that she’s in real danger. Also, she’s super hot. And possibly into me…

Meanwhile, the cops tell us to back off the whole thing, or else. Even when more people in our small Virginia town start dying.

With the cops threatening jail (again), quirky locals turning lethal, and a spiritual crisis on my part which has really bad timing, Mark and I are racing to catch a killer who seems ready to murder anyone…

Including us.

Murder Feels Bad is the second novel in the Empath Detective mystery series, a new cozy mystery series that totally really happened, but is officially fiction. If you like Janet Evanovich, M. C. Beaton, Deb Baker, and long lists of famous author names, you’ll love this new series that has it all — amateur detectives you’ll love, zany small-town characters, sparkling wit, and a cold-blooded killer you’ll never even suspect.

Goodreads / Amazon

… But you do at least know about the empathy thing, right?

Okay. Super fast, so we don’t bore all the organized readers … my friend, housemate/landlord, and sidekickee Mark Falcon (I’m the sidekick) is the world’s one and only legit empath detective.

He can feel other people’s emotions. Even when he doesn’t want to.

Which is crazy awesome, but on top of that, Mark has chosen to use this superpower to fight crime, vibing the innermost secrets of real-deal murderers and bringing them to justice. So far we’ve been at it for a solid month.

And there were these two suspects, Dr. Jivanta Kistna and, um, this other guy I won’t name in case you didn’t read Book 1 (Murder Feels Awful) yet, and they did a bunch of crazy stuff I can’t tell you about here but the upshot was, they decided to get married.

Like, right away. I don’t know how they pulled that off, since Jivanta’s family turned out to be Catholic and I thought they had rules about that. I think Jivanta wanted to get the wedding in while the Blue Ridge Mountains were still at Peak Autumn Gorgeous.

In a good year, the view out here in rural Virginia is continuously breathtaking. You can’t even (for instance) be running late for a wedding without a lush distant backdrop of mountainous fall foliage, serene in every direction.

Unfortunately, if you are running late for that wedding, the fantastic scenery on a crisp sunny morning just seems wildly inappropriate, even sinister…

[Mark, Pete (the narrator), and Pete’s plus-one, his nurse friend Ceci, barely make it to the wedding on time…]

We grabbed a pew, just as the music fired up and the first awkward couple started the long march.

I didn’t know any of these people, but Ceci was craning to see the entire wedding party with endless enthusiasm. She’d probably know half of them by the end of the reception.

I caught her eye and grinned. She grinned back, sparkling and happy.

Then Jivanta made her entrance.

I hadn’t seen Jivanta since the “suspect party”, weeks ago. Even in civilian clothes, Jivanta’s eyes and smile can induce a mind-altering state. Now, maxed out in makeup and a bridal gown…

… I kind of blissed out.

Except the bliss was steeped with pain, because how could I ever really have a woman like that?

When my trance faded, Ceci was staring ahead, obviously hurt.

I gave an inward sigh. Even though we were totally here as friends, it couldn’t feel great to have your dude gawking at another woman … especially the bride. I realized I’d have to show some finesse here. Not only is Ceci one of my best friends, but I’d been racking up karmic debt to her like crazy, especially lately. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel bad.

I leaned toward her to whisper some smooth reassurance.

Oops. Wrong sight line.

Because in the next pew over, the hottest blonde I’d seen in months stood alone.

She didn’t just stand, she had that curvy lean thing going on, relaxing on one black-hosed leg, where a woman has so much pent-up curvaceous goodness in so many ways that she can’t even stand up straight, she has to slow burn in a sinuous stance of sensuality.

Even as I looked, she turned right toward me, locked my gaze in her own mascara-ringed infinities, and smiled. At me.

And I thought I’d been blissing over Jivanta.

Ceci groaned.

I startled, panicking that I’d been caught again. “What?” I whispered.

“Female emergency,” Ceci hissed.

“What is it?” I whispered. “You can tell me.”

“No I can’t,” she snapped. “Save my seat.”

She slipped out and clacked away down the aisle. She always wobbles a little on those unfamiliar high heels.

With Ceci gone, the pull of the blonde amped up like crazy. I was terrified to look back, terrified not to look back. At the front of the church, the wedding had already begun, but I was in another world entirely.

Beside me, Mark grunted. “Seriously, Pete? Now?”

Have I mentioned that Mark and I have this weird connection? And it’s getting worse. I wouldn’t mind so much if I could vibe his thoughts once in awhile.

“Dude,” I whispered. “Look at her.”

Mark flicked her a glance. “So?”

“So?” I said. “Can you see if she likes me?”

“WHAT?” he snapped. “Did you not hear anything last night from my Akina disaster?”

Oh right. The night before, we’d stayed up too late doing this whole interview thing that turned into a novella. Like, literally, it’s a novella now, you can read it. And it’s free, it’s a mailing-list-only thing — but don’t go get it now if you haven’t read it, I’ll put the link at the end.

All you need to know here is that in Mark’s distant past, trying to vibe whether women liked him had led to, um … problems.

“That was different!” I said.

“Sure it’s different,” he said. “You’re fricking here with Ceci.”

“As a friend! And I’m not going to ignore Ceci, I could just get the girl’s number—”

“No! Besides, I’ve got my shields maxed out.”

You remember shields, right? In theory, an empath can reduce the constant emotional onslaught by visualizing some kind of shield. A castle wall, a glowing force field, whatever. But it takes a lot of concentration, and it’s not super reliable, especially (apparently) at keeping out me.

“Why would you have your shields up?” I said. “It’s a wedding!”

“Are you kidding? Weddings are worse than funerals. Every woman’s comparing herself to the bride, every dude’s wishing he could have the bride—”

“Okay, okay, TMI!” I said. “But can’t you just do a quick check? It’ll only take a minute.”

“No.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just be wondering the whole time.”

Mark eyed me. “You’re going to regret this,” he muttered. “At least try to calm down, you’re causing major interference.”

He closed his eyes and looked focused.

