Tag Archive | Book Blitz

Calming the Riot

Title: Calming the Riot
Series: A Riot MC Novel
Author: Karen Renee
Genre: MC Romance

Release Date: May 28, 2019

“… totally captivated throughout this addictive page turner.” ~ Wendy’s Book Blog

 

“… well written MC romance story full of action, suspense and love.” ~ Amazon Review


“… has great chemistry, intense heat and lots of action.” ~ Amazon Review

 

Jim “Liar” Huntley’s loyalty to the Riot MC brotherhood is unquestionable. Especially since before becoming a fully-patched member, he killed a man to protect a brother. When a favor to another brother forces him to meet Andrea Paglia, he knows she’s out of his league. Making matters worse, she is off-limits because she’s old friends with the President’s old lady. Weeks later, Liar notices his brothers ogling Andrea at a club party, and he cannot restrain his anger.
Andrea falls in lust with Liar the moment he walks into her massage studio. She senses Liar restraining himself around her, but she’s determined to go after the man she wants. For once, she grabs what she wants from life. Conflict arises when former co-workers implore her to lend them a hand during the holidays. Forced to tell Liar about her past, she uncovers another facet to her alpha biker. 
Little does Andrea know, she’s being used as a pawn in a larger scheme to bring down the Riot MC. Liar believes Andrea deceived him and will not be betrayed twice. The perceived deception tears Liar and Andrea apart while also forcing a rift between the Riot MC brothers.
Liar discovers he was wrong, and struggles between guarding his heart and asserting his love for her. Will he be able to claim her as his own?
I bolted up from my seat. “You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. Hell, what we shared was…”
No way could I admit that he was the best I ever had and the best I ever would have. That seemed like too much of an ego stroke to a man like him, and with his very mixed signals, I wasn’t about to give him that stroke. My prior experiences with men hadn’t been the best, so I was reticent for that reason as well. I couldn’t put my feelings about last night out there only to have him take advantage of me. Then he’d be no different than the many men in my past who took my giving and caring nature and used it to their benefit. Rarely did they reciprocate those caring or giving feelings. My thoughts were interrupted by Liar.
“Pretty damn great. What we shared was great, but I’m telling you, no more pullin’ shit to get me to give you what you want. I won’t be led around by my dick. Yesterday excluded, obviously.”
If it hadn’t been for Jackie, I would have been supremely offended by his remark. However, Jackie had told me plenty about the many issues facing the various brothers of the Riot MC, and I knew that a few of them had a tendency to be influenced too much by their libidos. It would seem the only downside to that would be for those men, but there was a downside for strong women, too. These men viewed women who were aggressive sexually as women who were insistent to lead them around by their cocks. While the knowledge Jackie had imparted to me meant I wasn’t offended, it didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed because I was.
Planting my hands on my desk, I leaned toward him. “You have some nerve assuming shit like that about me. I have no damn desire to do that to you. It was clear you had some cockamamie reason for keeping your distance, and I didn’t agree.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t get pissed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, is there anything I can do? First, you tell me not to get clingy, now I’m not supposed to come on to you or even get pissed with you. I think the woman you’re looking for has the last name of Stepford,” I said in a saccharine sweet voice.
Liar didn’t roll his eyes, but he did close them. “Fuck me. She ain’t just a pain in the ass, but a supreme smart-ass to boot.”
“I am standin’ right here, man. No need to refer to me in the third person or do you refer to yourself that way too?”
That wasn’t only a not very nice thing to say, it was apparently the wrong thing to say. Slowly, Liar stalked around my desk. He invaded my personal space and tilted my chin up to look at him. His eyes slayed me. Angry, hard, bright, or even dull, they were gorgeous, and right now they were hungry with a dash of irritation. “You need to keep that shit in check.”
I pressed my lips together, but I couldn’t hold it back. “That another order?”

 

His eyes bulged, and then his mouth took mine in a rough kiss. It was hungry, it was angry, and it was delicious. I almost thought he could give me all the so-called orders and demands he wanted to; if disobeying him resulted in kisses like this, then my disobedience was going to be a ton of fun.
   
Karen Renee is the author of the Riot MC Series. She has wanted to be a writer from a very early age, and she’s finally bringing that dream to life. She has worked in advertising, banking, and local television media research. She is a proud wife and mother, and a Jacksonville native. When she’s not at the soccer field or cooking, you can find her at her local library, the grocery store, in her car jamming out to some tunes, or hibernating while she writes and/or reads books.

