Category: Book Spotlight
Girl Breaker by Harper Kincaid…Book Spotlight
Girl Breaker (Break On Through Book 3) by Harper Kincaid
Date of Publication: January 17, 2017
Blurb
Sometimes the best thing a good girl can do is make a bad decision.
Jessica has always been the girl with her head in the clouds and her nose in a book, only dating the “nice guys”. But when rough-around-the-edges Viking-biker-god, Mad Max, and his precocious little girl move onto her street, Jessica falls hard and fast for both of them. Max is no stranger to women wanting to share his bed—and he’s always been more than happy to oblige them all. He’s lived wild all his life—that is, until a daughter shows up on his doorstep and he meets a redheaded angel down the block.
There’s nothing more he wants than to claim Jessica as his, to bring the gorgeous spitfire to his bed. But a man like him doesn’t get a happy ending with a woman like her. He’s got a whole other life, one he’s kept secret for good reason. If Jessica found out what he really is, there’s no way she could love him. He should keep his hands to himself. But he’s Mad Max—he’s never done the right thing, and he’s not going to start now.
Warning: Contains a dominating alpha male who’s a lot more than he seems, and a good girl with a swirl of flavors under her vanilla
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About Harper Kincaid
A woman with the heart of a revolutionary,
The mind of a pragmatist,
And the inappropriate humor of your tipsy BFF…
Born in California and raised in South Florida, Harper Kincaid has moved around like a gypsy with a bounty on her head ever since. Along the way, she has worked as a community organizer, an art teacher, a popular blogger, and a crisis counselor (to name a few). All the while, longing to have the guts and follow-through to do what she really wanted: to write and become a published author. That wish has finally come true and she’s tickled hot pink.
When not writing, she adores listening to indie, lo-fi, complaint rock played on vinyl, the theater, well-informed optimism, happy endings (both kinds), and making those close to her laugh ’til they snort. She is a self-admitted change junkie, loving new experiences and places, but have now happily settled in the cutest lil’ town, Vienna, Virginia.
Find Harper Kincaid Online
Cowboys Don’t Come Out by Tara Lain….Excerpt Blog Tour Stop
He stopped and tried to hear over the rushing of the surf out beyond the reef if anyone else hid in the dark. No sounds. Fortunately, no big water hit this beach, so he didn’t have to worry about getting swamped. Actually, between the lapping waves and the brilliant moonlight, the scene resembled some fairy-tale romance. Fuck that.
Right where the dry sand verged on the wet, he flopped on his butt. What she’d said—that he settled for a good-enough life. That he wasn’t happy. Don’t I get to decide that?
He leaned back on his elbows. Yeah, but she’s right. I created a whole life—as if I was somebody else. Most people find “the one” and build a future so it suits them both. I imagined a cowboy and slid into his boots—Rand McIntyre. Say that with a drawl, son. Just one problem. I’m gay—always have been—and cowboys don’t come out. Where does that leave me? A-fucking-lone, pardner. Always will be.
You’re not the only gay cowboy.
Have you seen Brokeback Mountain? Shit.
Phosphorescence sparkled on the tops of the waves farther out. Pretty. Guess there could be all kinds of weird man-eating shit in that water.
Do you think more sharks and barracudas swim at night than during the day?
Yeah, right.
He sprang up, stripped his Hawaiian shirt off and tossed it on the sand, then pulled off the shorts his mom had given him. Commando. What would it feel like to have fishes nibbling at his balls? Not like anybody else was doing any nibbling. He strode into the water. Whoa! Not cold, just startling.
When he waded out past his thighs, his penis and balls started to float. He chuckled. Kind of like being a kid in the bathtub. Endless hours of fun playing with your own built-in toys. A few more steps, and he submerged to his shoulders. He gave a tiny shiver. Weird being sunk in inky blackness. Still, the water felt good. He kicked off and swam a few yards out, turned, and stroked back towards shore. He wasn’t a good enough swimmer to push his luck alone at night.
After treading water a couple of minutes, he pulled himself back into the shallows and sat on the hard wet beach. He glanced down. Some shrinkage, but his balls still lay on the sand. Remember to rinse them off or you’ll itch. Slowly he released his breath. What was he going to do? Answer? Same as always. Nothing. He couldn’t risk all the great shit he’d made to try to make it better.
About the Author
Bitter Moon by Alexandra Sokoloff….Book Spotlight and Excerpt
Synopsis:
Book Four in the Thriller Award-nominated
Huntress/FBI series
It is strongly recommended that you read Huntress Moon, Blood Moon and Cold Moon first.
FBI agent Matthew Roarke has been on leave, and in seclusion, since the capture of mass killer Cara Lindstrom–the victim turned avenger who preys on predators. Torn between devotion to the law and a powerful attraction to Cara and her lethal brand of justice, Roarke has retreated from both to search his soul. But Cara’s escape from custody and a police detective’s cryptic challenge soon draw him out of exile—into the California desert and deep into Cara’s past—to probe an unsolved murder that could be the key to her long and deadly career.
Following young Cara’s trail, Roarke uncovers a horrifying attack on a schoolgirl, the shocking suicide of another, and a human monster stalking Cara’s old high school. Separated by sixteen years, crossing paths in the present and past, Roarke and fourteen-year-old Cara must race to find and stop the sadistic sexual predator before more young girls are brutalized.
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Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon DE
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Chapter One
It is the moon that wakes her.
It is always the moon that tells her, somehow, that sends the rush of fight-or-flight chemicals into her blood, galvanizes her body with a warning of danger, a command to wake and act. The eerie light is bright through the window, shimmering in the room.
Now the metallic scratching on the door announces Its presence.
It is here again, the monster, coming for her. The thing that butchered her family. That left her scratched and bleeding and almost dead.