I strained to be calm. I tried to focus anywhere but the woman … anywhere at all…

The priest at the front was super young. He was cracking awkward jokes about him being a new priest and this being his first wedding, and hoping he could say the same for Jivanta and the groom. That one didn’t land so well.

I was trying so hard not to look at Mark and guess what he was reading.

Then he gasped.

And not just any gasp. The kind that made the skin of my neck start to crawl.

I looked. He was darting gazes in every direction like a bloodhound.

“What is it?” I whispered. “Does she secretly hate me?”

“It’s not her,” he snapped. His eyes narrowed. “Something is very wrong.”

The priest made another awkward stab at humor, how he was pretty sure he was more nervous than the bride and groom. He’d woken up that morning praying nothing would go wrong—

CLANG.

Everyone in the entire church jolted. What the hell was that?

CLANG. CLANG.

The bell. The bell in the old tower was booming, blasting through the church like an air raid siren.

The priest’s smooth face creased with anxiety.

Mark shoved out of the pew and ran for the back. I stumbled after him, my heart thudding.

As we rushed into the lobby, a piercing wail shrieked beneath the bell.

It was a kid, howling.

And beneath that, a new yell of pain was stabbing us, a woman crying for help.

We followed the cries and burst through a side door into an old brick hallway that led to the tower. We nearly collided with the fat, familiar woman I’d seen before, who was still clutching the cute toddler. Both their faces were distorted with terror. The woman was fleeing, and the girl was squirming frantic against her, trying to escape even faster, mashing her mother’s shoulder with some old holy card. Even in that moment, I noted that the card had a delicate border of lace. It was getting crushed.

Then I saw behind them.

The frayed end of a thick rope lay on the old brick floor like the rattle of a snake. The rope wound back to what was left of a woman.

I could only look for a split second.

The body was crushed and obscene, like a broken deer on the side of the road, the red half-eaten carcass stretched across the asphalt. Except this was much worse.

Revulsion clenched me. I could already feel the doom of my future nightmares. I had to look somewhere, anywhere else. I looked up.

High in the tower, in the dizzy upper darkness, the broken rope dangled. The bell was still ringing from the force of the body’s release…

 

Author Bio:

You know how you keep reading piles and piles and piles of mystery series, and most of them are, like, moderately okay … at least, there weren’t too many typos … and your eyes aren’t actually bleeding …

… but then … THEN … every so often … WOW, you’re just smitten.

The style is fabulous, the people are hilarious, the action is fantastic and terrifying and gut-wrenching and you just want to shout, THIS! This right here! Why can’t they all be like THIS?

The next time you find a series like that, could you PLEASE TELL ME?

I mean, please tell this Bill Alive author guy?

Because otherwise, he’s just going to keep trying to write them.

Which is super fun. See that smile? He’s clearly enjoying himself.

But still. Once in awhile, the guy needs to see how it’s done. What’s your favorite series? He’ll probably love it too.

Website / Goodreads

 

GIVEAWAY!

Mark Falcon, the Empath Detective, may be able to sense people’s emotions, but the rest of us need a little help. If you win this giveaway, you’ll not only get paperback editions of all Mark’s detective adventures so far (including his prequel novella, ORIGIN STORY, which you can’t even BUY in print, because it’s only a gift ebook for my email list friends) … you’ll also get the technology to BE an empath yourself! I refer, of course, to … MOOD RINGS!

According to the happy Amazon reviews, this mood ring actually DOES CHANGE COLOR! (And does NOT turn your finger green! ) These are nice. Plus, you’ll get TWO rings … the possibilities are endless … you and your significant other could start to feel a whole new connection … or, alternatively, you could “gift” a ring to a particularly inscrutable colleague … or crush …

The rings will be available in size 7, 8, or 9 — just let me know which size you want for each of your two rings. Man, I wish I could enter this contest myself…

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#Bookblitz…Innocence for Sale…#BookBoost #AuthorUproar #NA #Romance #Suspense #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

InnocenceForSale.com/Jane
Ada Scott
(InnocenceForSale.com #3)
Publication date: October 13, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

If Looks Could Kill… He’d Have Killed Even More People…

Jane

Would I sell my innocence to save my grandfather’s life? In a heartbeat.

My dreams of immersing myself in the world of art will have to be put on hold while I do whatever it takes to raise the money he needs for the operation.

When I turned up at the hotel to give my winning bidder what he paid for, I never expected that it would be the one man who’s been dominating my fantasies lately. I never expected what would happen next either…

Caleb

It’s not about love. She’s auctioning her innocence, but I want her for her other talents.

Maybe I should never have dragged her into my world, the underbelly of Las Vegas. Without a doubt, I shouldn’t have fallen for this girl, but I defy any man to not melt under her smoldering beauty. I had to make her scream my name, over and over again.

Goodreads / Amazon

“Innocence for Sale…?” I mutter under my breath as I browse through the site. I narrow my eyes. Looking into it further, it turns out to be some high-dollar service to buy a girl’s virginity. Damn. You really can put a price on anything.

There seem to be a couple live auctions running at the moment, one of them for a girl named Jane that catches my eye even with a blurred photo. I click through to her bio page.

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, staring at the blurred picture. She looks happy enough. She’s not exactly an escort, either, so she might be even less conspicuous to bring along than the real thing.

To my surprise, I see in her little bio paragraph that she’s an art student, an artist in her own right and an art historian. A smile crosses my lips. Icing on the cake. My old plan begins to fade as something new takes its place. Having someone on my arm who knows art could be an even bigger and better opportunity for me, and I kick myself for not thinking of it sooner. If I don’t hear anything sketchy, maybe she can spot something. At least it covers another angle without drawing attention on me.

Then I see her price, and my eyes go wide. She’s…not cheap, that’s for damn sure.

Why does that make me more interested?

