Friday, March 1, 2019

Release Blitz/#Giveaway : Make Me Believe by Tarina Deaton







Title: Make Me Believe

Jilted: The Bride

Series: Jilted Duet #1
Author: Tarina Deaton
Genre: Second Chance Contemporary Romance

 Release Date: March 1, 2019





Blurb


It was always the two of them. Rowan and Luke. Luke and Rowan. Until it
wasn’t.

He walked out to follow his dreams. She eventually moved on without him
and learned to believe again in the possibility of happily ever after. Until
Luke walked back in—in a big, viral social media, way.

Luke learned dreams were hollow without someone to share them with. Now
he’ll do anything to make Rowan believe she is the most important thing in the
world to him—more important than the fame and the fans.

Jilted and gun-shy, Rowan isn’t sure she has it in her to trust again.
The bright lights of Music City create deep shadows where secrets and lies
thrive and believing in someone might be the hardest thing she’s ever had to
do. 









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Excerpt

The minister glanced between them. In a low voice he asked,
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” they both said.
He raised his voice so the congregation could her him.
“Michael and Rowan, marriage is a promise between two people to love, trust,
and honor each other. It takes trust to know in your hearts you only want the
best for each other. It takes—”
A commotion at the back of the chapel stopped the minister
from telling them what else it took.
“Sir, you can’t go in. There’s a wedding in progress!”
She recognized their wedding planner Stephanie’s voice.
“I know. I’m here to stop it.”
Rowan’s heart thumped in her chest and her fingers tingled
from the flow of adrenaline suddenly coursing through her. She squeezed her
eyes closed. “Please God, no,” she whispered.    






Author Bio


Tarina is
an award winning author who has spent her entire life in and around the
military — first as a dependent and then as an enlisted Air Force Member. Her
debut novel, Stitched Up Heart, released in September 2016. She draws heavily
from her own military experience when crafting stories and characters.



Tarina is still active duty and a single mom of six-year-old twins. She can be
found in random places around the world while she tries to get her twins
interested in “another castle”.  Her
favorite hobby is sleep. She has delusions of retiring from the military and
being a stay-at-home mom.



Author Links






Release Blitz : Please Me by Lola StVil








Title: Please Me

Series: Dirty Ever After #2
Author: Lola StVil
Genre: Dark Alpha Standalone

Release Date: March 1, 2019





Blurb


I was a soldier on
leave when we meet at a bar, and I rescued her from some asshole who tried to
grab her. She shouldn’t have been there—she was just 19. She was innocent. She
was running away from a drunken father and a house that never felt like a home.
She wanted me to claim her but she was more than a one-night stand to me. So I
vowed to do right by her. I waited for her and then I proposed. My unit was
called back before I could truly make her mine. It’s been a year since I felt
her touch. But now I’m back and I have only one mission: Make my wife come hard
and as often as possible.







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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE


MAC


I am sitting at the bar drinking a slightly too warm bottle of beer. Even though the beer isn’t ice cold, it tastes like perfection. Being out in the middle of nowhere on a special ops assignment will definitely make you appreciate the little things in life. Even when they’re not as good as you remember them to be.
It’s kind of like Mission Beach. In my head, I remembered it differently than what it actually is. I remembered it as home, not real home, but somewhere I had happy memories. My mom used to bring me here every summer for a week, and some of my happiest memories were here. But can a place be home when you’re there all alone? Can it be home for Mac Kramer when no one here even knows his name?
Maybe not. The place is like a breeding ground for surfers, tourists, and students. I reckon I’ll be leaving here pretty soon even if I’m not called back to active duty before my time in the military is up.
I sigh loudly and turn on my barstool and scan the crowd. I hear a musical laugh, and my eyes are instantly drawn to the owner of that laugh. My cock stiffens in my jeans just looking at her. If all of the girls in Mission Beach were like her, I’d never ever want to leave the place. She has long blonde hair that hangs down her back in beach-ready waves. Sun-bleached streaks shine in the light. She’s clearly into surfing, judging by the short shorts and vest top she wears and the way the muscles in her fucking awesome legs are so toned. Her whole body is tanned, and I wonder where the tan lines are.
It’s not something to wonder in a public place because I instantly see myself tearing off that little top and throwing it away, taking in her breasts and pink nipples. I see myself pushing her shorts down and fucking her until she’s screaming my name. My cock gets harder, reminding me I’m in the middle of a bar. I pull at my shirt, covering my lap with it. 
The girl looks across the room, and for a second, our eyes meet. I feel a jolt of lust run through me as I look into her eyes. They are the blue of tropical seas, and they have a certain twinkle in them that tells me she’s a little bit naughty. I bet she fucking is. And if she isn’t, I could soon show her exactly how to break the rules.
She smiles at me, and I nod in her direction, forcing my eyes from her body. Now she’s seen me looking at her, I can’t get caught again. She’ll think I’m some sort of pervert. For her, I could be. I could be anything she wanted me to be and then some.
I try to tell myself it’s because I haven’t had a woman in the eight months I’ve been away, but I know it’s not that. There’s something about the girl. Something mesmerizing. Something that tells me she’s exactly what I need to get myself out of this funk and give my life some sort of purpose outside of the military.
I signed up to the military on my eighteenth birthday. Anything to get out of that foster home. My mom raised me alone until I was fifteen and the big C took her. And then I went into the system. I ended up being placed with a family fairly quickly, and I stayed there until I was old enough to leave. It wasn’t that they were mean or abusive. They were the opposite. Warm and kind. They made me feel welcome, loved even, and I am so grateful to them for that. But it was hard to stay there and not love them back. And anytime I felt the slightest hint of love for them, I felt such terrible guilt. My mom was gone, and here I was moving on. Yeah, I know it’s crazy and not what my mom would have wanted, but I couldn’t help feeling it. Maybe I should have had therapy. I definitely should have had therapy.
My eyes go back to Blondie, and I reckon those long legs of hers wrapped tightly around my waist while I claim her pussy would be all the therapy I’d need. She’d sure as hell make me forget everything except her slender body and pert breasts. I’d be willing to bet that her pussy would be tight enough to squeeze my cock to within an inch of its life.
She’s turned away from me now, and I watch her for a minute longer. She’s sitting at a small table tucked away in the back of the bar. She should be on the fucking stage, not hiding herself away like that. She seems to be alone, the girl she was laughing with a moment ago gone. She runs her hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. I feel another twitch from my cock. I want my hands in her hair. I want to grab handfuls of it, pull it, force her to her knees where she’ll suck me dry. And then I want to ruin her. To fuck her so hard and for so long she won’t know which way is up when I’m done with her.
I debate going over there and asking to join her. I mean why not, right? She’s alone, I’m alone. We could share a drink or two, maybe a laugh, and then I could take her home and show her what that body of hers can really do.
Just as I’m getting off my stool, a man approaches her and sits down at her table. He shrugs apologetically, and she laughs. Fucking bastard. I don’t know where he’s been or why, but he left her sitting alone for far too fucking long. If I had been with her, whatever the fuck it was he was doing could have waited. She would have been more important than going to the bathroom or taking a call.
The level of animosity I feel toward the man is nothing compared to the sharp, icy fingers of jealousy that stab at me as I watch him reach out and touch her arm as they talk. How the fuck can I be jealous of someone I’ve never even spoke to? I don’t know, but I am.
I turn back to the bar. I don’t need to watch this any longer. I release my grip on my bottle when I realize I’m holding it tightly enough that it’s about to shatter in my hand. I down the rest of the beer and wave to the bartender for another one.
He obliges, and I thank him and take a long drink. This one is icy cold, much better than the first one, and I would be wholly satisfied now if it wasn’t for the fact I can hear her laughing. The bastard is making her laugh. It should be me. Is it her boyfriend? Husband? Just someone who took a chance on talking to a beautiful woman quicker than I did?
Whatever he is, the thought of him going home with her, holding her, kissing her, and touching her pussy fills me with rage. I want to claim that sexy mouth as mine. I want to be the one to make her come as I claim her pussy. I want to hear her screaming my name. It should be me, not that fucking Joe Nobody.
As much as I tell myself to let it go, I can’t do it and I find myself turning again, almost subconsciously. I feel a cold, empty feeling in my stomach when I look to her table and she’s gone. She’s gone home with the loser. He’s getting to be with her, and I’m stuck here in a bar alone.
I hear her laugh again and the hole is instantly filled, my heart soaring. I follow the sound with my eyes. She’s on the dance floor with the loser, who has two left feet. He scores higher than I do in that category though. There’s no way in hell I would dance in public. Oh, who am I kidding? If she asked me to, I’d be up there like a shot.
Watching her dance is like slow, agonizing torture for me. She sways her hips, showing off her pert ass. She puts her arms in the air and her vest top rides up just enough to show me a flash of her smooth back before it settles back down. I swallow hard, watching her as she turns and sways and moves to the beat.
The man reaches out and puts his hand on her hip. She twists her body away from him, shrugging off his hand without being completely obvious about it. This gets my attention. He’s not her husband or her boyfriend. His touch is making her uncomfortable. She’s not exactly pushing him away though. Maybe she’s just playing hard to get.
When I first saw the man sitting down, I placed him around thirty, but now I can see he’s closer to my age, twenty-three. He’s not acting his age though. He’s acting like a drunken high school jock as he reaches out for her hip again. She neatly sidesteps him and keeps dancing as though she’s oblivious to his advances.
Her sidestep brings her face-to-face with me, and I quickly take a long drink, hoping she didn’t catch me staring at her. I dare to look back. She’s looking at me, smiling. She caught me all right. I laugh a little as she watches me. She doesn’t seem in the least bit concerned about me watching her. She’s certainly no wallflower, not like that quiet table in the corner implied.
The man she’s with spots her smiling at me, and he gets his body between us. Dick. This time, he doesn’t just try to put his hand on her hip. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his.
Even over the music, I hear her telling him to get off her. I hear the fear in her voice and it sends a flare of anger through me. He ignores her, and my temper flares further. I slam my bottle on the bar and get up off the stool. He’s going to fucking pay for scaring her like that.


