R.E. Hargrave's Blog, page 27

BOOK BLITZ: Never Enough Cowboy by Jennie Marts #GIVEAWAY

Never Enough Cowboy
Jennie Marts
(Creedence Horse Rescue, #4)
Published by: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication date: July 26th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

“A swoon-worthy, must-read romance.” –SARA RICHARDSON, National bestselling author

Fans of Carolyn Brown, Maisey Yates, and Jennifer Ryan will fall head over cowboy boots for this second-chance romance from USA Today bestseller Jennie Marts.

Single mom Jillian Bennett barely has a moment to herself between raising her ten-year old son, volunteering at the horse rescue ranch, and working her new job as head librarian of Creedence, Colorado. She doesn’t have time for romance either, even though she and the cute deputy, Ethan Rayburn, have been doing a lot of flirting the last few weeks. But when he also forms a bond with her son, Milo, Jillian falls hard, and Ethan soon realizes he would do anything for the feisty librarian who’s won his heart.

Praise for Jennie Marts:

“Full of hope, humor, and undeniable swoon.”—A.J. Pine, USA Today bestselling author“Funny, complicated, and irresistible. Sometimes a cowboy isn’t perfect but you got to love him anyway.”—Jodi Thomas, New York Times bestselling author, for Caught Up in a Cowboy“The perfect blend of humor, grit, and sexy cowboy spice. Delicious!”—Kari Lynn Dell, award-winning and bestselling author, for Wish Upon a Cowboy“Deliciously steamy but still sweet, with a secret at its heart.”—Joanne Kennedy, award-winning and bestselling author, for Wish Upon a Cowboy

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

—

Author Bio:

Jennie Marts is the USA TODAY Best-selling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily ever after. Readers call her books “laugh out loud” funny and the “perfect mix of romance, humor, and steam.” Fic Central claimed one of her books was “the most fun I’ve had reading in years.”

She is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet that loves to tweet to the oldies. She’s addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes, or friends.

Her books include the contemporary western romance Hearts of Montana series, the romantic comedy/ cozy mysteries of The Page Turners series, the hunky hockey-playing men in the Bannister family in the Bannister Brothers Books, and the small-town romantic comedies in the Lovestruck series of Cotton Creek Romances.

Jennie loves to hear from readers. Follow her on Facebook at Jennie Marts Books, or Twitter at @JennieMarts. Visit her at www.jenniemarts.com and sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest news and releases.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter / Bookbub

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: Spark of Madness by Brynn Ford #GIVEAWAY

Spark of Madness
Brynn Ford
(Ember Glen, #1)
Publication date: July 21st 2022
Genres: Adult, Dark Romance, Dystopian

In Ember Glen, men purge under the full moon. It’s the duty of women to serve them. When Mercy refuses to serve, Arlo will force her to find absolution through three brutal trials. But will their forbidden romance destroy their world?

MercyNeglecting my duty to serve is a sin, and during the last full moon, I became a sinner.

He saw me run from my duty, chased me, and caught me.He promised me that I would be punished.

But I never could have imagined the hellish fate that would be chosen for me. More than that, I never could have imagined the maddening lust that would spark between me and the man who caught me.

This passion is forbidden…and it might set us on fire.

ArloIt’s my role to catch the sinners, and Mercy sinned gravely.

I saw her and I chased her, drawn to her inexplicably.She sparked something within me, but she had to be brought to judgment.

Her punishment is coming in the form of an archaic ritual we’re bringing back to make an example of her. I’ll be her warden, her keeper, the man to ensure she stays alive between her torturous trials.

Something within her brings out the worst of me…and the worst of me wants to ruin her.

AUTHOR NOTE: This is a dark romance series that involves many triggering elements which may be upsetting for some readers. A complete list of tropes and triggers can be found on the author’s website at brynnford.com/triggers.

SERIES NOTE: Spark of Madness is book 1 of 3 in the Ember Glen series and it ends on a cliffhanger. The author plans to publish all 3 books by the end of 2022. The trilogy follows Mercy and Arlo and must be read in order.

READING ORDERBook 1: Spark of Madness (July 21, 2022)Book 2: Blaze of Misery (October 20, 2022)Book 3: Embers of Mercy (December 29, 2022)

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

I sinned.

I ran, and I hid.

I rebelled from my soul’s purpose, and I was promised punishment.

He’s come to punish me.

As soon as the realization hits me, I scramble, kicking against the earth to push myself backward and crawl out from beneath him. He ignores me as I awkwardly rush to my feet and back away; instead, he bends to pick up my mother’s journal.

No!

I lunge for it, but he jerks his hand away, holding the journal beside his head.

“Give that back.”

“No,” he says plainly.

He slowly lowers it in front of him, thumbing open the pages.

I lunge again to snatch it, but he only steps back, narrowing his eyes at me with his head tilted toward the pages. “Stop. Your property is my property now.”

“What?”

What is he saying?

I’m entitled to have my own things.

Except, the Control has license to take authority over the personal property of sinners.

And I’m a sinner now.

I feel frozen as I watch him flip through the pages, reading a sentence here and there. A shiver runs up my spine despite the warmth of the sun, and I hug myself, running my hands up and down my arms. Movement in the distance catches my eye; standing at the tree line, at the edge of the meadow, are the other six members of the Control.

Watching.

Waiting.

The notion of my death claws through my mind, scratching away all other thoughts.

Have they come to kill me?

Will I die today?

How will they do it? Burned at the stake like my mother?

“What is this?” Arlo asks, closing the journal and holding it up. “Is this your mother’s?”

I hear him, but I struggle to respond. The very essence of my being is trapped behind a thick wall of ice inside my mind, frozen and paralyzed to thoughts of punishment and death.

“Forget it,” he says with exasperation. “Come with me.”