 

Author Bio:

Join me here for free downloads, discounts and news: http://adascott.com/free-bad-boy-romance-download/

A former office drone, a former nurse, I now spend every waking moment doing what I love, creating and publishing these steamy stories about bad boys from the mafia, motorcycle clubs, and mma that make me, and hopefully you, weak at the knees! Anywhere a bad boy can be found, I’ll be there taking notes and making it even sexier 🙂

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#Bookblitz…Stolas…#BookBoost #NA #PNR #Giveaway #OnTour @R_CooleyWilson @XpressoTours

Stolas
Randi Cooley Wilson
(Dark Soul, #1)
Publication date: May 22, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal

An ancient legend draws them together. His dark soul will tear them apart. Sometimes the only fairytales that exist are the dark ones.

For the past two years, Hope Annandale has fought to hold onto her sanity. Plagued by voices and visions, she struggles to understand what’s real, and what’s an illusion. As the lines between reality and hallucination blur, Hope discovers things that shouldn’t be real, suddenly exist. When Hope’s world falls apart, figuring out the secrets of her past becomes a matter of life and death. And the only one who can save her is the dangerously attractive demon prince, who is bound by an ancient legacy to betray her. The fate Stone has fought to escape is here. With destiny on one side, and desire on the other, Stone must protect Hope from the one thing he can’t hide from, his birthright.

What if the one person you were meant to be with could never be yours? Stolas, the first novel in the Dark Soul series is a riveting tale of passion, danger and forbidden love. Intended for mature readers 18+ due to language, violence, sexual situations and dark themes.

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Dark thoughts loom in the back of my mind as I hover over this mortal. As much as she intrigues me, my frustration with her for trussing me to this self-imposed protection detail is festering. I’m programmed to despise human and divine life, not bind myself to it.

“I’m the prince of darkness, sweetheart, not a bodyguard,” I whisper into the night, and brush the hair away from her face, wanting to feel her soft skin against my fingers.

I’d allowed my temper and frustration with the archangel to get the best of me, tethering myself to this oracle. A mortal with a divine soul. One my father wants to use for his own selfish revenge. The dull irony is that I’ve vowed to safeguard her from the one thing I will never be able to protect her from—my own birthright.

I move away from her, even though it’s the last thing I want to do, and take a seat in the chair facing her bed. I should have made her leave last night, but it doesn’t matter now. I couldn’t stay away from her any longer. Vassago wouldn’t allow it.

She is my mission. She has chosen her fate. And I’m bound to save her from the one thing I can’t protect her from—my dark soul.

 

Author Bio:

Randi Cooley Wilson is the bestselling author of The Revelation Series, The Royal Protector Academy Novels, The Dark Soul Trilogy, and “Covetousness” a Havenwood Falls Novella. She resides in Massachusetts with her husband and daughter.

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#Bookblitz…Beautiful Dead…#Fantasy #NA #PNR #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

The Beautiful Dead
Jun Prince
Publication date: September 22, 2017
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal

Yubin knows she’s different than the other girls in the pop group SIITY. Yes, they all got sucked into the same machine, giving up schooling and signing ridiculously long contracts before anyone knew if they’d be successful, but that’s how pop stars are made in Korea. Yubin is supposed to be thankful for that, but she isn’t. She doesn’t even like the girls she performs with.

She’s more connected to her former schoolmate Jieun, even though all they ever do is text. Over the last two months, Jieun has become her confidant and best friend, connecting Yubin to the real world in a way she desperately needs. Now that SIITY is going to appear on the reality show The Incredible Race: Asia, Yubin will need that connection more than ever, which is why she’s devastated to discover Jieun has been dead five years and is actually haunting her.

If that weren’t enough, Yubin’s not the only SIITY member with issues. Rena’s father is emotionally abusive. Somi has a learning disability, and after a near death experience, Tae-eun becomes a nine-tailed fox woman. The only way they’ll survive the show, each other, and the supernatural currents buffeting them is to work together and win the hearts of their fans. Because if they don’t, they have nothing to go back to even if they survive what’s trying to kill them.

Goodreads / Amazon

She was still unaccustomed to spirit combat, but a small tempest swirled in the underworld around her. Humans too felt the wind she created, their muscles tightened, and more than a few quickened their pace to evade the chill. Scraps of litter spiraled over real world concrete, and whips of black hair whirled in an angry nimbus around Jieun’s face.

The shadowman looked up. She’d expected empty pits of darkness where eyes should have been, but when the creature ceased feeding, a set of all too human brown eyes that now lacked eyelids appeared in the monster’s head. They contrasted with the rest of its body in that while the majority of the creature lurked in shadow that was darker than everything else in the Dead World, these two spheres burned as if absorbing all the spirit light that should have detailed the shadowman’s body. The flow of spirit energy that connected its ugly mouth to the girl stopped, and the ghost realized that she held the creature’s attention.

The shade of an eerily human face like black paint on even blacker canvas contorted in what could have just as easily been taken for triumph or rage. It unleashed an otherworldly snarl that was anything but human and charged Jieun. Though it had a man’s body, it rushed in an inhuman lope on all fours that seemed more like an animal. Jieun darted out of the way—it wasn’t a conscious thing, and the instinct may well have saved her dead life. If she hadn’t known before, alarm she felt made her certain; ghosts could die a second death.

She whirled after the attack expecting the shadowman behind her but it had vanished. She sighed in relief. Then, without warning she saw the black shape leap from the roof of a magazine stand just outside the subway station. She cried out in alarm, and before its feet had touched the ground its giant mouth fastened on her shoulder. The weight of the attack forced her to the ground, and in a moment of dawning horror she realized it was impossible to escape.

She shrieked. The pain was beyond anything she imagined possible for a spirit to experience. It wasn’t like trailing her fingers through the wall, or even passing completely through a physical object. Those pains were an affirmation of life, cold shocks that, while not comfortable, served as a reminder that she was still in some sense alive. The feeling of her spirit body being torn apart by the shadowman’s teeth seemed as if the devil had run away with God’s scalpel and used it to peel thick ribbons of her soul away from creation.

