Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway…..Tempt Me Eternally by Gena Showalter

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Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an Ecopy of that title!

Tempt Me Eternally - cover

Tempt Me Eternally

by

Gena Showalter

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature TEMPT ME ETERNALLY by Gena Showalter!
We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of TEMPT ME ETERNALLY!
Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

SUMMARY:

The huntress becomes the hunted in this sizzling paranormal romance from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Gena Showalter, previously published as part of the Deep Kiss of Winter anthology with #1 New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole, now available as a stand-alone ebook!

With only skin-to-skin contact, Aleaha Love can change her appearance, assuming any identity. As an AIR (Alien Investigation and Removal) agent, her newest mission is to capture a group of otherworldly warriors. So imagine her surprise when the hunter becomes the hunted, and she’s taken captive by dangerously seductive Breean, a golden-skinned, iron-willed commander, who threatens everything Aleaha stands for—and makes her want to be only herself, for the first time in her life.

 

EXCERPT:

They were coming.

 

Warriors unlike any other. Monsters of unimaginable power. Otherworlders. Fierce creatures with the ability to look inside your soul, glimpse your greatest fear, and present it to you with an unrepentant smile.

 

Should’ve stayed home, Aleaha Love thought. ’Cause we’re gonna get spanked. Hard. And not in a good way. Instead, she’d answered her cell and her captain’s call to action, and now found herself crouched in the middle of a gnarled forest, staring into a snow-laden clearing, moonlight shooting bright amber rays in every direction as flakes wafted in the breeze like fairy dust.

 

Though she wore white from head to toe, had a pyre-gun stretched forward, and was burrowed in a drift as cover, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. And yeah, damn cold.

 

What in the hell did I get myself into?

 

“Everyone in position?” a voice whispered from her headset.

 

A whisper, yeah, but it startled her. She managed to cut off a yelp, but couldn’t stop tremors from sweeping through her. Steady. She’d never hear the end of it if she accidentally fired her weapon before the fight had even begun.

 

“Premature weapon ejaculation,” they’d say with a chuckle, and she wouldn’t be able to deny it.

 

One by one, twenty teammates uttered their assent. They had wicked cool nicknames like Hawk Eye and Ghost. Her turn, she said, “Lollipop, in place.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Dress her up and watch her play bad alien, delicious cop,” the boys had laughed before giving her the stupid moniker her first day on the job. “Naughty lawbreakers will want to taste her, not outrun her.”

 

That had been, what? Five weeks ago, she realized with a jolt. Oh, how life had changed since then. From hiding in the shadows, afraid of what she was, to working cases with New Chicago’s elite team of smart-asses, content with her somewhat pampered existence. A pampered existence she didn’t deserve and hadn’t earned, but whatever. No guilt for her. Really.

 

“Need someone to snuggle against, Lolli?” a quiet, amused male voice asked. Devyn, supposedly a king of some sort and a self-proclaimed collector of women. He wasn’t really a member of Alien Investigation and Removal but was a special contractor, as well as the man who’d once wired her gun to blow bubbles rather than fire at target practice.

 

Word on the street, he was more powerful than God and deadlier than the devil, though no one would tell her outright what he could do. He was an otherworlder, that much she knew. That, and most of AIR’s flunkies kept their distance from him. They feared him, which only heightened Aleaha’s need to keep her own secrets.

 

She, too, was different.

 

She didn’t know whether she was human or alien. Or both. She didn’t know whether there were others like her or not. She didn’t know who her parents were or why they’d abandoned her on the dirty streets of the Southern District—a.k.a Whore’s Corner—of New Chicago, and she didn’t care. Not anymore. All she knew was that she could assume anyone’s identity with only a touch. That person’s face became hers; their height became hers; their body became hers.

 

For years, she’d lived in fear of being found out, of being hunted and tortured for her unnatural ability, afraid that everyone who looked at her saw the truth and knew she wasn’t who she claimed to be. But she couldn’t drop the mask. As herself, she was wanted for theft, assault against a police officer, and more theft. And then maybe kinda sorta murder. Not that she was culpable. He’d deserved it.

 

She’d rather lose a limb than spend any more time in jail.

 

Her fear of discovery was waning, though, and she was settling comfortably into her newest life as Macy Briggs. Maybe one day I’ll even be worthy of it. Again, not that she felt guilty. Really.

 

But with Christmas only a few weeks away . . . ugh. Worst. Holiday. Ever. Her “friends” would bake Macy’s favorite foods, not Aleaha’s. They would give her gifts meant for Macy, and reminisce fondly about good ole days she knew nothing about, and she would have to smile through every minute of it. And yeah, okay. Fine. Then she would feel guilty.

 

“What, ignoring me?” Devyn said with another of those snarky laughs. “Wasn’t like I was going to ask to feel you up or anything. I mean, I was just gonna surprise you with my handsiness.”

 

God, she was on the job, yet she’d lost track of her thoughts. Mortifying. “Can you take nothing

seriously?”

 

“Hello, have you met me? I take making out very seriously.”

 

All the men on the line snorted in their attempts to muffle their laughter. They might be wary of him, but they couldn’t help but enjoy his perverted sense of humor.

 

“Fuck you, Chuckles,” she said, trying not to reveal her amusement. Irreverent bastard.

 

“Excellent. We’re on the same page, because that’s exactly what I’m trying to do to you.”

 

Give herself to Devyn? Not in this lifetime, and not because he wasn’t attractive. If anything, he was too attractive. Hell, he was total screw-like-ananimal perfection. Tall, with dark hair, wide amber eyes, and skin that glittered like a jewel; there was no one else like him. There was a recipe for his smile, though: wicked desire dipped in acid, wrapped in steel and sprinkled with candy. The recipe for his laughter? Well, that was wicked desire tossed in the gutter, wrung out in a whorehouse, and slathered with scented body lotion. Women threw themselves at him constantly, and he ate it up like they were his own personal smorgasbord.

 

They probably were. Thank God she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. Or, rather, a lover, since that’s all someone as fickle as Devyn could ever amount to. Macy—the real Macy—had been dating a piece of scum Aleaha was still trying to lose and she didn’t have the time or patience to throw anyone else into the mix.

 

“Temper, temper,” Jaxon Tremain chided. He was one of two agents who hung out with the sexy otherworlder, and the resident smoother. There was something unnaturally calming about his presence, as if he could slink inside a person’s psyche and wash away her fears. “Would you kiss me with that mouth?”

 

“Funny,” she said dryly.

 

She could hear the others chortling and snorting with more surprised amusement. Someone said,

“Soliciting kisses from women, Jaxon? Mishka will kill you for that.”

 

“If by kill you mean seduce, then yeah,” Jaxon replied. “You’re right.”

