Wednesday 31 January 2018

Home on Anna Maria Island by Elley Arden




Contemporary Romance
Date Published: January 31, 2018

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Pittsburgh Privateers third baseman Gavin Sullivan is home on Anna Maria Island with a lot on his mind: his mother’s recent battle with breast cancer and, now, the surprising news his oldest brother, Colby, is a twin. Gavin has a sister he’s never met, and worse, he’s sworn to secrecy while his parents try to find her. Is it any wonder he shows up to Spring Training thirty pounds heavier than last season? Armed with a complicated diet and a warning from Coach Zee, Gavin feels wrecked, until he finds a half-naked goddess on his parent’s stretch of beach. Funny how the body that has been making him feel so miserable lately suddenly has him flying high.

Curve model Emerson Raye wants to prove the naysayers back home in West Virginia wrong. Big is beautiful, too. All she has to do is land a spot in the Sports Unlimited Swimsuit Edition by convincing America to vote for her. When pro athlete Gavin Sullivan stumbles onto her oceanfront photo shoot and asks her out for drinks, Emerson and her assistant concoct a plan to leak photos of the date to the media and create the vote-getting buzz Emerson needs. Soon, Emerson realizes there’s more to Gavin than meets the eye, and their temporary, no-strings relationship heats up. But can something lasting survive under harsh media scrutiny when secrets threaten to sabotage everything?



Excerpt



Emerson had been kissed before. She had a modelling career full of air kisses, double-cheek kisses, and the occasional, friendly smooch on the mouth. She also had a personal life spattered with overeager, often rushed kisses that were nothing more than prerequisites for the main event.

Gavin Sullivan’s kisses weren’t like anything she’d ever encountered.

He took his time, eliciting pleasure with more than his mouth. His hands grazed her neck, his thumbs stroked her jaw. His fingers threaded through the fine hairs at her nape. And all along, his mouth explored her mouth. Lips to lips. Tongue to tongue.

He tasted like butter and sweet champagne. He smelled like citrus fruit and sandalwood.

She leaned into him and whimpered. Her hands gripping the collar of his linen shirt. Her body burned. Her brain urged her to crawl into his lap and settle in for a long, slow, mind-blowing ride. And she was seconds away from obeying when above them, someone cleared his throat.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

Emerson jerked back.

“Dessert?” the man asked as he set shell-shaped bowls of sorbet in front of them.

Gavin didn’t move. He didn’t take his hungry eyes off Emerson. “Thank you,” he said to the man. “That’ll be all for tonight.”

Looking into Gavin’s eyes, Emerson’s heartrate tripled. She wanted him. Even if it made her vulnerable. She wanted this. Even if it was a fantasy.

When the man left, Gavin grinned and reached for the silver spoon beside her bowl. “Dessert?” He dipped the spoon into the single scoop of light-colored sorbet and lifted it like he might feed her, but then, with an even brighter grin, he brought the spoon to his own beautiful mouth and licked it clean. “Lemon,” he said, his voice warm and deep.

She opened her mouth, and, for a split second, was afraid her throat was too dry to speak. “I like lemon,” she said, watching him help himself to another bite.

This time, he set the spoon down, and inched closer, so close, she could feel the cold on his tongue and smell the lemon on his lips.

“Want a taste?” he whispered.

She wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders and pulled him in. Their lips locked. Their tongues tangled. He shoved his hands beneath her thighs and guided her onto his lap. Skirt riding high. Heart beating fast. She settled over his erection, biting back a moan as he nipped at her jaw and rubbed erotic patterns up and down her back. And then, he was licking her ear, tugging her lobe, sliding his hands along the silk of her dress to her stomach and the underside of her breasts.

Emerson tipped back her head, and her eyes fluttered open to the starry sky. Was it awful to pray during something like this? Because she wanted to. She wanted to pray for this to be real.



About the Author


Elley Arden is the author of the groundbreaking and critically acclaimed Cleveland Clash series. She previously worked for The Walt Disney Company and spent over a decade as a non-fiction writer and editor. When she’s not writing, Elley can be found reading, watching sports, redecorating her house, or kicking her husband’s butt in Words With Friends. She lives in Pennsylvania with her high school sweetheart and their three crazy (in a good way) kids.