Though the shadowman looked like and had similar features to a man, it made low growls that were far distant from human speech. It wasn’t a language at all – if it had been she’d have instinctually understood it. It shook its head like a starved wolf and further tore into the fabric of firelines that composed her spirit body. Its breath smelled of rotten flesh, and she could hear the pulse of bestial rhythmic snorting in her ears. She needed a weapon. She didn’t have one. This was it. Jieun would die… this time for real.

Author Bio:

Jun has lived in Asia for the better part of the last decade. During his years in Korea, he made a point of learning about and getting as close to the Korean entertainment industry as possible while writing his first novel “The Beautiful Dead.” He enjoys telling stories about monstrous humans and humanized monsters.

He has a MFA from the University of California: Riverside, graduated with a BA in English Cum Laude from the University of Washington Seattle, and attended Yonsei University in Seoul, South Korea as an exchange student.

Visit Jun on Facebook at:  http://www.facebook.com/JunPrinceAuthor/

 

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#CoverReveal…Butterfly…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #OnTour #@cambriahebert @XpressoTours

Butterfly
Cambria Hebert
(Public Enemy)
Publication date: November 3, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Drunken brawls. One-night stands.

No-show interviews. Toilet-papering my hoity-toity neighbor’s house.

Insulting my fans. Trashing hotel rooms.

What’s it take to become public enemy number one?

I just told you.

I’ve done all that and more.

My poor conduct got me on the Celebs Behaving Badly list

and ultimately ruined my career.

From the world’s number-one popstar to world’s most hated.

That’s me. Ten Stark.

Go underground, they said. Stay out of the spotlight.

Most importantly, stay out of trouble.

Everyone loves a good comeback story.

For once, I listened.

I met someone who didn’t know my name,

my face, or the bad behavior that defined me.

She taught me I wasn’t who everyone thought I was—everyone including me.

Then someone whispered my name and things got messy, as they always do.

Now I want her back.

I’m not a caterpillar, but a butterfly.

My wings are in full color, not just black and white.

But first, I have to shed my cocoon and fly.

 

Author Bio:

Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

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#Bookblitz…Mafia Queen…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #Suspense #Giveaway #OnTour @CMStunich @XpressoTours

Lure
C.M. Stunich
(Mafia Queen, #1)
Publication date: September 21, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

Three gloriously wicked mafia bosses. They play with the dark strings of my heart, lure me into temptation. As the daughter of crime kingpin, Carlo Costello, I have responsibilities. First, ferret out the traitors. Next, bring four legendary New York City families together.

I feel like a pawn on the board, a piece lost in a dirty game of violence, sex, and corruption. But I’m done with being the pawn; I want to be queen. And I’ll have three kings to reign beside me.

That is, if the sex and the seduction doesn’t kill me first.
One of my lovers is a traitor. My heart doesn’t care.
But the families will.

Goodreads / Amazon

“Miss Costello,” a voice greeted before I’d even gotten the chance to settle onto the leather bench seat. “It’s a pleasure.”

Holy. Shit.

My skin rippled with sinful delight and I unknowingly wet my lower lip with my tongue.

The voice that was speaking from the shadows was warm, but dangerous, this easy tone that belied the true nature underneath. It was darkness made sound, like church bells in the night, a warning to lone travelers to stay away. To run.

I just wasn’t sure if I was supposed to run away … or run toward it.

“Mr. Moran,” I said, feeling my heartbeat pick up in a staccato rhythm that sloshed the blood between my ears and turned the volume up on my pulse to a point where I could barely hear my own thoughts.

I blinked several times, trying to adjust to the low light in the backseat.

Before I’d even gotten the chance to gather my thoughts, a hand was coming to rest on my right leg, the scorching path of a thumbprint chasing its away across the bare skin below the slit in my dress.

Shivers of heat rose up in my skin, obliterating the words in my mouth, freezing my hand in mid-movement as I tried to shove Marcell’s away.

“A pleasure,” he repeated, withdrawing his hand and leaving me an icy ruin.

“I …” I had no idea what to say, sitting there and blinking through the shadows at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I mean Bo was handsome, but … the man sitting next to me was pure unadulterated sin. He was lust given life, a demon risen from the depths of hell, as beautiful as he was dangerous.

The words died on my lips.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, his eyes as black as the darkness outside the SUV, his hair an indistinguishable shade from the shadows. His smile was liquid agony, melting my insides and calling up every single shred of my DNA that belonged to the Costello family.

Hot. Impulsive. Easy to anger and quick to lust.

It was literally in my blood.

And I’d been ignoring it for eight, almost nine, years.

That was going to come back to bite me in the ass, wasn’t it?

Author Bio:

C.M. Stunich is a self-admitted bibliophile with a love for exotic teas and a whole host of characters who live full time inside the strange, swirling vortex of her thoughts. Some folks might call this crazy, but Caitlin Morgan doesn’t mind – especially considering she has to write biographies in the third person. Oh, and half the host of characters in her head are searing hot bad boys with dirty mouths and skillful hands (among other things). If being crazy means hanging out with them everyday, C.M. has decided to have herself committed.

She hates tapioca pudding, loves to binge on cheesy horror movies, and is a slave to many cats. When she’s not vacuuming fur off of her couch, C.M. can be found with her nose buried in a book or her eyes glued to a computer screen. She’s the author of over thirty novels – romance, new adult, fantasy, and young adult included. Please, come and join her inside her crazy. There’s a heck of a lot to do there.

Oh, and Caitlin loves to chat (incessantly), so feel free to e-mail her, send her a Facebook message, or put up smoke signals. She’s already looking forward to it.

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#Bookblitz…#At Any Price…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #Giveaway #OnTour @BrennaAubrey @XpressoTours

At Any Price
Brenna Aubrey
(Gaming the System #1)
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Achievement Unlocked: Geek Virgin

When Mia Strong, proud geek-girl and popular gaming blogger, auctions off her virginity online, she knows she’ll make waves. But what she will not be making is a love connection. Her rules are set in stone: One night. No further contact.

