K.T. Castle's Blog, page 4
March 21, 2018
Hot Mess
A Practical Guide to Getting Organized
by Laurie Palau
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GENRE
Lifestyle
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BLURB
Most of us have too much stuff and not enough places to put it. Combine that with our hectic modern lives, and you’ve got a recipe for clutter catastrophe. Luckily, help is at hand. Hot Mess: A Practical Guide to Getting Organized can show you how to simplify your life—and get control of your stuff. In this new guide to streamlining and organizing your belongings, your house, and your life, author and expert Laurie Palau gives you all the strategies you need to clear your clutter once and for all. This comprehensive book offers clever storage ideas and decorating tips, but more importantly, it shows you where your clutter comes from and how to change your approach. This makes it the definitive how-to for dropping all the dead weight that’s been keeping you stressed and anxious. Just follow the hacks, tips, and strategies Palau clearly outlines, and you’ll soon be sipping a vodka martini in your beautifully tidy living room. Whether you’re naturally neat or a total chaos magnet, this informative and amusing guide takes an approach to organizing that’s as unique as you are. Let this witty little handbook be your new secret weapon in the war on disorder!
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EXCERPT
We’ve talked a lot about organizing your stuff, but how about finding time in your day for you? Calendar clutter, in my opinion, is the driving force behind so much of our daily stress, anxiety, and frustration. So many of us run on autopilot, especially when the kids are small, or when we are busy taking care of ailing parents or building a career. It’s easy to see how we can lose sight of making time for other things in our life that are important, like self-care.
As a society, we have a difficult time knowing how to unplug. Life is filled with distractions, and unless you make a conscious effort to prioritize time for yourself, it will never happen. Maybe you want time to exercise, join a book club, volunteer, or take up a hobby, but figuring out the logistics may seem impossible.
…Only when I took a step back to look at what my goals were, and actually wrote down what I had been doing, was I able to see where I needed to change. Note the key phrase: “I needed to change.” I had to reclaim control over how I chose to spend my time.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
[image error]Laurie Palau is the founder of simply B organized, host of the weekly podcast, This ORGANIZED Life, and author of the book HOT MESS: A Practical Guide to Getting Organized available in paperback and kindle on amazon or Barnes & Noble.
She is a go-to Organizing Expert whose advice has been featured in The New York Times Parenting Section, Family Circle, and Home + Table Magazine. Laurie can also be seen sharing tips on the CBS Philadelphia’s Morning Show & WFMZ in Allentown, PA. Whether speaking or working with clients Laurie is authentic, relatable, inspiring, and highly entertaining.
When not organizing the world, Laurie can be found at home in Bucks County, PA with her husband Josh, 2 girls (Zoe and Logan) and 2 dogs (Jeter and Oliver). She loves coffee and Tito’s Vodka (not together), and in her spare time she is actively involved with The St. Baldrick’s Foundation, which raises money for Pediatric Cancer Research.
Visit www.simplyBorganized.com for a complete list of service offerings including free organizing checklists, links to her podcast, blog and social media.
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Now, why would someone need to get organize? You might ask. There’s so much going on in our lives that is impossible to tackle it all. So, taking care of oneself sometimes comes out in last place, which includes organizing one’s life.
Laurie Palau was kind enough to tell us why we should get our life organized.
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7 reasons
to get your life organized
Below are 7 reasons that you need to get your life organized. They can be summed up in one word, FREEDOM.
Focus: Living without clutter allows you focus on what really matters
Relief: Relief from added stress, overwhelm, and anxiety
Efficient: The more organized you are, the easier it is to work and live smarter
Enjoyment: An organized space allows you to enjoy what you have & where you live
Direction: The more organized we are, the easier it is to stay on task without distraction
Opportunity: Being organized provides you the ability to prioritize what is truly important
Margin: An organized life allows you to reclaim time that you otherwise wouldn’t have
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GIVEAWAY
Laurie Palau will be awarding a FREE 30 minute phone consultation to help address specific organizing challenges to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
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March 20, 2018
Tempting Little Tease
Hello, everyone!!
I’m so happy to be part of the release day for Tempting Little Tease. Kendall is one of my favorite authors, and I needed to have her book and participate in all the joy and fun. That’s right! I have her book, I’m reading it as I publish this, and soon, very soon, I’ll have a review for you.
If you haven’t read any of her books, you’ve been missing out. She’s a great author! If you’re interested to know her more I have several posts of books of here right here in my blog. My favorite must be XO, Zach, but I also have a small peak of The Soul Mate and Torrid Little Affair (a previous book on this same series).
So, look around and read this fantastic book 
March 19, 2018
Guarding Her Heart
Hello, everyone!
Today, I’m part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions for Guarding Her Heart by Jade Webb. Jade will be awarding a $30 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Trust me, even though I’ve had a silver spoon in my mouth since I was a fetus and have a world-famous pop diva as a sister, there is nothing I want more in the world than to fade into the background and live out my Law & Order fantasy of becoming a public defender.
The only problem is my dad won’t bankroll law school unless I spend the summer following my older sister on her arena tour, keeping her out of trouble and making sure she doesn’t have yet another embarrassing public meltdown. Now relegated to a glorified babysitter, I am stuck lugging my ten-pound LSAT prep books through hotel lobbies and taking practice tests in my sister’s dressing rooms.
