Heartless by Kelly Martin….Blog Tour & Review

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heartless 1400x2100Heartless by Kelly Martin

Series: Book 1 of 3
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publication Date: January 17, 2016

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Some things can’t be saved.
What would you do if your guardian angel wasn’t sent to protect you from the world but to protect the world from you?
For thirteen years, Gracen Sullivan dreamed about a red-eyed demon named Hart Blackwell who tortured her every night. Her mother freaked when she found out about her daughter’s “hallucinations” and forced Gracen to go to the doctor, who prescribed some very powerful medication which kept Hart out of her head for five years.
A week ago, Hart came back and brought a friend.
But something has changed, and Gracen is seeing Hart when she’s awake too. And the other “friends” in her dreams? They have been found dead.
The police want to talk to her.
Her boyfriend has become distant.
Her dreams are becoming more and more intense.
Hell wants her.
Heaven has to stop her.
When push comes shoving, can Gracen fight the evil eating away inside her or will she be forced to embrace it and destroy the world?
Book 2: Soulless (2/14/2016)
Book 3: Breathless (9/4/2016)

 

review

 

Kelly Martin has instantly gained herself a HUGE new fan!!! I was given an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review. I have no prior knowledge of Kelly or any of her books but the blurb was very intriguing.

I had no idea what to expect from Kelly in terms of plot writing, character development, world building, etc. I do however, set the bar at a certain level because I feel that a good author has to have certain qualities in writing an entertaining book. Well, Kelly blew away my expectations and then some. My only gripe was how PG this book was when it came to the language/dialogue – do I expect lots of cursing and sh*t (haha), no. However, the characters are in college – I do expect them to have some sort of adult content involved.

Kelly did a phenomenal job of character development and plotting. It’s a slow build but as you read the story, it’s a very intriguing and sets the pace for what is to come. Gracen’s character is very in-depth and has so many facets to her. She is complex and Kelly does a wonderful job of making sure the reader understands Gracen – especially her mind. The other characters are just as craftily written and the interactions between all of them just add to the story line.

Kelly wrote a hauntingly great thriller in the New Adult genre. She doesn’t stray from ambiance of the college life or what young adults at this point in life go through. If anything, it only heightens the “spook” value. I loved so much about this book.

I highly recommend this book to anyone – even if you are not a NA fan. You will absolutely love this book. I can’t wait to read the next one in this series.

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EXCERPT
@sullyGray: What ya up to today?

I sip my decaf coffee—which totally defeats the purpose of coffee, I understand that, but regular coffee gives me worse migraines than I already get—and stare a hole into my monitor. Yeah, I’m still one of those people who have a monitor. I have a desktop, a keyboard, a computer chair, and the whole mid-2000s thing going on in my bedroom/office. It’s the one room in the apartment where I can get away from everything. My place to shut the door, turn up the music, and dance if I want to dance. And I do want to dance. Nineties’ music is my specialty, and I use that word very loosely.

My room is my place to shut out the world. To stay awake and not sleep. To hide from my nightmares. To hide from Hart.

Every morning for the past week, it’s the same routine. I get up and rub my throat, because it hurts like a mother from all the screaming I apparently do in my sleep. As a side note, this is why I try not to sleep now when Sam’s here. Which means I don’t get a whole lot of sleep, but what’s sleep when you are eighteen? Eighteen year olds don’t need sleep. We need parties and friends and boyfriends to not think we are crazy.

Oh, I’m sure Sam does, though, because he’s caught me on a few occasions. Screaming. Yelling. Trying to fight Hart. Especially that first night. I had the honor of falling asleep in Sam’s lap while we watched a movie downstairs. Then, BAM, Hart was there. I was on the table. The same table I hadn’t seen in five years. Hart smiled. Hart cut.

Apparently, I screamed.

Sam woke me up, all big eyed and scared. He poured me some red wine, covered my shoulders with a blanket, and waited for me to talk about it. I drank every bit in about three swigs—incidentally, the best wine ever—and told him it had just been a nightmare.

He knows about the five pills I take every night before bed and four I take in the mornings. He doesn’t know what they are for. We’ve been dating for two years, and I haven’t felt the need to tell him about it—okay, I’m scared the heck out. I’m afraid he’ll leave me if he finds out. Sam is, well, he’s Sam. Samson David Asher. He’s perfect and good and all that other stuff I’m not. And up until a week ago, he’s been wonderful. Bless him…. He tries. He’s at Crimson Ridge on a football scholarship, so you know he’s athletic. It’s just that I don’t want to ruin this. He’ll think I’m crazy. His father, the therapist, will know I’m crazy. I’ve met him one time. That was the one and only time Sam took me over to his house. Plenty for me. He spent all of supper not necessarily breaking his Hippocratic Oath, but damn well coming close. He never used names, but I could tell ole Jane Doe was as batty as a belfry.

And Doctor Asher would laugh.

And Mrs. Asher would laugh.

Sam wouldn’t laugh.

I’m so glad Sam didn’t laugh.

Didn’t mean I wanted him to know about me.

At the time, there wasn’t much to tell. It wasn’t that I was lying. I took medicine to keep the scary dude from eating me in my dreams every night. That’s all. And it worked. It all worked. So I didn’t have to tell Sam.

That’s why I didn’t.

Then we moved in together, which my mother hated even though I told her we weren’t sleeping together or even in the same room. Even then in the back of my mind, I was scared that maybe the dreams and Hart would come back.

Looks like I was right.

Yay me.

When I finally roll out of bed, Sam’s already gone for the morning. He gets up before God and goes running. Then he goes to the gym. Then class. I don’t see how he can keep that up for the rest of the semester, but if that’s what he wants to do, who am I to complain? Makes it easier to fake being normal when I’m alone.

I sit and fidget with my coffee in my hands, staring at the screen, waiting for a reply. I need someone to talk to. Someone human. I’ve talked to Hart all night. He cut me open and the girl… well, she watched.

You try living with the same nightmare. You try being ripped apart every night in your dreams. For the past week, I’ve had to do it all over again. I thought it was over. I still take my damn medicine and nothing—he’s still there. He’s still torturing me, and I have no idea why. It’s getting to me, though. Seeing those red eyes in the middle of that boyish face. In fact, it’s those red eyes that stand out with Hart. Not sure why I named him that either. He’s just always been Hart. Like I’ve always been Gracen, and Sam’s always been Sam.

He’s always been my tormentor.

If it weren’t for the eyes, Hart wouldn’t be very bad looking. Tall, tan, toned, big muscles, which he uses to pull my skin off. By the way he tugs and rips, it seems like difficult work. I have the easy job. All I do is lay there naked and scream.

Hart has longish brown hair, which gets coated in blood sometimes. Lovely. I totally blame him for it. It’s longer now that he’s been gone for a few years. Funny how the mind thinks of weird things like that.

He isn’t real, of course. It’s just my brain doing what my crazy brain does. Some people dream of rainbows and kittens. Occasionally, they will have a clown or a possessed doll thrown in for flavor. To remind them that their mind is a pretty screwed up place. Sometimes a person will see themselves hanging down from the ceiling and scream while they sleep. Me? I’d give anything to see a freakin’ clown in my dreams. All I have, all I’ve ever had, is Hart.

I’m a lucky duck.

But, despite all that, I try very hard to be normal. Whatever that means. I smile when I figure I should smile and laugh when it seems appropriate to laugh. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty socially messed up. I hate crowds, and if I don’t have a backspace, well, I’m screwed. Royally. I like backspaces. The world needs a backspace. Imagine how awesome everything would be with backspaces.

