Serena Akeroyd's Blog: All Things Serena! , page 230
July 6, 2014
Book Blitz: What To Read After FSOG
Book Title: What To Read After FSOG
Authors: Lauren Hawkeye, Liz Crowe, Beverly Preston, Erika Ashby, Nicole Taylor, Nikki Pink, Lisa Suzanne, Charity Parkerson, Lacey Wolfe, Khelsey Jackson, Summer Daniels
Genre: Romance
Release Date: June 9, 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
WTRAFSOG Gemstone Collection Part 3
Love Me For Me by Lauren Hawkeye – It’s been three years since Serena King learned to say no–no to the boys that were a desperate cry for help, no to the extra weight she put on in self defense, and most of all no to the abuse that has haunted her since she was fifteen. Now a sophomore in college, all she wants is to be normal. The last thing she expects is a guy who can make her want, well, everything. Alex Blackthorn is a bundle of contradictions, a sexy dark haired badass who goes slow… deliciously slow. And despite the iron will that has gotten her through the last few years, Serena finds herself unable to ignore the heat that sizzles between them whenever they’re together.
House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story (prequel novella of the Stewart Realty Series) by Liz Crowe – Jack Gordon, real estate broker, licensed builder, Juris Doctorate, has had his fair share of strife. His ability to cope, to fall down and pick himself back up has lead him to a place where he believes he has it all. Friends, money, cars, more women than he can count, and a club in Detroit where he can exorcise his inner demons, fill his days and his nights.
When he walks up to a penthouse door on a hot Ann Arbor summer afternoon, frustrated, exasperated and ready to call it quits after hours of condo shopping with a wealthy couple, the last thing on his mind is meeting his destiny.
No More Wasted Time by Beverly Preston -After losing her husband to a sudden heart attack, Tess Mathews escapes to Bora Bora to lay her husband and sorrow to rest. What she doesn’t expect is a new beginning.
Tom Clemmins is an A-list actor whose life revolves around work and an onslaught of women. He travels to Bora Bora for a much-needed break. Tom has a few ideas of how he’ll enjoy his vacation, but love isn’t one of them. Until he sees Tess.
Tess is torn between tremendous guilt and zealous lust when their boat ride turns into a week full of romance and desire neither thought imaginable. Can she set aside her remorse in order to find a second chance at love?
Moving Forward by Erika Ashby – Jesika Reynolds’ heart was left broken one year ago when her husband died, leaving her and her son alone in this world. Slowly, she started putting the pieces back together of her life. Knowing that she may never open herself up to love again. That was until the day Derek came into the picture.t
Derek Jordan’s charm drew her in with an instant connection, and familiarity that helps her feel at ease. Her heart is falling at his feet, but as their relationship grows, so does a secret from both of their pasts that neither saw coming. One by one, the threads slowly start to unravel.
The Devil’s Tattoo by Nicole Taylor – Zoe Granger picked up her first guitar the day her heart was smashed into a billion pieces. He best friend, Dee, tricks her into fronting his band, The Devil’s Tattoo, and they’re soon thrust into the spotlight and right into the path of indie rockers, The Stabs.
Will Strickland is one-fourth indie rock band, The Stabs, hot as hell and he’s only got eyes for Zoe.
The Devil’s Tattoo and The Stabs go on the road and it’s either going to be a highway to hell or a stairway to heaven. Only time will tell who will come out on top and Zoe’s determined to do it without getting her heart broken… again.
Sons of Mayhem by Nikki Pink – Good girl college junior Nicole is bored. Bored of her boyfriend, bored of frat parties, bored of college life and bored of studying.
When a chance to party with biker gang, the Sons of Mayhem, comes up she jumps at it.
Feel the thrill of the ride with Nicole, Jase and the Sons of Mayhem in this romantic suspense biker romance novel.
How He Really Feels by Lisa Suzanne – Julianne and her boss embark on a sexy affair that’s everything Julianne ever dreamed of… except she can’t tell anyone about it due to the company’s strict “No Dating” clause. What will happen if anyone finds out about their secret relationship? And how will Travis, her lifelong best friend, react when Julianne begins a relationship with someone who isn’t him?
Inoperative: Cyborg One by Charity Parkerson – Alexia is one of the few humans left who’d rather not have an android hanging over her shoulder all day. Unfortunately, when her job lands her on a list of people targeted by terrorists, she’s assigned a Machine Industry Leading Edge Sentinel, or “Miles,” for protection. Per Miles programming, he shouldn’t be able to override Alexia’s commands. However, he defies her at every turn. The lines between reality and fantasy blur as Alexia’s attraction for the mysterious android grows. Unfortunately, when she goes on a mission to seek the truth, what she learns might get her killed.
Finding Home by Lacey Wolfe – Julie Miller returns to her hometown pregnant, seeking guidance from her mom. Only, she doesn’t find her mom, she finds a stranger at her mother’s house. Mark Thomas moved to Brookfield to escape a tortured past. Julie brings back feelings he long ago crushed deep inside him.
Skyler Tower by Khelsey Jackson – Evangeline Skyler has acquired everything she wanted in her life, she is a successful C.E.O. of Sky Tech. The only thing she doesn’t have is a love life. When she meets a gorgeous dark haired man in a grey suit he starts to unravel her.
Angelo Giovanni is there to interview the beautiful but secreted Ms. Skyler. When he sees her he is stunned, her pictures don’t do her justice. He will do anything to be the one she turns to.
Someone is stalking her…
But when someone starts stalking her and sending her creepy messages she turns to her long time driver and friend Axel Roberts.
Who will be the one to steal her heart, and the one to break her trust?
Summer’s Journey Volumes 1-4 by Summer Daniels – Join Summer on her journey of sexual self-discovery; a well written, intelligent and sexy series about the beginning of her sensual, sultry love affair with life, and all the joys of being a woman.
