Thursday, April 23, 2015

RELEASE BLITZ: Rewriting History by Carly Grey, Missy Johnson

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Rewriting History
Publication Date: November 3, 2014
Genres: ContemporaryRomance

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Love begins with attraction and our attraction started in an online chat room. The beauty of the internet is you can be whoever you want to be. I can let my guard down and show who I really am. I’m no longer the shy girl who doesn’t fit in. I’m someone with a purpose, someone worth listening to. I’m someone worth loving. The world doesn’t need to know I’m only seventeen. One little lie about my age isnt going to hurt. Eli is everything I’ve ever wanted in a relationship. He’s funny, sweet and so damn sexy. We’ve never met, but our connection is strong. He wants to meet me and more than anything I want to meet him. I want to feel him in my arms, I want to see if our relationship is as strong in person as it is online. So we do. And it is. It’s wonderful and amazing and everything I hoped it would be. But in the chat room, I told a little white lie about something significant. And lies, however big or small, always catch up with you. Mine caught up with me in my History Classroom.

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About Missy Johnson

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Missy lives in a small town in Central Victoria with her husband, and her confused pets (a dog who think she’s a cat, a cat who thinks he’s a dog…you get the picture). When she’s not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.

About Carly Grey

Carly Grey lives on the Gold Coast with her hubby & 2 cats and has a passion for romance novels.

RELEASE BLITZ: THE WILD SIDE (The Complete Trilogy) by R.K. Lilley



THE WILD SIDE
(The Complete Trilogy)
Author: R.K. Lilley






The Wild Side (The Wild Side #1)

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Alasdair Masters is in a rut. He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact. 

His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world. A very young blonde. Way, way too young for him. The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more. 

It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down.  What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life? 

At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive. 

Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his on track or a disaster in the making? Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him? Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?







IRIS (The Wild Side #2)
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ARE YOU READY FOR A TWIST? 

Who is Iris? Where did she come from? Where has she gone? 

Alasdair Masters has more questions than answers about his new, too young obsession, and when he finds out she’s been lying to him, from their first meeting to their last one, he’s more confused than ever about her feelings, her intentions. 

And what’s just as confusing are his own feelings. Has he turned something purely physical into something emotional in his own head? Is any of it mutual? 

The only thing he doesn’t question is whether he’ll keep going back for more. 

DAIR 
Me, I was simple. I was order. A very neat, efficient machine that ran on nothing but air. 

Me plus anyone else, well, that was another matter. And me plus Iris, that was a monster of a machine, with all gears going at different speeds, some spinning off their hinges, just going mad, but it was a wonderful madness, at full throttle, misfiring in all directions. 

It felt wonderful and dreadful. 
I was breaking down, and it felt amazing. 
And terrifying. 

This book is intended for readers 18 and up







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ARE YOU READY FOR THE TRUTH?

I’d started writing everything about her down. I didn’t want to forget.
The color of her hair. The depth of her eyes. The stubborn shape of her jaw. The way her lips shaped words with such expression. The way her voice made my chest ache. The way she gave advice beyond her years. 
The way she listened like she cared about every word.

The way she made me feel—Alive.

Every curve and hollow of her body was recorded, in my mind, and now my hard drive. 
There was a bit of truth in every lie, and even if it had only been fed to me in the smallest increments, I wanted, needed to remember the real Iris.

Because in the end, there was one irrefutable thing that I couldn’t deny.

Hostage or hustler, sinner or saint, whatever she was or wasn’t, whether she lied to my face or taunted me with hints of the truth, all of this seemed always to defer to the more pertinent fact at hand.

She was mine. 
Inconceivably. 
Undeniably. 
Mine.

After yet another shocking discovery, followed by a disturbing letter, Dair is almost certain Iris has left his life for good. He tries his best to move on. 
Easier said than done, and when an unexpected and dangerous opportunity arises for him to find out what happened to her, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. 
As usual, with Iris, the answer leaves him more lost than the question. 
Every revelation is shrouded in mystery, and every disclosure leaves Dair more in the dark than ever. 
And when finally, the messy truth is revealed in its entirety, will he be ready for it?

This is the final installment in Iris and Dair’s story
This book is intended for readers 18 and up.