It’s a desperate step, but it’s the only way she can go to medical school and pay her mother’s mounting hospital bills.

Difficulty Level: Millionaire CEO

Adam Drake, the enigmatic auction winner, is a software prodigy who made his first million at seventeen. Now, in his mid-twenties, he’s sexy, driven and–as CEO of his own gaming company–he’s used to making the rules. Before Mia knows what’s happening, he’s found the loophole in the rules of her auction. Every stipulation she’s made to protect her heart gets tossed by the wayside.

She can’t tell if he’s playing her…or if he’s playing for keeps.

This New Adult book is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content and adult situations.

Love the new look? Add it to your library!

At Any Price
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At Any Turn
Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

At Any Moment
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Worth Any Cost
Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

Girl Geek
Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

Played
Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

 

Author Bio:

Brenna Aubrey is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author of contemporary romance stories that center on geek culture.

She has always sought comfort in good books and the long, involved stories she weaves in her head. Brenna is a city girl with a nature-lover’s heart. She therefore finds herself out in green open spaces any chance she can get. She’s also a mom, teacher, geek girl, Francophile, unabashed video-game addict & eBook hoarder.

She currently resides on the west coast of the US with her husband, two children, and two adorable golden retriever pups.

Sign up for Brenna’s email list for release updates, and free content (deleted scenes, bonus stories, etc.) please copy & paste this link into your browser:
http://BrennaAubrey.net/newsletter-signup

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#Bookblitz…Caught Beast Mate…#BookBoost #Dystopian #NA #PNR #Romance #Giveaway #OnTour @MilanaJacks @XpressoTours

Caught Beast Mate
Milana Jacks
(Beast Mates #4)
Publication date: October 7, 2017
Genres: Dystopian, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Her protector, her nemesis. His once-in-a-lifetime second chance.

Kidnapped and taken from her home, Sienna is stuck in a beast community without the resources to find her way back. But she’s a survivor. Just like the wounded, bone-thin beast she finds in the desert.

Torrent was warned never to steal a human woman—especially if she’s his pair. He didn’t listen. Captured, beaten, starved by Men of Earth, he’s as near death as he can get without tipping into the void.

When her familiar scent brings him back to consciousness, recognition slams his gut. But there’s no answering light in her blue eyes. It’s just as well. If she remembered him, she’d know to run from the beast who once took her.

Although the spark of attraction burns bright between them, there’s danger in the heat. Because even if his crippled body had something to offer her, the forces arrayed against them are determined to snuff out their love before it catches flame.

Goodreads / Amazon

Book 0 – Virgin Beast Mate – is free on Amazon!

“Ah. But werewolves don’t exist.”

“Neither did aliens until you came here.”

“True.”

“It’s the teeth,” she said. “And your jaw. It’s large and hard, and when you open your mouth, all your teeth show. I don’t want to feed you, you know, put my hand inside the jaws.”

“Well, I’m not gonna bite your hand.”

“I don’t know that. The one I remember bit my dad.”

Here goes. “You want to tell me about it?”

“Sure. A beast went after me and Dad. Dad fought him. Before the beast snatched me, Daddy got him in the chest.” She pointed at my scar.

I lifted her hand with mine, picked up the fork, and put it in my mouth. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

Sienna fed me another few bites. I put my hand over her knee. She paused but didn’t reject my touch.

“We rode to Beast City. He was losing a lot of blood, couldn’t ride his bike. So he parked in the middle of the desert. Then he fell off the bike. I called his people on their emergency channel and told them our location.”

That did not happen. She made it up. “How did you know to call them?”

“Oh, you know, I pressed buttons on his bike until a beast answered my Mayday call.”

“And then what happened?” I squeezed her knee when she put more food in my mouth. I dreaded finishing my meal and searched the tray for dessert or something else she could feed me.

“I told them where we were so they knew to come get their guy.”

“He snatched you and killed your Dad, but you found it in your heart to save his life.”

“I’m not a monster. I couldn’t leave him there.”

She’d robbed me and left me to die. “How did you know where you landed?”

“A compass on the bike’s dashboard.”

“True.”

“The beast died shortly after. Before the help arrived.”

“Penance,” I said. “For taking you.”

“I’m surprised you agree.”

Sienna put the tray away, then stood there for a second. “You’re not as bad as him,” she said.

“Not at all.” I am worse.

“In a few hours, I’ll return with lunch and breakfast. Three meals a day.” It was already after eight at night. I chuckled.

She winked at me and opened the door.

“Thank you,” Zarik said from the hallway. He and the guard walked inside carrying water buckets. They dropped the buckets and pulled the tub to the middle of the room, then poured the water inside the tub. The guard left immediately while Zarik stayed. “For his bath,” he told Sienna.

“He needs one. Can you help him inside? Then we can be off.”

Wait, what? We? There was no “we” with Zarik and Sienna, and there never would be. And I was certain I’d have to kill this male when he brushed his knuckles over her shoulder. The only thing that saved his hand was Sienna. She recoiled from his touch. Damn straight! I sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Thank you, Zarik. That will be all.”

He snorted.

“Got something to say?” I cracked my neck.

His gaze drifted to my stump. I was the weaker of the two of us, but I outranked him and Sienna was mine. Mine! I growled a warning.

“Okay, then,” Sienna said and pushed Zarik out the door. She slammed it shut, folded her arms on her chest, and glared at me.

“What?” I barked.

“What’s your problem?”

“Oh, I can’t even count them all.”

“Try.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You care for me and me only.”

“I care for whomever Hasel asks me to care for, and when you leave, this beast will stay. Such is my shit life until I can leave too.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Remember my dad?”

“Mm-hm.”

“He’s alive, and he’s gonna find me. When he finds me, I’m going home.” She flung open the door. “Bye!”

“Wait,” I said. “Do you remember his name?”

“Whose?”

“The beast from the lake?” Shit! Too late. She’d never mentioned a lake.

“Priest. They call him Priest.”

