R.E. Hargrave's Blog, page 139

BOOK BLITZ: Her Summer Prince by Freda Ann #GIVEAWAY

Her Summer Prince
Freda Ann
Publication date: August 31st 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

This sweet/clean Hallmark style love story will make you laugh, cry, and give you goosebumps all the way to a happy ending! *

Prince of Shorewick and next in line to the throne, Harry has more than enough on his plate, between his royal duties and overbearing Queen mother. During one fateful summer in Bliss Cay, his life changes forever when he meets the girl of his dreams.

Celebrating her graduation on the island, Charlotte Warren is swept off her feet by her knight in shining armor, falling hard and fast for this dashing stranger.

When a horrible tragedy comes calling, Harry is forced to pack up and leave Bliss without a moment’s notice for the Kingdom of Shorewick. In the mad dash to get home, Harry realizes too late that he left without saying goodbye.

Ten years pass of lost contact, and only now has Charlotte’s heart begun to mend after the heartache Harry inflicted. Now a successful businesswoman and mother to her beautiful son Noah and furry companion Chloe, Charlotte finally takes the jump and decides to return to Bliss Cay for the first time since that fateful summer.

Returning to the island is a step towards conquering her past, but instead she finds herself face to face with the man who shattered her heart into a million pieces.

The last decade has changed them both. Harry has the responsibility of the monarchy looming over him, yet all he wants is to live his life with the woman he loves…a commoner in the eyes of the monarchy.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

“Hey—you! The lady said to leave her alone. I suggest you do it. Now!”

I scan the direction where the contemptuous voice came from, and a tall dark figure steps from the shadows full of grace and virility.

Good Lord, where did the Adonis come from? I swear my heart skips a beat. A sigh of relief escapes me as my eyes, acting of their own volition, are drawn to what I can see of his face.

Not stopping there, they examine his firm features and confident shoulders. Please tell me I’m not dreaming. This guy is a photographer’s dream. Whew!

My involuntary perusal of the individual in front of us seems to be amusing as a corner of his mouth curls up. He pulls his gaze away, eyeing the idiot who has me pinned against the railing of the dock, an arm on each side of me.

When I strutted to the end of the dock moments ago, my focus was on a sliver of the moon peeking out from the horizon, and while I was snapping photos I suppose I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings.

Barely able to stand, the man restricting my movement glares at the Adonis with glassy eyes, as if he was from another planet. “I saw—“

He hangs his head low, looking pale before finishing, “I—saw her f—first.”

“Huh. So you saw her last year…before I proposed to her on this beach?” I raise my brows as Adonis fans his hand through the air while easing closer.

The guy, reeking of alcohol, glances in the direction Mr. Perfect motioned to. His legs wobble when he attempts to turn back around.

While the guy struggles to stay upright, Adonis flicks his head at me for my attention. Duh…does he not realize he’s had it from the minute he showed up? I tip my chin up, watching to see what he’s going to do.

He uses dummy proof sign language, pointing to the inebriated man and motioning for me to move out of the way when he grabs him.

Bobbing my head, he wastes no time going into action and I take off running halfway down the dock to watch for the fallout.

As luck would have it, not a hair was harmed on his head or anywhere else on that hunky body. The weakened man didn’t even attempt to put up a fight.

Holding tightly onto him, they pass by me with a strong odor of alcohol in their wake. I trail behind flailing my hand in front of my face trying to breathe fresh air.

At the end of the dock, he mumbles something to the guy before pointing him to the left. He gives him a push off for good measure. I’m surprised he didn’t fall over.

He watches intently until the lanky frame fades into the night. As Mr. Perfect turns to face me, the light reveals his compelling blue eyes with a faint hint of humor bubbling beneath the surface.

Feeling more nervous than I was while being held against my will, I exhale and lock eyes with my savior. “Thank you, um…for that.” I point to the dead air feeling like a dumb blonde. “I was afraid I might have to resort to unladylike measures before you came along.” I snicker.

He grins looking devilishly handsome. The shadow of his well-groomed, closely shaven beard gives him an even manlier aura, if that’s even possible. Bearded men aren’t typically my type, but the guy totally rocks facial hair.

“I was happy to be of assistance.” He gives me a sideways nod. Well, that was different. Who nods like that?

The man has a very appealing British accent which compliments his tall, dark and handsome physique. Could Adonis get any more perfect?

Author Bio:

Freda was born in southern New Jersey but grew up in Florida. She has loved writing her entire life. After retiring from a career in law enforcement, she knew it was time to fulfill her lifelong dream of being a published author.

She's the author of The Hawaii Series, proudly named from her love of the beautiful Hawaiian Islands. It's a three-book series with all of them written as standalone books.

Freda loves her large family, horses, dogs, cat, and close friends. She hosts monthly family dinners at her home in the country, which she shares with her husband.

She loves baking (she owned and operated a cupcake business for years), cooking, yoga, crocheting, nature and traveling with the love of her life.

What helps her write? Music makes her happy! If music doesn't give her the right motivation, she puts on a romantic movie, usually from the Hallmark Channel, which she can't get enough of!