He holds out his palm, covered with a black leather glove, and I stare at it as if it’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, as if it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen…because it is.

If I take his hand, he’ll lead me away, only I don’t know where to and I don’t know what will happen then. I don’t know if I’ll be hurt or tortured, or if I’ll be killed immediately.

I lift my gaze from his hand to meet his stare. “Are you going to kill me?”

His eyes are blue—bright blue, like the clear sky above. They sparkle as he watches me, waiting for me to take his outstretched hand.

I think it’s the first time I’ve ever really looked at him. I’ve only known him by name and in passing before the other night in the forest. I knew of him; I’d seen him and could identify him easily. But looking at him now, I know I’ve never truly seen him before.

“Not personally, and certainly not today,” he offers. “Come along now. We have things to discuss.”

“What things?”

He takes a step closer, and instinctively, I step back.

“Mercy.”

“What’s going to happen to me? Please. Can’t you just tell me now?”

“I’m not going to ask you again.” His offered palm twitches with threat. “We will drag you away if you insist on resisting.”

Part of me wants to resist. If my fate has already been decided—and I suspect it has—then resistance won’t change the outcome. Resisting might make me feel like I did something, that I at least tried. That part of me makes my knees bend with the urge to run.

Author Bio:

Brynn Ford writes dark romance for daring readers. She is a lover of the dark, twisted, and playful, and strives to bring these elements into her stories.

When she isn't obsessively writing, you may find her binge-watching favorite shows while eating far too much junk food or fanatically reading, always seeking to lose herself in the emotional roller coaster of a damn good story.

She's a firm believer that her characters continue to live outside the pages in the minds of her readers. Stories don't end just because there aren't any more pages to turn.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Instagram / Newsletter / TikTok / Amazon / Bookbub

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: Of Fae & Hate by Quirah Casey #GIVEAWAY

Of Fae & Hate
Quirah Casey
(Of Fae & Hate, #1)
Publication date: July 23rd 2022
Genres: Adult, Reverse Harem, Urban Fantasy

Hate is a strong word, but at the Nadouraz Academy it’s deadly.

I never wanted to attend Nadouraz Academy.The school for fae is full of spoiled, bratty, powerful royals. I’m none of those things.Most importantly, no one even knows if I’m even fae.

The first week of school I find myself in a rivalry with more fae than I can keep track of, but it becomes the least of my worries when I end up cursed. What’s worse is that the curse binds me to three fae I hate and one who just may be a demon from the darkest pits of hell: Soskia, Alik, Fox, and Brynsyn.

Now a promise to give the pretentious academy a try, an unbreakable contract, and a wicked curse may seal my death.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

I’m halfway to my dorm when I become aware of footsteps marching in time with mine.

I whirl around prepared to give the fox guy another piece of my mind, but I pull up short when I see the guy who’d waved at me the first day I got here.

His eyes are a mystic green that seem to swirl with magic as he watches me. His lips spread into a wide grin, showing off pearly white teeth. He drifts close to me, a chain hanging from his dark jeans. When he stops a foot away from me, my eyes move down to his nails, taking in the black polish covering them.

“Let me guess, you want to take on round three of my anger,” I say to him coldly, preparing myself for another argument.

Just my fucking luck.

But instead of saying that I don’t know who he is or one of those other cheesy lines that seem to be in abundance at this school, he only huffs out a laugh. His eyes twinkle as they roam over me. “I’m not here for an argument. I figured I could escort you to your room, keep you out of trouble since you seem to attract it.”

Mirth dances in his eyes.

“Really? Because something tells me you’re the exact type of trouble I need to avoid.” He gives me the classic bad boy vibes and how could he not with his leather jack, dark features, and crooked smile. He’s shirtless under the jacket, but I refuse to let my eyes really inspect all the smooth, toned skin.

“Me?” he asks, placing a hand to his chest. “I’m about as innocent as they come around here.”

“Why do I doubt that?” I ask even as my shoulders relax.

“Because you’re a smart girl,” he drawls, moving close to me until we’re almost standing chest to chest.

Heat swarms my body as I tilt my head back to look up at him. My breath stutters in my chest as his eyes swirl from green to a near pitch black. The sense to run away overwhelms me but it’s battled by the feel to get even closer to him.

I lean closer to him, my mind obviously made up about which side we want to be on.

He chuckles and I feel him reach up and wrap a lock of my hair around his finger. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he twirls the curly, purple hair. He chuckles as he pulls a piece of spaghetti from the strand.

“So does that mean you’re going to let me escort you to your room, gorgeous?” he asks, raising a brow.

Okay, yeah, definitely trouble.

It feels like I’m broken from a trance as I take a step away from him and yet my heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. The urge to get closer to him is still strong but I choose wisely this time, moving away from him.

“You can walk me,” I tell him. “But if you try any bullshit-”

“You’ll threaten to smack me like the other bitches?” he asks in amusement.

I blink. “You’ve been following me?” I ask.

“As it happens, I wasn’t following you, not at first,” he says, but he doesn’t elaborate any further. He turns, walking away and I only stare at him. He pauses, looking over his shoulder at me and raising a brow. “Are you going to come?” he asks and I realize he’s already walking in the direction of my dorm.

I move to catch up with him, keeping space between us as I fall into step behind him. He noticeably slows the pace of his long legs.

“You know, if you’re trying to convince me that you’re not stalking me, the fact that you know where my dorm is isn’t helping,” I tell him.

He peeks down at me, “And yet, you’re still following me.”

I am.

Conversation dulls as we walk the rest of the way to my dorm, but it’s surprisingly pleasant. I don’t feel any pressure to speak to him, nor is the silence awkward.

When we make it to my room, I find myself wishing the trip wasn’t over. After running into so many annoying, over chatty people, this guy is like a reprieve.