Then I find myself caught in a love triangle with my sister’s arch nemesis, bad boy popstar Jordan James and Liam, my sister’s confusing and irritatingly gorgeous Scottish bodyguard. Too bad I’ve sworn off love after seeing my own parent’s train wreck of marriage end with heartache and misery.
I’m tired of living under my family’s careful rules and law school is my way out. I won’t let anything get in my way. I won’t let anyone close enough to break down my walls. I have to guard my heart.
Excerpt
“Gabby?”
When I hear my name, my eyes pop open and I feel the rush of blood to my cheeks. Jordan has stopped playing and is looking right at me. Dear God, I must look like such a stalker.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage to stammer out. “I heard you playing and it was so beautiful.” I turn to leave, offering him an apologetic smile. “You know, I’m just going to go.”
“Wait!” Jordan calls out and I turn back around, pushing the door to the room open. I take a deep breath and slowly enter the room, taking a seat on the couch opposite his chair.
“Well, did you like it?” Jordan asks, his stunning blue eyes looking at me.
I find myself nodding. “It was beautiful, but…”
“But?”
“Well, to be honest, it felt a little sad.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but instead looks at me thoughtfully before chuckling. “It’s my ode to Hollywood,” he responds dryly.
I look at him curiously. “Jordan, why don’t you record songs like that?”
Leaning back in his chair, he moves the guitar off his lap. “No one wants to hear songs like this. They want to hear about pretty girls and fancy cars. They don’t want to hear how I really feel.”
I let out a long sigh. “That’s so sad, Jordan.”
Catching my eye, Jordan smiles. “Do you feel sorry for me, Gabby?”
“No!” I answer instantly before admitting, “Well, actually, maybe a little.”
He leans in, closing the distance between us. “I like that you’re always honest with me. That’s something I don’t get a lot.” He smacks his palms on his thighs and winks at me before continuing, “And since I’ve got you feeling sorry for me, how about you let me take you out to dinner?”
About the Author
I am a lover of romance novels that feature strong heroines who know that the loves that may come into their lives are always the icing, and never the cake.
I have loved romance novels since I was a teen, sneaking them into my Bible studies at my all-girls Catholic school. I love strong heroines who know that the men that may come into their lives are always the icing, and never the cake.
Thanks to my own marriage, I have learned that the challenges of life can only help to make love stronger and I am grateful to my partner for embodying all the magic that love can offer.
When I am not writing or dreaming up new love stories, I am working in a retirement community outside of Boston that provides me with enough writing material for ten lifetimes.
You can find Jade at:
Website: http://www.JadeWebb.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/authorjadewebb
Facebook: http://facebook.com/authorjadewebb
Instagram: http://instagram.com/authorjadewebb
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17629762.Jade_Webb
Get your book today!
Guarding Her Heart is available exclusively on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited – $0.99 during the tour: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0796JHS2W/ref=as_li_tl
Giveaway
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March 17, 2018
Two Wedding Crasher, My Review
Did I tell you how much I liked reading Two Wedding Crashers? I sure did. Some days ago I had two excerpt for you (one and two), and today I have my review. Believe me, it’s a book you’re going to enjoy so very much. Don’t miss out.
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I don’t know what love is anymore.
Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.
You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?
Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.
Except I haven’t felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem–but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?
That’s how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.
It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I’m a pro. I can handle this.
Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I’m doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don’t think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.
Yet another excerpt
Chills scream their way down my arms and legs, my nipples pucker, and just like that, with one word, all humor vanishes from our little conversation and awareness of this all-consuming man wrapped around me hits me hard.
Gathering myself, I say, “Tell me something Chris and Justine know about you.”
“Hmm.” His thumbs hook under the waistband of my shorts, playing with the lower part of my hipbones. His touch spurs on my pelvis, needing to rock, begging for him to go lower. My toes curl in my sandals and my back slightly arches, reaching for more. “Something they know about me.”
His mouth doesn’t stray from its position against my ear, and his hips start to slowly move underneath me, his legs tangling with mine. Involuntarily, one of my hands hooks the back of his neck as I hold on tightly to him, feeling like I need support from the onslaught of sensation I’m feeling.
I hear him say something, but it doesn’t register in my brain, which has turned to mush as his thumbs stray from my hipbones to right above my pubic bone.
There is no denying how turned on I am, how wet I am from his mere touch, how much—despite my reservations—I want this man.
With each stroke, my head turns farther and farther to the side until our noses are touching, Beck’s head bends forward to meet me halfway. My eyes flutter shut for a brief moment before I open them and am captured by those flecks of green and gold.
The air stills around us, our breath mixing, swirling between us, our lips so close.
One swipe of this thumb.
Another one.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t focus.
Another swipe, my head leans even closer, my tongue wetting my lips.
One more swipe . . .
My heart hammers in my chest, my skin prickling with awareness.
Beck brings his mouth even closer, only a whisper away now, and he waits.
Holding still.
His breathing feeling erratic beneath me.
One.
More.
Swipe.
And I’m gone.
I bring my mouth to his, slowly parting my lips ever so slightly, just enough to maneuver my mouth across his.
A low, provocative moan escapes Beck as one of his hands snags the back of my head and holds me in place, almost as if he lets go, I’ll disappear.
Needing more, I shift on his lap so I’m straddling him once again, my hands on his bare chest, feeling the powerful sinew that holds him together.
Our lips press and mold, mingling, taking, begging . . .
Desperate.