Lauren Hawkeye – Lauren Hawkeye/ Lauren Jameson never imagined that she’d wind up telling stories for a living… though when she looks back, it’s easy to see that she’s the only one who is surprised. Always “the kid who read all the time”, Lauren made up stories about her favorite characters once she’d finished a book… and once spent an entire year narrating her own life internally. No, really. But where she was just plain odd before publication, now she can at least claim to have an artistic temperament.
Lauren lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her husband, toddler, pit bull and idiot cat, though they do not live in an igloo, nor do they drive a dogsled. In her nonexistent spare time Lauren can be found knitting (her husband claims that her snobby yarn collection is exorbitant), reading anything she can get her hands on, or sweating her way through spin class. She loves to hear from her readers.
Liz Crowe – Amazon best-selling author, beer marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse. While working as a successful Realtor, Liz made the leap into writing and 20 novels later she is trying her hand at thrillers and mysteries.
Beverly Preston – Bestselling Author Beverly Preston has been a stay at home mom for 21 years, although she prefers the title Domestic Engineer, raising her four amazing kids. As her children begin to venture out on their own, she’s left to shed a tear–for a minute–wonder what’s next in life, and embrace the feeling of empowerment that surely must’ve been wrapped in a present she received on her fortieth birthday.If Beverly isn’t at home riding her spin bike, you’ll find her spinning richly emotional and sinfully sexy romance stories.
Erika Ashby – Being born an “Army Brat”, Erika Ashby has been residing in Oklahoma the last 10 years finally putting an end to the nomad tendencies she had grown accustomed to. She’s a happily married woman who has 5 kids between her and her husband. She has an insane passion for music and embraces her Inner Groupie any chance she has. It wasn’t until the age of 29 that she realized she also had a hidden passion for reading; before then she claimed to have hated it. Six months after unlocking that deep desire she never knew she held, she turned the key to another chapter of her life which has become the desire to write. And the rest is still history in the making.
Nicole R. Taylor – Hey there. My name is Nicole R. Taylor (the R stands for radical…not really, but I’ll never tell) and I write books and stuff.I dream impossible dreams and live impossible fantasies. Sometimes I live out of a suitcase in far away lands. Sometimes I just like staying in.
I write about vampires with complexes, rock stars looking for epic love, insane witches, super heroes, post-apocalyptic warriors, soul baring music lovers and samurai sword wielding women…all from a desk in a country town in southern Australia.
Nikki Pink – Nikki Pink left home and is currently a professor of English at a small university in Korea. She enjoys cooking, running through rice fields and talking to her genius cat.
Lisa Suzanne – Lisa Suzanne started handwriting her books on yellow legal pads after she took a creative writing class in high school. She still has those legal pads full of stories, but now one of them is published under the title How He Really Feels. She currently works as a full time high school English teacher, and her favorite part of the year is summer. She has been blessed with the world’s best dog, a supportive family, and a husband who encouraged her to publish after reading one of her novels. She likes the advice of Ernest Hemingway’s famous quote, “Write drunk. Edit sober.”
Charity Parkerson – Charity Parkerson is an award winning and multi-published author with Ellora’s Cave Publishing, and Punk & Sissy Publications. Born with no filter from her brain to her mouth, she decided to take this odd quirk and insert it in her characters.
Lacey Wolfe – Lacey Wolfe is a cat hoarding romance author. She spends her time writing, reading, crocheting, and taking care of her family—both human and animal.
Khelsey Jackson – Khelsey hails from the Sunshine State (California) but moved to Minnesota when she was 11 years old. Her grandmother raised her and her brother. When she was 18 she did what any sane teen would do and moved to the city of sin, Las Vegas NV. There she met her handsome husband and the rest is history. She loves to read, and will read almost anything guess when you have read just about everything, the only next logical step is to write.
Summer Daniels – Summer Daniels is the webmistress of WTRAFSOG, a unbelievably active reader recommendation / author promotion community. She also has penned the first few volumes of a True Romance / Erotica series called Summer’s Journey which tracks her sexual awakening after a long, boring marriage.
250 reviews on Goodreads!
Awesome, awesome, awesome. :D I’ve just hit a lovely landmark of 250 reviews/ratings on Goodreads! Reason to celebrate, no? :D
The review that tipped me over on to 250 was a 5 star-er for All That Glitters:
“This series is way too hot to be reading in the dead heat of summer-but I can’t stop now! I need the final installment…..” by Elaine
I’m just happy dancing my way around the room right now.
Okay, not really. I’m sat at my computer, after all. :P But you get my drift. ;)
Thanks for all your support, guys!
July 5, 2014
Book Blitz: An Involuntary Spy and Predatory Kill by Kenneth Eade
Book Title: An Involuntary Spy and Predatory Kill
Author: Kenneth Eade
Genre: Financial/Legal Thriller
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Get the book that breaks open the GMO controversy
Seth Rogan was a shitty spy. Actually, he wasn’t a spy at all. Just a guy trying to do the right thing. As a biologist for the largest biotech company in the world, he had a great job, and thoroughly enjoyed all the perks. But when asked to do some tests on the company’s genetically engineered foods, he became entangled in a trail of corruption and fraud that he wanted no part of, but could not escape from. In a story so true to life it could almost be from today’s newspapers, Seth, having bit the hand who fed him, is on the run from them, and the full overreaching strength of the United States government as a fugitive, who finds temporary refuge with an old enemy of the U.S. But his peace is about to be broken as he finds himself in the role of an involuntary spy. This is a thriller with mystery, suspense, twists and turns and non stop action that will pull you in and captivate you with all the elements you would expect from the genre; spies, CIA, Russians, FBI; but not how you would expect them. Being centered around the controversial subject of the danger of genetically engineered foods, the book breaks open the controversy.
1
The headlines of every newspaper and every Internet news service ran the same story. His story; the story of Seth Rogan, 45 year old genetic biologist. Some were calling him a whistle blower.