Freda speaks her mind and pushes perfection to its limit. She strives to be her best, most positive self she can be in life. With time, determination, and practice, she believes anything is possible.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Pinterest

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BOOK BLITZ: A Chip on Her Shoulder by R.J. Blain #GIVEAWAY

A Chip on Her Shoulder
R.J. Blain
(Magical Romantic Comedies #11)
Publication date: September 1st 2020
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

After a deal with loan sharks sours, Darlene’s brother is permanently transformed into a chipmunk. Not one to accept impossibility as a good excuse for failure, she’s determined to rescue her brother and secure revenge against those who’d poisoned him with grade-a transformatives.

If she wants to perform a miracle, she’ll need to join forces with a divine, but the man upstairs and his angels refuse to help.

None of the other so-called benevolent divines are willing to help her, either.

Running out of time and options, Darlene prepares to storm the gates of hell for her brother.

She never expected to fall in love with the Devil.

Warning: this novel contains a woman with a chip on her shoulder, humor, and one hell of a hero. Proceed with caution.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

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EXCERPT:

Rather than try to talk my brother out of the money he rightfully owed them, the local mafia’s loan sharks opted for a more permanent solution to their problem. They transformed my asshole brother, Jonas, into a chipmunk and saddled me with the bill.

My brother had lost his human life for five thousand dollars.

What a waste.

Since that wasn’t bad enough, the goons my brother had pissed off forced me to watch the entire process, which involved forcing him to drink a vial of clear fluid. The transformation took a matter of minutes, and he started screaming within seconds of consuming their concoction.

It took until he’d shrunk to half his true size to stop screaming, and he squealed instead.

Shapeshifting hurt like hell; I went through the gruesome process every few days, when my thin, human skin drove me to the brink of madness. Some days, I took on my more hybrid form, sporting a tail and my feline ears. Sometimes, I tossed in a light coat of spotted fur to ease my discomfort. Sometimes, I kept the thin, human skin to pretend I fit in with the rest of the neighborhood, hiding my tail and ears beneath my clothes. One day I’d give up on hiding my true nature. Every rare now and again, my hybrid transformation came with a full coat of fur, my ears, and my beautiful tail, something I loved.

My light coat was a mockery of my full glory, and one day, I’d master my magic so I decided which parts of me had light fur, no fur, or a thick coat best suited for wintry mountains.

My spots were my best assets, and I loved each and every one of them. Life would be so much better when I could wear my spots whenever I wanted.

When the mood struck me, the night was young, and the weather was cool, I ran as a snow leopard, displaying every one of my spots and hunting through suburbia for prey, typically one of the more annoying squirrels or rabbits to menace my garden.

I’d be hunting for bigger prey soon enough, and I kept my expression cold and calm. Warning my prey I would be coming for them wouldn’t do.

A wise huntress gave no warning before the ambush, and I would use every opportunity to crush the entire mafia. Unlike the local law enforcement, who played by civilized rules, there would be nothing civilized about me.

They had destroyed my family, so I would destroy their family. No, I would do far worse than merely destroy their family. I would destroy their ambition while I was at it. When I finished with them, ruin and suffering would be all I left in my wake.

Sometimes, I was not a very good person. Actually, no. Most of the time I was not a very good person.

I’d learned early on being good left me taken advantage of, alone, and miserable. When I did good, I did it because I wanted to, expecting nothing in return, for I’d learned that lesson well enough.

What went around rarely came around, and I’d gained nothing from any of the good I’d done in my life.

I kept my breaths slow and even, waiting while doing my best to detach myself from the reality of my situation. Panic would win me nothing, neither would fear. Patience might win me a lot, depending on what I learned in the next few minutes.

One of the thugs, someone who’d gotten into a fight with a fire and lost, held a rather nasty gun to my head to make sure I behaved.

I behaved, but only because we had one rule in our household of two: survival came first. Once I survived my current mess, I would add a new rule to our household of one and a rodent: revenge would come eventually.

I couldn’t win against eight men who’d cut their teeth on violence, not even if I transformed and put my sharp claws to good use. Not yet. I’d keep my claws a secret for a little while longer, and when I brought them out, I would shred their entire outfit.

Revenge would be mine, and I would enjoy obtaining it.

Revenge wouldn’t save my brother. If I had fought against the mafia he’d tangoed with, I couldn’t have saved him anyway. They likely would have killed us both. I’d find some way to do the impossible and restore my brother somehow. The man my brother had been was gone, replaced by a chipmunk with a rodent’s puny little brain.

No, he was still my brother, but he possessed a rodent’s puny little brain. He might remember me. He might even be able to understand English and allow me to keep him outside of a cage.

Maybe.

That stung.

My brother was an asshole. He probably deserved some form of punishment at the hands of the mafia, but he was my asshole brother, and nobody beat him other than me.

I would make that our third household rule, and I would adhere to it.

