Monday, December 19, 2016

COVER REVEAL: Body of the Crime by R. Scarlett

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Title: Body Of The Crime (Blackest Gold, #2)
Author: R. Scarlett
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: January 30 , 2017
Cover Design: Mae I Design

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S y n o p s i s
Never trust a demon. 
Never trust your heart. 
And never trust the woman who holds it.
In Body of the Crime, a beast craved a beauty and oh, how she ravaged him.  

M o r e   i n   t h e   s e r i e s !

Vein Of Love

A b o u t   T h e   A u t h o r

R. Scarlett

R. Scarlett lives in a small quaint town in Southern Ontario, Canada and has an unhealthy obsession with mythology and romance. 

From studying English literature and minoring in History, she loves losing herself in a good book and snuggling up to her Brittany Spaniel. When she's not writing or plotting a delicious novel, she can be found hanging out with friends and family, going on long car rides, exploring small towns, or watching reruns of Sex and the City.


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Friday, December 16, 2016

COVER REVEAL: Be a Doll by Stephanie Witter


Stephanie Witter’s highly anticipated standalone 
releases January 17th

Add Be A Doll to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2gWW1l0

B l u r b

At Carter Manor, women were groomed to become the perfect next trophy wife for the most influential and powerful men in the world. 
Polished, educated, and disciplined... they met every criteria.
Or did they?

LILA

After escaping two prospective husbands, I knew I didn't have much of a choice anymore but to play by the rules if I didn't want to end up back in the streets.
Upon meeting him I expected an older disgusting man, but he proved me wrong. 
He was young, handsome... and despicable.
His cold hearted behavior and condescension caused me to lose my carefully built appearance of sophistication, but somehow, it made me win a husband who enjoyed toying with me until he could break the last pieces of who I used to be. I wouldn't let him. 
I hated him.
At least I did at first, until I had a peek underneath his walls and discovered the kind of pain he shouldered. 

MATHIS

I never thought I'd get married and even less that I would be purchasing my wife, but for my business I would do anything. 
At the Manor, I was sure I'd find bland women so polished that nothing of their own personality was left.  But one candidate couldn't hide the fire in her.
I was drawn, ready to toy with her, to tease her until she folded for me and let me take her to make her fully mine and not in name only. 
I didn't want love, I didn't want her to be in my living space and I certainly didn't want her to see who I really was under the facade I had spent years shaping myself to be, but that was exactly what was happening. 
She fascinated me.
Her strength made me want her in the most all-consuming way.
Now I wondered who possessed whom.

**Standalone novel for readers over 18.**




A b o u t   t h e   A u t h o r


Stephanie Witter is a dreamer. She started learning English at three and fell in love with the language. Always with a book, or two close by, she can't spend a day without reading (or writing).


Stalk Her:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

COVER REVEAL: Swing by Adriana Locke




Title: Swing
Series: Landry Family #2
Author: Adriana Locke
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Kari March Designs 
Release Date: December 19, 2016



Blurb

Screw him and his perfect stats.
Sinful smirk.
Delicious body.
Lincoln Landry probably even has game-winning stamina.

I’d like to screw her and her perfect ass.
Dangerous curves.
Sweet smile.
Danielle Ashley probably even has a game-changing personality.

There’s no denying the chemistry between them. It’s so fiery, it’s undeniable. They partake in it. Enjoy it.
They really enjoy it.
Attraction is not a problem. Nor is their banter, relationship status, or habits. That’s all fine. Perfect, actually.
The problem is as tangled up as their sheets.

A STANDALONE romantic comedy from USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke.

Excerpt

Screw him and his perfect resume.

And flawless face.

And delicious body.

And probably game-winning stamina. I’m going to be a mess today just thinking about it.

“Why was he in your office?” Macie asks, right as I was ready to mentally remove his clothes. “Oh my God, Danielle! I just pulled him up. Why can’t I be you? Just for a day?”

“I’m quite happy I’m me today,” I laugh. “He just walked off the elevator on the wrong floor and followed me to my office.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter? Now I’m sitting here with wet panties, his ‘Fuck me’ cologne filling my office, and all sorts of ideas as to what his body looks like under those sweatpants and t-shirt.”




Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited




Author Bio

USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.

