Monday, August 31, 2015

YOU'RE IT: A TAG NOVELLA by SHAR J. RYAN --> RELEASE DAY LAUNCH









Our little family has been together for four years, and life has been good, considering my track record. But In the blink of an eye, my ease was suddenly gone when I heard his terrifying words. I knew from the look on Tango’s face and the way he avoided my gaze—all hell was about to break loose. Now it seems like the dangers I spent years desperately avoiding are starting to threaten my happily ever after.



Maybe it’s because I let my guard down. Or maybe it’s because I was starting to trust again. But I can’t even trust the people closest to me, and now I remember why.



Screw with me, that’s one thing. Screw with my family, and we’ve got a problem…







Shari J. Ryan is an Amazon Top 100 Bestselling author, a Barnes & Noble Top 10 Bestselling author, and an iBookstore #1 Bestselling author. She hails from Central Massachusetts where she lives with her husband and two lively little boys. Shari has always had an active imagination and enjoys losing herself in the fictional worlds she creates.



When Shari isn’t writing, she can usually be found cleaning toys up off the floor.



To learn more, visit her at, www.sharijryan.com.



INDECISION by ELISABETH GRACE --> RELEASE DAY LAUNCH, EXCERPT & GIVEAWAY

indecision-rd

Do you love a man in uniform? Us too - and boy, has Elisabeth Grace supplied one for us! Jamie is sweet in the streets and sizzling in the sheets, and you most definitely want to get your hands on him in INDECISION, which is available now!

 

Indecision - Ebook Small


About INDECISION

Jackie Davenport will try anything once, especially in the bedroom. Anything except falling in love. She lives a carefree existence packed full of fun, but free from emotional entanglements and that’s just how she wants to keep it. When she meets the new police officer in town, she’s unable to deny the connection between them. His over confidence and bullish ways grate on her…still she can’t help but find herself falling into his bed AND falling for him.

Jamie McTavish is man enough to admit that he probably didn’t make the best first impression when he met the 911 Operator. That doesn’t mean there isn’t still sizzling sexual tension between them. He’s a man of action and he’s not content to sit on the sidelines until Jackie works out her issues. But trying to tame this tiger might be too big of a challenge for even him.

Add INDECISION to your Goodreads list here!

Get it now: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo


Excerpt

I pulled the cruiser into Jackie’s driveway. What the hell was wrong with me? It was only yesterday that I’d gotten her off and yet here I was, sitting unannounced in her driveway like a stalker.

If I’d thought it difficult to get her off my mind before, what had happened in the wine cellar had made it damn near impossible.

Everyone I’d talked to had said the same thing—that she’d turned down each and every cop or fireman that had asked her out. No one was sure if she was just trying to keep her personal life outside of the work environment or what, but I intended to find out. The insane pull between us didn’t leave me any other choice.

With a sigh, I unbuckled my seatbelt and glanced at the small bungalow. It was cute with white siding and black shutters. Hanging baskets of colorful flowers hung from hooks around the veranda and a kickass bicycle was leaning against the side of the house. That helped to explain why she had such a firm ass.

I opened the door to the cruiser when the front door of the house burst open, and Jackie stood there frozen, her hand held to her chest and such an expression of fear on her face that I bolted out of the car and up the front steps.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded as soon as I was in front of her.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked in barely a whisper.

I relaxed a fraction once it was clear she was okay. “I figured you could use a lift to Don’s place for your car. Didn’t think you would’ve driven home last night.” I shrugged. “It’s been quiet today, so I popped by to see if you wanted me to drive you over.”

She released a pent-up breath and relief washed over her face. “Oh, thank God.”

I frowned and gripped her upper arms. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

She glanced down at where my hands lay on her soft skin and looked back up to me, blinking twice. “It’s nothing. When I saw the cruiser in the driveway...never mind.” She shook her head.

I studied her for a moment. She was sexy just rolling out of bed with her hair thrown in a messy bun and last night’s make-up still on her face. “You sure?”

She nodded and her eyes flicked down to my hands once more. “Why are you always touching me whenever I see you?” Her voice had come out all breathy, not at all convincing me that she didn’t like my hands right where they were.

I grazed her collarbones with my thumbs, causing goose bumps to form on her skin. “I think you know exactly why.”

Giveaways and Release Festivities

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Elisabeth Grace isn't giving away just one prize in celebration of INDECISION - she's giving away a ton more! Be sure to keep an eye on Elisabeth Grace's Facebook page this week for more information about a lot of really cool prizes you can win!

Happy Hour Book Bash

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Thursday, August 27, 2015

FORGETTING AUGUST by J.L. BERG --> COVER REVEAL & GIVEAWAY

We're so excited to be able to share the absolutely stunning cover of FORGETTING AUGUST with you! Take a look:

ForgettingAugustCover

 

 

About FORGETTING AUGUST:

USA Today bestselling author J.L Berg’s FORGETTING AUGUST, in which a woman, who started over, never expected her world to suddenly be turned upside down by the reawakening of the one man who could destroy it all, releases as an e-book in December 2015. More information coming soon!