I took my time memorizing the faces of those who’d pay for their crimes. Their scars would make them easy to identify. I wouldn’t forget their scars, I wouldn’t forget their faces, and I gave it a week for me to learn their names.

Then the fun would truly begin.

They weren’t the only ones who could get their hands on transformative drugs. It just cost a little money or having the right ingredients available. I could get the money, and I could go where the rare ingredients grew.

So hellbent on revenge, I barely remembered the conversation leading up to my brother’s transformation into a rather small rodent. I remembered the part about the money, where they wanted me to bring it and when, but the rest remained a blur.

I needed to memorize their scarred faces so I could do what an Esmaranda woman did when she got mad.

I’d get even, and I’d charge interest.

My mother, may her soul rest in peace, had taught me that from the day I’d busted out of maternal prison and escaped her womb.

Picking my brother up by his furry little tail, the lead asshole, who had a rather ugly scar over his nose where someone had failed to slice his skull in half, tossed him my way. I forgot about the gun pointed at me, scrambling to catch my brother so he wouldn’t escape. He squealed and squeaked protests before biting the hell out of my hand.

What an utter asshole. I prevented him from running away and losing all chance of becoming human again, and he bit me? When I refused to let my brother go, he took another chomp out of the fleshy part of my hand connecting my index finger and thumb.

I bled.

The mafia goons laughed, and then they left.

They’d pay for that, too.

Come hell or high water, they’d pay.

Author Bio:

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.

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NEW RELEASE: Corrupt by Elena M. Reyes

Title: CorruptSeries: Beautiful Sinners Series Spin-OffAuthor: Elena M. ReyesGenre: Romantic Suspense/New AdultRelease Date: June 24, 2020

Corruption is the key to success and I'm the collector of all debts.The first time I laid eyes on my little flower, she was dressed up—a beautiful temptation wrapped in perfection that I wanted to own. Possess. To take away from the pseudo perfect life that reeks with the narcissistic chains—the demands—holding her down.She's a pawn.The daughter of my enemy.Solimar Quintero is the future Mrs. Alejandro Lucas and doesn't even know it. She isn't aware that the man she smiles at—taunts to come closer—is a criminal. A wanted man. A nightmare for his enemies and her future.I always get what I want.






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“Yeah, but the wife isn’t...” he’s talking, animatedly waving his hand between us, but I’ve stopped listening. There’s a sudden prickling sensation—an undercurrent that travels through my body as a giggle meets my ears—and my cock swells at the sound. It’s feminine and arousing, and I can’t stop myself from looking over at the private section across from mine.
A group of women, in their early twenties at the most, arrive and take their places around the center table where their drinks of choice await. At once, I’m picking apart their faces, trying to decipher which family in the capital they belong to. None seem familiar, though.
They’re laughing.
Shooting shots of clear liquid.
All except one.
Motherfucking Preciosa. I can’t take my eyes off the one to the far right and how she moves her hips sensually to the rhythm of reggaeton. She’s mouthwatering, and my heart beats like the stampede of a thousand wild beasts. My muscles tighten. My jaw ticks.
The sounds around us dim and my cock hardens, pulsing as the beautiful doll across from me twirls. Once. Twice. Five times while her hips undulate to the beat, the bottom of her strapless dress swirling around her mid-thighs.
She’s beautiful. Utterly indecent perfection.
On the last turn, her eyes wander my way and lock on mine. Light grey on my cognac, a bolt of volcanic need rushes down my spine. Licks at my skin. I’m aroused and hungry and near clawing at my flesh, but I stay right where I am.
My eyes traverse her short frame in a minuscule blush-colored party dress. I take in how the fabric shimmers, almost glowing around her with each tempting move. From her dainty, high-heeled feet to her slim waist and thick hips—to those larger-than-a-handful tits pushed up against the thin fabric—I find her to be the physical embodiment of sin. A temptation I won’t deny myself.
Not when her lips quirk up into a shy smile.
Not when a touch of pink sweeps across her cheeks.
Not when she subtly squeezes her thighs.
I see it. Her. Every delicious inch makes me throb, and pinning her beneath me is all I can focus on. 
“Are you even listening to me?”
“No.”
“What’s got you so...oh. You found her.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask Daniel, but my eyes remain on her, taking in how she bites her lower lip before accepting the shot the girl beside her offers. The little flower throws it back without pause; a small shiver runs through her—nipples pebbling into stiff little peaks as I watch her stand beneath soft lighting. I catalog the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The clenching of her small fingers around the glass. “You know her?”
“I do.”
My head snaps in his direction and my eyes narrow. “Explain?” I grit out, the malice behind my tone clear. For the first time in all our years of friendship, I want to shoot him, snap his neck, and all because the grin on his face holds a hint of salaciousness. Of a familiarity. “Talk, man, before conclusions are made that are not in your favor.”
“Why so possessive?”
There’s a tumultuous storm brewing within, a thick cord that snaps and I pull my gun out, finger on the trigger before rationalizing my actions. “Now isn’t the time to test me.”
His hands go up and his face loses all trace of humor. “Parce, this is—”
“Who. Is. She?”
“My gift.”
“Gift?” 
“Yes.” He swallows hard, eyes on my finger over the trigger. The same one that’s twitching. “That’s Solimar Quintero, my friend. The president’s daughter.”






