Meet Till & Eliza in Aly Martinez’s newest fighter series!

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Synopsis

Sound is an abstract concept for most people. We spend our lives blocking out the static in order to focus on what we believe is important. But what if, when the clarity fades into silence, it’s the obscure background noise that you would give anything to hold on to?

I’ve always been a fighter. With parents who barely managed to stay out of jail and two little brothers who narrowly avoided foster care, I became skilled at dodging the punches life threw at me. Growing up, I didn’t have anything I could call my own, but from the moment I met Eliza Reynolds, she was always mine.  I became utterly addicted to her and the escape from reality we provided each other. Throughout the years, she had boyfriends and I had girlfriends, but there wasn’t a single night that I didn’t hear her voice.

You see, meeting the love of my life at age thirteen was never part of my plan. However, neither was gradually going deaf at the age of twenty-one.

They both happened anyway.

Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life.

Fighting for my career.

Fighting the impending silence.

Fighting for her.

Every night, just before falling asleep, she sighs as a final conscious breath leaves her.

I think that’s the sound I’ll miss the most.

Review

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.

Since he was born, Till Page has had to fight – fight the silence, the loneliness, the bitterness, and the hatred for his situation, and since he was thirteen years old, he’s fought the reality of his circumstances by escaping it, by entering a fantasy world where everything’s okay as long as he has Eliza Reynolds – his Doodle by his side, blocking everything else out.

Like Till, Eliza’s home life is absolute shit. She’s not even a blimp on her parents’ radar, so she does what she has to do to make a life for herself both in and outside the fantasy that she created with Till. Through everything, Eliza has always been Till’s biggest supporter – the one person in his corner he can count on regardless of the shitstorm life throws at them.

But all fantasies eventually come to an end, and when reality merges with the world that Till’s created with Eliza and threatens to unhinge his sense of survival, he rebels, fighting against the one thing…the one person who he should never battle with because in doing so, he risks losing his whole reason for fighting and usurping any chance he has to overcome the obstacles that he and his brothers face.

As much as I wanted to yell at Till to wake up and face his reality head on, it makes perfect sense why he needs and uses that window and that abandoned apartment as an escape and why he needed to keep Eliza separate from any other aspect of his life. Till is a proud man doing everything he can to deal with the hand he and his brothers have been dealt. But what he doesn’t realize until much later is that Eliza sustains him in a way that makes his life bearable despite the hell that he goes through. I love that Aly truly makes readers understand Till’s conflict and torment…the anguish he feels when he pushes Eliza away and the aching need he feels every day without her. Till is an incredible hero; he steps up not only for himself and Eliza, but he also does it for his brothers. He could have given up on numerous occasions, and no one would have blamed him. But the true character of a fighter is one who fights despite all the odds stacked up against him, and Till lives and breathes those characteristics.

I read and review a lot of stories, and what separates the good ones from the great ones is the heroine. Eliza has the true heart of a fighter, and she’ll fight for what she believes in until the bitter end, even when the person she’s fighting for becomes part of the battle. Eliza is extremely selfless, but she also doesn’t allow anyone to abuse her. She knows everything there is to know about Till and she gives herself to him completely, but unlike Till, she understands the reality of the situation as well, and she refuses to be used for an escape because she demands and deserves the reality of their love.

I absolutely loved Till and Eliza’s story, and the fact that it spans over a decade. What they fight through both together and as individuals proves the inner strength that people have, even when they’re sick of fighting. Till and Eliza are fantastic main characters, but what also makes Fighting Silence an amazing read are the secondary characters that surround Till and Eliza’s lives. They are just as pivotal to the success of the text as Till and Eliza because they add an extra layer to the plot and the relationships that exist in it. The ending is bittersweet for me because of the complications that arise at the end, but the idea of never giving up is definitely at the forefront of this text.

I would totally be up for a book or two about the other Page boys – there’s so much to say about Flint and Quarry and who they are that I would be the first in line to one-click their texts.

A complimentary copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.

5 poison apples

Excerpt

“I swear to fucking God,” I snarled as I stomped a pattern around Eliza’s hospital room. She had just been wheeled out, but my anger and anxiety filled the room in her absence.

“Calm. Down,” Slate said from the doorway. “It’s no big deal. I’ll get it back.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, get your shit together and remember who the hell you are talking to.”

Eliza didn’t have insurance, and she had freaked when the doctor told her that he wanted to run a CAT scan because of the trauma to her face and head. She’d flat-out refused, spouting off some crap about not going into debt by racking up a huge hospital bill she’d eventually have to pay. She’d sworn she was okay, but I’d absolutely not been anything even resembling okay.

So I’d lost it. I’d snapped at her like a fucking asshole. Then I’d shouted at the doctor for reasons that didn’t even make sense. In turn, he threatened to call security, which only pissed me off more. It was a clusterfuck in that room until Slate came in and physically pinned me against the wall. While I was trying to get my shit under control, Erica was apparently informing administration that she and Slate would be financially responsible for Eliza’s hospital visit. While I was relieved as they wheeled her out of the room, I was sick and fucking tired of feeling like a broke-ass, worthless dick all the time. As it often was, my anger was aimed in the wrong place, and Slate was the only man in the room.

“Get my shit together?” My heart pounded in my chest, and every muscle in my body strained under the mounting stress. “I’d like to see how the hell you’d react if Erica looked like that and there wasn’t a fucking thing in the world you could do to help her.”

Slate’s eyes turned dark as his jaw clenched. “It was different. But I’ve been there,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It was the worst day of my life. I wasn’t even the one who got to make the piece of shit pay either. But honestly, Till, sometimes you have to accept that it’s not the way things get done or who does them. As long as, in the end, they are done. She’s getting that CAT scan right now, and you can sleep easy tonight knowing that she’s okay. It doesn’t matter one bit who signs the check that pays for that kind of peace of mind.”

“It matters to me. You have no fucking idea how it feels to be so goddamn helpless all the time. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve only truly had her for less then twenty-four hours and I’ve already failed to fucking protecting her and provide for her. My boxing trainer had to pay for her medical bills. It’s embarrassing!”

“It’s only embarrassing if you let it be.” He shrugged and settled into the chair next to the door.

I continued to pace. I couldn’t get over the heavy weight of failure compressing my chest. “Why the fuck would she want to settle for someone like me? I failed out of high school. I work sixty-three hours a week for minimum wage so that I can barely pay the bills on a shithole apartment. For fuck’s sake, I have two brothers I want to give the world, but last week, she had to buy us groceries. Oh, and there is always that fun fact that I’m going deaf. One day, she really will have to take care of me! I can’t handle knowing that she has to settle for a future filled with struggles just to be with me. I love her. I really fucking do. But at what point do I let her go because I know she’d have a better life with someone else?” I finished my rant on a yell.

“Wow. You have a really gone off the deep end. She’s not some puppy you can find a better home for.” He stretched his legs out and crossed them at his ankles.

If possible, it managed to piss me off more. I was in emotional upheaval and he was getting comfortable.

“Just leave me alone. I can’t deal with your shit right now.”

“You want to go pro?” he asked randomly.

“What I want is for you to leave.”

“Is that a no?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Nothing has changed. I still don’t have the time. Honestly, I think I need to give up boxing altogether. Maybe try to find another job or something.”

“I’ll bankroll eight hundred a week. Quit your jobs and come work for me in the ring. It comes with health insurance for you and the boys too.”

I stared at him, awestruck. That was double what I was bringing home each week.

I’d always heard that you couldn’t judge a man’s character by the balance in his bank account. Thank fuck for that because character might be the only place I wasn’t overdrawn. And right then, Slate’s offer sounded a whole lot like pity. No matter how appealing it sounded, I wanted to make it without having to rely on anyone else. I couldn’t afford to sacrifice character.

“Why are you doing this right now? What part of that conversation confused you? I don’t want your charity.”

“It’s not charity. I’m gonna make a shit-ton of money off your ass. This isn’t a free ride. I’ll get all of your winnings until you’ve paid me back. Then anything you make over that, I get thirty-three percent. Erica’s been eyeing this condo on the beach in Florida. I’m hoping you can help me out and buy that for her.”

Outstanding. Slate wants to buy a condo on the beach and I just want to keep the electricity on.

“It has to be hard being you.” My voice dripped with sarcasm, but it only made Slate smile.

“I guess you won’t know until you try. I made every single penny I have from boxing. If you think money will solve all your problems, then put whatever preconceived notions you have about my motives aside and take my offer. But if you decide to refuse, you should know I won’t make it again.”

“Why now? Less than a month ago, you told me I wasn’t ready. Where was your offer to bankroll me then?”