Society tends to stick labels on everything and everyone. The label that is given to you will stick with you for a lifetime, especially in these days of the fledging Internet, which is swallowing up and replacing traditional journalism with real time news. The separation that once was between news and opinion has blurred and the two have bled into one another.
Some were calling him a traitor. The president of the United States said he was wanted for “espionage” and “aiding our enemies.” Somewhere between his good intentions and unselfish acts he had become the “bad guy.” Espionage was always something that Seth had read about in novels or watched in the movies. He had never experienced it in real life. Until now. He didn’t feel like James Bond. He knew he couldn’t step off this Aeroflot nonstop flight from Washington to Moscow clean shaven, shoot ten bad guys who were on his tail, and then relax in bed with a beautiful female Russian spy, sipping on a vodka martini, shaken not stirred.
Seth stirred uneasily in his seat, as the Captain made an announcement over the PA system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. I’m afraid we have had bit of change of routing. We’re about 150 kilometers east of Kiev and have been directed by air traffic control to set down here. There is no cause for alarm – it’s only routine. After about an hour or so we’ll be back on our way to Moscow.”
The 777 lurched as the passengers moaned and groaned. They had already endured a long flight, preceded by a lengthy mechanical delay. They were tired. Tired of the bad food. Tired of the uncomfortable seats. Just plain tired.
No cause for alarm? Maybe not for them, but in Seth’s case there was definitely cause for alarm. The last time he had checked, the Soviet Union had long been disbanded, and Ukraine and Russia were separate countries. But, apparently, the Ukraine was now the 51st state of the United States, because the U.S. was forcing a Russian plane to land there. Seth’s heart beat as fast as a crack addict’s, almost thumping out of his chest. He clutched tightly to his briefcase, even though he had long since spilled all the beans by electronic upload. He held no more secrets on him to reveal – except one. The one without scientific backup and peer reviewed studies. The scariest one. The secret that he held onto to keep him alive. The plane began its descent into Kiev and with every air bump, Seth’s panic renewed. He became nauseous.
This was it. He was screwed. Doomed to spend the rest of his life in jail, or, even worse, to be shot on sight. Well, he deserved it for what he had done. Let the show begin.
Seth looked out the window at the cold, harsh landscape. It was barren and dry, a forest of a million tiny sticks. He tried to keep his mind clear. He knew what to do.
The plane touched down on the tarmac. The purser robotically performed her landings “voice over” on the PA system.
“Welcome to Kiev, ladies and gentlemen, where local time is approximately 6:30 a.m. We will be taxying for a while, so please keep seated with your seatbelts on until aircraft has parked at gate.”
Yeah, like Kiev was just where Seth wanted to be. How could this happen? He was so careful – he didn’t waste any time – got right out of there. How did they know he was on this plane? Russia didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States, and he had chosen Moscow as his route of escape. It was easy to get a non-stop flight from the states and the government didn’t tag you when you were leaving; only when you were coming into the states. He was naïve to think they would let him bolt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it will be necessary for you to deplane here. Please take all of your belongings with you, and hold on to your boarding passes so you can re-board aircraft. And please have passports out and open for police for inspection at door of aircraft,” said the purser.
The passengers fumbled for their belongings, and trudged down the aisle toward the front of the plane. Seth stayed put, clutching his briefcase. A cute blonde flight attendant came up to him, smiling.
“Sir you’ll have to deplane here. It’s only for about one hour.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sir?”
The poor flight attendant didn’t know what to do. Her smile faded into a frown.
“Please call the Captain.”
“Sir, please, I…”
“Call the Captain, I need to speak to the Captain.”
The flight attendant, flustered, went to the intercom phone and picked it up. Within minutes, as the plane continued to empty, a pilot approached.
“Sir, what is the problem?”
“Are you the Captain?”
“I’m the first officer. Now are you going to tell me why you refuse to leave the aircraft?”
“It’s me they’re after. I’m the reason they forced the plane to land here. My name is Seth Rogan and I’m a political refugee. I’ve petitioned for asylum from the Russian government, and the Ukraine has nothing to do with it. I won’t surrender to anyone but a representative of the Russian Embassy.”
“Sir, I…”
“Did you hear what I said?” Seth clutched at his briefcase, nervously.
“Sir, what is in the briefcase?”
“Call the Russian Embassy. Seth Rogan. I’m not leaving the plane except with them. I’m not coming out. Period.”
The First Officer turned and left. Now the plane was almost entirely empty. After a few moments, he returned with another pilot.
“Sir,” he said, “I’m Captain Davidoff. I understand you have some kind of diplomatic issue. But can you tell me what is in the case?”
“Have you called the Russian Embassy?”
“Yes we have, sir. Now can you please tell me what you have in there?”
“Why are you so curious?”
“Because, sir, the way you’re holding it. And sweating – you look very nervous.”
“You’d be nervous too if you were about to be taken by the CIA.”
“CIA? Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but…”
“Of course you don’t. I’ll leave your plane, but only with an official from the Russian Embassy.”
The Captain turned to talk to his First Officer and spoke to each other in Russian. “Is the crew off?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m not getting off until I find out what’s going on.”
“I’m with you.”
Two armed police, accompanied by a man in a grey business suit, Jack Singer, one of the CIA’s men in Kiev, approached them. He spoke.
“What is your name?” he asked. Typical American accent, Midwest probably.
“What’s yours?” said Seth, facetiously.
“That’s not important. May I see some identification sir?”
“I don’t have any.”
“What happened to it?”
“It fell in the toilet.”
Singer turned to one of the armed policeman and ordered, “Go look in the toilet.”
The Captain interrupted. “Nobody is going anywhere in my plane without asking me first.”
“Sir,” said Singer, “This is a matter of national security.”
“Which nation?” Seth chimed in. “I didn’t know the United States government had the right to force a plane down in international airspace.”
“Neither did I,” said the Captain. “This is a Russian plane. And that’s not what I was told. What’s going on here?”
“I’m sorry Captain, I can’t tell you. It’s on a need to know basis,” said Singer.