Elena M. Reyes is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.As a small child, she was always intrigued by all forms of art: whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure, but it wasn't until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She's a short and sassy Latina with an adorable pup, a kiddo that keeps her on her toes, and a husband who claims she'll cause him to go bald prematurely. Lol

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BOOK BLITZ: Scandal's Promise by Pamela Gibson #GIVEAWAY

Scandal’s Promise
Pamela Gibson
Publication date: August 19th 2020
Genres: Adult, Historical Romance

Haunted by questions and her own insecurities, Lady Emily Sinclair longs to discover why her betrothed abandoned her and married another. Seven years have passed, but the pain of his betrayal still lingers, buried beneath layers of humiliation and mistrust. When he returns after the Napoleonic Wars, she vows to avoid him. If only her foolish heart felt the same.

Broken and addicted to his medication, widower Andrew Quimby, Lord Cardmore, rattles around his ancient manor, oblivious to his deteriorating health and state of mind. When he learns the woman he was forced to abandon remains unmarried, he vows to try to win her back, even if it means returning to a society he despises.

But Andrew soon discovers he has a secret enemy. Threatening notes appear and sinister accidents put those in his inner circle in danger. Can he overcome his demons in time to keep them safe or will everyone and everything he loves disappear forever.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

A tiny birdlike woman with sharp features stared at him from across the room. Her bonnet and outwear lay neatly on a chair. Next to it was the heavy woolen coat and hat of the young boy with frightened eyes who clutched her hand.

Andrew’s breath hitched as he looked at the child. Blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears, peeked up at him from a narrow face with a defiant chin. His guinea-gold tousled hair was cut short and his clothes were fashionable, albeit wrinkled.

The woman raised her head and glared at him. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I realize the hour is late. My name is Bricker. I was told to deliver Master George to you and then be on my way. I’ve taken a room in the village coaching house for the night, and I will return to London in the morning.”

Andrew forced himself to meet her gaze and speak in a calm voice while turmoil swirled in his gut.

“You can’t leave him here.”

“I can and I will.”

“Why now?”

“My employer’s wife has passed on, and he has no interest in the child. Madame was the one who insisted on providing the boy with a home. Master George was the only link she had with her daughter.”

“And you?”

“I’ve been his nurse since his birth at his grandparents’ London home.”

“If you are leaving, who will care for him?”

“With all due respect, that’s your problem, my lord.”

She turned to the child who began to sob. He buried his face in her skirts and fisted his small hands in the folds, his back shaking.

Her body vibrated with hatred. “See what you’ve done. You’ve upset him. He’s only six years old and not accustomed to cold toffs like you.”

Andrew stiffened, repressing the urge to curse. Instead he modulated his tone. “He cannot stay. I have no staff, no nursery. There’s nothing here for him to wear or play with. You must leave and take him back to where you came from.”

“His valise is outside in the hall. It has his belongings. He hasn’t much. As you would know if you’d deigned to take an interest in him.”

He supposed the verbal blow was deserved, despite the circumstances now confronting him, but his patience was at an end.

What the bloody hell am I to do with a child?

“You’re right. I know nothing about children. You can see he’s distressed. Can you not stay? I can pay you.” Panic gripped his throat, threatening to strangle him.

“I have another post. And now I must take my leave. ’Tis cold and wet, and I long for my bed.”

“Don’t go,” implored Andrew. “He’s crying. What does he need?”

“Give him a bit of soup and a bed. He’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

She disengaged the boy’s hands and bent down to face him. “You mustn’t cry, Master George. This is your home now. I’m sure his lordship must have a horse or two in his stables. You’ll see what a fine house this is when morning comes.”

The woman led the boy to a spindly chair and seated him. The child hid his face in his hands and wailed like his heart was broken. With a final pat, she put on her coat and hat and strode toward the door. “My hired conveyance is waiting. I’ll see myself out.” Footsteps echoed in the hall, fading as the woman reached the outer door.

Ralston stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes wide. The child’s wailing increased, and Andrew cringed. How was he to stop the noise? His valet hovered near the doorway. “Lester. Bring the new housemaid. I believe her name is Matilda. She should be in Mrs. Evans’s quarters or nearby.”

“Very good, milord.”

Ralston, who’d been silent during the drama seemed to recover from his stupor and frowned. “Do you even know who this is?”

“Sadly, I do.”

“Do you mind enlightening me? I admit, this is more entertainment than I’ve had in a decade.”

“His name is George.”

“I believe I got that.”

“He is—he is my son.”

Ralston fell into a nearby chair. “I’m astonished. I’d heard Caroline died in childbirth, but I thought the child was stillborn.”

“He’s very much alive, as you can see. And hear.”