“I’m not going to lie to you. You’re not ready. Not if you want to be great. But with enough time, I can get you there. You’re raw right now, and despite whatever you think, you’re driven by something greater than the almighty dollar or dreams of stardom.” He stood up and walked over to me. “To answer your question about why now, I was wrong. You’re not hungry for more in life. You’re fucking starving. I can work with that.

“Did you even listen to yourself while you were talking? Not one single thing you said was because Till Page wanted more money or a nicer car. You were concerned about Eliza and the boys…but never Till.” He poked my chest right over my heart. “I’m making an investment in you, Till. It’s no handout. I believe you’re going to set the boxing world on fire, because every time you put on those gloves, you’re doing it for them. Say yes. Accept the offer. Quit your jobs. Take a week off to take care of her. Then get your ass in my ring.”

I had no words. If I spoke, I was going to look like a sniffling little bitch. So I nodded instead.

“Good. I’m going to find Erica and get some coffee. I’ll send over the contracts and your first paycheck in the morning.” He turned and headed for the door.

I stood in the middle of an empty hospital room where my fantasy and reality had collided. Finally, I had the break I had dreamed of, but it had taken almost losing Eliza to get it. I would forever remember the way I felt in that moment. Cracking my neck and shaking out my arms, I decided I was done letting the world run over me.

Slate had just handed me my one chance to make a better life, and I was going in with gloves blazing. For the first time in my fucking life, I was climbing through the ropes.

About the Author

Aly Martinez

Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.

After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.

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Sneak Peek: Prologue + Chapter 1

Very Twisted Things

A Standalone Briarcrest Academy Novel #3

by New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills

Release Date: March 1, 2015

This is a standalone New Adult novel with graphic sex and language.

Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!

 

A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.

Description

Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.

But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.

After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.

Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who’s lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.

He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.

When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.

 

Prologue

Violet

“Fairy dust is not real. This I know.” —from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

Boom!

I, Violet St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust.

At the very least, comet residue.

I’d foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death.

Which was now.

Boom! Another explosion rocked the plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished. Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss.

I watched, helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of the New York Times featured pictures of us on a monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane.

Reality dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on schedule.

Then the first explosion had gone off.

Bits of debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace. Fear and then horror flickered across his face as he saw Mother, but there was no time to comfort him.

Paralyzed in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

Just then my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit. God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left. Would the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me?

The air was turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger, faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan. Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly.

My fear escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone.

Water everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left.

I swam from my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding. Burning. I’d been under too long.

Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt above me and kicked harder.

Up, up, up. Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it. Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the water.

The hottest fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching.

Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to the top. Please.

My body rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and more, the cold liquid filling my lungs.

Dark spots filled my eyes. This was drowning.

Exhausted.

Done.

My body twitched. I grew disoriented.

I let go of the fight. My hands floated in front of me.

Oblivion.

Darkness.

No bright lights, no tunnel.

No heaven, no mother, no father.

No comets.

No fairy dust.

Chapter 1

Sebastian

Two years later

“She was music with skin.” —Sebastian Tate

I tapped my foot.

What was taking her so long?

From my backyard patio in the Hollywood Hills, I watched the odd girl next door with a pair of high-powered binoculars. She flicked on her porch lights, and a low whistle came out of me at the sexy red-as-sin robe she wore, its silky material flashing around her long legs as she moved around her patio. Her hair was down, too.

This was new. Where were the usual yoga pants? The ponytail?

She looked like she knew someone watched, but that was impossible since our outside lights were off. Even the light from the moon hit our house at such an angle that she shouldn’t be able to see us just by glancing over. She’d need a high-powered lens to know I was here.

Usually she played facing her rose garden, but this time she walked to the right side of her patio, which faced us. Weird. But she didn’t play. She just stood there without moving. Staring toward our house. Uneasiness went over me.

What was she doing?

Could she see me?

As if it were a fragile bird, she positioned the violin under her chin and began playing, arms bent and wrist poised, making the most exquisite sounds. And I don’t mean classical like Beethoven or Mozart; I mean body-thrashing, blood-thumping, hard-as-hell music that had me rooted to the ground, like she’d slapped iron chains on me.

Dark and seductive notes rose up in the air, and I got jacked up, recognizing a Led Zeppelin song, only she’d ripped its guts out and twisted it into something electric. She pushed the bow hard, upping the tempo abruptly, her movements controlled yet wild. My pulse kicked up and my eyes lingered, taking in the slightly parted toned legs and the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her arms to manipulate the strings.

Her body arched forward in a curve, seeming as if she might break into a million pieces before she finished the piece or climaxed first. Then, her robe slipped off her right shoulder, exposing part of her breast. Creamy and full, it quivered, vibrating as she moved her arms. Her rosy nipple teased me, slipping in and out of the folds of the material, erect from the cool mountain air and deliciously bitable. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her like my guitar until she begged me to—

Stop, I told myself just as an appreciative groan came out. Whoever Violin Girl was, she didn’t deserve me lusting after her while she was pouring her heart out with music.

I zoomed in as far as the binoculars would go, watching her surrender to the music as she bent and swayed from side to side with her eyes closed, black lashes like fans on her cheeks. Every molecule in my body focused on her, hanging on to each note she pulled from her instrument.

She finished and kept her head bowed for the longest time, perhaps letting the emotion wash over her like it had me. Then, she bowed to the banana trees and gnomes in her garden, waving her hands in a flourish as she rose.

The entire event was surreal, yet poignant as fucking poetry.

I let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.

Who the hell plays Stairway to Heaven with a violin? She did.

Bam! She snapped her head up, her eyes lasering in on mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention.

And then …

Standing there in the moonlight, she untied her robe and spread apart the sides ever so slightly, her movements seeming almost hesitant, as if she’d had to work herself up. Unfamiliar jealousy hit me and I panned out and checked the rest of the patio, expecting to see a lover. Whoever it was, I wanted to rip him apart piece by piece.

And didn’t that thought surprise me.

My gaze searched her patio, the backyard, her upstairs balcony. Nothing. No one.

She flicked her dark hair back and stroked the lapels of the robe, her fingers lingering over the lacy material. Suddenly the evening smacked of something more than just music. Her arms moved back and forth across the front, opening the robe halfway and then closing it as if she couldn’t make up her mind.

My eyes went up, trying to read her face. Still as a statue, the only movement was her mouth as it trembled, her full upper lip resting against the pouty lower one. Tears ran down her face, but they seemed more of a defiant act, her jaw tightly set, her shoulders hunched inward as if she’d held it in too long and was giving in, but not without a fight.

Violin Girl was trapped in a cage of darkness.

It still didn’t stop me from holding my breath, silently begging her to bare herself to me. She’d already laid bare her music. Part of me needed the rest of her.

She jerked the robe closed, making me groan in disappointment.

And then she did something completely crazy.

The lonely girl next door flipped me the bird.

© Ilsa Madden-Mills 2015 Very Twisted Things

 

Author Bio

New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.

When she’s not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.

She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.

BUY HER BOOKS HERE

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Blurb

Forensic accountant Annie Griffin has always suspected she’s a bit jinxed, so when she finds herself 35, single, temporarily homeless, and pregnant on a technicality by a gigolo, her fears are confirmed.

Adrenaline junkie and professional stuntman Max Bowen needs a house-sitter to watch after his pets while he’s out of town. Annie needs a place to stay. Standard quid pro quo. No biggie. She can handle that, whatever hellhounds he owns. Until Max, the most sought-after bachelor in the county, comes back ahead of schedule and suddenly she’s roommates with a 27-year old sex God who turns out to be so much more than what she expected.

Max might have had the attention span of a humming bird on crack when it comes to women, but that was before Annie. Her quirkiness and sweet contradictions soon captivate him, not that she’s inclined to give him the time of the day. With his reputation preceding him, he knows the odds are badly stacked against him, but he will do his best to prove her that he’s what she needs, stuck-up socialite grandmothers, doomsday preppers, groupies, pregnancy hormones, and repentant biological dads be damned.

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1zSQoJ6

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AgchDW

BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/to-the-max-elle-aycart/1121201147?ean=9781623007676

Review

There’s just something about these Bowen brothers that draws me in from the first page; it may be their dashing good looks, their filthy mouths, or their ability to woo and seduce with every single aspect of their bodies and their words. In all honesty, it’s the whole package that makes me a Bowen groupie, and while both James and Cole definitely had me sighing and aching all through their books, there’s just something about Max Bowen that puts him as my favorite Bowen brother.

Max Bowen is the ultimate ladies’ man…the last of the brothers on the market and boy does he take advantage of the bevy of beauties who throw themselves at him on a daily basis. But Max is so much more than a groupie magnet and a thrill seeker and that shines through in every interaction that he has with Annie Griffin from the start of the text. Max has always felt comfortable with Annie and the easy going relationship that they’ve had, but when she needs a place to stay while her apartment is being renovated, Max offers up his house, selflessly helping a friend but also creating a relationship that turns into something Max wants desperately despite how much Annie doubts anything romantic can happen between them.