But she has that few moments’ advantage because she knows. She knows the sound of It, Its smell, the hoarse and grating breath, the stench of sweat and malevolence. She knows what has come for her because she has been in a room with It before. She was small then, small and innocent and helpless. But she is bigger now, bigger and stronger and deadlier.
And she has something else. This time she is angry. This thing has stolen her family, has left her alone and scorned and shunned. This time she will fight, and fight to kill.
The creature slips stealthily into the tiny locked room, the counselor with the pitted skin and fat sausage fingers, and the fifteen-year-old bully he has brought for company or for camouflage or maybe for both.
The man is muttering, his breath reeking with alcohol. “Hold her down. Little whore…you know you want it. Strutting around like you own this place. Grab her arms. Hold her down—”
She launches upward, out of her bed. It is caught unawares, and she is a spitfire, punching and scratching and kicking. It happens in moments: the boy’s nose is broken, his eye bleeding; the man’s testicles crushed. And as the boy shrieks and the man lies moaning and clutching himself on the floor, she breathes through the fire in her chest and picks up the man’s foot in both hands and holds the leg straight and brings her foot down as hard as she can on the knee to snap the joint—
The man screams once…and is silent. Passed out. She stands in the dark over the still bodies of the man and the boy, her whole body shaking, her heart slamming in her chest. The harsh breathing is still there, all around her, resonating in the room. Then It slowly recedes, foiled, but not vanquished.
She breathes in, breathes out, calming the frantic racing of her heart.
It will be back, she knows.
For now, she sits and waits for Them to come to take her to jail.
She is twelve years old.
Find out more about this series:
This gripping, Thriller Award-nominated series follows a haunted FBI agent on his hunt for what may be that most rare of all killers… a female serial.
About the author:
Alexandra Sokoloff is the Thriller Award-winning and Bram Stoker, Anthony, and Black Quill Award-nominated author of the supernatural thrillers The Harrowing, The Price, The Unseen, Book of Shadows, The Shifters, and The Space Between; The Keepers paranormal series, and the Thriller Award-nominated, Amazon bestselling Huntress/FBI Thrillers series (Huntress Moon, Blood Moon, Cold Moon), which has been optioned for television. She has also written three non-fiction workbooks: Stealing Hollywood, Screenwriting Tricks for Authors, and Writing Love, based on her internationally acclaimed workshops and blog (www.ScreenwritingTricks.com), and has served on the Board of Directors of the WGA, West (the screenwriters union) and the board of the Mystery Writers of America.
Alex is a California native and a graduate of U.C. Berkeley, where she majored in theater and minored in everything Berkeley has a reputation for. She lives in Los Angeles and in Scotland, with Scottish crime author Craig Robertson. www.Alexandrasokoloff.com
Blog URL: http://www.screenwritingtricks.com
Facebook URL: http://www.facebook.com/alexandra.sokoloff
Twitter: http://twitter.com/AlexSokoloff
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AlexandraSokoloff
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/axsokoloff/
Amazon: The FBI Thriller Series: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B011M9AOBM?keywords=huntress%20moon&qid=1451693113&ref_=sr_1_1_ha&s=digital-text&sr=1-1
Hit The Spot by J. Daniels…..Spotlight
ABOUT THE BOOK
Title: HIT THE SPOT
Author: J. Daniels
Series: Dirty Deeds, #2
On Sale: December 6, 2016
Publisher: Forever
Trade Paperback: $14.99 USD
eBook: $3.99 USD
Is this love or just a game?
Tori Rivera thinks Jamie McCade is rude, arrogant, and worst of all . . . the sexiest man she’s ever laid eyes on. His reputation as a player is almost as legendary as his surfing skills. No matter how her body heats up when he’s around, she’s determined not to be another meaningless hookup.
Jamie McCade always gets what he wants. The sickest wave. The hottest women. And Tori, with her long legs and smart mouth, is definitely the hottest one. He knows Tori wants him—hell, most women do—but she won’t admit it. After months of chasing and one unforgettable kiss, it’s time for Jamie to raise the stakes.
Jamie promises that soon Tori won’t just want him in her bed, she’ll be begging for it-and he might be right. Somehow he’s found the spot in her heart that makes her open up like never before. But with all she knows about his past, can she really trust what’s happening between them? Is Jamie playing for keeps or just playing to win?
LISTEN TO AUDIO CLIPS HERE
Listen to two clips from the audiobook from HIT THE SPOT, narrated by Sebastian York and Kate Russell
BUY THE BOOK HERE
THE DIRTY DEEDS SERIES
FOUR LETTER WORD, #1
HIT THE SPOT, #2
Tori slapped the counter and gained everyone’s attention when she started yelling, “I did not run you over, Jamie! Jesus Christ! Quit spreading lies about me!”
“It ain’t lies if it’s true!” I yelled back, glaring at her.
A laugh bubbled in her throat. She tilted her head and stuck her hand on her hip. “Please. I’m sure you’re still able to bang everything with a pulse, as usual, which means you’re fine. Get over it, and grow some balls. I cried less when I watched Bambi the first time.”
“Who’s hungry?” Syd asked nonchalantly, moving behind her friend to round the island and stand near the stove.
I ignored her question because, what the fuck? Grow some balls?
“I gotta pair, babe,” I told Legs, reaching down and palming my shit. “You should know since you’ve been all up on ’em the past nine months.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re disgusting.”
I felt my mouth twitch.
And that was when, for some fucked up reason, I reverted back to my old ways with Tori Rivera, forgetting all about how much I fucking hated her and instead going full-on, hell-bent determined to get an admission out of that smart-ass mouth.
“You want it,” I countered, tipping my chin up.
She wasn’t expecting that. No more than I was. It threw her off.
Her shoulders pulled back and her lips parted.
Then, maybe to cover her tell, or maybe she didn’t have control over what was flying out of her mouth either, I didn’t know, but she brought her other hand to her hip, glared at me with heat flashing in her eyes, tipped forward, and shot back with attitude, “You want it.”