DAIR

TWO MONTHS AFTER THE FALLING OUT


I had a bit of a nervous breakdown after Iris left without a trace. 

It was the strangest thing, but I suddenly didn’t like my own company so much. 

In fact, I began to hate it, even at home. 

I still went to the gym at the exact same time, every single day, in the small hope that she’d show again. She didn’t, but I kept going, because I wanted to see her again. 

She hadn’t been in my life for long, but I missed her. 

Being that I couldn’t stand my own company, I began to reconnect with old friends, people I hadn’t talked to since the divorce, the friends I’d chalked up to losses in the breakup; Tammy’s assets when we’d been chopping our combined life in half. 

For some reason, they all seemed very happy to hear from me. I felt like a jerk for going into full hermit mode and attempted to have something of a social life again. 

I’d often meet up with another writer friend for coffee or lunch after my workout, telling myself that if I just kept working at it—being a normal person, with normal social habits—it wouldn’t feel so forced. 

And it was true. Two months post Iris, and I was looking forward to having coffee with my friend, Benji. 

He was already sitting at a table as I entered the cafĂ© a few shops down from my gym. 

I waved at him, saw he had an extra coffee for me, and bypassed the line to go directly to him. 

He slid me the cup as I sat down. 

“You make your deadline?” I asked him. Like me, he was a neurotic, work obsessed writer, and so we always had something to talk about. It was good. Distractions were good. The more the better. The more plates spinning the better, these days.

He nodded with a grin, pushing his thick glasses up high on his nose, and sweeping his light brown hair away from his face. He was a good seven years my junior, with a lean, nerdy look that I thought suited him. He wore it well. “How about you? I know you were early on your publisher’s deadline, but how is your indie project coming along?” 

“Good. Good. My word count is flowing faster than ever. I should be done in about four weeks.” 

He whistled. “Will you sell it to the publisher, if they decide they like it and make you a good offer?” 

I shrugged. “I doubt it. This whole project is an experiment for me. It won’t be much fun if I don’t get to at least see how making seventy percent compares to making, yanno, eight.” 

He shook his head, smiling wryly. “You’re forgetting your advance. You can’t tell me they don’t give you plenty up front.” 

I shrugged again. “Like I said, this one is an experiment. I doubt even my publisher can sway me, and it’s not exactly written in the genre I’m known for, so they wouldn’t write me a big check for it, anyway.” 

“You’re probably right.” He sighed. “I envy you the flexibility to do what you want. Some of us are still writing just to pay the bills.” 

We sipped coffee and talked shop for a bit. We were just getting ready to leave when he suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, looking at something behind me. 

I turned to see what it was, and an electric fire went off in my brain at the sight that met my eyes. 

Setting my jaw hard, I turned carefully away. 

So the back of that blonde woman in line resembled Iris, so what? 

This wasn’t the first time my brain had tricked me into thinking she was somewhere close. 

But it was never her. I’d see some young blonde thing out of the corner of my eye and turn to stare until I met a stranger’s blank stare. 

Not today. Today I was going to ignore the urge to obsess. It wasn’t her, just some young woman with a great body. She wasn’t even dressed correctly, wearing a pleated skirt and a belted, collared blouse. 

Iris wouldn’t be caught dead in business attire. 

“Holy fucking shit, man. Did you see that chick?” Benji asked, his tone reverent. 

My mouth quirked up in a rueful smile. Even the most civilized men turned into mouth-breathers if a hot enough woman walked into the room. 

“I did.” I took a long sip of coffee, watching Benji, who just kept watching the woman in line, forcing myself, with great effort, to stifle the urge to turn around again. “Nice ass,” I noted. 

“Yes. But you need to turn around and check out the rest of her. Huge titties, man.” 

I rolled my eyes. There was a bit of a generation gap between us. My generation thought shit like that, but then we kept it to ourselves, like grown-ups. 

“Big soft tits,” he continued, “in a semi-sheer white blouse. Fuuuck. She’s got a tan. How many articles you think I need to write to bang a chick that out of my league?” 

“A lot,” I mused, still staying firmly with my back to the woman in question. 

“Like how many is a lot?” 

“What do you make? Like five hundred an article? I’d say about two thousand of those, minimum. If she’s as hot as she looked from the back, though, you’d need to be well into the millionaire club before she’d give you the time of day, so more like five thousand articles, realistically.” 