Annie Griffin is a 35 year old woman pregnant by a one night stand with a gigolo. If that doesn’t make her life complicated enough, her family tree is beyond complicated and a bit crazy, leaving this serial dater to wonder if she’ll ever find the man of her dreams. Max Bowen was never a guy on her radar because he’s eight years younger, a total player, and at a completely different phase in his life, but when they end up becoming roommates, an amazing friendship develops, which then turns into something that Max can’t get enough of but also something that Annie’s too afraid to fully give into because she doesn’t see how two people who couldn’t be more different can have something together that lasts.

I absolutely loved To the Max. The storyline flows seamlessly, taking Max and Annie from friends to lovers gradually. Their relationship develops and expands through the first 50% of the book, which leaves no doubt in readers’ minds that they know what they’re getting into as they give into their true feelings for one another.

Max and Annie are extremely well developed characters. Max is an amazing hero who proves to Annie that he’s worth the risk. He doesn’t instantly change who he is or what he wants in life; that transformation progresses the more time he spends with Annie and finds himself thinking about her constantly and wanting to be no other place than by her side.

Elle Aycart illustrates Annie’s fears and hesitancies to start anything with Max honestly, and she also shows the type of man Max is by his efforts to assuage Annie’s insecurities and prove to her that he can be everything she needs.

I loved watching Max with his Ace. The progression of their relationship was perfect, especially due to the circumstances, and the steam, suspense, and drama added to the storyline kept me invested until the very end. The epilogue was absolutely perfect, showing the Bowens clan in all their glory and making me fall in love with them even more.

A complimentary copy was provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.

5 poison apples

Bowen Series Reading Order

More than Meets the Ink (Bowen, #1)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1BHLGvQ

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AddDA2

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1DjeSLD

iTunes: http://bit.ly/1BLgSg5

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1yVS0xC

 

Heavy Issues (Bowen #2)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1ymbIUo

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1yZFYrN

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1vn91q6

iTunes: http://bit.ly/1tN4oEo

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DjiFbW

 

Inked Ever After (Bowen, #2.5)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1yVIYkq

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1AddNYq

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1DshXJJ

iTunes: http://bit.ly/1HB27mj

Kobo: http://bit.ly/16duB52

 

About the Author

After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to  flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do  when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff.

While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.

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The Dating Game

The Worst Date by Robin Covington

My worst date was a blind date my mother set up for me when I was a junior in high school. The guy was a senior at another local Catholic High School and he needed a date for his senior prom. I didn’t know the guy and I didn’t want to go but my mom made me and it was terrible. The guy was strange, snorted when he talked, and immediately grew about four sets of grabby hands because in his world “blind date” meant “losing-his-virginity”. To make it worse, his friends at our table consisted of a guy who didn’t have a date and proceeded to eat the food off both plates at dinner and a couple who were getting married after graduation because she was pregnant and they spend the night pointing out the baby stuff they’d picked out from the JC Penney catalog. It was the only blind date I ever had.

About Robin Covington

Robin Covington, who NYT Best Selling authors, Robyn Carr and Carly Phillips, said was their new “auto-buy author”, writes sizzling hot contemporary and paranormal romance.

A Night of Southern Comfort, her best-selling debut novel was a 2012 finalist in the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice Awards, earned 4.5 stars and was touted by RT Book Reviews as bringing a “fresh, modern feel to the genre while still sticking to the things that get our adrenaline pumping — sex and danger”. When she’s not exploring the theme of fooling around and falling in love, she’s collecting tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and stalking Joe Manganiello.

Robin is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Washington and Maryland Romance Writers, a faculty member at Romance University, a member of the Waterworld Mermaids, and a contributor to the Happy Ever After blog at USA Today. You can find Robin on her website, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter (@RobinCovington).

Robin lives in Maryland with her hilarious husband, brilliant children, and ginormous puppy.

Website: http://robincovingtonromance.com/

Twitter: @RobinCovington

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RobinCovingtonAuthor?fref=ts

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5812874.Robin_Covington

 

Worst Date Ever – Told by A.J. from Unlike Any Other by Claudia Burgoa (coming 3/5/2015)

How in the hell did they talk me into this?

No, why did I agree?

I stare at the brunette across the table who keeps blabbing about her ability to read minds—I think she’s still at that. No doubt her abilities only touch a few, because my mind keeps screaming at her: “Shut Up!”

Jacob and Ainsley are going to pay for this shit. No only Ainsley, she came up this idea of all going out on dates during Valentine’s Day. We humor her because these days she’s… explosive, sensitive and… we work hard so she stays in a zen state of mind.

Nonetheless, my worst mistake was letting my sister find me a date.

A wacko case that keeps yapping about aliens, her being a witch and having her ex-boyfriends under her spell because they broke up with her.

“Do you believe in werewolves?” she whispers leaning closer to the table. Those words drag my attention back at her. “Because I think I’m one of them.”

MJ: Worst date ever! You’re going to pay for this AJ!

AJ: Be pleasant!

JC: Can’t be worse than mine. My date wants to go to Vegas after this—to elope. Where did you find them Ainsley Janine?

AJ: My date wants the two of you to leave us alone. He’s taking away my phone, bye!

“It’s only a bite… and I’ll drink some of your blood. You’ll drink some of mine.” She smirks while licking her upper lip. “During the full moon, then we can be free and run along the forest. You’ll do it for me, right?”

At first sight, this girl gave me a good vibe. Her brown eyes; long brown locks with a timid smile emanated innocence. Nothing wrong with her, I even play with the idea of having a second date—if she’s a good fuck. Now …

“Can you excuse me for one second?” I tilt towards the restrooms, lift my napkin, set it on the table and jet off towards the exit. “I really have to go.”

Before you delusional-crazy-chick attack me or… whatever.

Crazy bitch!

About Author

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

Website: http://www.meghanmarch.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MeghanMarchAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Meghan_March
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8184875.Meghan_March

About Claudia Burgoa

Born on the mystical day of October 30th in the not so mystical lands of Mexico City, Claudia grew up with a childhood that resembled a caffeine-injected soap opera. Seventeen years ago she ventured to the lands of her techie husband—a.k.a. the U.S.—with their offspring to start a new adventure.

She now lives in Colorado working as a CFO for a small IT company, managing her household filled with three confused dogs, said nerd husband, two daughters wrought with fandoms and a son who thinks he’s the boss of the house. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.

Website: http://www.claudiayburgoa.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ClaudiaYBurgoa

Twitter: https://twitter.com/yuribeans

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7202946.Claudia_Y_Burgoa

The Date Game
Kate Canterbary, Carly Phillips

My Worst Date – Carly Phillips

This isn’t my worst date … but then again I don’t have all that many. I wasn’t exactly your serial dater.

I met a guy in college back in 1984, my sophomore year in college. I wore flash dance off the shoulder tops, had big hair (okay that hasn’t changed too much), and I had finally agreed to date him despite his reputation (he and his friends could scare any good girl off – and I was a good girl. Make that GOOD girl.)  Date day? February 14^th …

The weekend before I flew to Florida to visit my parents. My bright idea? Get tan before the big date. The end result? I looked awesome. Until that tan started to peel. Then crack. And I do mean crack since it was hard to actually talk. I kept moisturizing and praying … it wasn’t pretty (although he never said a word) … and in the end we were going out as a real couple.

End result? I married him. 25 years this past July. He’s my best friend and my rock so I guess things work out the way they were meant to be!

About Carly Phillips:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips has written over 40 sexy contemporary romance novels that today’s readers identify with and enjoy. After a successful 15 year career with various New York publishing houses, Carly is making the leap to Indie author, with the goal of giving her readers more books at a faster pace at a better price. Her Serendipity books will still finish up in January/February 2014 via Berkley as planned. Carly lives in Purchase, NY with her family, two nearly adult daughters and two crazy dogs who star on her Facebook Fan Page and website. She’s a writer, a knitter of sorts, a wife, and a mom. In addition, she’s a Twitter and Internet junkie and is always around to interact with her readers. You can find all information about Carly at her website and other social media sites:

www.carlyphillips.com
https://www.facebook.com/CarlyPhillipsFanPage

https://twitter.com/carlyphillips

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10000.Carly_Phillips?from_search=true

My Worst Date…from Shannon Walsh – The Walsh Series by Kate Canterbary

My worst date? Ha. That’s a good one. These days, it seems like each date is orders of magnitude worse than the one before it.

