Sunday, March 30, 2014

Cover Reveal: Entice (Eagle Elite #3) by Rachel Van Dyken



Publication Date: May 13 2014

Blurb:

From #1 New York Times Bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken comes the third book in the bestselling Eagle Elite Series...

“As burns this saint, so burns my soul. I enter alive, and I will have to get out dead.”

Chase Winter let the love of his life slip through his fingers and into the hands of his best friend and mafia boss of the Abandanato family. Now that he's been given a second chance to right a wrong--he refuses to let his own selfishness stand in the way. The only problem? He's not fully in possession of his heart, so when Mil De Lange, the girl who's innocence he stole, and heir to the worst of the worst mafia families in the US, asks him for a favor. He actually says yes, not realizing that that one yes has the power to destroy them all.

Mil's been in love with Chase as long as she can remember, but as the years went by, the love turned to hate, and now that he's agreed to help her, she's wondering if she made a fatal error. Because Chase isn't a teenager anymore. He's a hot blooded male, bent on owning every part of her body and soul, and willing to kill anyone in his path who dares stand in the way.

It's time for secrets to finally be revealed...but make no mistake, it's going to take a lot of bloodshed for those truths to be discovered.

You've never read a New Adult Mafia story like this before...loyalties will be tested, lovers reunited, and friendships obliterated. Welcome to the Family. Blood in--No out.

Excerpt:

Nixon

I checked the time on my cell and leaned against the wall. The desert heat was not in any way helping my already-tense mood and irritated disposition. A guy walked by, flicking his cigarette into the dirt. Note to self: you know you're tense as hell when you’re halfway tempted to grab said cigarette and suck the nicotine dry from the remains.

And I didn’t even smoke.

Shhhit.

My head hurt, my muscles were sore, and Trace was pissed. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the building.

“Hey there.” A flirty voice interrupted my self-inflicted torture session. I opened one eye, then two. A blond-haired girl in six-inch heels and something I can only assume at one point use to be a shirt, hanging over her shoulder, walked into my personal space. Her shirt-dress thing barely met her thighs.

“Yes?” I kept my sunglasses on. If I took them off and glared, she’d probably run screaming down the street, and I wasn’t into scaring females… at least not in that way. I knew I looked downright pissed as hell.

“Just thought you looked lonely.” She lifted her shoulder and offered a teasing smile. Did that really work on other guys?

“You thought wrong,” I said simply. “I’m holding the wall up — like Samson.”

“Samson?” She looked around as if waiting for another man to appear.

“From the Bible,” I clarified.

“The what?”

“Gotta love Vegas,” I muttered under my breath. “Look, I don’t want any.”

“Any what?” She ran a manicured nail down my chest, biting down on her lip at the same time. I could only imagine her point was to get me to stare at her lips, but all I felt was irritation. Damn Chase and Mil. I just wanted to go to bed, but I needed to talk with him before tomorrow.

“Sex.” My voice clipped. “I. Don’t. Want. Any.”

“But—” She twirled a piece of blond- hair in her fingers.

“I’m gay.”

“Right.” She snorted.

“I’m into men.”

“Oh really?” She closed the distance between us. Just as I was ready to seriously put my hands on her and push, I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder.

“Hey there, hot stuff.” Tex said in a low voice as his hand grabbed my ass, cupping it with a little too much enthusiasm. “You ready?”

I ground my teeth together and forced a smile. “Yup.”

“Oh…” The girl stepped back. “Um, sorry, you guys, uh, enjoy your night.” She pushed past Tex so fast I was afraid she was going to teeter off her heels and get hit by a taxi.

“Tex.” I seethed.

“Hmm?” He took off his sunglasses and tilted his head as the girl hurried away.

“You can take your hand off my ass now.”

“Why? Afraid you like it too much?”

I pushed against him.

“Just embrace your feelings!” He shouted, earning the attention of a family walking by with their two little kids.

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and threw him few feet away from me, trying my damnedest not to smile.

“Admit it. You keep me around for comic relief.” Tex nodded with a smirk.

“I admit nothing.” I lost the war against smiling and started laughing. “But I do keep your ass away from Campisi, so remember that next time you start yelling about me being your lover.”

“True.” Tex grinned. “Oh, and P.S., don’t knock it till you try it.”

