Thursday 30 June 2016

~*~*~EXCERPT REVEAL~*~*~ BLOOD TO DUST BY L.J. SHEN




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Coming July 18th


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His name is Beat, and I should hate him.

Bound, blindfolded and bruised, I'm tied in his basement, waiting for the men who stripped me from clothes and humanity to collect his debt to them. Me.

His name is Nate and I should hate him, but I don't.

I'm not supposed to know his real name, even worse, I'm not supposed to care. He is nothing to me but means to an end. The plan is simple: break free, collect the pieces of my broken soul, kill the bastards and run away.

His name is Nathaniel Thomas Vela, and I've never seen his face, though I hear that it's beautiful.

Behind the rugged and handsome exterior, there's a quiet murderer, a killer who thinks guns are for pussies and ends people with his bare hands.

His name doesn't matter, neither does his face, but what does matter is my heart. And right now, sadly, it's his.

Blood to Dust is a standalone, full-length novel. It contains graphic violence and adult situations some may find offensive.























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I wolf down my dinner before he grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs. He stalks closely behind, and even though it’s taking me forever to climb up the narrow staircase, he keeps his grunt-count to a respectable minimum.
Leading me to the bathroom by the arm, he throws the door open and we both gait into the tiny room. Still blindfolded, I feel the cold sink stabbing at my lower back, but the warmth of his proximity keeps me from shivering.
“I need my privacy.” I lick my lips, feeling him everywhere. Not only is Beat physically big, he is also somewhat of a human furnace. I swear he radiates enough heat to photosynthesize a whole forest. I guess it’s good, because I always know when he’s around. But also bad, because why would it matter? It’s not like I can fight him in any way.
“Dream on, Country Club.” Another grunt.
“Please.” My voice breaks. Usually, I’m counting on my caramel blonde hair and big Disney-animal eyes—which he unfortunately can’t see right now—to get me out of trouble. I have a feeling this guy is harder to crack. “Just lock me in and stand on guard outside. What can I do? Arm myself with a bar of soap? Try and break free through the sink’s hole?”
Is he going to buy it?
Is he sensitive?
Is he hard-nosed?
Maybe he’s both. He’s got some serious codes going on—no beating women, no manhandling your victim, yet he essentially agreed to lock me in here. Then there’s his tone and body language. Peaceful. Like he hasn’t got a care in the world, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve known him for a few short hours and I’m already privy to the fact that he was an inmate in San Dimas, has killed, owes Godfrey a favor and has the Aryan Brotherhood on his tail.
“Be warned”—his peachy breath tickles my nose—“when people are bad to me, I’m worse. Don’t tempt my demons.”
Beat takes off my blindfold, but he’s not as thoughtless as to show me his face. His black tee is pulled over his head, revealing a tattooed six-pack. Even his fingertips are full of blues and blacks. Yet, one side of his body is completely ink-free. Massive, menacing…and as much as I hate to admit it, attractive.
Sweet Statute of Liberty, if I need to screw one of them in the name of freedom, please let it be him and not the chunky tattooist.
Beat can still see me through the fabric of his shirt, but before I get the chance to make out his face, he dashes out of the bathroom and locks the door from the outside with a key.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to do everything. Pee, shit, shower, get dressed. Starting now.”
I don’t argue or waste a second. I jump into the shower and pee as the stream of gurgling water splashes over my body. My bladder is burning with release, and so are the blistering fresh wounds Seb decorated me with. Slowly, I’m starting to feel a little better, think a little clearer.
The water is hot and violent against my strained muscles. There’s only one bar of soap—I’m pretty sure Beat and Ink are sharing it (I’m guessing they’re roomies by the two worn-out towels on the rack). Not very sanitary, but hygiene is a luxury I cannot afford right now.
I scrub my body and keep the water running as I try to pry open the overhead rust-stained window next to the showerhead. I stand on my toes, peeking outside, blinking away disbelief as the sight in front of me registers. A teenager with a beanie zig-zags his way on a bike in the middle of the road, the electric wires above his head tangled with shoelaces and sneakers. Beyond the sight of shotgun houses, wilting porches and the echoes of desperate, barking dogs…a Taco Bell.
Taco Bell!
I recognize the branch. I’m in Stockton. Whose streets I know, whose crack heads I studied, whose language of hardship and adversity I speak fluently.
I study my surroundings. The house I’m trapped in is a simple one-story, and the house right in front of it is probably an identical bungalow. It looks deserted, so yelling will get me nowhere other than on Beat and Ink’s shit list.
But I’m guessing by the sound of traffic and the location of the fast food restaurant that we’re close to El Dorado, one of Stockton’s main streets.
Knowing where I am will work in my favor when I run away.
And I will run away. One way or the other. With or without Beat’s help.
I always land on my feet.
I broke free from Callum, Godfrey and Sebastian. Getting rid of these two should be a walk in the park.
Beat’s fist slams against the door three times, then unlocks the door from the outside.
“Yo, Silver Spoon. Your time’s up.”
“Just one second,” I call, turning off the faucet and stepping outside. I reach for one of the manly dark towels and cover myself up as I squat down to pick up my gray dress.
Hold on a minute.
Manly…Dark…Towels.
They might have a shaving razor. Holy hell, they might have a weapon in here.
I start flinging drawers open, still wrapped in a towel, desperately trying to find something to injure Beat with. I don’t even care if he hears. Give me a razor and I will dice this 6’5 Goliath to pieces the size of Barbacoa. Talent can be outworked and rage can outweigh size. That’s the motto I live by.
Beat bangs on the door again, and it wails on its hinges.
“Hey…you,” he grunts. He doesn’t even know my name. “If you make me open this door myself, you’ll be fucking sorry.”
I ignore him. He can’t rape or harm me. Godfrey made that clear. Honestly? I’m not scared of him that much. He’s been nothing but compassionate to me so far, in his own, angry, Stockton way. Damn it, though. They have absolutely nothing in these drawers. Empty, empty, empty. What’s wrong with these men? Do they not live here, or did they think about this scenario beforehand? Probably the latter. I’m just about to turn around and pick up my dress when the door swings open and Guy Fawkes’s face greets me again, bat-shit crazy galore. The drawers are all open. I threw most of their contents on the floor in my desperate search for a weapon.
This is not looking good for me.
This man is going to kill me…and for once in my life, I don’t feel like putting up a fight anymore.