For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana's Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.



Author Links

COVER REVEAL: Ever Over After by J.A. DeRouen


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Ever Over After (The Over Duet #2)
Cover Design: DCP Designs
Release Date: January 9, 2017
 
S y n o p s i s
Marlo … wild-eyed, untamed, and every single thing I’ve ever wanted from this life. I wasn’t ready for her back then. I was a stupid boy with adult feelings and no idea what to do with them. I squandered away every chance she gave me.

Yes, love like ours either burns white hot or crumbles under the pressure.
And now I’m back to sift through the rubble.

Questions and excuses are two things I have in spades. What I need now are answers.
Answers and Low.
Always Low.

My name is Ever Montgomery, and this is my story of love resurrected.
 
E x c e r p t
Her Jeep is in the driveway. A soft top, fire engine red, Jeep Wrangler. Blood red is more like it. We’re talking about Marlo, after all. How fitting. One hundred, no, a thousand, vehicles lined up in a row, and that’s exactly what I’d pick for her. Lots has changed, but some things stand the test of time.
Low … my Low, is on the other side of that door, curled up in bed, her usual sass kept in check by sweet, sweet dreams. I imagine what it would be like to come home to her. Her eyes closed, lashes like butterfly wings resting on her flushed cheeks—an uninhibited smile playing on her naked lips. She’s got nothing on but a white tank top and panties … the elastic edging of the black silk denting deliciously into her flesh.  She’s curled in the fetal position, that fabulous ass rounded and waiting for me to palm it, hard nipples pushing into stretched, white cotton.
Damn. Damn.
I shift in my seat, pushing my palm into my lap, mentally chanting to myself to calm the hell down. Nothing like an active imagination and an ill-timed boner to make me really feel like a stalker.
I swipe the card off the dashboard, my rebuttal to Marlo’s note of warning, and fold out of the car. I look both ways as I cross the street, not for cars, but for nosy neighbors who may call the cops or wrestle the possible robber to the ground. Part of me wishes something would happen. I hope Marlo has people who look out for her.
A bigger part of me wishes she’d hear me coming and meet me on the porch for an epic showdown … in the previously mentioned tank and panties, if I had my way.
The need to see her, to run my eyes over every piece of her and remind myself she’s more than a memory, is staggering. There were times when I wasn’t sure. She feels like a lifetime ago … another time … when I was a different person. That’s partly true.
Back then, even in the deep haze of it all, I could feel my love for Low trying to claw its way out, begging to break free. But the cancer growing inside me, that extreme sense of loss, strangled everything else. In the end, I let the fog envelop me and opted for numb.
God, I was an idiot.
I’ll never make that mistake again. Never.
I wedge my note into the seam of the door and place a palm to the paned glass. I clench my eyes shut and rest my forehead on the door, only for a moment. As much as I want to curl my fingers into a fist and knock, it has to be her. I need her to come to me.
And when she does, I’ll be ready.
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G i v e a w a y
One of Five ARCs of Ever Over After
Low Over High must be read first. Winners will also receive Low Over High if needed.
 

   
Now Available
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Low Over High (The Over Duet #1)
Purchase Links
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About the Author
J.A. DeRouen lives in South Louisiana with her husband, son (aptly named "The Professor), and her furry friend, Scout. She holds bachelor's degrees in psychology and nursing.
When she's not writing or inhaling romance novels by the stack, she works as a women's health nurse. She's been an avid reader and daydreamer since childhood, and she's never stopped turning the page to get to the next happily ever after.
 
Connect with J.A.
Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/2c3Y2O0
Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2eFOJ6m
Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/2e78EZu
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2eNra9f
BookBub Author Page: http://bit.ly/2eNrncx

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COVER REVEAL: Possession by A.M. Johnson

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Cover Design: Mary Ruth - The Reading Ruth
Photographer: Raymond Moose
Cover Model: Dylan Horsch
Release Date: February 16, 2017
 
S y n o p s i s
Paige Simon was the only girl Declan ever loved. The only one capable of silencing his voices, the only person to ever have faith in who he was, until the day her faith turned to doubt and destroyed everything they’d made together.   

 Declan O ’Connell was the only person Paige could be herself with. The only one she could rely on, until the day she was forced to make a choice that would condemn them both. 