“P.S.,” I repeated in the same voice. “Still pissed at you for screwing over my sister.”

“Yeah well.” Tex sobered. “It’s for the best.”

“Breaking her heart and bringing in whores is what’s best for her?”

Tex lifted his hands into the air. “Look, I didn’t say my methods were sound or that they were intelligent, just let us deal with it, okay? We’re big kids.”

“Kids.” I snorted. “That about sums it up.”

A town car pulled up next to the curb. Chase got out and then held out his hand to Mil. My eyes narrowed; she looked different. Happier.

Her mom had just died, and she'd survived a bombing.

And she was smiling like the Taliban had just declared world peace.

Chase gripped her so tight that I saw the white of his knuckles.

I tilted my head, still watching them when Tex said. “Dude, you get laid?”

“Tex,” I snapped. “Go get something for their luggage.”

“But—”

“Go.”

Tex flipped me off, but ended up jogging over to the main entrance while I inspected both Mil and Chase. “I’m not saying this to be an ass—”

“Here we go.” Mil crossed her arms.

Chase waited.

I licked my lips and tried to appear indifferent. “But if you guys start screwing each other now, I may have to shoot one or both of you. It’s not the time to play house, got it?”

“Play house,” Chase repeated in a deadpan voice as he dipped his free hand into his back pocket, most likely clenching a pair of brass knuckles. “I know it’s your honeymoon,” I continued. “But this [P1] little scenario you’ve got going on with the whole hot and cold is going to have to wait until everyone’s safe. So Chase, keep it in your pants for once in your life, and Mil, stop trying to seduce the poor kid, alright? It’s like dangling a damn fry in front of a seagull.”

“Who’s a fry?” Tex asked, pulling the luggage cart with him.

“Mil.”

“Are we eating dinner or something? Because I have to admit,” Tex leaned against the cart, “I’m freaking starving.” He eyed Chase and Mil. “Then again, I’m sure you both are too. All those extracurricular really take it out of ya.”

Chase took off his sunglasses, his face twisting in irritation and annoyance, no smile. Nothing. He was pissed.

“Chase,” I said slowly. “You know I’m right. You’re the best I have. I need your focus to be on The Family. Your family. Then you can screw all you want, okay?”

Mil looked like she wanted to punch me in the face. Chase took a step forward, but she stopped him.

“Good talk.” I exhaled. “Chase, I’ll see you down in the bar in a half-hour, okay? We have business to discuss. Mil, you can go find the girls. They’re having dinner out by the pool.”

Nobody moved.

After a few seconds of tense silence where I was pretty sure Chase was trying to convince himself not to strangle me to death, Tex cleared his throat and pointed to the luggage. “You guys need help, then?”

“Yeah,” Chase croaked. “Thanks.”

We loaded them up and sent them on their way.

“Tell me,” Tex asked once we were walking back toward the bar. “Is your only goal to see how far you can push Chase before he kills you in your sleep?”

Author Bio:

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! 
You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com 


Wednesday, March 26, 2014

End of the Innocence (Innocence #3) by Alessandra Torre



Rating 4/5 stars
Publication Date: March 23 2014

Blurb:

He thought I owned him. He thought he loved me, that I was enough. But this animal, this sex god who could drive me crazy and steal my heart in the same breath, he would never fully be mine. It was impossible. No one ever owned a God… One year. I have one year to find out more about this man I am marrying. More about his family. More about our sex, and all of the dirty, delicious places it will take me. I thought I’d spend this year making a decision. I never thought the decision would be taken from me, snatched right from my naive little hands.

Review:


For me the end of innocence is the best book in the trilogy. This time I enjoyed the threesome scenes for one. They were hot. In this book I loved Brad. He seemed to me like he was a different person compared to the other two books. Maybe that's why he opens up more and shows his feelings instead of keeping everything to himself. The parts with his point of view helped a lot to understand him better.

Julia was nice. I liked her. Olivia was the one I hated. She has this negative attitude towards everything Brad that made me wonder after a point if she wanted Julia to be happy and she was just a friend voicing her concerns or if she didn't want Julia to marry Brad for her own selfish reasons. I didn't get my answer and I didn't like that.

With the family mafia involved in this book how could the story be less than interesting?