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Monday 29 January 2018

Just Like Breathing by Diana Gardin



Title: Just Like Breathing
Author: Diana Gardin 
Release Date: March 12
Cover Designer: RBA Designs
Genre: Contemporary Romance








From Author Diana Gardin comes a new STANDALONE, Contemporary Romance.
Her broken pieces are the only thing holding him together...
Arden
One moment, one twist of fate’s cruel hand--and I lost everything. My soul broke into a million pieces I didn’t know how to put back together... until him.
He dragged me through hell and brought me back. But when he saw the person behind the destruction, he hesitated.

Flash
It didn’t take more than a few seconds for the life I knew to crash and burn. With no anchor, I reached out. I didn’t expect to grab onto someone more broken than me... But when she exhaled the first breath of air into my lungs, I knew damn well I wasn’t good enough for her.
The only question was how long could I hold on?


Pre-Order for only 99c 



Diana Gardin is the author of eleven sexy, emotional romance novels. She refers her heroes bossy and tattooed, and her heroines smart and sassy. Diana is obsessed with super heroes, the beach, and all things purple. When she's not writing you can find her spending time with her husband and two young children.




Saturday 27 January 2018

The Immortality Trigger by Douglas Misquita

~ The Immortality Trigger by Douglas Misquita ~
a Luc Fortesque adventure thriller


1945 
Allied paratroopers raid a secret Nazi research facility. The operation is reported as a success. But, the lone survivor, Benjamin Ezra, knows otherwise. 

2014 
A drug lord, El Fantasma threatens to plunge Colombia into an era of bloody drug wars. DEA Country AttachĂ©, Zachary Mason is in charge of a covert operation to remove El Fantasma, with the help of a vigilante, El Angel, and a retired undercover agent, Raymond Garrett. 

In Naples, INTERPOL agent, Sabina Wytchoff, is investigating the death of her parents, when the Wytchoff family’s association with an ancient cabal comes under investigation. 

After the events of The Apocalypse Trigger, Luc Fortesque, is scouring the world for the man who tested experimental drugs on him. 

Wei Ling works for a shadow Transhumanist faction within China’s State Council, developing drugs that will enhance human longevity. 

Their paths will converge… violently… and conclude the mission that began in 1945.

The Immortality Trigger is also available at all leading eBook retailers


Reviews for The Immortality Trigger:

"...with a storyteller of Misquita’s caliber, you just may need Dramamine before the first chapter is done." - Bestthrillers.com

"For fans of the fast-paced and modern tale with global reach that dabbles in history, this is a perfect storm." - Lydia Peever


"The Immortality Trigger cemented in my mind why Douglas Misquita is my favourite Indian thriller author." - Newton Lewis


Other books in the series:
         



Douglas Misquita is an action-adventure thriller writer from Mumbai, India. He hammered out his first novel on the keyboard of a laptop with half-a-working-screen, and has been churning out literary entertainment to the tune of a book-a-year. His books have been praised for their pace, locales, intertwined plots, research and visuals - it’s almost like watching a movie… only, this one unfolds across the pages of a book! 





Giveaway:
One Paperback Copy of The Immortality Trigger by Douglas Misquita
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday 24 January 2018

Saving Madeline by Cricket Rohman



Women’s Fiction
Date Published:  May 2017

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On Sale for $1.99 for a Limited Time!!


SAVING MADELINE is unusual, heart-wrenching and humorous. In the beginning, Roxy, a spunky, young actor arrives in Hollywood to follow her dream and escape from her mean-spirited family. When she finds herself coexisting in a cramped Los Angeles apartment with a wounded warrior and her German shepherd, tensions run high. And then her mother moves in—so much for escaping.

Along comes the well-connected acting coach, James Jonathan Jarvis, and Roxy’s big break in showbiz: a part in a reality TV show with a wilderness survival theme. But a week before rehearsals begin, her mother disappears. Roxy’s search leads her close to Montana where she and Madeline become trapped in a real life-and-death situation.

Though bombarded with daily challenges, the women laugh at their frequent calamities, and Roxy’s Hollywood misadventures buffer the troubling glimpses into the world of a woman whose memory is fading.



Excerpt


A short excerpt from the section

Guests Come Knocking

In Saving Madeline



Then Roxy contemplated doing something she’d sworn she would never, ever do. Don’t do it. Do Not Do This! Her palms sweated, her stomached rolled, then taking a deep breath, she did it. She opened the Help Wanted section of a regular newspaper and searched for an ordinary, though flexible, part-time job—just like normal, non-showbiz people did. To her surprise, she spotted two possibilities right away. One involved helping first-year college students revise and edit their failing work from the required course, Writing 101. Piece of cake. She could do that in her sleep. The other required someone capable of assisting a high school aged male with his guitar playing and songwriting.