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Author Bio


Lola StVil
is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who writes Fantasy in
addition to Contemporary romance. She has written over a dozen books and loves
taking her readers on an emotional roller coaster ride. She is currently living
in California and enjoys staying in touch with her readers.


Author Links

Release Blitz : Possess by Olivia Ryann







Title: Possess

Series: Protect #3
Author: Olivia Ryann
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: March 1, 2019




Blurb


This dark tale of obsession, beauty, and lust is by Wall
Street Journal, USA Today, and Amazon Bestseller Vivian Wood. She writes dark
romance as OLIVIA RYANN.


There is something blooming between my captor and I, hot and
wet and fragile.
Lust. Obsession. Maybe it’s even love.
But there are still secrets that stand between us, looming
large over whatever happiness we might find together.
Dangerous secrets. Things worth killing over.
If I reveal my secret to Dryas, he very well might die to
protect me.
The last thing I want is to confront those that hurt me
without him at my side.
But I might not get a choice, if Dryas has his way…








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Also Available


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Author Bio


Olivia Ryann is the dark romance pen name of Wall Street
Journal, USA Today, and Amazon Top 20 Bestseller Vivian Wood. She loves poetic
phrases and bits of melodic memories. She adores dominant, hard men and soft,
fragile women with backbones made of steel. She wants to put them together as
often as possible, in unconventional ways.



Author Links






Release Blitz/#Giveaway : Flirting with the Frenemy by Pippa Grant







Title: Flirting with the Frenemy
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Sexy Romantic Comedy

 Release Date: March 1, 2019





Blurb


Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play
nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend.
Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet.
Target: Grady Rock. Master Baker. Dimples. Muscles. The
unicorn of fake boyfriends.
Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My
sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my
panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me before my life fell
apart. 
And the man who just scared off that perfect fake boyfriend.
By pretending to be my real boyfriend.
I can roll with this though. What’s the harm in Flirting
with the Frenemy if it helps me get the job done?
Complete my mission and move on.
Or so I thought.
Until Wyatt kisses me again and I start feeling things
I shouldn't.
The thing about weddings...nothing ever goes as planned.