For the most part, except for a few glitches—like the one time I dated Earl Flynn… and my entire sophomore year—I think I’ve done rather well for myself in the I’m-just-like-you department. It’s been exhausting, worrisome, and entirely too stressful, but I did it. And I’d been fairly good at it until this week. Until I’d moved away from home. Moved in with Sam. Drank a little extra wine every night. Sam offered, and who am I to turn it down even if I’m underage. The one bad thing I do in my life. And then I started dreaming of Hart again. My inner demons came out in my dreams. Very deep.

I thought I’d gotten out of the woods. I thought Hart was gone, and everything until the end of time would be hunky dory, all sunshine and roses.

I never should have thought that.

Idiot.

Is Tina ever going to message me back?

Seriously, I have class in like thirty minutes, and I need to finish getting ready. I know she’s online. The little green dot tells me that. And yeah, I guess I could wait for her on my phone, but keyboards are so much more convenient. To me anyway.

Tina is from California. I’d think she wouldn’t be up at the central time crack of dawn—or seven a.m.—but she is. She’s usually up before me. Messaging me. Asking me if I’m okay. If I slept well. Typical friendly Internet banter. A side note: I enjoy typical friendly Internet banter. It’s relaxing. There are no expectations. There is no judging. And yeah… backspace city up in here.

Tina, apparently, is one of those up and at ’em folks. I want to be like her someday. She’s my happy buddy, which isn’t as weird or creepy as it sounds. My therapist actually suggested it once. To keep away the demons, he’d said.

Dr. Sheldon took Hart very figuratively. I don’t think he ever thought of him as a person or a thing. Just a crazy hallucination in a crazy girl’s mind.

Maybe Dr. Sheldon is right?

My foot will not stop shaking as I scroll down my page, waiting for Tina to pop up. I know she has a life and kids and a family and she’s never seen me, but still, I need to talk to her. Talking to her makes me feel less insane.

Talking to a person I’ve never met in a room, by myself, makes me feel less insane. Yep, I’m totally normal…

The world is weird.

The shaking of my foot causes the blanket, the one I always have draped over my legs when I’m sitting at my desk, to fall toward the floor. Thanks to my lightning quick reflexes, I grab it before it crashes to the floor and pull it back to its upright position.

I’m freezing.

Then again, I’m always freezing. Always. I can’t ever remember a time when I felt warm. I totally blame Hart—even if he has nothing to do with it. The doctor, an actual medical doctor, said she thinks it’s some kind of hormone imbalance. At eighteen?

I’m falling apart.

Because I needed something else to break me.

I don’t care though. Not really. I can just keep a blanket on me and live in a world of denial where everybody is cold, and the hot or warm ones are mutants. It would be totally awesome if I were the normal person in the world and everybody else were the freaks. It would make my life.

Anyway…

@tinaM Mornin’ Nothing much. Getting ready to head out. You? Everything okay? Did you sleep well last night?

Loaded question. I place my fingers on the keyboard to type out my usual: “I slept fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Peachy. Awesome. Couldn’t be better.” But I freeze. Those words mean nothing to me. They sound like someone who is moving through the motions but her heart isn’t in it. And it’s not. Not really. I feel deflated. I thought Hart was gone, but he’s back. I thought I’d be able to have an awesome life in Crimson Ridge living on my own with Sam. I thought a lot of things. I thought wrong.

“I’m fine” is what humans say to each other if they are dying. Because we are polite and think our problems are nobody else’s problems. They are hurting worse than us—or someone in the world always is—so we shouldn’t complain. We shouldn’t tell anybody what’s bothering us. Not at all. Never. In the scheme of things, it isn’t important. We aren’t important.

I’m not important.

I should tell Tina I’m fine. This morning, though, for some reason, I don’t. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they type. Not really. Rough night…

My fingers itch to keep going. To share anything about Hart, the dreams, and the dark-haired girl who joined him last night. It has to mean something, right? It has to be a clue or an omen. I have to be dreaming about these things for a reason. Maybe if I talk about it, tell someone else about it, then I’ll be able to figure it out. A new, fresh brain on the matter, because, frankly, I’ve been thinking about it as long as I can remember. All I can come up with is “Why me?”

And lately, “What the hell are these new visions for?”

The old familiar beating pounds in my temples, and I know it’s coming. A migraine. I have them a lot unfortunately. And mainly when I’m trying to think about Hart. Trying to figure him out. I guess I’m trying to figure myself out, which is a whole new level of crazy. I’d make an excellent research project for someone if I told them the truth.

I can’t even tell Tina.

Even through my uncooperative fingers, my aching head, my anxious innards, I want to tell Tina some form of the truth, but I can’t. I just can’t.

But I’m sure it’ll be okay. I type back to cover myself. I’m a moron for even saying as much as I did. She’ll worry. I’ll have to explain. Lots of steps I don’t want to do.

I’m a thousand times sure it won’t be all right. Might never be all right again. But I say it because I’m supposed to. I’m human after all.

While I wait, the hardship of Internet chatting, my mind wanders. I really do like my apartment. It is nice and cozy. Two stories. The bottom has a ’90s-style kitchen with an eat-in area. A sliding door leads to the backyard. When I say backyard, I mean a little spot of land probably no bigger than a postage stamp. But it’s fenced in, and as a long as we pay the rent, it’s ours.

Ours… my mom doesn’t like me living with Sam. She likes Sam. Likes him as much as any guy I’ve gotten serious with; of course, Sam is the only guy I’ve ever gotten serious with. More for his determination than mine. That boy seemed to really like me when we first started dating, but now…

Anyway, my mom has enough to deal with, and I sure don’t help. Her sister, my Aunt Willow has been, well, she’s in a mental hospital. We aren’t sure exactly what made her snap, but snap she did. One morning she was fine and then… she wasn’t. Mom got a call that her sister was in the emergency room. She’d walked right in front of a car. Suicide they figured, which threw us both for a loop because Aunt Willow had always been full of life. I mean, yeah, she was a little weird at times, but aren’t all aunts? Actually, this all happened about a week before I met Sam. Aunt Willow used to live with us. Took care of me when I was little. She helped out because I didn’t have a dad. I mean, I’m sure I do somewhere, but I just don’t know him. Don’t know if I ever want to know him. That’s a lie. I would like to meet the man someday. Curiosity and all that.

So, Aunt Willow went insane, I met Sam, and two years later, we moved into our apartment at Crimson Ridge for school. Mama worries about the premarital sex since, apparently, that’s how I came into the world and she doesn’t want me to make the same mistake, which is an awesome thing to say to your daughter. Basically calling me a mistake. I know she didn’t mean it like that, but after all the grief I’ve put her through in the last eighteen years, I feel like maybe she meant it. She was young. Didn’t ask to have a kid. And BAM, there I was. It’s not like I was the easiest when I got to be a preteen either with the nightmares and the therapists.

But my mom, if she really knew Sam and me, she’d know that she has nothing to worry about. We’ve been good. No sex—not that I haven’t wanted to. Believe me, I have. But Sam hasn’t. He’s shot me down every time. It’s enough to make a person start to feel bad about themselves. Sometimes, I think that’s part of the problem with us. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that he’s a gentleman. Still, it’s not easy when it feels like even your boyfriend doesn’t like you.

Overdramatic? Yeah, probably. Can’t help my feelings, though. I can help them as long as I don’t talk about them. Talking is bad. Talking gets you new medicine, and if that doesn’t work, I don’t even want to think about it.