Well shit. This was new. Legs was challenging me and she was doing it flirting. There was no doubt in my mind.
“Sorry, babe,” I said, keeping the smirk and letting go of my junk. “Not interested. I told you yesterday, I’m done waitin’ around. But you?” I pointed my beer at her. “You’ll be beggin’ for it before the month is up. Just watch.”
“Fat chance,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if my life depended on it.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Bet what?”
“What’s going on right now?” Syd called out, but I wasn’t pausing to answer her.
I smiled at Tori, then gestured between us, explaining, “First one to break and come crawling to the other person for sex, loses.”
“Are you serious?” She laughed, not in amusement but in disbelief.
“Yeah, I’m serious,” I answered.
“You want to bet me that I’ll want to have sex with you before you try and have sex with me?” she questioned, moving her finger between us. “You, the guy who has been hitting on me for nine straight months and has been rejected for nine straight months? You seriously think I’ll not only want to have sex with you, but I’ll beg you for it? Is that what I just heard?”
I nodded slowly. I had this in the bag. “A rule. No fuckin’ anyone unless it’s each other.”
Her eyes bugged.
“And no masturbating either,” I added, raising my beer and using it to gesture. “Since we both know when you do it you’re thinkin’ about me, and if you’re that fuckin’ horny you need to rub one out or you’ll fuckin’ explode, you can come to me, Legs, beg, and I’ll put that fire out for you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series and the Alabama Summer series. She loves curling up with a good book, drinking a ridiculous amount of coffee, and writing stories her children will never read. Daniels grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family.
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RAFFLECOPTER
Love You Dead by Peter James….Book Spotlight, Excerpt, & Giveaway
About Love You Dead:
An ugly duckling as a child, Jodie Bentley had two dreams in life – to be beautiful and rich. She’s achieved the first, with a little help from a plastic surgeon, and now she’s working hard on the second. Her philosophy on money is simple: you can either earn it or marry it. Marrying is easy, it’s getting rid of the husband afterwards that’s harder, that takes real skill. But hey, practice makes perfect . . .
Detective Superintendent Roy Grace is feeling the pressure from his superiors, his previous case is still giving him sleepless nights, there have been major developments with his missing wife Sandy, and an old adversary is back. But worse than all of this, he now believes a Black Widow is operating in his city. One with a venomous mind . . . and venomous skills. Soon Grace comes to the frightening realization that he may have underestimated just how dangerous this lady is.
Love You Dead is the gripping twelfth book in Peter James’ Roy Grace series.
Book Links:
Excerpt (can also be found on the Pan Macmillan website site)
1
Tuesday 10 February
The two lovers peered out of the hotel bedroom window, smiling with glee, but each for a very different reason.
The heavy snowfall that had been forecast for almost a week had finally arrived overnight, and fat, thick flakes of the white stuff were still tumbling down this morning. A few cars, chains clanking, slithered up the narrow mountain road, and others, parked outside the hotels, were now large white mounds.
Everyone in the smart French ski resort of Courchevel 1850 was relieved – the resort managers, the hoteliers, the restaurateurs, the seasonnaires, the ski-rental shops, the lift companies, and all the others who relied on the ski season for much of their livelihood. And, most importantly of all, the winter-sporters themselves. After days of blue skies, searing sunshine and melting snow, which meant treacherous ice in the mornings and slush and exposed rocks in the afternoons, finally the skiers and snowboarders, who had paid top money for their precious annual few days on the slopes, now had great conditions to look forward to.
As Jodie Bentley and her elderly American fiancé, Walt, put on their skis outside the boot-room entrance of the Chabichou Hotel, the falling snow tickled exposed parts of their faces beneath their helmets and visors.
Although a seasoned skier and powder hound, this was the financier’s first time skiing in Europe and he had been relying all week on his much younger fiancée, who seemed to know the resort like the back of her hand, to guide him.
They skied down carefully in the poor visibility to the Biollay lift, just a couple of minutes below the hotel, went through the electronic turnstiles, and joined the short queue to the chairlift. A couple of minutes later, clutching their ski poles, the wide chair scooped them up and forward.
Walt pulled down the safety bar, then they settled back, snug in their cosy outfits, for the seven minutes it took for the lift to carry them to the top. As they alighted, the wind was blowing fiercely, and without hanging around, Jodie led the way down an easy red then blue run to the Croisette, the central lift station for the resort.
They removed their skis, and Walt, despite suffering from a prolapsed disc, insisted on carrying Jodie’s skis as well as his own up the ramp to the lift. As a red eight-seater gondola came slowly round, he jammed their skis into two of the outside holders, then followed Jodie in. They sat down and pushed up their visors. They were followed by another couple and, moments later, just before the doors closed, a short man in his fifties clambered in after them, wearing a smart Spyder ski outfit and a flashy leather helmet with a mirrored visor.
‘Bonjour!’ he said in a bad French accent. Then added, ‘Hope you don’t mind my joining you?’ He settled down opposite them as the gondola lurched forward.
‘Not at all,’ Walt said.
Jodie smiled politely. The other two strangers, both busy texting on their phones, said nothing.
‘Ah bien, vous parlez Anglais!’ The stranger unclipped his helmet and removed it for an instant to scratch the top of his bald head. ‘American?’ he said, pulling off his gloves, then removing a tissue from his pocket and starting to wipe his glasses.
‘I’m from California, but my fiancée’s a Brit,’ Walt said, amicably.
‘Jolly good! Beastly weather but the powder at the top should be to die for,’ the man said.
Jodie smiled politely again. ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.
‘The south – Brighton,’ the stranger replied.
‘Good lord, what a coincidence! So am I!’ Jodie said.
‘Small world,’ he muttered, and suddenly looked uncomfortable.
