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Friday, February 28, 2014

PROMO Blitz: SEE by Jamie Magee

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See - PROMO Blitz
By Jamie Magee
YA/NA Crossover Paranormal
Date Published:  May 2012



Forgetting who you are, your ambitions, your lover is crippling. Remembering, embracing your purpose with a new sense of determination is more than empowering. It's soul seizing. Charlie Myers is embarking on a life-altering path that will cause the damned to humble in silence…

One night, just a few friends how could it go so wrong? That was the question Charlie was asking herself when she awoke in the ER. Outwardly nothing was wrong with Charlie, she was a vision of perfect health, but Charlie knew something else was wrong, wickedly wrong. That fearful notion became even more gripping when her mind began to parade haunting visions of entrancing emerald green eyes, laced in black, before her. When she felt a hole in her heart, when the music she drowned her fears in began to amplify the ache in her soul, and caused her to crave an embrace she thought she never knew.

Charlie knew then that part of her was stolen. She was missing memories. Those memories were sacred. They held the key to her sanity. They told her that the sinister whispers, and the shadows that came to life before her, were not as ominous as she felt they were. They caused her to forget the one talent that allowed her to face the darkness that haunted her every waking hour. They also masked a much deeper bond, the face of the one that had stolen her heart, long before that tragically blinding night.

Charlie wanted to stay in NY, fight her demons where she found them, and ensure that her true home remained a sanctuary. Fate had a different plan in mind. Against her will, Charlie was sent to Salem to live with her sister. Within that small town Charlie found her memories…and so much more.
Her story begins now.


EXCERPT

“What’s going on?” I asked nervously, hitting ‘Pause’ on my phone as I watched him push the seat back so his legs could have more room.
“I told you I’d tell you how to get back,” he said, smiling faintly.
Every part of me was tingling. Yet, I was frozen in place. I had no idea how I was going to focus well enough to drive.
What would I do if I had to fight these shadows in front of him? I was horrified.
“Yeah, but I thought you meant follow you,” I said, trying to take in a breath after I said the words.
“I wanted to ride with you,” he said, pulling his belt on.
As he leaned closer to me to fasten it, I could smell the addictive aroma of his cologne. I knew that scent. My mind was firing off images of him at warp speed. His scent, his eyes, his energy, every ounce of him was magnifying fantasies I could not comprehend in the state I was in.
“Just for the record, you’re only my second passenger. Third, if you count my teacher,” I said, putting the car in drive.
“Duly noted.”
I caught myself staring into his enchanting eyes. His dark lashes framed the most alluring color I’d ever seen. It was like they were intended to be black, but a shade of the most perfect green had shattered the black canvas that they were.
Eyes that had haunted me for days...
He stared back at me with almost the same wonder, then he quirked a slight grin. “That way,” he said, pointing to the left.
Obviously I was alone in my fascination. Surely if we were anything like my minds eye was telling me we were in some forgotten past he would have said something.
Unless. Unless it was a bad past.
The tinge of pain in my heart let that dark thought enter my mind.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I tried to smile through it as I turned the wheel. I crept down the gravel driveway, fighting the glare of the headlights coming from his Hummer. Just before I reached the road, he reached up and moved my rearview mirror, taking the torture of the lights away. He then gently grasped my ear buds and pulled them out. His warm fingertips brushed against my skin, and it took everything I had not to faint. I thought I heard him sigh, just after he took in a deep breath. Those long fingertips of his lingered a little longer, more than likely a second or two, but it felt like hours, then they slid down my neck taking the cords from my ear buds with them.
 I angled my eyes at him to see if I had the same effect on him that he clearly had on me.
 “You have to be able to see and hear if you’re going to get us home,” he explained, relaxing into his seat. He bit his bottom lip as he bathed me in his smoldering gaze. We said a thousand words at that moment. Words I could not hear, but wanted to.



 photo 252327_469060119774642_1944695764_n_zps847d0203.jpgJamie Magee

I'm an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite 'shade.' Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for 'marked moments' every moment of everyday...and I find them. Life is beautiful!


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PROMO Blitz: Fathoms of Forgiveness by Nadia Scrieva

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Fathoms of Forgiveness - PROMO Blitz
By Nadia Scrieva
Paranormal Romance - Epic Fantasy
Date Published: March 2012



Meet the brave and fearless Visola; a woman unlike any you've ever encountered. Her wit and humor take her through the darkest of dangers with a smile always on her face--and her smile only grows larger as the odds become more impossible. With no concern for her own safety, Visola dives headfirst into the throes of battle to protect the people and country she loves, even if it means facing her worst enemy--the one man who can get inside her head and break her down like no other: her own husband...       

