Monday, July 27, 2015

Cover Reveal: Reckless Surrender by R.C. Martin




Title: Reckless Surrender
Series: Made For Love #2
Author: R.C. Martin
Genre: New Adult Romance
Cover Design: Louisa at LM Creations
 Release Date: August 4, 2015



Blurb

[Reckless Surrender is book two in the Made for Love series but can be read as a STAND ALONE novel. Written for audiences 18+ years of age.]
 

Three and a half years ago, Daphne walked into my shop, kicked open the door to my soul, invited herself inside, and got comfortable. By the time I realized she’d made herself at home, it was too late to kick her out. Now, I’m in love with her. But I’m not her boyfriend. She’s not my lover. We’re just friends…

Trevor’s it for me. I love him so much it drives me crazy. But we’re broken—two battered people whose souls have been ravaged by the world. We decided a long time ago that we wanted to love each other but not attempt to fix one another. Instead, we give each other as much as we can. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s ever going to be enough…

I don’t want to be her bandaid.


I don’t want to be his addiction.

But if we never cross that line, will I lose her?

If I don’t tell him what I want, will I lose myself?






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Excerpt

I twist my bangs back away from my face and pin them in place before washing off today’s makeup. I feel completely plain without it, but it’s also refreshing to be rinsed clean and I know present company doesn’t mind. Speaking of which, I’m glad I get to keep him for the night. I love it when that happens. We don’t exactly make a habit of it, but I always sleep better cocooned in his arms. It makes me feel like I’m his. I guess in some ways I am, even though I’m not. I certainly don’t belong to anyone else. I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else—even if being with Trevor without actually being with Trevor one day breaks my heart.
 
I shake the thought away, aware that I’m starting to think too much. He’s here, now, and that’s what he can give me. Besides that, it’s more than anyone else gets. This is how it is between us. It works.
 
I stop just inside the doorway of my bedroom, caught off guard by what awaits. Or should I say, who? I have to stifle a small gasp at the sight of him—not because I’m startled by his change in appearance, but because he leaves me breathless. He’s so damn mesmerizing I can’t help but stare. Every. Time.
 
At this point, I think it’s safe to assume I’ll never get used to the masterpiece that he is, and that’s more than fine.
 
It’s quite apparent that he has endured the confines of his dress attire for as long as he can stand it. I can’t mourn the lost image of him all spruced up, not when I have the image of him all stripped down to admire. All he has on is a pair of gym shorts. He keeps a pair stowed away in my dresser for nights like these. He’s sitting at the window, which he has opened, with one leg straddling the bench and the other bent in front of him so that he might rest his beer atop his knee.
 
Trevor isn’t built like an athlete. He isn’t bulky with muscle. He isn’t lanky, like me, either. He’s made up of lean, toned lines that whisper of the physical power that makes him all man. But his inner strength? All the vulnerable and fragile pieces of him that make him so strong, the pieces of him that I love so much, that’s what catches my eye.
 
He wears his heart on his sleeve. Literally. The world might not know it, but I do. I know that every inch of ink that covers his beautiful skin tells his story. The tattoo on his left arm stretches from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder and spills over his heart. I can’t see it now, because of the way he’s sitting, but I know he’s got script tattooed down his left side across his ribs. Finally, his right arm is adorned in a half sleeve. I say finally not as a way to express finality, but simply the end of his list for now. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that he’s dreaming of more.
 
“Daph! Your beer’s getting warm!” he yells, his gaze still directed out the window.
 
I grin, partly because I love how he knows I hate it when my beer gets even the slightest bit warm; partly because he hasn’t noticed me standing here staring at him. “I’m right here,” I say as I continue to make my way into the room. I speak softly, but I startle him just the same.
 
“Shit, Wings—” he mutters, spitting out his nickname for me as he jumps. He has to snatch up his beer as his leg shoots out in front of him. I laugh and grab my half empty bottle from off of the edge of the bookshelf where he’s lined up our reserve. “How long were you standing there?”
 
“Not long,” I lie. I sit opposite of him, bending my knees and propping my feet up.
 
“Sure,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me in disbelief. I smirk in response.
 
Now this is one of those moments where, if we were in a movie or a romance novel, he’d crawl across the bench and kiss me. But this isn’t a fairy tale and he won’t kiss me because I won’t let him. We can’t go there. What he and I share, it works because we don’t go there. As crazy as it might sound, our restraint excites me. Simply knowing that he feels it, too, makes this moment more intimate than not.
 
He brings his beer up to his lips and tilts his head back as he empties the remaining contents into his mouth. As he sucks out every last drop, he watches me watch him and I get lost in his oval eyes. His irises are in a glorious state of confusion, unsure of whether or not they are blue or green. His hair struggles with the same color dilemma, his dark blonde locks sometimes appearing light brown, depending on how the light hits them.
 