‘So what line of business are you in?’ Walt asked him.
‘Oh, in the medical world. Just recently retired and moved to France. And yourselves?’
‘I have a group of investment trusts,’ the American replied.
‘I was a legal secretary,’ Jodie said.
As the small gondola climbed, rocked by the wind, the snow was turning into a blizzard and the visibility deteriorating by the minute. Walt put his arm round Jodie and hugged her. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go too high this morning, hon, it’s going to be very windy at the top,’ he said.
‘The powder’s going to be awesome up there,’ she replied, ‘and there won’t be too many people this early. There are some really fabulous runs, trust me!’
‘Well, OK,’ he said, peering dubiously through the misted-up windows.
‘Oh, absolutely,’ the Englishman said. ‘Trust your beautiful young lady – and the forecast is improving!’ As the gondola reached the first stage, he waited politely for them to alight first. ‘Nice meeting you,’ he said. ‘Bye for now.’
The other couple, still texting, remained on the gondola.
With Walt again insisting on carrying Jodie’s skis, they trudged the short distance to the cable car. Normally jam-packed with skiers squashed together like sardines, this morning the huge cabin was three-quarters empty. Along with themselves there were just a few die-hards. Several boarders in their baggy outfits, two rugged-looking, bearded men in bobble hats, wearing rucksacks, who were sharing swigs from a hip flask, and a small assortment of other skiers, one wearing a GoPro camera on his helmet. Walt raised his visor and smiled at Jodie. She raised hers and smiled back.
He removed a glove, jamming it between his skis, produced a chocolate bar from his breast pocket and offered it to Jodie.
‘I’m fine, thanks, still stuffed from breakfast!’
‘You hardly ate anything!’ He broke a piece off, put the bar back in his pocket and zipped it shut, then chewed, peering out anxiously. The cable car rocked in the wind, then swayed alarmingly, causing everyone to shriek, some out of fear, others for fun. He put an arm round Jodie again and she snuggled up against him. ‘Maybe we should get a coffee at the top and wait to see if the visibility improves?’ he said.
‘Let’s do a couple of runs first, my love,’ she replied. ‘We’ll find some fresh powder before it gets ruined by other skiers.’
He shrugged. ‘OK.’ But he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. He stared at her for some moments. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘you’re incredible. Not many people can look beautiful in a helmet and visor, but you do.’
‘And you look every inch my handsome prince!’ she replied.
He tried to kiss her but the top of his helmet bashed against her visor. She giggled, then leaned closer to him and whispered, ‘Too bad there’s other people on here,’ running her gloved hand down his crotch.
He squirmed. ‘Jeez, you’re making me horny!’
‘You make me horny all the time.’
He grinned. Then he looked serious again, and a tad nervous. He peered through a window into the blizzard, and the car yawed in the wind, then swung, almost throwing him off balance. ‘You have your cell with you, hon?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You know – just in case we lose each other in this white-out.’
‘We won’t,’ she said, confidently.
He patted his chest and frowned. Patted it again, then tugged open another zipper. ‘Jeez,’ he said, and began to pat all over the front of his stylish black Bogner ski jacket. ‘I can’t believe it, how stupid. I must have left mine back in the room.’
‘I’m sure I saw you put it in – your top right-hand pocket – before we left,’ she said.
He checked all over again, and his trouser pockets. ‘Goddammit, must have fallen out somewhere – maybe when we were putting our skis on.’
‘We’re going to stay close. Just in case we do get separated, then plan B is we both ski back down to the Croisette and meet there. Just follow the signs for Courchevel 1850 – it’s well posted all the way.’
‘Maybe we should ski straight back down and go and check it’s not lying in the snow outside the hotel.’
‘Someone’ll find it if it is, darling. No one’s going to steal it, not at that lovely hotel.’
‘We’d better go back down, I need it. I have a couple of important calls to make this afternoon.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Sure, fine, we’ll ski fast!’
Five minutes later the cable car slowed right down, and a shadow loomed ahead. The car rocked from side to side, bumping against the buffered sides of the station, slowly sliding in, before stopping. Then the doors opened and they stepped out in their heavy ski boots, onto the gridded metal walkway.
They shuffled along it, then carefully down the steps and out into the ferocious blizzard, their faces stinging from snow as hard as hailstones. They could barely see a few feet in front of them, and the group ahead, ducking down and clipping into their boards, were little more than shadowy silhouettes.
As they stood beside a sign mostly obscured with snow, Walt laid their skis down on the ground, kicked the ice away from the bottom of his boots, tapping them with his ski poles to make extra sure there were no lumps of snow stuck there, then stepped into his bindings and snapped them shut.
As the silhouettes began to move away, Jodie said, ‘Hang on a sec, darling, I need to clean my visor.’
Walt waited, turning his face away from the wind as best he could, while Jodie tugged down one of her zippers, produced a tissue and wiped the inside of her visor, then the outside.
‘This is horrible!’ He had to shout to make his voice heard.
‘We’re almost at the highest point in the whole resort,’ she said. ‘As soon as we get off this ridge we’ll be out of the wind!’
‘I hope you’re right! Maybe we should start with something easy – is there a blue run back down? I don’t fancy anything too challenging in this goddam visibility!’
‘There is and it’s lovely. There’s one tiny steep bit to get into it, then it’ll be a glorious cruise. It’s my favourite run!’
He watched the last of the silhouettes disappearing as Jodie pulled her gloves back on, then stepped into her skis.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Uh-huh.’
She pointed to the right. ‘We go down here.’
‘Are you sure? Everyone else has gone that way.’ He pointed in the direction that the others who had been in the cable car with them had taken.
‘You want the hardcore black run down or a gentle blue?’
‘Blue!’ he said emphatically.