I lean against my door, one hand behind me on the handle as I look up at him. “I don’t believe I quite caught your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you, Nerrysa Ebirac.”

“Definitely a stalker then,” I mutter before raising my voice slightly, “because I definitely didn’t tell you mine either.”

“No, you didn’t,” he agrees, drifting close again.

“And you seem to have a problem with personal space as well,” I tell him as he twirls yet another lock of my hair. Thankfully, food doesn’t come with it this time.

His grin is ruthless and when he leans close to me, his breath fanning over my neck, I decide he just may be combustible. Because I’m on fucking fire.

His lips move so close to my neck that I can feel them brushing over my skin as he speaks. “I have a lot of problems to be honest,” he mutters, “but you may be my solution, little Nerys.” I have no idea what he means, but I really don’t give a fuck, feeling dizzy from his close proximity.

His fingers dance over my hip before suddenly he’s pulling away.

He takes a step back, eyes bright. “And my name is Brynsyn Challard,” he says before disappearing down the hall, leaving me confused and eerily enticed.

Author Bio:

Quirah is still a new author, but not new to writing. She has been writing since the first grade, and has been winning awards since kindergarten, when she told her teacher about her trip to Chicago. Her teacher wrote down the story for her and she won the young authors contest at 5 years old! Quirah plans on working hard in the next couple of years to publish as many books as possible from her chöąts world.

In the meantime, catch up and follow Quirah online at the following links below.

 

Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Twitter / Instagram

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: Aberrant Monsters by Debbie Cassidy #GIVEAWAY

Aberrant Monsters
Debbie Cassidy
(New Blood: Eldritch Blues, #1)
Publication date: January 26th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

Evicting a monster is no easy feat. Especially when the monster lives inside you.

I’m a rift walker, one of a handful of humans able to step into a world of monsters and arcane magic. We follow three simple rules:

Never step into the eldritch realm after sundown.Never stay for more than an hourNever, ever bring anything back

I broke all three rules.

Now my body is host to a psychotic aberration who materialises after sundown to haunt me in the flesh. Flesh arranged on a body made for sin, despite its monstrous proportions.

Telarion delights in tormenting me with his deep grumbling voice, and arrogant demands.He wants out. He wants to be free, and I’m totally on board with finding a way to evict him.

But the Supernatural agency governing Eldritch activity have other plans for us.

They want us to work for them, hunting down other eldritch horrors. In return, they’ll refrain from exterminating us and find a way to separate us instead.

But the clock is ticking, because the longer we’re connected, the more I’m changing, and I’m afraid…Afraid that by the time they find a solution, it might be too late.

I might already be a monster.

A Paranormal Urban Fantasy with an MF romance.

Get books 1-3 for 99¢ from July 20-27 only!

Goodreads / Amazon

—

Author Bio:

Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head - in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: The Language of the Wind by M.R. Grand #GIVEAWAY

The Language of the Wind
M.R. Grand
Publication date: July 22nd 2022
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult

There aren’t enough bodies to harbor the demons of Olenore Allas.

One demon —a nameless and star-skinned creature—is plagued by the search for a perfect body, every day of their wispy life. Guided by nothing but the winds, they know they want nothing more than to be themself: mortal, beautiful, and loved. And who better to grant them that, than Junovere Krauss? A thief, a witch, hungry for a perfect demon to strike a deal with, to create a bond that will grant her the magic she’s longed for all her life. And in exchange, Juno promises her demon everything. A name, a voice, sight, hearing…and, of course, beauty.

The vain creature fights their devouring insecurities as Juno guards her secrets: that she needs this completed demon for her aunt, who has threatened to destroy her reputation before it’s even started. Complete the demon’s body, and their deal is complete, their bond broken. But Juno loses her magic forever. As Juno’s bond with her demon manifests into something more powerful than magic itself, she has to choose: magic, or freedom? Follow the demon and witch as they adventure over the bewitching Olenore Allas, a land that thrives on the law of balance. As they outsmart mortals, demons, and witches alike, they may slowly understand how willing they are to break the laws of balance for one another.

A dark fairytale rich with romance and a diverse cast that dives into the meaning of identity, and the relationship between a body and a soul, THE LANGUAGE OF THE WIND is the first installment of the BROKEN CHIMERA duology.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

It was painful, not being able to breathe.

The demon screamed. They had never felt such pain. They weren’t even sure they were supposed to feel pain, not until a body had been granted to them. But the way they felt — as though something was being ripped from them, like they were vanishing from this very world, dispersing back into the arms of the winds as dust —it must be pain. They tried to scream again, to call for the winds to save them, but the winds were nowhere. The winds had finally abandoned them after one too many failures.

What a horrible thought, to die without a body to be remembered by. The demon knew they would simply cease and never know any other mortal emotion except pain and burning.

There was no sound, no sight, without the winds. Just the overwhelming scent of blood and bones. They knew it was too good to be true, to follow something so close to the witch homes, the city built on stolen power. But after losing the small and frail child to that large demon, after wandering and growing bored of the company of the winds, the demon was desperate.

Too good to be true. Too good.

Then, another feeling—something being pressed into the demon’s shriveling form, like seeds being shoved beneath the earth, planting something new. More pieces found the demon, like rocks grinding between one another, trying to make a perfect fit, to mold the demon into shape.

Fear suddenly grasped the demon. This was not someone mourning a death; this was not an accident. The demon was being bound by a witch. They could feel their long fingers, the foreign additions being given, pieces of a body that their form was claiming…all the stories were true, then.

Witches were the true monsters of this world.

Breathe, the witch commanded in the language of the wind.

Instant relief flooded the demon as they obeyed. A cavity opened, and the winds were back, flooding their being. They could feel themself rush back into place, fluid and fluctuating…and yet not.

Something is very wrong with them. Something very wrong, indeed.