Beck’s tongue runs against my bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep within me, lighting a fire so hot, so wild, my hands start to travel up his neck to his cheeks where I grip him, positioning his head so when I open my mouth, I can expertly dive my tongue onto his.
He groans, his lap shifting against mine now, his hard-on pressing against my wet and throbbing center. I match his rocking, using my position on his lap to take advantage of his length I can feel through his board shorts.
This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen, but God, am I happy it has. Maybe I really should live in the moment, maybe I should take advantage of the opportunity, maybe I should…
About the Author
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
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Amazon Author Page | Instagram | Follow on BookBub
My Review
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Rylee is a woman I can instantly relate to. She just went through a rough time in life and is trying to get her feet back on the ground. She’s smart and funny, I really enjoyed her sense of humor, and she has the best friends to support her in everything she does. The thing is that Rylee believes she doesn’t know what love is all about, and for her it’s a real problem since she writes romance. Her BFFs suggest that she crashes a wedding that one of them is invited to, and see for herself how wonderful love can be.
He places his finger over my lips, shushing me before I can protest. “Listen, Rylee. I didn’t come here to fall in love. I came to have a good time and live in the moment. I find you sexy as hell, interesting, and someone I want to spend some island time with. I’m not looking for anything serious either, but hell if I’m going to take you as my wedding date and not spend some time with you beforehand.”
Beck is a gorgeous man. Relax, uncomplicated and sexy as hell. He has a wonderful sense of humor. From the beginning of the story we learn that he’s a recovering alcoholic and his friends are trying to encourage him to get what he wants for life. One of his friends is invited to a wedding in Key West and begs him to come with, since he doesn’t want his wife to take the kids. Under a little pressure of his friend, and a lot of help from his sponsor, he decides to crash the wedding too.
“Am I your sex souvenir, and don’t even know it? Oh my God, do you have a punch card or something, a form I have to fill out? Are you going to take a picture of me with a Polaroid camera, have me sign it, and then hang it with your other sex souvenirs?” He clasps his hand to his chest in disgust. “Am I merely here to be your … f*c/ toy?”
Rylee and Beck actually met since before they arrived to the hotel, I like that they noticed each other from the beginning, but it isn’t until Rylee is given the key to his hotel room that their story together really begins. There’s a lot of chemistry between them, I loved their conversations and banter. Regardless of how attracted they are of each other, they decide that it’s all about a fun weekend in the Keys and crashing the wedding together.
I’m inspired. I’m enamored. I’m spending my last night in Key West throwing caution to the wind and soaking every last moment up.
Of course their relationship went beyond their crashing a Key West wedding, but it’s super fun and interesting to see how they relationship blossoms. I also really enjoy to get to know their friends, and how they encourage and discourage their relationship and what it should have been. What I liked the most about this book, is how little by little we learn new information about Rylee and Beck that explain the whys we ask ourselves at the beginning of the book.
“Sometimes you have to take a chance on something that makes you happy, regardless of the unknown.”
Congratulations to Meghan for another wonderful book! It isn’t only funny and sexy, but it’s the kind of book that makes you feel for the characters, understand where they’re coming from, and inspire you to enjoy life. I recommend that you read this great book.
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March 13, 2018
The Hook-Up Experiment
When I read what Emma’s new book was all about, I knew I needed to share it with the world. Can you resist a single dad?? Specially one that once upon a time you had a mayor crush on (even if you ended up hating him)?
Our heroine in The Hook Up Experiment believes she can date her high school arch-nemesis, hate-screw him actually, and get away from him as if nothing has happened. I like to say that I don’t think she can. What do you thing?
The Hook-up Experiment
by Emma Hart
1.Hate-screw my high school nemesis.
2.Remember to hate him.
3.Prove my brother wrong.
It should be easy.
It isn’t.
As the owner of Pick-A-Dick, New Orleans’ premier hook-up website, my job is simple. Connect two people for a no-strings, no-expectations hook-up. The plus for my clients is that I’m the one who gets to sift through the dick pics—except this time, they’re required.
My problem? My brother, co-owner of Pick-A-Dick’s sister dating site, doesn’t believe it’s possible to hook up with someone three times and not fall in love.
I disagree. I know it’s possible.
And my disagreement is exactly how I end up reconnected with my high school nemesis, Elliott Sloane. The guy who asked me to junior prom and then stood me up. Who egged my car when I rejected him, and convinced my senior homecoming date to ghost me.
It should be easy to hate-screw him. If only he was still that person, instead of a hot-as-hell single dad, working as a builder to make ends’ meet, fighting for custody of his daughter.
Not to mention packing in the pants department…
Three hook-ups.
One outcome.
Right?
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | iBooks | B&N | Kobo
FIND OUT MORE: http://www.pick-a-dick-net
Excerpt
“Is she okay with that juice?” Peyton watched her go.
I selected the Blu-ray from the cupboard and shot a smirk her way. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re getting a juice box.”
“I can live with that.”
I turned away and hit the eject button on the player. “You didn’t have to say yes to her, you know.”
“Of course, I had to. Have you seen those eyes? How do you say no to her, ever?”
“I think of all the times she screams and swings her arms like a tiny terrorist, and it’s pretty easy.” I put the disk in and turned around.
Peyton had one eyebrow raised. “See, now, I’d think that’s reason to say no.”
“It depends on the day. Sometimes it results in her being put to bed to calm down, which means she ends up taking a rare afternoon nap, and I get some peace and quiet.”
