Happy Release Day to Heidi Joy Trethway and Tyler & Stella! 

I am SO excited for this release!

My review will be up on Sunday but I have to say…I LOVED Tyler & Stella!

Book Links:

Kindle |  B&N  |  Print via Amazon  |  Createspace

Synopsis:

Stella Ramsey always says bad boys can’t break your heart. They don’t call, don’t cuddle and don’t send flowers—but what do you expect? For Stella, no strings means no regrets.

When the biggest story of her fledgling career as a music journalist nearly ruins her relationship with her best friend, Stella has one chance to redeem herself. Tyler Walsh could be that chance.

Stella promises the bassist for the rock band Tattoo Thief anything in exchange for behind-the-scenes access. But Tyler doesn’t want anything. He wants everything—and that’s more than Stella is prepared to give.

When Tyler’s explosive secret thrusts Stella into the media spotlight, she must choose between the selling the story and telling the truth—and exposing the truth about herself as well.

Tyler & Stella (Tattoo Thief #2) is a sizzling story of lust, lies, and sacrifice, revealing how much love can forgive.

Excerpt:

Setup: After selling a story that nearly ruins her relationship with her best friend, Stella has to make it right without risking her job as a music reporter. Tattoo Thief’s bassist, Tyler, offers Stella that chance—an exclusive interview in his loft, which doubles as the band’s practice space. But throughout the interview, Tyler’s teasing touches are as confusing as they are enticing.

I can’t tell whether we’re in the Friend Zone or if it’s something else. He keeps touching me, but it isn’t the lusty grope I’m expecting. He’s just … touching, and as he massages my feet, I find myself more and more attuned to his frequency.

I want him. I want to feel his hands on me beyond my feet—oh, God, does he have a foot fetish? But then, would that mean he’s into me?

My resolve to keep this journalist-to-musician interview platonic has drowned in vodka and I’m sure I have enough notes to form a cohesive story tomorrow.

I pull my feet from Tyler’s hands and scoot on my knees over to where Tyler sits on the couch.

“That felt fantastic,” I purr, and I throw one knee across his lap to straddle him. My dress stretches higher on my thighs and I plant my hands on his shoulders. Tyler stills and I try to read his expression. “I don’t want you to stop.”

I don’t just mean the foot rub. I stretch my neck forward to bring my face close to his and I hear his breathing shallow. I know I have an effect on him and I move even more slowly, savoring it.

But why isn’t he responding? Instead of running his hands up the back of my thighs or grabbing my ass, his hands are still on the couch, motionless on either side of my legs.

I ignore Tyler’s hesitation and bring my lips closer to his, smelling a little beer and maybe basil from our dinner. The tip of my nose touches his cheek and I pivot my mouth, reaching for his lips. They’re soft and yielding.

I press deeper into him, my tongue teasing the corners of his mouth, my breasts pressed to his chest. I hear a noise from his throat, maybe a groan, but he hesitates. I buck my hips and that’s the last straw—his hands are suddenly on me, sliding across my back and around my waist as he pulls me into a breathless kiss.

His lips are hot and hard on mine and I want to drink him in, devour him. But in the next moment, his hands have changed course and he’s pulling me away from his mouth.

Wait—what?

“Stella. Hang on here.”

I can see Tyler fighting for control and I’m struggling to breathe normally too. I’m in his lap, his arms were around me and I can feel his erection pressing against my very damp panties.

He shouldn’t be pushing pause right now when every sign points to play. Or fast forward! Even slow-mo, if that’s his style. But pause?

“Stop,” he commands. My hips are still moving against him of their own free will.

Oh, God. Stop. That’s the kiss of death.

“Seriously? Stop?” My face is flaming with humiliation and I climb off Tyler’s lap and grab my shoes, trying to shove them on my feet as fast as possible. “Whatever you say, Tyler. At least you made up your mind. You’ve been sending mixed signals all night.”

My voice says I’m angry with him, but I’m really just mad at myself. First I decided to keep it professional, just do the story after he’d offered me access. Then his touch lights me on fire and I throw that very sane plan out the window. Then I have two or three more shots to further fuck with my resolve.

And then, the foot rub. Tyler has a secret weapon.

So I’m angry because Tyler pushed me past my limits, even though I was the one who climbed into his lap. I started that kiss and he ended it. That should tell you everything you need to know, and it should tell me to leave him the hell alone.