 

Mishka was Jaxon’s wife and a hired killer who possessed a robotic arm. Aleaha had only seen her once, but that had been enough to scare ten years off her life. Never had she seen eyes so cold or heard a voice so uncaring. Of course, the moment Mishka spied Jaxon, her entire demeanor had changed. So had Jaxon’s, for that matter. Usually he was as con- servative as a priest. One glance at Mishka, though, and he’d morphed into gutter man.

 

Aleaha had marveled at the change in him, a change she was witnessing once again. Empathetic as he was, perhaps he was veering onto the perverted track now to get her mind off the bloody massacre sure to begin. Apparently, though, she didn’t need help today. She couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. What was wrong with her?

 

“Well,” Devyn said, drawing the spotlight back to him. As always. “Be a good lollipop and answer the man. Will you kiss him or not?”

 

“I could give you a list of all the things I’ll never do to you with my mouth,” she muttered. “How ’bout that?”

 

Devyn laughed, and, yep. It was wicked desire. “She reminds me of Mia when she talks like that. Tell us, Lolli, is that list for everyone or just Jaxon?”

 

“All right, team,” Mia Snow herself interjected before Aleaha could reply. “Save it. You know I only want you to stun these men. Do not burn them. I repeat, do not burn them. An open wound will bleed and that will spread their infection. And believe me, I will kill every single one of you myself if that happens.”

 

There was a moment of frightening silence. Infection. What a delightful reminder. Not only were the warriors coming here vicious, there was a possibility that they were bringing the plague with them.

 

“Good,” Mia continued. “I’ve got your attention. Solar flare approaching in ten.” She was inside a van about a mile away, watching the action on a night- vision monitor with a handful of backup agents. “Nine.”

 

Aleaha tensed. A few months ago, a big case had busted wide open and AIR had learned that otherworlders were traveling to Earth through interworld wormholes that initiated with solar flares. Then, a few weeks after that, another case had come to light. Members of a race of aliens known as the Schön had descended, their bodies carriers of a virus that passed to humans through their blood and ejaculate. This virus turned men and women into cannibals. Their queen—or living host of this sickness—was on her way here, due to arrive in the near future.

 

Tonight, ten members of her horde were supposed to utilize one of those wormholes. Their purpose: to smooth the way for her. Which meant, destroying AIR.

 

“Six.”

 

Shit. The countdown. Despite the frigid temperatures, sweat beaded on Aleaha’s brow, dripping from the brim of the white cap she wore. Stay calm. You have to stay calm.

 

“Five.”

 

Though her résumé claimed she’d worked as a cop for more than two years, this was actually Aleaha’s first mission.

 

What seemed forever ago but had only been a few months, she’d stumbled upon the body of a woman who’d been raped and killed in a back alley—a woman she’d recognized as Miss New Chicago’s Finest in Uniform calendar girl, Macy Briggs.

 

She’d almost walked away. The higher the public profile, the more scrutiny she received. But . . .

 

Already tired of the adult-toy-store clerk identity she’d previously stolen, Aleaha had seized the chance to better herself, hiding the body and shifting so that she was an exact match to Macy’s appearance, thereby claiming the woman’s life as her own.

 

Only later had she learned that Macy had applied to AIR and been accepted. To back out would have looked suspicious and changing identities yet again hadn’t appealed. So she’d done it. She’d attended that first day, then the next. And the next. They’d watched her suspiciously, as if they knew the truth, but they had never accused her and she’d realized she was probably paranoid. Soon they’d even relaxed, accepting her as one of their own. Now, here she was, done with trials and on mission one.

 

“—was actually your warm-up,” Mia said, cutting into her thoughts. “Ten. Nine.”

 

Shit. She’d missed the end of the first countdown? She was practically begging to be killed tonight.

 

“Seven. Six.”

 

Oh, God. What if she did, in fact, die out here? What if she lost everything she’d worked so hard to gain? Her gun hand shook. You have to stay calm, damn it.

 

With bouts of extreme emotion, she shifted from one identity to another without any control. “Four. Remember, guns set to stun and only stun.”

 

Her pyre-gun was already dialed to the proper setting, so she curled her index finger around the trigger and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Breathe in, breathe out. You do know how to fire a weapon, at least. A skill she’d learned from her only true friend, Bride McKells. A vampire, and her champion. They’d been separated more than a decade ago, chased apart by cops who’d caught them breaking into homes for food, and Aleaha hadn’t been able to find her since. She’d never stop looking, though.

 

“One.”

 

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXO After Dark:

http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/08/12/pocket-star-e-nights-tempt-eternally-gena-showalter/?mcd=z_140825_ShowalterTemptMe_PSEN

 

Don’t forget to leave a blog post comment….
Thanks for stopping by!

 

 

 

Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway…Try Me On For Size by Stephanie Haefner

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Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title!

TRY ME ON FOR SIZE - cover

Try Me On For Size

by Stephanie Haefner

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature TRY ME ON FOR SIZE by Stephanie Haefner!
We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of TRY ME ON FOR SIZE!
Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

SUMMARY:

A sexy, laugh-out-loud love story about a woman trying to save her failing lingerie business with a new product—“personal massagers” made to the specs of the spokesman of her choice! But when she falls for the first model she meets, how can she prove she’s his perfect fit?

With their business in trouble, Mia and Bryn must pull out all the stops to save their shop. Things get sticky when Mia, owner ofClassy ‘n’ Sassy Lingerie, has to go on five blind “dates” to find the right model for the big marketing plan that will save the store. But they aren’t your ordinary blind dates. Mia has to test out the “goods” to find the perfect spokespenis—the model for Classy ‘n’ Sassy’s newest line of lifelike dildos.

Not realizing Mia is on a mission, Oliver Christensen approaches her in a bar and Mia mistakes him for model #1. Oliver decides to play along. But just how far is he willing to take this charade in order to get closer to Mia? And what happens if Mia’s Blind Date #1 turns out to be The One?

EXCERPT:

“We need a new product,” Bryn said, finally adding to the conversation. “Something different.”;

“Different how? Like shapers or something? Those are all the rage.”;

“No. I mean really different.” Bryn stood. “We built this business by catering to two kinds of women and their significant others. The ones who like simple and classic bras and panties, and the ones who want something sexier, edgier. We have something to spark the interest of every lover, no matter what his or her tastes are, from beige cotton to red lace. But what about the women who don’t have a man? Or don’t want one?”;

“Uh, you kinda lost me,” Mia said.

“Look, I no longer have a husband. And at this point in my life, I honestly have no desire to replace him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss a certain part of his anatomy every so often, if you know what I mean. Without giving all the dirty details, I have, on occasion, partaken in some . . . selfpleasuring. And so far it hasn’t been all that orgasmic. It’s hard as hell ordering things online. The products are never how they’re described. And it’s not like people love going to their local porn shop. So why don’t we give our customers the opportunity to shop for these beloved intimate accessories in a friendly, comfortable environment?”’