“Ah, ha!” she declared. Now that was a tasty piece of cake. She wanted that job. Without any hesitation, Roxy made the call, which resulted in an on-the-spot phone interview with a pleasant, friendly woman.

“There is just one more question I must ask,” the woman said after they’d spoken a while. “And I’d like to offer my apology in advance for asking it.”

Roxy waited, curious.

“My son has a thing for starlets, and starlets seem to have a thing for him. Do you consider yourself a starlet?”

Not certain of the meaning or motive of her question, Roxy replied, “What’s a starlet?”

Genuine, hearty laughter traveled across the phone line, followed by, “Perfect. You’re perfect. When can you start?”

* * *



“Hi. You must be Liam,” she said. “Come on in. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?”

“Thanks, man. A beer would be great.”

He was a good-looking young man with short dark hair and eyes to match. She figured he was kidding about the beer because he definitely wasn’t old enough to drink. He was still in high school. So she smiled and played along.

“One beer coming up—right after I check your ID.”

He shot her a look of annoyance. “Are you messing with me?”

“No, but I thought you were joking. You weren’t?”

“Hell, no. Come on. Everybody drinks beer.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Not a problem. Wine, whiskey—I’m not picky.”

The content of this first conversation with her arrogant new student was unbelievable. Was this typical behavior for an L.A. teen, or was she just being a mid-western geek?

She brought him a can of soda and asked him to play something. He didn’t react. She nudged, needing to make this small job a continuing reality. “How long have you been playing guitar?”

He shrugged, reluctant to answer her simple question, so she asked again.

He sipped his soda, looking both bored and annoyed. It was as if he didn’t want to be there, but then with a tilt of his head and one eyebrow slightly raised, he tossed out an answer. “Since I was a kid.”

In her estimation, he still was a kid, albeit an alcohol drinking kid. When he finally freed the Martin guitar from its case and played a few bars, Roxy was blown away. As badly as she needed the cash, she let him know that she wasn’t the right person to advance his guitar playing ability. Between the two of them, he was by far the better musician. His musical talent was amazing.

“That’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m more interested in breaking into show business than I am in upping my guitar skills.”

For now, Roxy kept her thoughts to herself. She could relate to his dream, but she wasn’t the person to help him with that, either. She had no connections, no ‘ins’ when it came to breaking the showbiz code.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “So you’re here expecting me to help you break into show business via your songwriting ability?”

“Not exactly.” He gave her a lopsided smile. She gave him a confused frown. “I’m here because my parents are trying to keep me out of trouble. They’ve lined up a bunch of activities to keep me busy. You’re just one of them.” An amused expression flashed across his face. “Hey, since I am here, what do you think of this?” He played a new riff on his guitar. “Are you any good with lyrics? Help me come up with some words to go with that.”

His unique musical style intrigued Roxy. She dug out a notebook and pencil and settled on the floor in front of him. The words and music came together with surprising ease. Or so it seemed. They both agreed they were on to something great and had the beginnings of a real song.

With their first session over, Roxy asked, “Same time next week?”

Placing a few folded bills into her palm, he shrugged. “Sure.”

After her student had managed to shove the ill-fitting door closed, she stood in her living room with her ears ringing from the sudden silence. After spending time creating and playing music with Liam, the apartment felt empty, lonely.  She didn’t like that feeling, but she did like the fact that she held $30 cash in her hand. Cash she had earned.

Expecting to see a twenty and a ten, she sat and stared at the money. The two faces staring back at her belonged to neither Alexander Hamilton nor Andrew Jackson. She stood face-to-face with Ulysses S. Grant times two. One hundred dollars. Was this a mistake? Should she be elated or concerned? Until Roxy learned the truth, she’d consider the extra $70 to be a gift, a bonus for a job well done.

# # #


About the Author


Cricket Rohman grew up in Estes Park, Colorado and spent her formative years among deer, coyotes and beautiful blue columbine. Today she is a full-time author writing women’s fiction and mysteries about the cowboys, lovers, teachers, dogs, the great outdoors—even Alzheimer’s. And, so far, there is a dog in every one of her novels.

Book 1 FOREVER ISLAND and Book 2 WINTER’S BLUSH of The Fantasy Maker series, romance novellas, were released November 2017.

The romantic western, COLORADO TAKEDOWN, is scheduled for release early summer of 2018.