His eyes were wide as he finally looked away from the hot chick and back to me. “Really? That is fucking depressing, dude.” 

I shrugged. “Yeah. But the really sad part is you’d have to spend a good chunk of that cash on her, if you wanted her to stay around for any length of time.”

He shook his head. “I think you’ve gone cynical, after Tammy.”

I couldn’t dispute that. Not a bit. “You may be right. What can I say? Divorce messes with your head.” I didn’t bring up Iris. I hadn’t told him about her. “Why don’t you go ask her out, if you’re so certain I’m wrong?” 

He laughed. “I didn’t say you were wrong, I said you were cynical, and so am I. That chick is out of my league, period. I need more money to bag a woman like that. Or at the very least, better looks and a bigger dick. And look at that, fuck, she’s already leaving. I was hoping she’d sit down to drink her coffee, and let me look at her for a few more minutes.” 

“Maybe you were creeping her out. You’ve barely taken your eyes off her since she walked in the door.”

He didn’t even seem to hear me. “Oh, no, wait, she’s only going to the bathroom. I thought it was weird she was leaving without her order. Did you see her shoes, man? Those are some ‘fuck-me’ stilettos. And her hair is in this tight bun, and she’s wearing sexy librarian glasses. Will you please turn and look when she comes back out? I will drop the subject if you will just get a better view of her and agree with me that she’s a ten.”

“Nope. Not doing it. That poor girl does not need us both creeping out on her. I’ll take your word for it.”

That seemed to settle the matter. He dropped it.

His phone rang; he checked the screen and started cursing. “I’ve got to run. Same time next week?” 

I nodded, and he left. I didn’t move and still didn’t turn around. I had that feeling, a tingle on my neck, like I was being watched from behind, and I was again talking myself out of obsessing about Iris. 

But burned in my brain was the image of the back of that woman, and in spite of myself, I was comparing. 

And a small part of me was enjoying the torture of imagining it could be her, that she would find me again. 

Finally, I cracked, turning to look, thinking that the woman must have left, so I should just get it over with, like pulling off a Band-Aid. 

And there she was. 

There was Iris, standing only feet away, holding a cup of coffee and watching me, her expression very blank. She was wearing sexy librarian glasses, her hair in a tight bun, just like Benji had said. 

And it really was her, in the flesh. 

She wore white, and her clothes were fitted enough to show off every lush curve. Her mouthwatering breasts were clearly outlined, the buttons of her blouse open enough to show an extravagant amount of cleavage. 

How had I forgotten just how stunning she was? How captivating? 

Her large breasts were even more exceptional than I remembered, as though I’d dreamt her up as a comic book version of herself. 

Iris squared. 

The moment our eyes met, she began to move, walking with easy grace to sit across from me.

She looked cold, so icy blonde and beautiful, like some mix of Marilyn Monroe and Grace Kelly. 

Terrible and beautiful. 

It felt like fatal voltage to my chest just to look at her like that.

It was Iris, but Iris as a stranger. No, it was worse than that. It was like she was a curious, wild, imaginary creature, with the pieces of her just now put together, invented for my eyes, not how I remembered at all, because even when she’d been angry, she had never been cold.

Then she smiled, and it was her again, all traces of the cold stranger gone. 

Which one was the real Iris?

“Hello, Dair.” 

I swallowed hard and saw her eyes dart to my throat.

“Hello, Iris.” 

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

“The sound of my voice?” My voice caught on the question awkwardly, breaking slightly on the last word. 

She had such a talent for catching me off guard.

“Yes. You have the best voice, like a stern school teacher.”

My brain short-circuited for a bit before I could respond. “You say the most outrageous things.”

She laughed, and its tinkling sound felt like velvet across the back of my neck. “Is that all you have to say to me, after all this time?” she asked quietly. 

“I’m sorry for all the things—”

“I don’t want you to take those things back, if you still believe them, and besides, that’s not what I meant. Don’t you have anything else to say to me?” 

I took a few deep breaths. “Where have you been? And why are you back now?” 

“That’s not what I meant, either. And I don’t want to talk about that. Didn’t you miss me?” 

She reached a hand across the table, and I found one of mine grasping it, lacing our fingers tightly together. 