Tyler’s face darkens and he’s mad that I’m mad.

“Mixed signals? I was giving you what you wanted, your story, so that you wouldn’t try to dig into Beryl and Gavin’s life and get something else on them. Something ugly.”

Tyler’s statement hits me like a slap in the face. “Is that what you think I’m about?” I hear my voice rise. “That I’m going to throw my best friend under the bus again?”

Tyler’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “You said it yourself: again. I did what I thought I should do to protect Gavin.”

My jaw goes slack, realizing Tyler was playing me to give me the story he wanted me to write, rather than the truth.

I stalk to the kitchen to grab my purse as angry tears slide down my face. That asshole really had me going. I turn to look at Tyler, who’s still seated on the couch, his hands buried in his hair.

“Have a nice life, Tyler,” I say, and I wish I could say something more cutting to make up for how embarrassed I feel. “I’d say it’s been fun, but I’d be lying.”

My trip down five flights of stairs is slow and painful as I limp in my stupid shoes and cling to the handrail. I snort up the snot in my nose from crying—I’m looking super attractive right now with a night’s worth of mascara sliding down my cheeks.

Damn him. I’ve been in plenty of compromising situations after getting frisky with a bad boy, but I can’t remember one quite so humiliating. I can’t remember a time when a bad boy turned me down.

He played me.

That’s the thought that sticks in my brain. I always say, “A bad boy can’t break your heart,” because with them, you’ve got no expectations. You don’t expect roses. You don’t expect to be wooed or complimented or spooned. You don’t expect to be called the next day or taken home to mother.

And that’s what kills me about Tyler. I assumed he was a bad boy, with his tattoos and devil-may-care rocker attitude. But then, somewhere along the line, I started to think he was good.

And it bit me in the ass.

Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the author:

Heidi Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that up.

Heidi’s obsessed with storytelling. Her career includes marketing, journalism, and a delicious few years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is exactly what the rock star intends.

You’ll most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids cooking, fishing, exploring the Northwest, and building epic forts in their living room.

She loves to hear from readers via messages at facebook.com/author.heidi.

Blog  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Author Goodreads  |  Tyler & Stella Goodreads

My uncle abused me.

I was 10 years old when it started.

At 13 he told me I was no longer wanted because I had started to develop.

At 16 I was ready to kill him.

Today, I’m broken.

Today, I only breathe to survive.

My name’s Sergeant Major Ryan Jenkins and today, I’m ready to tell you my story.

“Master would flog me if I did, she won’t be happy when I tell her what happened here.”

“Master?”

“Stella.”

Oh, Master.

I do as I’m asked and close my eyes as I anticipate her heavenly touch.
She brings her hands up to start washing my torso and I let a huge expulsion of air out of my lungs, I didn’t even realize I was holding it in.
I concentrate on her hands as they slowly rub circular motions all over my body. When she gets to my thighs, my chest rumbles and lets out a low deep moan.
The way her hands are caressing and grazing over my body with the lightest of touches is sending my own feelings of lust into overdrive.
“Hmmm,” I moan again as her fingertips brush against my cock.
“I know, babe,” Stella says as she captures my mouth in hers. She nips on my top lip but her tongue doesn’t come out to greet mine.
This kiss is different to all the others she’s given me.
This one simple act conveys volumes without saying a single fucking word. Stella and I both feel the same thing. I know that I’m more than just her submissive and she’s more than just my Domme.
“You found me when I was lost,” I murmur against her lips.
“Together, we’ll find your way.”

Yes, Master is ON SALE for only 99 PENNIES!!!

** AMAZON US * AMAZON UK * AMAZON AUS **

I don’t do ‘normal’.

I’ve found that the more I write, the more I like being different to other authors. I write in first person, and I love to challenge a reader.
I take the normal and switch it around.
For me, I really enjoy getting a reaction from a reader. So if I can evoke an emotion (regardless of if it’s the emotion the reader wants) then I figure that I’ve done my job as an author I want to be.
I really quite revel in taking people out of their comfort zones and pushing them to read something different.
My genre of writing is, well quite frankly, where ever my mind goes. I won’t label myself because I don’t like sticking to one genre.
My goal with writing is just to take people away from whatever is going on in their lives, even if it’s only for a split second.
I’m a go with the flow sort of person and don’t really take a course of action to get where I am going. I live in the moment and don’t usually worry about tomorrow because whatever life is due to bring me, I’ll be happy to accept.
I love my family and friends and will help anyway I can if someone needs it. I really don’t like people that are nasty just because they can be, I don’t believe that’s necessary, I mean life’s hard enough as it is!
I hope you enjoy my books, I’ve had a hoot writing them. There’s more to come…..
Til next time.