Open your eye, demon, commanded the witch. See what I have given you.

Eye? An eye? The demon did feel as though they were blind, like there was more to behold than what the winds whispered to them. Taking orders from a witch, however, was not ideal. Not after nearly choking into nothingness, after having to figure out exactly what state they were in.

Their form felt split—like limbs—except there is no skin; they know that. Something is tied around the lower half of them, like a chain of some sort. The demon did not like this. Not one bit. The winds now flowed through the cavity the witch gave them—something like clay resting inside—and then the grinding rocks.

Open. Your. Eye.

At last, the demon obeyed.

The world was bright. It burned and was much smaller in such a windowed space. Their breath quickened, the cavity—mouth —opening and closing as they braced the ground, the winds tickling their form as if apologizing. And then, the demon faced their captor, the monster who bound them so deceitfully.

A woman—yes, a woman—of young age. Her skin was dark, but not nearly as dark as her voided eyes. Her hair brushed her chin in waved kissed by the winds, the color like the sheen of crows. Her strong brows are lowered, her dress like deep green petals of the forests, laid against a full and curved figure. And her ears—just as the stories had said—were butterfly wings that granted them the language of the wind, wings of purple and silver, flared in challenge.

“You — ” the demon breathed, testing their voice for the very first time. “You are — hideous.”

Author Bio:

M.R. Grand is the author of The Language of the Wind, her first novel (that she actually finished.) She grew up on classic DreamWorks, Barbie films, and a lot of comics. With those being her foundation, she wanted nothing more than to make stories and art that took people to places where fairy tales felt real. She currently lives somewhere in the mountains as a full-time creator. You can find her on Instagram @emargrand and hopefully other places soon. She’s not very good at the whole website thing yet.

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: Gilded Butterfly by Leslie O'Sullivan #GIVEAWAY

Gilded Butterfly
Leslie O’Sullivan
(Rockin’ Fairy Tales, #2)
Publication date: July 30th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

Gilded Butterfly is the second book in the Rockin’ Fairy Tales adult romantasy series by Leslie O’Sullivan. King Midas and the Golden Touch meets King Lear in a slow-burn, friends to lovers, romance set against the backdrop of a fictional Hollywood music scene.

Chorda Lear is a mega-hot pop artist, Internet influencer, and Irish witch who’s poised to inherit a magical family legacy, the Golden Guitar. She’s the fan favorite on a wildly popular reality television show, “Kickin’ It With Midas,” a trendy chronicle of three Hollywood influencer sisters and their aging rock star father, Midas Lear.

Adair Holliday, a Hollywood producer wunderkind, is slated to step up as showrunner of the Lear’s lucrative TV franchise. He must constantly temper his skepticism over best friend, Chorda’s, practice of magic, but his biggest challenge is denying romantic feelings for her.

When Chorda goes disastrously off-script during the live broadcast of the season finale, Lear banishes her from the show and his life. Adair follows his friend into exile with a plan to reconcile father and daughter. Away from the pressures of Hollywood, a steamy encounter under a waxing moon, deepens friendship into romance. Now, the two must reverse Midas’ edict to save both their professional futures and new-found love.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

This book is in the world of Rockin’ Fairy Tales with some character carryover from Pink Guitars and Falling Stars, Book 1, but it does work as a standalone.

Windshields are a dark destiny for butterflies. As I wind up the drive to Midas Lear’s Waterfall Palace in the Hollywood Hills, my windshield becomes one such destiny for a vibrant blue butterfly. The poor critter traveled to Hollywood in search of fame and fortune with plans to name its cover band Wing Spread.

The driver’s side glass of my deep blue, Tesla model 3 had other plans. In a single fatal moment, the band, Wing Spread became Smush, which sounds more like a pop-up night club than a cover band. In Hollywood, it’s all about the name.

I pull as far off the road in front of the mansion as the narrow drive allows. There are those who would mock me for bemoaning the death of a bug. In my humble opinion, sadness should be mandated when something lovely is destroyed. I, Adair Holliday, am to blame for a drop of beauty gone from the world.

I retrieve an index card from the leather messenger bag my half-brother, Desmond, gave me last month on my thirtieth birthday with the directive: “Time to upgrade from your folksy backpack look, Adair.”

Across the road, I pick my way down a steep bank landscaped as a butterfly garden to the shore of a narrow stream fed by cascading water features of the mansion. It’s ironic the intentional flora attracts winged beauties only to threaten death via windshields and waterfalls.

Before me, the final brushstrokes of a California sunset reflect off Midas Lear’s Waterfall Palace, three stories of glass framed with stacked stone walls. The president of Golden Pipes Records runs his music empire from this Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water House meets Irish castle.

Spray from the waterfall spilling from the cantilevered stone shelf at the mansion’s base dots the butterfly’s wings. I crouch at the water’s edge to release the creature and its paper ship into the current, a Viking funeral in miniature. The card flips, sending broken blue wings beneath the surface.

A bend in the stream disappears into shadows underneath the peppy blossoms of overhanging purple and pink crepe myrtles. Were I slightly metaphoric, I’d define the waterway as a parallel to the new turn my life is about to take. Maybe the fact I’m figuratively pondering means I possess a drizzle of the poet in my soul. A good showrunner needs such drizzle in the ole creative toolbox.

I’ll leave poetic musings to Midas Lear and his three red-headed daughters. Rubata, Glissanda, and Chorda Lear will be my trio of responsibilities when I step into the executive producer spot on their reality TV show, Kickin’ It With Midas, after we shoot tonight’s season finale. I’m primed to step up my creative splash on the Golden Pipes Network.

I emerge from clusters of crimson columbine and lilac to the roar of an approaching engine. Desmond’s vintage red Ferrari 360 Modena zips around the corner, screeching to a stop inches from my toes.