“That’s a thing around her? She was talking to me for thirty minutes flat about what I did and didn’t like.”
“Only thirty minutes? Lucky you. She has about three hours of material of that.” I took a seat on the sofa, making sure to leave space between us for Bri. “Did she get started on hedgehogs yet?”
Peyton looked a little confused. “Hedgehogs?”
“YouTube is the devil.”
“That…was quite the jump in subject.”
I laughed as the main menu music hit on the TV. “I’m going to preface this by saying kids are weird.”
“Some get that from their parents.”
I blinked at her for a second. She wasn’t wrong if half these people who had a mini-career opening fucking toys on YouTube were parents.
“There are a bunch of stupid videos on YouTube, and apparently, watching people open toys is thrilling.”
Now, she looked really confused.
“And on one of those she watched, the person had a pet hedgehog who wasn’t having the nonsense of her opening a Hatchimal on camera, so it stole the egg.”
She blinked several times in quick succession. “I have no idea what you just said, and if I’m honest… Please don’t explain it.”
I laughed and hit play on the TV.
“Here’s your dooce-box,” Briony said, handing Peyton two. “And das mine. I can’t do the straws.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.” Peyton looked at the two juices that had been thrust at her.
Smiling, I took one from her. I pulled the straw off the back, out of the tiny plastic slip, and poked it through the foiled hole in the top. “There you go,” I said to Briony. “What do you want for dinner?”
She put the straw in her mouth and pursed her lips as she sucked the juice up. Peyton watched her, lips twitching, as she put her straw in place.
“Pizza!” Briony announced.
Oh no. I’d eaten too much pizza lately.
Was there such a thing as too much pizza?
Maybe if the toppings were changed up…
“Peydon, do you want pizza?” Bri asked, leaning right into her.
“I like pizza,” she replied, smiling sweetly down at her. “What’s your favorite?”
“I like spots and cheese.”
“Spots?”
I coughed on my water. “Pepperoni,” I explained. “They look like spots on the pizza.”
Peyton’s eyes met mine for a minute. Silent laughter shone back at me. That really was toddler logic at its finest.
“You know,” she said, looking down at Peyton. “Spots are my favorite, too!”
Once again, Briony gasped. “Reawy?”
“Really, really. I love spots.”
Oh, Jesus.
It might have been a mistake introducing these two. Not only was my daughter becoming increasingly obsessed with someone who seemed to be a brunette, adult version of her…
No, that was the problem. Peyton was the brunette, adult version of Briony, attitude and all—and if there was anything my daughter didn’t need, it was someone who could teach her a thing or ten about sarcasm.
“I’ll order pizza,” I said, going to stand.
“Oh, you got it last time. I’ll go call them.” Peyton put her juice on the side table and tried to move, but Briony stopped her.
“No. Mimi told me that only gentlemen buy dinner. Princesses sit and look priddy.”
Peyton looked down at her. “Sit and look pretty? I like to buy my own pizza sometimes, and that’s okay.”
Without missing a beat, Briony said, “Princesses sit and look priddy so the mens buying dinner don’t know dat we can kick dere butts.”
About the Author
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
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March 11, 2018
Two Wedding Crashers, Release Day
AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON CA | AMAZON AU
I don’t know what love is anymore.
Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.
You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?
Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.
Except I haven’t felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem–but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?
That’s how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.
It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I’m a pro. I can handle this.
Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I’m doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don’t think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.
Excerpt
“What brings you to Key West, Beck?”
I feel like that’s a question I should have asked a while ago but with the whole naked hotel room exposure—which I have yet to tell my friends about—and the sweatshirt burial, we haven’t had a real chance to get to know each other. Not that I’m complaining all too much. What I know about Beck so far is that he’s a gentleman and likes to have a good time, even if that means torching a sweatshirt and sending it on it’s way.
There aren’t many people I know who would stand there, hand over heart, talking about the thread count of a sweatshirt while fake crying.
The corner of my lips pull up just from the image of Beck wiping “tears” from his eyes with the back of his index finger.
“Do you want the truth, or do you want a fabricated lie that will cause you to fall madly in love with me?”
Chuckling, I answer, “Both.”
“Fair enough.” Beck pushes his foot against the sand below us, sending the hammock into a relaxing swing. “Want the truth or the lie first?”
“Hmm, how about I guess which is which.”
“Ah, things are about to get exciting.” He chuckles and rubs his hands together. “Okay, reason number one.” He clears his throat. “I’m attending a wedding this coming weekend, a wedding I wasn’t invited to, but my friend begged me to attend because he wanted to bone his wife without children around. It doesn’t make sense, but hey, I’m a good friend so here I am.”
Errr, that’s eerily familiar. I swallow a little harder than expected. There is no way he’s crashing a wedding like me. That’s only something a desperate author does in order to find signs of love again. “Okay, reason number two.”
“My sister is getting married this weekend and I’m giving her away. Our dad passed away a few years ago from a heart attack, and even though we’d been estranged for two years, she asked if I would be a part of her wedding. So here I am.”
Silently he swings us, my mind whirling with what the truth could be. Both stories were told so effortlessly, so he’s either a really good liar, or some kind of con artist. I should be scared. I should go to my hotel room right now, wishing Beck a good night, but I don’t, because I’m intrigued by this man. Behind the good looks and intelligence, there’s something beneath the surface, something dark that makes understandable the age in his weathered eyes.