Excerpt :
7:45 a.m. The doomed walk of the dead through the lobby. I shielded my ring finger with my purse and smiled a brief hello to Ancient Dorothy, bee-lining for the elevators. I rode up alone, taking advantage of the silence to whisper a short prayer—apologizing for any recent sins and praying for compassion.
I was making coffee when the first person noticed the ring. It was hard to miss, sparkling brilliantly under overhead fluorescents, and Beverly, the wing’s secretary, pounced on it like a kitten going after catnip. “What is that?” She dropped her lunch box in the fridge and grabbed my hand with both of hers, oblivious to the dirty coffee filter I was holding, and I watched in irritation as used grounds flew everywhere, spotting the white tile with black specks. Her squat body was rooted to the ground, and she gripped my hand with a warrior’s intensity, her eyes fixated on the ring like it was a steaming hot funnel cake. I tried to gently tug my hand away, but it was like trying to pull Excalibur’s sword from the stone.
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone!” Beverly’s eyes left the stone and focused on me intently. “Did you get back together with your ex?”
“Errr ... No.” I smiled, though I think it came off more like a grimace. “This is someone new.”
“And you’re already engaged?” She tilted her head at me, puzzled, and I cursed the day I ever shared a moment of personal discussion with this woman, or any other creature on this floor.
“Yes. It is quite sudden.” I looked pointedly at the deflated coffee filter, and she released my hand with a quick, hurried movement.
“Oh my goodness, dear, I am sorry.”
I smiled and moved to the trash, dumping the filter and hoping she would leave.
“That is quite a ring. What does your fiancé do?” She moved closer, officially entering my personal bubble.
Aw crap. “He’s an attorney.” I said offhand, washing my hands as noisily as possible, then started opening and closing cabinets, trying to put as many items and sounds between Beverly and me as possible. “I really can’t chat, Beverly. I’ve got to get this coffee on.”
“An attorney!” She beamed proudly. “Well, I know lots of attorneys. You know, I’ve been here thirteen years, and our cases involve firms from all over the city. He’s got to be a new attorney, maybe he interned here. What’s his name?”
I filled up the water reservoir, making a face and pointing to my ear, as if the pathetic pressure from the faucet was a gushing flow of Niagara proportions. That didn’t work. She waited patiently by the sink, and the minute I turned the faucet off, she spoke. “What’s his name?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I was out of options. “I think you probably know him,” I said brightly, adding the water container to the coffee pot, and scooping out fresh grounds. “He works in the East Wing. His name is Brad.”
I really didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see whatever expression crossed her face, but my eyes were drawn to her without bidding, as if they had flipped my subconscious the bird and did exactly what they wanted to because ohmygodthiswasgoingtobetoogoodtomiss. She tilted her head, probably trying to think what peon in the East Wing was named Brad, because it couldn’t possibly be the Brad, and I watched with slow horror the moment her mind came up blank and rested on the only possible conclusion.
She stilled, her sturdy body freezing, and teetered a bit, sticking a hand out and grabbing the counter. Her face took on an odd expression, somewhere between smelling something sour and being constipated. It contorted for three long seconds, in which her mouth opened and closed twice, no words coming out. Finally, she swallowed hard and tried again.
“Brad De Luca?” Her voice still held a glimmer of hope, a possibility that she might be mistaken, that there was some new guy, some pencil-pushing nerd stuck in a small corner of divorce, who she hadn’t yet heard of. Some Brad Smith, or Taylor, or anything other than De Luca. I hated to squash that hope, almost felt a civil duty to lie. Almost.
I finished the damn coffee-making process and pushed START with an almost proud finality. Made it through that alive. Then, I turned back to Beverly. “Yes. Brad De Luca. Good, you do know him.” We did this weird country line dance shuffle where I tried to get around her, and she unintentionally kept getting in my way, and then I finally escaped, and was halfway out the door when I felt her iron grip on my arm. I turned, pasting a bright smile on my face. “Yes?”
I was yanked backward so hard I think one of my heels partially came off. Unsure, confused Beverly was gone, and in her place was a court marshal of Judge Judy proportions. She shut the kitchen door in a swift motion—I didn’t even know the kitchen had a door—and stuck both hands on her hips, squaring off to me. “You. Are Engaged. To Brad. De Luca.” She spoke slowly, drawing out the sentence excruciatingly, and seemed to physically grow bigger with every word.
“Yes.” I tried to maintain a cheerful disposition, but the air in the room was thick, and I was a little worried she might eat me for lunch instead of whatever was in her polka dotted lunchbox.