Prior to writing, Cricket's career path included the following adventures: actor, singer, audio/video producer, classroom teacher, school principal, and U of A assistant professor.



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Monday 22 January 2018

Screams You Hear by James Morris





Horror
Date Published: January 22, 2018

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Murder and madness infect a small town


For sixteen-year-old Ruthie Stroud, life on tiny Hemlock Island in the Pacific Northwest is an endless sea of boring green, in a place where everybody knows everybody’s business and nothing ever happens. Then her world is ripped apart when her parents divorce and a new man enters her mother’s life. But worse is yet to come.


When she drifts ashore on the mainland, hideously burned, Ruthie has a harrowing tale to tell. It begins with the murder of a family. It ends with her being the sole survivor of a cataclysm that sweeps her little island. As a detective attempts to unravel Ruthie’s story of murder and madness, only one horrifying conclusion can be drawn: whatever was isolated on remote Hemlock Island may now have come to the mainland. Is Ruthie safe? Is anyone?



Excerpt



Chapter One



I wake to pain, pain beyond comprehension, my skin on fire, only to find myself in a hospital bed, my arms bandaged, and wires snaking into machines. The burns are covered in white gauze and every motion, no matter how small, sends my nerves screaming. The air is heavy against my skin. And that smell. I can still smell the bitterness of my singed hair. I feel my head, expecting strands of hair, thick and wavy, but it’s gone. There are only splotches of emptiness, a topography of touch that alarms me. I wonder if it will ever grow back.

Tendrils of anxiety course through me, pulsing steadily. I need to wake up from whatever this is.

In spite of the pain, I caress my face and I have no eyebrows. Only stubble. No matter where I touch, my skin isn’t soft; it’s leather, a mask that rests too tightly against my skull. It’s like my skin is both expanding and contracting, pushing and pulling.

In the cyclone of terror, I remember. I remember everything.

I wish I didn’t. I wish it all away.

Around the room, there are no mirrors, and I know it’s no accident. It’s small comfort. I don’t want to see myself. I may never look in a mirror again. It’s only me and a bed, and colorful murals of elephants and giraffes on the wall, their cartoon smiles mocking me. I must be in the children’s wing, even though I’m sixteen. Next to me, an IV recedes into my vein. To my left is a button. It could be to call for assistance. Or to adjust the bed. But I think it’s something else. I think it’s for pain.

I could press it and disappear into numbness.

I could press it and just drift.

But there is something about pain. It’s the price of being alive.

The button is my litmus test.

I am stronger than my pain. I need to focus on something—anything. I need to distract myself.

I am not my pain.

I am Ruthie Stroud. I live at— wait—not anymore. I have a brother—no, not anymore.

I shut my eyes. I can’t shut them hard enough. Through the darkness, I still see fire. My world engulfed with flickering orange and reds. And the all-encompassing heat, heat beyond boiling, bordering on oblivion. Melting.

My last memory is coming ashore on the mainland, alone and fiercely tired. I didn’t walk, didn’t run. I moved, floating, held aloft by the most invisible of strings, my eyes on the horizon, people on the edges of my vision. Adults. I felt their gaze. The air was cool and moist and my skin so hot. Moving and moving; people staring. I hear them, words like police and 911 and oh my God. They surround me, a horde. They’re feral creatures, circling, their faces distorted. They are coming for me. I have no escape.

I scream and my world goes dark.

“Ruthie?”

I open my eyes. A woman stands in the hospital room doorway. Her skin is the color of teak, her black hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and without a uniform, she’s clearly no nurse. I look down her button-down shirt and a badge is attached to her belt, a gun holstered at her side.

She says, not unkindly, “I’m Detective Perez from the Washington State Police.”

I knew the cops would get involved, even though they’re late. Far too late.

She waits for me to invite her in. “May I?”

I nod and my skin crinkles and cracks. She enters, pulling a chair beside my bed and sits down. Her brown eyes rest on me and then dart away. She can’t bear to look. I must seem a monster. She asks, “How are you feeling?”

I don’t know how to answer that question.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Down the hall, I hear a child scream. From surgery or fear, I don’t know. I think fight the pain, fight the pain.

She speaks to me in soothing tones. “I need to ask you a few questions. About what happened. Can you talk?”

My mouth is dry, my throat sore, my vocal chords thrashed. I’d forgotten how much I screamed. I feel my skin wrinkle into deep crevices as I move my jaw, and it’s an effort to form words. Even my tongue feels burned; this strange muscle in my mouth. “Is my dad coming?”