Because of that, I go with option number two. It seems the most plausible, because who really crashes weddings? Only crazed women with the tendency to sit in a bush with a notepad and pen and take notes while staring at couples and listening in on their conversations.
Research and all, it comes at a high price, like spikey branches to the tush.
“Hmm, I’m going to go with reason number two.”
He nods and says, “I knew you were going to say that, but you’re pretty little self is wrong. I don’t even have a sister.”
Stunned, I prop myself up as best as I can on the loose woven thread of the hammock and stare him down. “You’re here to crash someone’s wedding?”
He winces. “Uh, yeah, kind of.”
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head in disbelief and lie back down.
“Now before you judge me and give me a lecture about RSVPing—”
“I’m not judging you.” I turn toward Beck, the hammock making the shift slightly difficult. “I’m just a little . . . surprised.”
“I don’t plan on eating any food.” He bites his bottom lip. “That’s a lie. I plan on eating a lot, but hey, I’ll bring the party to the dance floor. If anything, I’m bringing them the gift of dance, so you can’t be mad at me for that.”
“I’m not mad.” I laugh, still surprised. “I’m just trying to comprehend this.” Looking him square in the eyes, I say, “I’m here crashing a wedding as well.”
This causes Beck to sit up, his brawny chest straining the fabric of his shirt. He intently studies me, his eyes flitting back and forth until he finally asks, “You’re serious? You’re really crashing a wedding?”
I press my lips together and nod.
A sharp laugh escapes Beck as he lies down on the hammock and sends our swing into more of a frenzied movement. “I’m just going to assume, given our luck of baby puke, naked encounters—”
“I knew you saw boobs.”
“I didn’t see . . . ah hell, what’s the point? I totally saw your tits and fuck, woman, they’re hot.” I blush . . . horrendously, my face heating up along with every vein in my body. “But like I was saying, with our luck, we’re going to the same wedding.”
Clearing my throat, trying to move past the part where Beck just made my nipples harden and pop out like turkey thermometers, I lamely say, “Yeah, that would be our luck.”
“Let me guess, wedding is on Saturday at The Hemingway House.”
Cue another rush of heat to eclipse my body. “The one and only.”
He nods and lies there silently for a second before saying, “So what you’re telling me is that I have a date for the wedding Saturday night.”
Not expecting him to say that, I laugh out loud and for some reason say, “I’m wearing teal, in case you want to match and take couple pictures. You know, might as well do the whole couple thing up, right?”
This garners, a deep, low, rumble of a laugh from Beck. “Thank God I packed grey pants with a white button-down. There won’t be any kind of clashing in those couple photos.”
“Nope, not even in the slightest.”
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
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March 8, 2018
Two Wedding Crashers
Hello, everyone!!
I just wanted to say hi, let you know I’ve been doing super great, and that I’m reading this book… It’s so good!! I’m enjoying it so very much and you’ll soon read my review.
Two Wedding Crashers
By Meghan Quinn
I don’t know what love is anymore.
Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.
You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?
Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.
Except I haven’t felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem–but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?
That’s how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.
It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I’m a pro. I can handle this.
Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I’m doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don’t think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.
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Excerpt
Crystal-blue ocean shines below me, and if I wasn’t so scared of Zoey and her repercussions for being late, I would take the time to appreciate Mother Nature. Instead I hurry into my room, flop my suitcase on my bed, unzip it, and grab my toiletries.
Not taking a second longer, I strip down, leaving my gross airplane clothes on the floor, and practically skip to the shower where I stop mid stride.
In the shower stall is a black razor, with accompanying shaving cream. That’s odd. Is that courtesy of the hotel? This place is fancy, but not that fancy. Spinning on my heel, I turn toward the sink behind me and spot a white and green toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and men’s cologne. Shit, turning toward the room, my eyes frantically roam the space, spotting a black suitcase in the corner.
Shit, shit, shit.
Naked, I cover my breasts with my arm and open the closet door only to come face to face with a few hung-up shirts.
Yup . . . I’m in someone else’s fucking room.
And whoever this room belongs to is the neatest person ever because who honestly lines up there toothbrush and toothpaste tube perfectly on the counter?
Reaching for the phone, I call down to the front desk.
“Mr. Wilder, how can we assist you?” Oh yeah, totally not in the correct room.
“Uh, yeah, hi, this is Rylee Ryan. I just checked in. I was given the key to room 625 and it seems to be occupied.”
“Oh dear, let me check.” There is a pause on the phone and then the lady comes on the line again. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Ryan. We have you in room 626. Would you like to come down here and grab a new key?”
Is she kidding? The trek it took to get over here ate up enough of my time. I can’t possibly take a shower if I have to run back to the lobby, grab a key, and run all the way back here.
“Would you mind bringing it to room 625? I have dinner plans and have to get changed.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone up with a key right away.”
“Thank you.”
I hop around naked, eyeing my pukey clothes on the floor and the shower in the other room. Twisting my lip to the side, I try to decide what to do. I can be super quick, like really fucking quick. I just need to scrub the puke and throw on a dress, simple. Two minutes tops. The water doesn’t even have to be warm. I’ll write a polite note to Mr. Wilder—whoever that is—leave him five dollars as a kind gesture and quietly leave. No problem with that. Right?
Right.