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Climbing Fear

Blurb

A Coalcliff Stud novel—His beloved home is under threat, and with it the beautiful, haunted woman he’s never been able to forget …

X-Treme TV sports star Reid Stratton has everything—until his best friend falls to his death on a climb while shooting their show. In the fierce media fallout, Reid begins to question everything about himself. Crippled by a new fear of climbing, Reid returns to CoalCliff Stud, his family’s horse farm, to recover.

Single mother Natalia Robinson is determined to start afresh, away from the shadow of her past. A job at CoalCliff Stud where she lived as a child is the perfect opportunity to live the quiet life she always wanted. But she is unprepared to see Reid, and is even more unprepared for the passion that still burns between them.

But after a series of menacing events threaten the new home she is trying to build, Nat realises that Reid is the only person she can rely on to keep her and her daughter safe. Together, Reid and Nat must face the pasts that haunt them if they are to survive the present and forge a future of hope.

 

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Excerpt

‘Right. Here goes nothing.’ Or something. Reid really hoped it was something.

He dipped his hands into his chalk bag, wiping the chalk over them, shaking off the excess then stepped up to the rock face and took a deep breath. His lungs filled with the scent of dirt and lichen and the sharp scents of the eucalypts that gave the Blue Mountains their moniker. In the distance a bird cawed, the sound echoing and lonely. He couldn’t take any notice, must concentrate on the wall of rock before him.

Heart pounding, he rolled his shoulders and tried to ignore the perspiration trickling down his forehead, his back. His palms itched. This was the moment of truth. His moment of truth.

He should probably have got Steve and the production crew involved in this climb, to capture his big comeback for posterity—and the ratings it would undoubtedly bring—but he’d wanted to do this in private. It seemed right somehow that his first climb after the accident wasn’t in front of the cameras. The first time ever he hadn’t wanted to show off for the world. He could just imagine what Luke would have said about that.

But then, Luke couldn’t say anything. He was dead.

He shuddered, a cold sweat prickling his skin. Don’t think of that. Think of the climb. Only the climb.

Only the climb. It had been their mantra and had served him well through championships and their TV show, but now the words hung empty.

Race you to the top. The echo of Luke’s voice rang in his ears. He shook his head and looked up at the wall of rock in front of him. He’d done this climb at Echo Point many times before, the view from the top of the famous sandstone plateau one you could breathe into your soul and keep with you forever.

The line he’d chosen wasn’t a difficult climb—bloody easy compared to what he’d done before—but a good solid one to cut his teeth on. What he and Luke had become famous for. And if he was to get their TV show up and going again, do the charity climb in Luke’s name that he and Steve planned on the soaring pristine lines of the Gorge at Mt Buffalo—Luke’s favourite place to climb and the first place they’d ever filmed themselves climbing to post online—he needed to do this.

‘Right.’ He clapped his hands together, chalk blooming up, making his nose twitch. ‘One grip at a time.’ He stepped to the rock face, reached, took the first hold, fingers gripping over the small ridge of rock and pulled up. He settled his feet into grooves in the striations of the sandstone—only five reach holds, none of them difficult, before he would position the first cam to clip the lead rope to. He would normally free climb this section, but nerves had him needing to anchor the rope. It was a bit of a stupid thing to do without a partner, but given what happened the last time he climbed with one …

He swallowed hard. He’d checked his rope, the cams and carabiners a hundred times before getting here and again once here. They were safe. Nothing would break. He was good. He needed this. He reached for the next hold, gripped, found a foot hold, pushed up grabbed the next grip. Easy. There was no reason for his heart to be a thunder of hooves in his chest. For his breath to be coming in short-sharp gasps, razoring his throat, as if he’d just run the London Marathon. No reason for sweat to be dripping off him. Or for the ghost pain to be driving through his shoulder like an ice spike. His shoulder was healed and aside from the pull of the scar tissue, it shouldn’t be hurting. It was strong. He’d worked hard to make it strong again. Why else had he done that if not to get back to this?

Push through, Stratton. Eye on the prize. Think of the climb. We can do this.

He blinked the sweat out of his eyes, rubbing his face against his shoulder before he pushed up for the next grip. Two more and he’d reach the fissure he could push the cam into and create his anchor.