Author Bio:

Alessandra Torre is a new author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks. The sequel to Blindfolded, Masked Innocence, will be released in February 2014.


Alessandra lives in the Southern United States and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.


Learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com, or you can find her on Twitter (@ReadAlessandra) or her Facebook fanpage.





Giveaway:

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Link:

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Promo: Bad Boy vs. Millionaire (Rock Star Bad Boy #2) By Candy Starr



 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

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.

Author Links

Website | Twitter

Buy Links
Amazon Author Page

Giveaway

$10 Amazon Gift Card


Release Day Launch for ROMAN HOLIDAY: The Complete Adventure by Ruthie Knox

                                                     RH-TCA-600

Amazon * Barnes and Noble * iTunes * Random House * Audiobook

Blurb:

The wait is over with this eBook bundle that includes all ten episodes of Ruthie Knox’s steamy, irresistible serial, Roman Holiday. Like all the greatest road trips, Ashley and Roman’s journey is full of unforgettable twists and turns. But what’s their final destination?

Ashley Bowman has always been impetuous, but even she is a little shocked when she chains herself to a palm tree in the Florida Keys hours before a hurricane is due to blow in. It’s all with the hope of saving her childhood home from a heartless Miami developer. But the moment she meets Roman Díaz she realizes he does have a heart—it’s just encased in ice. Ashley’s determined to get Roman to crack . . . even if she has to drag him all over the eastern seaboard to do it.

Roman can hardly believe he’s been talked into driving across the country with this brazen wild child in a skimpy bikini. He tells himself he had no choice—Ashley insists he meets the elderly snowbirds whose community will be displaced by his career-making development deal. But in truth he knows that there’s something about Ashley that makes him want to get a little wild himself . . . and the closer they get, the more tempted he becomes.

Read the First 2 Chapters!

    EXCERPT:

The driver’s door opened, and black dress shoes appeared beneath gray slacks. The black top of his head crested the door, then disappeared as he ducked down to reach into the car—probably retrieving his hooded cape and sickle, just to complete the look.

But no. When he emerged from behind the door, his evil was far more subtle than she’d expected. The closer he walked, the more this rich Miami land developer looked like television’s version of a bad guy: tall, dark, expensive, beautifully proportioned, and—she had to admit—way more handsome than people were supposed to be in real life.

Ashley liked a handsome man as much as the next girl, but the ones who really got her going always had endearingly imperfect teeth, bad haircuts, unfortunate facial hair—some flaw that made them approachable. She picked the sort of guys who were game to go surfing on a whim or try out sex in a hammock even if they risked ending up in the dirt, slightly bruised and laughing.

Whereas this man—no way did he own a hammock. He was too perfect, his handsomeness nothing less than a loaded weapon aimed at the world. She imagined him bleaching his teeth so white that he purposefully blinded people when he smiled. You’d be gazing at his face, mesmerized by those teeth—which she couldn’t even see right now, but she knew just how they’d look, their contrast to the deep brown of his skin both surprising and delicious—and then you’d blink and he’d be gone, and so would your wallet and your house.

Possibly he’d leave you the hammock.

Of course, it was also possible she was projecting. She’d only been watching him for about four seconds, and she had, admittedly, a fairly strong bias against the guy.

His slick soles crunched over the crushed-shell surface of the lot. He didn’t walk so much as he loped, taking the circular pavers two at a time. His suit was so well behaved that it loped right along with him, too expensively tailored to look awkward for even a heartbeat.

When he’d passed the office, he veered off the path to make a slow circuit around the palm. His expression betrayed nothing as he took in the mound of mulch where Ashley sat. Her bound wrists, tucked tight against her lower back. Her bare arms and barer legs and barest-of-all feet.

He stopped directly in front of her.

“Ashley Bowman, I presume.”

A joke? He delivered the line with such dignity, she couldn’t tell if he meant to be funny.

“That’s me.”

He placed his briefcase on the ground and hunkered down, resting his elbows on his spread knees and clasping his hands lightly between them. Normal people would look awkward doing that, but he made it seem like he’d been born to hunker.