I wonder how many people in the world pretend to be normal. I wonder what normal would be if everyone stopped trying to be it and actually acted like themselves. I bet the geeks would inherit the world because everyone is at least a closet geek. Who doesn’t freak out over TV shows and Internet memes of their one true paring? Or fangirl? I do in the comfort of my own bedroom, staring at my own little computer, in my own little slice of Heaven. I love it here. Sam’s room is down the hall. The bathroom separates us. Like I said, he doesn’t venture to my end of the world very often.

I love my room. It’s white, clean, and cozy. I have dark purple curtains on the windows, shutter style doors on the closet, a starry fairytale lamp next to my bed, a quilt that looks homemade that I bought from the store, and my desk. All the comforts of home without having to hear my mom crying every night.

I should probably call her.

In here, in my little room, I’m safe. Or at least I used to be. I’d shut the door and everything would just go away. Now? Now I have Hart back, invading my dreams, killing me, bringing people to watch (which is extremely creepy, believe it or not). He invades my happy place and makes me feel uneasy in my own room.

I hate it.

I hate him.

I hate myself for not being strong enough to push through the nightmares.

I hate myself for having that little sliver of doubt—that little nagging feeling in the back of my mind—that maybe Hart Blackwell isn’t imaginary. That maybe he’s real. Or maybe I’m getting as crazy as Aunt Willow.

@tinaM: GRACEN! What’s up with you? Did you fall off your chair again or something? Helllllooooo…

So I sort of forgot to answer her. I suppose that happens. Happens to me when I start thinking and my mind wanders. #dangerous

@sullyGray Yeah, sorry. I’m here. Just thinking.

Like I said, thinking is a dangerous thing. And admitting to thinking when trying to act all fine is a dangerous road. I don’t like dangerous roads. I’d rather just stay on the straight and narrow. That sounds pretty good to me. Straight. Narrow.

Wait? Which road leads to Hell? Because I’d like to take the other, thanks.

@tinaM Panic attacks again?

Sometimes, I wish I’d never told her about the panic attacks. I’ve never mentioned Hart, obviously, but on the day the nightmares started coming back—has it really just been a week?—I messaged her. I guess I didn’t have my wall up completely yet, and I let it slip that I might possibly be having some anxiety issues. Now, my anxiety issues are all about the crazy dude in my head and not actually me… is it weird that I think of us as two different people? Yes? No? Maybe?

I so don’t want to think about that.

The thing is, I did tell Tina about the panic attacks and I regretted it exactly a millisecond after hitting the send button. I’d been careful to put the wall back up ever since.

I should tell Tina the truth, or some sane variation of it. I should give her some reason to stick around, because I do need to talk. Not to a therapist or a shrink, though I’m sure my mother wishes I would visit Dr. Sheldon more regularly. But a friend. An actual friend. Someone I can just talk to. Someone who understands…

Then again, who can understand this?

Part of me is afraid I’m going crazy.

Part of me is scared I’m not, because if I’m not, if what is going on in my nightmares is real, then I’ve got 99 more problems to deal with.

That’s why I can’t tell Tina. It’s why I can’t tell anybody. There is something inside me that will not allow me to have a meaningful conversation with people. It’s like part of me is missing. Not just the scary part either. It’s like I’m missing some important part of myself that everybody else has and God forgot to put inside me. Like everyone else has a nice awesome soul and I have… Hart.

So not a fair trade.

I sit up straighter and place my hands on the keyboard, ready to tell Tina something without telling her anything at all. It’s how humans communicate, right? I’ll tell her that, yeah, I’m having some anxiety issues. It’s the second full week of college, of living with Sam, of being away from home. College assignments are different from high school, and I’m a little stressed about doing well on them. I won’t tell her about Sam or the weird fight we had last night. Almost like he wanted to pick it so I’d go upstairs and leave him alone. I’ll tell her it’s anxiety and not that I haven’t slept more than two hours a night in a week. I’ll tell her a lot of things because she is my friend and that’s what friends do.

They lie to each other so they can make each other feel good.

@sullyGray I’m fine. Really. Just Monday morning, kwim? I’m ready for it to be Friday again. Whoot!

@tinaM Tell me about it! Mondays are so hard! Gotta go. Talk to you later. Have a great day!

@sullyGray You too!!!!!!

And then I add some smiley emoticons, because that’s just what a person does. I hit send and lean back in my computer chair. Monday morning. Time for Professor Mitchell’s class. Time to see Marcy, AKA the best Teacher’s Assistant in the world, and listen to the professor talk about some random event that happened in the Civil War. Because that’s what he does. He talks about random events that didn’t matter to anybody but does it in such a way that you care. Professor Mitchell is one of those teachers who just makes you want to learn, makes you want to listen. He has something special about him. Something no other teacher has had, and I’ve only had him three times. I have his class Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. A great way to start the week, and a great way to end it.

Can’t exactly say enough about Professor Mitchell. I mean, he’s him.

Sweet, intelligent, awesome, and at least twenty years older than me. Handsome in that old guy way. Not that I’d want anything to do with him—not in that way. Not feelin’ that, but I know some other people in the class wouldn’t mind.

The professor loves talking about the Civil War. More than just the war, the families involved, the real people behind the “Hollywood machine,” as he calls it.

I shut down my computer and stretch in my chair. Yeah, it’s Monday, but it’ll be a good Monday. It will. I’ll go to class with a positive attitude. I’ll listen. I’ll take notes. I’ll text Sam—funny how he’s not sent me one before now—and I’ll be happy.

Or, at the very least, I’ll pretend to be happy.

That’s all people really want, right?

Sunshine. Marcy, the T.A. for Professor Mitchell. Tina. Sam—somewhere. I’m living my life. I’m moving on. I’m totally ignoring Hart, who is currently whispering in my head about candles.

I’m fine.

I’m totally normal.

Heartless Teaser

 

11924910_885286308218439_7478011809411357264_nKelly Martin

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If you ever have a question or comment, feel free to email her at kellymartin215 @ yahoo . com ♥ You can follow her writing adventure at www.kellymartinbooks.com

Kelly Martin writes paranormal, contemporary, historical, and YA fiction. She has been married for over ten years and has three rowdy, angelic daughters. When she’s not writing, she loves taking picture of abandoned houses, watching horror gamers on YouTube– even though she’s a huge wimp– and drinking decaf white chocolate mochas. She’s a total fangirl, loves the 80s and 90s, and has a sad addiction to paranormal TV shows. {Basically, she likes creepy stuff.} Her favorite characters are the very flawed ‘good guys’–and ‘bad guys’ who don’t know they are evil. She loves giving her readers books with unexpected twists and turns, but (here’s a hint) most of her books have the ending spelled out in the first chapter. See if you can figure it out.

 

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Palm South University: Season Two (Episode 1)…Release Day Blitz & Review

Title: Palm South University: Season Two Episode One
Author: Kandi Steiner
Release Date: March 8, 2016
Find on Goodreads – http://bit.ly/1Tfdky6

Drama. Lies. Sex. 

Welcome to Palm South University.

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up in South Florida. At a school where fraternities and sororities don’t exactly play by the rules, relationships are bound to be tested. Parties and sex are definitely key ingredients in the Palm South recipe, but what happens when family issues, secret lives, and unrequited love get tossed in the mix?

Follow Cassie, Bear, Jess, Skyler, Erin, Ashlei, and Adam as they tackle college at a small, private beach town university. Written in television drama form, each episode of this serial will pull you deeper and deeper into the world of PSU.

Where the sun is hot and the clothes are scarce, anything can happen.

review

Well isn’t that quite the exciting start to this season. 

Season 2 starts off with Spring semester in full swing.  We are given a quick synopsis of what everyone did over winter break.  They are excited to start Spring off with a bang – and they do – in more ways than one. 