My eyes squeezed shut. It felt very good to touch her again, even just her hand. “Yes, Iris, I missed you very much.” 

“There you go. Was that so hard? I missed you, too. You look good.” She tugged her hand away, and my eyes opened to follow its retreat. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” 

She looked like she was trying not to smile. “Like what?” 

“Like a professional. Why are you wearing glasses? What are you doing? Where did you go? Where have you been?” 

She glanced around, and the way she did it struck me as more than a little paranoid. “Want to go for a walk?” 

My heart started pounding hard. 

I didn’t hesitate. 

“Of course I do,” I said, absolutely no thought required. 

I’d take a walk with her anytime, anywhere. 

She smiled, taking off those sexy glasses. “Well, then, let’s get out of here.”









R.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She's had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She's been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.








RELEASE BLITZ: Lust by Leddy Harper

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Lust… My darkness was born in it. Her secret was created by it. My job was immersed in it. It would either ruin us or save us.
My name is Caden Morgan, and I am a sex surrogate. After years of seclusion and fear-induced abstinence, Ivy Jaymes came to me to fix her. Her love of erotic books brought her out of hiding and into my office. I had done this sort of thing hundreds of times… but she was different. Ivy’s secrets threatened my own. Her darkness paralleled mine. And my obsession for her was sure to break me.
Could we heal each other with love? Or would we end up decimating one another with Lust?

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About the author
Leddy
Leddy Harper had to use her imagination often as a child. She grew up the only girl in a house full of boys. At the age of fourteen, she decided to use that imagination and wrote her first book, and never stopped.
She often calls writing her therapy, using it as a way to deal with issues through the eyes of her characters. She is now a mother of three girls, leaving her husband as the only man in a house full of females. The decision to publish her first book was made as a way of showing her children to go after whatever it is they want to. Love what you do and do it well. Most importantly Leddy wanted to teach them what it means to overcome their fears.

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COVER REVEAL: Wet by Stacy Kestwick