His shirt was black, open at the collar, his sunglasses mirrored. He took them off, and his dark eyes were mirrored, too. Impenetrable.

Good-looking, yes. But good?

She wouldn’t bet a nickel on it.

Not for the first time, it occurred to Ashley that chaining herself to the palm tree had not been her best decision ever. The idea had been to take a stand. Instead, she felt like a virgin staked below a volcano.

A nostalgic sort of feeling, since it had been so very long since she was a virgin. But this guy definitely had some magmalike qualities. Slow-moving. Molten. Dangerous.

The danger explained why all her frayed nerve endings were sizzling.

It had to be the danger. Because attraction under these circumstances would be insane.

Which was why she hadn’t glanced at his package, so conveniently on display in front of her.

No. She had not.

“I’m Roman Díaz. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but . . .” He spread his hands, encompassing the scene before him. “You’re protesting, I take it?”

“I can’t let you knock it down.”

“Yes. You mentioned that in your voicemail.”

So he’d listened to her messages. She hadn’t been sure, since he had never bothered to call her back. Or answer the letter she’d sent by registered mail. Or admit her to the inner sanctum of his office.

Ashley had done everything she could think of to get his attention, just as soon as her grief had abated enough to let her begin to process a freshly discovered set of horrible truths: That she didn’t own Sunnyvale. Grandma had sold it two years ago without telling her or, as far as she knew, anyone. She’d secretly and sneakily transferred title on the property to Roman Díaz’s development group, Ojito Enterprises, for a generous sum of money that had vanished—though she’d definitely spent some of it leasing the property back from Díaz.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Ashley offered. “Whatever you paid for it, I’ll double.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She had to admire his economy. The mere flick of an eyebrow said it all. He knew she had no savings to speak of, no property of value—nothing to her name but an inherited Airstream trailer full of her grandmother’s junk.

She didn’t have Sunnyvale because he’d taken it from her before she even had a chance to claim it.

He glanced at her bound hands. She’d looped the chain around the tree, then around her wrists, which rested against her back, knuckles brushing the ground. “Is that a padlock?”

“Yes. And I can cover the keyhole with my fingers, so you won’t be able to drill it open unless you cut them off.”

“I could cut the chain behind the tree, where you can’t reach.”

“I’ll rattle it. And probably if you do that, I’ll manage to get hurt, and the media headlines will be all, like, ‘Protester Mangled by Heartless Developer.’”

“What did you do with the key, swallow it?”

She’d shoved it down her bikini bottoms, where it had spent the evening tattooing itself onto her tailbone. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”



 ABOUT RUTHIE KNOX:

Author PhotoUSA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox writes contemporary romance that’s sexy, witty, and angsty—sometimes all three at once. After training to be a British historian, she became an academic editor instead. Then she got really deeply into knitting, as one does, followed by motherhood and romance novel writing.
Her debut novel, Ride with Me, is probably the only existing cross-country 
bicycling love story. She followed it up with About Last Night, a London-set romance whose hero has the unlikely name of Neville, and then Room at the Inn, a Christmas novella—both of which were finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award. Her four-book series about the Clark family of Camelot, Ohio, has won accolades for its fresh, funny portrayal of small-town Midwestern life.
Ruthie moonlights as a mother, tweets incessantly, and bakes a mean focaccia. She’d love to hear from you, so visit her website at www.ruthieknox.com and drop her a line.

Giveaway:

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Mine To Crave (Mine Series #4 ) By Cynthia Eden



Release Date: March 10 2014
Rating 4/5 stars
Blurb: 


New York Times best-selling author Cynthia Eden continues her dark and sexy “Mine” romantic suspense series with…MINE TO CRAVE.

HE TAKES WHAT HE WANTS.
From the moment that billionaire casino owner Drake Archer sees Jasmine Bennett, he’s obsessed. Consumed by desire for the mysterious redhead, Drake will do anything necessary to claim her.  Yet as desire rages between them, danger is stalking ever closer.  Drake’s past isn’t dead, and the ex-Special Forces agent will soon have to face the ghosts he left behind.

SHE’S HIDING SECRETS.
Jasmine isn’t who she pretends to be. She’s a woman on a mission—and she’s supposed to be stealing secrets from the mysterious Drake. Falling for him isn’t on her agenda, but when lust and love tangle together, all the rules get broken.