“Well I happen to be the pilot in charge and I need to know. I’m responsible for this plane and everyone on it.”
“Captain, this is not about you. Sir, I’m asking you again, what is your name?”
“Don’t you know?” Seth replied. “I’m Barney Rubble, you know, Fred’s best friend?”
“I don’t think you realize sir, you are in a lot of trouble.”
In Russian, a voice from the front of the plane boomed out, “I don’t think you realize, Jack that the CIA has no jurisdiction here and this man is under my protection.”
The voice was from Yuri Streltsov, a strapping young Russian man, about 30, with a neck so thick it looked like his head was directly attached to his shoulders, biceps like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and not the best command of the English language.
“Hello Yuri,” said Singer.
Yuri flashed his badge at the police and they nodded.
“Let’s go Barney,” Yuri said, as he made a sweeping motion with his hand for Seth to come. Singer smiled slyly at them as they exited the plane.
“You may be able to walk through this airport, Yuri, but I can’t guarantee you safe passage once you leave,” said Singer.
“Oh Jack, I didn’t know you cared,” said Yuri.
“What did he mean?” said Seth to Yuri.
“He means they have team of assassins waiting outside and they have no problem killing me along with you because after we are dead they will disappear and our bodies will never be found.”
“Great. But you have men too, right?”
“Just me.”
“Just you?”
“Don’t worry. Here, put this on.”
Yuri handed him a heavy grey vest with straps, like a life jacket.
“What’s that?”
“Bullet proof vest.”
Rocketing to the top of four Amazon best-seller lists, “”Predatory Kill: A Legal Thriller”” by best-selling author Kenneth G. Eade has been called “a wild ride” by critics. In the vein of his wildly popular first novel, “”An Involuntary Spy””, Eade delivers another solid and intricately plotted tale. At its core, “”Predatory Kill”” is an examination of the chaos and corruption of the 2008 mortgage crisis, and asks the vital question: “are banks above the law?”
Brent Marks had paid his dues as a lawyer, having taken his share of divorces and drunk driving cases over his 20 year career, but had finally reached a place in his life where he could take on cases of social importance. What he least expected was for April Marsh’s predatory lending case against the big banks for wrongful foreclosure on her parent’s home to turn into a murder investigation. April’s mother was murdered. Her father was beaten within an inch of his life, and she believes their predatory lender is to blame.
1
A glint of orange bounced off the arched windows across Anacapa Street as Brent Marks exited the tall wooden doors of the Santa Barbara courthouse. The old courthouse seemed to have a soul. The soul of every jurist who ever made an argument between the tall walls of each formidable courtroom. The soul of every man who ever sat before a jury of his peers in judgment since 1927.
How he dreamed of doing another grand trial in the old Spanish colonial building. Brent had spent the first 15 years of his 20 year career paying the dues leading up to that moment, with bankruptcies, divorces and drunk driving cases, but since then he had earned the right to take the cases he wanted – cases of social importance.
As he strolled down De La Guerra to the small office on quaint State Street where he had hung his shingle 20 years earlier, Brent inhaled the fresh ocean air and thanked himself for deciding on Santa Barbara. It was a refreshing break from the bustle of smog-bound Los Angeles, where he would have been an ant scurrying around with thousands of other ants, each trying to make a name for themselves in the law business. Santa Barbara was a small town, which sometimes can be an impediment to a newcomer, but, during his “dues paying days” he had made a name for himself, and established a thriving private practice.
Brent turned left on State Street, feeling the privilege of being able to walk to and from his work. He imagined State Street 100 years ago, with the Wells Fargo stage coach barreling through, and the town growing up around the route. It was the perfect match for his heritage.
His father was an immigrant from Spain. Jose Marquez had changed the family name to Marks, to avoid the stereotypes that he felt were cast on the family by people who thought they were Mexican. Brent could have passed for Mexican himself, with his dark brown curly hair and dark eyes, but he was much taller than most Mexicans. He was fluent in Spanish, which helped in the old days when he was a “poor man’s lawyer.” The Spaniards had tamed this land and now it was Brent’s turn. He loved Santa Barbara.
He had made it to his State Street office just in time to check messages and make sure everything was in order for the big weekend. No work, only play and relaxation for the next 48 hours. As he entered the office, Melinda Johnson, his secretary, looked worried. It was unusual for her to be there past quitting time on a Friday.
“Hey Mimi, what’s wrong?” Brent asked her.
“You’ve got a call waiting. I told him you weren’t in, but he said he’d wait.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know, he won’t say. He’s really weird, Mr. Marks.”
“Why don’t we let him just die on hold then?”
“I think you should answer.”
Brent entered his office, sat down behind his plush mahogany desk, and picked up the phone.
“Hello, this is Brent Marks.”
The eerie voice on the other end was cold and inhuman. “Do you know how fast a bullet goes, Counselor?” it asked.
“Who is this?”
“Seventeen hundred feet per second. At that velocity it will crack open your skull and blast your brains all over your wall like a watermelon being hit by a sledge hammer.” The caller cackled like a wounded chicken.
Brent quickly switched on the recording device to the receiver. He had bought that baby to record threats from ex-husbands whose wives had obtained restraining orders against them but which Brent had always refused to dismiss, even in cases of so called “reconciliation.”
“I don’t think I got your name, mister?”
The voice responded with a maniacal chuckle, which turned into a full blown belly laugh, like Vincent Price in the final stanza of Michael Jackson’s Thriller.
“No judge in the world can stop a bullet, Counselor. No piece of paper can do that.”
“This conversation is really interesting, but if I don’t have your name, I…”
“Think hard.”
“I’m not going to play games with you.”
“Oh, this is not a game. I assure you. I’m just giving you a little preview. Wherever you go, I’ll be there. When you’re at the corner at Starbucks, having your mocha grande in the morning before going to court, I’ll be there. You won’t see me, but I’ll be there. All it takes is one shot – one shot in the head.”
“And why would you want to shoot me?”