‘That crazy lot have all taken the black.’ She glanced over her shoulder and could just make out the cable car leaving the station for its return journey. It would be around fifteen minutes before the next load of skiers arrived. Right now, they were alone. ‘Blue?’ she said. ‘Are you sure? I’m sure you’d cope with the black.’
‘Not in this visibility.’
‘Then we go this way,’ she said.
‘I can’t see any sign pointing this way, hon. There must be a signpost up here, surely?’
With one ski pole, she began to brush away the fresh powder snow from the ground beside her. After a moment, tracks were revealed beneath it, frozen into the cruddy, icy surface beneath. ‘See?’ she said.
He peered at them. They led straight ahead for a couple of yards before disappearing into the swirling white blizzard. Looking relieved, he smiled. ‘Clever girl! I’ll follow you.’
‘No, you go first in case you fall over – I can help you up. Just follow the tracks. Bend your knees and brace yourself because the first fifty yards or so are a bit steep, then it levels out. Just let yourself go!’ She shot an anxious glance around her to make absolutely sure no one was watching.
‘OK!’ he said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. ‘Here goes! Yeee-ha!’
He launched himself forward on his poles, like a racer out of the gate, and whooped again. ‘Yeee-ha!’
Then his voice turned into a terrible scream. Just for one fleeting second before it was swallowed by the wind.
Then silence.
Jodie turned round, then pushing with her poles, headed off in the direction all the other skiers had taken, oblivious to the wind and the stinging snow on her cheeks.
Giveaway:
To be entered to win a print copy of LOVE ME DEAD, comment on this blog post with the title of the book you are currently reading.
(contest on 12/8/16 and US addresses only, please)
Sweet & Sassy Wedding Themed Book Spotlight with authors Margaret Brownley and Lynnette Austin
Today we welcome multi-published author Lynnette Austin and New York Times bestselling author Margaret Brownley. Brides and grooms are very much on their minds and for good reason; they both have new book releases featuring weddings. Here’s what they have to say about their favorite on-screen nuptials.
Why do you think wedding scenes are so popular?
Lynnette: We love the magic and the romance of weddings, the beginning of a couple’s happy-ever-after. There is laughter, tears, and drama as family members and friends who haven’t seen each other in ages come together. Absolutely anything can…and does…happen!
Margaret: Weddings are such happy occasions. They are all about new beginnings in life and happy endings in movies. Weddings can make us laugh, cry and give us hope.
What was the biggest challenge in writing the wedding scene?
Lynnette: Because my Magnolia Brides series centers on a wedding planner, a florist, and a baker, I had lots of weddings to create, which meant hours on end on Pinterest and Instagram, studying page after page of phenomenal ideas for the couples’ special day. I had to. It’s work, right? J I’ve set up my own pages for each of the series books, one for Tansy and Beck, for Sam and Cricket, and for Cole and Jenni Beth. I hope you’ll check them out!
Margaret: The biggest challenge for me is keeping the wedding fresh and entertaining. If I write a wedding scene you can be sure that things won’t go as expected.
We tend to think of weddings as happy occasions. Can you think of a wedding scene where either the bride or groom or both are not happy?
Lynnette: The Wedding Date. The best man is the bride’s sister’s ex-fiancé. (I know. Confusing.) Just before the wedding, Kat, the sister who’s there with a fake fiancé in the hopes of making the best man jealous, finds out her former fiancé broke up with her after sleeping with her sister, the bride. (And still more confusing!) When the groom finds out his best man has slept with his bride-to-be—well, let’s just say no one is very happy.
Margaret: I can tell you that my heroine in Left at the Altar was not a happy camper at either of her two weddings. As for the movies, the first unhappy bride that comes to mind is Scarlett O’ Hara and her wedding to Charles Hamilton. She wore her mother’s wedding dress and even that reflected her unhappiness since it was ill-fitting and out-of-date. She breaks down crying when Ashley, the man she really loves, congratulates her and pecks her on the cheek. I also think Elaine in The Graduate merits a mention. Of course she cheers up when the Dustin Hoffman character rescues her on her wedding day, but I’m not sure how long her happiness will last. It’s hard to overlook the fact that the man you love had an affair with your mother.
Thanks so much for joining us today! Now it’s your turn. What’s your favorite movie wedding and why?
Title: Left at the Altar
Series: A Match Made in Texas, #1
Author: Margaret Brownley
Pub Date: November 1, 2016
ISBN: 9781492608134
Welcome to Two-Time Texas:
Where tempers burn hot
Love runs deep
And a single marriage can unite a feuding town
…or tear it apart for good
In the wild and untamed West, time is set by the local jeweler…but Two-Time Texas has two: two feuding jewelers and two wildly conflicting time zones. Meg Lockwood’s marriage was supposed to unite the families and finally bring peace. But when she’s left at the altar by her no-good fiancé, Meg’s dreams of dragging her quarrelsome neighbors into a ceasefire are dashed.
No wedding bells? No one-time town.
Hired to defend the groom against a breach of promise lawsuit, Grant Garrison quickly realizes that the only thing worse than small-town trouble is falling for the jilted bride. But there’s something about Meg’s sweet smile and determined grit that draws him in…even as the whole crazy town seems set on keeping them apart.
Who knew being Left at the Altar could be such sweet, clean, madcap fun?
MARGARET BROWNLEY penned her first novel at age eleven and has been writing ever since. She’s now a New York Times and CBA bestselling author and has written thirty-five novels and one nonfiction book. Margaret and her husband have three grown children and make their home in Southern California.
Buy Links: Amazon | Books-A-Million | Barnes & Noble | Chapters | iBooks | Indiebound
Title: Picture Perfect Wedding
Series: Magnolia Brides, #3
Author: Lynnette Austin
Pub Date: November 1, 2016
ISBN: 9781492618034
Third in the heartfelt and charming Magnolia Brides series from Lynnette Austin
One mistake can change everything…forever
Beck Elliot and Tansy Calhoun were inseparable—until Tansy left Misty Bottoms, Georgia, promising to come back after she finished school. Beck stayed behind to save the family business, dreaming of the day when Tansy would return. Instead, his trust and his heart were broken when she inexplicably married another man and bore his child.