There was the guy who arrived with scrambled egg all over his shirt and tie. He claimed he’d been running late that morning, and couldn’t change. It didn’t bother him that he looked like he’d lived through a food fight. I walked away from that harbinger of horrors after one drink.

There was the married guy who failed to mention his nuptial situation until his phone vibrated across the table and the name on his screen read ‘WIFE.’ I stared at the pretty brunette’s photo for a moment before wishing him luck with spineless infidelity.

There was the urban farmer who was definitely growing and selling weed to keep his baby kale business going. I gave him my defense attorney friend’s business card, and told him to call when he was arrested.

There was the little boy who added at least ten years to the age on his online dating profile and didn’t appear capable of sprouting facial hair if his life depended on it. He was dressed for a frat party, and smelled like he’d bathed in Axe body spray and then rolled around the subway platform after a Red Sox game. He ordered a green apple martini, and I silently prayed for the apocalypse when he was carded but couldn’t locate his ID.

There was the rich homeless dude. Apparently, he determined that he spent the vast majority of his time traveling for work as a venture capitalist, and didn’t like wasting money on an apartment. When he hasn’t on the road, he hopped between his friends’ apartments. Oh, and the beds of women he casually screwed. Once I determined he didn’t have a place to stay that weekend, I asked him to delete my number.

But I keep at it. One Manolo in front of the other.

Kate Canterbary doesn’t have it all figured out, but this is what she knows for sure: spicy-ass salsa and tequila solve most problems, living on the ocean–Pacific or Atlantic–is the closest place to perfection, and writing smart, smutty stories is a better than any amount of chocolate. She started out reporting for an indie arts and entertainment newspaper back when people still read newspapers, and she has been writing and surreptitiously interviewing people–be careful sitting down next to her on an airplane–ever since. Kate lives on the water in New England with Mr. Canterbary and the Little Baby Canterbary, and when she isn’t writing sexy architects, she’s scheduling her days around the region’s best food trucks.

Underneath It All

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00OPCH6D8

BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/underneath-it-all-kate-canterbary/1120621453?ean=9780990957317

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/485830

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/underneath-it-all/id931595763?ls=1&mt=11

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/underneath-it-all-12

Underneath It All – The Walsh Series #1 

If I had known I’d have a hot architect balls deep inside of me before the end of the weekend, I’d have made time for a pedicure. Also, a little chat about not losing my shit at all the wrong moments.
Hindsight was a bitch, and karma…well, I didn’t know her story yet.

Meet Lauren Halsted.
It’s all the little things—the action plans, the long-kept promises—that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos.

After I fell ass-over-elbow into Matthew Walsh’s arms.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming.

Meet Matthew Walsh.
A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and woven through too many good girl layers to count, and she wasn’t letting anyone tell her what to do.

Unless, of course, she was naked.

She wasn’t looking for me and I sure as shit wasn’t looking for her, but we found each other anyway and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.

Sometimes the universe conspires to bring people together. Other times, it throws them down a flight of stairs and leaves them in a bruised and bloodied heap.

The Space Between

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00OBJ46SI

BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-space-between-kate-canterbary/1120724561?ean=9781503198005

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/491070
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-space-between/id945211454?ls=1&mt=11

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-space-between-21

The Space Between – The Walsh Series #2

Some lines are meant to be crossed.

Patrick
That hair.

That fucking hair.

It was everywhere, always, and I wanted to tangle my fingers in those dark curls and pull.

And that would be fine if she wasn’t my apprentice.

Andy Asani was nothing like I expected. She was exotic and scary-brilliant, and the slightest murmur from those lips sent hot, hungry lust swirling through my veins. Outside my siblings, she was the only person I could name who shared my obsession with preserving Boston’s crumbling buildings.

Andy
My wants were few: good eats, tall boots, sweaty yoga, interesting work. One incredibly hot architect with the most expressive hazel eyes I ever encountered and entirely too much talent in and out of the bedroom wasn’t part of the original plan. Apparently he was part of the package.

Wine was my rabbi and vodka was my therapist, and I needed plenty of both to survive my apprenticeship. Especially with Patrick Walsh leaving love notes in the form of bite marks all over my body.

*This is the second book in The Walshes Series, though it reads as a stand-alone novel.

The Dating Game

 Avery Flynn, Jillian Neal

Worst Date or Best Date: You Decide

By Avery Flynn

What is the worst date you ever had?

I had to ponder that for a while…for a good LONG while because crappy dates were my pre-married specialty. Seriously. I could have gone with Mr. Arm Porn who’s middle name was Not So Bright. Or I could have gone with the bartender *cough* bartenders *cough*. But in the end I had to go with the date that never was.

In college I had a huge thing for a certain ginger in one of my classes … yes, I’m a sucker for gingers. There was tons of flirting and a date was set and then he ditched me. He just never showed to pick me up. Ow!

Yes, let’s all say that together: OW!

Luckily, my friends are pretty kickass and took me out anyway. Later on, he told me that he suddenly remembered he had a girlfriend and didn’t know how to tell me. *insert epic eye roll here* After that, I realized him ditching me was me dodging a bullet.

About Avery Flynn:

Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.

Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

Website: http://averyflynn.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AveryFlynnAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/@averyflynn

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4894804.Avery_Flynn

You are Going to Have to Pay for That! By Jillian Neal

Many years ago, fourteen to be exact, I was oh so very, very pregnant. I no longer had the cute baby bump or that refreshing glow of pregnancy. Oh no, I was eight and a half months pregnant, and so full of my precious son that I could no longer see my feet.

It happened to be Valentine’s Day. I’d spent the morning at the OB’s office being measured, “You still have a few weeks to go, and you’re already measuring 41 weeks, Jillian.”

I bit my tongue to keep from asking her just what she’d like me to do about that. Anyone that could see their feet became my mortal enemy.

You see, I am barely 5” tall. My husband, however, is 6’4” and weighed almost 10lbs. at his birth. Our sons took after him. I was so full of baby I couldn’t eat. I had heartburn so badly I tried to sleep sitting up. I couldn’t even draw a full breath. I was completely miserable.

My darling husband, being ever wary of my moods, came home from work early and suggested that we go out since it was Valentine’s, after all. He happened to arrive in the kitchen just as I was trying to reach something in a cabinet. My belly wouldn’t allow me to get close enough to fetch whatever I was after. He quickly sought to help. I burst into tears.

He, once again, tried to console me. Blubbering and hissing I took him into our laundry room and showed him the still wet socks stuck to the bottom of the washing machine, that I couldn’t reach to put in the dryer, because of my girth.

After rectifying the sock situation, he continued to placate, “Let’s just go out to eat. We’ll get out of the house for a little while. Get your mind off everything.”

I glared.

His eyes turned pleading, and I finally relented.

We changed clothes, and once I managed to locate shoes that my swollen feet would fit inside of, I waddled to our car. I left my purse at home. I didn’t care.

Now, finding a restaurant that would seat us on Valentine’s without a reservation became a concern. “I would have made reservations, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to go out.” DH apologized repeatedly. I stared out the windshield like the world had deeply offended me.

We were young and had only been married a few years, so Olive Garden was quite a treat. We didn’t go out to eat very often. I might’ve even managed a half-smile as he pulled in the parking lot with a hopeful smile.

However, we were definitely not the only couple that had decided on Olive Garden as their Valentine meal locale. DH shot infuriated glares at the men seated in the waiting area until one of them finally relented and stood so that I could sit down.

Since, I have always had stories swimming in my head, before I ever began to actually write, I imagined all of the rude men that regarded me more like a beached whale and less like an extremely pregnant woman, being doused with spaghetti sauce and meatballs from a clumsy waiter. This, of course, didn’t actually happen, much to my chagrin.

When “Neal” finally rang from the maître d, DH helped me up and guided me to our table, a booth. I did somehow manage to get into the tiny space, but it was dicey for a few minutes.

We ordered, and I ate. Somehow, the baby shifted a little and allowed me to feel how hungry I really was. DH ordered me more food and managed to talk me into a better mood. He told me how beautiful I was, and how he couldn’t wait to be a daddy, and offered to pick up ice cream on the way home.

I loaded pasta into my mouth and decided that maybe this wouldn’t be such a horrible Valentine’s Day.

That is until the waitress brought the check. DH reached into his back pocket and then his eyes goggled in terror! “I don’t have my wallet! It’s in the pants I wore to work!”

I’d left my purse at home. We had no way to pay for the very large dinner that we’d consumed! Now, remember, this was long before we had cell phones or access to our bank accounts from any wi-fi hotspot. All of our friends and neighbors were out celebrating the romantic night. There was no one to help us.

With a deep breath, DH explained the predicament to our waitress. She scowled angrily. “You ordered a ton of food!”

He apologized and promised we would return home and come back with his wallet, but that we lived about a half-hour away.