“Shit, Adair. You nearly ended up on my windshield.”

The timeliness of his comment is not lost on me. I decline to share deets of my Viking butterfly funeral. “Cooling my jets for a sec by the water.”

Des shakes his head. “Cooling your jets? My little brother, crowned prince of outdated idioms and clichés.”

I celebrate and perpetuate the resurrection of sayings I’ve absorbed from the classic and not so classic movies and television programs I adore. More than one person has accused me of time traveling to the present from a black and white 1960s sitcom.

I tap a finger to my chin. “Are colorful phrases ever outdated?”

Rubata, the middle Lear sister, springs through the open pop top of the car. Her dyed cherry-red hair clashes with the Ferrari’s paint. She raises her phone to grab a selfie with a green, white, and red striped bag. “Gelato. I gotta gelata,” she sings and waves a handle bag stamped with the Gelato Buono logo.

I dive to catch the phone she tosses to me.

“Adair, get a shot of me with the gotta gelata and the car.” Rubata holds the bag next to her cheek and puckers her lips. As I snap pictures, she flips her hair and kisses the bag. “Did you get the shot? Wait, switch to video of me singing gotta gelata, gotta gelata.” Through the window, I catch her gold painted toenails dancing across Desmond’s shoulder. “Oooo, Desi, feed me gelata. That’ll look sexxxxy.”

Author Bio:

Leslie O’Sullivan is the author of Rockin' Fairy Tales, an adult romance series of Shakespeare/fairy tale mash ups set against the backdrop of Hollywood’s music scene. Coming soon is her Behind the Scenes contemporary romance series that peeks into the off-camera secrets of a wildly popular television drama. She’s a UCLA Bruin with a BA and MFA from their Department of Theater where she also taught for years on the design faculty. Her tenure in the world of television was as the assistant art director on “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.” Leslie loves to indulge her fangirl side each year at San Diego Comic Con.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: Dark Hearts by M. O'Keefe #GIVEAWAY

Dark Hearts
M. O’Keefe
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

“No man ever made me so curious. Or reckless.”

Poppy lives a charmed life. From the outside she’s the wife of a wealthy senator, wearing jewels and designer clothes. Other people don’t know she lives in the dark. Her husband is a monster in a bespoke suit.

Then Ronan Byrne shows up on their marble doorstep, armed and dangerous. He sees through her calm, cultured facade to the fear underneath.

He’s determined to help her, whether she wants it or not.

“M. O’Keefe brings her A-game in this sexy, complicated romance where you’re left questioning if everything you thought was true!” – New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg

DARK HEARTS is a boxed set that contains three full-length novels: Ruined, Broken, and Untamed by bestselling and award-winning author M. O’Keefe.

Welcome to the Midnight Dynasty… The warring Morelli and Constantine families have enough bad blood to fill an ocean, and their brand new stories will be told by your favorite dangerous romance authors.

WARNING: This book is intended for readers eighteen years old and over. It contains material that some readers could find disturbing. Enter at your own risk…

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

—

EXCERPT:

You want to know what the rich and powerful do? They go to parties like this one. And on little plates they carry food around that they don’t actually eat. In heavy crystal glasses they drink champagne and scotch. Rivers of it. They laugh and whisper and watch each other out of the corners of their eyes.

But really what they do is pretend. That’s all. They play pretend in their four-thousand-dollar tuxes and ten-thousand-dollar dresses.

They pretend to care what the person they’re talking to is actually saying. They pretend to give a shit about whatever cause to which they’re donating money. Or in the case of tonight’s party—the marriage of a 20-year-old girl to a 48-year-old man.

They pretend that it’s not gross.

My sister Zilla and I played a version of this exact same game that hot summer under the willow tree at the back of our estate. Wearing our mother’s nightgowns with thin little straps and lace that fell past our little girl knees, Zilla would hold out a leaf with a worm on it.

“It’s a delicacy where I come from,” she’d say in a ridiculous accent.

“After you,” I’d say, trying to sound like the Queen of England but getting tangled up somewhere in the deep south. And then, because she was fearless, Zilla would pick up that worm, bite it in half, and swallow it down.

“Show me,” I’d say, and she’d open her mouth to reveal nothing but her molars poking through the tender pink of her gums. And then she’d dab the corners of her mouth with the leaf, and we’d tip our heads back and fake laugh.

But the fake laughs always turned to real ones. Ones that shook our bellies and made us collapse onto the ground.

That was not going to happen at this party.

“Are you all right?” asked Mrs. . . . oh, god, what was her name? She was important, I’d been told that earlier. I’d been told not to forget that this woman in the vast sea of important women at this party, was important.

“I’m fine,” I said, but there was sweat pooling between my breasts. The sweat had nothing to do with the heat of summer in Upstate New York and everything to do with my life ending while people ate shrimp cocktail.

The harpist in the corner struck up what sounded like the exact same song she’d been playing for the last hour. It was. It was the same song. The harpist was playing a joke on all the assholes at this party.

Oh god, the thought just occurred to me—she thinks I am one of the assholes.

“As I was saying,” the important woman said. The diamonds in her ears were the size of pea gravel and could keep Zilla in Belhaven for a month. “The senator has done excellent work for the state in Washington. Everyone here fully supports his tax relief bill.”

“I’m sure he appreciates that.”

“Tell him, won’t you?” she asked, leaning in closer. “I have a nephew graduating Harvard and he’s hoping to intern with the senator next year.”

Little did Important Woman know, I had no power. Everything about me—from the dress I was wearing to the seven million thread count pillowcase I would lay my head upon tonight—was a loan I was in the process of paying back.

“Sure,” I said.

“You must be so excited,” Important Woman said. “How that man has managed to stay single is a mystery to me.”

“I think I just need to get a breath of fresh air,” I said and then rudely, really rudely, just walked away from that important woman.