For just a second, I imagine running my fingers through his soft, loose, curls. Or, at least, I consider them curls; or they would be—big, beautiful, silky curls—if he grew his hair out longer. I know he won’t. He likes to keep his slightly shaggy, fuck-me-now mane just long enough to entice you to do just that. Except, we won’t be doing that, either.
 
His gaze is still locked with mine. He’s teasing me. I know it. He knows it—but this is our game. I can’t look away first. If I do, he’s won. So instead, I bring my beer to my lips, tilt my head back, and drink, all the while watching him watch me.

When we’re both finished, he stands and takes my empty bottle before leaning down to kiss my neck, just below my ear. “You win, Wings,” he murmurs. I grin, feeling victorious. “But you left the bottle opener in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me once more as a reward and then turns to leave.






Author Bio

R.C. Martin finds it a bit awkward referring to herself in the third person, so she's only going to do it for this one sentence. (We all know who's writing this bio anyway!)

I'm a born and bred Coloradan. I will always claim that square state as my home! While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I've left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. I'm a woman in love with love and filled to the brim with compassion for women like me, on a journey to find themselves in today's society. I aspire to inspire my readers to do more than settle. I hope that my writing will remind everyone that she (or he!) is valuable and worthy of the best kind of love--the kind that is gentle, patient, faithful, passionate, all consuming, never ending, and leaves you breathless.

When I'm not writing I'm reading; when I'm not reading I'm writing...you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I'm an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.



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Giveaway

Sale Blitz: Beware of Bad Boy Series by April Brookshire




SERIES SALE BLITZ 
Series: Beware of Bad Boy
Author: April Brookshire
Genre: Mature YA Contemporary Romance



Series Blurb

Caleb and Gianna aren’t supposed to fall in love. Getting along for their parents’ sakes is almost impossible already. Gianna can’t stand the bad boy image Caleb portrays and he thinks she’s a hollow beauty.

At first, denying their mutual attraction is easy enough. But as the stepbrother and stepsister get to know each other, friendship blossoms and feelings emerge they aren’t prepared for.

From enemies to friends to lovers sounds like a modern-day fairytale. Unfortunately, their love is forbidden and a wicked stepmother will do anything to keep them apart. Monsters and creatures in the forms of Gianna’s ex-boyfriend and Caleb’s past conquests attack from all sides.

The road to happily ever after isn’t paved in gold and there are many obstacles to overcome, but a bad boy becomes a Prince Charming and a Sleeping Beauty awakens.

 
WARNING: This YA Contemporary Romance series contains Mature themes and is not suitable for younger readers.





Free

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AMAZON US / UK / AU





AMAZON US / UK / AU







Series Playlist








Author Bio


April Brookshire is the author of the Beware of Bad Boy and Young Assassins series. She also co-authors the Dead Chaos series. She writes under the contemporary romance and apocalyptic fantasy genres and has a few projects in the works for 2015/2016.

Growing up with four brothers, she doesn’t like most chick flicks but devours romance books of all genres. A book addict, she’s read almost two thousand books to date.

April lives in a suburb of Denver, Colorado, where she raises her young son. When she isn’t writing, she’s usually reading, but also enjoys attending concerts and plays in the numerous venues of the city.





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Cover Reveal: Ready to Love by Franca Storm

READY-TO-LOVE-FRANCA-STORM-FACEBOOK-AUTHOR-BANNER (1)
Ready to Love
Genres: ContemporaryRomance
Publication Date: August 10, 2015

READY TO LOVE FRANCA STORM AMAZON KINDLE EBOOK COVER (1)
Preoder from Amazon
She is the one woman who is always off limits…
College rocker and infamous playboy, John Kingston, has screwed his way through most of the women on campus. But there’s one woman he will never touch: his best friend and band mate, Nicki. For four years, he’s been her protector and her confidant.
When arrogant frat guy, Axel, attempts to make a claim on her, John suffers a painful wakeup call, quickly realizing that his feelings for Nicki are not purely platonic. Recognizing that Axel’s intentions are anything but innocent, John’s possessiveness spirals out of control, sparking a dangerous feud.
Nicola Lewis can’t bear to be touched. Haunted by an awful past that she has been unable to escape, she has kept her distance from the opposite sex. And she’s been just fine living her life that way: safe and uncomplicated with no chance of getting hurt again.
Until an unexpected kiss changes everything…
But John and Nicki must decide whether the burgeoning desire between them is worth the risk. Is this a case of love conquers all, or a huge mistake that could destroy everything?