We get our fill of Jess, Cassie and Bear and what’s going on from their view points.  We are given some hints about things going on with Skyler, Erin, Asheli and Bo.  We are even introduced to a new character who has his sights one of our girls. 

Great start to the season.  Excited to see what goes on in the next episode!

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“Kind of presumptuous, don’t you think?” She asks, but her eyes are already undressing me.
“Depends.”
“On?”
I shrug. “On whether you let me take you back to my room or not.”
She stares at the hand I’m now holding out toward her, seemingly debating her options. She could easily walk away, find one of her girlfriends and leave the party without so much as another word. But the way she’s chewing her lip tells me that’s not exactly the plan she has in mind.
“I’m only going back with you on one condition.”
I wait, hand still outstretched as she narrows her eyes.
“I want two orgasms tonight. And not the kind I fake, the kind I can’t hold back with. The kind that make my legs sore in the morning.”
My teeth find my bottom lip, fighting back a smile. Who the hell is this girl and where has she been hiding?
“I’ll give you three.”
Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.

Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).

When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.

 

Porn Star by Laurelin Paige & Sierra Simone…Release Blitz

PS BANNER

Porn Star by Laurelin Paige and Sierra Simone
Release Date: March 8th

Porn Star Ebook Cover

Synopsis:

You know me.

Come on, you know you do.

Maybe you pretend you don’t. Maybe you clear your browser history religiously. Maybe you pretend to be aghast whenever someone even mentions the word porn in your presence.

But the truth is that you do know me.

Everybody knows Logan O’Toole, world famous porn star.

Except then Devi Dare pops into my world, and pretty soon I’m doing things that aren’t like me—like texting her with flirty banter and creating an entire web porn series just so I can get to star in her bed. Again. And again.

With Devi, my entire universe shifts, and the more time I spend with her, the more I realize that Logan O’Toole isn’t the guy I thought he was.

So maybe I’m not the guy you thought I was either.

 

Porn Star - AN

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PS-Make-Porn-With-Me

Excerpt:

I spin around and throw my phone as hard as I can into the pool.

It lands with a small splash, sinking like a brushed-aluminum stone straight to the bottom. My momentary satisfaction is eclipsed by immense regret, because I just got that phone a few weeks ago. Fuck it, I can get a new one tomorrow. If that’s the price I have to pay to keep myself separate from Raven, then so be it.

I take a few healthy chugs of the Laphroaig.

“I hope you’ve got a good warranty,” a cheerful voice says from next to me. Even over the smoky scent of the whisky, I smell her. Cinnamon and sunshine.

I inelegantly swallow the Scotch still in my mouth, turning to face the person next to me. “Devi.”

She flashes me her sunny grin, and then returns the greeting by playfully bumping her shoulder against my arm. Heat flares across my bicep, emanating from the place where our bare skin touched, and the heat slowly migrates towards my chest, independent of the blood now pumping to my groin.

I am suddenly very aware of the fact that Devi and I have never been alone. Strange, given that we’ve given each other orgasms, but Raven’s Real Playdates was the only time we’ve worked together, and there are so many people on a porn set that it’s impossible to feel any sense of alone-ness, even when you’re staring them in the eyes while they suck you off. And even though we’ve seen each other at parties and events since then, we’ve only ever said hi or how are you or where’s the drinks? Not exactly the basis for a deep understanding of one another.

So I should probably explain why I just chucked a brand new phone into the water, and also maybe not reveal the fact that I have a massive crush on her.

I try to muster the casual, flirty guy I was earlier tonight. “Devi, I…”

I jack off to you almost every day.

“…I, uh, didn’t know anyone else was out here. Or I wouldn’t have, you know.” I mime throwing the phone.

She laughs and then bends down to unfasten her leather heel. “If it’s in a good case, it might still be okay,” she says. I watch, transfixed, as she kicks off both shoes, shimmies out of her shorts, and then walks to the edge of the pool. She’s wearing what legally might qualify as underwear, but only just barely.

Have I mentioned Devi Dare’s ass? Because I should. She has one of the best asses known to mankind. Plump and thick and juicy, the kind of ass that invites biting and squeezing, and the way it slopes out from her small waist is pure poetry. And those legs—despite the obvious muscles in her calves and thighs, they still move as she walks, like her ass does, and there’s something so healthy about it, so tantalizing about her body with its wide hips and slightly soft stomach and full breasts. She’s sexy in such a visceral, biological way, the kind of way that says you want to make babies with me. My cock lengthens as I watch her, tens of thousands of years of evolution telling me to haul her off and impregnate her.

She turns, hands on her hips. “Are you going to join me?”

“I was just enjoying the view,” I say, and it comes out a little too raspy, a little too honest, but then I follow it up with a weak grin and then she laughs and jumps into the pool. With a final gulp of whisky, I put the cork in the bottle and then fling myself in after her, clothes, shoes and all.

The water is cool and it’s the best kind of contrast to the dry heat of the night and the warmth of the Scotch in my stomach, and the new kind of warmth that’s agitating in my chest, something frictive and thrilling and pressing up against my anger and my broken heart. Something that started the moment Devi brushed up against my arm.

I jumped into the deep end, and so it’s a few beats before my feet press flat against the bottom and I can push myself back up. I break the surface, sputtering, and awkwardly try to swim over to Devi with one hand still clenched around my Scotch bottle. She treads water as steadily and gracefully as a water nymph, her long hair floating around her shoulders and her gold top drifting away from her skin, giving me just the barest glimpse of one nipple, dark rose and peaked into a tight furl. Water droplets cling to the thick fringe of her eyelashes.

“You’re not very good at swimming,” she points out as I make my way closer.

“Never liked it much,” I say, swimming past her and moving to where my feet can touch. With a sigh of relief, I set my feet down, examine the Scotch bottle to make sure no pool water leaked in, and then I take a long drink. I’m on my way to being drunk, but I’m intent on sealing the deal. What can I say? I’m a finisher.

Devi drifts up next to me, holding something in her hand. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my phone, the entire reason we spontaneously jumped into the pool in the first place. And somehow, miraculously, the pricey case the Apple Store girl talked me into buying has saved the phone. The screen still glows with my unwritten text message.

Somehow, between the pool and the Scotch and Devi Dare with no pants on, I’ve lost the urge to talk to Raven. I take the phone and toss it carelessly onto the concrete and then turn back to Devi.

You, on the other hand, seem like quite the swimmer,” I say with a smile, offering her the Scotch. She takes it and raises the bottle to her lips.

“I was raised in California, you know,” she says and then takes a drink.

“Well, so was I. But my parents are Boston transplants, so I guess they never saw swimming as a priority for me.”

She hands the bottle back to me. “I think I had floaties before I had a bicycle. My parents are very, uh…” She searches for the right words. “Natural people. They think it’s important to be periodically cleansed of negative energy, and flowing water is one of the best ways to do that. So we went swimming at least once a week.”

I can see the faintest blush coloring the apples of her cheeks, as if she’s embarrassed of what her parents believe. And then I wonder if she’s embarrassed because she believes it a little too.

God, that blush is so sexy. I want to lick it right off her face. And then pin her down and lick her everywhere.

She tilts her head to the sky. “You can see Cassiopeia tonight.”

I look up, following her gaze, but I see nothing other than the golden glow hovering above the city and a smattering of faint, twinkling stars. “Is Cassiopeia a constellation?” I venture.

She laughs and nods, and then she reaches over and takes my head in her hands. My pulse thrums, that warmth in my chest explodes into flames, and I want her to kiss me kiss me kiss me, but before I can turn my head to her, she trains my face to the sky, facing the right direction this time.