 

Author Bio:

Milana grew up with tales of water fairies that seduced men, vampires that seduced women, and Babaroga who’d come to take her away if she didn’t eat her bean soup. She writes devious dystopian adult romance often about extraterrestrials and fantasy creatures roaming the Earth where she resides with her mate and their three little monsters.

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#Bookblitz…Murder Feels Awful…#BookBoost #Mystery #NA #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

Murder Feels Awful
Bill Alive
(Empath Detective, #1)
Publication date: October 10, 2017
Genres: Mystery, New Adult

He can feel people’s emotions. And murderers feel awful.

Mark Falcon can “vibe” other people’s emotions … and they’re usually super painful. So he hides out in rural Virginia, making websites for clients he never has to meet. It’s a not-terrible life, sort of … until he vibes the final panic of a woman’s murder.

The last thing hermit Mark wants to do is go out and investigate, vibing which suspect is seething with secret hate. Even with me along, his trusty new sidekick/housemate. (I’m so cheerful that I double as an emotional air freshener.)

But Mark has no choice. He has to act, because our local cop detective is convinced that there’s no killer and the woman killed herself. Unfortunately, our cop’s also got the overall presence of a Viking goddess, and the last thing she wants is some delusional “psychic” website guy playing amateur sleuth. (Not to mention hitting on her.)

With the cops threatening jail, small-town secrets threatening Mark’s sanity, and a crazy-gorgeous doctor suspect threatening my heart, time’s running out for Mark and I to catch the killer…

Before the killer catches us.

Murder Feels Awful is the very first Empath Detective novel, a new cozy mystery series that totally really happened, but is officially fiction. If you like Janet Evanovich, M. C. Beaton, Deb Baker, and long lists of famous author names, you’ll love this new series that has it all — amateur detectives you’ll love, zany small-town characters, sparkling wit, and a cold-blooded killer you’ll never even suspect.

Buy this hilarious cozy mystery today! Right now, even! Seriously, at this limited-time launch price of 99 cents, it’ll cost you more to lose time thinking about it than to click RIGHT NOW and jump in! Plus, there’s a whole extra mystery book waiting for you inside … for free…

Goodreads / Amazon

So I’m just going to start typing, because I can’t decide where to start. The dead woman flying the glider? Or when Mark first read my mind? Or maybe that crazy creeptastic first funeral?

This writing thing is hard.

But this story needs to be told. For the victims. For justice.

Plus, we both missed a lot of work time with this murder stuff. It’s not like our finances are dire, officially, but Mark said I could try this ebook thing if we used the money on the mortgage first.

Not that the mortgage is the worst of our problems.

Thing is, people really did die. Somehow, in made-up mysteries, that doesn’t seem to hit the characters much. Trust me, it’s a big deal.

In fact, spoiler alert, this all does get kind of dark. Like, not even just murder. Some things are worse than murder.

But … on the positive side … working with an empath is freaking amazing.

And you know what, that’s exactly where to start this. On that Saturday hike with Ceci, just before my mind exploded.

Not literally. That would be gross. Although that did kind of technically happen later … ugh … anyway…

It was one of those rare Virginia mornings in late August that are magically coolish instead of the usual broil. The point of our hike was to bask in the splendor of our gorgeous Shenandoah Valley, with the gentle, ancient hills rolling around beneath us in green late summer glory.

But Ceci had picked some new trail that turned out to have no views at all, just a scrabbly single-file path through skinny oaks and poison ivy. In the deepest shade, beside huge boulders, the air was cold and damp and tombish. Our voices echoed a little too loud, like kids squabbling in a graveyard.

“Not going to happen, Pete,” Ceci said, in her southern Virginia drawl that higher education and a nursing career have only partly tamed. She flicked me back a firm glance over her buff shoulder. “You are not moving in.”

This hurt.

My current lease was up in a couple days, and I needed new digs fast.

Dad was serious this time — “Son, it’s been a year since graduation, time to pay your own way, blah blah blah…” But how was I supposed to make the rent in the stupid four-room palace Mom had settled me in? And why was Ceci being like this? With our history…

“Don’t you want help with your mortgage?” I gasped. The gasp was only partly emotional — I had to sprint to keep up as Ceci jumped easily from rock to rock up yet another steep incline. My calves and thighs were starting to ache.

No, I’m not out of shape. In fact, I’m lean and wiry, sometimes misinterpreted as “skinny”. But these days, Ceci treats every minor excursion like some kind of Tough Mudder Triathlon.

By the way, “Ceci” sounds like ”sessy”, and it’s short for “Cecily”. Which has always struck me as super fancy and feminine for a woman who’s built like a linebacker (if the linebacker were five foot six and had a cute lopsided smile).

“Besides,” I pursued, “you’ve already got other housemates.”

She groaned, that special Ceci I-love-you-but-sometimes-I-wonder-how-you-even-know-how-to-talk groan. “My housemates are all women.”

“And?” I said, confused. It took me a second to process what she meant. “Wait, you mean, because I’m a dude? Really? Is this some Baptist thing?”

“I’m not Baptist!”

I flinched with remorse. I’m pretty good with details, but for some reason I can never remember the precise flavor of her denomination. Not Baptist, apparently.

“Sorry,” I said. “But we’re friends, Ceci. We have this magical complete lack of sexual attraction! We always have.”

Ceci stepped wrong on a pebble and lurched sideways. But she righted herself instantly. “It’s not that,” she said.

I don’t know why it wasn’t. She’s one of my best friends. We met our first week of college, back when she was a chubby freshman fifteener instead of this transmogrified Miss Muscle. Since then, we’ve been talking pretty much nonstop. We were probably brother and sister in another life. I’m serious. (I used to not believe in past lives, but in the last couple years I’ve really gotten a lot more spiritual.)

“I mean, sure, Hermosa is moderately hot,” I granted. “But I’m not going to try anything with a housemate!”

“Pete—”

“And she’s totally into that cop dude. Ramiro Romero. That guy has enough self-confidence to launch a major world religion.”