Turning on the shower, I hop in before the water can warm up and hiss from the frosty temperature. I douse soap all over my hands and scrub my neck and body vigorously first, which normally I would wash my hair first but . . . puke. Once I’m satisfied with the amount of scrubbing, I wash my hair, condition it in a minute, do one more soap scrubbing all over my body before rinsing and turning the shower off. Two minutes.
Just in case Mr. Wilder is sitting outside the bathroom, I peek my head out the door, towel wrapped around my body, and call out, “Hello?”
When there is no response, I check that the coast is clear then strut to my suitcase and find a simple black sundress. Not bothering to look for underwear or a bra—I really don’t need one with my perky B-cups—I lay out my dress and dry off.
Hopefully Mr. Wilder doesn’t mind me using one of his towels or his room for that matter. He’s probably some old dude away on his golfing vacation. I hope I don’t give him a heart attack.
I drape my towel over the bed and run my hands through my naturally wavy, black hair. This will have to do. Picking up my towel one more time, I scrunch my hair, trying to soak up all the water just as the hotel door swings open, light blaring through, a tall, dark silhouette shadowed in the doorframe.
I still, frozen from the tips of my toes to the hand scrunching a towel in my hair.
Toned calves and legs are covered by black board shorts, slick to his thighs, a bulge prominent. Narrow waist where his board shorts ride low on his hips, a black shirt dancing across his broad chest, cinching sleeves cuffed over his biceps, and a V-neck providing a glimpse of how far his tan extends. Head cast down, eyes transfixed on his phone in front of him, he doesn’t notice the naked girl standing in the middle of his hotel room. He stuffs his keycard in his back pocket and looks up, startled.
I scream.
He grumbles something unintelligible as I point out the obvious. “Ahhh, my boobs are naked!” It might be a little concerning that I consider my boobs to be the only things naked at this point.
As quickly as I can, I cover my body, towel making a poor attempt to hide my girly bits.
The man turns away, covering his eyes with his arm while muttering, “Oh shit.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, struggling with my towel. I know damn well the man in front of me must be Mr. Wilder, and this is in fact his room, and I’m the one intruding, but I still feel the need to place the blame on him for walking in on me naked.
“Grabbing my sunglasses,” he says, his voice terrified but also deep and rumbly. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Still trying to cover myself, I scramble to grab my dress and back up to the bathroom. “Washing my neck,” I answer, nervously, boobs swaying with my erratic movements.
Eyes still covered, he keeps his back toward me but straightens up. “Washing your neck? Is that code for some kind of weird Key West thing?”
I back into the bathroom and make quick attempt of putting my dress over my head and righting it so everything is covered up. Hair still damp as well as my body, I step out into the room and clear my throat, dress sticking to my damp skin. “No, it’s not code for anything. I really had to wash my neck.”
“And you chose my room to do that in, because . . .”
Bending down, I shove my dirty clothes in my bag and zip up, giving Mr. Wilder the heads-up that I’m dressed. At least he’s a gentleman . . .
When he turns around, he eyes me up and down, his gaze curious and heated when he sees just how hard my nipples are from the cold shower . . . and the unexpected peep show.
“I didn’t choose your room to take a shower in.” I move my suitcase to the floor and pull up the handle. “The hotel gave me the key to this room by mistake, and since I had puke on my neck from the airplane—long story—I decided to take a quick shower while I waited for my room. I apologize for taking up your space, but I think we’re skipping an important detail here.” I cock my hand on my hip. “You saw me naked.”
“No, I didn’t,” he retorts rather quickly, despite the slow grin that spreads across his face.
I’m calling bullshit. “You totally saw my boobs.”
“I really didn’t. Your scream scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have enough time to see anything before you covered up.”
Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You promise you didn’t see anything?”
“Promise.”
Hmm. “Okay, because being hotel neighbors and all, that would be extremely awkward if you saw me naked.”
“Good thing I didn’t then.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. Finally he reaches out to the desk next to him and holds up his black Ray Bans. “Just needed my sunglasses.”
About the Author
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
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March 5, 2018
Interwoven
by Michelle Montebello
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GENRE
Contemporary Romance
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BLURB
Belle Hamilton is a romantic at heart. She’s engaged to the love of her life and dreams of marriage, children and a happily ever after. Belle’s world is close to perfect until one afternoon she makes a decision she can’t take back.
In the blink of an eye, Belle’s life spirals out of control. She loses everything that is dear to her and is forced to flee to the other side of the world where she meets Andrea, a local bartender from Rome, and develops an unexpected connection with him.
Can they break through the complications of past hurts and a long-distance relationship to make it work or will one terrifying night in Paris end it before it had a chance to begin?
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EXCERPT
Belle pushed opened the door and froze.
Time, in all its infinite ticking, slowed and blurred around her. Ben’s room, in contrast, came crashing into focus. On the bed she’d shared countless times with her beloved fiancé was her beloved fiancé, making furious love to another woman. They were naked and panting amidst a tangle of sheets, their skin glistening with sweat. Clothes were strewn across the floor—a pair of lacy red knickers, a little red dress and Ben’s shirt, no longer crisply starched, but a crumpled pile of cotton on the floor.
A cry escaped from Belle’s throat, a horrible guttural sound that made Ben look up and catch sight of her in the doorway. His ferocious lovemaking came to a screeching halt. ‘Belle!’
The room fell silent.
Ben scrambled out of his lady friend and snatched up the sheets, hiding their indiscretion. He climbed to his feet, his eyes frantic, his manhood erect and pointing crudely at her. ‘Belle, what are you doing here?’