There is no divorce in the undersea kingdom of Adlivun. Marriage is a bond that lasts until death--even if death comes in several centuries, and in that time your spouse happens to become your sworn enemy. This is the conflict that General Visola Ramaris faces when she learns that the mighty Vachlan is behind the attacks on her kingdom. She has sworn to protect Adlivun with her life, but long ago, she also swore to love and honor her husband...
Visola must choose whether she will destroy Vachlan once and for all, or attempt the hardest thing conceivable: communication. After two hundred years of desertion, she knows she can never forgive him. When he threatens the person dearest to her, she must take action. Confronting Vachlan on enemy territory would be nothing short of suicide. She knows that if she falls into his custody, the deranged mercenary would relish torturing her and making her lose her own sanity.
Princess Aazuria forbids Visola from taking matters into her own hands. She will do anything it takes to protect her friend from the man who wants to crush her. Alas, Visola is a crazy, uncontrollable warrior with the blood of Vikings in her veins. Why would she ever consider doing the safe and predictable thing?


EXCERPT

When Aazuria entered the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to Visola’s wild red hair, which had recently been a lustrous mass of audacious curls. Now, her hair was limp. It hung against her head flat, frizzy and defeated. Aazuria’s eyes darted to the warrior’s sunken cheekbones and gaunt face. She saw the bruises on Visola’s neck before her eyes traveled further to the withered, wasted limbs. Every visible part of her friend’s body was covered in fresh scars. She saw the bandaged hands. Visola had been starved and tortured.

Perhaps in these modern times, even under the surface of the sea, kings, queens, and the aristocracy had close to zero significance. Perhaps the words and decrees which left Aazuria’s mouth would have minimal consequences. No one in the throne room felt this way as they awaited Aazuria’s judgment with bated breath. Sionna was standing aside, with her arms crossed. The newly-crowned queen gripped her husband’s sword tightly in her fist as Trevain and Elandria entered the room behind her.

Aazuria shifted her eyes to the man standing beside her friend. Her face was expressionless.

“Approach me, Vachlan,” she whispered.

The man began walking toward her. Although his stride was dignified, there was hesitation on his face. Visola began speaking, pleading words which Aazuria could not hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

When Vachlan was close enough to strike, Aazuria gazed at him with death in her eyes.

“Kneel,” she commanded him. Her chest was rising and falling perceptibly.

Vachlan knew that this would be a very unwise thing to do, but he owed it to Aazuria. He owed it to Visola, and to Adlivun—the nation he had once called home.  He lowered his head and dropped to one knee before the queen, saluting her across his chest. His eyes were level with the sword she held, and he could see the veins bulging through her translucent pale skin from how tightly she clutched it.

“It would be futile to order you punished,” she said slowly. “No one can even attempt to hurt you as much as you have hurt her.”

“I know,” he answered quietly.

“But it is my duty to try.”

She struck out with her sword, slicing the air until the blade collided with his face, knocking Vachlan off his knees and onto the floor. Aazuria could vaguely hear Visola screaming for her to stop, but she was already standing over Vachlan and forcing the tip of her sword between his teeth. Her previous strike had resulted in a huge bleeding gash along the side of his handsome face, but it had not been enough to kill him. She was poised to finish the job.

Vachlan moved his tongue against the steel, tasting the freshly-sharpened metal edge garnished with the metallic taste of his own blood. It is rare that the wine so perfectly accompanies the main dish, he thought as he swallowed the coppery fluid accumulating in his mouth. Kind of like a German Pinot Noir. He looked into the azure eyes of Adlivun’s queen and realized that this was no longer the innocent, charitable philanthropist he had known hundreds of years ago. She was hard. He wondered what percentage of the tempered rage behind her eyes he was responsible for generating.

“One reason.” Aazuria was demanding. “Give me one convincing reason that I should not thrust my blade directly through your skull.”

Nadia Scrieva

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Nadia Scrieva lives in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no pets. She does own a very attractive houseplant which she occasionally remembers to water between her all-consuming writing marathons.






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Thursday, February 27, 2014

PROMO: Insight by Jamie Magee

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Insight - PROMO Bltiz
By Jamie Magee
YA/NA Crossover Paranormal
Date Published:  June 2010



BOOK ONE INSIGHT SERIES

Willow Haywood has always been trapped between the worlds of the Light and the Dark. Her waking hours are plagued by her ability to feel the emotions of those around her. No matter how inward she draws, she cannot shut out the feelings of others. Sometimes she will see images - echoes of other people and places - that she can enter to influence the emotions of people she has never met.

By night, Willow experiences her only escape from this terrible insight - entering into the world of dreams. Most of these dreams are shared in blissful silence with a stunning blue-eyed boy. But every new moon she lives through something much darker: a horrific nightmare shared by another mysterious boy who is always shrouded by shadows.

One night, this shadowy figure invades her dreams outside of his appointed time. In this new nightmare, Willow is marked; a mark which follows her into the waking world and sets her on a momentous path through light and darkness, through fragmented myth and half-truths, through past lives and disturbing family secrets, all in the face of the ever-dominant Zodiac. What she finds will endanger the lives of those closest to her and will force her to make a decision that will change her world forever.