“Pete—”

Side note: Ceci knows a lot of cops and cop affiliates, because her older sister Gwen happens to be one of the Force’s finest. Sergeant Gwen Jensen, head of our local Investigations Division. (It’s a small town, so the division only has like three cops, but still.)

Gwen is also basically a Viking goddess, in both her Attractiveness Quotient and her overall temperament and approach to life. I’m not going to say she’s intimidating, because she might actually read this.

“Trust me,” I said. “Cop girlfriends are officially off limits.”

“PETE!” she exasperated. “You are not moving in!”

I opened my mouth to protest, but just then, there came a dude.

Trail etiquette is sketchy, but I always feel you should make at least fleeting eye contact as you try to avoid shoving each other into the poison ivy.

It’s like when you’re driving on back road gravel and there’s some three-ton pickup barreling your way. You both have to give this little half-wave of acknowledgment, even if you don’t actually lift your hand off the wheel and even though there is no way you actually know each other or will ever see each other again, ever. It’s just the code.

This guy did not make eye contact.

I tried three times.

On my first two quick glances, he was apparently way more interested in either watching his step or observing the fascinating local flora.

The third time, he was staring up, craning back his head to see the sky.

This seemed so obviously avoidant that I didn’t think to look up too. Besides, he was more interesting.

Even with his head back, his eyes burned a brilliant blue. They were luminous, the kind of eyes that shine so bright you might fall in. Almost unsettling.

He was also rocking a red-blond mustache, solo with no beard. That was unsettling. Because it actually kind of looked okay. I can’t explain it.

Maybe he was good-looking enough to burn some points on eccentric facial hair? He had a powerful, athletic kind of face. But who knows? I have no clue what kind of look girls actually go for.

I pegged him at mid-thirties, although it was hard to be sure because his reddish-blondish-grayish hair was thinning big time. A large expanse of scalp openly gleamed, and the hair he had left was all fringy and shaggy in the breeze, like the last few months had seen other priorities besides hair care. He wore a ratty T-shirt and thrift store jeans, but he did wear them well.

He tramped around us in awkward silence. Ceci and I put the courteous kibosh on our conversation to make space for obligatory pleasantries, but somehow even Ceci couldn’t muster a “good morning”. And this is a woman who can dump bedpans for sixteen hours straight while sporting the aforementioned cute smile. Somehow, this guy exuded silence like a force field.

Without a word, we went our separate ways.

Then, behind us, he gasped.

Hard. Like he’d been hit in the stomach by a freight train.

Ceci and I shared a glance of mutual what-the-hellitude, then whipped around to see.

The dude was slumped against an old oak, shuddering like he was freezing and fighting to breathe. He looked shocked, even horrified.

Ceci sprang into Nurse Mode, peppering him with medical questions as she leaped down toward him.

But he winced and rasped, “She’s dying.”

I went cold all over. I felt like I’d walked into a car crash. “Who’s dying?” I called, as I stumbled after Ceci.

Still wincing, he nodded … up. Toward the sky.

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#Trailer #Reveal…Dark Paradise…#BookBoost #NA #PNR #Romance #OnTour @R_CooleyWilson @XpressoTours

Dark Paradise
Randi Cooley Wilson
Publication date: November 15, 2018
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

When you lose the one person who gave your life meaning and purpose, how do you continue to exist without her? Your love. Your soul. Your only reason for breathing.

Dark, sexy, and dangerous Gage Gallagher exists in the shadows. A gargoyle cursed to live each moment of the rest of his existence with the death of his beloved mate, Camilla, eclipsing him. The wounds of his loss run deep and haunt him and to cope, he seeks answers. But this protector doesn’t play the rules. Gage could care less who he must hurt, or what he must do avenge his beloved. He’s reckless. A traitor amongst his kind. And he’s so far lost in the evil and darkness that rules his world, he doesn’t even see the bright light of innocence until she collides with him, heart first.

Nassa isn’t looking to be saved. The powerful sorceress of the Black Circles knows all about living with shadows that haunt your soul. She’s had a hard life and had to make tough choices, hardening her heart. And while her father is a demon king, she refuses to allow darkness to pull her down—until she meets Gage. Now, she drowns in it. Thrives in it. Craves it. And may even be falling in love with it.

When Nassa becomes captivated by Gage, she soon realizes the only thing they have in common is their undeniable mutual attraction. Yet, Gage clings to her because without his even realizing it, she’s become the reason he continues to breathe, and exist. When secrets are revealed and loyalties are tested, the two find themselves need each other in more ways than one. And Nassa soon finds out, Gage isn’t just hiding in the dark, he is the darkness. He’s her dark paradise.

Dark Paradise is the story of Gage Gallagher. It can be read as a stand-alone, or after the bestselling Revelation series and/or Royal Protector Academy novels. Intended for mature readers 18+ due to language, mild violence, and sexual situations.

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Randi Cooley Wilson is the bestselling author of The Revelation Series, The Royal Protector Academy Novels, The Dark Soul Trilogy, and “Covetousness” a Havenwood Falls Novella. She resides in Massachusetts with her husband and daughter.

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#Bookblitz…Perfect Ten…#BookBoost #Contemporary #NA #Romance #Giveaway #OnTour @kelleyrmartin @XpressoTours

Perfect Ten
Kelley R. Martin
Publication date: October 3, 2017
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

First comes marriage. Then comes love.

His band’s record went platinum ten times.
I’ve known him for nine hours.
Our wedding ceremony lasted eight minutes.
Last night I must’ve had seven shots.
When our nuptials are accidentally live-streamed, I wake up to six voicemails.
He gave me five toe-curling orgasms.
His tour lasts for another four weeks.
He says he can’t wait to turn us into a family of three.
He’s only in Vegas for two more days.
His name is Tennessee King, and I’m absolutely terrified he might be the one.

This is a standalone novella with an HEA and no cheating. If you’re looking for a quick read with scorching heat and lots of heart, dive right in!