Belle shook her head as she backed into the wall, her hands at her mouth. She felt immobile, not wanting to look at them but unable to tear her gaze away. Some desperate part of her wanted to flee the room, to run out the door and go home to Darling Street where she could pretend like it had never happened. Don’t be stupid, Belle. Look at what you’re precious Ben is doing. Look! How can you pretend?
The other woman, a young silver-haired beauty, readjusted the sheet around her and shot Belle a scathing look. She appeared unimpressed with the interruption.
‘Is this her?’ she said, through bright red lips. ‘I thought you’d gotten rid of her.’
Ben’s face turned scarlet. Belle choked back a sob and ran from the room.
‘Belle!’
She heard Ben calling her name but she didn’t stop. She flew down the luxuriously carpeted stairs and snatched up her handbag. She left the groceries and a pile of sticky, half-incorporated dough on the benchtop and sped out the door.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michelle Montebello was born and raised in Sydney, Australia, where she lives with her husband and two young children. She has always had a passion for reading, writing and the dramatic arts and she spent most of her childhood immersed in books, writing stories and performing in plays.
She has worked full-time in the corporate sector since 1998. It wasn’t until she completed a writing course with James Patterson that she was inspired to write and publish her first novel, Interwoven, in 2017.
In addition to her writing, she also has a passion for travel and loves to combine her two favourite things – creative writing and travelling – to create vibrant worlds for her characters to explore.
When this busy mum is not working, chasing little ones or searching under beds for monsters, she can be found reading, writing or plotting her next story.
THE BOOK IS ON SALE FOR $0.99 DURING THE TOUR
https://www.amazon.com.au/s?field-isbn=9780648088011
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07652HFM5
https://books.google.com/books?vid=ISBN9780648088004
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/interwoven-1
https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/interwoven/id1292483837
https://itunes.apple.com/book/interwoven/id1292483837
Follow her on social media
Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/michellemontebelloauthor/
Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/michellemontebelloauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/michelle_monteb
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GIVEAWAY
Michelle will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
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MY REVIEW
Belle Hamilton is a romantic girl. When the story begins she’s engaged with the love of her life, Ben. They have been together for over a decade, and Belle knows in her heart of hearts that being together, starting a family and finding their happily ever after is a given. Until her world turns upside down and she looses everything she thought she had, Ben and even her carer.
He was her soulmate, her first love, her entire world. Her relationship was just as it should be. There was nothing she would change.
Desperate for a clean start, she’s encourage by her mother and best friend, Riley, to travel and find peace. So they do, Bella and her friend start travelling the world until they met a lovely Canadian girl, Avery, who invites them to join her in Rome.
Belle didn’t know who she belonged to or where to slot in. She was neither here nor there and she felt much like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.
Where in Rome… apparently you fall in love. There she meets a handsome bartender, Andrea, and develops an unexpected connection with him that could potentially lead to something more. But, is Bella willing to lower her defenses and allow love and happiness into her heart again?
“I don’t know what brought you here, Belle, but I know you’ll be okay,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring.
Both Bella and Andrea have complicated past, and they both deal with it in different ways. It very interesting to see how they both break through the difficulties and try to make it work, first their friendship, then… maybe something more. If it wasn’t for a terrifying night in Paris that might end it all before it starts.
He wasn’t like Ben. He wasn’t self-assured or as confident. He wasn’t interested in material possessions or how much money he could make. He seemed happiest with the simpler things in life─slow walks to work, good food and warm company.
Michelle Montebello’s writing style is very enjoyable and descriptive. The extreme detail of her scenes have you right there in the scene along with her characters. Her character’s are also relatable, genuine to the bone and very realistic. The book is beautifully colored with messages of love, faith, second chances and how everything around us is interconnected. Congratulations! It’s a great book to read.
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February 28, 2018
Don’t Let Him Go
Hello, everyone!
Today I have the virtual book tour of Don’t Let Him Go by Kay Harris organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
Kay Harris will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Candace Gleason passed the bar, landed a great job, and is making a killer salary–basically, all of her dreams are coming true. Until she’s assigned to keep the boss’s petulant son out of trouble.
Jack Morrison is the rebellious black sheep of a mighty real estate family. He runs a nonprofit whose mission is to save poor people from evil corporations, like the one his own family owns. He is obnoxious, ridiculously charming, and insanely hot. He is the bane of Candace’s very existence.
Sparks fly from the moment they meet. Candace suddenly has more to worry about than keeping Jack out of jail. She has to keep him out of her heart.
Excerpt
I folded my arms across my chest and glared at Jack as he moseyed into the room. “You ambushed me.”
Jack came to a stop a few feet away and nodded. “I did.”
“That’s it?” I spread my arms out and leaned forward. My voice rose despite my effort to control it. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say? You’re smart. You can see what I did back there. I used you for my own gain.”
“You’re a prick!”
“I’m not surprised you feel that way. But I am sorry you had to get caught in the crossfire.” He moved to the couch and took a seat in the middle of it, purposefully giving me the high ground.
He slung his arms over the back of the couch casually, making him look like an arrogant ass. And that is exactly what I thought of him at that moment. So I called him on his supposed apology. “Are you?”
“Yes, I am. But you’re not innocent, Candie. You put yourself in this position by going to work for Morrison.”
“It’s Candace!” I shouted, on the edge of insanity.