Add it to Goodreads here!

Preorder the paperback: Amazon | Barnes and Noble

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Want to Win?:

Want to be one of the first people to read FORGETTING AUGUST? Enter below for a chance to be one of the first people to get an ARC when they're available!

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About J.L. Berg

J.L. Berg is the USA Today bestselling author of the Ready Series. She is a California native living in the beautiful state of historic Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, they have two beautiful girls that drive them batty on a daily basis. When she's not writing, you will find her with her nose stuck in a romance novel, in a yoga studio or devouring anything chocolate. J.L. Berg is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC.

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Tuesday, August 25, 2015

HEART-SHAPED HACK by TRACEY GARVIS GRAVES --> RELEASE DAY LAUNCH & GIVEAWAY






When Kate
Watts abandoned her law career to open a food pantry in Northeast Minneapolis,
she never dreamed it would be this difficult. Facing the heartbreaking prospect
of turning hungry people away, she is grateful for the anonymous donations that
begin appearing at the end of each month. Determined to identify and thank her
secret benefactor, she launches a plan and catches Ian —a charismatic hacker
with a Robin Hood complex—in the act.

Ian
intrigues Kate in a way no man ever has. But after learning he’s snooped around
on her personal computer, she demands retribution. Impressed with her tolerance
and captivated by her spirit, he complies and begins to slowly charm his way
past her defenses. Time spent with Ian is never boring, and Kate soon finds
herself falling for the mysterious hacker.

But Ian
has enemies and they’re growing restless. In the hacking world, exploiting a
target’s weakness is paramount, and no price is too high to stop an attack. And
when Kate learns exactly how much Ian has paid, she’ll discover just how strong
her love is for the man who has hacked his way into her heart.










© 2015 Tracey Garvis Graves
Heart-Shaped Hack
EXCERPT



“Oh, hi,” she said.

“Imagine running into you here.”

“This is quite a coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence at all. I knew you were following me.”

“You did not.”

“I spotted you hiding behind the plant when I walked into the bank. Plus I could smell your perfume as soon as I stepped out here.”

“Did you”—she used her fingers to make little air quotes—“appropriate money from this bank?” she whispered.

“Of course not. I do all my work from the Batcave. Believe it or not, I actually bank here. I was just signing some papers.”

Kate had never seen a man look so utterly scrumptious while wearing glasses. There was something about the combination of his hair, his scruff, and the semi-rimless designer frames that made him irresistible. “Are the glasses a disguise? Because I totally knew it was you.”

“The glasses are real. I often suffer from eyestrain since I spend so much time on the computer, and I was up late last night, working.”

“They make you look very smart.” She took a moment to imagine how his scruff would feel rubbing against her skin if he were to kiss her.

“I am smart, but I think you mean devastatingly handsome. More so than normal, that is.”

“You’re so humble.”

“Ready?” He walked to the door and held it open for her.

“Yes.”

“Follow me.” He looked at her and laughed. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

They took the elevator to the basement, and when the doors opened to the parking garage, Kate followed Ian to a row of cars. He stopped beside one and pulled a set of keys from his pocket.

She gasped.

Ian smiled. “It’s a—”

“1964 Shelby Daytona Cobra Coupe.”

“’65. But color me impressed.”

“My brother Chad was obsessed with this car. He used to have a poster of it on his bedroom wall. There were only six built between 1964 and 1965.”

“A bit rare indeed.”

The last authentic Shelby had sold at auction for around seven million. Ian’s was obviously a replica, of which there were quite a few, but it was still a very notable vehicle with a price tag that started in the low six figures. “Helena called it an old blue car.”

He grinned, looking contemplative. “Technically, that is correct.”

Kate could not resist running her hand lightly over the Guardsman Blue paint and the white racing stripes on the hood. The Shelby was unmistakably race-car-like in appearance with its aerodynamic design and unique body style. Chad was going to be so jealous. “For someone who values his privacy, isn’t this a bit ostentatious?”

“How so?”

“Rakishly handsome playboy who makes grand philanthropic gestures and drives a flashy car. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Rakishly handsome playboy?”

“Well, if the Prada loafer fits. Wouldn’t you fly under the radar more easily in, say, a Ford Focus?” she asked.

“A Ford Focus? You want me to tool around town in a Ford Focus? Jesus, would I still have my balls?”

“No, they cut them off when they hand you the keys. Of course you’d still have your balls. What kind of question is that? This conversation has gotten way off track.”

“You mean because we started out talking about my car and now we’re talking about my balls?”

“Are we?”