“I am a servant of the Lord, Counselor. I do His work.”
“You’re saying that you’re going to kill me because God told you so?” Without answering, the caller went into a sermon, like an evangelist preacher trying to convert a world full of infidels.
“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, sayeth the Lord! When justice is done, it is a joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers. I am your terror, Counselor. I am the hand of the Lord and I will strike you down!”
Suddenly, Brent realized who this character could be. Last year, he took on a case for Felipe Sanchez, who had rented a house from a crazy religious fanatic named Joshua Banks. When Banks found out that Sanchez had moved in his girlfriend, all hell broke loose. “I won’t have fornication in my house!” Banks decreed. Sanchez ignored him and three days later, came home to find himself locked out of his house and all his furniture thrown out on the street. When Brent succeeded in getting the police to open the house, Banks turned off the utilities, and Sanchez sued. Thanks to a little known provision in the Civil Code, daily damages were awarded to Sanchez at trial which allowed him to take his judgment, levy it against the house, and become the owner of it. Justice can be hell for some people.
“Threatening my life is a felony, Mr. Banks,” said Brent, “Do you really want to go to prison?”
“Do you think I care about your court? Your prison? There is only one lawgiver and judge, and that is the Lord God! Judge not, that you not be judged, sayeth the Lord. Man does not have the right to sit in judgment of his fellow man.”
“You’re not God, Mr. Banks.” Ignoring him, Banks pressed on.
“Your judgment has been pronounced, Counselor. And I’m afraid there is no chance for a pardon. The punishment is death.”
Brent heard a click, followed by the dull dead sound of dial tone. It was now after 5:30 p.m. on a Friday. There was no way he could get a restraining order until the court opened on Monday morning, and the police would refuse to do anything about it unless he had one.
“Mims, I’ve gotta work you this weekend.”
“Oh, boss, it’s my sister’s birthday tomorrow and we planned to go to Solvang to see Legally Blonde. Do I have to?” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes over her power blue eyes. Melinda was 20 something, attractive, with auburn brown hair, and had a huge crush on the boss. But Brent had long since made it clear that their relationship would be strictly business. Still, that did not prevent her from using her feminine wiles whenever she had the occasion, or, in this case, the need.
“Sorry, but if I don’t get a restraining order against this crazy Joshua Banks, I’m afraid you may not have a boss by Monday.”
“That was Banks? Oh, I remember that guy. He’s nuts.”
“You can do it at home. I’ll dictate it now and drop it by your house in about two hours. But I need it by Sunday night. Court opens at 8:30.”
“Okay boss, you can count on me.”
It was a good thing that Brent had not yet made any plans for the weekend, because this weekend would be reserved for writing up a motion for a restraining order and trying to stay alive long enough for the Court to grant it and the Sheriff to serve it.
Best Selling Author Kenneth G. Eade is an international business lawyer, based in Los Angeles, California, specializing in international law, Internet Law, appeals and complex litigation. He is a member of the Bar of California, the federal District Court for the Central District of California, and the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeal. He holds a Juris Doctor in Law from Southwestern University School of Law, and a B.A. in Liberal Studies from California State University, Northridge. He is also an accomplished filmmaker and a freelance writer for the Los Angeles Daily Journal.
Happiness is…
Happiness is hitting the FREE Top 500, the Top 100, and the Top 10 of three different genres this last week. :) Feeling very happy that over 1000 different people now have Mona’s story on their Kindles and hopefully, they’ll want to read more and dive into Marina’s as well.
On top of that, happiness is almost finishing another book! :D I’m still working on Eddie’s story, part of the Naughty Nookie series-I promise!-but when another book calls, it calls. I’m at 98.3% of my target, 90k words, but I think I’ll be writing more than that for this one. Potentially 95k-ish.
It’s a contemporary ménage and I can’t wait to share it with you all!
Have a great 4th July weekend, everyone! x
July 4, 2014
4th JULY SALES BLITZ!!
99 cents
The Wilde One by Savannah Young
AMAZON
Fire On Ice by Dakota Madison
AMAZON
Marigny Street & Lotus Blossom Lane by Annie Rose Welch
AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | AMAZON
Jezebel by Koko Brown
Because of Luke by FX Scully
AMAZON
Blackout by FX Scully
AMAZON
Serendipity by Janet Nissenson
AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE
Splendor by Janet Nissenson
AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE
Invitation by Christina Hoffman
AMAZON
Flashpoint by MC Cerny
AMAZON | AMAZON UK | BARNES & NOBLE | SMASHWORDS | ITUNES | KOBO
Love Lost by Love Belvin
AMAZON
Love Unexpected by Love Belvin
AMAZON
Lussuria by SJ Molly
AMAZON
L”amore by SJ Molly
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Pulled Beneath by Marni Mann
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July 3, 2014
Book Blitz: Andreas Dubai Vol. 1, 2, & 3 by Bella Ross
Book Title: Andreas Dubai
Author: Bella Ross
Genre: BDSM / Erotic Romance (Novella Series)
Release Date: May 16, 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
One determined Journalist….
Freelance journalist, Genevieve Parker, has just been handed the biggest story of her career. But there’s one problem…Going undercover as a submissive in one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs in the world was more than she bargained for. But that’s nothing compared to the man she meets there. Andreas Contos. Her assignment. Gorgeous. Powerful. Mysterious. Genevieve is fascinated…intrigued. But does her intense attraction and willingness to go places with him she’s never gone before sexually really have to do with writing her exposé? Feeling confused and overwhelmed, every instinct tells her to run before her professional facade comes crashing down…before she has to choose between obligation and desire….
One elusive billionaire…
Greek billionaire, Andreas Contos, is more than he seems. Between the powerful company he keeps and the secrets that lurk behind closed doors, trusting anyone is out of the question – especially the lush and sensual woman he just met. But there is something different about Genevieve – a guarded nature he’s anxious to penetrate. Unable to resist her, Andreas proceeds in taking her under his wing for the night to show her his world – a world of exquisite pleasure. As the two of them get deeper in exploring the eroticism of mind and body, danger watches them from the shadows….