Whoa.

I was really starting to unravel. Despite being in this house roughly a million times, I couldn’t seem to find a door leading to a room I wanted to be in.

There was like . . . a hysterical giggle in my chest. Or a scream? Maybe it was a scream. Or a sob.

All three?

Was that even possible?

I’d wished a million times since all this started that I was more like my sister. Tougher. Stronger. Angrier.

Strong was never a word anyone had applied to me.

I had to get out of the Constantine compound. Now. Three seconds ago.

The champagne glass in my hand was empty, and I handed it to a waiter, not waiting to answer his polite question about having more of the expensive bubbly. If I opened my mouth too wide I was afraid, well, not afraid as much as I was sure, absolutely sure that I would ruin not just this night. But everything—the whole spider web keeping my sister and me safe would be torn apart. So I kept my mouth shut as I pushed past Tinsley Constantine.

“Are you all right, Poppy?” Tinsley asked. We weren’t close, me and Tinsley. The Constantine children breathed rarified air, and when I was around them, I felt all the arrows of my circumstances. We’d been raised as cousins of a sort, but we all knew that was a lie. Now, since leaving college, I was staying in their pool house. And they never intentionally made me feel bad, but I could tell they didn’t like how much their mother cared about me.

And they really didn’t love me staying in the pool house.

“I’m fine,” I said with what I hoped was a smile. I could see across the room Winston and Perry, Caroline’s sons, tracking this conversation. And more eyes were not what I needed. “I just need some air.”

They were one hundred percent pitying me and barely hiding it.

I was one hundred percent freaking out and barely hiding it.

The front doors were still open, people walking in and out, and the big veranda would be just as crowded as this ballroom, so I followed a server out the door and through a wood-panelled study full of men in tuxedos.

I didn’t look at their faces. In this world, this place, they all looked the same. White, slightly saggy, watery-eyes behind glasses that assessed my worth as I went running past.

In my desperation, I got turned around inside the sprawling mansion and found myself in the small sitting room being used as a bar for the catering staff. The same room where Caroline had changed my life forever—god, was that . . . Christmas? How had my life changed so dramatically in a few months?

“You have to listen to me,” Caroline said, sitting next to me on the little settee facing the icy window. The white twinkle lights reflected in her eyes. “This is serious. And this is hard. But you’re not a little girl anymore.”

“I know,” I said. I’d turned 20 in the spring. And now that Dad was dead, I was Zilla’s legal guardian. Frankly, I hadn’t been a little girl since Mom died. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt like a little girl.

“Your father . . .” Caroline took a deep breath. “There’s no money, Poppy.”

“For what?” I asked.

“There’s no money for you. For school. For Zilla. You need to sell the house to pay off what he owed.”

“Okay,” I felt the ground shifting under my feet. “The life insurance—”

“He cashed it out a year ago.”

“My college fund?”

“Gone. The money from your mother’s estate. All gone. There’s nothing, Poppy.”

“How will I pay for Zilla—”

“You’re going to need to drop out of school, and we need to figure something out.”

“You all right, miss?” a server asked while trying to get by me with a tray of empty glasses from the kitchen.

“Bad place to stop,” a guy said, lifting his tray of full glasses over my head as he went by.

“I just need . . . fresh air.”

“The front—”

“And privacy.”

The server nodded once, her no-nonsense ponytail swishing over her dark vest. “Follow me,” she said.

Maybe I could get a job as a server with this catering company. She probably made good money. I didn’t have any experience serving appetizers on trays, and probably way too much experience eating them. But I could learn. Probably.

We were through the kitchen and down another hall, and finally she pushed open a door to a small brick patio with a few chairs around what looked like a fire pit. I could see the swimming pool beyond. The pool house where I’d been staying since Christmas like some very unwanted guest. The gazebo. Tennis courts. The manicured lawns slipped down over the hills to the shadowed tree line. Fresh air abounded. The sounds of the party were muffled.

I could almost pretend I was far away from it all.

“You should be okay out here,” the server said in her neat vest and bow tie. I loved bow ties. Honestly, I was made to be a catering server.

“Thank you so much!” I said, showing way too much enthusiasm for the kindness she’d shown me, but there’d been a real lack of kindness—big or small, in my life in the last year so I always got a little messy around it.

“It’s just where the servers smoke, nothing to get excited about,” she said with lots of side eye.

The server vanished through the open doorway, and I walked out into the grass, past the edge of the light thrown from the lantern fixture over the door. In the distance was the thick tree line that separated the Constantine land from my parent’s old house. When Zilla found out what Dad had done, she burned the house down. That’s when we knew the medication wasn’t enough. That’s when Belhaven happened. When everything changed. What was left of the house after the fire and the willow tree had been bulldozed, the pond filled, the land sold to the Constantine’s.

I could run around to the front of the house and get a key from the valet. Any key. Any car. And I could drive away.

Except, you idiot, you don’t know how to drive.

I could run. Just . . . run. Even as I thought it, I was slipping out of my shoes. The grass cold and damp and real beneath my feet. That was how bad I wanted to escape—my body was committed to action before I’d fully finished the thought. God. I wanted to RUN.

Run and do what? Go where? What about Zilla?

The thoughts were chains erupting out of the grass and wrapping around my feet.

Hands in fists, tears in my eyes, I opened my mouth ready to scream. Ready to let all the poison out, no matter who heard me. Let all of them hear me—Important Woman with the earrings, the Constantine children, the server who in another life might be my best friend—I’d go back in there in a minute and smile and thank them. Show them the stupid rock on my finger and blush and laugh, but now, let them stand in those rooms and know they were robbing me. Killing me. Let them—

“Jesus Christ, you okay?” a thick Irish accent asked from the darkness in the corner of the patio, and instead of screaming I kind of squeaked.