“I believe so.”

“Maybe we should go back to talking about your car.”

“You want to drive it, don’t you?”

“Why would I want to drive your car?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to drive my car? Can you handle a stick shift?”

“Yes, and rather competently I might add.”

“That’s an enormous turn-on. Truly.”

She pretended not to hear him. “This is not a good car for Minnesota winters.”

“Horrible, I agree. My other car has four-wheel drive, but it’s not nearly as fun to operate as this one.” Ian dangled the keys in front of her.

He was right. Kate was dying to drive his car and couldn’t wait to see how it handled. She took the keys, opened the door, and reached over to unlock the passenger side for Ian. They belted up, and she started the car.

“Please note that I’m already making good on my promise, Katie. Because I assure you, driving this car will be the opposite of boring.”


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Tracey Garvis Graves is a New York TimesWall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author. Her debut novel, On the Island, spent 9 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, has been translated into twenty-seven languages, and is in development with MGM and Temple Hill Productions for a feature film. She is also the author of Uncharted, Covet, Every Time I Think of You, and Cherish
Tracey loves to interact with her readers and can be found on Facebook and Twitter.

SECRETS DON'T KEEP by ELORA RAMIREZ --> RELEASE TOUR & GIVEAWAY

It’s release day for Elora Ramirez’s Secrets Don’t Keep! I am so excited about this fantastic young adult thriller, and I’m super excited to be sharing it with you. Elora is sharing an exclusive excerpt with us, and a giveaway, so be sure to check it all out!

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Secrets Don’t Keep Synopsis:

My name is Kera Collins, and I would do anything for a golden nod.

At first glance, my life appears perfect: the best friends, the best school, the attention of Dex Albright, the deliciously irresistible grandson to the Headmaster. All I need is the prestige behind La Boheme, an elite secret society formed within the walls of my school, and my life would be complete. Once I’m in, I’ll be the one with all of the secrets.

It’s just…no one told me these secrets could kill.

Amazon

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

I know most people don’t get excited about the beginning of another school year, but I’m not most people, and this isn’t your ordinary school. And somewhere deep inside, I think there’s a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe this will be the year I get a golden envelope.

It sounds hilarious and fake, but it’s legit, and the definition behind Grove’s legacy of A-list alumni.

La Boheme.

A secret society offering immediate acceptance into an Ivy League of your choice. Social proof that lasts for decades. First dibs on societies that are just tiny rumors on our nation’s radar.

Skull and Bones.

Euclians.

From there, the influence is unlimited. The society dates back to our school’s origin and holds roots in the birth of some of the most promising universities. Essentially, La Boheme is the breeding ground for the nation’s elite.

The envelopes come the first week of school. I would do anything for a golden nod. I rub my fingers together in a small circle and daydream about endless funds and absolute power.

We make our way down the cobblestone drive and I watch the lacrosse team, already on campus for practices, run drills on a nearby field. Given the way a few of them keep tripping over their sticks, I imagine this must be the first year team. To their right a few guys throw a football across the quad. Everywhere students are getting situated and carrying boxes into their tiny rooms, now makeshift homes until Christmas break.

A slow smile spreads across my face and I nervously tap my fingers against my bare legs. My phone vibrates and I glance down to read the text. It’s Season.

 

OMG where are you?! Youll never believe the rug I brought back from Bali. Its divine.

 

I shake my head and type in a quick response.



Its about time you texted. I just got here. Be there soon.

 

I shift in my seat with anticipation. This year, Season and I managed to get into Ivy Hall, the building reserved for a select number of seniors. It’s by and large the most striking of the dorms, with stone edifices and ivy that snakes it’s way up and over the walls. For the past three years, we dreamed about living here one day. It rests against the back of the campus and in front of a wooded area that’s a rumored host to many soirees reserved for the third and fourth years. But that’s just a cover. Those parties?

They’re La Boheme.

At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

Just getting into the dorm feels like a transcendent promise.

I gaze out the window and shuffle my feet in anticipation.



Elora Ramirez Bio:

unnamed (22)Elora Ramirez has been telling stories her whole life.

 

It started when she was four, when she taught herself how to read and write as a way to entertain herself while her grandmother kicked and danced in aerobics class. She cut her teeth on books from Dr. Seuss and writing anywhere she could find the space -- including her Fischer Price kitchenette, the pages of picture books, and Highlights Magazines.

 

She's matured a bit since then, now choosing to write in the margins of her books and on the mirrors of her apartment ideas and thoughts surrounding story and what makes us human. You can read more on her blog, eloranicole.com

Links:

Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Author Goodreads

 

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Monday, August 24, 2015

GETTING HOT by MIA STORM ~ RELEASE LAUNCH




Release Day August 17

Blurb:

Rules of engagement:

1) You have the right to use force to defend yourself.
2) Fire may be returned to stop a hostile attack.
3) You may not seize the property of others to accomplish your mission.
4) Detention of civilians is authorized in self-defense.