Author Bio:

Author of eight books on California history and fifteen romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in the Nevada desert. Having spent the last three years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of Ralph, the Rescue Cat. If you want to learn more about her activities go to https://www.pamelagibsonwrites.com and sign up for her quarterly newsletter and occasional blog. Or follow her in these places:

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BOOK BLITZ: Playing with Fire by R.J. Blain #GIVEAWAY

Playing with Fire
R.J. Blain
(Magical Romantic Comedies #1)
Publication date: January 30th 2017
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

What do you get when you mix gorgons, an incubus, and the Calamity Queen? Trouble, and lots of it.

For Bailey, catering to the magical is a tough gig on a good day, but she has few other options. She can either keep spiking drinks with pixie dust to keep the locals happy, or spend the rest of her life cleaning up some of the world’s nastiest magical substances.

Years after helping Police Chief Samuel Quinn escape an unhappy marriage, Bailey is once again entangled in his personal affairs. To make matters worse, Quinn’s ex-wife is angling for revenge, tossing Bailey into the deep end along with her sexiest enemy.

Warning: This novel contains excessive humor, action, excitement, adventure, magic, romance, and bodies. Proceed with caution.

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Only 99¢ for a limited time!

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EXCERPT:

No one in their right mind would ever license me as a private investigator, but that didn’t stop people from coming to me when they needed something found. Fortunately, I liked my job as the only human barista at Faery Fortunes Coffee and Book Shop. Most came for a cup of joe and left too buzzed to read a thing, but who was I to complain? People paid top dollar for their pixie dust infused latte, and they tipped me well not to judge them.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t so fond of Chief Quinn. When he walked through the door, bad things usually happened to someone—me. For him to come in five minutes after opening, long before the sun even thought about rising, he needed something, and it wasn’t a cup of coffee. Why couldn’t he want coffee? I could deal with making him a drink, and I’d double his dose of pixie dust to keep him happy.

I gave the espresso machine a defiant swipe of my cleaning cloth before stepping to the counter to deal with Manhattan’s Most Wanted Bachelor. Without my help, he’d still be married, too.

What a way to start the day.

And to think people wondered why I refused to help find anything for anyone anymore. The reason stood across the counter from me. Chief Samuel Quinn, aged thirty, hotter than sin, and my heaven and hell rolled together in one smoking tall, dark, and handsome package, hated me for good reason. It was his fault, too. He had been the one to ask me for help finding his wife. I had found her all right, right in the middle of teaching a college stud the nuances of the reverse cowgirl.

If no one asked me to find something or someone again for the rest of my life, I’d be a very happy woman.

“Chief Quinn, what a pleasant surprise,” I lied. “Can I get you something? A dark roast, cream, no sugar, light on the dust?”

Why couldn’t I have been blessed with forgetfulness? I knew my worst nightmare’s favorite drink, and I had to make it for him first thing in the morning. Of course I knew it. He came in at least three times a week to torment me. Screw it. Who was I kidding? Instead of the coffee, he could take me instead. If I had to put up with the hassle of dealing with him, why couldn’t I enjoy it, too?

“Cream, no dust, and make it a large, Bailey.”

Alarm bells tinkled in my head. Since when did Chief Quinn address me by my first name? On a good day, he snapped my last name like he worried it would contaminate him. “Of course, sir.”

The faster I made his coffee, the sooner he’d go away. I’d love every second I spent watching him go. In less than a minute, I had his drink ready, and to lower the risk of him spending any extra time with me, I chirped, “It’s on me today, Chief Quinn. Have yourself a nice morning.”

If it meant we parted without incident, it’d be well worth the five bucks.

He saluted me with his cup, flashed a hint of a smile, and walked out the door. Facing him was hell, but I glimpsed the heavens when he left, and if my panties hadn’t caught on fire under my jeans, I’d be very, very surprised.

Author Bio:

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

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BOOK BLITZ: The Promise Kept by Maggie Mae Gallagher #GIVEAWAY

The Promise Kept
Maggie Mae Gallagher
(Echo Springs, #2)
Publication date: August 19th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Cybil Roe gave her heart away thirteen years ago only to have it wind up shattered. With painstaking determination, she has rebuilt her life into something to be proud of today. Yet all her future plans are upended when the only man she has ever loved returns to Echo Springs. Nor does it help that he seems bound and determined to draw her back into his life. Cybil vows to stay away from him, no matter what seeing him all the time does to her resolve.

Miles Keaton wiped the dust of his hometown off his shoes years ago, never expecting that life would lead him back to the place where he had begun. Coming home to Echo Springs, to Cybil, to start a new law practice and a new life is a risk he never thought he’d take. She hates him – with good reason. Years ago, he walked away when she needed him the most. But now is he back, and intends to argue the case of his life, one more important than any he has debated in a courtroom, because she is the one woman he cannot live without.

Can Miles convince Cybil to take a second chance on him, or will a secret she has kept all these years destroy any future they might have?

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PLUS! Book 1 - The Fixer Upper - is only 99¢ for a limited time!

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EXCERPT:

“Oh, yes. Right there,” she murmured.