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Title: Wet 

Author: Stacy Kestwick 

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Release Date: May 7 

Cover Design: Hang Le

wet KINDLE     Synopsis
Doughnuts were her weakness. If Sadie Mullins hadn’t been running on the beach to burn off the calories from her doughnut addiction, she wouldn’t have noticed the man not moving out in the water. Wouldn’t have dived in after him. Wouldn’t have met West Montgomery. The cocky bastard should have been thankful, grateful even. Of course, he wasn’t. That should have been the end of it. Of course, it wasn’t. Damn doughnuts. 
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 I woke up slowly to the sound of panting. Hot, damp air was puffing rhythmically against my face. When something wet poked my cheek a few seconds later, I jerked away reflexively. Confused, I cracked my eyes open blearily and staring back at me were saddest, droopiest brown eyes I had ever seen. What the hell? I smothered a scream and struggled to sit up in bed. Blinking against the sledgehammer banging in my skull, I fell back to my elbow and realized two things at once. One, I knew those eyes. General Beauregard was staring back at me forlornly, opening his mouth in a huge yawn, drool stretching between his jowls. Two, I was most definitely not in my own bed. Looking down to see a tattooed arm draped over my hips, I was slower to realize the most important fact. I wasn’t alone in the bed either. The arm moved into a stretch, and the man next to me yawned too. West. My elbow fell out from under me, and I laid on my back staring at the ceiling, trying to force my sluggish brain to work. What the fuck happened when I left Grady’s? West leaned over me to rub General Beauregard’s ears. “Morning, boy. You ready to go out?” West’s voice was a raspy rumble that resonated through me. His bare chest pressed against my left side, and if I lifted myself up the smallest fraction, I’d be able to lick his shoulder. I closed my eyes against the temptation and took a deep breath. I smelled soap, salt, and citrus. I smelled West. I swallowed back a moan. General Beauregard let out a soft whine of pure bliss and laid his head heavily against me. When I turned to glance at him, his tongue swiped my cheek and his tail thumped against the floor. West laughed softly and gave the dog one last pat. “I know, buddy. She does look good first thing in the morning.” My cheeks warmed. And other parts of me did too. His arm brushed against my breasts as he pulled it back, and my nipples budded in response. He flipped back the covers on his side and padded quietly across the room to a set of sliding glass doors, opening one enough so that the hound slipped out. The sunrise peeked over the ocean through the glass, but it barely registered before my eyes returned to West. He stood looking out the door in just a pair of boxer briefs. He was all golden skin and lean, ropy muscle and a tight, tight ass hugged by some thin black fabric. I was jealous of that fabric. As he turned back to face me, the grooved definition of his abs was on display, his torso narrowing to a tempting V before disappearing. My eyes dropped lower, taking in the prominent bulge in his shorts. Maybe I was still dreaming. That would explain everything but the jackhammer in my skull. The light dimmed as he drew the curtains and shut out the light. Slipping back into bed and covering his lower half back up, he turned on his side and faced me, one arm tunneling under the pillow beneath his head, the other resting between us. I stared at his fingers and tried to focus. I dida quick inventory of my body. My head was pounding, but the darkened room helped. My stomach was clenching, but I blamed that more on the view than the hangover. I tensed my legs experimentally. My thighs felt… fine. Not sore at all. What did that mean? Had the sex been bad? Or maybe he had been like Jared, and the act had been over so fast that my muscles never even got a workout. “Coffee,” I croaked, turning away from him. I couldn’t be expected to think clearly without coffee. I sat up on the side of the bed and swayed dizzily for a moment. Jesus Christ, my head. Looking down, I saw I was only wearing one of the logoed bar shirts from the Wreck and my underwear. My cutoffs were on the floor near the end of the bed and I slid them on quickly, grateful for the oversized length of the shirt. Without looking back, I slipped from the room, figuring the kitchen couldn’t be that hard to find. Sure enough, it was just down the hall and to the right. I pushed my wild hair out of my face and squinted around the too-bright room. Morning light filtered through curtainless windows and glinted off the oversized stainless steel fridge. I reached for my wrist, but apparently my hair tie had disappeared along with the rest of my clothes. Coffee. I smelled it. I had to be close. Turning around farther, I spotted it. Just past the retro enamel toaster, a glass pot sat beneath the small coffee maker, filled halfway with steaming brown liquid gold. . I plucked a cup out of the sink, not caring if it was clean or dirty, and filled it to the brim. Leaning back against the counter, I inhaled deeply, trying to expel the smell of West from my mind. As I took my first tentative sip, Wyatt walked into the room, wearing only board shorts. I swallowed the wrong way, coughing and sputtering before setting the cup down behind me, my lungs burning. What was it about these guys that messed with my basic ability to breathe properly? And what the fuck was Wyatt doing here? Wyatt reached around me to pour himself a cup. “Mornin’,” he said, smiling at me knowingly, his eyes running down the length of my body. I stared at him in dawning horror. Oh. My. God. Did I have a threesome last night?   Wet-teasers-2   Author Bio 
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I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.
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BLOG TOUR: Driven by Destiny by Eve Carter

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I’ve been burned! Again! I should know better than to let down my guard when it comes to matters of the heart, especially with regards to Lauren Mitchell.
A night in jail left Aedyn Cumberland feeling dejected, bitter and used by Lauren Mitchell. The only way forward is to return to Chicago and the impossible task of tearing Lauren out of his heart, for the second time in his life.
Meanwhile, in Granger, Lauren stands up for herself and makes a dangerous decision to take control of her destiny, clearing the way for a relationship with Aedyn. She only hopes it’s not too late.
Just when everything seems to be moving forward for Lauren, disaster strikes. No one realizes exactly how far, Chip Harrison, her former boyfriend is willing to go to save his own reputation.
Don’t miss the thrilling continuation to Flirting With Destiny by New York Times Best selling author, Eve Carter
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** DESTINY SERIES **
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Abutton About the author
I am a true romantic at heart and with a modern contemporary erotic twist to my romance novels, you had better fasten your seat belt, as the ride is always fun, exciting and fiery. Living in Southern California, but a mid-westerner at heart, I find plenty of inspiration for my books in my own exciting life. I have always loved the arts and as a young girl, I took dance classes and spent the summers reading books from the local library. Fascinated with the written word and its power to guide the imagination, I started writing short stories and later took Creative Writing classes in college. I graduated from The University of Iowa with a B.A. in Journalism and an M.A. in Higher Education. I also have a Teaching Credential from Chapman University in Southern California.
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