“You want to sell vibrators?” Penny asked.

“Well, yes. And other things. But I only want to carry products we know are good.”;

“You volunteering to test them out before stocking them?” Mia asked.

“Why not? Our customers have always come to us for quality products and solid advice. That’s what sets us apart! And for this new venture, I want our customers to trust us in helping them satisfy this . . . need.”;

Penny jumped in with her thoughts. “We can throw a launch party for the line. Keeping it classy, of course, and show women it’s okay to own these types of things.”;

The wheels in Mia’s head began spinning, too. They needed something big if they were going to survive. A line of tried-and-true toys wasn’t enough. They had to offer their customers something exclusive.

“We need something special. Something women can’t get everywhere else.”;

“Like what?”;

Mia remembered an ad she’d seen in the back of a lingerie catalog. A do-it-yourself dildo mold. Any woman could make a rubber replica of her man’s junk to use when he was away.

“How about selling those custom dildo-making kits? Couples can take them home and make it together.”;

“That’s good. I think you’re on the right track.” Bryn’s brow furrowed as she walked to the window. “But how many women out there are like me and don’t have a model at home to mold?”;

“So, maybe we can find guys to mold. Like have a catalogue of penises or something?”;

Bryn spun around, smile wide, eyes all glittery like the new bra-and-panty sets that came in the week before. “No. Just one penis. One guy to be our signature penis. A spokespenis!”;

“Oh, I like it!” Penny said. “He can make appearances at the store. Women can buy his replica and get his autograph.”;

“Yes. Exactly! A hot guy women can meet and have a face to take home with the toy. They can chat with him, flirt, take pictures.”;

“I don’t know,” Mia said, needing to add her thoughts to the conversation. “Is this really what we want for the store? I don’t want to change the reputation we’ve built. We shouldn’t cheapen it, ya know?”;

Bryn shook her head. “No. I think women will love it. And if you ask me, it’s time for a change. We need something big if we’re gonna survive. Yeah, it’s a risk, but anything we do now is a risk, including sticking to the same formula we’ve used for eight years.”;

She had a point. “Okay. It’s worth a shot. But if we’re gonna do this, we do it right. And by that I mean interviewing legitimate models. I don’t want some random guy who’ll get off on having his penis cloned.”;

“No. We’ll have a strict screening process, including references, drug testing . . . STD testing.”;

“Yep. All that.” Mia made some notes on her pad. Whoa. Back up. “STD testing? Why would we need that?”;

“Well, like I said. We need to test the toys before we sell them. And I’m not going to mold random penises that aren’t any good.”;

“How are we gonna test that?”;

Mia knew that glint in Bryn’s eyes. And she was not going to like the answer.

“By using it before it’s molded.”;

No. No, she couldn’t mean that.

“Someone needs to have sex with the models to make sure their member is adequate.”;

“Why? Can’t we tell that just by looking at it?”;

“No. Different girths and lengths have different feels. You can’t know how it will feel by just looking, or even touching them with your hand. Only a real live vagina can get the data we need to do this right. We need someone who can do this objectively and make an informed decision. And
since Penny is married and Grant can’t do it, that only leaves . . .”;

Bryn eyed Mia, the mischievous grin back.

“Oh, no. What about you, Miss Sassy? You’re the one who said the penises need to be tested.”;

“I can test the already-made toys. I can’t test the models.”;

“Sure you can.”;

The smile faded from Bryn’s face. “You know I’m not ready.”;

“Well, I am not having sex with random strangers.”;

“They wouldn’t be random. They’d be thoroughly screened. I can call legitimate modeling agencies and tell them what we’re looking for. We’ll send them for full health screenings. We’ll select guys for the final round and then you’ll have sex with them. But not real sex. Just test it out and see how it feels from different angles. Make sure it’s thick enough, long enough. Not bent or anything funky.”;

“Are we seriously having this conversation?”;

Penny sat there, giggling. “I think it’s brilliant.”;

“No. I’m not doing it. End of discussion. There has to be another way.”;

But it wasn’t the end of the discussion. And there wasn’t another way that would get them the exact data they needed.

This venture couldn’t fail. It had to be done without error.

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXOAfterDark:
http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/08/05/pocket-star-e-nights-size-stephanie-haefner/?mcd=z_140818_XOXO_PSN_TMOFS

Don’t forget to leave a blog post comment….
Thanks for stopping by!

Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway….CRACKS IN THE ARMOR by Helena Hunting

Star-E-Nights-Banner - graphic-2

 

Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title!

Cracks in the Armor - cover

Cracks in the Armor

by Helena Hunting

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature CRACKS IN THE ARMOR by Helena Hunting!
We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of Cracks in the Armor!
Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

SUMMARY:
Chris, a sexy tattoo artist, tries to win the heart of Sarah, a grad student with little interest in him, in this second e-short and follow-up to Helena Hunting’s gripping love story, Clipped Wings—“twisted, dark, incredibly erotic…a love story like no other” (USA TODAY bestselling author Alice Clayton).

Part owner of the Chicago tattoo shop Inked Armor, Chris Zelter is a talented artist who decorates skin with gorgeous designs. He might look the part of the typical jacked-up, inked-up bad-boy, but underneath is a fiercely loyal, complicated man. Kicked out at sixteen, Chris has had to fend for himself for the last twelve years, making his Inked Armor crew as much family as they are business partners. For him, it’s enough—until he meets Sarah Adamson.

A grad student waitressing at the local strip club, Sarah is used to propositions and crude comments. The job is a means to an end—finish her MBA, pay off the tuition loans, and get a good job. Then she won’t have to rely on anyone to take care of her. So when brawny, tatted up Chris begins hanging out at the club, she rebuffs his advances. At first. But Chris isn’t like her usual clientele: despite his hard exterior, he’s almost…sweet. 

Sometimes, the people with the roughest edges have the biggest hearts.

EXCERPT:
At the end of my shift I changed out of my slut attire and back into my jeans and T-shirt, then headed out the back door. The security guard had changed. He was one of the ones I didn’t know. Or trust.

He gave me a sidelong glance. “You want me to walk you to your car?”

“I’m right there.” I pointed to my Tercel.

His eyes narrowed. “That’s your ride?”

It wasn’t much of a ride, compared to some of the flashy cars parked out here. The girls who performed the best also got the best perks, leased cars being one of them. I was perfectly happy not to be among the privileged few. “Yeah. Have a good night.”

“I think I should walk you over.”

I was parked under one of the lights. If he was looking for a little end-of-night action, it wasn’t the most covert place to have it happen. He must have read the skepticism in my expression.

“One of the guys on camera detail warned me that some dude was out here fucking around by the cars. It was during shift change, so there wasn’t anyone here. I’d feel better if you let me check things out.”

I glanced nervously at my car and shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.”