Delilah Morgan and her older sister Destiny have been on their own for two years, since their parents burned down the family home and went to jail for cooking meth. She’s street smart and tough. Nothing about her says sixteen, and she’s not about to tell anyone, especially Bran, the hot ex-marine bartender Destiny has her eye on. He’s stable and successful and everything her sister needs to keep them off the street. The only problem, something about Bran inspires her and suddenly she’s writing the best music she ever has. About him.

Branson Silo knows what it means to be in the line of fire. Home for a year from his second tour of duty in Afghanistan, he thinks he’s safe…until he meets Delilah. Despite her sharp tongue that makes him want to take cover, he can’t deny the attraction. But when he hires her to play weekends at his family’s saloon, he finds out she’s more than he can handle…which is saying something considering he used to blow things up for a living.
When the grenade finally explodes and the shrapnel flies, will Bran be left standing? Or has he survived years at war only to be taken down by Jail Bait?

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25610476-getting-hot


About the Author:

Mia Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending. Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite. Connect with her online at MiaStormAuthor.blogspot.com , on Twitter at @MiaStormAuthor, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MiaStormAuthor



EXCERPT:

I’m blending a pair of frozen daiquiris with one hand and shaking a martini with the other when out of the corner of my eye, I see a solo blonde slide onto the barstool at the end, near the beer taps. I finish what I’m doing and prepare the tray for Carol to pick up before glancing over and seeing its Destiny.

A guy in the middle of the bar makes eye contact and nods at his empty beer mug. I grab it and start filling without really looking up at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you again till closer to closing.”

“Sorry?” she says. “Are you talking to me?”

The voice is off—slightly raspy and a pitch lower than her usual. I look up again and squint at her, wondering if she’s already started drinking. She’s taken her straight hair down from the ponytail she always wears it in and it’s not as long as I remember it from the other night—the only other time I’ve seen it down. There’s also a fading blue stripe cutting through the platinum over her right ear that I’ve never noticed before.

“What can I get you?” I ask her instead of pushing it.

I’m already reaching for the vodka and cranberry to start on a Madras, her drink of choice last week, when she answers, “Rum and Coke.”

“That’s different,” I mutter, shooting her another glance.

She gives me a puzzled look. “Look, I really just wanted to find out if you hire entertainment.”

My face mirrors her puzzlement, I’m sure, as I try to process her statement. “Why?”

She hunches to the side and pulls something up from her feet. I see it’s a battered black guitar case when the narrow end peeks over the top of the bar. “Because I need a gig.”

“Didn’t know you played,” I say, pushing her drink across the bar to her.

That baffled look is back as she pulls it toward her and takes a swallow. I can’t help following the curve of her long neck downward toward a pair of large round tits perfectly outlined by her snug, low-cut T-shirt. She is definitely hot, and if we’re on the same page, then I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. She wants me to fuck her till she screams? I’m perfectly capable of that. She sets her drink down and catches me staring. She cuts me that wicked smile again, causing my cock to stir. I return the smile, sending the innuendo right back at her.

She props her elbows onto the bar and leans forward, giving me a clear look down her shirt. “Considering that we’ve never met before, I don’t find that surprising.”

I’m so absorbed in images of my face buried in those magnificent tits that it takes me a second to process what she said.
My eyes snap to hers. “Wait…what?”

She reaches across the bar, offering me a hand. “Lilah.”

There’s a full second all I can do is stare, wondering if this is one of those split personality things you hear about sometimes. And in that second, through the dim lighting, I take in all the tiny details—a dark mole at the outer corner of her right eye; her eyes, silver instead of blue; the missing white crescent-shaped scar above Destiny’s right eyebrow; and lips, a little fuller than I remember—which are smirking at me now.

“You’re not Destiny,” I say as it all clicks.

It’s not a question, but she shakes her head. “No. I am most definitely not Destiny.”

“Twins?” I ask.

She cocks her head playfully. “What do you think?”

“You’ve got to be. You’re fucking identical except for the eyes.” I tap my forehead. “And you’re missing a scar.”

Her perfect blond eyebrow raises in amusement. “She’s the pretty one and I’m the smart one.”

I bark out a laugh as I reach across and shake her hand. “Bran Silo. Good to meet you.”

She doesn’t let go of my hand for a second after we’re done shaking—just long enough to send a clear message that she’s interested.
A knot forms in my gut, and I realize it’s guilt. Destiny and I have an understanding, but regardless, I’m pretty sure fucking her sister would be way outside the bounds of gentlemanly behavior. Not that anyone would ever mistake me for a gentleman. “Destiny never mentioned she had a sister.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” She takes another drink, nearly polishing it off in a few big gulps.