EXCERPT

I felt a blanket of peaceful love with a sense of urgency. The night air in front of me began to move; it looked like a wave gently swaying with a current. A thin light began to emerge then Landen stepped through the wave. I felt the air leave my lungs and adrenaline rush through every part of my body as my heart violently hammered in my chest.
“Landen…” I breathed.
In the darkness, I could see his haunting blue eyes widen, we were both soaked in the emotion of disbelief, along with the fear that this wasn’t real.
In that beat of my heart he’d reached my side. His hands were trembling ever so slightly as they cradled my face, and his thumbs graze the flesh of my cheekbones. He was staring at me like I was a forbidden fruit, like I was every sin in the book, desire washed over that lasting look as he leaned in and let his lips frame mine. When we melded the flesh of our lips together, his hands fell from my face and slowly waved down my body, embracing my flesh, I was doing the same to him. He was warm, he was on fire, I could hear his breaths, hear the sweet sound of our kiss, the way our clothes were moving under our touch. He was real. He was in my arms, and he was driving me wild. That first kiss was nothing compared to this, that was a dream, it was fleeting, it was something that could end at any second, this—this touch, this emotion, this pulsing of my soul was eternal.
He pressed our bodies together and held me with more strength than he had ever displayed. We both sought air more than once, but the other moved closer as soon as that gasp was taken. His warm tongue was uninhabited yet sensual as it danced with mine. I was devouring every sensation he was giving me and wanting more, so much more.
I was trembling with passion, I think he misunderstood that, he slowed our kiss, as one arm went around me and the other cradled my face. His thumb reached to my lips just as his kiss ended, he tenderly caressed the moist, swollen flesh he found there.
 “I found you,” he said with the lips of an angel. His voice was deep and entrancing, those three simple words sounded like poetry as he spoke them. 
 His eyes danced over my image, “I love you.” he said as he leaned in and kissed me once more, this was a sweet kiss, only lips, only warm sensual lips.


 photo 252327_469060119774642_1944695764_n_zps847d0203.jpgJamie Magee

I'm an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite 'shade.' Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for 'marked moments' every moment of everyday...and I find them. Life is beautiful!


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Wednesday, February 26, 2014

PROMO: Blunder Woman by Tanya Eby

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Blunder Woman - PROMO Blitz
By Tanya Eby
Contemporary Romance / Chick Lit / Women's Fiction / Romantic Comedy
Date Published: 1/15/2014
Chloe Knaggs is a bit of a nerd, a bit of a klutz, and all Blunder Woman, especially when it comes to love. Take the love of her life, Matt M. - or as she calls him - Mmm. He's her consummate unboyfriend, meaning, they have all the intimacy of a dating couple without any of the intimacy. Confused? So is Chloe. When Matt decides to elope with the very beautiful, svelte Amber, Chloe goes a little bit crazy and takes her hippy mom and best friend Megan right along with her.

Blunder Woman is a hilarious romp with bright characters through a series of misadventures including a derby party gone horribly wrong, a night of drinking Flaming Turtles, and a fundraising event where the biggest blunder of all occurs. Blunder Woman is funny, fresh, and above all real...in a truly awkward way.

WARNING: "Blunder Woman" will make you snort out loud so drinking while reading is not recommended.

EXCERPT

Two

A Brief (but not brief enough) History About Matt

I met Matt at a group training camp, you know those places to which companies take their awkward employees--employees who don’t get along and work better on their own. So the Company makes everyone go to a weekend long ‘retreat’ which is really a weekend long house-arrest without the little ankle bracelets.
I’ve done these things before.

You have the group leader and you’re locked in a room with your ‘teammates’ (or office workers who usually you have nothing to say to), and then the group leader leads you in an exercise of trust…usually something like falling backwards from a high perch and hoping to God your coworkers catch you. It’s supposed to teach you about trust and the importance of working as a team, but I don’t think it translates at all. During one of these exercises, I actually spend most of the time obsessing about how much I don’t trust my coworkers and how very little I want to fall into their arms. But I digress.

I didn’t want to go to the stupid Employee Esteem Training but I had to. I’d just been hired part-time at the musical society to write grants and organize fundraisers and I had to show that I was part of the team, a real go-getter, a team player. (More on this musical society later. Work is important, but right now I’m talking about the love of my life.) So the team-building thing was mandatory. No go, no job, end of story. So I was very pleased to walk into the Wedgwood Center (a.k.a. The Happy Place) and see a very handsome and very male individual standing in the center of the room, arms open and smiling. Sex appeal came off of him in waves, the way the scent of Axe deodorant pours off high school boys.

I can tell you what he looks like, but it doesn’t do him justice. Descriptions never do, you just end up envisioning a freakish monster with whatever hair and eye color I’ve described and try to think it’s sexy. So instead of saying he was tall and had dirty blonde hair and a wide smile (words that don’t really describe him at all), I’ll say instead that he was a mixture of Jason Bateman of Arrested Development quirkiness, with a Harrison Ford grin, and a body (I imagine) just like an oiled-up man posing in Glamour’s Hot Guy of the Month. This was Matt: sensitive, sexy, warm, sexy, open, funny, sexy, tall, ripped, sexy, and a smile that made me feel like he was looking just at me, even if he was looking at everyone the same way. And he was sexy. Did I say that? Like the kind of guy that should reproduce because, duh, that’s what we’re designed for, right?