Bella Ross has many passions, two of which are writing and travelling. It is no surprise then that her ‘Wanderlust Series’ & ‘Club Pluto Series’ take place in glamorous capitals or exotic locales around the world. Its the perfect backdrop/setting for her characters to explore and indulge their lusts and passions, loves and desires.
When she’s not writing, she’s reading, or gallivanting all over seeking new inspiration, or people watching while enjoying a latte at Starbucks and jotting down ideas.
She loves to hear from readers, and looks forward to interacting through her various social media channels. So stop by and say hi!
Andreas – Dubai VOL I
Chapter 1
Lifestyle journalist Genevieve Parker stood in the shadows to the right of the bar and did her best to tame her growing anxiety. How the hell had this happened?
She was in Dubai – in the middle of an arid desert – on the southern coast of the Arabian Peninsula just south of Abu Dhabi, about to embark on the worst nightmare of her life. Club Pluto – the most exclusive BDSM club in the world.
She gave herself a moment to calm down, pulled air into her lungs, held it, and exhaled slowly. But her pulse was still humming, her body trembling.
She briefly looked around. Her eyes adjusted to the subdued light, and she could finally see into the dark and shadowy corners of the club. What had been hidden when she first walked in was now fully revealed.
Discomfort gripped her belly, as her eyes swept over the opulence placed over three floors with unrivalled views of Dubai Marina. The shimmering skyline was breathtaking. The mood inside surreal. A kaleidoscope of colors and textures and sounds. The soothing darkness, erotic rather than romantic, was made more so by the golden glow of candles scattered about and red-toned lamps on tables and along the back ledge of the bar. She’d never been in a place this beautiful, rich or decadent. The overhead red and gold chandeliers bathed the sumptuous space in a sultry haze. From the burnished gold walls and eclectic statutes, to the jeweled colored velvet cushions, rich wood finishes and Asian flower arrangements everywhere was a delicious compliment to the well-dressed movers and shakers in her midst. The layout and décor were simply magnificent, especially the ornate Chinese screens that had sectioned off the sprawling space into intimate corners and niches for romantic tête-à-têtes. It added an air of mystery to the place, a touch of the forbidden. She could only imagine the kind of shenanigans that went on behind them.
As she looked around some more, the club was buzzing but not to capacity. Perhaps it was still too early for that. But many were already lounging in groups on red velvet couches, while several huddled around the bar, and the rest were sitting at small cafe style tables scattered about with drinks in hand murmuring their private conversations which was barely audible over the erotic trancelike music coming from the wall speakers. Each one, she noted, was totally at ease with the unabashed sensual and erotic energy around them. Of course they would be. This was Club Pluto. People came here to indulge their deepest fantasies or watch others fulfill theirs. Although she doubted that anyone beside the VIP members really knew what went on the third floor.
Genevieve cast her gaze to the floor, forcing her eyes shut and trying to calm her racing pulse. It was no use.
She groaned inwardly.
I need you to cover the story Parker, her boss had said. Due to a broken leg, Suzanne won’t be able to complete the assignment. You’re the only one available to do it. Larry Tams had peered at her with a stern frown.
At the time she’d answered yes, absolutely she’d cover for Suzanne. But that was before she’d known what the assignment was. And where. And what it required.
Now, agreeing had been a big mistake. Big. Huge.
Oh, God. What was she doing here? She was a respected freelance lifestyle journalist, writing features and articles about art and culture and politics, and not about BDSM sub-culture of whips and chains! What had Tams been thinking? Never mind that, what the hell was Suzanne thinking?
Apparently, Club Pluto was the venue of choice for billionaires with dark and kinky urges. And the hefty membership fee they paid ensured their privacy and bought them the privilege of indulging those urges. Membership was by invite only. Shrouded in secrecy, the main purpose for Club Pluto was kept within the tight confines of its elite members. Men with more money than God. Most of its patrons, if not all, had no idea what Club Pluto was really about. Its buzz as one of the hottest clubs in the world, catering to the uber-cool and monied crowd, was enough to keep inquiring minds at bay. A clever strategy if there ever was one. But Genevieve didn’t care about all that. There was only one member in particular that she’d come to inquire about tonight.
Greek billionaire, Andreas Contos, turned world class philanthropist was on every journalist’s wish list. The dream interview. Rumors and speculation about his past abounded. CIA. Assassin. Mercenary. Thus the intrigue. But they were only rumors mostly because members of the press had yet to prove them. As for his status as a Dominant, well, that was yet unproven too. But according to Suzanne, he was leader of the pack. If her claim was true, then Andreas Contos was going to be one hell of a headline.
From a journalistic point of view she could see the fascination. But from a personal one, who the hell cared? Did the world really need another exposé about a wealthy man with bizarre sexual tastes? Hardly in her opinion.
The claws of irritation gripped her insides as she steeled herself for what she was about to do. It was a job, an assignment. How could she have refused? She needed the money. Hell, with the state of the economy right now every penny was gold. As a freelance journalist being picky or fussy was a breath away from living on the streets. Unless the assignment risked life and limb, refusing would’ve been downright stupid.
She knew nothing about the lifestyle nor had any interest in it. However, their readers would. The audience of ‘The World’ magazine, a popular monthly covering lifestyle, travel and culture, had eclectic tastes and appetites. The story would titillate, fascinate and push the boundaries of sexual taboos. As far as she was concerned, it was just plain weird.
Not that she was a prude. Sure, she was a small-town girl, but she’d lived in New York long enough to have stumbled upon a few lovers. Not that she was all that great in the sac. Really, making love was rather overrated, at least for her. Obviously the men she chose either didn’t know what pleased a woman or they weren’t interested in pleasing her. She didn’t know and hadn’t cared enough to ask.