I trailed behind him as he stalked across the lot. He walked around the vehicle, looking for . . . signs of forced entry maybe? When he didn’t find anything sinister, I pulled on the handle to find that it was locked.

“Huh, that’s odd.”

His shoulders rolled back and his eyes shot around the dark lot. “What?” His hand went behind him, as if he was getting ready to go for a piece. It wasn’t the first time I suspected the security was armed with more than brass knuckles and walkies.

“I don’t lock my doors.”

“What?” He looked at me like I was crazy.

“Do you see this?” I gestured to the Tercel and then motioned around the lot. “Of all the cars here, who would choose mine to steal?” I peered into the backseat. All the doors had been locked. Only one person would do that.

I rummaged around in my purse until I found my keys. After unlocking the door, I bent down and felt around under the front seat until my fingers closed around a keychain. I bit my lip to stop the stupid grin from breaking out. Though it would be more convenient to have my own key, there was satisfaction in knowing he’d drop one off for me because he wanted to see me. “It’s cool. My b— friend was just leaving me a key.” I almost stumbled over the word.

“Next time, tell your friend to leave it with one of us instead of sneaking around back here. We’ll get it to you.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Chris would never leave his key with one of these beefcakes. I slid into the driver’s seat and let the bouncer shut my door. He waited until I pulled out of the spot before he ambled back to his post. He was a lot nicer than some of the other guys who worked for Xander, surprisingly.

I checked my phone at the first red light. There were several texts from Chris—the most recent were admonishments for not locking my doors. The ones before and after contained an invitation to stay the night and a message about the key he left under the driver’s seat. Tonight hadn’t been bad, so I wasn’t about to pass up the offer. I was glad I’d packed an overnight bag, as I always did.

I pulled into the parking spot reserved for Chris’s bike. He’d angled it at the top of the space so there would be enough room for my car. He was always thoughtful like that. It made me feel like a bitch for not inviting him over to my place more often, where parking wasn’t an issue.

It had been too long since I’d spent any real time with him. I didn’t like how much that bothered me, or how excited I’d been about the text and key. That I constantly packed a bag in advance was a red flag I chose to ignore.

I was quiet as I made the trek up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door. The light above the ancient, avocado-green stove was on, casting a pale glow over the dated kitchen. There was a note propped up on the counter with my name written across the front in Chris’s elegant cursive. I always teased him that he wrote like a girl.

I set my bag down quietly, though a bomb could go off and Chris would sleep right through it. I left my shoes on, because Chris insisted I never walk barefoot around his place, and crossed over to the counter. There were little doodles in the corners of the note he left me. Designs that reminded me of the tattoos he put on other people. Ones he refused to put on me.

Hey sweetlips,

I hope you had a decent night. There are fresh towels in the
bathroom and a sandwich in the fridge. Give me a kiss before you
pass out.

~Chris

I folded it and put it carefully inside my bag. I had a little box of notes like these from him in my bedroom. I kept every single one.

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXO After Dark:
http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/08/01/pocket-star-e-nights-cracks-armor-helena-hunting/?mcd=z_140811_HHCracks_PSEN

Don’t forget to leave a blog post comment….
Thanks for stopping by!

 

 

Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway….Jumped by Colette Auclair

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Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title!

Jumped COVER

JUMPED

by Colette Auclair

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature JUMPED by Colette Auclair!
We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of Jumped!
Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

SUMMARY:
A young woman in the equestrian fashion business finds herself head over heels for none other than her ex-husband in Colette Auclair’s steamy sequel to her 2012 Golden Heart finalist and “page-turning debut” (Library Journal), Thrown.

Thoroughly enjoying herself at a friend Amanda’s wedding, Beth finds herself in an unexpected state of shock when she realizes she’s been seated next to her ex-husband, Finn, at the reception. Determined to not let this fluster her, Beth strikes up a conversation only to learn Finn isn’t the same man she walked away from.

Relieved the reception is over, Beth is looking forward to a relaxing weekend against the beautiful backdrop of sunny Aspen at her best friend Amanda’s estate. Little does she know Finn will be partaking in the weekend activities too. But just as Beth decides to keep as much distance between her and Finn as possible, Finn has a terrible accident and Beth is stuck being his bedside nurse.

Over the course of the weekend, Beth and Finn discover that the wounds of their failed marriage are not all that’s left. There are sparks…and hope. But just as they decide to give their relationship another try, Finn confesses a huge secret that could destroy everything he’s fought to get back—Beth, their relationship, and another chance at love.

Will Beth turn away, or will she take a leap of faith and say “I do” once (again) and for all?

EXCERPT:

Around midnight, Bethany came into the cabin with Mingo padding after her and closed the door as gently as she could.

“Mmm,” Finn said from his bed. Mingo went straight for him, a brown cylindrical rocket.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s fine.” He slept with his broken leg propped on a few pillows. He pet Mingo, who was beside himself with happiness, wagging his stubby breakfast-sausage tail as though the earth’s rotation relied on it.

“Do you need anything?” she asked as she turned on a lamp next to the sofa and came to his bedside. He was rumpled. Finn could pull off rumpled like Kardashians pulled off wedding rings. Beth’s mouth went a tad dry.

He shook his head. “No thanks.”

“Have you seen my phone?” She went into the bathroom.

“Uh . . . let me look,” he said.

She emerged and was surprised to find him in the kitchen, scanning the counter.

“You didn’t have to get up!” she said. “I wondered if you happened to see it. I’m not sure where I left it and thought it might be here.” She crossed to the coffee table in front of the couch and looked under an architecture magazine Grady had gotten for Finn.

Finn hobbled over. His expression was . . . unwelcoming. “You have a fruitful discussion with Jack?”