I should have known I was in trouble right there. A man you’re attracted to somehow makes your brain stop working. It’s some kind of alien power, I’m sure of it. Attraction equals instant stupidity.

And when he opened his arms and welcomed us, I was ready to do any stupid trust exercise he asked, including the high wire walk between trees, which I did, all the while screaming, “I hate this! I can’t do this! Get me out of this tree!!!” Then I looked down at Matt and felt, somehow, I could do anything. Blammo. He suddenly became my rock, my force, and the new obsession of my life.

Two days later, I called him at his work. I called at 6:30 on a Sunday, certain he wouldn’t be there, and he wasn’t, thank the Gods, so I left a truly awkward message.

“Hi! Matt! This is Chloe!” My voice was so tight and peppy it sounded like I was on helium. “Oh. Chloe from that group you just had, you know, Mozart fundraiser go-go-go! I was the one with the curly shortish reddish hair, the one who talked a lot, the one who screamed ‘FOR GODDSAKES GET ME OUT OF THIS TREE!!!’ Yeah. So I was wondering if you’d like to go out for coffee with me? Scratch that. I don’t drink coffee, but maybe you do. You could get coffee and I could get something else. Tea maybe. Probably hot chocolate. Or maybe just water. And a scone. I like scones. Do you like scones? Yeah. So. I’d like to meet you. For an un-coffee. Okey-dokey? Okay.”

Not only had I actually said “Okey-dokey”, I also hung up without leaving my number. I had to call back and leave another message that I knew he’d get before the previous message so I basically had to repeat the entire thing. It was terrible.
He called me Monday morning.

We had uncoffee on Tuesday. Followed by unlunch (I was too nervous to eat) and an unwalk (we sat on a park bench and talked). I thought, I’ve found him. He’s the One, and leaned in to kiss him. He answered a call on his phone. It was his mom. At the end of our ‘date’ he hugged me to him, told me he loved spending time with me, that I was unlike anyone he’d ever met.
I’d been in love with him ever since.

I’ve loved him for two years. Two years of incredible conversations and ‘undates’. Of having dinner together, and movies, and celebrating each other’s birthday parties. Two years of meeting him for uncoffees and having unsex (meaning elaborate sex fantasies only in my mind), of being at his beck and call. Two years of celebrating holidays not on the holiday, but near it. Of talking about our daily lives on the phone or while curled up watching a movie. And when I stop to think about it, two years of never meeting his friends, never meeting his family, and never, not ever, meeting his penis.

I’ve loved him for two years. Two! I probably love him still. And I hate his guts for that. Really. I do.

 photo Tanya20Eby20Author20_zps600b4206.pngTanya Eby

Tanya Eby is an audiobook narrator and novelist living in Grand Rapids, Michigan with her tiki-obsessed husband and two quirky kids.






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Tuesday, February 25, 2014

PROMO: Undertow by K.R. Conway

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Undertow - PROMO Blitz
By K.R. Conway
Upper YA / NA Urban Paranormal Romance
Date Published: 10/13/2013



Seventeen-year-old Eila Walker’s new home has defied the brutal Atlantic for over 160 years. Abandoned since her 4th great grandmother Elizabeth vanished, the town legend declares that she drowned . . . or was struck by lightning.

Unbeknownst to the town and Eila, however, is that someone does know what really happened to Elizabeth, and he has returned, determined to protect the last surviving Walker from a history of violence.

But what starts out as a quest for redemption, evolves into something more and soon young guardian, Raef, is forced to reveal the truth to Eila. As hidden secrets about their warring families come to light, Eila begins to realize that she may be their best shot at survival, even if it means following in her grandmother’s fearless footsteps to save her killer bodyguard.