Flirting with the Frenemy is a rollicking fun romantic
comedy featuring a single dad military man, an irritatingly attractive blast
from his past, pirates, cursing parrots, and a wedding gone wild. It stands
alone with no cheating or cliffhangers
.



ADD TO GOODREADS









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Free in Kindle Unlimited












Author Bio

Pippa Grant is a stay-at-home mom and housewife who loves to
escape into sexy, funny stories way more than she likes perpetually cleaning
toothpaste out of sinks and off toilet handles. When she’s not reading,
writing, sleeping, or trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be
productive members of society, she’s fantasizing about chocolate chip cookies.




Books by Pippa Grant





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Giveaway


Saturday, February 23, 2019

Book Blitz : Doug Liberty Presents Bandit the Dancing Raccoon by John L. Sheppard




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Humor
Published: November 2018
Publisher: Paragraph Line Books

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Effete alcoholic Tris Edgar finds a talking raccoon digging through his trash one evening. Tris tells a story of heartbreak, loss and self-defeat, and of his life as an instant celebrity in the internet age. At turns dark and whimsical, Doug Liberty Presents Bandit the Dancing Raccoon is a uncanny fable for the 21st century.



Praise for Doug Liberty Presents Bandit the Dancing Raccoon:

"Sheppard is a hugely imaginative writer, deftly balancing humor, pathos and lyricism." -Self-Publishing Review



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Excerpt


When I went to work the next night, Delores wasn’t there. She was supposed to be there. She left behind a note on the back of an order pad that said she was returning to Zanesville, Ohio, and that I shouldn’t follow her because nothing good could come from my following her to Zanesville. She’d double-underlined and capitalized Zanesville in each instance of its use in the note. She helpfully wrote down the address for what she said was her parents’ place in Zanesville at the bottom of the note.

This is how people get in trouble, you know. Not following directions.

It was an adventure. I took the note, left the restaurant, locked the doors and shoved my key under the front mat. I could have tried to drive my car to Zanesville, but it wouldn’t have made it.

I didn’t have much money. I’m not very good with money. This is a problem of mine going way back. All the way back. And all the way forward, too, to the present day. Ask the raccoon, if you can find him. He didn’t appreciate my situation.

I walked down to the Trailways bus station with the intention of buying a ticket to Zanesville, or maybe Cincinnati or Cleveland. I was unsure concerning the geography part of the adventure. Ohio was north. I knew that much.

At the bus station, a dude wearing a white, bellbottomed jumpsuit with “FATTU” spelled out in golden sequins sparkling on his back and sequined flames sewn into the seams from his armpits to his white ankle boots, hired me to ride shotgun with him from Florida to Ohio. I found him pacing around the bus station near the coin-operated TV sets. I’d been on my way to the ticket counter. I expected him to speak in an Elvis-inspired drawl, but he didn’t. His voice was Midwestern flat. There was no musicality to it whatsoever. He spoke quickly, too. “You want to go to Ohio? Let’s do this. Here’s two hundred dollars.” He handed me $300 in twenties. I counted it in front of him and tried to give back the extra hundred. “You keep it! You keep it! Good job! You’re trustworthy. We have a circle of trust going.”

I was wearing my work uniform. We were quite a pair walking out of the bus station to his waiting car, a mid-1970’s Camaro painted gold, like the car in the Rockford Files, glowing under a streetlight. Or was it a Pontiac Firebird? The engine was running. I could see blue smoke rising out of the tailpipe and up into the humid air. It was the rainy season. Everything was wet—ground, trees, people, air. I flung my straw boater onto a palmetto bush growing at the edge of the lot.

Where did I leave my car? Should I have sold my car? It wasn’t worth the effort to think about the car, so I didn’t.