They’ve had years apart, and second chances don’t belong to the damned. But when you come face to face with your savior, it’s almost impossible to walk away. In order to move beyond the sins of their past, and forever silence the demons in his head, they’ll have to risk it all. 

But with love, there are real reasons to be afraid and, sometimes… your salvation is your damnation.  
Goodreads
   
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G i v e a w a y 
One of Five ARCs of Possession by A.M. Johnson
 
 
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A b o u t   t h e   A u t h o r
Amanda Marie Johnson was born and raised in Valrico, Florida. She’s now surrounded by mountains with her husband and three children in Ogden, Utah. She attended Weber State University and graduated with her A.S.N. She is a full-time registered nurse. Reading and writing have always been something she is passionate about. She loves to write about the human experience, love and happily ever afters.  
Connect with A.M.
Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/1YCV5lc
Facebook Group: http://bit.ly/1TZxcjM
Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/1Tg0mkC
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1MdKwUI
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Wednesday, December 7, 2016

RELEASE BLITZ: On Thin Ice by Carrie Aarons




Title: On Thin Ice
Author: Carrie Aarons
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: December 7, 2016



Blurb

Nathan Rush is a small town man who has never dreamed of a bigger life.

Until, that is, the only surviving heiress of America's richest family lands on his doorstep. Nathan is the groundskeeper at Hollis House, the Valon family's upstate New York mansion just outside of Harlin Falls, the quiet, sleepy town he was raised in. He's an honest, hard-working man who wants nothing more than a beer and a hockey game on TV at the end of the night. Except, when the ice princess starts to melt, Nathan pictures his future in a way he never has before.

Camille Valon's life has taken place in the spotlight.

Until, that is, her parents are murdered in a mysterious Christmas Day fire. Now all she wants is to flee the prying news cameras and slow-moving investigation. She's an upper crust ice princess who is good at keeping everyone at arm's length. Grief-stricken and still fearing for her life, Camille arrives at her family's safe haven estate with secrets and a chip on her shoulder. What she didn't count on was the kind, ridiculously attractive man who caters to her every need.

As the months go by, and an impending threat grows closer to discovering Camille's location, the line between employer and employee becomes dangerously blurred. Nathan and Camille could be each other's saving graces, if only they'd put aside their visions of a perfect life and take the chance fate has put right in front of them.








Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Author Bio

Author of romance novels such as Red Card and the Captive Heart Duet, Carrie Aarons writes sexy, swoony and sarcastic characters who won't get out of her head until she puts them down on a page.

Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book. She loves spinning tales that include dapper men, women with attitude, and the occasional hunky athlete.

When she isn't in what her husband calls a "writing coma", Carrie is freeing up her jam-packed DVR, starting her latest DIY project, or planning her next travel adventure. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, who is more than happy to watch sports while his wife plots love stories.




Author Links

EXCERPT REVEAL: Hail Mary by Nicola Rendell
















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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.





