That wasn’t good enough. The manager decided that I should stay at the restaurant as some sort of insurance policy that DH would, in fact, return for his impregnated whale and pay our bill.

I sat back in the waiting area watching other women who could move lithely and could see their feet smile and laugh. I checked the clock endlessly. Where was he? The manager would come by and offer me an eye roll before returning to the task of feeding hundreds of people on Valentine’s. An hour passed, and I began to panic. What was taking so long?

DH finally returned an hour and a half later. He almost bowled over the maître d in an effort to get to me and to get the bill paid.

I ground my teeth and offered DH nothing more than huffs and scowls as he apologized all the way home.

When I stormed up the stairs and into the kitchen, I found two-dozen red roses on the counter, one for me and one for the baby.

“I had to do something. That’s what took me so long.” DH offered sweetly.

So, though it hadn’t gone quite as we’d planned, I spun and did my best to hug him tightly. We spent the evening laying in bed watching our little boy kick and move in my stomach. Then we celebrated Valentine’s night just the way it should be celebrated. 😉

The Dating Game

Jessica Scott, Meg Bingley, Christa Desir

The Dating Game by Jessica Scott

I didn’t actually date all that much. When you’re a private in Germany in the mid 1990s, there’s not much by way of dating. We all kind of hung out in the barracks and partied together.

I’d met him when I’d gone out went out with a group of friends post break up from a real winner (and by that I mean loser I was lucky to be away from). It was New Year’s Eve and we’d been dating for a few months.

We snuck away from the party and walked around outside together. It was kind of surreal. The moon was bright and huge in the sky. You could hear the music from far away. It was cold but not sub-arctic.

He turned and put his arms around me and cupped my face (that was seriously why I fell in love with him was the whole cupping my face thing) and whispers “Happy New Year. I love you” and then kissed me.

I was a goner after that, let me tell you. We’ve been together ever since.

About Jessica Scott

USA Today Bestselling author Jessica Scott is a career army officer, mother of two daughters, three cats and three dogs, wife to a career NCO and wrangler of all things stuffed and fluffy. She is a terrible cook and even worse housekeeper, but she’s a pretty good shot with her assigned weapon and someone liked some of the stuff she wrote. Somehow, her children are pretty well adjusted and her husband still loves her, despite burned water and a messy house.

She’s also written for the New York Times At War Blog, PBS Point of View Regarding War, and IAVA. She deployed to Iraq in 2009 as part of OIF/New Dawn and has had the honor of serving as a company commander at Fort Hood, Texas twice.

She’s pursuing a graduate degree in Sociology in her spare time and most recently, she’s been featured as one of Esquire Magazine’s Americans of the Year for 2012.

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads

My Worst Date Ever by Margaret Bingley

When I was 16 I was asked out by a good looking 19yr old at our tennis club.

The only drawback was that he was quite a lot shorter than me. We went to the local cinema, and when we arrived his mother was waiting in the queue.  ‘I’ve saved a place for you both!’ she said.

So, the three of us sat in a silent row watching The Fall of The Roman Empire, which went on for hours and then we all left together.

He did walk me home alone from the bus stop, but outside my house he asked if I would sit on the wall so that he could kiss me. I was mortified, and declined the offer of a second date!

About Margaret Bingley

Margaret Bingley was born in Sutton, Surrey and educated at Sutton High School for Girls GPDST, where she won the school English prize, and then at Rickard’s Lodge Secretarial College in Wimbledon. After that she went to work at the BBC in London, and later moved to work for The Heinemann Group of Publishers at Lower Kingswood in Surrey, where she met her future husband, Alan.

In 1974, Margaret and Alan moved to Grantham in Lincolnshire and In 1976 their son, Alex, was born. One day, after reading a particularly boring book, she decided to try and write one herself and eventually, after many trials and tribulations, her first book THE DEVIL’S CHILD was published. Much of the book was based on those early, halcyon days of motherhood.

She continued writing steadily from 1983 onwards, and in February 2000 she also started writing a weekly column of 400 words for the local paper, The Grantham Journal, entitled ‘The Way I See It’.

Apart from her work, Margaret enjoys reading, opera, dry white wine, Foyle’s War (or anything else with Michael Kitchen in it!) and gardening.

She does not like reality TV shows, ‘alternative’ comedians or Political Correctness.

Website: http://www.margaretbingley.co.uk/index.html

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/115840.Margaret_Bingley

Prom by Christa Desir

The big date. The one girls have been told from an early age is the second most important night of their life (#1 being their wedding night). Every dance in high school is a test run for prom night.

Which was a bit of a problem for me, since no one ever asked me to dances. By my junior year I’d become one of those girls who pretended dances suck. And they do, but mostly because girls like me didn’t get invited to them. But the mystique of prom still tickled the back of my mind and as jaded as I had become about homecoming and the Valentine’s dance, I held out a glimmer of hope for prom.

So imagine my surprise (not) when as a junior, I accidentally on purpose talked an incredibly shy and awkward senior into inviting me to his prom. I mean, this seemed like a great opportunity for me to ready myself for my own prom.

Only it was horrible. The thing that people forget to tell you is that prom blows if you don’t really like-like the person you’re there with. Because you’re surrounded by couples who like-like each other, who are maybe getting ready to later have sex, who have a twenty-four hour extended prom plan. And when you’re with the shy awkward guy from your o-chem class who can barely put two sentences together, it is a million times worse than if you didn’t go at all.

So I danced with my date twice. And I danced with someone who I like-liked once, though I think his date was a bit salty about it. And I looked at the interminable post-prom plans my shy date had schedule for us and I couldn’t bear the idea of it. So I did what every normal seventeen-year-old girl in my situation would do: I faked sick and made him take me home.

And never went to my own senior prom.

About Christa Desir

I’m Christa Desir and I write young adult novels. I am an avid reader and have been in love with YA books ever since reading Judy Blume’s FOREVER (while hiding between the stacks in the library).

My first success with writing came at the age of five when I wrote a story about my sister and our neighbor Andy “kissing in the dushes.” My parents were so proud of this work, they framed it and showed it to every visitor who came to our house. My sister still has not forgiven me.

I live outside of Chicago with my awesome husband, Julio, and our three children. When I’m not writing, I am an editor of romance novels. I am also a feminist, former rape victim advocate, lover of coffee and chocolate, and head of the PTA. It is a rare day when I don’t humiliate myself somehow, and I frequently blog about my embarrassing life moments.

Website: http://christadesir.com

Twitter: @ChristaDesir

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/christa.desir1

The Dating Game

Sidney Halston, Meghan March

WORST DATE EVER.

Here’s a snippet from FULL CONTACT by Sidney Halston.

Jessica is on a blind date that has been sabotaged by Slade, the hero. Right before the date began, Slade told Roger that Jessica was cranky because she was on her period. It all went downhill after that…

When the appetizers arrived, she dove into her Watercress salad (dressing on the side), while Roger ate his glistening-with-oil, fried calamari.  She looked at her salad suspiciously wondering if her fried calamari would be arriving soon, but when he began to eat, she realized her salad was her appetizer. Why had she let him order for her? Her mouth watered for those fried calamari. She swallowed a few more green leaves and took a sip of her way-too-sweet Cosmopolitan.  Why did men always assume a woman wanted a Cosmopolitan? Thank you, Sex and the City.

“Good?” Roger asked as he took a sip of his red wine.

She smiled and nodded.

“So, how are you feeling? Any cramps?” The Cosmo went right out of her nose mid-sip. She coughed and her eyes watered. Roger looked around, embarrassed, before standing up and walking behind her to pat her back.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded, grabbed a cloth napkin and wiped her eyes and nose as the last few coughs came out.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” She cleared her throat a few more times as the waiter gathered their plates.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah. Just caught me off guard with that question.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about. Menstruation is a normal thing. All women experience it.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward and whispered, “I’m fine. No cramping.” She put on her best fake grin. “For Christ sake, I beg you not to say the word menstruation again.”

“I won’t. But you don’t have to be shy with me.”

Dinner came right before she had a chance to respond.

About Sidney Halston

USA Today bestselling author, Sidney Halston lives her life with one simple rule: “Just Do It” Nike, and that’s exactly what she did. After working hard as an attorney, Sidney picked up a pen for the first time at thirty years old to begin her dream of writing. Having never written anything other than very exciting legal briefs, she found an outlet for her imaginative romantic side and wrote Seeing Red, among four other novels currently in the works, including the sequel to Seeing Red. That first pen stroke sealed the deal and she fell in love with writing.

Sidney lives in South Florida with her husband and children. She loves her family above all else, and reading follows a close second. When she’s not writing you can find her reading and reading and reading… She’s a reader first and a writer second.