“Do you see it?” she asks. Her mouth is close to my neck, and I wonder what it would feel like if she bit me there. “It looks like a letter M.” She traces the shape of it with her fingers, until finally I see it–an underwhelming handful of tired stars.

“You can’t see it this far into the city sometimes,” she continues.

“Cassiopeia sounds like a porn name,” I say frankly and she laughs again.

“Ptolemy named it.”

I give her a blank look. I got pretty good grades in school, but it’s been more than ten years since graduation, and anything not intimately related to film or the kind of math I need to run my business has been filtered out of my brain.

“Ptolemy was a Greek astronomer,” she explains, giving me an amused glance. “He named it after a famous queen in Greek mythology. She was so beautiful and vain and boastful that she brought the wrath of Poseidon down on her kingdom.”

Beautiful, vain, boastful. My mind swerves back to Raven, possibly still in this very house, possibly still being screwed with that evil smile on her face. Where is Poseidon when you need him?

No.

No, I won’t let Raven crowd into my happy, drunk moment with Devi and the Scotch. I speak as much to drive away thoughts of my ex as to comment on Devi’s astronomy knowledge. “You know a lot about this shit,” I tell her, turning my eyes back to her face completely.

And now she really blushes. “I really like astronomy. Stars and galaxies and stuff. It makes life feel so…big…you know?”

The thing is, I do know. That big feeling, I mean. I get it every time I watch an amazing film, every time I imagine my own films with just the right setting and just the right cinematography and just the right score.

“I’ve never met a performer who’s told me anything like that,” I say. And it’s true. Not once have I been around another adult film star and had them confess a purely impractical fascination. A call toward something that makes them feel like life is magical.

She blinks, and the way her long, thick eyelashes brush against her wet cheeks is arresting. “Really?”

“Really. Devi Dare, I do believe you are my first.”

Smile-for-the-camera

Goodreads

Catch up with Logan O’Toole HERE

Enjoy a sneak peek of Porn Star’s Logan O’Toole now on iBooks: http://apple.co/1Vlrew9

 

About the Authors:


Laurelin Paige is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She’s a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters.

Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City

 

 

Connect with the Authors:

 

Laurelin Paige

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Website

 

Sierra Simone

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Website

 

 

Unspeakable by Kristen Hope Mazzola….Cover Reveal

Title: Unspeakable (Unacceptables MC Romance)
Author: Kristen Hope Mazzola
Cover Model: Lance Jones
Release Date: March 12, 2016
Find on Goodreads
It’s finally my time.
Everyone has their damn breaking point, why did the president of my MC’s daughter have to be mine? She was everything I wanted, and nothing I could have.  Being a prospect was hard enough. Living with my father that I had only known for a few years wasn’t making life any easier. And there I was, ready to jeopardize it all for love. I went to Vilas to figure out where I came from, little did I know that I wasn’t just going to be passing through. This life was pumping through my veins, I just didn’t know it until I walked into the Unacceptable’s bar for the first time.
Raine Hellock was my kryptonite and come hell or high water, I was going to figure out how to make her mine.
I banged on the front door.
Thank fucking god for liquid courage.
The whiskey was making me warm. The panic of loosing Raine was making me frantic. The fact that I knew she was making a huge mistake was making me irrational.
“Ryder? For fucks sake…” Crickett threw the front door open, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Is Raine home?”
Crickett shook her head. “She went out with Kiera. They said they were going to be late.”
I pulled in deep breath. “Well, it’s fucking late. Is Abel up?”
I heard his thudding steps quicken after I said his name, trotting down the stairs. “What in gods-name?” He was already pulling his boots on, no questions asked.
“We need to get to her before something happens.”
“What’s going on, Ryder? Where is Raine?”
I grabbed Crickett’s hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring her home safely.”
Abel pulled his jacket on and followed me out the door. “Lead the way.”
That was it. We were on a mission. 
Unacceptable – Released June 25, 2015

It’s finally my time.

Time to escape from my mother, her crazy antics and questionable morals. I’m getting the heck out of Dodge, leaving the trailer park, to make something of myself. Everything was fine until I walked into The Unacceptables’ bar and met Abel Hellock. With his gorgeous muscles, tattoos, motorcycle and perfect smile, my knees quaked. My life was about to be sucked back into the seedy underbelly I fought so desperately to climb out of.

Everything was fine until I met my step-brother for the first time.

**18+ for sexual situations, language, and adult themes**

You want to know more about me? Well, let’s see…

I am just an average twenty-something following my dreams.  I have a full time “day job” and by night I am an author.  I guess you could say that writing is like my super power (I always wanted one of those).  I am the lover of wine, sushi, football and the ocean; that is when I am not wrapped up in the literary world.

A portion of all my profits are donated to The Marcie Mazzola Foundation.

 

Rage by Elizabeth Reyes…..Read-A-Long

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What happened in chapter 25 – the epilogue?:

Fred is continuing to threaten Addison and Clair – not with violence, subtle threats about his rights. He even gets Clair’s named tattooed on his arm and then leaks photos of them meeting to the press, although his identity is not revealed in the photos.

AJ is in the middle of a game one day when he sees another player with the tattoo. He knows, instantly, this is Clair’s father – and it’s someone he already hates. He loses it and control his rage.

After the game, AJ calls Addison and in the middle of their conversation, Fred calls – AJ tells Addison if she answers it, they’re done. But she has to answer because Fred is threatening to reveal his identity to the press.

Addison comes up with a clever way to get Fred to back off, but AJ still isn’t speaking to her, so she shows up at a family gathering and get into a huge fight. Addison is furious that AJ wouldn’t even hear her out and AJ is upset he she finds out why Addison met with Fred that night. But they love each other and they’ve missed each other so much – and Addison has some very happy news for him.

Favourite Quote:

“Us. It was hard to wrap his mind around how one little word could fill him with such happiness and hope.”

“I’m not sure how long I would’ve been able to hold off crawling back to beg you to take my stubborn ass back.”

Discussion Question:

  • Was Clair’s dad who you expected him to be?

rageAbout RAGE

Having made it to the major leagues, AJ “Rage” Romero is determined to shake the stigma his temper has earned him over the years. He’s finally managed a shaky hold of that elusive self-control.

Until he meets them . . .

Without warning, his coach and mentor’s brilliantly gifted granddaughter Clair and her equally amazing mother Addison Lara blow into AJ’s life. The harder he falls for Addison, the closer and more attached he becomes to Clair.

Having fallen so fast and hard, he agrees to respect the understandably protective single mother’s wish to forever keep the identity of Clair’s absent father unknown to everyone–including AJ.

But when the ugly truth about Clair’s dad begins to surface, the fire in AJ’s fiercely possessive heart is lit. As more of the troubling reality comes to light, his zero tolerance for secrets and dishonesty put his temper–and his love for Addison–to the ultimate test.

Self-control has never felt so impossible.

RAGE is a STANDALONE sexy romance with a alpha male hero that will make you tremble. It has an HEA and NO cliffhanger!! It is suitable for ages 17+

Get RAGE now: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iBooks

REVIEW

I love Rage and this book. LOL. This is probably my favorite book in this series so far.

Rage is slightly different than the rest of the books in this series in that in really focuses more on the love of a child and his AJ’s ability to form a strong bond with her regardless of what his peers think of him.

AJ (Rage) is a major league baseball player and earned the nickname Rage because of his extreme outbursts and inability to keep himself in check (on or off the field). However, he has learned to control and focus that energy in a more positive way thanks to his coach, Mr. Lara.