To anyone else, Finn’s question would have seemed benign. But Beth heard the edge. She lifted a cushion on the sofa and peered under it as she spoke.
“For the love of God, Finn. Yes. He was great. Thanks for asking.” She made sure to sound happy. Wow, but he could be annoying.
“Business? That’s all you two talked about?”
She rolled her eyes. “My business? Yes, for the most part. I also talked to Harris, Amanda, and Grady. What are you getting at?” She looked under another cushion, then at Finn.
He gave her a look. You know what I mean. “He must be a cheerful guy.”
“Why?”
“You two sure laughed a lot.”
“Do you know your leg will heal faster if you stop being an ass? Go back to bed.”
“Do you trust him? You think he knows what he’s talking about?”
“Jack? Yes.” She picked up each of the five magazines on the coffee table. No phone. “Grady wouldn’t have put me in touch with him if he wasn’t good at what he does. Did you question Grady about the orthopedist he sent you to?”
She needed to stand her ground, so she made a point to stand tall, facing him. Her pulse wasn’t exactly racing, but it wasn’t slow, either. She was letting Finn get to her. She had to Teflon up.
Finn asked, “He’s a good-looking guy, don’t you think?”
Oh, he wouldn’t dare. “Yeah,” she said. “Very good looking.”
She crossed to an armchair, speaking as she looked under its cushion. “Smokin’ hot. Broad shoulders.” She looked under the other chair’s cushion. “Beautiful eyes. Great ass. You bet he was good-looking. A complete and total hottie.” Take that.
“Did he hit on you?”
She faced him. “I think a better use of your time and energy would be to help me find my phone.”
His eyes were dark-denim blue. “Did he hit on you?”
“Oh my God, would you stop! What if he did? What business is it of yours? We’re not married anymore, remember?” Beth wiggled her left ring finger at him. Then she got on all fours and looked under the chair next to him.
Finn’s mouth was a hard seam that turned down at the ends. He looked like a rank stallion. He filled the space above her with his wide shoulders and anger.
She huffed out a breath. “No. It was business.” Before she spoke her next words, she rose and stood directly in front of him. “But if he had, I would’ve said yes and I would’ve liked it.”
If Finn wanted to be this way, fine. She would give it right back to him. She glared. Come on, Finn. You wanna dance? Let’s dance.
She was trying to guess what his next caveman accusation would be. Would he go overtly sexual? A classic character assassination? The dumb jock route, because Jack didn’t work for his business, but got lucky in sports?
Finn wedged the crutches beneath his arms and grabbed Beth’s biceps. She gasped. She hadn’t expected this. A brigade of tingles zoomed up her body from somewhere near her ovaries. Her pulse sprinted. Finn’s stare was unnerving, full of hunger and fury as he searched her face. She wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to say.
He was shaking. After a second he pulled her to him, slanted his lips to hers, and kissed her. More liked possessed her. He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and pressed her mouth to his. In a half heartbeat, she remembered exactly what his lips felt and tasted like. It was surreal, vivid, and hot. They were soft, but his kiss wasn’t gentle. His jealousy was so intense, it was almost a thing, like a flavor on his tongue.

 

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXOAfterDark:
http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/07/21/pocket-star-e-night-jumped-colette-auclair/?mcd=z?140804_AuclairJump_PSEN

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Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway….Deceptive Innocence by Kyra Davis

Star-E-Nights-Banner - graphic-2

 

Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title!

Deceptive Innocence - cover

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature DECEPTIVE INNOCENCE by Kyra Davis!
We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of Deceptive Innocence!
Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

 

DECEPTIVE INNOCENCE by Kyra Davis

SUMMARY:

Kyra Davis, the New York Times bestselling author of Just One Night, returns with book one in the thrillingly erotic Pure Sin series featuring a beautiful young woman out for revenge—until she falls in love with the one man whose secrets are as dangerous as her own. (Note: this volume collects Parts 1 – 3 of the previously serialized Deceptive Innocence ebook series.)

Ever since Bell’s mother died while serving time for a murder she didn’t commit, Bell’s been focused on one thing: revenge. She knows her mother was set up by Jonathon Gable, the head of both the powerful Gable family and an international banking corporation. Now she’s determined to take him down—from the inside.

Bell needs access to the Gable home and offices, so she poses as a bartender to seduce her way into the bed—and life—of Jonathon’s rebellious youngest son, Lander. He’s not a typical Gable, spending more time in the dive bars of Harlem than the posh cocktail lounges of the Upper East Side. He has an attraction to danger, a vulnerability Bell isn’t shy about exploiting. It should be easy to uncover the secrets she needs to destroy his family and clear her mother’s name.

But it turns out Lander is much more complicated than she ever imagined. He’s enticing, intelligent, mysterious—plus their sexual chemistry is off the charts. Even though Bell knows he’s the enemy, she can’t help but be moved, both physically and emotionally, by the man she swore was just a target. When he finds out the truth she’s sure both their hearts and her plan will be crushed…until she begins to realize that Lander might be hiding his own secrets, darker than she ever imagined.

EXCERPT:

My heart’s beating a little too fast and my eyes keep darting toward the door. He’ll walk through there any moment now. There are only a handful of barflies to distract me, and the kinds of drinks they order don’t take a lot of thought to make. This is not a Mojito Sparkler type of crowd.

Most of the people who come to drink at Ivan’s are men. They come to lose themselves in alcohol and sports. The few women who show up are looking for a special kind of trouble. This isn’t the place you come to in hopes of picking up a nice guy.

I know these women. Maybe not personally, but essentially I know who they are and what they’re about: disheartened or damaged, looking for men who can inflict enough pain to help them forget the pain that’s coming from within. Screwing assholes, making themselves vulnerable to emotional predators—it’s just another form of cutting, really. Every time they smile at a Hells Angels type I can see the unspoken words hovering over their heads.

Here’s the knife. Hurt me so I don’t have to hurt myself. Take away the responsibility and just give me the pain.

I get it, I really do. But it’s not my game, not anymore.

So I just pour the beer, keep the whiskey flowing, keep my smile evasive, cold enough to scare away the more aggressive ones, warm enough to coax the tips out of the passive . . . and keep my eyes on the door.

And then it happens. At exactly seven fifteen, he shows up.

I feel an acute pang in my chest, right where my heart is.

Lander Gable. How many times have I seen this man walk into this bar while I was sitting across the street in a cab or rental car? But now, today, I’m in the bar, and he’s walking toward me, not away. I’ve never been so close to him before. I can almost touch him!

And soon I will.

The ringing of the phone momentarily distracts me.

I pick up and ask, “Ivan’s, can I help you?” The person on the other end mumbles an embarrassed apology for calling the wrong number and hangs up, but I keep the phone pressed to my ear long after hearing the click, pretending to listen while I study the perfect specimen in front of me: a clean-shaven face, bronze skin, a watch that’s worth more than everything I own . . . Only he’s replaced the suit he wore to the office today with a pair of Diesel jeans and a sweater. Less conspicuous, but still a little too clean for this place. His physique hints at time spent at a gym, not a dockyard.

You’d think some of the other guys would kick his ass just for entering their bar.

And yet absolutely no one gets in his way.

It’s not until he’s almost at the bar stool that we make eye contact. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something there—curiosity maybe, perhaps surprise at finding a woman bartending, definitely appraisal.

I’ve gotta give myself a major pat on the back for that one. I must have spent two hours putting myself together today for him. He’s why I’m wearing my wild black hair down, letting it cover my bare shoulders. He’s why I matched the loose, low-slung jeans with a fitted tank that subtly reveals the benefits of my new push-up bra. He’s why I’m wearing thick mascara and sheer lip gloss. I know this guy’s tastes.
He takes his seat, pulls out a ten, and gestures to the bottle of whiskey still in my hand from the last drink I poured. “On the rocks, please.”;

“You sure?” I ask even as I fill a glass with ice. “I could make a whiskey sour if you like. Maybe throw in a cherry?”;

He raises his eyebrow slightly. “Mocking a patron when you’re new to the job? Risky, isn’t it?”;

“How do you know I just started?”;

“I’m here a lot.”;

“Every day?”;

“A few times a week.” He reaches for his drink, brings it to his lips. Over the glass he offers a bemused smile. “I like your prices.”;

“Really?” I ask. “Drinks more expensive where you’re from?”;

“You make it sound like I’m visiting from some far-off land.”;

“Are you?”;

His light-brown hair looks darker in this room, his eyes brighter. “Upper East Side,” he says.