Cybil sighed at the strong hands kneading her tense shoulders. Golden sunshine warmed her skin. Azure waves lapped against the pristine, ivory sand not fifteen feet from where she lounged on a luxurious padded chaise. Her tanned skin glistened in the sun. The coconut scent from her suntan lotion wafted on the gentle breeze and mingled with the salt from the ocean waves. The simmering heat of the tropics caused perspiration to bead on her forehead and evaporate with the light wind. The sunglasses perched on her nose shaded her gray eyes from the radiant sunlight.

It was without a doubt a perfect day.

The light breeze played with the loose tendrils of her inky hair while the sexy-as-sin Pablo—he of the broad, tanned shoulders, gorgeously thick black hair, and soulful eyes—massaged her shoulders with his long, talented fingers. The man had the most wonderful, gifted hands and knew precisely where to exert the most pressure. And those thumbs of his were singularly skilled at ferreting out every ache and pain.

God, she had needed this getaway—away from the cold, the snow, the dreaded holidays, and nonstop work.

She muffled a moan.

Cybil couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this relaxed. She could still taste the lime and salt from her frozen margarita. And she was a breath away from suggesting to Pablo that they take the massage indoors to her beachside bungalow. The thought of those hands massaging other regions of her body left her achy and needy. It had been so long since she had been with a man. Since this was a vacation, she didn’t have to worry about getting attached. Cybil moaned as he dug into a knot on her left shoulder.

Pablo lowered his face. Cybil shivered, heady anticipation humming along her skin. Was he going to nibble on her ear? Suggest naughty, decadent delights to be had if they retreated indoors? She was ready and willing for anything the guy had in mind.

“Purrr.” A cold, wet nose pressed against the side of her cheek where it met her ear, amplifying the sound. The purr increased in tenor. Something tickled her nose.

Cybil cracked an eye open. A pair of golden eyes stared at her with expectation and determination, with a side of feline disdain that she had yet to acknowledge him.

Author Bio:

Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Maggie grew up listening to Cardinals baseball and reading anything she could get her hands on. She remembers her mother saying if only she would read the right type of books instead binging her way through the romance aisles at the bookstore, she’d have been a doctor. While Maggie never did get that doctorate, she graduated cum laude from the University of Missouri-St. Louis with an M.A. in History.

Maggie is a bestselling and award-winning author published in multiple fiction genres. She also writes erotic romance under the name Anya Summers. A total geek at her core, when she is not writing, she adores attending the latest comic con or spending time with her family. She currently lives in the United States Midwest with her two furry felines.

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BOOK BLITZ: Pandemonium by Susanna Strom #GIVEAWAY

Pandemonium
Susanna Strom
(World Fallen, #1)
Publication date: August 18th 2020
Genres: Adult, Post-Apocalyptic, Romance, Suspense

The intersection of danger and desire

Kenzie Dunwitty is laser focused on finishing college and landing a job that will give her the security she craves. With a deadline looming, she disconnects to finish a paper. When she emerges, the world is sliding into chaos. Overnight, a simple flu virus has morphed into a lethal, worldwide pandemic. Kenzie seeks refuge at her prepper cousin’s compound and finds herself face to face with a deadly sexy stranger.

Ripper Solis, ex-Army Ranger and current enforcer for an outlaw motorcycle club, protects the people he considers his own. He’s not a nice guy. Not a man that a woman turns to for support and comfort. Not the bad boy hero in the romance novels Kenzie’s escaped into for years. Or is he?

As law and order break down, and the ever-present threat of the virus hangs over their heads, Ripper’s strength and resourcefulness offer an irresistible allure. Sexy and commanding, he’s everything she ever wanted. Their chemistry is combustible.

Will love save the day, or will the perilous new world obliterate their future?

Pandemonium is the first novel in the exciting new World Fallen series. Maelstrom, book two of the World Fallen series, coming October 27.

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—

CHAPTER ONE:

Kenzie

I slicked my wet hair back from my face and grabbed the towel that I’d slung over the shower curtain rod. A shadow fell across the plastic curtain. I glanced down at the three-inch gap between the bottom of the waterproof fabric and the floor. Bare feet—the toenails painted a bright apple green—shambled past the shower stall.

Jeez. At 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning, I’d figured I was alone in the big, communal bathroom. Whoever walked by was ignoring the unspoken rules of dorm life, not to mention common sense. You didn’t sneak up on somebody in the middle of the night. You called out “Coming through” or “Hi” so you wouldn’t startle them or look like a creeper. And nobody in their right mind walked across a public bathroom with bare feet. Hadn’t they heard of foot fungus?

Muttering to myself, I wrapped the towel around my body.

The overhead lights flicked off and plunged the room into semidarkness. Only a narrow shaft of light from the hallway pierced the gloom. Stumbling backward on the slippery tiles, I almost fell out of my flip-flops. I groped for the walls, my heart thumping in my chest.

“Hey! Turn the lights back on.”

Most people would have apologized and flipped the switch. Not my mystery intruder. She shuffled down the hall, leaving me alone in the dark.