Eventually, she’d resigned herself to the fact that men didn’t really want or desire her. They preferred women with trimmer bodies, who were uninhibited, and more sexually inclined. That realization had hurt like a bitch. She may not have been a modern day Aphrodite but at least she was a good person. Smart, sensible, practical, hardworking, unselfish. Relatively average, if not attractive. She gave all she could to her mom, her job. It was enough, right?
But evidently such qualities did not give men erections. As a result, her sex life was non-existent. She’d learned to channel those energies into her work instead. And besides, the idea of sexual exploration and experimentation sounded exhausting and time consuming. Who the hell had the time in a 24/7 world anyway?
Yeah, her sexual experiences were limited for this assignment. But her experience in her job was not and therefore she would not allow her biases to dictate the outcome. After all, she was a professional.
This assignment demanded that of her. In a big way. Integrity was a central part of her core and she’d be damned if a few niggling fears and insecurities would prevent her from completing it.
For the past five years work had come first. She’d garnered a reputation for being persistent, thorough and cool. And those adjectives, she decided, were the reasons for staying put because she was going to get what she’d come for. The time wasn’t going to be wasted. All she needed was an hour. Sixty minutes. In that time she could gather enough information for a concise and very exclusive article about Andreas Contos.
Well actually, more like an exposé. It would be a coup, the biggest of her career, and maybe, just maybe help put her on the map. It was true that she only confined her skill to articles and profiles, but at heart she was a storyteller, a part she had yet to explore, and had relegated that hope to the ‘someday’ box within her mind. As she had done with so many other things.
Oh, God.
Undercover at a BDSM club.
Fabulous!
She pushed out a steadying breath and wrapped her rigid fingers around the strap of her navy blue purse. All she had to do was don her voyeuristic writer persona and observe from a safe distance. She wasn’t here to participate, after all, only watch, file and absorb.
Not that she judged people who were into BDSM. No, of course not. It was the extremes she questioned. The means to attain pleasure. And most all, the element of pain.
Why? Because her father had been a sadistic bastard.
But now was not the time to think about her abusive father. It was in the past and a lifetime ago. The anger would wait, it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It hadn’t for nearly twenty years. But she’d contained it, rolled mountains over it
Ever hear of earthquakes, Genevieve?
Shrugging off those thoughts, her eyes scanned the club once more, searching for the mysterious Andreas Contos. Her eyes travelled to the back of the club where a staircase rose up from the main floor in a circular fashion and disappeared mysteriously into the far recesses of the building. It reminded Genevieve of a labyrinth with ineffable depths. She knew the play area was up there and so were the rooms which members had to pay extra to use for private indulgences. She couldn’t even imagine what was going on up there right now. But down here, beside the subdued opulence and exclusive vibe, felt like a normal club at first glance. Well kind of, if you removed the waitresses rushing about in black, tight latex pants and red corsets, cinched so tight, Genevieve wondered how they breathed. Otherwise everything looked on the up and up.
Jesus. How was she going to pull this undercover shit off? Just the thought of such sexual activities taking place upstairs filled her with…with what? Disgust? No, that was too harsh of a word for what she was feeling. Curiosity? No, that wasn’t it either. Anticipation? No, not quite. Turned on? She froze. She swallowed.
Oh, God.
Turned on? Really, Genevieve? Was she nuts? Then again she stood in a BDSM club. That realization created all sorts of funny feelings in her.
And then she saw him. Those funny feelings instantly knotted in her stomach at the sight of him.
He was sitting with a few men in a spacious VIP booth that allowed plenty of room for the five men, all above six feet tall, with shoulder spans to match. Was stunning even the right word to describe him? She wondered. His hair was dark as coal, thick and wavy, just long enough to brush the tip of his shirt collar. His eyes, thanks to the angle of the club lighting, showed green, vibrant as emeralds, like his aura. He was on the end, probably because he had the widest shoulders and longest legs. The white shirt he wore with his black slacks had to be tailored for those shoulders. He reeked of money. And a man who sat like that knew his net worth. But she wasn’t after his cash. Just to observe him in action. If she ever got up the courage to leave the corner that is.
“There you are.”
She snapped out of her mental bubble to find herself facing a tall and powerful man. He had dark, close-cropped hair and intense blue eyes, causing a shiver to run over her skin. She could tell he noticed, but he remained smooth, professional.
“I’m Tye Warner. I just wanted to come by and meet you. Gary Newman called me earlier to inform me that you would be coming to check out our club.”
“Yes.” Sort of check out the club. Andreas Contos being the reason. The third floor being the other. Once Suzanne had nailed down the billionaire’s club of choice, she’d contacted Gary Newman, a politician and a member at Club Pluto, and called in a favor. At first he’d been reluctant, but Suzanne had harassed him for an invite until he relented. Suzanne had enough dirt to have people do her bidding. Yeah, she knew where all the bodies were buried. “Its been interesting so far.”
“I know at first sight its a lot to take in,” he said. “But there’s nothing to be nervous about.” He ran a light, reassuring hand down her arm. “We have security inside and out. The staff knows to keep a diligent eye on VIP guests such as yourself. So you are safe.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “That helps a little.”
“Good.” He smiled. “So where do you want to start?”
“I…um. Well, I don’t know…” Her gaze flickered, a brief flash. Still, Tye shifted and determined exactly whom she’d been looking at.
“I see. Give me a second.” And he was gone.
Even though she felt awkward being left alone at the bar, she couldn’t help from noting he had a fine walk. Leather pants fitted tight, black shirt tucked in, the tight firm ass and the predatory grace of a panther commanded the eye of every woman in the room.
Stopping at one booth, he stroked a proprietary hand over a blue-eyed woman with red hair. From the way her gaze heated, whatever he said to her was obviously intimate. His eyes flamed in response. Stroking her hair once more, he moved away and straight toward the table where Genevieve’s target was sitting.
“Oh, shit, no…”
She stood, paralyzed, as he put a hand on Andreas’ shoulder, leaning down to his ear. If every man at that booth turned around and stared at her, she was going to pretend a bomb was about to blow and dive behind the bar for cover.