Which, honestly, was about right.

Author Bio:

M. O'Keefe is the darker, more dangerous pen name of bestselling author Molly O'Keefe. She is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Everything I Left Unsaid series and the upcoming Stolen Hearts. To find out more visit www.molly-okeefe.com

 

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: A Little Wilder by Serena Bell #GIVEAWAY

A Little Wilder
Serena Bell
(Wilder Adventures, #4)
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

What happened in Vegas? Definitely didn’t stay in Vegas.

Gabe’s the oldest. Brody’s the bad boy. Clark’s the strong, silent warrior. Amanda’s the girl. And Easton—well, Easton’s the panty melter.

I’m Kane.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a bad job. But usually, I’m not the one people are talking about.

That’s about to change. Because the woman I had a smoking hot one-night stand with in Vegas? The one I should have stayed far, far away from, since women like her are my kryptonite?

She’s the same woman my brother just hired to redesign his fancy new glamping RVs.

I haven’t seen her since Vegas, but the instant I lay eyes on her, I can tell my quiet role as the boy-next-door brother is about to change.

She’s pregnant.

And it’s mine.

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

—

EXCERPT:

There’s a knock on Bernadette’s door.

It pulls me out of deep concentration on the trailer project and sends a small thrill of anticipation up my spine.

Kane.

It’s gotta be Kane. It’s not like I get visitors.

I haul myself off the couch—an increasingly challenging undertaking. Even though I know it has to be him, I peep out. One of the awesome mods on Bernadette, courtesy of her previous owner, is a peephole, which is super useful when you’re a single woman on the road alone.

And even though I know it has to be him, I still feel a surge of pleased surprise when I see his face.

“Delivery,” he says, holding out a big, round Tupperware… cake holder? “Boston cream pie.”

Holy shit, he found it.

I yank open the door and have to stop myself from snatching the cake out of his hands. Or throwing my arms around him and hugging the crap out of him. “Where did you find it?”

“I—”

He stops, appearing to think better of whatever he was about to say, but it’s too late. I know where that sentence was going.

“You made it?”

“Amanda helped,” he says, like that’s going to take anything away from a six-foot-something built-like-a-God man who bakes Boston cream pies.

“Aaaaahhhh!” I cry, overcome. “You are a saint and a genius.”

He tries to bite back a smile. “I think you’re overstating things a little.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I have been fantasizing about yellow custard, soft yellow cake, and chocolate ganache nonstop since before I knew Kane had planted this baby in me. “Come in. You have to have some, too.”

“It’s all for you,” he says. “I wouldn’t take any of your special treat. Your presentation was fantastic. You deserve all the cake.”

This guy. I swear. He was too much in Vegas, when all I knew about him was that he asked real questions and knew how to use his body for both good and evil. Now…“Well, come in anyway.”

He hesitates again, then follows me in, setting the cake on the counter. I wash my hands and take two small plates down from the cabinets. I grab two forks from the utensil drawer and two mugs from the overhead hooks. “I don’t have coffee—” I gesture at my belly, “—but I have tea, milk, or water.”

“Water would be great,” he says. “And no cake. I’m serious. It’s yours.”

I wrestle the cake carrier open and cut into my prize. My mouth waters as I do. It’s so—Not gonna say moist, but holy shit, it soooo is.

We sit at Bernadette’s little pink dinette table. I’d forgotten how small this table is with two people at it. Or maybe it’s how big Kane is; his knees touch mine, and his arms cover so much territory, even with his hands folded. I force myself to look away because staring at close range is both rude and dangerous.

His eyes are very, very blue.

I dig in. “Oh, wow,” I say. “Wow.”

It’s soft. Moist (again, sorry!). Tender, springy. The custard is cool and smooth on my tongue, the ganache dark and flavorful.

“Mmm. Just. Thank you.”

Kane grins at me, like he’s pleased, though there’s something else in his expression I can’t quite read. “I did good?”

“You did amazing. So good I could kiss you.”

One eyebrow goes up, but he only says, “How does it rate among the Boston cream pies of the world?”

“It’s up there. Although pregnancy might be biasing me.” I lick a bite that’s mostly custard from my fork, and catch a glimpse of Kane’s face. His eyes are… interested. I lick again, for good measure, and notice the muscle in his jaw tense.

A ripple of tension slides down the lower slope of my belly and lodges itself in my internal muscles. In their constantly primed state, they… quiver dangerously.

The next time I look at him, Kane’s eyes are on my chest. I’m wearing a flowy green maternity dress with a low scoop neck, and, why, yes, it does show off my newly ridiculously huge boobs to excellent advan—

“You have—“

He reaches out. “Some cake—”

His finger almost touches the upper curve of my breast, and, oh, whoops, yes, that is cake on my boob. I use my own finger to scoop it up, then lick it clean.

I hear the moment the breath leaves Kane’s lungs.

I see the moment his gaze travels from my chest to my mouth, when it fixes on my finger, sliding between my lips. The moment it sticks, and stays, right there on my mouth, even as my hand drops away.

“Mari—”

His voice is hoarse.

“Do it. Just—do it,” I order him.

Then he’s leaning over the table, setting his mouth over mine, hot and unhesitating and so, so good.

Author Bio:

USA Today bestselling author Serena Bell writes contemporary romance with heat, heart, and humor. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen carefully, and you can often find her scribbling in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head.

Serena’s books have earned many honors, including an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, Apple Books Best Book of the Month, and Amazon Best Book of the Year for Romance.

When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of how often she changes her hobbies and how passionately she embraces the new ones. These days, it’s stand-up paddle boarding, board-gaming, meditation, and long walks with good friends.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:

B@@K REVEAL: Bar Down, Baby by Georgia Royce #PreORDER

Bar Down, Baby
Georgia Royce
(Rose City Rendezvous, #1)
Publication date: August 2nd 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Extra spicy with a sweet happily ever after, BAR DOWN, BABY is not your average surprise pregnancy love story.