He produced an glass amber bottle of black beauties. The bottle had been around since the 1970’s, like his car. Maybe he’d found it under the bucket seat. I popped a tablet, he popped four. He told me he was going to dictate his novel to me, and I was going to type it all down. He handed me an Olivetti in a brown leatherette zipped case and a roll of paper from a paper towel dispenser. “This is going to be my masterpiece. Type it all down! I’m the new Kerouac!” The speed made me feel like there were invisible live wires under my skin. I kept shouting, “Woop! Woop!” I typed the guy’s masterpiece while he drove. He had an organist’s keyboard built into the dash, and he played it. Bach fugues, mostly, to accompany his dictated writing. There were pipes in the doors. Every note vibrated through them. 

“Her lips were pillows for my psionic mind.” I remember that line. I don’t remember a lot of the rest of it. Most of it was like that, though.

All the roadsigns that I’d read from my annual trips north were still there somehow (Stuckey’s, See Rock City, etc.).

I typed, and the paper kept getting stuck. The ribbon was on its last legs. The paper tore, so I ripped it and tossed it in the seat behind me. I looked back at some point and there were all these curls of typed-upon paper back there.

“Is it done?” he asked me, riffing on the keyboard. “Is it done? Is it done?”

“Yes,” I told him. “It’s done.”

“Cool,” he said, and drove us off the side of a low bridge in Kentucky, bounding over rocks ten feet down before sloshing nose first into the river below.

“I should have asked for more money,” I muttered as the car splashed down.

“What’s that?!” he shouted.

“Never mind.”

We somehow survived. I rolled down the window, climbed out of the car, swam ashore and looked back. The car was gone. So was the author.


About the Author

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John L. Sheppard, a graduate of the MFA@FLA creative writing program at the University of Florida, is a native of Cleveland, Ohio. He lives in Illinois. He wrote a series of books about the adventures of Audrey Novak.


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Friday, February 22, 2019

Book Blitz : Bullets and Bosses Don’t Have Friends by Toni Crowe



          
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How to Navigate Tough Challenges in the Workplace
The $7 Series, Book 3
Memoir
Published: December 2018
Publisher: Boker

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Are you worried that you're too nice to get ahead? Discover how to play smart in your work place and take your life to the next level in Toni Crowe's continuation of her memoir.

Does your office feel more like a minefield than a place to get things done? Are you confronted by tenacious colleagues and even more challenging situations every workday? With over 30 years of experience, award-winning executive Toni Crowe has climbed the ladder across multiple sectors, from high tech to aerospace. After ascending from the very bottom to the top, she's here to share her experience, strategies, and wisdom for you to realize your own career triumph.

Bullets and Bosses Don't Have Friends teaches you how to assume the serious edge you need to succeed in the corporate world. With the book's honest, compelling look at relationships with peers and bosses alike, you'll discover a pragmatic approach to mastering your trek through management. By reading Crowe's down-to-earth stories, you'll learn how to navigate common challenges in the workplace and conquer them with your own personal style.



In Bullets and Bosses Don’t Have Friends, you’ll discover:



- A behind-the-scenes peek at corporate America that shows you what it’s really like at the top

- Which skills and attitudes you need to scale to the top of the business world

- How to cultivate a relationship with your boss that benefits both of you

- What you can do when confronted with difficult peers so you maintain control

- How you can and should deal with workplace treachery, and much, much more!



Bullets and Bosses Don’t Have Friends is a series of true stories from Toni Crowe’s life in the corporate world, each with a practical lesson and a set of exercises you can apply to your own career. If you like the personal approach of a mentor, tales of hard-won success, and real-world advice from a CEO with an amazing record of achievement, then you’ll love Toni Crowe’s second installment in the four-part My Journey from a Lady of the Night to the Lady of the Boardroom memoir!




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About the Author

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Toni Crowe is an award-winning and accomplished executive with 30 years of experience as a CEO/President, Vice-President, Director, Engineer, and Manager across multiple sectors including high tech, consumer and nuclear sensors, Aerospace, film production, and glass. She has extensive experience in P&L, Manufacturing, Operations Management, and Lean.  She has participated in several mergers and acquisitions.  Toni is currently the President and CEO of Just One: her company which is dedicated to changing lives, one life at a time.


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