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Author Bio:

Kelley lives in Texas, but she swears it’s not all country music and cowboy boots… Okay, some of it is, but not all of it. She’s got an amazing husband, who continues to inspire her every day, even after twelve years and two ridiculously cute little girls.

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#Bookblitz…Talk to Me…#BookBoost #NA #Romance #Sports #Giveaway #OnTour @ClareJamesBooks @XpressoTours

Talk to Me
Clare James
(Impossible Love, #4)
Publication date: June 7, 2014
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Sports

A damaged hockey player. A smart-mouthed TV reporter. Put them together, and it’s more than a conflict of interest…

Finn Daley took the world by storm two years ago when he was drafted by the NHL. The young, handsome, high-scoring player quickly became a fan favorite. He had everything going for him: fame, fortune, a promising career, and his pick of women. But when he made an abrupt exit from the NHL, everything changed and he’s been in hiding ever since. Casey Scott plans to find out why.

After interning all summer at the top television station in the Twin Cities, Casey lands an on-air gig. Trouble is, the new role is Sports Girl—which means reporting from local bars and tailgating parties to create excitement for the hometown heroes. All while wearing tiny team jerseys that are so tight they leave little to the imagination.

But she has a plan. Uncover the biggest sports mystery of the decade, and she’ll be on her way. Question is, how far will she go to get the story?

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FREE for a limited time only!

Talk to Me is a standalone hockey romance and part of Clare James’ Impossible Love world.
This free sale kicks off the 2017/2018 NHL opener and launches Clare’s new spin-off Hockey Series with several books releasing over the hockey season.

I am ashamed to say the bouncing worked. I got the job.

And though Jonathan wanted to go out and celebrate, I wasn’t sure this news warranted such extremes. The steady paycheck, however, gave me all the feels.

My first week on the job was a blur of hair and make-up appointments; jersey fittings; tours of all the pro and college stadiums in the Twin Cities; meetings with the other girls and crew; and study sessions about the Wild lineup. I was selected as the new ambassador of hockey.

“Pass me that chicken cutlet,” Mackenzie said, looking at me through the mirror as she fussed with her cleavage.

I was getting ready to do my promo spots for the season and Mack was about to head out for her Monday Night Football cut-in. While I was new to hockey, Mackenzie had covered Vikings football for the past two years.

“The what?” I asked, confused as to why she wanted to eat a piece of chicken when she was almost ready to go on air.

“That fake boob over there.” She nodded to the table behind me. “The piece of silicone that looks like a chicken cutlet with a nipple on it?”

“Oh.” I slapped a hand to my forehead. “Of course, the chicken cutlet.”

Mackenzie sighed, clearly annoyed with my sarcasm.

Yes, she might have looked like a bimbo, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Don’t judge,” she said. “I’m trying to up my ratings and not all of us are blessed with a spectacular rack like you, K.C.”

She paused between each letter, over annunciating my on-air name. All the Sports Girls went by their first name only. Some real; some fake. I had the feeling Mackenzie was really born a Jill or Jane. She loved to go for the more elaborate (shall we say, enhanced) version of herself. Her name also allowed for some fun banter with her viewers — mainly a bunch of horny college boys and middle-aged men who were fond of saying they were having a Mack Attack.

Our sports producer, Phil, loved her. She brought in the best ratings and her public appearances were standing room only. She made him look good, and that’s really all he cared about. Phil was a bit older than I, maybe late twenties, and on the fast track. The guy lived at the station and ate fast food round the clock. He had a paunchy belly and skin so pale it looked like he hadn’t seen daylight in years. The crew called him The Mole. And though his appearance was unpleasant at best, his personality was even worse.

When I told him I didn’t want to use a stage name, that I’d rather use my given name of Casey Scott so that I could put my stand-ups on my reel when I applied for actual reporting jobs, he dismissed me with a pat on the head. I shit you not.

“Well, for one,” he began, taking great pleasure in schooling me, “you’re not allowed to use your last name. There are creepers out there and we don’t need anyone stalking you. And two, we need something a little more memorable. Let’s at least spice up your first name. Use the initials K.C. instead of the spelled-out version. It’s more fun that way. And shit knows, we need all the fun we can get with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Look,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shook it off and took a step back.

He groaned. “See, this is what I’m talking about. Jonathan recommended you and I respect him. You had a great audition and your looks obviously fit the bill. You’re a hot girl. It’s just that you’re too serious. Our viewers like easy, breezy. This isn’t CNN for fuck’s sake. Can you just take it down a notch?”

I hated that little mole right from the start.

“Sure,” I said, all sweet. “I get it now. You want me to go out there, introduce the players and games, give a slice of life as a fan, shake my tits, and pretend I don’t have a brain in my head? Is that the gist?”

“Now you got it.” He laughed. “Work on your reel on your own time. And if you bring me a good story, I might even air it.”

He was such a dick, but he was right.

That’s exactly what I had to do — spend every spare second working on my reel. I’d come up with something so good, Phil wouldn’t be able to resist. The only issue was that he usually worked on longer pieces for the sweeps ratings periods (just four times a year in November, February, May, and July). With only a few weeks left in the month, I wouldn’t have time to get something in for November sweeps, but I could make the next period in February. Still, I’d have to work fast to come up with something that would get his rocks off.

In the meantime, I would have to stay on his good side.

Author Bio:

Clare James is the best-selling author of contemporary romance and new adult novels with spunky heroines and sexier-than- sin heroes. Her Entangled Brazen debut, CAUGHT, was a #1 Best-Selling Romance Series, and the touching family drama, Two-Hour Truce, also hit #1 as a category bestseller. And Clare’s Impossible Love Series has more than 500,000 downloads to date and counting!

A fan of smart, funny, and steamy romance, Clare spends most of her time lost in books. When she’s not reading, you can find her locked away writing. Clare is also a former dancer and still loves to get her groove on – mostly to work off her beloved cupcakes and red wine. She lives in Minneapolis with her two leading men – her husband and young son – and is always on social media chatting with readers.

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