“Ahhh.” I take a step back and cross my arms over my chest. “That’s about a million dollars from here.”;

He winces. “Not necessarily.” On the other side of the bar a few men burst into cheers as a UFC fighter’s arm is broken on live TV.

“You living at the 92nd Street Y, then?” I quip.

“No,” he answers, his smile returning. “I’ve managed to avoid that fate.” He studies me for a moment, trying to gauge what he’s dealing with. “How ’bout you? You live here in Harlem?”;

“Occasionally. I’m a bit of a drifter.” I fiddle with a glass, playing at cleaning it. “So why do you really come here . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”;

He gives me a quizzical look. “Considering how coy you’re being about what part of town you live in, I feel like maybe I shouldn’t volunteer my name just yet. That way we both have an air of mystery.”;

“Oh, I’m only coy about inconsequential things.” I lean forward, put my elbows on the bar, and cradle my chin in my hands. Ever so slightly I arch my back. “I’m very straightforward about the things I want.”;

“Really?” He takes another sip. “And what exactly is it that you want?”;

“Tonight?” I pause for a moment, pretending to think. “Tonight I want . . . your name.”;

His smile spreads to a grin. “You think you can coax it out of me?”;

“Maybe.” Out of the corner of my eye I spot one of the regulars on the other side of the bar waving his empty glass in the air. “When I have the time.”;
And I walk away to pour the next drink.

The foreman needing the refill is too drunk to notice that I’m trembling while taking his money.

God, is this working? Am I being too forward? Too much of a tease? My mother would have chewed me out for behaving like this.

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXO After Dark:
http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/07/15/psn-deceptive-innocence-kyra-davis/?mcd=z_140723_XOXO_PSN_deceptiveinnocence

Don’t forget to leave a blog post comment….
Thanks for stopping by!

 

Pocket books deceptive innocence

Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway

42646-Star-E-Nights-Banner3

 

Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title!

DrivingMrDeadCOVER

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature DRIVING MR. DEAD by Molly Harper!

We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of Driving Mr. Dead!
Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

 

DRIVING MR. DEAD by Molly Harper

SUMMARY:

A standalone novella introducing a new side of Half Moon Hollow—featuring a freewheeling courier and the stuffy vampire she has to transport.
Miranda Puckett has failed at every job she’s ever had. Her mother just wants her to come home, join the family law firm, and settle down with Jason, the perfect lawyer boyfriend. But when Jason turns out to be a lying cheater, Miranda seizes on a job that gets her out of town: long-distance vampire transportation. Her first assignment is to drive vampire Collin Sutherland from Washington to sleepy Half Moon Hollow without incident—no small feat for a woman whom trouble seems to follow like a faithful hound dog! And she has to do it without letting her passenger—the most persnickety, stuffy, devastatingly handsome vamp she’s ever met—drive her crazy. As she and Collin find disaster on the roads, they also find an undeniable spark between them. Could Miranda have found the perfect job and the perfect guy for her?

 

EXCERPT:

 

I was used to far more pleasant interactions with vampires. I’d worked as a waitress at a vampire bar called Bite for six months. The nonbreathing clients were a lot friendlier than those with pulses, and they left better tips. And in the days after I’d accepted the assignment, Iris, an old high-school classmate, had had me do a series of test runs, ferrying local cross-country to drive her friend Jane from Half-Moon Hollow to Nashville for a booksellers convention. Jane had been downright sweet, keeping me entertained on the brief drive through Tennessee with her absurd life story. None of these experiences had prepared me for Mr. Sutherland’s hostile, monosyllabic reception.

 

In his absence, I saw that the house was comfortable and quaint. The open floor plan gave visual access to nearly everything, including the spectacular view afforded by the back windows. Rough-hewn polished pine stairs led to a bedroom loft. Comfy-looking leather chairs the color of melting caramel flanked a river-stone fireplace. Bookshelves stocked with leather-bound editions stretched floor to ceiling on the opposite wall. There was no stuffy furniture, no

useless dust catchers beyond a red and gold military insignia framed and displayed on the mantel. A lion devouring a snake.

 

A thump from above snapped me out of my decor ogling. I focused on the little pile of luggage near the foot of the stairs, and I slung a dark leather designer overnight bag onto my shoulder.

When I bent to pick up a sleek silver suitcase, there was a blur of motion, the force of which swept my wet hair over my eyes. I lurched to my feet, pulling the damp strands out of my face, just in time to find Mr. Sutherland snatching the case out of my hands.

 

You do not touch this case,” he said sternly, shoving a pristine white towel into my hands. He swept across the room to blot my puddle from the floor with a clean cloth. “I am responsible for transporting this case to Ophelia Lambert at midnight four nights from now—a deadline that your tardiness has put in jeopardy, I might add. Therefore, only I touch the case.”

 

“But—”

 

“Only I touch the case,” he said.

 

I was starting to suspect that he had unnatural feelings for that case.

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to be handcuffing it to your arm?”

 

“Very amusing, Miss Puckett,” he said, looking me up and down. “Of course, I’m forced to assume that you are the Miss Puckett described in Miss Scanlon’s correspondence, since you have not, in fact, introduced yourself to me.”

 

Something about the way his silky voice slid over my skin triggered my “authority figure” complex. And suddenly, I was having some very unwelcome, very naughty images of Mr. Sutherland and his hypothetical handcuffs.

 

“Oh, right, sorry. Hi, I’m Miranda Puckett. I’m the driver for Beeline.” I reached out my hand to shake, a hand that he pointedly ignored as he swept past me.

 

Shocked by his rudeness, I merely followed in his wake, muttering to myself. “Nice to meet you, too. Oh, yes, I’m sure we’re going to end up lifelong friends after this road trip. We’re off to such a great start. Feel like I’ve known you my whole life,” I grumbled, toting the bags to the car while he checked and rechecked the locks on his front door. “And I’m talking to myself again. Super.”

 

I stared at the warm, dry house with longing. A kinder client might have offered me use of the restroom or even coffee. But I was hardly in a position to ask for perks.