Addison is coach Lara’s daughter and her daughter, Clair, is a huge baseball fanatic and smart beyond her years. She also has the same love of stats as her mom, so she is always going with her grandfather to all of the games. She also happens to be AJ’s biggest fan and these two form one hell of a bond.

Due to the closeness of not only Clair and AJ, but also the way AJ looks up to coach Lara, it’s inevitable that AJ and Addison would eventually meet. Their first interaction isn’t one that I would say went smoothly either. But as time moves on, things become better and also get more complicated, for many, many reasons.

I won’t give any more of the plot away. This book is full love, devotion, heartache, deceit and determination. You will feel everything that both AJ and Addison feel. You will understand AJ’s rage and you can totally picture him when he is flying off the handle, regardless if you agree with him or not. You can sense Addison’s apprehension to a certain point, only because we don’t know exactly what all she has going on.

AJ and Addison will both infuriate you and also make you want to root for them. These two are very passionate people and they do no hold back anything. Elizabeth does an amazing job of writing two extremely strong characters. Yes, they have their flaws, but that’s what makes them so much more real and honest.

As I said earlier, this is probably my favorite book in this series. I cried, laughed, rooted on fights, and even felt like punching things all while reading this book. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this story. I love when I feel so much in one book.

Another highly recommended book by Elizabeth Reyes!!

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Elizabeth Reyes’ newest release, HIS TO GUARD is available now! Add it to your Goodreads list here!

Get your hands on HIS TO GUARD today:

Amazon US | Amazon UK | iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Smashwords

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Giveaway

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Follow along with the Rage Read-A-Long!

About Elizabeth Reyes

Award winning, USA Today Bestselling Author, Elizabeth Reyes continues to answer her calling on a daily basis. Since releasing her debut novel FOREVER MINE (MORENO BROTHERS #1) in 2010 she has since published seven more in that series, FOREVER YOURS, SWEET SOFIE, WHEN YOU WERE MINE, ALWAYS BEEN MINE, ROMERO, MAKING YOU MINE, and TANGLED with more stories about the Moreno family and their friends to come. She’s also published a second series, 5th Street which includes, NOAH, GIO, HECTOR, ABEL. FELIX. Her Moreno Brother’s spinoff series FATE includes FATE, BREAKING BRANDON, SUSPICIOUS MINDS and AGAIN (Sydney’s story). Her debut traditionally published title is DESERT HEAT and her latest release is her first ever three part romance serial DEFINING LOVE.

When she’s not writing (which is rare) she spends as much time as she can with her husband of almost twenty-one years, two young adult children, her Great Dane, Dexter and big fat lazy cat named Tyson.

Website | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads | Newsletter

Through Her Eyes by Ava Harrison….Cover Reveal

through her eyes cover [59308]

Through Her Eyes: A Novel

By: Ava Harrison

Photo Image: Jenny Woods

Cover Design: Hang Le

Releasing: March 20th

Add to your TBR at:  http://bit.ly/20EZ1XP

through her eyes cover ebook [59307]

Blurb

One phone call changed me.

Three simple words and I was shattered.

Damaged.

Broken.

Alone.

So I started over.

And my journey of rediscovery led me straight into his arms.

Chase Porter.

The stranger who showed me life from a different perspective.

But we both had secrets…

His would destroy my world.

through her eyes teaser [59309]

About the Author:

ava harrison [59306]

Ava Harrison is a New Yorker, born and bred.

When she’s not journaling her life, you can find her window shopping, cooking dinner for her family, or curled up on her couch reading a book.

Facebook Page | Pinterest | Perfectly Flawed Support Group on Facebook.

Backfire by Keri Lake….Cover Reveal

Title: Backfire
Series: A Vigilantes Novel
Author: Keri Lake
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: Summer 2016
No matter how unbreakable he may seem, every man has a weakness.
A year ago, my home became a bloodstained crime scene. That night marked the beginning of my hell—the same night I was tortured by my enemies and tossed into an underground prison to die.
They failed. I survived.
Now that I’m free, only one motive burns in my soul: revenge.
Lucky for me, they think Jase Hawkins is dead. Maybe I am. I’ve got nothing but a cold, merciless rage, and Black Betty, the sharp steel blade that never leaves my side. 
Then she drifts into my life.
Lucia wants answers—so much so, she’s willing to fall into the darkness where my enemies lie in wait, to kill her for what she knows. 
Or to take her for the depraved fantasies her body alone can rouse in a man’s mind.
Me? I want her for the fire in her touch that feeds my addiction, forces me to feel what has become numb, but my appetite for bloodshed runs deeper than flesh.
For my own sanity, I’ve vowed to stay away from her. Because she’s my only weakness, an obsession that leaves me craving more—one that could make even the most steadfast plan backfire.

Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she’s earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary and paranormal romance. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions when distraction sucks her in to the Land of Shiny Things. 
She loves hearing from readers 


HOSTED BY:

SMUT by Karina Halle….Cover Reveal

We are very excited to announce a brand new standalone from Karina Halle.

SMUT is a enemies to lovers romantic comedy releasing on May 9th.

Smut-print-FOR-WEB

 

 

Smut AMAZON - CopyWhat happens when the kink between the pages leads to heat between the sheets?

All Blake Crawford wants is to pass his creative writing course, get his university degree and take over his dad’s ailing family business. What Amanda Newland wants is to graduate at the top of her class, as well as finally finish her novel and prove to her family that writing is a respectful career.

What Blake and Amanda don’t want is to be paired up with each other for their final project but that’s exactly what they both get when they’re forced to collaborate on a writing piece. Since Amanda thinks Blake is a pushy asshole (with a panty-melting smirk and British accent) and Blake thinks Amanda has a stick up her ass (though it’s brilliant ass), they fight tooth and nail until they discover they write well together. They also might find each other really attractive, but that’s neither here nor there.

When their writing project turns out to be a success, the two of them decide to start up a secret partnership together using a pen name, infiltrating the self-publishing market in the lucrative genre of erotica. Naturally, with so much heat and passion between the pages, it’s not long before their dirty words become a dirty reality. Sure, they still fight a lot but at least there’s make-up sex now.

But even as they start to fall hard for each other, will their burgeoning relationship survive if their scandalous secret is exposed or are happily-ever-afters just a work of fiction?

Goodreads Link:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29381926-smut

 

smut1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Halle HeadshotKarina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Racing the Sun, Sins & Needles and over 25 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.

Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.

Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.

FACEBOOK TWITTER GOODREADS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

 

Set the Pace by Kim Karr….Blog Tour

Set the Pace BT Banner

 

Set the pace FOR WEB

 

Every city needs a hero, but Detroit’s white knight just might be a villain.

A rough childhood branded Jasper Storm trouble. A bad boy. Not worth a damn. His love of cars was the only thing that could battle his delinquency. With the need for speed in his blood, he overcame his wayward ways. Mostly. All grown up, the broken city of Detroit hails him their shining star. And the man behind a new cutting-edge automobile is ready to turn this bankrupt town around.

Everything he does in life is fast. He talks fast, f*cks fast, and drives fast. But when one reckless turn brings him face-to-face with the childhood he has tried very hard to forget, he finds himself on the edge of wondering if he shouldn’t slow down.

Charlotte Lane was the tomboy who lived next door. She was his best friend. He was her protector. Then tragedy struck and she disappeared, forever—or so he thought.

Jasper has many reasons to hate Charlotte and keep his distance, but she’s infiltrating his every thought and he can’t stay away. Back in town with an agenda of her own, she should push him aside. Make him turn around. Walk away herself. Yet she can’t.