Add to Goodreads

About Franca Storm

Franca was born in Surrey, England and currently lives in Niagara Falls, Canada with her husband and their labrador, Rocky.
She is a long-time lover of erotica and romance novels, especially those with sexy-as-sin alpha males. She decided to try her hand at writing her own and writing romance is now her obsession and the perfect way to put her dirty mind to good use!
Her writing spans many different sub-genres of romance: contemporary, biker romance, paranormal romance, new adult, romantic erotica and romance suspense. She’s got a ton of stories to tell and many more works up her sleeve.

Naughty Escapes

 
New Hot Summer Read only .99 cents!

THE NAUGHTY LITERATI: NAUGHTY ESCAPES

Title: Naughty Escapes

Sub-title: Eleven Naughty Vacation Getaways

Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo, Nicole Austin, Berengaria Brown, Lainey-Jo Charles, Suz deMello, Francesca Hawley, Regina Kammer, Katherine Kingston, Terry Rissen, Belle Scarlett, Alexa Silver


Buy on Amazon: http://goo.gl/Gz2vHP

Description:

Naughty Escapes Anthology, a boxed set of hot short stories (5k-15k words each) by eleven traditionally published romance authors. This anthology is the summer collection of stories where each author chose an exotic  locale and set their characters off on a romantic vacation or getaway.  Eleven Naughty Vacation Getaways including BBW, BDSM, contemporary, historical, dark fantasy, M/M, ménage, paranormal & shapeshifter, from Amazon bestselling authors!

Take a naughty trip around the world with us to a penthouse playroom in San Francisco, the shore of Lake Superior, a deserted island in The Bermuda Triangle, a mob-controlled nightclub in pre-revolutionary Havana, along a river near Cambridge in England, a sex club in Paris, a nude beach in Barcelona, the ancient Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza, a villa overlooking Lake Como in Italy, a honeymoon in Berlin, and a swanky condo in Zurich.




HYBRID MATES: SEX ME UP by Nicole Austin

One night at a Paris sex club—no-strings, complications or inhibitions—just lots of fantasy sex. But in the morning I forgot the most important rule. Never run from a feline predator—they live for the chase.



THE WYNDMASTER’S ESCAPE by Charlotte Boyett-Compo



A love as old as time can sometimes lead to a future one warrior never wanted.

FIREWORKS AT THE LAKE by Berengaria Brown

Andrew didn’t want to spend the Fourth of July long weekend with the people from the office so he goes to Lake Superior instead. There he sees Luke, a blond Viking who arouses every craving for love and lust inside him. But can he overcome his low self-esteem from when Rory rejected his love and open his heart to another man?

PUNTING ON THE RIVER CAM by Lainey-Jo Charles

Having escaped being roped into wedding party activities, two American strangers turn a day of sightseeing in Cambridge, England into a series of passionate encounters.

ONE HOT HAVANA NIGHT by Suz deMello

Havana, 1958… On the eve of the revolution, journalist Ellie Wheeler dreams of the biggest story of her life. Two hot men make all her dreams come true—even ones she didn’t know she had.

SHAKE IT UP! By Francesca Hawley

After a mild quake in San Francisco, Allyson Rayburn gets stuck in the same elevator as Ross Morgan, the Dom who’d been at the other end of a flogger at a private club the night before. Her day just got interesting.

WINDOW DISPLAY by Regina Kammer

The apartment in Zurich was supposed to be the perfect disruption-free place to finish my dissertation. Trouble is, my room came with a very distracting view.

THE LAKE BY MOONLIGHT by Katherine Kingston

Julie Forrester returns to Lake Como in Italy to evaluate some paintings for a former professor–and to re-evaluate her relationship with the man.

MOON DANCE by Terry Rissen

Christina and Will’s honeymoon in Berlin turns potentially deadly as dark forces seek retribution for Will’s past life actions. Can Christina save her beloved?

THE BERMUDA LOVE TRIANGLE by Belle Scarlett

Castaway in the Bermuda Triangle, Trista finds herself torn between two sexy shifters. Neither will share her so she must choose between them. Decisions, decisions…

GET AWAY by Alexa Silver

A-list actor Bryson runs into a gorgeous—and very naked—man on a Barcelona beach. Kell looks familiar but Bry can’t quite place him. After a sexually-charged meeting, they go their separate ways, or so Bry thinks. Fate comes knocking with an invitation to a party, and a date with destiny.