EXCERPT

We walked for a couple of minutes, and the pounding music faded to mere background tunes, gently complementing the fires that glowed softer with distance. We found a spot by the dunes near a large home that faced the water. The stretch of beach was probably private, considering the row of huge houses that sat among the tall grass, but I figured the owners would not care as long as we left Fergie and her musical crew farther down the beach.
Raef shook out the blanket and I helped smooth it wide, then sat down and slowly zipped off my boots so I could stick my toes in the cold sand. Raef sat down next to me and looked up at the stars.
He was right.
Away from the blaze of the fires, the stars were all the more brilliant.  The massive moon continued to climb higher, causing the luminous pathway on the water to slowly stretch toward the horizon.  I just smiled at the good fortune that granted me a chance to live here.
I glanced over at Raef and caught him looking at me. “Yes?” I asked, an odd combination of unease and desire flashing through my veins.
“I was just wondering what you were thinking about.”
“I was thinking how amazing this view is, and how unbelievable it is that I get to enjoy it because I live here,” I said, my nerves slowly calming. “It’s just incredible. I’m waiting to wake from this dream.”
I looked back at the stars and then leaned back onto the blanket so I could enjoy the broad view of space,  “Perhaps I’m not really here. Maybe I’m in a coma somewhere and this is just my brain misfiring. I think that is more plausible, especially the way my luck normally runs.”
He leaned down next to me, propping himself on one elbow as he looked at me. “You are not in a coma.”
“Oh yeah? How do you know? Maybe you’re in a coma too. Maybe we had some tragic accident and now we’re both carrots in a hospital bed somewhere.” 
He reached over to my arm and pinched me. I let out a yelp. “What the heck?”
“See? Not vegetables,” he said with a smile, then looked a bit more serious. “This is real. This is your life now.”
I looked at him, debating how to phrase what I was about to say, fearing his answer as well. “And your life? Is this your life as well, or is this temporary?”
He rolled over on his back to study the sky with me, “I think this is my life now as well. Kian and I are not planning on leaving anytime soon.”
I nearly sighed audibly in relief, but managed to control myself. We lay there, staring at the stars and watching the moonrise. Finally he spoke up, “You know, as a true native, you should know your constellations.”
I didn’t follow. “Why is that?”
“Well, Cape Cod is an ocean-going community. Your own grandparents were a big part of that as well. And, as such, knowing how to navigate by the heavens is part of being a native.”
“And I take it, as a brilliant boat-dweller, you know such things?”
“Heck yeah. Care to learn?”
“Go for it, but be forewarned – I am a slow study.”
“Then I guess it is a good thing we don’t have school tomorrow,” he laughed. 
For the next hour, Raef explained the stars and the pictures they made in the sky. He told me about the stories of the gods they represented, and how to find your way based on the characters that rose in the universe nightly. I was pleased when I was able to find Sirius with his help.
“I am a true Cape Codder,” I said proudly, thanks to my limited, but accurate constellation identification. He was silent for a moment as he lay next to me and I turned to him.
He looked at me, eye to eye for a moment, then slowly sat up. “A true Cape Codder needs a badge of belonging,” he said as he looked back at me lying on the faded blanket. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little velvet bag.
Intrigued, I sat up next to him and pulled my chilled feet under me. He reached out and took my hand, unfurling my fingers as he placed the soft bag in my palm.
“What’s this?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“A gift that says you belong to this area,” said Raef, watching me.
I swallowed and slowly untied the black string, tipping the bag upside down into my other hand. A beautiful silver bangle bracelet with a glistening ball in the center slid out into my hand. The ball had a thousand little facets cut into it, making it pulse with moonlight.
“It’s . . . beautiful,” I said, breathless and stunned.
He picked it up and untwisted the ball, causing the bracelet to spring open slightly. He took my other arm and slid the bracelet onto my wrist, then tightened the ball down again to link the hoop together. He turned it slightly so the ball faced the moon, twinkling.
“This is made here. Most locals have one and it’s distinctive to Cape Cod. I wanted you to have one, so that whenever you felt like you didn’t belong, you could look at it and remember that someone says differently.”
I sat there, turning my wrist slightly, watching it shine like the moonlit path on the water. I looked up at Raef, who was watching me with a serious look on his face that I found unsettling and impossible to read.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to understand what this gift from him meant. Was it just a gift of friendship, or something more?
I was about to ask where I stood with him, when the jovial voice of Jesse broke our silence.
“Well HELLO. What are you two doing way out here. In the dark. ALL ALONE,” asked Jesse, a huge smile on his face, directed at me. I may just murder him if he embarrassed me. All I could think of was the way he had watched me check out Raef our first day of school.
Raef got to his feet. He reached down and took my hand, pulling me to mine. “Ana has the music a bit too deafening for my taste,” said Raef with a brief smile.
“Plus we wanted to see the stars better,” I blurted out. Jesse gave me a look that screamed he didn’t believe I had been stargazing. As if to prove I wasn’t lying, I pointed skyward without looking up. “Cepheus. Right above us.”
“Sure,” said Jesse, the smile still on his face. He turned to Raef, “Since you’re out here, can you help me grab a few cases of beer from my house?”
Raef looked at me, as if seeking permission, and Jesse’s smile got even more irritatingly huge. “Go ahead. I’ll just hang out here and wait for you,” I said, sliding Jesse a look of death.
“You sure?” asked Raef.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding toward the house. Raef’s fingertips gently touched mine, but so surreptitiously that Jesse didn’t see. The sensation, so simple, gave me a rush of heat.

K.R. Conway

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Cover Reveal: Bad Boy vs. Millionaire


Bad Boy vs. Millionaire - Cover Reveal
By Candy Starr
New Adult
Date Published: TBA

When fate forced Hannah Sorrento to take on the management of indie rockers, Storm, she managed to survive but, when she found out she'd been played by their mercurial front man, Jack Colt, the betrayal hit her hard.

She flees to Tokyo, where her father orchestrates a deal to save their collapsed financial empire.  A deal that involves a gorgeous millionaire.

Tamaki is everything Jack isn't and, with their similar backgrounds, he and Hannah form a bond.  He offers her safety and security as well as a return to her luxurious lifestyle.  But the passion Jack arouses in Hannah won't be denied.

In the second Bad Boy Rock Star book, Rock Star vs Millionaire, can Hannah forgive Jack or will she take the sanctuary Tamaki offers?