Andreas stilled, glancing up at Tye. Then he shifted his gaze to her.
In those few nervous seconds, Genevieve debated whether to meet his eyes or not. Smile, not smile. Oh, Jesus. This is what she always did. Worried about her appearance whenever a man looked her way. What, with her lush breasts, round hips, full ass, it was a far cry from Victoria Secret model perfection. That was for damn sure.
Men like him, she knew, preferred beauty if not physical perfection in a woman. She doubted he would like her. She’d heard the tales of submission that went on here from Suzanne and she wasn’t the type to fall to her knees before a man. She might fantasize about it, but she had too much pride to actually do it. So since she didn’t qualify on either count, she had to chill. This was only an undercover assignment and not a love match. Not that a part of her couldn’t imagine what it would be like to submit to a man like Andreas Contos but she was too practical to indulge in such a fantasy.
Besides, he was way out of her league. From Suzanne’s notes, she’d learned some of the lingo associated with the lifestyle. Andreas was what those in the lifestyle would call a true Dom, a naturally dominant man that everyone automatically deferred to without being aware of it or knowing why.
And Lord help her, he was gorgeous. His face was flawlessly sculpted, chiseled jaw dusted with stubble. Strong, proud, beautifully male. What would it feel like to make love to a man like Andreas Contos? She frowned at that. Hardly appropriate. And totally unlikely.
She kept her eyes on anything but him. First she watched the people huddled around the bar not too far from where she was standing, then the hot looking waitresses serving food and drinks with machine like efficiency, then a man and woman getting up from their table, arm in arm, heading to the staircase. There was no doubt what was on their minds or where they were going. It didn’t matter, just so long as she didn’t look in Andreas Contos’ direction.
But it was useless. She could feel his stare demanding her attention. Genevieve fought the pull on instinct. Finally, she shifted her gaze and locked eyes with him. His expression changed. It wasn’t quite a smile, and it wasn’t quite amusement. It was something else. Approval.
While she knew she was standing by the bar, people shuffling past her, music vibrating beneath her feet and off the walls, it all melted away. Her breath went short and she couldn’t be sure why her heart was pounding. Fear, excitement, tension all went to battle. It was scary as hell. And she stood still, like a deer caught in the headlights, blinded by that hot, focused stare.
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MONA by Serena Akeroyd:
Simone Barranquet is in a rut. In fact, her life is one huge rut. Until she falls into Zane Matthews’ (The Zane Matthews!) arms and unwittingly finds herself.
But even then, life can’t hand Mona a candy bar. There’s always something bittersweet to spoil her happiness and in this instance, it’s Zane’s husband.
Yeah. Husband!
Can Mona wade through the fallout to find her own Happy Ever After? Or is she destined to lead a Zane-free and love-free life?
If she can grab the bull by the balls, then maybe, just maybe she can.
But does she have enough cojones of her own to do just that?
Over 400 pages of lovely ménage, Naughty Nookiness!
Fall Into Love is free until the 7/4 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EC100VC
Crazy Little Thing Called Lust is free until the 7/4http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F027TWA
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July 2, 2014
Release Day Event: The Stage by Shelby Rebecca
Book Title:The Stage
Author:Shelby Rebecca
Genre: New Adult Rock Star Romance
Release Date:July 2, 2014
Hosted by:Book Enthusiast Promotions
Mia the saint.
Kolton the sinner.
Kolton Royce is a tatted, bad boy rock star at the top of his game.
Mia Phoenix is an overly responsible nineteen-year-old striving for stardom since losing her parents in a house fire.
When Mia ends up on Kolton’s team for the debut of the new nationwide singing competition, The Stage, she’s not sure if it’s her or her voice that he’s hellbent to control.
After he takes special interest in her welfare, they’ve been warned, any contact between them outside of filming is strictly forbidden.
He has other ideas.
She’s a phoenix rising from the ashes, the only one who understands the pain that lies beneath the persona. Though he’s not sure if he’s too bad for her, he can’t stay away.
All sinners have a past. All saints have a future. But, does being born in fire make the fissures weak in all the wrong places, or stronger than they’ve ever known?
Shelby grew up between two mountains and a lake in Wasilla, Alaska. She used to run around in the tall grass, catch frogs, rescue dragonflies, ride horses, and ice-skate during recess. She still likes adventures and has even gone skydiving. Today she lives in Northern California with her husband, John, and their daughter, Elise, their two dogs, and a fish named Jade.
I wait for Kolton on the front porch swing. Earlier, while he was in the shower, I opened the back doors of the helicopter and got my bag out. I’ve packed my clothes and am staring out at the hill with all the cacti and desert bushes. I hear his steps coming toward me, and he sits down next to me, much calmer now.
“You need to bring the phone I gave you everywhere. Promise me.”
“Why?” He glares at me, so I concede. “I promise.” I’m struck by the green in his eyes, the red fleck embedded into them like rust. He picks up my legs and drapes them over his thighs as he moves closer.
My eyes closed as he takes charge, wrapping his fingers around the back of my neck and tilting my chin up with his thumbs. “Look at me,” he says. I open my eyes just long enough to see his pained expression before he eases some of the ache with his lips on mine, soft and expressive, like a song.
His tongue coaxes me to respond, and I do. His hand moves from behind my knee up to my hips as he licks and sucks his way to just below my ear before taking my lips again. I pull his tongue into my mouth, sucking on it. The way he moves inside my mouth makes me crazy for him. I want him. I know I can’t resist.
He takes my upper arms and holds me in place as he kisses me one more time, softly. Then he pulls away. I move toward him and he shakes his head ‘no.’ I realize then, that was our goodbye kiss.
“What happens now?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“Now I try and live without you,” he says. I’m spinning around that statement as he takes my hand, walks me toward his rock star ride, opens the back door to the helicopter and puts my bag inside. We fly away, and all the way home, he never offers to let me take the controls again.
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