He settled his toes firmly in the thin ridge of rock, feeling the dig of the sharp stone through his thin, flexible rock climbing shoes, before reaching up again. His fingers found purchase on a little jut of weathered stone. He pulled up.

Rock crumbled through his fingers. He began to slip. He made a desperate grab for a nearby small ridge in the rock, but his foot slipped. For a moment, he hung, scrabbling at the rock, trying to find the holds he’d found before, but it was as if the rock face had become a sheet of marble, slippery and smooth. He could find nothing. Nothing. His shoulder was screaming, the pain spiking through him. His fingers were slipping. He couldn’t hold on. He was going to fall. Going to fall.

 

Author Bio

Leisl is a tall red head with an overly large imagination. As a child, she identified strongly with Anne of Green Gables. A voracious reader and a born performer, it came as no surprise to anyone when she did a double major in English Literature and Drama for her BA, then went on to a career as an actor, singer and dancer, as well as script writer, stage manager and musical director for cabaret and theatre restaurants (one of which she co-owned and ran for six years).

 

After starting a family Leisl stopped performing and instead, began writing the stories that had been plaguing her dreams. Leisl’s stories have won and placed in many competitions in Australia and the US, including the STALI, Golden Opportunities, Heart of the West, Linda Howard Award of Excellence, Touch of Magic and many others.

 

Leisl lives in the leafy suburbs of Melbourne with her two beautiful boys, lovely hubby, overly spunky dogs, Buffy and Skye, and likes to spend time with family and friends. She is addicted to the Syfy channel, and her shelves are full of fantasy and paranormal books and scifi DVDs. She sometimes sings in a choir, has worked as a swim teacher, loves to ski, can talk the hind leg off a donkey and has been President of Romance Writers of Australia from 2014-2017.

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Other Books by this Author

My paranormal romance Pack Bound series – Pack Bound, Moon Bound, Shifter Bound and Wolf Bound are available to order on Amazon Here, iBooks Here, Google Play Here, Kobo Here and at all other good ebook sellers.

My romantic rural suspense, Dangerous Echoes, Book 1 in the Echo Springs Series is available as an ebook at: iBooks, Google Play, Kobo, Amazon AU. Or you can buy the four book series, Echo Springs in paperback at Big W, Kmart and online at Angus&Robertson, Booktopia, The Nile, Boomerang Books, Dymocks

 

 

 

Child of Prophecy

Title: Child of Prophecy
Series: Divide Series #1
Author: T.E. Bradford
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: August 31, 2018

 

 
In a world where magic still exists and power rules, a dire prophecy heralds a child born with all three factors of magic, foretold to bring about the destruction of every world unless life’s blood is spilled. When a hunter crosses the Divide to retrieve the child of prophecy, fifteen-year-old Nova Hawthorne is the target.
 
Armed only with a magic she doesn’t understand and the synesthesia no one else does, Nova must race to stop prophecy from unfolding, find a father she’s never met, and save everyone she loves before time runs out.
 
Add’l Info: The main character (Nova) is a teenage girl with Synesthesia – a condition that crosses the senses (so one might see sounds, or taste colors). The hero (Quentin) is in a wheelchair after suffering from Triple-E after being bitten by a mosquito. The book/series also deals with bullying and self-acceptance.

Nova had always seen sounds, represented in shapes and colors in the air. That’s what synesthesia was. The doctors had explained it as a type of cross-wiring somewhere in her brain, allowing different senses to overlap or change roles. They’d made it sound like no big deal, but she didn’t have to go to school with the doctors. She did have to go to school with kids who had no idea what she meant when she told them their voice looked sharp or purple. She’d made the mistake of thinking she was normal. That she belonged. She’d made the mistake of letting people know who and what she was.

 

The darkness shifted to reveal a man’s face inside a black hood. His eyes glittered. Menace radiated from them. The shadow shifted again, and a fold rose, a pale arm sheathed inside. The lamp light reflected along the surface of something gripped in a tight fist. Nova’s scream erupted from deep in her chest, sending shards of red, yellow, and white in every direction. They crashed against the walls like waves.