EXCERPT

Jack was in the kitchen, making breakfast. How could a man look so good first thing in the morning? With his tussled hair and baggy pj bottoms… and I didn't even want to think about his arms in that tank top. That curve from his shoulders down his arm. A classically trained ballerina could not move as gracefully as that curve in his muscle as he . If I thought too hard about it, the only decision left in this world would be whether I wanted to trace that indent with my finger tip or my tongue.

"Want a coffee?"

I jumped, hoping he couldn't read my thoughts.

I sat at the kitchen bench with my gaze fixed firmly on my hands.

"So, what's the plan for today?" he asked.

I hadn't really thought about it.

"I guess I should start looking for a place to live."

"You can stay here as long as you like, you know. It's okay." He grinned at me. I'd add that to my collection of the other four or five genuine Jack Colt smiles I'd got in this life.

"With you sleeping on the couch, I don't think so."

The words hung in the air. Emotions flitting over both our faces, words we didn't want to put out there. Jack didn't have to sleep on the couch. I had taken over his bed and that bed had a huge Jack Colt-shaped emptiness that had haunted my dreams.

He squeezed by me to get cups out of the cupboard. In the small kitchen space, I couldn't help but be aware of his physical closeness, the feeling of his body almost brushing against mine and the smell of his skin that even the fresh coffee couldn't hide. I wanted to press against him and feel his heat. I wanted him to be mine to touch and caress but he wasn't. Too many questions hung over us. He'd told me that he wanted me, he wanted to be with me but I still had no idea if I could trust him.

I moved to sit on the sofa, putting some space between us.

Maybe I should just ask, I thought. Bring it all out into the open. Tell him how I felt, my fears and worries. Let him know what was holding me back. But the words didn't exist in me. This wasn't some talk show. We were real people and real people didn't let it all out. They held it deep inside, hugging it to themselves. When you told people how you felt, that gave them the power.

If I was a normal girl, I'd have these straight forward emotions that I could talk about. I'd be able to lay it out on the table, take it or leave it. But, instead my emotions squirmed inside me, burrowing deeper and deeper.


Candy Starr
 photo candy_zpseb97f9bd.jpgCandy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. “Screw you,” she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity – totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She’s seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She’s seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction.

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Monday, February 24, 2014

PROMO Blitz: Earthwalker by Kellie Wallace

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Earthwalker - PROMO Blitz
By Kellie Wallace
Urban Fantasy
Date Published: 1/29/2014

Noah is an angel whose job relies on collecting human souls who aren’t ready to leave their vessels. To his brothers Michael and Gabriel, he is just another rookie, earning his arch angel wings. When Noah catches an earth bound demon in his form stealing a soul, he is sent back to Heaven to plead his case. But no one believes him. He is banished from heaven for a crime he didn’t commit, given one year on earth to find the demon responsible for his framing. If he fails to do so, he will be dragged to hell for eternity.
On his first day on earth he meets publishing assistant Fern Holliday who helps him get back on his feet. She is reluctant in getting close to him, but agrees to help Noah find the demon. By following the signs Michael sends him, Noah and Fern travel the world in search of the demon. They grow closer every day until Fern is struck down by a mystery illness. Noah is at loss at what to do as her condition worsens. Before the year is up and he returns to heaven empty handed the demon appears agreeing to be taken back, only if Noah takes Fern’s soul to Lucifer. Will he follow the strict rules of heaven or succumb to his heart? Meanwhile Lucifer’s army is growing stronger.

EXCERPT

Noah entered the hospital foyer and shivered, his wet woollen coat dripping water onto the laminate floor. Around him people moaned, writhing in pain or comforted loved ones. He always hated coming to hospitals, the trip often leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
A young nurse engrossed in her paperwork passed him unaware of his stained clothes, wet from the rain. He must have stunk, having spent most of the night shivering in an alleyway, gaining the courage to come inside the building. He gazed at the nurses behind the reception desk taking calls and admitting new patients. They wouldn’t notice if he snuck down the hall to Room 205.
He inadvertently lifted a hand to caress his left shoulder, branded with a handprint of an archangel. It stung tonight meaning his next soul was nearby. He remembered the night he’d gotten the brand, lying on his bathroom tiles dying of a heroin overdose in 1965. He didn’t see who’d grabbed him from near death but he did remember their grip on his shoulder, their fingers boiling his skin like plastic. His soul, ripped from his body, pulled through the ceiling and into the stars. He woke up days later, hovering over a dead body. He didn’t recognise them, or how they died but somehow he knew what to do. He rested his hand upon their shoulder and was temporarily impaired by a bright light. It was gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind a feeling of euphoria. Whatever he had done felt right. A baby’s cry snapped Noah back to reality, back to the dripping coat and the chill in his bones. The smell of the hospital nauseated him. He tapped his notepad against his chest and remembered the job he had to do. He wandered down the hall passing the dead or dying in their hospital beds. They were not his tonight.
When he approached Room 205, he fished in his pocket and withdrew his leather-bound notepad. Embossed in gold was the name of his next soul. Damien Jacobs. According to Noah’s Intel from Heaven, the man had terminal cancer, dead for at least an hour. But his soul was still affixed to the hospital, not ready to leave Earth.
Noah pressed a hand against the door and searched the halls. A nurse ducked into a room nearby, a patient hung by the cafeteria. No one paid him any attention, so he turned invisible, sucking energy from the objects around him. Reaping souls took stamina and energy, draining him quickly. He had a short window of time before he materialised again.
Noah stepped into the room and paused to listen to the sound of weeping. Damien lay dead in his bed, tubes still attached to his lifeless body. After all these years as an angel, he could never forget the colour of the human skin once a soul left the body. The fragile area around Damien’s eyes appeared transparent and elastic. His family sat around him, hunched over, each gripping onto a piece of his blanket, desperate to capture his soul before it left his body. Noah saw movement in the corner of his eye. Damien stood beside him in a white hospital robe, his face blank and deadpan. “Am I dead?”
Noah froze, knowing his answer could change Damien’s fragile frame of mind. When a soul is fresh from the body, there was no telling whether they would be agitated or bitter about their death. It all came down to the first interaction. An angel must treat them as though they were still alive, human.
He took a steady step towards Damien, his hand out stretched. “I am afraid it is true. But you must come with me now,” he said gently.