Things were finally looking up for Megan Massey. She moved out of her toxic ex’s apartment. The online store she’s been managing is finally taking off. And she just took a road trip with her new (amazing!) roommates—and had the hottest hookup of her life with Derek Carroll, head coach of Portland U’s men’s hockey team. She’s truly living her best life.

Except now she can’t keep her lunch down. She’s tired all the time and come to think of it, it’s been. . . a while since her last cycle. A baby is the last thing either of them expected, but Derek surprises Megan by committing to co-parent—platonically.

As they navigate the pregnancy together, Megan can’t help but wonder if there could be more between them. Her pregnancy hormones are definitely getting in the way of this whole ‘taking it slow’ thing. And his longing stares and lingering touches aren’t helping. But even as they grow closer, she can feel him pulling back, like there’s something he’s hiding. What could be worse than falling for your commitment-phobic baby daddy?

A gutsy, tenacious heroine with a chip on her shoulder. A hockey coach with a secret, looking for redemption. Bad bachelor party favors, weird ice cream flavors, and ALL. THE. FEELS.

TW/CW: Contains mentions of (off page) pregnancy loss, drug abuse, and suicide.

Add to Goodreads / Pre-order

Author Bio:

Georgia Royce writes kissing books when she’s not downing coffee, refusing to use an umbrella in the rain, or stepping on rogue Lego. She lives in Portland.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

Hosted by:

BOOK BLITZ: Keeping My Girl by Angela Snyder #GIVEAWAY

Keeping My Girl
Angela Snyder
(Keeping What’s Mine, #2)
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Nico Vitale

The girl I fell in love with was ripped from my arms, never to be heard from again.

She was sold to the cruelest man on the planet, Constantine Carbone — my family’s number one enemy.

Over the years, I haven’t stopped looking for Selina.

And then one fateful night, I finally find her.

In a move that will undoubtedly bring war upon my family, I save Selina, killing Constantine’s son in the process.

I soon come to realize that Selina is nothing like the girl I once fell in love with, but none of that matters.

She’s mine.

She’s always been mine.

And when her past comes back to haunt her, threatening to steal her away from me again, I vow to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

This time I’m not letting her go.

Author’s note: Keeping My Girl is Nico Vitale’s story, and although it is a standalone, it would be better enjoyed after reading Keeping My Bride.**Warning: Due to the sensitive subject matter contained in this book, it may cause triggers. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

SELINA

I WAKE UP slowly, my vision blurry as I rapidly blink away the moisture in my eyes. Once my vision begins to clear, I study the room I’m in. It’s lavish, luxuriously decorated in muted grays and purples. And the first thing that comes to mind is that I’m back in Constantine’s clutches.

I try to remember the last thing that happened, and my heart begins to pound rapidly in my chest like an angry war drum when the memories come flooding back in a rush.

Gino was assaulting me.

There was a stranger in the room.

The knife.

Gino’s neck being sliced open.

Me being covered in blood…and other gross stuff that I can’t even think about right now.

Me struggling to breathe.

And then…nothing.

Now I am here, and I have no idea exactly where here is. Did the man in the room work for Constantine? No, he couldn’t have. Constantine wouldn’t have sent a hitman after his only son. And if I’m not with Constantine but with the man who drugged and kidnapped me…then I might be in bigger trouble than if I was with my original captor.

Sitting up, I stare down at my right arm, which has an IV needle sticking out of it. Wincing, I pull the needle out and quickly climb out of bed. My heart beats in a weird staccato as I grab onto things to help with my balance and make my way over to one of the large windows on the other side of the room.

It’s getting dark outside, so I can’t see much. My eyes dart around, fixating on the high fence surrounding the property. Have I been here before? I search for anything that looks familiar. Constantine has many homes scattered all over the US and in other countries, and I think I have been to all of them. Perhaps I’ve been here before with him.

I try to think harder, but my brain is fuzzy and I’m having trouble focusing.

My pills. I need my pills.

I stare down at my wrists. The fact that I’m not chained or handcuffed in some way and the fact that I am dressed, albeit in a hospital gown, is all new to me. I was Constantine’s property, and he liked to remind me of that often.

The door to the room swings open suddenly, and I jump back from the window, alarmed. A young woman dressed in dark blue scrubs enters the room, and her eyes widen when she sees me.

“You’re awake,” she says, clearly surprised. Her bright blue eyes immediately shift to my arm, and I follow her gaze there. “And you pulled your IV out.” She frowns when she sees the blood dripping down my arm. “Please get back in bed. I’m going to go get some bandages and disinfectant. I’ll be right back.”

She leaves the room, and the door is left open. When she disappears into another room down the hallway, I decide now is my chance to try to escape.

Author Bio:

Angela Snyder is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Angela grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania with a passion for reading and writing stories since she was a child. She recently decided to pursue her lifelong dream and published her debut novel, Vampire Next Door, in 2013. Angela currently lives in an even smaller town in Pennsylvania with her husband and her very spoiled Golden Retriever.

In October 2015, the paranormal romance anthology Wicked After Dark, including her standalone debut novel, Vampire Next Door, hit #13, her lucky number, on the New York Times bestseller list.

On January 17, 2019, the romantic suspense anthology, Wanted: An Outlaw Anthology, including her novel, Devious, hit #64 on the USA Today's Best Sellers List.

Angela has continued to top Amazon's bestseller charts with her newest release, Keeping My Bride.

Sign up for Angela's newsletter to be the first to know about her upcoming new releases, sales, freebies and more: http://eepurl.com/cNF0o5

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / TikTok / Newsletter

Hosted by: