Wednesday 29 June 2016

Trinity by M. Never


Title : Trinity
Author : M. Never
Genre : MMF Romance
Cover Design: Marisa-Rose Shor / Cover Me Darling
Photo: Cassy Roop / Pink Ink Designs
Model: Michael Hornat
http://bit.ly/1ZcNOZE




Two seductive strangers.
One scandalous night.
A trinity of temptation.

It was only supposed to be a single encounter.

A night stripped of sexual inhibitions. 
 
We were never supposed to become romantically involved.

But they were alluring and irresistible.

They were also the enemy.

Their company wants to take the one thing that means anything to me.

Now, I'm navigating a dicey path. Loving two men who can destroy me in a multitude of ways. They can shatter my heart, wreck my dreams, but worst of all, demolish the only place I've ever called home.








( Remove if not reviewing )

M. Never resides in New York City. When she's not researching ways to tie up her characters in compromising positions, you can usually find her at the gym kicking the crap out of a punching bag, or eating at some new trendy restaurant.

She has a dependence on sushi and a fetish for boots. Fall is her favorite season.

She is surrounded by family and friends she wouldn't trade for the world and is a little in love with her readers. The more the merrier. So make sure to say hi!


Tuesday 28 June 2016

Hawk ( Sex and Bullets 2 ) Author: Jo Raven



Title : Hawk ( Sex and Bullets 2 )
Author: Jo Raven
Genre : Romance
Photographer : Pato Battellini
Model : Caspar Peteus








Bad boy heir to the Fleming Group empire, Jamie ‘Hawk’ Fleming, at your service. Here’s the breakdown: my father has been thrown behind bars on murder charges, and my mother as accessory. That was three months ago, and since then everything has been a downhill ride.
The only thing keeping me sane right now is Hot Body. Her name is Layla, and all that matters is that she’s gorgeous, sexy, and great in bed.
Until one morning I wake up tied up and gagged, Layla standing over me. Sounds promising, huh? A pretty girl, handcuffs, maybe a whip?
Only the look on her face – and the pissed-off men at her side – tell me she’s not in a kinky mood, or at least, not the pleasant kind…
Standalone novel. No cliffhanger.
*Warning: this book contains graphic language, sex, and violence. Mature readers only. Not intended for young readers.*







“Why are you still here? You should leave. Now, before anyone finds you.”
She stills, then resumes gathering up a bowl and a spoon from the tray. “Not before we talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about. You should go.”
“No.” She shoves the tray away, bowl and cup and all, and gets right in my face. “Why are you doing this? Tell me the truth.”
“You heard everything.”
“Yeah, that you want in a shady organization, that you want your parents’ position. You crave more money, more power.” She waves a hand in the air. “I don’t believe you. Don’t believe any of this. You’re playing at something, something dangerous, and won’t tell me about it.”
“It’s for your own damn good,” I whisper, and fuck, did I say that out loud?
She leans in until we’re nose to nose, and fuck she smells good. “I’m not moving from here unless you tell me what’s going on.”
“No fucking way. You need to leave.” 
“No.” She pulls away, which sucks, and pours water on a napkin. She puts her hand on my face and starts washing it with the napkin, wiping away the filth and dried blood. “Not unless you tell me more about this Organization you want to join.”
Fuck. This is why I’ve never let her get close. I knew something like this might happen.
I reach for her, manage to snag her arm despite the fact every muscle in my body hurts and my head is spinning. “You don’t wanna know about it, girl. Trust me on this.”
“But I do, I do want to know—”
“Have you heard a single word I’ve said? This is dangerous shit, and it has nothing to do with you.” I take a deep breath and force myself to go on, because fuck, my throat hurts, my head is pounding and the possibility of being sick all over her is still in the cards. “You don’t need to be here. There’s nothing between us. I can take care of myself. Just fucking go.”
There’s hurt in her eyes, there and gone in a flash. Which makes me frown. Fuck, that’s not good. She can’t have any expectations from me. 
I tighten my hold on her arm until she winces. “I said go.”
“Fuck you, Hawk.”
“You got a filthy mouth.” And I want it on me, dammit. I jerk her closer to me. “I need you gone. Now.”
“Sucks being you, then. To not get what you want, for a change.”
“I always get what I fucking want.” And she’s pressed against me, soft tits pressed to my chest, soft mouth a breath away, long lashes shielding her eyes, and this is fucked up.
Because what I want is her. Have wanted her since I first saw her, in so many ways.







CAUGHT (Prequel to HAWK) 
Steamy novella leading to the events in HAWK. ~ HAWK is a cocky bastard. Rich, handsome, sexy. He cast his net and I was caught. We have an arrangement: no attachments, no feelings. Only hot, awesome sex. I’m perfectly fine with that. If only my head—and my heart—didn’t have other ideas…


CAUGHT is free on all platforms:
 NOOK   KOBO   WATTPAD 
HAWK (Sex and Bullets 2) 
Romantic suspense novel. Standalone. No cliffhanger.
~ The only good thing in my life right now is Layla, and all that matters to me is keeping her safe – but I’m playing a dangerous game, and pissed-off thugs who kidnapped me will regret it if they ever lay a finger on her… 

HAWK is only #99c - the price will go up a few days after release! 
APPLE   NOOK   KOBO 
STORM (Sex and Bullets #1)
Drop-dead gorgeous, kind, and hot in bed, Storm may not be what he seems. Who is the real Storm, and what is he hiding? Raylin had better find out before the bullets begin to fly. Standalone novel. No cliffhanger.

STORM is only 99c for a limited time to honor the release of HAWK!








STORM (Sex and Bullets #1)
Drop-dead gorgeous, kind, and hot in bed, Storm may not be what he seems. Who is the real Storm, and what is he hiding? Raylin had better find out before the bullets begin to fly. Standalone novel. No cliffhanger.

STORM is only 99c for a limited time to honor the release of HAWK!



CAUGHT (Prequel to HAWK) 
Steamy novella leading to the events in HAWK. ~ HAWK is a cocky bastard. Rich, handsome, sexy. He cast his net and I was caught. We have an arrangement: no attachments, no feelings. Only hot, awesome sex. I’m perfectly fine with that. If only my head—and my heart—didn’t have other ideas…


CAUGHT is free on all platforms:
 NOOK   KOBO   WATTPAD 


Jo Raven is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, best known for her series Inked Brotherhood and Damage Control. She writes edgy, contemporary New Adult romance with sexy bad boys and strong-willed heroines. She writes about MME fighters and tattoo artists, dark pasts that bleed into the present, loyalty and raw emotion. Add to that breathtaking suspense, super-hot sex scenes and a happy ending, and you have a Jo Raven® story.


 Find all her books here . 


Be the first to get your hands on Jo Raven’s new releases & offers, giveaways, previews, and more by signing up here 


Meet Jo Raven online – on Facebook


chat with her on Twitter (@AuthorJoRaven) 
join her readers group for sneak previews of her covers and stories


Sunday 19 June 2016

My Last Love Story by Falguni Kothari


About the Book:
Perfect for fans of Jojo Moyes’s, Me Before You, My Last Love Story is a heartbreakingly romantic tale about the complexities of trauma and whether love can right a wrong.

I, Simeen Desai, am tired of making lemonade with the lemons life has handed me.

Love is meant to heal wounds.
Love was meant to make my world sparkle and spin.
Love has ripped my life apart and shattered my soul. 

I love my husband, and he loves me.
But Nirvaan is dying.
I love my husband. I want to make him happy.
But he is asking for the impossible. 

I don’t want a baby.
I don’t want to make nice with Zayaan.
I don’t want another chance at another love story. 


Book Links:

Dreamcast for My Last Love Story


Which fiction author does not dream of having her book adapted onto the big screen? I think most authors start dreaming from the first written word as we have to imagine our heroes and heroines and who better to imagine them as than movie actors?

If My Last Love Story gets a movie deal, here’s who I’d wish to cast in it:


Simeen must be played by Alia Bhatt because she fits the body type (petite and loose-limbed), the age bracket (30-ish), and their facial and other physical features match wonderfully (sweet, gamine face + wavy hair + a nose that stands out.)


Nirvaan can be played by Ranveer Singh (my current Bollywood crush!), again because having seen him in Dil Dhadakne Do, I think he’d fill Nirvaan’s daredevil shoes very well.




Zayaan is a toss up between Fawad Khan from Kapoor and Sons fame or Riz Ahmed from The Reluctant Fundamentalist (movie.) I feel both actors have the right savoir faire on screen and off screen to be perfect for the role.


And that’s my dream cast for MLLS. Once you read the book, let me know if you agree or disagree with my choices.

Best,
Falguni.

Read an Excerpt:


Dear Readers, thank you for coming along on the My Last Love Story Blog Tour. Here’s an excerpt to enjoy.

ONE

“Love is a dish best served naked.”
As a child, those oft-quoted words of my father would have me rolling my eyes and pretending to gag at what I’d imagined was my parents’ precursor to a certain physical act. 
At thirty, I’d long ago realized that getting naked wasn’t a euphemism for sex. 
Neither was love.
It wasn’t my father wording the meme just now but my husband. Nirvaan considered himself a great wit, a New Age philosopher. On the best of days, he was, much like Daddy had been. On the worst days, he was my tormentor. 
“What do you think, Dr. Archer? Interesting enough tagline for a vlog? What about ‘Baby in a Petri Dish’?” Nirvaan persisted in eliciting a response from the doctor and/or me for his ad hoc comedy, which we’d been ignoring for several minutes now.
I wanted to glare at him, beg him to shut up, or demand that he wait in the doctor’s office like he should’ve done, like a normal husband would have. Khodai knows why he’d insisted on holding my hand through this preliminary checkup. Nothing of import would happen today—if it did at all. But I couldn’t perform any such communication, not with my eyes and mouth squeezed shut while I suffered through a series of uncomfortable twinges along my nether regions. 
I lay flat on my back on a spongy clinic bed sheeted with paper already wrinkled and half torn. Legs drawn up and spread apart, my heels dug punishingly into cold iron stirrups to allow my gynecologist’s clever fingers to reach inside my womb and check if everything was A-OK in there. We’d already funneled through the Pap test and stomach and chest checks. Like them, this test, too, was going swell in light of Dr. Archer’s approving happy hums. 
“Excellent, Mrs. Desai. All parts are where they should be,” he joked only as a doctor could.
I shuddered out the breath I’d been holding, as the feeling of being stretched left my body. Nirvaan squeezed my hand and planted a smacking kiss on my forehead. I opened my eyes and focused on his beaming upside-down ones. His eyelids barely grew lashes anymore—I’d counted twenty-seven in total just last week—the effect of years of chemotherapy. For a second, my gaze blurred, my heart wavered, and I almost cried. 
What are we doing, Nirvaan? What in Khodai’s name were we starting?
Nirvaan stroked my hair, his pitch-black pupils steady and knowing and oh-so stubborn. Then, his face rose to the stark white ceiling, and all I saw was the green-and-blue mesh of his gingham shirt—the overlapping threads, the crisscross weaves, a pattern without end. 
Life is what you make it, child. It was another one of my father’s truisms.
Swallowing the questions twirling on my tongue, I refocused my mind on why we were here. I’d promised Nirvaan we’d try for a baby if he agreed to another round of cancer-blasting treatments. I’d bartered for a few more months of my husband’s life. He’d bartered for immortality through our child.
Dr. Archer rolled away from between my legs to the computer station. He snapped off and disposed of the latex gloves. Then, he began typing notes in near-soundless staccato clicks. Though the examination was finished, I knew better than to sit up until he gave me leave. I’d been here before, done this before—two years ago when Nirvaan had been in remission and the idea of having a baby had wormed its way into his head. We’d tried the most basic procedures then, whatever our medical coverage had allowed. We hadn’t been desperate yet to use our own money, which we shouldn’t be touching even now. We needed every penny we had for emergencies and alternative treatments, but try budging my husband once he’d made up his mind.
“I’m a businessman, Simi. I only pour money into a sure thing,” he rebuked when I argued.
I brought my legs together, manufacturing what poise and modesty I could, and pulled the sea-green hospital gown bunched beneath my bottom across my half-naked body. I refused to look at my husband as I wriggled about, positive his expression would be pregnant with irony, if not fully smirking. And kudos to him for not jumping in to help me like I would have. 
The tables had turned on us today. For the past five years, it’d been Nirvaan thrashing about on hospital beds, trying in vain to find relief and comfort, modesty or release. Nirvaan had been poked, prodded, sliced, and bled as he battled aggressive non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I’d been the stoic spectator, the supportive wife, the incompetent nurse, the ineffectual lover. 
And now? What role would I play now?
As always, thinking about our life left me feeling even more naked than I was in the open-fronted robe. I turned my face to the wall, my eyes stinging, as fear and frustration bubbled to the surface. Flesh-toned posters of laughing babies, pregnant mothers, and love-struck fathers hung from the bluish walls. Side by side were the more educative ones of human anatomy, vivisected and whole. The test-tube-like exam room of Monterey Bay Fertility Clinic was decorated in true California beach colors—sea-foam walls, sandy floors, pearl-pink curtains, and furniture—bringing the outdoors in. If the decor was meant to be homey, it wasn’t having such an effect on me. This room, like this town and even this country, was not my natural habitat, and I felt out of my element in it. 
I’d lived in California for seven years now, ever since my marriage, and I still didn’t think of it as home, not like Nirvaan did. Home for me was India. And no matter the dark memories it held, home would always be Surat.
“All done.” Dr. Archer pushed the computer trolley away and stood up. “You can get dressed, Mrs. Desai. Take your time. Use whatever supplies you need. We’ll wait for you in my office,” he said, smiling. 
Finally, I can cover myself, I thought. Gooseflesh had erupted across my skin due to the near frigid clinic temperatures doctors tortured their patients with—like a patient didn’t have enough to suffer already. Medical facilities maintained cool indoor temperatures to deter inveterate germs from contaminating the premises and so its vast flotilla of equipment didn’t fry. I knew that. But knowing it still didn’t inspire any warm feelings in me for the “throng of professional sadists with a god complex.” I quoted my husband there. 
Nirvaan captured my attention with a pat on my head. “See you soon, baby,” he said, following the doctor out of the room. 
I scooted off the bed as soon as the door shut behind them. My hair tumbled down my face and shoulders at my jerky movements. I smoothed it back with shaking hands. Long, wavy, and a deep chestnut shade, my hair was my crowning glory, my one and only feature that was lush and arresting. Nirvaan loved my hair. I wasn’t to cut it or even braid it in his presence, and so it often got hopelessly knotted. 
I shrugged off the clinic gown, balled it up, and placed it on the bed. I wiped myself again and again with antiseptic wipes, baby wipes, and paper towels until the tissues came away stain-free. I didn’t feel light-headed. I didn’t allow myself to freak. I concentrated on the flow of my breaths and the pounding of my heart until they both slowed to normal. 
It was okay. I was not walking out with a gift-wrapped baby in tow. Not today. No reason to freak out.
I reached for my clothes and slipped on my underwear. They were beige with tiny white hearts on them—Victoria’s Secret lingerie Nirvaan had leered and whistled at this morning. 
Such a silly man. Typical Nirvaan, I corrected, twisting my lips. 
Even after dressing in red-wash jeans and a full-sleeved sweater, I shivered. My womb still felt invaded and odd. As I stepped into my red patent leather pumps, an unused Petri dish sitting on the workstation countertop caught my eye. 
The trigger for Nirvaan’s impromptu comedy, perhaps? 
Despite major misgivings about the Hitleresque direction my life had taken, humor got the better of me, and I grinned. 
Silly, silly Nirvaan. Baby in a Petri dish, indeed.


About the Author:


Falguni Kothari is an internationally bestselling hybrid author and an amateur Latin and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a background in Indian Classical dance. She writes in a variety of genres sewn together by the colorful threads of her South Asian heritage and expat experiences. When not writing or dancing, she fools around on all manner of social media, and loves to connect with her readers. My Last Love Story is her fourth novel.







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Saturday 18 June 2016

Saved By a Soldier by Alison Mello



Title: Saved By a Soldier 

 Author: Alison Mello









Patricia Ann Fitzgerald is no man’s arm candy…


Refusing to entertain her mother’s ridiculous notion that she should become the perfect little housewife for her ex-boyfriend Ben, Patty escapes to her father’s lake house to focus on what matters most to her. She has to break through her writer’s block and start her next book.

Medically discharged from the service and suffering from PTSD, Carter Montgomery is still trying to get his life back in order…

When Carter's father Jackson suggests a week at the lake, it's not only so he can gain a little clarity about his future. Jackson has other plans for his recovering son, intending for him to watch over his best friend’s daughter while she’s on a solo writing retreat—an idea that doesn’t please Carter at all.

Patty finds it hard to get any work done when her attention keeps diverting to the handsome stranger next door…

Patty is persuaded to attend a charity event, despite knowing her ex will be in attendance. When Ben rudely interrupts Patty’s dance with her father and drags her off the floor, Carter is quick to intervene. He’s tired of admiring Patty from afar, and refuses to see her treated that way. Ready to ditch the stuffy event, Patty escapes with her savior someplace where they can finally talk.

Ben always gets what he wants, and he isn’t willing to let Patty slip away…

Patty fights to preserve her blooming relationship with Carter from the critical eyes of her mother and the scheming ways of her ex. Will Carter manage to get his life back in order in time to save Patty from the life she never wanted?










Alison Mello is a wife and stay at home mom to a wonderful little boy. She lives with her amazing family in Massachusetts. She loves playing soccer, basketball and football with her son.

After having her son, Alison started reading again and fell in love with Contemporary Romance. Reading made her happy and gave her something to do when she had downtime.  As she started to read more, she started to notice things she really enjoyed in a book and things she didn’t. She began to have ideas for writing one of her own.  One day she literally woke up and started writing.  She realized that if there was ever a time for her to write, it was now.  She had a part time job to give her something to do. The hours at work were slow and she was bored with what she was doing, so while her son was off enjoying his friends over summer vacation she got started.

Alison finished the first book in two weeks and decided that she really enjoyed writing, so she kept going. She already had ideas in mind for books two and three, so she kept writing.  That is how the Learning to Love Series was born. Somewhere along the line, one of my Beta readers convinced me that Michael, a character from Finding Love, needed his own story.  That is when Alison added the fourth and final book. Alison hopes you enjoy her books as much as she enjoyed writing them.

She’s so glad she started this writing journey and hopes you will stay with her for the ride. Chasing Dreams is scheduled to release in April and the first two books of the Love Conquers Life series will be out this summer!


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