M xx

** Visit Margaret on FACEBOOK **

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Book links:

Amazon  ~  Goodreads

Synopsis:

What if all the legends you’ve learned were wrong?

Brutally attacked by one god and unfairly cursed by another she faithfully served, Medusa has spent the last two thousand years living out her punishment on an enchanted isle in the Aegean Sea. A far cry from the monster legends depict, she’s spent her time educating herself, gardening, and desperately trying to frighten away adventure seekers who occasionally end up, much to her dismay, as statues when they manage to catch her off guard. As time marches on without her, Medusa wishes for nothing more than to be given a second chance at a life stolen away at far too young an age.

But then comes a day when Hermes, one of the few friends she still has and the only deity she trusts, petitions the rest of the gods and goddesses to reverse the curse. Thus begins a journey toward healing and redemption, of reclaiming a life after tragedy, and of just how powerful friendship and love can be—because sometimes, you have to sink in the deep end of the sea before you can rise back up again.

Excerpt:

“Where are Hades and Persephone?” I ask, glancing around the empty living room. They are nowhere to be seen tonight; neither are any of the Automatons.

The corner of Hermes’ mouth quirks. “Out. Possibly in the Underworld. One never knows with those two.”

Relief unfurls in the muscles in my shoulders. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Without saying goodbye?”

He’s definitely amused. “Shall I fetch them for you?”

“No!” My answer is too quick, which I fear broadcasts just how ecstatic I am at the thought of being along with Hermes right now. And that realization causes me to blush for the millionth time around him in the last month, so I clarify, “Of course not. I was just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” To my delight, his hand finds mine and our fingers intertwine. It is a delicious sensation: his hand, warm and worn in mine in just such a way that feels like it’s an extension of my body.

It must be criminal to adore touching someone so much.

“Did it, though?” I ask, and he laughs a burst of exasperated air.

“Possibly, but then again, who am I to judge, when I am often struck by curiosity that I cannot help but sate?” He gives me that dazzling grin of his and pulls me through the house. “Case in point: you.”

“Me?” I squeak unattractively. There are lights ahead through the French doors leading to the patio, and I am curious myself enough to wonder what they are, but not nearly as much as I am for what he might mean.

“Yes, you.” He glances back at me. “I’ve never told you that I was overcome with curiosity when I heard Athena cursed some girl from one of her temples. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d gone vindictively bonkers, but she was really put out over you. I mean . . . one of her followers? Even that was low for her.” His fingers squeeze mine gently and we stop about twenty feet from the doors. “When I first showed up on your island . . .”

I am helpless at looking anywhere but in his eyes. Tonight, they’re green. Vivid, beautiful, clear green. “Yes?”

“I’d been warned that you were a monster and that I best keep my distance. That you would slay me at the slightest provocation, and naturally, I believed it, as I could not blame anyone’s hatred toward my family after what my sister and uncle had done to you. But once Death handed me that first soul and departed, I heard you crying. My curiosity inflamed tenfold. What kind of so-called monster weeps like her heart had shattered and never would form whole again?”

Like clockwork, my cheeks burn. His fingers brush my reddened skin ever so gently before I turn my face to rest in his hand. The butterflies in my chest swarm frantically. “My sister misjudged you. I knew that the very second I heard your anguish. I’m afraid I was lost to you from that moment on. I had to discover all that made you you, even if I would suffer the same fate as the proverbial cat. And I never cared about the risks, as long as my curiosity about you was sated first.”

“Truly?” The word barely escapes my lips.

His eyes are so intense. “Truly.”

Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the author:

Heather Lyons has always had a thing for words—She’s been writing stories since she was a kid. In addition to writing, she’s also been an archaeologist and a teacher. Heather is a rabid music fan, as evidenced by her (mostly) music-centric blog, and she’s married to an even larger music snob. They’re happily raising three kids who are mini music fiends who love to read and be read to.

 Website: http://www.heatherlyons.net

Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/heatherlyons

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