I tip my head at it her glass. “Another?”

“My limit is one,” she says, pushing her glass toward me. “Just Coke this time, thanks.”

Carol sweeps by on her way to the kitchen, dropping an order on my bar. “Thought you left,” she says to Lilah without slowing down. “Careful or your favorite customer might ask for you,” she adds, jerking her head at Mr. Hendricks as she disappears through the swinging door.

I bark out a laugh as I scoop ice into Lilah’s glass and fill it with Coke. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

Lilah shrugs. “Happens all the time.” She slides out of her chair, lifting the guitar case. “So do you want to hear me play or what?”

I look around the crowded room, loud with chatter, drowning out the background music. “We don’t generally have live entertainment,” I say, which is really an understatement. We’ve never had live entertainment. But for some reason, I’m not willing to shut Lilah down so fast.

When my eyes find her again, annoyed impatience shines loud and clear out of her gaze. “So that’s a no?”

I feel my mouth pull into a cocky half-smile. “I didn’t say that.”

She opens her case and pulls out her guitar, unabashedly climbing through the window I left ajar for her. I watch as she sets herself up on the stool and rests the guitar in her lap, gripping it softly but confidently. She starts strumming, and I expect her to be discrete, since this is basically an audition, but there’s not a shred of self-consciousness or embarrassment anywhere in her disposition as she begins to belt out lyrics—an old No Doubt song that I can’t remember the name of.

The way she plays, as if on instinct; the passion in her voice, and the fact that she’s really fucking good, starts to turn heads at the tables closest to us. As they quiet and listen, more tables still, and soon the only thing she’s competing to be heard over is the Kat Country on the speakers. But she doesn’t decrease her volume. If anything, as eyes find her, she becomes louder, feeding off the attention.

I reach under the bar and click off the stereo, then lean onto the back counter and cross my arms, listening as she finishes one song and launches into the next.

A guy at the bar pulls a five from his pocket and flags me down with it. I grab his beer mug, but he shakes his head. “Is there a tip jar?” he asks with a nod toward Lilah.

I pull a fresh mug from under the bar and he slips the five inside, then I set it at the end of the bar near Lilah. She cuts me a smile and her eyes slide down my body as she sings.

And fuck me. I lean my hands on the bar and press against the lower counter when my dick won’t yield to my will. Without a doubt, everything Destiny has going on, Lilah’s got that and more.

INSIDIOUS by ALEATHA ROMIG ~ SALE




INSIDIOUS BLURB:

Dark desires…Deadly secrets…Devious deceptions…Nothing is exactly as it seems in INSIDIOUS, the new erotic thriller from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author ALEATHA ROMIG!

When a powerful man is willing to risk everything for his own satisfaction, only one woman can beat him at his own game: his wife. Or so she thinks…

“Let’s start with you calling me Stewart. Formalities seem unnecessary.”

Stewart Harrington is rich, gorgeous, and one of the most powerful men in Miami. He always gets what he wants. Anything is available to him for the right price.

Even me.

Being the wife of a mogul comes with all the perks, but being Mrs. Stewart Harrington comes with a few special requirements. I’ve learned to keep a part of myself locked away as my husband watches me submit to his needs. But the more he demands of me, the more beguiled he becomes and that’s to my advantage. So I keep fulfilling his fantasies and following his rules because he doesn’t know that what he’s playing is really my game. And winning is everything, right?

INSIDIOUS is a stand-alone novel and the first Tales from the Dark Side title by ALEATHA ROMIG.

**Due to the dark and explicit nature of this book, it is recommended for mature audiences only.**



INSIDIOUS by Aleatha Romig Excerpt:

I began to turn toward him, to stop the uneasy feelings his proximity spurred, when he stopped me: his tenor left no room for compromise.

“Don’t turn around.”

Involuntarily, I shuddered at his command.

“Put your hands on the window. Let me see those pretty little fingers.”

I’d never heard a man speak with such unquestioning authority. Obediently, I splayed my fingers on the cool glass before me, thankful I’d left my purse on the sofa. Caging me within his arms, his hands came to rest beside mine. The contrast in size was startling as his deep voice exhaled breathily onto my neck.

His lips brushed my neck. Instead of fighting, I tilted my head back against his chest to give him better access.

Sighing, he moaned. “Damn, girl, you’re sexier up close than I ever imagined. Do you know how hot that answer was?” His fingers that had just painfully twisted my hard nub caressed my same breast. Suddenly, his touch was warm and electric. “You may be frightened, but it’s not of me, it’s of what you’re feeling. Your nipples are telling me you’re feeling the same thing I am. They’re saying that you like this.” With both hands on my breasts, he’d lowered the top of my dress fully exposing me to the window. Thankfully, we were stories above the city. “Do you know how else I know you’re aroused?”

Forming words had become increasingly difficult. Therefore, I shook my head.