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Seeing Angels

Title: Seeing Angels
Author: Harmony Lawson
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance/Fantasy
Publication Date: April 19, 2019
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
Camille Harper sees angels all around. They watch her. She is not sure why she was born with this ability but believes the knowledge will present itself in due time.
When she witnesses a confrontation between a beautiful angel and a dark winged creature, the strange event signals the end of her world.
Then she meets Jason and they enter an exciting but forbidden relationship. Her strange ability complicates things and puts her loved ones in danger. Camille wants a normal life, but changes lead to some apocalyptic event. Can Camille continue Seeing Angels without her life going to Hell?
Harmony Lawson and her family live in Northern California in the beautiful foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. She is a self-published author and self-taught in drawing, painting, and writing. She is fascinated by angels, Nephilim, and fallen angels. She incorporates her research into her fictional stories.
While she has endured many hardships in life, she believes she learns something new from her experiences. Life has its ups and downs, trials and tribulations, and Heaven and Hell. She believes the bad times are a test to prove a person’s worth. Her books reflect on that concept. Writing also helps her heal from past traumas. In the meantime, she cares for her family, loves her pugs, and remains silly through all that life throws at her. Her goal is to be an introverted hobbit.

Author Links: 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HDwBWS
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/harmony-lawson

I give him a quick peck on the cheek and open the car door. “See you tomorrow,” I say. He can relax and go home.
“I’ll pick you up.” His touch is soft and electrifying, making my core shiver and pulse race. I’m halfway out of the car when he reaches out to grasp my hand and I stop to gaze at him. His eyes are so full of emotion and he’s struggling with something internal. When our eyes connect, I move closer to him and touch the side of his face. He closes his eyes and I lean in to brush my lips against his.
His eyes flash open when I pull away. Illuminated passion flares in his eyes, making his hazel tone brighter. His hand rubs the side of my right shoulder as he turns to face me. My left arm goes around his neck as he pulls me in. His chest is hard against mine as our lips dance in a heated kiss that has the promise of forever etched within. I want my soul to melt with his. My breath mingles with his and my pulse is high. Then the kiss slows and we both know this needs to slow down.
“Have a good evening. Again, happy birthday. Thanks for inviting me.” He rests his forehead against mine as our breathing is fast like we ran a mile.
“You’re welcome and thank you.” Our hands gently pull apart as I climb out of the car and watch as he drives away.

Tethered

Title: Tethered
Author: Carlyle Labuschagne
Genre: Supernatural Suspense
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
A girl tethered to a serial killer by heart leads FBI to the undiscovered bodies of The Devil’s breath victims.
Tethered follows two sisters, Willow and Raine Viviers alongside two rogue FBI brothers on what seems like an impossible task to solving a dead end case. With no leads, and a corrupt government cover up, their time is running out to stop the spread of a Serial Killer Cult before another victim is claimed.
But they have a secret weapon…
Willow is a young adult who has just undergone a heart transplant who’s trauma has changed her, she’s gained a strange supernatural gift – she can see into the heart of the Devil’s Breath Killer. She not only feels the serial killer’s urges, knows his thoughts, but somehow gets visions through the eyes of his victims too.
These visions are chaotic, menacing and evil, and Willow can hardly make sense of her own reality without going insane. How will she decipher and hone in her special abilities in time to save a missing agent and stop another Devil’s Breath Killing.
 