 

To add insult to injury, my tardiness and the weather ruined my plans to introduce Mr. Sutherland to the fabulous features of the Batmobile, which I’d thoroughly rehearsed with a very patient Jane. A decommissioned Council vehicle that Iris had purchased for a song at auction, the Batmobile was built for comfort and safety. While it looked like a mild-mannered SUV from the outside, the Batmobile boasted a light-tight cubby that took up most of the

rear compartment’s floorboard, like a compact coffin, allowing the passenger to ride comfortably while I drove us in full sun. Tucked between the front seats sat a cunning little cooler/warmer for blood. It worked a bit like a bottle steamer, using hot water on a timed switch to bring the blood to an even 98.6. The windows were tinted with SPF 500 film so that he would be safe inside the cab if necessary.

 

I’d become familiar with those features on the three- (OK, four-) day drive to pick up Mr. Sutherland. I’d planned to make him familiar with them before we started the drive back to Half-Moon Hollow so he could deliver a parcel to an official with the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead. But clearly, Mr. Sutherland preferred that we just get on the road. I couldn’t blame him, I supposed. We absolutely, positively had to be back on time, or

Mr. Sutherland would not be paid . . . which meant that Iris would not be paid . . . which meant that I would not be paid . . . which would be upsetting.

 

Using the boatload of upper-body strength it took to close the rear door, I slammed it down. I noticed a pale flash out of the corner of my eye at the last minute. The gate came crashing down on Mr. Sutherland’s fingers with a sickening crunch.

 

This was a hallucination. I could not be looking at a vampire’s hand caught in a car door, crushed like something out of an Itchy and Scratchy cartoon. I clapped my hands over my mouth and let out a horrified shriek.

 

“Open the bloody gate!” he roared.

 

I scrambled for the key fob and clicked it, popping the door open. Mr. Sutherland groaned and flexed his mangled fingers, bent at bizarre angles, obviously broken in several places. Sure, they would fix themselves rapidly with his vampire healing, but it would hurt like a bitch.

 

“I’m sorry!” I cried, rushing forward to help him. He hissed like a cat and turned his back on me. “Shit! I’m so sorry!”

 

“Language, Miss Puckett,” he growled over his shoulder. “Did you not see that my hand was in the way?” He grunted as his fingers stretched and snapped back into their proper places.
“Not until the last minute,” I said. “Why didn’t you move your hand when you saw I was closing the door?”

 

“I thought you would stop the door,” he shot back.

 

“How was I supposed to do that? I don’t have vampire reflexes!”

 

“From now on, I will keep your limitations in mind,” he seethed,and pivoted on his heel toward the car door.

 

 

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXO After Dark:

http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/07/14/pocket-star-e-nights-driving-mr-dead-molly-harper/?mcd=z_140721_MHarp_PSEN

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Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway

Apprehended - cover

Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!
So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title!

42646-Star-E-Nights-Banner3

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature Apprehended by Jan Burke!

We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of Apprehended!

Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.
Thanks for stopping by!

Apprehended - cover

SUMMARY:

From the New York Times bestselling suspense author Jan Burke comes a brand-new e-short story with the added bonus of three short stories from the Eighteen anthology.

Apprehended is a mini-anthology containing a brand new short story from Jan Burke: “The Unacknowledged,” which features the fan-favorite investigative reporter Irene Kelly, back in her journalism school days. Also included are three short stories from the previously published Eighteen: “Why Tonight,” “A Fine Set of Teeth,” and “A Man of My Stature.”

Praise for Eighteen:
“Astonishing…wry…these stories are sure to delight.” —New York Times bestselling author Jeffrey Deaver

“A delightful collection of page-turners. At turns chilling, funny, poignant—and always insightful. With these stories, Jan Burke’s at the top of her game.” —New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman

 

EXCERPT:

I made sure we were alone. That was actually the hardest part. After realizing that no restaurant in the city would be free of people who might know Donna, I ended up inviting her over for dinner on a night when I knew Lydia had an evening class. Until two months earlier, Lydia and I had shared the place with another roommate, but she had married over the summer. We had been putting off finding another renter, but tonight I was glad for the lack of a potential eavesdropper, enjoying the emptiness and quiet that usually had me thinking that I was going to have to move back home again.

 

Donna and I made small talk until after I cleared the dishes. She seemed a little down. All the same, she was an easy person to talk to. I was fighting some very cynical thinking about that as I pulled out some photocopies I had made.

 

I had thought of going all Perry Mason on her ass, cross-examining her until she wept and admitted her crimes. I couldn’t do it. The truth is, I liked her.

 

“I had a special assignment given to me this week,” I said. “Do you know who Jack Corrigan is?”

 

She shook her head. My tone must have hardened, or my look, or—somehow I tipped her off that the nature of our little dinner party was about to change.

 

“Well, I suppose that doesn’t matter. I have a feeling that you do know who Cassie Chadwick was.”

 

She, who blushed so easily, turned pale. She looked at me with such desperation that, for a full minute, I wasn’t sure if she was going to cry, run away, or punch me. But she just nodded yes and looked down at her hands.

 

“If she hadn’t harmed so many people,” I said, “I could almost admire her cunning, not to mention her nerve. After running a number of other scams, she marries a naive doctor from Cleveland, just happens to convince him that they should visit New York at the same time a man from home is there—a man who is a high-society gossip in Cleveland. She asks that man to give her a carriage ride, and has him wait for her outside the home of Andrew Carnegie, a wealthy, confirmed bachelor. She goes into the house, comes out thirty minutes later, and—this part really interested me—trips as she’s getting into the carriage. Drops a promissory note for two million dollars—a note that appears to be signed by Andrew Carnegie, whom she blushingly claims is her father.”

 

She stayed silent.

 

“Too bad promissory notes aren’t what they used to be. Planning to borrow millions based on phony documents, and cause a bank or two to fail?”

 

“No.”

 

“I didn’t think so.” I let the silence stretch for a time, then said, “Who told you about Cassie Chadwick?”

 

“Aunt Lou, my great aunt. She grew up hearing stories about her. Aunt Lou claimed to ‘admire her brass’ as she put it. Aunt Lou doesn’t think women ever get a fair shake in this world.”

 

“Is Donna Vynes your real name?”

 

“My married name, yes.” She was tracing patterns on the tablecloth with one of her perfect fingers, still not making eye contact.

 

“So you’re really a war widow?”

 

The finger stopped moving. She looked up at me. “Oh yes. And my mother is dead. John, my husband, sent home all of his pay—a little over a hundred and fifty dollars a month at first. It was up to about four hundred when he was killed. Just about everything he saved for us got spent on my mother’s medical needs. But John also bought some life insurance through the service. So I had ten thousand from that.”

 

“That’s where the seven thousand comes from?”

 

“Yes.” She sighed. “There was this neighbor of Aunt Lou’s in Cleveland. Her daughter was about my age. Despite all my other faults, I’m not like Eldon, so I won’t name her, if you don’t mind. Anyway, at the end of last semester, she dropped out of school here. Looking back on it now, I think she was just really homesick.