“I smell it, and darling, you smell fantastic. I bet you taste fantastic.”




Sunday, August 23, 2015

BEFORE WE WERE STRANGERS by RENEE CARLINO -->









From the USA TODAY
bestselling author of Sweet Thing and Nowhere But Here comes a love story about
a Craigslist “missed connection” post that gives two people a second chance at
love fifteen years after they were separated in New York City.

To the Green-eyed Lovebird:
We met fifteen years ago, almost to the day, when I moved my
stuff into the NYU dorm room next to yours at Senior House.
You called us fast friends. I like to think it was more.
We lived on nothing but the excitement of finding ourselves
through music (you were obsessed with Jeff Buckley), photography (I couldn’t
stop taking pictures of you), hanging out in Washington Square Park, and all
the weird things we did to make money. I learned more about myself that year
than any other.
Yet, somehow, it all fell apart. We lost touch the summer
after graduation when I went to South America to work for National Geographic.
When I came back, you were gone. A part of me still wonders if I pushed you too
hard after the wedding…
I didn’t see you again until a month ago. It was a
Wednesday. You were rocking back on your heels, balancing on that thick yellow
line that runs along the subway platform, waiting for the F train. I didn’t
know it was you until it was too late, and then you were gone. Again. You said
my name; I saw it on your lips. I tried to will the train to stop, just so I
could say hello.
After seeing you, all of the youthful feelings and memories
came flooding back to me, and now I’ve spent the better part of a month
wondering what your life is like. I might be totally out of my mind, but would
you like to get a drink with me and catch up on the last decade and a half?

M


AMAZON   ***   BARNES & NOBLE ***  iBooks













2. Five Days After I Saw You

MATT

I took the damn F train, an hour-long ride to Brooklyn
from Midtown and back every day, at lunch, hoping I would run into Grace again,
but I never did.

Things were bad at work. I had submitted a request to
go into the field three months earlier but had been denied. Now I had to watch
Elizabeth and Brad walk around in bliss as people congratulated them on the
baby and Brad's promotion, which came right after the announcement.

Meanwhile, I was still rejecting any forward motion in
my life. I was a stagnant puddle of shit. I had volunteered to go back on
location to South America with a National
Geographic
film crew. New York just wasn't the same anymore. It held no
magic for me. The Amazonian jungle, with all of its wonderful and exotic
diseases, seemed more appealing than taking orders from my ex-wife and her smug
husband. But my request hadn't been approved or denied. It just sat in a pile of
other requests on Scott's desk.

I pondered the current state of my life while I stared
at a blank wall in the office break room. Standing next to the water cooler,
holding a half-empty paper cone, I tallied the insubstantial years I had spent
with Elizabeth and wondered why. How had things gone so terribly wrong?

"What are you doin', man?" Scott's voice
came from the doorway.

I turned and smiled. "Just thinking."

''You seem a little brighter."

"Actually, I was thinking about how I ended up
thirty­six, divorced, and trapped in cubicle hell."

He walked to the coffeepot and poured a mug full then
leaned against the counter. "You were a workaholic?" he offered.

"That's not why Elizabeth was unfaithful. She
fell right into Brad's skinny arms, and he works more than I do. Hell,
Elizabeth works more than I do."

"Why are you dwelling on the past? Look at you. You're
tall. You have hair. And it looks like"—he waved his hand around at my
stomach—"you might have abs?"

''You checking me out?"

''I'd kill for a head of hair like that."

Scott was the kind of guy who was bald by twenty-two. He's
been shaving it Mr. Clean-style since then.

"What do women call that thing?" He pointed
to the back of my head.

"A bun?"

"No, there's, like, a sexier name for it. The
ladies love that shit."

"They call it a man-bun."

He studied me. "Jesus, you're a free man, Matt.
Why aren't you prowling the savannahs for new game? I can't watch you mope
around like this. I thought you were over Elizabeth?"

I shut the break-room door. "I am. I was over
Elizabeth a long time ago. It's hard for me even to remember being into her. I
got caught up in the fantasy of it, traveling with her, taking photos. Something
was always missing, though. Maybe I did work too much. I mean, that's all we
talked about, that's all we had in common. Now look where I am."

"What about Subway Girl?"

"What about her?"

"I don't know. I thought you were gonna try to
get in touch with her?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Easier said than done."

"You just have to put yourself out there. Get on
social media."

Will
I find Grace there?
I went back and forth between wanting to
do everything I could to find her and feeling like it was totally pointless.
She'd be with someone. She'd be someone's wife. Someone better than me. I wanted
to get away from everything reminding me that I still had nothing.

"If you care so much, why haven't you approved my
request?" I asked.

He scowled. I noticed how deep the line was between
his eyebrows and it occurred to me that Scott and I were the same age...and he
was getting old. "I don't mean the actual savannahs, man. Running away
isn't going to solve your problems."