Five years later, Tansy comes home, a sadder and wiser woman. Despite his anger, Beck finds it hard to avoid her and her adorable little daughter—especially with all the busybodies of Misty Bottoms going out of their way to throw him and Tansy together, hoping a lingering spark will reignite their enduring flame…
LYNNETTE AUSTIN gave up the classroom to write full time. An author of eight novels, she has been a finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart Contest, PASIC’s Book of Your Heart Contest, and Georgia Romance Writers’ Maggie Contest. She and her husband divide their time between Southwest Florida’s beaches and Blairsville, GA.
Buy Links: Amazon | Books-A-Million | Barnes & Noble | Chapters | iBooks | Indiebound
Expect the Unexpected by L.M. Heidle…Spotlight
Expect the Unexpected
by L.M. Heidle
Publication Date: November 4, 2016
Genres: New Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon
I’d learned early that life was unpredictable. For some that made them stronger, but others it made them weaker. I was somewhere in the middle, teetering on the invisible line. Until I met him, and he shoved me off.
I couldn’t explain why I wanted her. I just knew she’d be mine, regardless of her past and mine. Even when they crossed in a way I could ‘t have predicted, my need for her never wavered.
If you can hold on through the rain you’ll learn some of the best moments in life are . . . unexpected.
***This is a college romance with a slight twist.
About L.M. Heidle
The Homecoming by Stacie Ramey…Book Spotlight
The Homecoming
By Stacie Ramey
November 1, 2016; Trade Paper, ISBN 9781492635888
Book Info:
Title: The Homecoming
Author: Stacie Ramey
Release Date: November 1, 2016
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire
Praise for The Homecoming
“The overall message of relying on family and friends for support is clear, and John’s pain and confusion are palpable… the male point of view distinguishes it in a field crowded with girls’ perspectives. VERDICT A solid addition to YA collections.”
– School Library Journal
“This engaging story will appeal to all readers and will help troubled teens realize that there can be help out there for what’s going on in their lives.”
– School Library Connection
“A stirring close-up of a family haunted by emotional trauma.”
– Kirkus
Summary:
Forced to return to his estranged family, John discovers how hard it is to truly go home.
It’s been a year since John lost his girlfriend, Leah, to suicide. Living with his uncle keeps his mind from the tragedy and his screwed up family—until he gets into trouble and a judge sends him back home. With a neglectful mother and abusive brother, John’s homecoming is far from happy.
As he tries to navigate and repair the relationships he abandoned years ago, Emily, the girl next door, is the only bright spot. She’s sweet and smart and makes him think his heart may finally be healing. But tragedy isn’t far away, and John must soon face an impossible decision: save his family or save himself.
Goodreads Link:http://ow.ly/P4ic305DLaM
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THE HOMECOMING
STACIE RAMEY
Chapter 1
Standing on the high school’s lacrosse field in the town I never thought I’d go back to, I wait for my turn to do suicides. The sun blazes, and I take a drink from my water bottle and try not to chew myself out for landing here instead of getting to stay in Chicago with Uncle Dave. What would Leah think if she saw me now?
“Strickland!” Coach calls. “Line up.”
It’s not my turn to run again, and the unfairness starts a flame in my stomach, but I line up anyway. No way I’m gonna let Coach see he’s getting to me. Or let the team know how out of shape I really am.
“Get your legs up!” Coach Gibson screams, and I think he’s talking to me, but I can’t be sure, because six of us are racing, and I’m losing. Bad. Guess the last few years of smoking weed hasn’t helped my stamina.
Matt, a guy from my neighborhood who I used to play lacrosse with and one of two people Mom fought like hell to keep me away from, yells from the sidelines, “Wheels, Strickland, wheels.” But he laughs as he says it, and I know he’s just giving me shit.
I knew they’d go hard on me. Payback for moving away. For not playing lacrosse since fifth grade. For hanging with the druggies instead of the jocks. I’m one of the new guys on the team. An honor not usually given to seniors. So I’m treated to Hell Week like the freshmen and sophomores. I don’t mind. That’s just the way it is.
Coach Gibson points to me. “Just Strickland this time.”
Bodies collapse around me, and I hear their sighs of relief as I crouch in the ready position, sweat pouring off my chest and arms and legs while I wait for Coach’s whistle to launch me like a bullet from a gun. I run from the end line to goal line. Goal line to end line. End line to box line. Box line to half field.
“Push, push, push,” Coach yells.
I do what he says, push my body. Pump my legs. It sucks, but I do it, because with each stride, I feel my body taking over and my mind being left far behind. Maybe this time, Dad was right. Lacrosse is just what I need.
“Again.” Coach points to me. He clicks his stopwatch, and I race again. He shakes his head as he documents my time. Like I don’t know how bad I suck. Like I don’t get how much persuading Dad must have had to do to get me on the team. Thinking of Dad fires me up to tap into my beast. I bend over. Try not to puke. Take a drink of my water and hit the line to run again.
I don’t actually mind this part. Whenever I run full out, push my body past its limit, those are the times I’m not thinking of Leah.
“Again.” I run my route one more time, my body failing a little more with each step. When I’m sure I’m going to fall to the ground, I make myself think of Leah. How I was supposed to save her. How I didn’t. And that’s enough to propel me forward. At the end of the run, I bend over, spit on the ground.
The other seniors and juniors start their Indian drill. They jog by us freshies, run their rhythmic jogging and even breathing, reminding me that they are warriors, and I am not. Matt yells out, “Damn, Strickland.” Then laughs as I lose this battle and puke on the ground.