“Thanks, asshole.” She was probably the same type of joker who swiped my towel midshower during my first week in the dorm. Swathed in the flimsy shower curtain, I’d done my own version of the walk of shame back to my room.

That was bad. This was worse.

Squeezing my eyelids shut, I leaned back against the wall and sucked in a calming breath. Okay. If I waited a minute or two for my eyes to adjust, I should be able to navigate my way to the door, then out into the well-lit hallway. No need to freak out; I’d crossed this bathroom at least a thousand times. I counted backward from sixty, opened my lids, and swept aside the shower curtain.

Eyes on the prize.

The hallway light beckoned. I kept my gaze laser-focused on it, ignoring the shadows that hovered in my peripheral vision as I stumbled toward the open door. I stuck my head into the hall and looked in both directions. Green-toenail girl was nowhere in sight.

I marched down the long corridor, past a dozen dark, silent rooms. Lights flickered from the TV lounge. I paused in the doorway. One of those 1950s alien invasion movies that Uncle Mel and I used to watch played on the big screen. Smiling at the memory, I stepped into the room and scanned the sofas and chairs for signs of life. The place appeared empty.

Just last week the perky resident assistant had sent out a memo reminding people to turn off the big TV when they were done watching it, part of the university’s green initiatives. I sighed. If Janie found the TV on when she made her rounds in the morning, she’d probably issue another flurry of memos. Picking up the remote from a table, I clicked off the television and turned to head back to my room.

Somebody groaned, and I jumped backward. Who was that? My gaze darted around the room, finally landing on a figure sprawled across a sofa. Guess I should have looked more closely instead of dismissing the lump as a pile of pillows.

“Hi,” I called out.

Another groan.

With halting steps, I approached the sofa. Long, curly red hair spilled across a cushion and partially obscured her face. It had to be Rachel what’s-her-name from down the hall. One night last month, I found her at 2 a.m.—key in hand and reeking of tequila—passed out in the hallway outside her door.

“Hey, Rachel. You need help getting to your room?”

She mumbled her response, the words lost behind the tangle of hair.

“You okay?” I leaned over and brushed the hair back from her pale face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted up at me. Her lips parted and she burped, spewing out a rancid cloud of rumtainted vapor.

“Shit!” I staggered backward, lifting a corner of the towel to hold over my nose.

Rachel’s chest hitched and she retched.

“No, you don’t.” I rolled her on her side, jammed a pillow behind her back, then pulled a small wastebasket close to the sofa, positioning it next to her head.

I was willing to play good Samaritan to keep the girl from choking if she puked, but if she was dead drunk, there was no way I could carry her back to her room. She’d have to sleep it off in the TV lounge.

“You want some water?” I offered.

“Huh-uh.” She shook her head, then raised a hand to her temple, groaning again. I bet the rum was giving her one hell of a headache.

“You sure? How about an aspirin?”

“Wanna sleep,” she slurred.

My conscience clear, I kept watch over her for another few minutes, until her dry heaves subsided, and she drifted off to sleep.

First the green-toenail girl and now Rachel; I don’t usually see this much excitement in the middle of the night.

Must be a full moon.

Author Bio:

With the publication of Pandemonium, Susanna Strom is branching out into an entirely new variety of romance. Susanna loves to read--and write--stories full of complex characters who find love, hope and connection while navigating through a challenging new world. Pandemonium is her first foray in apocalyptic/dystopian romance, but it definitely won't be her last.

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BOOK BLITZ: Shameless by Sybil Bartel #GIVEAWAY

Shameless
Sybil Bartel
(Alpha Bodyguard #8)
Publication date: July 17th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Bodyguard.

Shadow.

Warrior.

The Marines trained me to be a weapon. Tactical warfare was in my blood. I didn’t think twice when I was deployed for the fifth time because I was born battle ready. Then a mission went south and left me with a medical discharge.

Too many years downrange, I didn’t fit in the civilian world. Taking a job with the best security firm in the business seemed like a solid plan…until I was assigned babysitting duty for a spoiled little rich girl. The only thing worse than the assignment was the client’s smart mouth. She thought she could run it—all over me—and not suffer the consequences. She was wrong.

Now she was about to find out how shameless a bodyguard could be.

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—

EXCERPT:

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered into the empty SUV as I pulled up to the bullshit rehab place that was more like a five-star resort and laid eyes on the woman standing out front.

Grabbing my phone, I scrolled to the most recent pic of the client, even though I knew what the hell she looked like. I’d had the displeasure of meeting her almost a year ago.

Blonde, stacked, smirking at the camera, her image played me.

I glanced back at the brunette in front of the rehab place who was standing next to two suitcases in fifty degree temps without a coat. Her ass hanging out in hot pants, boots up to her knees, stomach-baring shirt, she’d put on twenty pounds of perfect curves. Flipping her mane of wavy hair that was just begging to be fisted, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she glared at the Escalade.

Fuck my life, she looked like the last brunette I was stupid enough to sink my dick into.

Slowing the SUV to a stop, I put the passenger window down and leveled her with a look.