Carlyle is a USA Today bestselling author from South Africa, who has won an award for her SF fantasy series the Broken Trilogy. This series broke ground not only in her country but in many where the genre of SF is concerned. Mixing African tales into worlds most of her readers describe as highly imaginative and unique. Her Dystopian Romance book, Dead of Night is a multi-award nominated tale set in a world where love is outlawed, described by readers as breathing new life into the genre.
Her goal as an author is to touch people’s lives, and help others love their differences and one another by delivering strong messages of faith, love and hope within each world she writes about. She loves creating villains you have a hate, love relationship with and always explores imperfection as a strength in her heroes and supporting characters.
“I love to swim, fight for the trees, and am a food lover who is driven by my passion for life. I dream that one day my stories will change the lives of countless teenagers and have them obsess over the world literacy can offer them instead of worrying about fitting in. Never sacrifice who you are, it’s in the dark times that the light comes to life.”
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Chapter 8
Willow was told that at some time during the night, she had sleepwalked her way out of her room and down a series of corridors, managing to slip into the service elevator undetected and find her way into the vast basement area a floor below the morgue. She’d traveled so far down underground that she’d been discovered in the maintenance section; the area where medical waste was stored until pickup.
Back in her room and safely in her hospital bed, Willow fought the tendrils of sleep as she sat surrounded by her sketches. Her hands and fingers moved of their own accord. Lines, curves, and soft edges blurred together to form an outline of the face that haunted her. She grabbed another piece of paper and started another sketch; her soul bleeding out onto the paper in shades of gray and black, soft and hard edges, smudged, defined curves and lines forming a heart surrounded by flowers captured inside a birdcage made of rib bones.
Nurse Benson entered with a tray of hot soup. “Willow? I thought you should eat before you sleep,” she said in her ever calming voice.
Willow half smiled back at her and pulled the blankets over the sketches as if ashamed of the secret she didn’t quite understand.
“I’m okay, thank you, Bertha.”
Willow and Nurse Benson had become good companions in the last three weeks. Bertha was an older lady, who had no children of her own. Her husband had passed almost four years ago. Taking care of Willow was her latest purpose in life. Even after her shift ended Bertha came to spend time with Willow every lunchtime, bringing homemade cookies and sometimes bread with her. Willow hadn’t the heart to tell her that her baking was awful. And Bertha’s friendship was a welcome reprieve from the boredom of the endless days in hospital.
“Why are you really here, Bertha? Willow asked as the nurse stood with an expression of someone keeping a secret they were looking to relieve themselves of.
“I’m that obvious, huh?”
She placed the soup on the eating tray and wheeled it over to Willow.
Willow smiled, and adjusted her position on the bed as the delicious smelling soup got wheeled her way.
“I feel awful that I didn’t notice you were gone last night,” Bertha said, unpacking a spoon wrapped in a napkin from her purse.
“It’s not your fault,” Willow took a deep smell of the soup and her stomach growled.
“My child, in your condition you could have died! I feel terrible. Your immune system…”
Willow interrupted her. “Bertha, if heart failure couldn’t take me out, what makes you think anything else could?” She grinned sheepishly as she dipped into her soup.
Bertha gave a tight smile.
“I’m not sure what happened,” Willow said between spoonfuls. The soup was as almost as delicious as it had smelled.
Bertha sat down on the edge of her bed. “It’s not the first time you’ve left your room like that,” she began.
Willow’s eyes narrowed on Nurse Benson, the spoon suspended midair. “You never said anything before. I don’t have a record of sleepwalking…?”
Nurse Benson took a napkin from her Mary Poppins like bag and tucked it in the collar of Willow’s gown.
“You need to slow your words, child. You know that accent of yours can be hard to understand.” She sat back with her hands in her lap.
She looked at Willow, “Don’t worry yourself about the sleepwalking, it will blow over. A heart transplant is a serious trauma to the body and mind child.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Stranger things have happened to heart recipients before.”
Willow arched her eyebrow in question.
“How about I bring you some articles about it?” Bertha offered.
“Ja, Sure.”
She took another spoonful of soup. Her big green eyes searching out the nurse’s. It wasn’t the best soup she’d tasted, but it was made with love, and that in itself made each spoonful feel like it was calming from the inside. Nurse Benson took her chart from the foot of the bed, noticing the shift-nurse had given her a mild sedative. She looked up and smiled at Willow.
They fell quiet as the sounds of the slow beeping machines coming from other rooms filled the space. Nurse Benson shifted uncomfortably on the bed, not sure if she should tell Willow that she was concerned about her symptoms after all. Instead, she decided to give the girl the rest she needed. The sooner she got out of the hospital the better for everyone involved in Willow’s transplant. As sad as it was to see her go, it was a case of moving on and forgetting.
Standing from the bed, she sighed and said, “You should get some rest,”
Adjusting the strap of her purse. “You need your sleep.”
She returned to clasping her hands before her, reminding Willow of a sweet old church lady, which she knew she wasn’t. She’d seen bertha throw enough tantrums, often swearing at the staff.
Willow watched after Bertha as she made for the door.
“I don’t want to sleep. What if it happens again?” she asked Bertha.
Dropping her eyes as she felt the shame of sounding like a frightened child; the last thing she wanted when her recovery was about finally becoming an abled adult.
Bertha stopped at the threshold and smiled warmly.
“Do you need me to stay?” she asked, almost as if she’d been expecting it.
“I won’t let you wander off again, child.”
Willow felt pathetic, she shrugged and answered shyly, “Ja, you can’t guard me all the time…”
“Oh. Yes. I. Sure. Can.” Bertha chucked her purse across the room where it landed perfectly on the sofa-chair.
Willow gave a soft chuckle, almost choking on the soup.
Nurse Benson walked over to Willow, hitting her on her back, “Easy child, breathe.”
Willow gasped, taking in a breath before the laughter erupted again. Nurse Benson removed the soup from her tray.
“Okay, I think your meds have taken effect.”
“This is me, happy, funny me.”
Bertha wiped her bangs from her face and smiled down at Willow. “If I’d ever had a daughter, I’d have liked her to be just like you.”
Willow closed her eyes for a moment, feeling a swell in her throat.
“We’d make an odd combo, you and me.”
“Why’s that?” Bertha stared at her through her lashes.
Willow fell back into her pillows. “Well, I don’t really eat baked goods, and you seem to bake, like, a lot. And well I just keep eating them because…” she blushed at her confession.
The medication had taken hold and her thoughts were suddenly outspoken and as if coming from someone else.
Nurse Benson stifled a laugh. “I wondered when you would actually say something.”
“You sabotaged my cookies intentionally then?” Willow’s tongue was starting to drag.
She blinked, trying to push away the fog creeping over her.
“Stay with me please?” she pleaded, her eyes finally drooping.
Bertha took her hand.
“I will. You don’t have to be scared.”
“Okay.” Willow’s eyes shut as the drowsiness took over.
“Oh, and please check in on Tyler in room…” she said, lids still closed.
“I know. You do not have to worry about him. I’ll let him know you’ll visit him soon.”
Willow tried to put up one last fight against the sleep, having this overwhelming feeling, as if she might never wake up the same again. First she had to say one more thing to Bertha, just in case she didn’t make it back to reality.
“Bertha,” was all she got out.
What she had wanted to tell her was, how scared she had been about what she’d seen and felt in that basement. But she’d slipped into sleep too soon with the ominous feeling pursuing her. Singed behind her lids was the non-distinct face that stood out in the shadows of that basement. A face that only she had seen – with it the overly encroaching feeling, like one she’d never experienced before. The haunting face was somehow part of her now.