Brandon, another guy from the old team, joins in the hilarity. “We got a puker!”
I look at each exercise as a brick in some mythical wall I have to build before I can earn my walking papers. That makes it easier to face. One step. One drill. One minute. One hour. One week. One month. More than one year since my girlfriend Leah died. (Killed herself, I remind myself, careful to make the memory hurt as much as possible.)
Probably thirty minutes left in practice. Nine weeks till my first report card. Nine months of probation, ten months till I can graduate and move on with my life to California. The farthest place from my family I can go without getting a passport. Where I can cash in on my one and only talent: growing and selling weed. Legally there.
Finally, Coach calls us in. The juniors and seniors have already been sent to the locker room ahead of us, so he’s only addressing us wannabes. “You guys didn’t totally disappoint me today, so tomorrow, you can bring your sticks.”
Some of the guys pump their fists. I don’t even have the energy to do that.
“Now hit the showers and head home.”
I’m turning to leave when Coach calls me over. “Hey, John, I wanted to say I’m sorry about your brother. And your girl.”
The dragon roars. Flames engulf me. People just can’t let an accident like Ryan’s go, even after all these years. But Leah? That’s too much. They didn’t even know her. I don’t want to share her tragedy, her life, her memory with anyone.
“You’ve had some tough breaks for sure.”
Dad and his stupid mouth.
Coach shifts his stance, crosses his arms—his clipboard with all my times now clutched to his chest. Numbers that for sure say I’m not good enough to be on any lacrosse team—definitely not the varsity team at East Coast High. “I don’t want you to get discouraged. Coach Stallworth told me about you. Said you used to be a hell of an athlete. You can be again, I’m sure.”
His stare feels like he’s trying to figure out what I’m made of. I want to tell him not to waste his time. I’m happy to tell him exactly who I am. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t mind taking whatever physical punishment he wants to dish out. But when it comes to my emotions? Coach is going to have to understand that that shit’s off-limits. Emotions are for idiots. Feeling crap doesn’t change what happened. Good weed works so much better. Hell, even bad weed beats feeling any day.
I gulp more water. Spit on the ground. Look him square in the eye. “Thanks, Coach. That all?”
I guess Coach picks up on my noncommunicative status, because his eyes go back to his clipboard. “See you tomorrow.”
I give him a nod and jog to the locker room so Coach’ll see I’ve still got a little juice in me, even after everything.
***
Last one in the locker room also means last one out. I sit on the bench, lean over to close my locker as Matt and Brandon head for the parking lot.
“Later,” Matt throws over his shoulder, the er reverberating as the door shuts behind him.
Matt and I’ve got some history to get over. It was his big brother, Pete, who hit Ryan. Seven years later and that still hangs between us. Not that it was Pete’s fault exactly. When it comes to those things, fault hardly even matters. It’s called an accident for a reason.
Besides, Pete hasn’t exactly gotten off scot-free either. Some people might think becoming a high school dropout, working pizza delivery while feeding a major drug and drinking problem is not as bad as Ryan’s deal, but I say that nobody has a right to judge. I stayed in touch with Pete even after I moved away. Nobody understands that, but it was like he was the only one who got the nuclear fallout of that accident.
I’m stuffing my sweaty clothes into my bag and zipping it up when I hear my cell chirp. I grab it, hoping it’s one of Pete’s connections I reached out to today. Someone who can help me with my little sobriety problem.
But it’s not Pete’s connection. It’s Uncle Dave. Hey, just checking in. Hope you’re settling in OK.
I text back. Yeah. Fine.
How was practice?
Somehow, that kills me. That he’s still checking on me. Uncle Dave. Not Dad or Mom. Him. This warm spot inside me lights a little every time he calls or texts.
He texts again. When someone you love dies, it changes you. Remember that.
He means Leah for me. My perfect big brother for Mom.
After Ryan’s accident, Mom didn’t change so much as reduce, like the sauce that Uncle Dave made for my filet the last night I was living with him. He explained how a little fire under you can intensify whatever’s inside you. After the accident, Mom got more intense for sure. Driven. Focused only on Ryan. With me, I just got more angry. Just the way I am, I guess.
Uncle Dave always tries to turn simple moments into lessons. Not preachy ones, just different ways to look at life. His texts aren’t meant to pry or annoy, but I can’t help wishing he hadn’t. I screwed up the best living arrangement of my life, the one Dad said I needed after I told him about Leah. But I killed the whole deal by hanging with a bunch of thugs and acting like a punk.
There’s a mass of activity around me in the locker room that doesn’t include me. Kids banging fists. Giving each other shit. Nodding when the others ask if they’ve got a ride. Then it hits me: I’m completely ride-less.
The guys on the team have picked up on my not so subtle I want to be left alone signal. I know teammates are supposed to male bond or some shit like that, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to finish probation. Live according to Mom’s rules. Then get out and go away. And never come back.
I text Uncle Dave. I’m exactly the same jerk I used to be.
He texts. Nice try.
As the door bangs shut for the last time, I realize my being a selfish ass and ignoring everyone means I’ll have to walk home. Great work, Johnny. I almost laugh out loud at what an idiot I can be.
The phone chirps again. This time it’s Dad. Picked up your Jeep from the compound. Cost me a fortune. Show me you’ve earned it and I’ll bring it to you.
Always pushing. Uncle Dave is so much cooler than Dad is that it’s hard to believe they’re even brothers.
The door opens, and a janitor leans in. “You done?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I look around the locker room one more time. I am completely alone, even on a team of thirty kids. Classic me.
Rafflecopter Giveaway Link for 2 Copies of The Homecoming
Runs November 6-November 18 (US & Canada only)
About the Author:
Stacie Ramey attended the University of Florida where she majored in communication sciences and Penn State where she received a Master of Science degree in speech pathology. She lives in Wellington, Florida, with her husband, three children, and two rescue dogs. Visitwww.stacieramey.com.