With the past lurking between them, they proceed with caution. That is until one sex-filled night leads to murder. When Detroit’s biggest ally suddenly becomes suspect number one, will Charlotte—the girl Jasper once kept safe—be the one to save him?

goodreads link

amazon link


STP - White Knight - Dual (1)

 


 

EXCERPT

 

 

Set the Pace

Excerpt

© 2016 by Kim Karr

 

Charlotte Lane

Buzz. Buzz.

Startled, I jump and quickly place the frame back in its place.

Buzz. Buzz.

It’s the call button from the lobby. I’m not sure what to do. I should probably ask Jasper if he is expecting anyone before I let whomever it is up.

The hallway he disappeared down is fairly long and at the end are two doors. Both are slightly ajar. I can hear the shower running and music playing. I try to place the song. Just as I go to knock, I pause, and then grin, it’s Led Zeppelin—the same music that used to blare from his garage when he was out there with his father.

Somehow in my absentminded quandary, my fingertips have nudged the door open just enough that I can see inside the bathroom. Perfectly. In my direct line of sight is a huge glass wall and he is just beyond it.

My pulse is beating so hard I can feel it pounding at all my pulse points. I should leave. I don’t need to bother Jasper. Whoever it is buzzing to come up can just come back later. Yet, I can’t move. Or maybe it’s more like I don’t want to move.

Steam hovers in the air but there’s not nearly enough to obscure anything. And there he is, naked in the water, head bent as it sluices over him. His eyes are closed. One hand is on the wall. The other slides slowly down his belly and lands between his thighs.

Oh, God.

Now I really can’t move. I’m frozen in place. His hand is on his cock. I swallow the noise my throat tries to make, but I’m sure I don’t do a good job of it. Thank you, Jesus, he doesn’t seem to notice. No, he definitely doesn’t notice because oh, my God, now he’s stroking himself. Slowly. Deliciously. Up, then down, and a twist of his palm around the head of his cock.

I shouldn’t be watching this, and yet I can’t look away. This is private. For him only, and yet I have to wonder if it’s because of me. Is it his attraction to me that made him step back just moments ago? Made him have to relieve the desire he was feeling? Then why did he say he wouldn’t kiss me again?

When he moves his wrist faster, I have to stifle my sudden harsh breath with my hand. My eyes are glued to his body and although I should leave, I can’t. I just can’t. Jasper, doing this to himself, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The only thing stopping me from reaching between my own legs is my perverted fascination with wanting to watch him come. Oh, and of course the terror of getting caught.

His mouth opens, water filling it and overflowing when he tips his face into the spray. I want so much to be in there with him, share the water, and feel that mouth on my body, but I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. We seem to be dancing around the attraction we feel for each other. Like both of us are afraid to take that leap from a two-decade-old friendship to intimacy. Afraid perhaps of where it might lead, or maybe where it won’t.

I can’t be sure.

Then again, it could be that the ghosts that accompany us are just too strong to bear.

Soon he’s fucking into his fist with a deliberation that makes me weak at the knees, and I watch. I watch the way his muscles cord in his arms, the way his cock moves within the confines of his fist, the way his face contorts into pure pleasure.

Looking at Jasper, watching him about to come, it opens up something within me. The feeling is hard to describe and I can only think of one word that is fitting—primal.

His cock disappears inside his curled fingers and this stroke seems somehow more determined. Up, down, a twist around his crown, and then another twist. This time his head dips down, and then lowers still.

I press my thighs together to ward off the ache of arousal that is flooding me. I can’t hear him, but I wish I could. I know what he’s feeling, though, because I can see his mouth open and his face contort with satisfaction. He’s close. I can tell. And then soon enough, his taut belly strains, the muscles in his legs bunch, and then it happens—his desire jets out.

Never in my life have I wanted to make myself come like I do right in this moment. No, that’s not true. Never in my life have I wished for a man to take me the way I wish for Jasper to take me right now. Still, this is all kinds of wrong. I shouldn’t have watched him. I know this. Chiding myself, I lick salt from my upper lip and slowly, cautiously take a step back.

“Is there a show going on that I wasn’t invited to?”

That voice. I know that voice. The cynicism behind the tone.

Oh, God.

No. No. No.


 

About Kim Karr

 

 

Reader * Writer * Coffeelover * Romantic
Kim Karr is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She is a daydreamer. So much so that if daydreaming could be a hobby it would be her favorite. It’s how her stories are born and how they take root. An imagination that runs wild is something to be thankful for, and she is very thankful. :)
She grew up in New York and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and with the rest of her time embraces one of her biggest passions–writing.
Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read.
She likes to believe in soulmates, kindred spirits, true friends, and Happily-Ever-Afters. She loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.

 

Porn Star by Laurelin Paige & Sierra Simone….Excerpt Reveal

Porn Star - Excerpt Reveal
Release Date: March 8th

 

Synopsis:

You know me.

Come on, you know you do.

Maybe you pretend you don’t. Maybe you clear your browser history religiously. Maybe you pretend to be aghast whenever someone even mentions the word porn in your presence.

But the truth is that you do know me.

Everybody knows Logan O’Toole, world famous porn star.

Except then Devi Dare pops into my world, and pretty soon I’m doing things that aren’t like me—like texting her with flirty banter and creating an entire web porn series just so I can get to star in her bed. Again. And again.

With Devi, my entire universe shifts, and the more time I spend with her, the more I realize that Logan O’Toole isn’t the guy I thought he was.

So maybe I’m not the guy you thought I was either.

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Excerpt:

I spin around and throw my phone as hard as I can into the pool.

It lands with a small splash, sinking like a brushed-aluminum stone straight to the bottom. My momentary satisfaction is eclipsed by immense regret, because I just got that phone a few weeks ago. Fuck it, I can get a new one tomorrow. If that’s the price I have to pay to keep myself separate from Raven, then so be it.

I take a few healthy chugs of the Laphroaig.

“I hope you’ve got a good warranty,” a cheerful voice says from next to me. Even over the smoky scent of the whisky, I smell her. Cinnamon and sunshine.

I inelegantly swallow the Scotch still in my mouth, turning to face the person next to me. “Devi.”

She flashes me her sunny grin, and then returns the greeting by playfully bumping her shoulder against my arm. Heat flares across my bicep, emanating from the place where our bare skin touched, and the heat slowly migrates towards my chest, independent of the blood now pumping to my groin.

I am suddenly very aware of the fact that Devi and I have never been alone. Strange, given that we’ve given each other orgasms, but Raven’s Real Playdates was the only time we’ve worked together, and there are so many people on a porn set that it’s impossible to feel any sense of alone-ness, even when you’re staring them in the eyes while they suck you off. And even though we’ve seen each other at parties and events since then, we’ve only ever said hi or how are you or where’s the drinks? Not exactly the basis for a deep understanding of one another.

So I should probably explain why I just chucked a brand new phone into the water, and also maybe not reveal the fact that I have a massive crush on her.

I try to muster the casual, flirty guy I was earlier tonight. “Devi, I…”

I jack off to you almost every day.

“…I, uh, didn’t know anyone else was out here. Or I wouldn’t have, you know.” I mime throwing the phone.

She laughs and then bends down to unfasten her leather heel. “If it’s in a good case, it might still be okay,” she says. I watch, transfixed, as she kicks off both shoes, shimmies out of her shorts, and then walks to the edge of the pool. She’s wearing what legally might qualify as underwear, but only just barely.