When she’s not writing or reading her life is complete and utter chaos trying to balance family life with work, and writing (and reading). But she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Website: http://www.sidneyhalston.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sidneyhalston
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SidneyHalston

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6916557.Sidney_Halston

WORST DATE EVER by Meghan March

I was sixteen, and my parents had just recently lifted the ban on dating. This was my second real date EVER—the kind where the boy picked me up in an actual car that wasn’t his mother’s and took me out.

And that’s where it all started to go wrong.

To protect the not so innocent, let’s call this boy Chris. Tall. Hard body. Tan. Blue eyes. Curly, dirty blond hair. He. Was. Hot.

I waited anxiously by the front door at the appointed time, looking all cute in my pale pink mini skirt and white tank top. It was summer. August, I think. Just before school was supposed to start.

The appointed time came and went with no car pulling into the driveway.

Nope, the 1986 Firebird didn’t roll up until ten minutes later, and then it just sat in the driveway. Sat. My dad was standing by the front door and told me in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell I was going out that door until the boy came and knocked like a proper date.

So I waited.

And waited.

And then Chris honked the damn horn.

My dad opened the door and stalked out to the car, ripped the door open and explained that no one was taking his daughter on a date if he couldn’t exercise even the minimum amount of courtesy by coming to the door and pretending to be a gentleman for five miutes.

Aaaaand the Firebird door slammed shut and it peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing.

End. Of. Date.

So. Maybe that doesn’t count as a ‘worst date ever’ because it was the date that never happened, but sixteen year old me was horrified. I never talked to the boy again. It wasn’t until I was several years older that I thanked my dad for teaching me never to settle and helping me dodge the bullet of what could have been an even worse date.

About Meghan March

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

Website: http://www.meghanmarch.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MeghanMarchAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Meghan_March
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8184875.Meghan_March

The Dating Game

Cat Porter, Tawny Weber, Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

WORST DATE by Cat Porter

I worked in an art gallery in SoHo in New York City after I’d graduated from college. An art critic who was also a performance artist used to pop into the gallery on a regular basis and asked me out one day. This guy was an attractive, flirty, suave, forty-something South African with a fascinating accent. I was very flattered and said yes. After he left, my artist coworkers teased me though, warning me to watch out as he was a known player.

We went out for dinner and then went to an experimental theater performance that was rather pretentious and so “out there” I could barely wrap my head around it. He of course loved it. He didn’t realize I was only 21, and when I told him I still lived with my parents and was looking for my own place, his eyebrows shot up his head just and he was rendered speechless just as I expected. (What, me lie?) Afterwards we met up with several of his trendy friends for drinks, and I felt so out of place—like Carrie Bradshaw in Sex & the City when she goes out with older, art star new boyfriend Baryshnikov and his artsy French friends? All I could think was, what the hell does he want with me? (As if I didn’t know) Should I be impressed? (Smeh.) What the hell would my parents say if they knew I was out on a date with a 45 year old? (Never mind.)

As the night wore on, my fascination with him wore off, and I felt more uncomfortable and awkward as did he, and we had less and less to say to each other. At the end of the evening, he went in for the big kiss as a sort of “we might as well do this” maneuver as if he was doing me a favor. (Eye roll.) After that, whenever he’d come into the gallery we’d give each other a stiff smile and both turn the other way. My boss figured it out immediately and had a good laugh.

About Cat Porter

Cat Porter was born and raised in New York City, but also spent a few years in Europe and Texas along the way. As an introverted, only child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events planner, freelance writer, restaurant hostess and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of the day and night to help make her dreams come true. She has two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Athens, Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive member of society.

Website: http://www.catporter.eu/wordpress/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/catporterauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/catporter103

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8286871.Cat_Porter

The Best Date by Tawny Weber

I wish I had a great bad date story!  But I’ve been married for so long that dating is a foggy memory.   I guess that stems from the best date I ever had, which was the first one with my husband.  And, know that I think about it, that was my last date, too.  Go figure.

We’d gone to high school together, but didn’t really hang out. But his younger brother and mine were best buds, and my brother had tried to fix us up a few times, saying we’d be perfect together. But I’d said no. Then, about a year later, I saw my future hubster at the bank and :::boom::: just like that, I was hooked.

As soon as I saw my brother, I asked for hubster’s phone number.  But my brother is a little weirdly old-fashioned and didn’t want his sister calling a guy, so he went to see him instead. The first thing hubster said, before hi, was if he could get my phone number.  Our first date was the next weekend. We did the ubiquitous dinner and a movie.  He came over to visit the next evening, the evening after that, etc.  It did take him 5 visits to kiss me goodnight – maybe that’s the bad part of the date LOL.  We were engaged 4 months after our first date and married 5 months later.

New York Times and USA Today Bestseller, Tawny Weber has been writing sassy, sexy romances since her first Harlequin Blaze hit the shelves in 2007. A fan of Johnny Depp, cupcakes and color coordination, she spends a lot of her time shopping for cute shoes, scrapbooking and hanging out on Facebook.

Come by and visit her website at http://www.tawnyweber.com for hunky contests, delicious recipes and lots of fun.

Website: http://tawnyweber.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TawnyWeber.RomanceAuthor?ref=sgm

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/TawnyWeber

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/513828.Tawny_Weber

 

Worst Date by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

All right. So, this doesn’t actually count as a traditional date, but it’s close enough. My worst “date” ever was with my husband.  (Yeah, honey! I’m going there. Dirty laundry time.  Hehe.)  So, here’s the quick backstory to set the stage. When my husband turned 30 yrs. old, we were living in Mexico City at the time (his home town).  With the help of my good buddy (hi Jen!), we pulled together a spectacular surprise bash.  I brought his best friend in from out of town, cooked for a week (at a neighbor’s apartment), recruited an army to set up a tons of decorations while I had him out to dinner, and I bought tons of beer and drinks (his friends drank like fish!). It was a huge amount of work! But he was surprised, and it was a party he’ll remember the rest of his life.

Seven years later, it was my turn. The big Three-Oh (no)!  We had planned a vacation to see some friends in southern Mexico, near the border of Belize. And though we happened to be flying out on my bday and arriving late, I just knew my hubby had something planned for when we arrived. After ten hours of flying and a short ride to their house, I got out of the car filled with excitement, but I kept my cool. I wanted to act surprised by whatever he’d planned. Well, I was!  Inside our friends’ home were…our friends, of course, and I was so happy to see them! But my hubby hadn’t even told them it was my bday. Nor had he arranged for a cake or flowers or…well…anything at all. I didn’t want to be a bad guest or ruin our visit, so I hid my disappointment. But when we went to bed later that night, boy…I let him have it. “Seriously, dude. Not even a cake? WTF?” I was so peeved. The next day, as an apology, he hired a troop of mariachi. Yeah, I got my cake and flowers, too. I eventually forgave him, but to this day, he’s never forgotten to at least do a little something special for my bday. And I still love to tease him about it each year. (He doesn’t think it’s funny. At all.)

About Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of Paranormal and Contemporary Romance.  Her books have hit the Amazon and B&N top-100 lists multiple times and have been #1 genre sellers around the world. Both traditionally and independently published, Mimi has sold over 500,000 copies since publishing her 1st title in 2012, and she plans to spontaneously combust once she hits the one-million mark. Although she obtained her international MBA and worked for over 15 years in the corporate world, she believes that it’s never too late to come out of the romance-closet and follow your dreams.

When not screaming at her computer or hosting her very inappropriate radio show, (Man Candy on Radioslot.com!), Mimi spends time with her two pirates in training, her loco-for-the-chili-pepper hubby, and her rat terrier, DJ Princess Snowflake, in the San Francisco Bay Area.

She continues to hope that her books will inspire a leather pants comeback (for men) and that she might make you laugh when you need it most.

Website: http://www.mimijean.net/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MimiJeanRomance

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MimiJeanPamfiloff

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5618190.Mimi_Jean_Pamfiloff?from_search=true

 

About Jillian Neal

Jillian Neal is a Romance writer with a passion for passion who pens strong, character driven novels, told from the male perspective. Her guys aren’t afraid to let us inside their minds or inside their bedrooms. They’re hot on the trail of a sinister criminal organization when they’re not burning up the bed sheets.

She’s a self-proclaimed ‘Southern girl with a sassy mouth.’ Her coffee addiction is barely legal, and she’s most often running around with her hair and her pen on fire! She’s full of smarts, sass, and sizzle and that’s a lot to get into barely five feet of girl with her head always in the clouds.

Website // Twitter // Facebook // Goodreads

 

GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

As the story of Bowie and Shay continues, find out what happened after the beauty claimed the Heart of an Outlaw.

Savage Outlaws MC
Beautiful Outlaw (Book 1)
Heart of an Outlaw (Book 1.5)

***WARNING***
This novel contains explicit language, violence, and sexual situations that some might find offensive.

AMAZON * AMAZON UK

AMAZON * AMAZON UK

USA Today Best Selling Author, Emily Minton is a Kentucky native. She claims she bleeds blue–Wildcat Blue!

Emily loves to read, and this love of the written word led to her writing career.

Find out more about Emily on Facebook.

Hosted By:

Release Date: February 16^th, 2015

Blurb

Murder, mayhem and makeup.

Panty dropper, knee knocker and all-around-good time Cam Hardy leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes. His lady killer reputation never bothered the private investigator until he met Drea Sanford. Getting the tough as nails make up artist in his bed proved to be the easy part. It’s keeping her there that’s harder than any of the special ops missions he’s run in South America.

Falling into Harbor City’s modern day Casanova’s bed was never on Drea’s list of smart things to do—but hotness happens, especially in the form of the six-foot-five-inch motorcycle riding Cam. Then he takes their secret affair public and she swears to never let him crinkle her sheets again. But when one of Drea’s clients is murdered and the police zero in on her, the only person she can count on is the one man she never thought she could trust.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24701704-make-me-up

Buy links:

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Make-Entangled-Ignite-Killer-Style-ebook/dp/B00SS9SM32/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422483190&sr=8-1&keywords=avery+flynn+make+me+up
Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/make-me-up-avery-flynn/1121119902?ean=9781633751989
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/make-me-up-entangled-ignite

YouTube Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FEvAW4ZFio&feature=em-upload_owner#action=share

Excerpt

Drea got out of the seat and turned around to face him, but she was lost for words when she realized standing up had just given him a better view. Cam’s green-eyed gaze took in her entire body. Then he grinned, pissing her off and drenching her panties at the same damn time.

If anyone could carry off absolutely wicked and totally charismatic at the same time, it was Cam. She itched to run her fingers through his thick mass of tousled honey blond hair. His murky green eyes were full of dark promise, the kind she knew he could deliver.

And then there was his body. She could eat Jell-O off of his tanned washboard abs and the gelatin wouldn’t have the courage to jiggle. Being near him was like standing at the edge of the subway platform as the train whooshed by—exhilarating, dangerous, and addicting on a completely visceral level.

But he’d broken her rule. The one thing she’d asked him not to do—and he’d gone and done it anyway. She wasn’t sure whether knowing he’d done it without thinking made the situation worse or just sad. But she couldn’t keep seeing him if she couldn’t trust him to keep this a secret. Hell, after that kiss, there was no secret. Cover blown. Everyone knew.

Time to cut her losses. Breaking it off now was the smart plan.

“I know what it is.” He stood up and closed the distance between them. “You’re embarrassed because you think someone saw your tongue push its way into my mouth—accidentally, I’m sure. And heard that sweet, soft moan of pleasure—”

She pushed her hand against his chest and forced him back. “Get over yourself, pretty boy.”

He didn’t even blink at the insult. “You want me. I want you. The sex is amazing. Why are you fighting so damn hard against letting people know we’re together?”

“Because we’re not.” She had no plans to trod down the well-worn path to Cam Hardy’s bed again. “You knew the rules when this thing started.”

“No going public.” His gaze pinned her to the spot, and he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. “Look, babe, give me another chance.”

It made her mouth go dry and other places get wet. They’d had one hell of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am twisting of the sheets, but they’d known from the start this was temporary. She’d known it. He’d known it. They’d agreed to keep it secret.

“It’s over.” Drea took a single step away from him.

He moved lightning fast to get in front of her, his bulk blocking her view of the rest of the group. “Don’t go away mad, babe. Let me make it up to you. Tonight. My place. No one has to know.”

She tossed her cup and plate into the trashcan. “Charming.”

He threw up his hands in frustration. “Around most people, I am.”

“And I’m not most people.” Pushing her point home, she traced a finger across his broad, sinewy shoulders and used the softest hint of pressure to nudge him out of her way so she could march across the grass to say goodbye to her best friends. “You should remember that.”

“As if I could ever forget.”

Giveaway

Note from Avery on Prize Pack

When you’re a makeup artist, you have to look good–even when you’re on the run from the cops and a crime boss. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the person standing between you and the bad guys is a sexy, motorcycle-riding former special ops hottie who just happens to be your ex-lover. Yeah, those kind of days require Sexy Mother Pucker lipstick, Most Wanted eyeliner, Making Headlines nail polish, Gun Ammo eye shadow and Sweet Verbena scents. Lucky you, you don’t have to be on the run like Drea and Cam in Make Me Up to get all of these goodies. Just enter the giveaway for your chance to win the Make Me Up Makeover Basket from author Avery Flynn & Entangled Publishing!

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About Author

Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.

Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

Website: http://averyflynn.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AveryFlynnAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/@averyflynn

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4894804.Avery_Flynn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

Illusions — we all create them.
For some it’s to project an impressive image to a prospective employer; for others it’s to attract the eye of another.
My illusion is a bit more…complicated.
Years in the making, my secret has the potential to bite me in the ass. And not in the way I typically enjoy.

Sex.
As women, we’re judged for reveling in the same carnal pleasures that men do, but I’ve never been shy about my voracious appetite.
Now, I’m under no illusions that I’ll find love with any of my one night stands.
After all, I have one rule — no repeats — but it’s a rule that’s becoming harder to follow since Evan James came back into my life.
Did I say back into my life?
My name is Reagan Spencer, and you may think you know me, but…
How well do we really know anyone?

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1EbamQd
B&N: http://bit.ly/16poXwj
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1JzT4iR
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1A7iQXG
Gumroad (Ella): https://gumroad.com/l/tplx
Gumroad (Brooke): https://gumroad.com/l/BrookeBlaine

Review

Desperate – that perfectly describes Evan James’ state of mind when it comes to his need for release, but what readers soon learn in Volume 2 is that Reagan Spencer is just as desperate…for control…for satisfaction…for moments when her past doesn’t hold reign over her. But what Reagan realizes is that her reaction to Evan makes her lose her put together, take charge facade and forces her to face facts not only about her past but the ways Evan factors into that past as well, and as the sexual tension builds around Evan and Reagan, it’s hard to tell who is going to end up being more frantic for the other.

Volume 2 of A Desperate Man demonstrates the phenomenal writing of Ella Frank and Brooke Blaine, and I love the fact that they gave readers Evan’s perspective in Volume 1 and then Reagan’s in Volume 2. The game of cat and mouse between Evan and Reagan consists of a plethora of repressed feelings that are just waiting to explode, but what I’m waiting for is the implosion that’s bound to occur because there are secrets that involve both of them that neither are willing to dispense with, and when it all comes out, neither will remain unscathed, not when their connections has been there for such a long time.

The one thing I can’t quite wrap my head around is Evan’s transformation, and I think that might be because I don’t have his thoughts and feelings. Reagan’s point of view is an absolute necessity, but seeing everything from Reagan’s point of view when it comes to Evan’s recovery didn’t work so well for me because it’s coming from a secondhand source and in something like this, I feel like it needs to be shown through the person who’s evolving and learning to adjust. But I’m hoping in the next installment, readers will get to understand Evan’s progress and see how all of the parts of both of their pasts fit together to make them who they are today.

One thing’s for sure, the final installment is going to unearth a bounty of secrets and lies, but it’s still too soon to tell if either Evan or Reagan will recover once everything is out in the open.

A complimentary copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.

4.5 poison apples

Excerpt

“Blondie,” he called out, and lifted his hand in a wave.

She dashed over, out of the rain, and lowered the umbrella as she came to a stop in front of him. His eyes automatically zoomed in on her plumped-up breasts, and the first thought that ran through her mind was, Score one for me. Slightly juvenile, perhaps, but a much more appropriate thought than the ones she’d been having prior to getting out of the cab.

“I wasn’t sure you’d brave the weather tonight. Thought I might end up going stag.”

Shaking the umbrella, Reagan brought her eyes up to his and let her mouth curl into a wicked smile.

“Please, I’m at my best when wet.”

Evan’s eyes heated as he seemed to bite his tongue. “Already pulling out the big guns, I see.”

“Oh no, honey, I haven’t even started. I’m saving my true arsenal for the men who count.”

Evan cocked his head to the side, but didn’t appear offended as a small smile tugged his lips. “I see how it is.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You’re gonna go all sex kitten, and I’m going to be stuck asking about feelings and shit.”

As they moved toward the door, and Evan reached for the handle and pulled it open, Reagan stopped and looked up at him.

“You do have feelings, don’t you, Evan?”

He leaned down until his mouth was by her ear and whispered, “I’m having a very strong feeling right now.”