What reviewers are saying:

“Sexy, steamy, sweet and positively sizzling!
Another fabulous box set from the Naughty Literati. It’s like opening a gift box of gourmet chocolates. You don’t know what you’re going to get, but you know it’s going to be utterly delicious!”  5 STARS
~cjsdragon's  http://goo.gl/gdq9mV

“Another hot and tasty entry. You’ll find everything from flings to HEAs in various levels of heat and intensity. Well worth the time, especially at the remarkable pricing.”
~  L. S. Tucker http://goo.gl/TYhfjq

“Come have a Naughty Escape, one story at a time” 5 STARS

~ Redrabbitt http://goo.gl/IuxpFh


Other Books by THE NAUGHTY LITERATI
Naughty List: Thirteen Naughty Holiday Stories:
Naughty Hearts: Twelve Naughty Romance Stories
Naughty Flings: Twelve Naughty Little Romps

Brought to you by:



Release Blitz: The Truth of Tristan Lyons by L.B. Dunbar




Title: The Truth of Tristan Lyons
Series: Legendary Rock Stars #4
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Rock Star Romance
 Release Date: July 27, 2015



Blurb

Heartbreaker.

I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.

I need a break. I want to be alone. I'm not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I'm not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she's here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren't they?

Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.

Until her.







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Excerpt

The Truth of Tristan Lyons excerpt © L.B. Dunbar

I wanted to know who she was. Scratch that, I didn’t care who she was. I wanted to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes.  They knew no shame. 
“Hey,” I said grabbing her upper arm. “How did you get in here?”
She seemed caught unaware of my approach and screamed loudly, pushing at my chest hard enough, the sheer surprise forced me to let go of her.
With her hand on her chest and her breasts rising and falling in great agitation, I was able to see her big blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and catch her breath.
Standing up almost as quickly as she bent over, she spoke to me through delicious looking pink lips.
“Who the fuck are you?” she growled.
“Who the fuck, are you?” I returned.
“I’m…”
“You know what, never mind. You need to go,” I said, cutting her off and reaching for her upper arm again. “I don’t know how you got in here, where you came from, or how you found me, but you need to go.”
I began to tug her toward the front entry, her feet sliding in her flip-flops across the tile flooring. She pulled back, and the force made her skid on an angle across the slippery surface as I dragged her. She continued to glare at me quizzically, leaning away from me.
“I don’t know what you are talking about?”
“Did you follow me, is that it? See me in the airport?”
“What?”
“Okay, I love you too, now you need to go. Okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am?”
“I don’t.”
I stopped, still holding firmly to her arm. Something in her voice sounded like she was being serious.
“I’m Tristan.”
She blinked, confusion clearly on her face. I was thoughtful for a moment. It was the innocence in her blue eyes, and the fact she looked like she might cry. Something wasn’t right with this scenario.
“Trist – an,” I said slowly, as if she had some type of hearing impairment.
“Who?”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Country,” she answered so quickly, she didn’t even blink an eye or stop for thought. On top of that, she said it in such a way that showed she was thoroughly confused, and almost disgusted with me, for even asking such a ridiculous question. She wrinkled her nose.
“Look, I know the owner, and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know the owner,” I repeated, “and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said, pulling at her own arm again and sticking out a hand to press against my chest as leverage. I had tugged my shirt off at some point while I was passed out, and her warm hand felt good on my air-conditioned cool skin. Her hand was tiny, I noticed. All of her was thin.
“I’m supposed to be here. Alone,” I emphasized again.
She didn’t respond, so I added, “I think I’ll just call the owner myself, to see where the mix up is.”
“No,” she blurted, stopping in her physical struggle against me. Her eyes opened even wider, if that was possible, and her face was suddenly full of something I couldn’t read. Her blue eyes brightened in a frightening sort of way. Was that fear? Good, she should be afraid.
“Please. I swear. I’m allowed to be here. You don’t need to call Isa.” 
She had me. I didn’t really know who Isa was, and the girl sounded confident enough that I let her call my bluff.
“If there is a mistake, and you were scheduled to stay as well, I won’t complain. As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in your way. You won’t even know I’m here. I plan to keep to myself.”  Her eyes were glassy, and again I worried she was about to cry.
I released her arm and she pulled it back quickly. She fisted the hand of that arm, holding it against her chest. She began rubbing her upper arm with the opposite hand. I noticed again that she was thin, as were her breasts. I didn’t care for small chested girls. I didn’t care for her.
“Well, I’m Tristan, whom you claim to not know, and you are?”
“I’m…Ireland.”
“Ireland what?”
“Just…Ireland.”
I shook my head.
“So this is how we’re going to play it? Fine, my Irish Isle. What are you doing in the Caymans?”
She looked at me for a moment, then leaned toward me and sniffed. She held the disgusted expression on her face and wrinkled her nose as she pulled back.
“Probably the same thing as you.”
“Drinking myself into oblivion?” I laughed, crossing my arms over my bare chest defensively.
“Hiding,” she replied.







Author Bio


L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?

As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.

I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.

So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.

I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.
 

L.B. Dunbar






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