He didn’t respond. He just looked at me with that infuriatingly handsome face and waited, an amused grin dancing on his face.
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About the Author
Kay Harris has had a diverse career with jobs ranging from college professor to park ranger. Now she adds author to her repertoire. Kay writes romance novels that contain a little bit of sweet, a dash of sexy, a touch of heartbreak, and a whole lot of fun!
Kay grew up in the Midwest and has since lived all over the western United States including Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and California. She loves to hike, is obsessed with museums, and enjoys taking her extremely tall and very handsome husband on adventures.
Social Media Links:
WEBSITE: http://www.kayharrisauthor.com
BLOG: https://www.kayharrisauthor.com/blog/
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/KayHarrisAuthor
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKayHarris/
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15060640.Kay_Harris
BOOKBUB: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kay-harris
Get her book today!
AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Dont-Let-Want-Morrison-Book-ebook/dp/B0795FR2PC
BARNES AND NOBLE: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dont-let-him-go-kay-harris/1127851590;jsessionid=96B953E9DCA4CF67DBA014BFF9BF3AC3.prodny_store01-atgap12
Giveaway
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February 22, 2018
Forbidden Lyrics
Fans of contemporary romance shouldn’t miss this one–be sure to grab your copy today!
About The BookFalling in love with your best friend’s sister is never a good idea. Getting caught kissing her, that’s even worse.
I watched Lizzie Donovan grow up – from pigtails and scraped knees to pouty lips and lush curves.
It wasn’t until one night nine years ago in the front seat of her car, with her lips on mine, that I realized what I was feeling was far more than friendship.
Of course, I felt her brother’s wicked left hook shortly after.
One promise was all it took to push her away.
Not anymore.
This is my chance.
I have three months to convince her that she’s the song in my heart and we’re more than just forbidden lyrics.
Add FORBIDDEN LYRICS to your Goodreads shelf here!
Grab your copy of FORBIDDEN LYRICS on Amazon today!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2CtBWNl
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2CuuO3j
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2CvV8db
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2CuQOee
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Excerpt
The house lights dim, leaving the whole place practically in darkness. A hush falls over the crowd as if the lack of light was in control of their voices. Pretty sure we’re the only table that knows what’s about to happen.
The steady beat of a drum, counting out a punishing rhythm break through the silence. A bass guitar joins in, followed closely by two more guitars. It’s a pattern I’ve heard all my life. Each instrument getting its turn to take the spotlight before coming together as a whole.
A spotlight cuts through the darkness and every girl in the room loses their mind before rushing the stage. Flashes from cell phones compete against the swirling lights illuminating the dance floor. The four of them stand there, perfectly comfortable in their surroundings, taking command of the area. Kade winds at the girls in front while Myles struts his stuff along the right side of the stage. You can barely see Pax’s head above the drum set, but every once in a while, you sneak a glimpse of his smile.
But that’s not what I’m focusing on. No, I’m drawn to the one standing off to the side, keeping a constant rhythm and not drawing as much attention to himself. Damn. If I thought Breck looked good sitting on a bar stool, he looks a million times better with a spotlight shining directly on him.
Don’t miss the other LIGHTNING STRIKES books!
SERENADING THE SHADOWS
No one should have their life planned out at the age of three. Yet that’s exactly what happened to Adrienne Carmichael. Paving the way as the “piano prodigy” was all her parents wanted…Only she didn’t.
All she wished for was to be normal, to be a regular teenager and everything that came with it—including the decisions that would shape her life.
Wish granted.
Ten years later, scarred and broken, she knows that being alone isn’t everything she imagined. The piano is finally everything, except nobody will ever hear her play again.
All that changes when a sexy-as-sin rock god blows into her life. Tall and tattooed with jet-black hair and a dangerous bad boy smile…he’s every girl’s fantasy.
To her, he’s a distraction, yet Kade Evans is everything she shouldn’t want.
Instinct tells her to run, but she can’t get him out of her mind.
But may, just maybe he can be the one to pull her from the shadows before the darkness swallows her…for good.
GOODREADS / AMAZON
NOTES OF THE PAST
I love women.
And it’s easy to see why. Being the lead guitarist for the country’s hottest band, Lightning Strikes, has them practically jumping into my bed and walking out the door just as quick. Which is perfect for me. Emotions
complicate things, and I don’t do complicated.
Not anymore.
Sure, I was in love once, and it was great. Then it was gone. That’s when I vowed never again. Life is better without empty, broken promises.
After five years of hard work, sacrifices, and determination, everything I’ve ever wanted is in my grasp: a successful career, touring city after city and being accountable to no one.
Then she starts appearing in the crowds. The girl I once loved, and who walked away.
Only, Tatum Mitchell wasn’t just any girl; she was my girl.
Will she be the wedge that drives the last part of my heart away, or will she break down the walls I’ve built. We’re connected through the lyrics of our heart and the notes of our past, but is that enough?
GOODREADS / AMAZON
About The AuthorJodie Larson is a wife and mother to four beautiful girls, making their home in northern Minnesota along the shore of Lake Superior. When she isn’t running around to various activities or working her regular job, you can find her sitting in her favorite spot reading her new favorite book or camped out somewhere quiet trying to write her next manuscript. She’s addicted to reading (just ask her kids or husband) and loves talking books even more so with her friends. She’s also a lover of all things romance and happily ever afters, whether in movies or in books, as shown in her extensive collection of both.
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