Reagan’s stomach flipped, and she ignored the urge to flirt back with the man grinning at her, instead scoffing before patting his arm. “Well, you should make sure to tell that to the first young lady you sit down with.”

“If she’s a lady, I’m thinking she won’t appreciate that particular feeling.”

“Then what does that make me?”

Brushing past him, she felt his hand against her hip through the tight material of her dress. She didn’t have to have eyes in the back of her head to know he was staring at her ass.

“That makes you fucking dangerous.”

 

Buy Links for A Desperate Man: Volume 1

 

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1wBLSy3

iBooks – http://bit.ly/1JzT4iR

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/16poXwj

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1vV9kS6

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1wFaxR2

Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1vVtlYG

 

 

 GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

About the Authors

About Brooke

You could say Brooke Blaine was a book-a-holic from the time she knew how to read; she used to tell her mother that curling up with one at 4 a.m. before elementary school was her ‘quiet time.’ Not much has changed except for the espresso I.V. pump she now carries around and the size of her onesie pajamas.

Her first solo novel, a romantic comedy, is due out in early 2015, but first, she thought she’d write a raunchy story with her best friend that would scar her conservative southern family for life.

If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find – just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for ten years.

Brooke’s Links

Website: www.brookeblaine.com

Brooke Blaine’s Amazon Author Webpage: http://amzn.to/1EORCJH

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BrookeBlaine.Writer (Pages)

https://www.facebook.com/BrookeBlaineAuthor (Personal)

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrookeBlaine1

Instagram: @brookeblaine1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9759417.Brooke_Blaine

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/brookeblaine11

Email: brookeblaineauthor@gmail.com

TSU: https://www.tsu.co/BrookeBlaine

 

About Ella

Ella Frank is a #1 Amazon Bestselling Author. She writes both contemporary and erotic fiction and is best known for her Exquisite Series, and Temptation Series.

The minute she began her love affair with reading, she became and avid supporter of the romance genre and has never looked back.

Ella is Australian born and bred but currently resides in Houston, Texas with her husband.

Ella’s Links

Website: www.ellafrank.com

Ella Frank’s Amazon Author Webpage: http://amzn.to/1vxYU1J

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ella.frank.31 (Pages)

https://www.facebook.com/ella.frank.author (Personal)

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EllaFrank2012

Instagram: @Ellafrank1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6451816.Ella_Frank

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/ellafrank/

Email: ellafrank2012@gmail.com

Blog: http://blog.ellafrank.com

TSU: https://www.tsu.co/EllaFrank

 

 

 

 

 

B. L. Marsh has been writing and telling stories her entire life. She is a music teacher, guest lecturer and runs Masterclasses. Her academic research is focused on the L’homme arme tradition, the Dead Sea Scrolls, chant transmission in the Medieval and Renaissance, and Gnostic and Kabbalah history.

Her passion for spirituality, mythology and developing her relationship with God are parts of her Rule of Life. In her reading of the Bible and other extra-biblical texts however, she began to daydream about the characters, about how life was back then, and how cool it would have been to walk in the Garden with God.

Her stories weave a new mythology revolving around Genesis.

When she is not writing or teaching, she spends her days hanging out with five of the coolest boys on the planet and at night can be found doing completely ridiculous things like reading Joseph Campbell and Jane Austin and watching the same 3 movies on TV.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page | TSU

Synopsis

What if you discovered there was “time” before time began? What if everything you thought was true, was not? What if there was a beginning before “In the beginning”; another story unfolding within our time, steeped in loss, love, betrayal, and secrets.

Welcome to Eden where magic was born, trees are gateways to other realms and angels aren’t what you think they are. Meet Lilith. A young girl with an incredible story. One she isn’t supposed to know much less tell. Meet Sagan. A man without past and powers who rival Lilith’s. Will he be able to help her find out her past and discover his own in the process?

Go back in time. Back to the garden. Experience the magic of the creation, the wonder of nature and the betrayal that destroyed it all.

 

AmazonUS | AmazonUK | Amazon CA | AmazonAU | B&N | Smashwords | iBooks | Kobo

 

 

Synopsis

Imagine a world where vampires exist, but everything you knew about them was wrong? Imagine a world full of secrets, but you had a secret you couldn’t tell anyone. Imagine a world where prophecies exist, but you find out the safety of a nation will possibly kill you?

The time has come for Emma MacLaughlin to make a decision. It’s the night of Lilith’s wedding and the pain has become too great. No longer able to heal herself fully, Emma walks away from the beautiful ceremony in tears.

Emerson McIntyre watches as the only woman he’s ever loved walks away, crying. Torn between pride and self-doubt, Emerson lets her go. The pull to her is strong, but the whispers from the darkness are greater.

Experience the pain of deception, the healing of forgiveness, the light of redemption and the faith that overcome it all. The darkness is coming. Where will you be when the secret is revealed?

COMING IN 2015

 

 

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L.A. Fiore is the author of several books including: Beautifully Damaged, Beautifully Forgotten and Always and Forever. She’s also the social secretary for her two children, a tamer of ill-mannered cats, the companion to one awesome dog and married to her best friend. She likes her wine red, her shrimp chilled and her social gatherings small and intimate.

 

Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

The number one source in staying connected with your favorite author is by subscribing to their newsletter

CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP TODAY —-> Newsletter

 

Synopsis

Saffron Mills has lived all of her almost thirty years in Harrington, Maine—a small town where fishing is plenty, but available men are far too few. Yet it’s not just her dating dry spell that draws her to recent arrival Logan MacGowan. Tall, dark, and handsome, with emerald-green eyes and an impossibly hot body, Logan is a gorgeous enigma whose silence she takes for indifference…until one unforgettable chance meeting, when pent-up attraction ignites into the most intense encounter of her life.

In this quiet, quirky town, no one knows that Logan’s alter ego is famous sculptor and tabloid darling David Cambre. In New York, he had all the wrong kind of attention, but in Harrington, he’s found peace, privacy…and Saffron. She’s witty, forthright, and so much sexier and stronger than she knows. But how do you protect the love you’ve been waiting for when your own lifestyle could be destined to rip it apart?

Pre-order Links: AmazonUS | AmazonUK | AmazonCA | AmazonAU

Synopsis

Ember Walsh is a trusting soul with the quiet beauty of her late mother, who perished in a mysterious car crash when Ember was three. A little tomboyish from being raised by her father, Ember packs a punch when a stranger gets pushy with her in a bar, catching the steely blue eyes of a tall, gorgeous tattooed man—Trace Montgomery. Still damaged from her last disastrous relationship and warned off the bad boy by friends, Ember fights the smoldering heat that Trace sparks in her when he begins shadowing her like a dark angel.

Burdened by a lifetime of horror and heartbreak, amateur fighter Trace doesn’t want to want Ember. His deep self-loathing keeps him from having any meaningful relationships, but Ember is an itch he can’t scratch. The two push and pull, slowly crumbling their walls, seemingly brought together by fate, because the turmoil that haunts their pasts is interlinked in undeniable ways. But can these two fighters finally lay down their arms?

In Beautifully Damaged, L.A. Fiore delves into deep scars and lets love and forgiveness uncover redemption.

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Synopsis

Successful restaurateur Lucien Black’s blue-green eyes and unattainable attitude drive women wild. But his abandonment issues and criminal past have left him emotionally closed off. When a familiar face shows up for a job interview at his nightclub, the ache he has tried to forget tears at his heart—it’s the girl who once healed him…and then abandoned him.

Darcy MacBride still remembers Lucien’s delicate touch when they were both wildly in love teenagers. His gorgeous eyes had soothed her hurt after she’d been dumped off at the orphanage where Lucien lived. Darcy felt his jagged edges fit perfectly into her own, and she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with him—until a mysterious man warned her away. Now, fourteen years later, she’s ready to endure the torture of Lucien’s indifference and having him as her boss…just to be near him. But when it seems that they might finally take up where they left off, a devastating secret buried in their past threatens to tear them apart again.

L.A. Fiore’s story of smoldering love recaptures the tormented romance of Beautifully Damaged.

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Synopsis

Archaeologist Quinn Shaughnessy loves to dig, loves the act of finding lost treasures, but more she loves understanding how “what was” affects “what is”. When she stumbles onto a forgotten castle in the middle of the English countryside, she is determined to learn all that she can about the place. Never in Quinn’s wildest dreams could she imagine her quest for answers would lead her into the adventure that awaits her. After an encounter with an old woman speaking of magic and the sighting of a handsome ghost who haunts the castle grounds, Quinn finds herself pulled back into the past to the time when the castle was inhabited.

Quinn will learn that it isn’t by chance that she was the one to find that which was lost. She will learn first hand how the link to the past impacts the path of the future, and she will discover a love that not even the passing of time can diminish.

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