Have I mentioned Devi Dare’s ass? Because I should. She has one of the best asses known to mankind. Plump and thick and juicy, the kind of ass that invites biting and squeezing, and the way it slopes out from her small waist is pure poetry. And those legs—despite the obvious muscles in her calves and thighs, they still move as she walks, like her ass does, and there’s something so healthy about it, so tantalizing about her body with its wide hips and slightly soft stomach and full breasts. She’s sexy in such a visceral, biological way, the kind of way that says you want to make babies with me. My cock lengthens as I watch her, tens of thousands of years of evolution telling me to haul her off and impregnate her.

She turns, hands on her hips. “Are you going to join me?”

“I was just enjoying the view,” I say, and it comes out a little too raspy, a little too honest, but then I follow it up with a weak grin and then she laughs and jumps into the pool. With a final gulp of whisky, I put the cork in the bottle and then fling myself in after her, clothes, shoes and all.

The water is cool and it’s the best kind of contrast to the dry heat of the night and the warmth of the Scotch in my stomach, and the new kind of warmth that’s agitating in my chest, something frictive and thrilling and pressing up against my anger and my broken heart. Something that started the moment Devi brushed up against my arm.

I jumped into the deep end, and so it’s a few beats before my feet press flat against the bottom and I can push myself back up. I break the surface, sputtering, and awkwardly try to swim over to Devi with one hand still clenched around my Scotch bottle. She treads water as steadily and gracefully as a water nymph, her long hair floating around her shoulders and her gold top drifting away from her skin, giving me just the barest glimpse of one nipple, dark rose and peaked into a tight furl. Water droplets cling to the thick fringe of her eyelashes.

“You’re not very good at swimming,” she points out as I make my way closer.

“Never liked it much,” I say, swimming past her and moving to where my feet can touch. With a sigh of relief, I set my feet down, examine the Scotch bottle to make sure no pool water leaked in, and then I take a long drink. I’m on my way to being drunk, but I’m intent on sealing the deal. What can I say? I’m a finisher.

Devi drifts up next to me, holding something in her hand. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my phone, the entire reason we spontaneously jumped into the pool in the first place. And somehow, miraculously, the pricey case the Apple Store girl talked me into buying has saved the phone. The screen still glows with my unwritten text message.

Somehow, between the pool and the Scotch and Devi Dare with no pants on, I’ve lost the urge to talk to Raven. I take the phone and toss it carelessly onto the concrete and then turn back to Devi.

You, on the other hand, seem like quite the swimmer,” I say with a smile, offering her the Scotch. She takes it and raises the bottle to her lips.

“I was raised in California, you know,” she says and then takes a drink.

“Well, so was I. But my parents are Boston transplants, so I guess they never saw swimming as a priority for me.”

She hands the bottle back to me. “I think I had floaties before I had a bicycle. My parents are very, uh…” She searches for the right words. “Natural people. They think it’s important to be periodically cleansed of negative energy, and flowing water is one of the best ways to do that. So we went swimming at least once a week.”

I can see the faintest blush coloring the apples of her cheeks, as if she’s embarrassed of what her parents believe. And then I wonder if she’s embarrassed because she believes it a little too.

God, that blush is so sexy. I want to lick it right off her face. And then pin her down and lick her everywhere.

She tilts her head to the sky. “You can see Cassiopeia tonight.”

I look up, following her gaze, but I see nothing other than the golden glow hovering above the city and a smattering of faint, twinkling stars. “Is Cassiopeia a constellation?” I venture.

She laughs and nods, and then she reaches over and takes my head in her hands. My pulse thrums, that warmth in my chest explodes into flames, and I want her to kiss me kiss me kiss me, but before I can turn my head to her, she trains my face to the sky, facing the right direction this time.

“Do you see it?” she asks. Her mouth is close to my neck, and I wonder what it would feel like if she bit me there. “It looks like a letter M.” She traces the shape of it with her fingers, until finally I see it–an underwhelming handful of tired stars.

“You can’t see it this far into the city sometimes,” she continues.

“Cassiopeia sounds like a porn name,” I say frankly and she laughs again.

“Ptolemy named it.”

I give her a blank look. I got pretty good grades in school, but it’s been more than ten years since graduation, and anything not intimately related to film or the kind of math I need to run my business has been filtered out of my brain.

“Ptolemy was a Greek astronomer,” she explains, giving me an amused glance. “He named it after a famous queen in Greek mythology. She was so beautiful and vain and boastful that she brought the wrath of Poseidon down on her kingdom.”

Beautiful, vain, boastful. My mind swerves back to Raven, possibly still in this very house, possibly still being screwed with that evil smile on her face. Where is Poseidon when you need him?

No.

No, I won’t let Raven crowd into my happy, drunk moment with Devi and the Scotch. I speak as much to drive away thoughts of my ex as to comment on Devi’s astronomy knowledge. “You know a lot about this shit,” I tell her, turning my eyes back to her face completely.

And now she really blushes. “I really like astronomy. Stars and galaxies and stuff. It makes life feel so…big…you know?”

The thing is, I do know. That big feeling, I mean. I get it every time I watch an amazing film, every time I imagine my own films with just the right setting and just the right cinematography and just the right score.

“I’ve never met a performer who’s told me anything like that,” I say. And it’s true. Not once have I been around another adult film star and had them confess a purely impractical fascination. A call toward something that makes them feel like life is magical.

She blinks, and the way her long, thick eyelashes brush against her wet cheeks is arresting. “Really?”

“Really. Devi Dare, I do believe you are my first.”


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About the Authors:


Laurelin Paige
is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She’s a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters.

Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City

 

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Laurelin Paige

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Sierra Simone

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Until It’s Right by Jamie Howard…Release Day & Review

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ABOUT THE BOOK:

Haley Mitchell is tired of moping. With her broken heart repaired with a thick layer of duct tape, she’s ready to put her ex behind her and move on. After a chance encounter in a club, she’s convinced she’s met Mr. Perfect. But when he accidentally gives her the wrong number, the stranger on the other end of her texts becomes her confidant.

Kyle Lawson has always had more luck with computers than women. So when the new temp, Haley, arrives, he has the misfortune of falling for her, only to land firmly in the friend zone. But when he learns the mysterious woman he’s been texting is actually Haley, he keeps the entire thing a secret.

As things move straight from platonic to decidedly not, Kyle must decide whether coming clean about his secret texting identity is worth possibly losing the woman he’s fallen in love with.

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REIVEW:

Until It’s Rights is the first book I have written by Jamie Howard.  The blurb caught my attention when she asked if I could review it but I won’t lie  say that I wasn’t getting my hopes up for anything.  And she proved that she is definitely worth taking the chance on!

I really enjoyed the story of Kyle and Hayley.  They “meet” due to a wrong number fiasco.  They chat here and there about things in their life but nothing ever moves beyond that friend zone.  But it’s in these texts that Kyle learns who Hayley is.  And it’s from there that things get really interesting.

One thing that I absolutely enjoyed about Jamie’s writing is that she doesn’t string things out.  She quickly gets to the meat of the story but still building the perfect plot.  Everything flows naturally and you really get to like these characters. 

The dual POV’s is perfect for this book.  You really get a feel for these characters and she writs that characters very well.  I love the dialogue and the added humor.  Makes everything come together and the story so life like.

Anyone who is a huge romance fan and loves the mushy feelings throughout the book – this one is definitely right up your alley. 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Jamie Howard spends her days as a legal and compliance specialist. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Art from Ramapo College. When she’s not tapping away at the keyboard, you can find her devouring books and perfecting her gaming skills. She lives with her husband, son, and three dogs in New Jersey, and is almost always awake early enough to see the sun rise, even on the weekends.