Kellie Wallace

 photo Kellie20Wallace20author20pic_zps17f08074.jpgBorn in Sydney, Australia Kellie Wallace developed a love for the written word early in life, recalling her earliest memory when she was three years old. Her father used to read to her when she was a child, establishing a deep love and respect for books. Kellie wrote a bit in high school, most memorably her first fantasy book called Giblin the Conquer, an X Files fan fiction and a military fiction. She didn’t write another word until 2007.
After finishing high school, Kellie moved to the sunny Northern Beaches from the Central Coast and carved a successful career in the media/advertising industry writing for numerous Sydney based publications.
An aspiring novelist, Kellie fulfilled a dream in 2008 having her first book All She Ever Wanted published by Zeus Publications at the age of 22 years old.
In 2013, Kellie released her next catalogue of books Darkness before Dawn, Skylark. In her spare time she loves to write, game and draw. Her first crime fiction novel To lean of falling men will be out in 2014, along with EarthWalker and dystopian Edge of Tomorrow.

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PROMO Blitz: Scarlet Revenge by Ann McGinnis

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Scarlet Revenge - PROMO Blitz
By Ann McGinnis
Date Published: January 21, 2014
Romantic Suspense


The FBI doesn’t know what to do with Analyst Caycee Scarlet. She’s brash, brilliant & brutally relentless when tracking a serial killer. But she also has a temper, problems with authority figures and recognizing the chain of command.

Things go sideways for Caycee when she uncovers a lead that saves the Omega Killer’s latest victim. Rather than working the system and making nice with her pompous boss, sparks fly and she gets into an altercation with the lead Special Agent on the case, resulting in a transfer to another assignment.

Caycee finds herself transferred to an FBI interrogation facility where she assesses the most dangerous of criminals in custody. She struggles to get over the loss of her dream job, but her new boss, handsome Special Agent Gil Graham, may soften the blow. Sparks, of a different variety, fly between the Special Agent and his new Analyst, as they work together to crack the most difficult cases.

Just when Caycee’s wounds are healing from her expulsion on the Omega Killer team, she is dragged back into the thick of it. Caycee and her new team are front and center, focused on an interview of a bombing suspect, when Omega comes looking for revenge. His attack wounds her team, leaving Caycee with only one option for help—the devastatingly handsome bombing suspect. It will take all of Caycee’s wits, and a kiss for luck, to stop Omega and save her co-worker.