"Now you're my shrink?"

"No, I'm your friend. Remember when you asked for
that desk job?"

I walked toward the door. "Just consider it.
Please, Scott."

Right before I left the room he said, "You're
chasing the wrong thing. It's not gonna make you happy."

He was right, and I could admit that to myself, but
not out loud. I thought if I could win an award again, get some recognition for
my work, it would fill the black hole eating away at me. But deep down, I knew
that wasn't the solution.

After work, I sat on a bus bench just outside the National
Geographic building. I watched hordes of people trying to get home, racing down
the crowded sidewalks of Midtown. I wondered if I could judge how lonely a
person was based on how much of a hurry he or she was in. No one who has
someone waiting for him at home would sit on a bus bench after a ten-hour
workday and people-watch. I always carried an old Pentax camera from my college
days in my messenger bag, but I hadn't used it in years.

I removed it from the case and starting clicking away
as people flooded in and out of the subway, as they waited for buses, as they
hailed cabs. I hoped that through the lens I would see her again, like I had
years before. Her vibrant spirit; the way she could color a black-and-white
photo with her magnetism alone. I had thought about Grace often over the years.
Something as simple as a smell, like sugared pancakes at night, or the sound of
a cello in Grand Central or Washington Square Park on a warm day, could
transport me right back to that year in college. The year I spent falling in
love with her.

It was hard for me to see the beauty in New York anymore.
Granted, much of the riffraff and grit was gone, at least in the East Village; it
was cleaner and greener now, but that palpable energy I had felt in college was
gone, too. For me, anyway.



Time passes, life goes on, places change, people change.
And still, I couldn't get Grace off my mind after seeing her in the subway. Fifteen
years is too long to be holding on to a few heart-pounding moments from
college.














Renée Carlino is a screenwriter and bestselling author of
romantic women's novels. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two
sons, and their sweet dog June. When she’s not at the beach with her boys or
working on her next project, she likes to spend her time reading, going to
concerts, and eating dark chocolate.








Friday, August 21, 2015

HEART-SHAPED HACK by TRACEY GARVIS GRAVES --> PRE-LAUNCH TOUR






When Kate
Watts abandoned her law career to open a food pantry in Northeast Minneapolis,
she never dreamed it would be this difficult. Facing the heartbreaking prospect
of turning hungry people away, she is grateful for the anonymous donations that
begin appearing at the end of each month. Determined to identify and thank her
secret benefactor, she launches a plan and catches Ian —a charismatic hacker
with a Robin Hood complex—in the act.

Ian
intrigues Kate in a way no man ever has. But after learning he’s snooped around
on her personal computer, she demands retribution. Impressed with her tolerance
and captivated by her spirit, he complies and begins to slowly charm his way
past her defenses. Time spent with Ian is never boring, and Kate soon finds
herself falling for the mysterious hacker.

But Ian
has enemies and they’re growing restless. In the hacking world, exploiting a
target’s weakness is paramount, and no price is too high to stop an attack. And
when Kate learns exactly how much Ian has paid, she’ll discover just how strong
her love is for the man who has hacked his way into her heart.










© 2015 Tracey Garvis Graves
Heart-Shaped Hack
EXCERPT



Kate was taking a break and having coffee and a muffin at Wilde Roast Café when Ian slid into the booth and sat across from her. He was wearing a lightweight cream-colored sweater with a tan-and-green-patterned shirt underneath, and he smelled good.

“Hello again.”

Confused, Kate looked around. “Where did you come from?”

“I walked in the door like everyone else.”

“Do you live nearby?” Kate lived in the St. Anthony Main neighborhood of Northeast Minneapolis. The food pantry was conveniently located on SE Main Street, which was a short three-block walk from her apartment. The quiet brick-paved street was lined with restaurants, shops, and a movie theater and included a stunning view of the Mississippi River and St. Anthony Falls. There were also bars that featured live music and plenty of green space in nearby parks.

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I felt like talking to you again. You’re seated, so you probably won’t try to strangle me this time.”

“How did you know where to find me?” She was tucked away in a back booth instead of one of the tables near the windows that looked out over SE Main, so it wasn’t like he’d walked by and spotted her.

He held a steaming cup of coffee and blew on it to cool it. “I tracked your credit card activity. According to Capital One, you bought a cup of coffee and a muffin here twelve minutes ago.”

“You tracked my credit card?” Her voice sounded rather loud and shrieky.

He held a finger in front of his mouth. “Shh, Katie Long Legs. That information is for your ears only. How’s your coffee? Would you like a refill?”

Kate did not appreciate being shushed, but she lowered her voice. “Are you some kind of cyberthief?” she whispered. And since when were criminals so well-dressed and impeccably groomed?