Misadventures With My Ex

Can the ex who once broke her heart seduce her into happily ever after?

Once, Eryn Hope fell fast and incurably for Weston Quaid. And he seemed to adore her too—until she learned their love was built on lies when he walked out on their wedding day.

Three years later, West has finally won control of his family empire and fortune, but it cost him Eryn—something he regrets every day. When business forces him to return to her life and temporarily shut down her livelihood, of course she’s furious. But their chemistry is still beyond combustible. So he makes her a proposition: he’ll take care of her until her bistro reopens…if she becomes his mistress. Her mind screams no, but her body whimpers yes, yes, yes.

As soon as West has her back in his bed, their passion burns hotter than ever. So do his feelings. But can he and Eryn really recapture the love they shared? And when their bargain ends, will he be the one shattered this time or will they finally come together forever?

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“You’re supposed to groom the way I want you to. It’s in the contract.”

That raises my alarm. “It’s not!”

“Oh, it is. Paragraph three, subparagraph six, clause B. You’re to be presentable to my satisfaction.”

“When we go out.” I’m positive that’s what I read. Well, almost…

West shakes his head. “I wrote three-quarters of it myself. I know exactly what it says.”

“You wrote most of that?”

He nods. “After I went home, I managed to finish my last semester of college at Columbia, then attended law school. While working as Quaid’s CEO.”

I blink. “You went to law school?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about the last three years.”

“Whose fault is that?”

His face shutters closed as he reaches into his jeans for his cell. “I’m done arguing about this.”

With a puzzled frown, I watch as he sends a quick text. Almost immediately, he receives a reply. Then he smiles and tosses the device onto the nearest nightstand. “In the spa downstairs, Leona will clear up that landing strip at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

On one level, it’s heady that he cares about the state of my flesh he intends to use. On the other hand, I don’t understand his insistence to have me bare. “Why are you trying so damn hard to control everything, even the state of my pubic hair?”

“Because I want back the sexual compatibility we once had. I want the naked dinners and the lazy Sunday afternoons. I want the long, hot nights of lovemaking. I want—” He lets out a rough breath and shakes his head. “I want your pussy bare.”