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Our steps echoed down the stark hallway. Clean. Institutional. And utterly amazing. Caycee Scarlet was finally walking along the hallowed hallways of the FBI. It was a good day for me.
"Say nothing, Scarlet," Special Agent in Charge Tony Wilkes ordered. He threw me a look over his shoulder. "Even if someone asks you a question, keep your mouth shut." He laughed to himself. "No one will ask you a question.”
Wilkes had already made it clear that I was the newest member of the Omega Killer Task Force. As such, I should listen more than talk, act fast when given orders, and let the seasoned team members guide my every move. It seemed like the equivalent of an FBI-whipping boy. Or girl, in my case. I didn’t care. Everyone started at the bottom. I was ready to put in the time needed to earn their respect.
At least, I looked good in a form-fitting black suit. It was more than I could afford, but I figured I would live in the outfit. Besides, it sent a message. I valued my appearance, even if I had to dress like a man, I'd still look like a woman.
I'd had the suit cut to fit my curves, which were on the athletic side. My auburn hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail. It hung past my shoulders, showing off my best feature – my eyes. As a window into my soul, they were unflinching. I did admire my own intelligence, probably a character flaw, but hopefully that wouldn’t show in my eyes. The traits I wanted to show: no nonsense, quick witted, relentless.
"You get the crap jobs," Wilkes said, acting as if his honesty was attractive. A few hours in the gym and hair implants, maybe. Not that I didn’t find bald men attractive, just not this one. "I can't lie," he continued, "we'll be throwing you every crap job that this case delivers, but you're on a big case. That don't happen to many newbies."
I wasn't that new, but I guessed he didn’t count the eight months of testing and background checks. I did. Or my training at Quantico. It all counted to me.
The agency gave us two years to prove ourselves. After that, candidates either earned their spot or were let go. I couldn't imagine putting in all that time and failing.
I had a feeling success would require long hours and serious ass-kissing. I just needed to find someone with a cute ass. It sure wasn't Wilkes.
We passed three large rooms filled with personnel. One looked to be the size of a football field filled with cubicles. “You’ll be in here,” Wilkes waved, “but first I want you to see the Dugout.”
He led me to a large conference room, its walls filled with crime photos, running news feeds and a huge whiteboard for pertinent case data. “The Omega Killer is priority number one,” Wilkes said, opening the conference room door for me. “This is where the main players are at bat.”
I slowed at the door, sensing a real sports theme to the way he liked to operate. Perhaps one day, I’d be his most valuable player. It looked competitive, though. Wilkes’s team already consisted of veteran agents and analysts. They seemed a cohesive group, working in unison to stop a psychotic killer.
Wilkes quickly ran through Omega’s deadly stats, but he didn’t need to bother. I knew the case inside and out. Killers were my hobby.
I made the mistake of saying that to a date once. I never saw a man escape faster, admonishing me by exclaiming: “You’re sick, truly sick.” Hopefully, my academic interest in killers wouldn’t repel men in the FBI.
Not that I was here to find a man, but I was twenty-eight and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere in this organization was my perfect match. After all, I needed a man who liked to catch killers.
“Are you listening to me?” Wilkes sounded irritated.
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “The Omega Killer marks his victims’ forehead with the sign of the Omega. All indications are that it signals the moment he’s ready to make the fatal cut, into his victim’s left breast. Such a wound, based on other serial killers, suggests Omega has mommy issues, but I personally believe that it signals a desire to find love.”
Wilkes made a face at me. Clearly he did not care for my analysis. “That’s not what I was talking about. Geez, he wants to find love? Table that thought, quickly, and get back in the game.”
He raised his arms, showing off the Dugout. "Welcome to the nerve center of our investigation. We call this the show," he said, then clapped his hands together to get the room’s attention. "Everyone, this is Intelligence Analyst Caycee Scarlet."
The agents, analysts and techs turned from their work. Some at laptops along one side of a long mahogany conference table and others working on reports across from them. Several agents were standing, talking in a small group. They barely looked over at me, too busy for someone below them on the FBI food chain. The analysts nodded an acknowledgement. Matter-of-fact. No smiles. No words of welcome.
I gave a half-hearted nod to the room, hoping I'd make a better impression later. Probably much later, if I was reading the total lack of interest correctly. It must be the pressure of catching Omega. Tension hung in the room. With twelve victims to date, catching the killer had them all wound up.
Wilkes pointed to a side table stacked with boxes. The top one filled with old cell phones, victim personal effects and police reports. "We need them properly catalogued. You know, a searchable database. I’m told you were the most anal student in your class. Go at it."
His voice trailed off, but I didn't know if he'd stopped talking or I'd stopped listening. Maybe a little of both, because I read the whiteboard. One of the hand-scribbled numbers was written incorrectly.
Without thinking, I went over to the board and used the heel of my right hand to wipe off an area code. Everyone in the room stopped working and screamed at me.
"What have you done?" Wilkes shouted louder than anyone else.
I came out of my trance and blinked at him. Whatever I said next could make or break me, so I said nothing.
"Every piece of information is vital to solving the case," he scolded. He turned to the room. "Can we fix it? What was that number?"
Blank stares.
I quickly picked up a dry erase marker and wrote the numbers back on the board. It was only three digits.
Screams went up all around me again.
"What?" I asked. "That's the number I erased. But it's wrong. It's a phone number, right? Someone transposed the area code. 3-7-1 is not an area code, but 7-3-1 is New Jersey."
No one screamed at me that time, but their looks were deadly.
"Is that right?" Wilkes asked the room. His eyes darted from the whiteboard to the closest agent. He wanted confirmation before his head exploded.
"Shit," the agent said.
Wilkes grabbed his head.
The agent couldn't look at me. "She's right, sir.”
“Okay, we’re okay, fix it and double-check everything that goes on the board, people,” Wilkes barked.
The agent took the dry erase marker from me and fixed the numbers. Wilkes waved two fingers at a petite woman with raven hair twisted into a bun. “Take care of this.” He pointed at me.
FBI Analyst Nina Dunbar instantly responded. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a stack of boxes, indicating with her elbow that I was to take the rest. “Follow me,” she sighed. “Consider this your first and last favor.”
I shot a glance at Wilkes, but he already had his nose in a file folder, barking orders to the closest agent. He had no time for me. No one did. I exited the conference room, utterly deflated by my welcome to the FBI.


Ann McGinnis

 photo Ann20Photo_zps844d346c.jpgAnn McGinnis started writing romantic suspense to combine two things— thrillers & foreplay! Connect with Ann and upcoming news about the Scarlet Suspense Series:


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