AN ENEMY IS CLOSING IN…
When Drake learns of Jasmine’s betrayal…all hell breaks loose.  He knows that he should turn his back on her, but it’s too late for him. He can’t let her go, but he can teach her a lesson. No one betrays him…not without paying a heavy price.  Drake will destroy all of the enemies on his trail, he’ll bury his past, and he’ll teach Jasmine to want only him…just as much as he craves her.




Excerpt


“I know what I want.” Her voice was soft. Seductive.
            Drake stopped.
            “I-I have to ask, though…is that the way it works?”
            His back teeth clenched.
            “The ladies you take upstairs to your private room…they all ask?”
            Those women knew the rules going in. Sex. Hot. Fast. Hard. No promises. No ties. 
            Ties were the last thing he wanted. 
            He turned back to look at her.  “You came to this place looking for me.” 
            She backed up a bit.
            He let his lips curl and knew his smile wasn't going to be reassuring. “Be very careful. You don’t want to play with me.” 
            He expected her to scurry away then.
            But her chin notched into the air. “Maybe I do,” she said and her voice made his cock jerk. Sex and sin—that was what she sounded like just then.  

About the Author

USA Today Best-selling author Cynthia Eden has written over twenty-five novels and novellas. She was named as a 2013 RITA® finalist for her paranormal romance, ANGEL IN CHAINS, and, in 2011, Cynthia Eden was a RITA finalist for her romantic suspense, DEADLY FEAR.
Cynthia is a southern girl who loves horror movies, chocolate, and happy endings.  She has always wanted to write (don’t most authors say that?), and particularly enjoys creating stories about monsters–vampires, werewolves, and even the real-life monsters that populate her romantic suspense stories.

Cynthia’s foreign sales for her books include translations to Japan, Germany, Thailand, Greece, and Brazil.
(Back in the day…) Cynthia graduated summa cum laude from the University of South Alabama where she studied Sociology (because people interest her) and Communication (because she likes to write about said people).  Cynthia has worked as a college admissions counselor, a teacher, and as an editor. But now, Cynthia is thrilled to be spending her days making up stories.


Author Links: 


Giveaway:
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Twisted (Tangled, #2) by Emma Chase



Rating 3/5 stars
Publication Date: March 25 2014

Blurb:

There are two kinds of people in the world. The ones who look first, and the ones who leap. I’ve always been more of a looker. Cautious. A planner. That changed after I met Drew Evans. He was so persistent. So sure of himself – and of me.

But not all love stories end happily ever after. Did you think Drew and I were going to ride off into the sunset? Join the club. Now I have to make a choice, the most important of my life. Drew already made his –in fact, he tried to decide for the both of us. But you know that’s just not my style. So I came back to Greenville. Alone. Well, sort of alone....

What I've come to realize is that old habits die hard and sometimes you have to go back to where you began, before you can move ahead.

TWISTED picks up two years after Tangled’s end, and is told from Kate’s POV.


Review:

If Billy causes problems for Drew and Kate in the future, I swear I am going to kill someone!

The only part I truly enjoyed was the epilogue and maybe the page before that. Kate's point of view was similar to Drew's. In the beginning I thought that they were the same. Both stories are being told in almost the same way so that didn't help the case.

While I was reading a part of the book a sense of dread washed over me because I realized what was going to happen and who the crazy driver was. And later Drew's mistake came. That was the first thing that made my stomach turn. The second and last thing was Shitfaced aka Billy. I can see why Drew doesn't like him and I am going to start a club named we hate Shitfaced.

What can I say? I don't like that guy at all. Not even a tiny bit. Things got off the wrong way with him and then they couldn't be fixed. Mrs Chase please give him a girl to love so he will forget Kate and all his non-friendly thoughts and stop getting on my nerves.

The whole book is a huge misunderstanding. I really thought Drew and Kate would communicate better than how they actually do. I hope after this they will learn something. I honestly don't think that Drew was the only who I should blame in this book. Kate was equally responsible for the mess. I did want to smack Drew's face, but I also wanted to kick Kate's ass. She lied to Drew and then when to kiss Shitfaced. That hurt worse than what Drew did.

I could see the whole time what went wrong. Kate and Drew were talking about two completely different things but made it sound like they were talking about the same thing. He and it meant two should not be used in a conversation so often. I am afraid to see what was going to happen next in the fourth book, Tied. For I Twisted had unnecessary drama.

I think Tangled fans will be a little disappointed from the book, Kate and Drew. I have to cut some slack on Drew because when he stopped getting drunk and sobered up, he was amazing and romantic and the Drew I knew he was. I might spoil a bit, but I never thought that Drew could do that on Kate. Not after all the things he went through to make her his.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Cover reveal: Taint by S.L. Jennings



Publication date May 20 2014

Blurb:

Right now, you’re probably asking yourself two things:
Who am I?
And, what the hell are you doing here? 

Let’s start with the most obvious question, shall we? 

You’re here, ladies, because you can’t f*ck.

Oh, stop it. Don’t cringe. No one under the age of 80 clutches their pearls.
You might as well get used to it, because for the next six weeks, you’re going to hear that word a lot. And you’re going to say it a lot. 
Go ahead, try it out on your tongue. 
F*ck. F***ck.

Ok, good. Now where were we?

If you enrolled yourself in this program then you are wholly aware that you’re a lousy lay. Good for you. Admitting it is half the battle.

For those of you that have been sent here by your husband or significant other, dry your tears and get over it. You’ve been given a gift, ladies. The gift of mind-blowing, wall-climbing, multiple-orgasm-inducing sex. You have the opportunity to f*ck like a porn star. And I guarantee, you will when I’m done with you.

And who am I?

Well, for the next six weeks, I will be your lover, your teacher, your best friend, and your worst enemy. Your every-f*cking-thing. I’m the one who is going to save your relationship and your sex life.

I am Justice Drake. 
And I turn housewives into whores. 

Now…who’s first?

Excerpt:

“Unless he’s completely desperate or under the influence, a man can’t - and won’t - fuck what doesn’t get him hard.”
Less gasps this time, but every perfectly powdered face is beet red with embarrassment, causing my mouth to slide into a sardonic smirk.

Truth be told, I love this shit. I love ruffling their meticulously groomed feathers. Their obvious discomfort entertains me. Seeing the rosy hue of coyness bleed through their blush is like a balm to my little, sadistic soul.

“And in that case,” I continue, “you don’t want him anyway. What you do want is for him to be salivating at the soles of your Jimmy Choos. And let’s face it, ladies… that’s not happening. Why do you think that is?”
Crickets. Fucking crickets.

“Anyone? Come on, ladies. I can’t help you unless you want to be helped. So unless you all have picture-perfect marriages and husbands that blow your backs out on a regular, I should see some hands.”
This time I’m rewarded with the almost simultaneous intake of eleven breaths. They’re all still here. All willing to bare their souls and dirty laundry in an attempt to rekindle the doused flame between their thighs.
You see, women are liars.
Yeah, I said it. L-I-A-R-S.

They want intimacy just as badly as men do. But to them, intimacy is more than just the physical act of sex. They want to be cherished yet want a man that will get down and dirty. They want tenderness, but crave to be banged like a $2 hooker. They want a man that’ll go all night, but still have the energy to kiss and cuddle and talk about their feelings afterward.

Listen up, ladies. We’re fucking tired! You try going jackrabbit-style, throw in some Cirque du Soleil moves and see if you can keep your eyelids peeled. Us passing out after sex is a compliment- a testament to how good it was. And quite frankly, if your dude can hop out of the sack and go to work or run a marathon, then he still has energy left for sex. He’s just done having sex with you.

Author bio:

Most known for her starring role in a popular sitcom as a child, S.L. Jennings went on to earn her law degree from Harvard at the young age of 16. While studying for the bar exam and recording her debut hit album, she also won the Nobel Prize for her groundbreaking invention of calorie-free wine. When she isn’t conquering the seas in her yacht or flying her Gulfstream, she likes to spin elaborate webs of lies and has even documented a few of these said falsehoods.
Some of S.L.’s devious lies:
FEAR OF FALLING
THE DARK LIGHT SERIES
v  Dark Light
v  The Dark Prince
v  Nikolai (a Dark Light novella)
v  Light Shadows- coming in 2014
TAINT- releasing in May 20, 2014
Meet the Liar:
Twitter: @MrsSLJ
Giveaway:

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