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Going Down Fast by Carly Phillips….Book Spotlight
Going Down Fast (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 2) by Carly Phillips
Date of Publication: October 11, 2016
Blurb
A stand-alone Billionaire Bad Boys novel.
Billionaire Bad Boys: Rich, Powerful and sexy as hell.
Lucas Monroe dropped out of college only to become a multi-billionaire and tech world God. He can have any woman he desires in his bed, but the only woman he’s ever wanted is off limits and always has been. When Maxie Sullivan finds herself in dire straits, the only man she can turn to is the one she’s always secretly loved: her childhood best friend. Can they trust their hearts and make a future, or will their complicated pasts stand in the way?
This bad boy is going down fast …
And going down fast has never felt so right.
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About Carly Phillips
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Tell Me Again by Michelle Major….Spotlight with excerpt & giveaway
About Tell Me Again
As a teenager, Samantha Carlton used a career in modeling to break free from her painful childhood—walking away from her reckless twin sister, an alcoholic mother, and the boy she loved. Yet she never outran the guilt of abandoning her family. When the past shows up on her doorstep in the form of her late sister’s daughter, Sam opens her home and her heart to the girl she never knew existed. But it’s not so easy to face the man she left behind…
Sam had shattered Trevor Kincaid’s heart, and he’d sought comfort in her sister’s arms. But he’d pledged to shield his daughter, Grace, from the drama that followed the Carlton women. Now Grace has tracked down Sam, and Trevor is forced to deal with the one woman he wanted to forget.
History has a way of repeating itself, and the sparks between Sam and Trevor reignite an old flame. But as much as Sam wants a new future, is walking away again easier than risking her heart for a second chance at love?
Excerpt:
Trevor’s hand settled over hers, squeezing gently.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It was a jackass thing to say, and I’m sorry.”
She didn’t pull away her hand, but she wouldn’t look at him, either. “Part of you believes it.”
“That’s not—”
“Part of me believes it,” she said with a harsh laugh, yanking on the latch and in doing so, shaking off his touch. “I may not want to hear it, but that doesn’t make it less true. It was another form of selling myself . . . my face . . . a promise of something that wasn’t real. And the way I acted supported it. God, the things she’s seen if she’s Googled me.”
She opened the door and stepped into the shed, wiping down the bow and placing it in its case on the shelf. The familiar movements settled her frayed nerves. When she turned, Trevor was blocking her way out.
He moved closer, crowding her, and then reached for her when she would have turned away again. “You’re real and you’re not the person you were before,” he said, cupping her face with his hands.
They were warm, the pads of his fingers slightly callused. Her eyes drifted closed as a thousand sparks buzzed along her skin, a tremor of awareness moving up and down her body, lighting the dormant fires of need and want she’d safely buried.
Nothing about Trevor was safe.
“Look at me, Sam.”
She did, meeting the intensity of his pale blue eyes. The golden slivers that ringed them seemed to glow with desire as he looked at her. Desire for her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You got out of that town. Away from your mother and all the bad shit that filled her world. You made a life for yourself, and I can’t fault you for that.”
“It could have been different for all of us. I wanted to take you with me. I wanted you and Bryce both to—”
“I know, honey.” He leaned in, brushed his mouth across hers. The touch was featherlight, and his lips were soft, completely at odds with the hard strength of the rest of him. His hands cradled her, making her feel cherished. The gentle pressure of his mouth made her feel wanted.
It was embarrassing how much she craved this wanting. Trevor was the only man who had ever expected her to be more than a pretty face. He saw her, and while it was terrifying to think she might come up lacking, it was also exhilarating.
Despite her fears and doubts, she deepened the kiss. She invited him in, shyly tangled her tongue with his. He moaned, and the sound was like a hundred gold stars for good behavior. It gave her confidence to press her body to his, to twine her fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
Not surprisingly, they fit together perfectly. In this way, they always had. His kiss turned demanding and Sam met each of his silent claims with a demand of her own. Desire swirled through her and when his hand skimmed down her neck to trace the hollow at the base of her throat, she sucked in a breath.
And wanted.
God, how she wanted.
More. Everything. To pretend like nothing else mattered except this moment.
But it did.
Sam couldn’t forget the past that had shaped her and the fact that he’d kept her from her sister’s child.
Gasping for air, she pulled away, pressing her fingers to lips that were swollen from Trevor’s kisses.
“We have to get back to Grace,” she said, ignoring the rough edge to her voice. The need still pulsing through her.
Trevor gave a small nod and placed his hands on his hips. His chest rose and fell in the same way hers did, and it was a slight comfort to know she wasn’t the only one struggling to regain control at this moment.
They were silent as they left the shed. Trevor shut the door and locked it but took Sam’s hand as they moved toward the path. The sky was beginning to streak with patterns of pink and gold. She felt suspended in this quiet corner of her property, the forest around them lending to the intimacy of the moment.
“I will apologize for a lot of things when it comes to you,” he said, lifting her knuckles to his mouth. “But not for kissing you.”
“We shouldn’t go there,” she whispered, even though she wanted to go there so badly it left a gaping hole in her heart.
“We’ll see about that,” he answered with a wry smile. “Getting my hands on you seems to be the only thing I’m clear about right now. ”
Top 5 Things You Need to Know About Trevor Kincaid
- He’s a contractor so you know he’s good with his hands.
- His daughter means the world to him. So much so that when she was little, he learned to braid hair and could throw a mean tea party.
- He thinks women are most beautiful with no makeup, preferably waking up in his bed.
- He can rock a pair of low slung jeans like nobody’s business.
- Trevor likes to believe he’s strong, but Sam Carlton may be his one weakness.
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About Michelle Major
Michelle Major grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in Journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at www.michellemajor.com.