 

“But what she told me was . . . well, once we got to know each other, she said the reason she left was because Eldon Naff slept with her and then told the world about it. She said she had been working as an assistant for Mr. Langworthy, or rather to someone on his staff. She said it was Mr. Langworthy who fired her, mostly based on Eldon’s gossip. I don’t know if that’s true, but I learned a lot about Mr. Langworthy from her. Including the fact that in early September, he was going on a Mediterranean cruise.

 

“And I couldn’t help thinking about Mr. Carnegie and Mrs. Chadwick. Especially because I never knew my dad. My mother always said my father died while she was pregnant with me, but I think she was lying. Aunt Lou all but confirmed that my parents weren’t married. So I am illegitimate, just not the child of a rich man.”

 

After a long silence, she said, “God, I don’t know how you did it, but I’m glad you figured it out. It’s a relief.”

 

 

 Link continuing the excerpt to XOXOAfterDark:

http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/07/08/pocket-star-e-nights-apprehended-jan-burke/?mcd=z_140714_Burke_PSEN

Don’t forget to leave a blog post comment….
Thanks for stopping by!

 

Pocket books apprehended

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pocket Star eBook Summer Event & Giveaway

Your summer Mondays just got more exciting!

XOXOAfterDark, Pocket Star’s romance and genre fiction community site, is hosting a special Summer eBook event!
Every Monday in July and August, you’ll find a Pocket Star-E Night post on XOXOAfterDark featuring three great Pocket Star eBooks…and Read-Love-Blog will also be highlighting one of the amazing titles each Monday!

So, mark your calendars to stop by every Monday to see what exciting new title is highlighted AND for a chance to win an copy of that title! 

42646-Star-E-Nights-Banner3

 

Today Read-Love-Blog is thrilled to feature Fixer by Jeff Somers!

We will also be having a giveaway for 5 ecopies of Fixer!  Just comment on this blog post to be entered to win.

Thanks for stopping by!

 

image008

 

Synopsis:

A prequel story to We Are Not Good People, the gritty new supernatural thriller from master storyteller Jeff Somers. Enter the hidden world of blood mages—and their victims.

The underground few who practice blood magic—casting with a swipe of the blade and a few secretive Words—are not good people. Lem and Mags live in this world, and they try to be good, try to skate by on Cantrips and charms and scratch out a meager existence without harming anyone…much. But when a massive debt forces Lem into the role of Fixer, he’ll learn exactly what down and out really means.

This ebook story also contains an excerpt of the forthcoming We Are Not Good People, out June 3, 2014

 

 

Excerpt:

It should have worked. It did work, right up until it didn’t.

“You got your trained bear on a leash, Vonnegan?”

I looked up and stared at Heller, his shaved head flaking into drifts of off-white skin that settled on the shoulders of his black fur coat. The big oversized sunglasses were studded with rhinestones, some of which had fallen off. He looked like he probably smelled, but I wasn’t going to test the theory. He didn’t appear to be wearing a shirt under the coat, though I was fucking relieved to see pants emerging from under its hem. Two kids, Asian and skinny and smoking cigarettes, stood on either side of him. Heller didn’t go for muscle. Heller went for speed.

Next to me, I heard Mags literally growling. I reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. I was slowly starting to realize that Mags had somehow bonded to me in unholy matrimony, and I was beginning to make long-term life plans that involved him.

I took a deep breath. “Listen—”

Heller held up a hand. “Save the bullshit, Vonnegan. You owe me thirty thousand fucking dollars, and you told me you’d have it tonight.”

I leaned back in my chair and let my hand slip off Mags’s shoulder. I decided that if the big guy went nuts and killed Heller by accident, I would allow it. Around us, Rue’s Morgue flowed and buzzed, populated by a big group of slummers from uptown who’d somehow found the bar. The extra humidity and noise was straining the environment beyond its capabilities, and everything had become smoky and dense, the air getting thicker as more drinks were poured.

I’d never had much energy for bullshit. When I started a lie, it got heavier and heavier until I couldn’t hold it up anymore. So I just went for brutal honesty.

“I don’t have it,” I said, spreading my hands. “I had a line on something, but it . . . didn’t work out.”

I pictured the ustari who’d brought me to this state, her and her lone Bleeder. She was a bottom dweller, going after her own kind. And that meant I wasn’t even a bottom dweller. I was fucking underground.

Heller smiled. His teeth were little green pebbles in his mouth, and I didn’t like looking at them, but I forced myself to smile back. We were equals, I told myself. I’d had ten years of apprenticeship that had gotten me nowhere, and a lot of the . . . people, the magicians, who hung out at Rue’s were way ahead of me, but I was learning fast. Heller acted like he was some sort of fucking Lord of the Shitheads, and I told myself that was an illegitimate position: No one had elected him.

“I don’t give a fuck what worked out or didn’t work out: You owe me fucking money and you don’t have it.” He nodded, once, as if coming to a sudden decision. “Go touch your fucking gasam for it, right? Enough screwin’ around.”

Thinking of Hiram and his hot, musty apartment and his tendency to believe that verbal abuse was a fine motivator, I shook my head. Gasam had been one of the first Words I’d learned: teacher, Master. The implied bondage in the Word hadn’t sat well with me. That should have been a sign it was all going to hell sooner rather than later.

I shot my cuffs and thought. Anything to not have to crawl back to that fat little thief and beg him for help. Anything. In service to the grift, I’d even tried to improve my look by investing in a fifteen-dollar suit from St. Mary’s thrift store; it fit like it had been made for show and possibly out of cardboard. But thirty thousand dollars, I’d recently discovered, was a lot more money than I’d thought. It was turning into an impossible amount of money.

Keeping my smile in place, I shook my head and pursed my lips. “Isn’t come to that yet, Heller,” I said. “Give me a couple more days.”

Heller’s smile widened and he gestured, vaguely, in the air, with one hand. Rings glinted on his wiry fingers. I had a second of anxiety, then the weird sense of blood in the air. Then I was being pushed down into my chair by an invisible force, so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“I could Charm ya out of it,” Heller said, stepping over to take hold of an empty chair and dropping it next to me. I could move my eyes but nothing else. Someone behind me, casting spells.

My heart was pounding. Next to me, I could hear Mags, caught the same as me, straining against the spell, trying to launch himself from the chair. I hated Heller, suddenly. He’d seemed vaguely ridiculous before, running his games, dressing like a porn producer from the 1970s. But now I owed him thirty thousand dollars, and I hated him. And I’d come so close to getting out from under him, too.

It should have worked. It did work. Until it didn’t.

Want more? Click on the link below for the extended excerpt:
http://xoxoafterdark.com/2014/07/07/pocket-star-e-nights-fixer-jeff-somers/?mcd=z_140707_PSEN_FXR

 

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