“I did not steal your credit card number. I simply accessed your account to see where and when you’d used it last. Then I came here.”

“If you wanted to talk to me again, why didn’t you just go to the food pantry?”

He looked at her like it was obvious. “Because you’re not there. You’re here at this café.”

“If you’re not a cyberthief, then what are you?”

“I’m a hacker.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Most definitely.”

“When you said you steal from the rich to give to the poor, I thought you were kidding. Is that how you get the money?”

“I don’t steal it. I appropriate it from people who shouldn’t have it in the first place. Then I give it to those who are more deserving.”

Kate twisted her napkin. “I can’t keep the money. I’ve already spent the first two donations, but if you come back to the food pantry with me, I can return the most recent one. It’s still locked in the safe because I wasn’t planning on going shopping until tomorrow.”

“No, Katie. I don’t want it back. It’s for you. It’s for the babies.”

“It’s wrong,” she said quietly.

“Is it?”

“It’s against the law.”

“Trust me when I say the people I took it from don’t want the law involved any more than I do.”

“What are you saying? That you’re a thief who steals from other thieves?”

He wrinkled his nose, and it was adorable.

Stop! Thief!

“It sounds so distasteful when you say it like that. I prefer master appropriator of ill-gotten funds. You can call me master for short.”

“I have lots of things I’d like to call you. Master is not one of them.”














Tracey Garvis Graves is a New York TimesWall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author. Her debut novel, On the Island, spent 9 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, has been translated into twenty-seven languages, and is in development with MGM and Temple Hill Productions for a feature film. She is also the author of Uncharted, Covet, Every Time I Think of You, and Cherish
Tracey loves to interact with her readers and can be found on Facebook and Twitter.


Thursday, August 20, 2015

GUIDING LIGHT by JESSICA FLORENCE --> RELEASE DAY LAUNCH

 
It’s release day for Jessica Florence’s Guiding Lights. I’m so excited about this fantastic new release and I’m thrilled to be sharing it with you! Jessica is sharing an excerpt and fantastic giveaway with us, so be sure to check it all out!
GL RDL Banner
Blogs Taking Part in the Release Day Launch
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Sarah & Kirsty's Book Reviews
2 Girls Who Love Books
Fabulously Naughty Books
Dreaming of a Book Boyfriend
Friends Till The End Book Blog
I Love Book Love
GL Amazon
About Guiding Lights:
He sings of suffering. His eyes hold the pain of living in sorrow.
The moment our gaze meets recognition flares within.
We are tortured souls drifting in a sea of darkness.
He knows I have secrets that I'll never tell.
I am numb
I am broken
I am dirty
I can never be the guiding light through the darkness he thinks I am.
I have forsaken my past, I rely on keeping myself shut off.
But he has secrets too, secrets that would destroy everything I have left.
I wish things were different, that maybe we could be each other's lifeline.
But destiny drags us down like an anchor.
The broken can only drift in the sea barely staying afloat.
Buy Links:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Exclusive Excerpt:
“Alright ye braw laddies 'n' lasses, shut yer traps,” the singer spoke into the mic. A small smile broke out at his demand for them to close their mouths. I hoped for his sake that they didn’t end up throwing their fish supper at him once he got started.
His fingers started strumming low notes on an old acoustic guitar. I checked over everyone at the bar and turned back to the singer. The way he started humming against the mic sent tingles into the pit of my stomach. His eyes were closed, but even from twenty feet away, I could tell he was very attractive. Long brown hair was pulled back and tied in a little bun on the top of his head. His beard was thick and surrounded his perfectly shaped mouth. Even with his beard you could see his strong, sharp jaw. I found myself leaning against the bar, waiting to hear his voice. Would it be rough and broken with his accent?
He kept his eyes closed as he started to sing, and my body trembled at his voice.
Satin lips taste of champagne
Her leather pants leave a stain upon her skin
A couple sniffs, the line disappears
She stays in my bed, wanting to be hidden, begging
His was voice was low and deep. It was smooth and reached down into your soul. You could feel him baring himself for all to hear. I looked around to see I wasn’t the only one enthralled. He had the whole room watching him. Hanging on for every morsel of word he would give us. When my gaze flicked back toward him, I was shocked to see honey-colored eyes staring back at me. Trapping me like quicksand, I couldn’t look away.
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About Jessica Florence:
Jessica Florence makes her home in Southwest Florida where she runs her own business, and of course writing! She one day after reading a book a day for a year just sat down and started writing, thus finding a new amazing hobby that she was looking for, for years, and that was also very therapeutic.
She spends her days reading, writing, watching TV, working, playing with her cute as hell baby, and black German Shepherd Rogue aka Rogue-i-bear, and of course tormenting her husband ;)
She also enjoys taking naps, bubble baths, eating pickles like candy, and having Harry Potter marathons.
Links:
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