That’s not the whole truth. I know West’s expressions too well. Oh, he wants to recreate something about our past. The question is why? And how much? But I’m guessing it’s not just the sex. Holy cow, is he looking to make me his girlfriend? His “fiancée” again? Maybe…but now that I’m thinking about it, two and two aren’t adding up.

Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than sixty novels. For nearly twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.

Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.

Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

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Crimson Cove Mysteries

 Title: Crimson Cove Mysteries
Author: Tara Brown
Genre: YA romance, horror, mystery, and thriller
Blurb:
Can you keep a secret?
When a summer party turns into a crime scene, five girls are forced to keep the biggest secret of all.
One of them is a murderer, and only the killer knows who.
One corpse.
Five suspects.
And all six girls are from the wealthiest families in Crimson Cove.
Lindsey
Lainey
Sierra
Sage
Marguerite
Rachel
In order to prove their innocence, they must solve the crime.
But everyone in Crimson Cove has secrets.
The girls just need to figure out which ones are worth dying for.
Before it’s too late.
Welcome to Crimson Cove.
“Mix together the best aspects of PRETTY LITTLE LIARS & GOSSIP GIRL then add in Gillian Flynn psychological twists and you get Crimson Cove”
“Murder. Mystery. Mayhem. Crimson Cove has devilishly sharp twists and turns that will leave you dying—for more.”
Lovers of We Were Liars, Riverdale, and Gossip Girl need to get lost in this thriller with Hitchcockian twists. The completed series boxset is set against the backdrop of Crimson Cove, a dysfunctional yet mesmerizing community filled with wealthy elite, shady pasts, and ulterior motives.
The entire Crimson Cove Mystery is in this box set, all 5 volumes
Needless to say, mine saved me. After it got me into trouble first, that is. That’s the problem with a vivid imagination, all the lies you tell.
I am happily married with two daughters.
I have two giant dogs, two savage cats, and a penchant for a glass of red.
Also, I drag my bread through the sauce. I can’t help myself, bread is life.
According to my age, I am meant to be a responsible adult, but it isn’t going well at all. I would still head off to Hogwarts tomorrow and I suspect there isn’t a single wardrobe I haven’t crept into, hoping to find the door to Narnia. And don’t even get me started on the King’s Road, I get lost.
Fortunately, I am an international bestseller so I have wormed my way into a quirky or eccentric category.
Thank God for that.
I am represented by Natalie Lakosil from the Bradford Literary Agency and am published traditionally with Montlake Romance.
Excerpt from Second Nature: 
 

Halloween Scream
October 31, 2015
Sierra
The noise of the creaking stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears. Someone had followed us here.
“Jake,” I whispered, hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. I lifted one leg after the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could tiptoe through the half-constructed mansion without making noise.
Jake didn’t answer, but the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered.
The scary movie marathon we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck. Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were standing still, listening.
Either way, I had a terrible feeling this wasn’t a game.
That meant one thing: Jake was injured or hiding.
And I was alone.
My heart raced, my eyes burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my mouth was as dry as a mouthful of popcorn.
The floor creaked.
I froze.
“Sierra,” someone whispered into the dark.
My skin crawled when I realized it wasn’t Jake. It wasn’t his whisper. I’d heard that enough times, always in the dark, to know it wasn’t him.
“Sierra, don’t be scared.” It sounded like something it couldn’t be, but I didn’t believe. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck and jump down onto the sandy beach.
What had the girls in the horror movies done wrong? What could I avoid? My mind raced, remembering the runners always got caught. They always got stabbed. Usually in the back. The thought of it made my skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice.
The hiders always got caught. They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places.
“Sierra, I won’t hurt you if you come to me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my head.
A dog barked, making me jump and open my eyes. The sound was joined by the creaking of the floorboards again.
With gentle breaths and controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors.
The massive back deck was through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The moon offered light, enough to make shadows move with me.
I hurried to an alcove I assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French doors. If I could make it to them, I was free.
If only I had my cell phone, I could call the police or Jake or Vincent. Someone would come and help me. Even Ashton might answer.
But that wasn’t an option. I scolded myself for my weakness in me and forced my focus to be on the doors. They were my answer. They were my hope.
As I exhaled and plotted my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor creaked in the hallway behind me.
It was now or never.
Live or die.
I took one more breath and pushed off from the wall…