“You?” Summer Amherst asked in disgust.

Author Bio:

Sybil Bartel grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling. She loves the New Adult genre, but any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes her swoon.

Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…

But Seriously?

Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.

She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.

To find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website, like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.

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BOOK BLITZ: The Six Month Lease by Melanie Munton #GIVEAWAY

The Six Month Lease
Melanie Munton
Publication date: August 18th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Never have I ever…moved in with a guy after dating him for only three weeks.

Just kidding. That’s exactly what I did.

And like most of you are probably thinking, it inevitably blew up in my face when we broke up two days after signing our lease.

Now, I’m stuck living with my ex. The same man who turned my life completely upside down in record time.

For. Six. Whole. Months.

It doesn’t matter how many times he flashes those abs at me after a shower, or how close his bedroom is to mine. I will resist him because he’s simply not the right guy for me.

But if I thought he’d done a number on me before, that’s nothing compared to what happens after I finally learn the secret he’s been keeping from me this entire time.

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—

EXCERPT:

We touch down on the helipad near Patriot’s Point where we left from. The slab of concrete is on the edge of the now mostly empty parking lot, the park having closed over an hour ago. The sun has lowered in the sky, painting it a pink hue with notes of orange and gold.

West does some more talking into his radio headset while going through the process of shutting the aircraft down, flipping switches and pushing buttons. After I’ve had time to take stock of everything, I realize that I’m coming down from a small adrenaline rush. My chest is heaving, my heart still racing.

Now I really get West’s love for flying. It gives you a high like no other.

Helicopter heroin.

The blades slowly stop rotating until the whooping sound of their spinning eventually ceases. West removes his headphones and unstraps himself. Then he leans over and repeats the same process with me.

But once he has my straps unbuckled, he falls back into his own seat.

Slowly removes his aviators—

And spreads his legs.

It’s only then that I notice the tent between his legs.

“Does that happen every time you fly?” I ask, my gaze lasered in on his lap. “Or is that special for me?”

“It’s always for you,” he answers roughly. “That’s the fucking problem. Nothing does it for me anymore but you. The other night when you went out for drinks with the girls, my hand could barely get the job done, even though it was your naked body I pictured in my head the entire time. It’s like nothing will satisfy except the real you.”

I tsk my tongue. “Poor baby. What do you recommend for the pain?”

He unbuckles his belt, lowers his zipper. “I just gave you a ride.” He reaches inside his briefs, palming his erection. “Now, it’s your turn to give me a nice…long…ride.”

I lick my lips unconsciously, feeling my nipples pucker underneath my breezy, linen dress. “These windows aren’t exactly tinted.”

“No one’s around,” he growls, his face reddening with burning lust. “Plus, the cockpit is facing those trees. No one can see us at this angle.”

My pulse jumps at the word cock.

Wriggling his hips, he shoves his shorts and briefs down past his manhood, freeing his rod until it’s rising straight up in the air. When he wraps his fist around the base, I flashback to how he looked handling the control stick. Gripping it so tight, his fingers absently stroking it when he was letting the aircraft coast.

My God, I never thought helicopters could be so sexual.

I’ll never be able to look at any kind of control stick the same way again.

His eyes lower to my chest. “Come sit on your throne, princess.”

Author Bio:

Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd.Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it’s boring to only stick to one sub-genre! From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines.Go visit Melanie’s website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!

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B@@K REVEAL: Snowed In by Lindy Miller #PreORDER

Snowed In
Lindy Miller
Published by: Rosewind Books
Publication date: December 8th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

CHRISTMAS ISN’T ROXANNE HUDSON’S STYLE…UNTIL SHE FINDS HERSELF SNOWED IN WITH HIM.

Roxanne Hudson does not like Christmas. It comes with too many family obligations that take her away from work as a rising fashion editor in New York City. But this year might be Grandma Myrtle’s last Christmas, and Roxanne’s parents want her to spend the holiday at the family cabin in the Green Mountains. With her boyfriend Hunter away at a photo shoot, Roxanne decides to brave the long commute—and the wilderness—to spend Christmas in Vermont.

But when an uncomfortable phone call from Hunter starts her trip off badly, Roxanne is blindsided by a blizzard on the snowy mountain road. When she’s rescued by a handsome park ranger who’s the exact opposite of everything she always thought she wanted, Roxanne might discover she has time for a little Christmas magic after all.

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Author Bio:

Lindy Miller is an author of feel-good love stories that are full of sweet moments and happy endings. She believes the best time to fall in love is during the holidays, preferably over a cup of warm tea or a delicious vegan pastry - two things she can't get enough of.

A free spirit, Lindy loves to travel and has a soft spot for Bar Harbor, Maine though she grew up at home in the South. She is married to her childhood sweetheart and bakes as often as she can for her husband, son, and pets - especially her golden retriever, Finn, who has a tendency to show up in her stories (and her Instagram!)

Lindy is represented by Gandolfo Helin & Fountain Literary Management and supported by Smith Publicity.

Member Romantic Novelist Association (RNA).

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