Jimmy


​Joe Namath said it: “When you win, nothing hurts.”
And I might be flat on my back with a headache like I just sucked down a smoothie too fast, but I’m fucking winning. Because look at that goddamned face. Fucking gorgeous. Freckles, those lips. Everything. Her body is hella hot, but that face. That face seals it.
​Also, those tits. I groan and pretend I’m rubbing my temples. Actually, I’m looking at the curve of her stomach—the crease across her belly button. The edge of the tattoo just wraps around her side, accentuating the line of her waist. God, yes.
​“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m not allowed to fight my own weight class anymore, but I thought you’d be able to take it.”
​“Ouch.”
​“Oh no.” She puts her hand to her mouth. “I mean…sorry. Just…I’m really sorry.”
​I know she’s lying. She’s probably left a trail of unconscious guys from here to wherever she came from, but I’m not proud. I’ll be the next man in line. I sure fucking will. “What do you weigh? A buck fifty? And you knocked me out like that?”
​“One fifty-seven!” The way she says it, she’s proud of it, and I love that. A buck fifty-seven. Sold.
“You can hit.” I explore the damage with my tongue. The hot, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, and my saliva stings the cut on my bottom lip.
I glance around. Nobody’s paying any attention at all. Further proof that she’s done this before.
“Sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. Let me…” She dabs at my lip with a washcloth. I can smell the sweat, the salt, the heat. The sharp lingering smell of ammonia in my nostrils. A drop of her sweat runs down off her neck and lands on my chest with a plop.
She takes my face in her wrapped hands, looking from eye to eye. “I don’t think you’re concussed.”
​Okay, so I know I’m not—I don’t know much, but I do know a concussion when I get one—but I’m going to go along with it because I need her to stay exactly like that. “Might be.” I follow her eyes with mine. “Head trauma can be very complicated.”
​Slowly, a smile creeps up across her face, and a little dimple crimps her cheek. But she bites it back. “Your pupils look normal.”
​Coconut. I can smell it. Definitely coconut. Good thing I’m already flat on my back. She holds up one finger and moves it to and fro in front of my eyes. I don’t follow it. I leave my eyes right there, on this fleck of brown in her left iris.
​“If you can’t follow my finger, I think we have to call 911…”
I sniff, the ammonia still stinging my sinuses. “If I let you knock me out again, can I get you to keep doing this all night?”
​She pouts and makes a fist of her wrapped hand. “Let me? Let me knock you out?”
​“Oh yeah. Let you.”
She cocks her head, her eyes saying, Bullshit!
“Fuck, yes, I took the fall. Sometimes you got to throw the fight to get what you want.”
​She lets go of my face, and my head lands in her lap. The curve of her thigh supports my neck. She gives me that look again, the one she gave me right before the lights went out. “Yeah? And what do you want?”
​“I think you know.” I let my stare fall to her cleavage.
​She presses her lips together, like she cannot believe I just said that.
​Booyah. Now who’s on her heels?
​I rip off the Velcro cuff from the glove on my right hand and shake it off. “I’m Jimmy.” I hold out my hand to her. She shakes it softly, and then her grip tightens and she pulls me up to a sitting position in the middle of the ring. She keeps her right hand knitted in mine, thumb over thumb, and gently supports my back with the other. “I really am sorry about that.”
“I’ll deny it forever.”
“There were witnesses.” She glances over her shoulder at the assorted groups of guys around the gym.
“Are you familiar with the down-low?”
“They took pictures. For the Knockout Wall,” she says, grinning.
Fuckers. Great. Just great. JIMMY FALCONI KNOCKED OUT BY GIRL IN PINK GLOVES. I can see it on Bleacherreport.com right now. “Polaroids burn super easy.”
Now she’s really smiling, and fuck is she pretty. Like, drop-dead gorgeous. The knockout with the knockout punch. “I’m glad you’re okay. If you never woke up, that would have been a lot of paperwork.”
I grunt-laugh, which also hurts because of that one-two-three combination to my spleen earlier. I grab my stomach and flop back down on the mat.
“Need ice?”
“Let me die with dignity.”
She gets stern. “Ten-four. We’ll remember you fondly.” And then she salutes me.
​All this and she’s funny?
Alright, Falconi. Time to head for the end zone. Time to bring the Super Bowl ring home. “Fine. I’ll give you the win if you let me buy you dinner.”
​Her eyes move over my face. “Dinner? There’s a blizzard coming. Also, you might need a stitch for that lip.”
​“No way. I’ll get some superglue. Fuck the blizzard. Come out with me.”
“Tough guy.”
I study that hollow at the base of her throat and then meet her eyes to hold her stare. “Dinner and drinks.”
​She stands and offers me a wrapped hand. Toe to toe, she sizes me up like we’re locked in some full-body arm-wrestling match. Christ.
​But she still hasn’t said, “Don’t you play for the…” like everybody else always does. So I ask, “You like any other sports besides knocking totally unsuspecting strangers unconscious? Like maybe…football?”
​I hold the ropes open for her and she steps through. Goddamn, those hips. That skin. The curve of her waist. The petals of the lace that barely touch her spine. And my mind kind of unravels in imagining where that tattoo goes and how sexy that ink must be on the skin of her ass.
​“Nope. Is that a problem?” she asks. “That I wouldn’t know my touchdown from my…whatever? Going to put a cramp in our conversation, champ?”
“No problem at all.” Doesn’t matter if she knows me or not, because pretty quick here, I’m planning to have her saying my name. Over and over again.















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Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.


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