“He’s on his way.” We share a bit of silence and I stare at the woman she is, the beautiful woman I will never be, and she says, “I’d like to start at the beginning. And if there’s ever a point where you need to stop, just let me know, okay?”

“There’s just one thing,” and I clear my throat. I force her to find my eyes. To see. To look. To understand.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t judge me,” I tell her. “I did what I had to.”



About the Author


James Morris is a former television writer who now works in digital media. He is the author of the Kindle Scout selectees What Lies Within and Melophobia, as well as the young adult suspense Feel Me Fall and trio of short stories Abraham Lincoln Must Die. Catch him at jamesmorriswriter.com.



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Friday 19 January 2018

Wild Talk by Dani Antoinette



Title: Wild Talk 
Author: Dani Antoinette 
Genre: Contemporary Romance 
Cover Design: Dani Antoinette 










Madeline
When life hands you lemons, you cut them open and squirt them in life’s eyes, right? Graduating from college and moving to Chicago was part of the plan. Becoming a phone sex operator was not. But you know what? I’m loving every minute of it. Until I run into Mason King—literally—and he turns my world upside down.

Mason
Every coin has two sides. Right and wrong, truth and lies. It’s my job to figure out which side she’s on. She’s sweet yet sassy, angelic yet a liar. Is she as innocent as she makes herself out to be? Or a clever thief?







Get your game face on, Mason, it’s showtime.


The bulge in my pants had not budged. I stood up as Ms. Lewis rang, alerting me to the visitor I had waiting. Miss St. Clair. I told Ms. Lewis to wait thirty seconds and send her in. I went to my private bathroom and shut the door, willing my erection to go away.


Old people having sex.

A truck stop bathroom.

“Hello?” I heard Madeline through my door. “Is anyone here?”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the bathroom door.

Madeline underneath me, Madeline on top of me.
I opened one eye and looked down at my crotch. It was still visible. I exhaled and stood up straight.
Tough shit, King.
I opened the door and found her leaning one hand against the window with her back to me. She had on shorts and a tank top. I cleared my throat and she startled. She turned to me, her eyes wide as she watched me approach her.  
“If you get my window dirty, you will have to clean it,” I teased.
“You!” she grumbled. “You stole my planner?”
I took my hands out of my pockets and put them in front of me. “You didn’t lose it on purpose?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at me.
No bra.
“Why would I lose it on purpose?” she retorted. I walked closer, standing in front of her.
“To see me again?” I asked. I took a step closer, then another until her back was pressed against the window, boxing her in with my arms next to her head. I drank her in. She smelled like the beach and pineapples and I wondered if she tasted that way.
She uncrossed her arms and put her fingers behind her, pressing against the window. “Why would I want to see you again?” Her eyes roamed over my chest, not making eye contact.
“Look at me,” I coaxed. Her eyes made her way up my chest before resting on my lips for a millisecond then meeting my eyes. “See, not so bad, is it?” My lips curled into a grin.
Her eyes darkened as she took a step closer to me, an inch away from my chest. “Did you want a repeat of yesterday?” she purred. She trailed her fingers up my chest.
I raised my eyebrow at her.
Challenge accepted.
“Of you on top of me?”
She splayed her fingers against my chest and up to my shoulders, my chest burning underneath her touch. I moved my right hand down to her waist and pulled her close against me. I drank in the sight of her tongue darting out, moistening her lips as her chest pressed against mine. She brought her hand up and rested it on the back of my neck. Her fingers were soft as she played with my hair. I held my breath as she pulled my head down, her lips an inch away from my ear.   
“No, of me kicking your ass.” She pulled my hair back and lifted her knee, aiming for my groin.
I was ready for her this time. I moved my arm under her raised knee and lifted her up to straddle me, her butt pressed against the window. Her face registered surprise as she looked down, her legs wrapped around me, my erection pressed against her. There was no way it was going down. Not now.
“Put me down, you animal!” she sputtered, pushing against my chest.
“Easy, tiger, you started it.” I laughed and lowered her body.

















A total bookworm and a hopeless romantic, Dani Antoinette likes to write the kind of stories she loves to read—stories about hot alpha males who embrace the thin line between right and wrong, and the strong, fearless women who are able to handle them. When Dani isn’t devouring books by her favorite authors at her local cafĂ© in downtown Chicago, she spends her time interviewing prospective characters out loud in public places, all while planning her takeover of the romance world.