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L.J. Shen is a best-selling author of Contemporary Romance novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.

She enjoys the simple things in life, like chocolate, wine, reading, HBO, spending time with her girlfriends and internet-stalking Chris Hemsworth. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.


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~*~*~BLOG TOUR~*~*~ SWEET ALIBI BY ADRIANE LEIGH


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From USA Today Bestselling author Adriane Leigh comes a passionate contemporary romance about giving in to desire so sharp and sweet it threatens to consume...

Georgia Montgomery is desperate for an escape from the life she’s been leading. The perfect job, the perfect apartment, the perfect boyfriend—all are on the cusp of driving her over the edge. On a whim, she buys a beach house on the North Carolina coast, eager to spend a summer with her college friends. She thinks she’s found the perfect balance, until one pleasure-seeking playboy turns her world on its axis. Georgia tries to ignore the tornado of emotion that sweeps through her system whenever Tristan Howell is near, but just like an addiction, one look, one taste, one touch is never enough.

The chemistry is scorching and it isn't long before the slow burn ignites into a full-blown wildfire that threatens to consume anything in its path. But Georgia and Tristan can't shelter their love from the outside world, and the moments of exquisite passion they share aren't enough to sustain the relationship. When scars from the past resurface--will their hearts meld together as one? Or will outside forces tear them apart, leaving an empty shell where love and passion once thrived?

*Note: The characters in Sweet Alibi are real and flawed--they make bad decisions and learn hard lessons. It contains a love triangle, a sweet alpha-male with a broken heart, and a leading lady that doesn't always know what she wants. If you love a character-driven romance with a hard-fought happily-ever-after, Sweet Alibi is for you. (Formerly published as The Morning After and Light in Morning duet, now with more than 10,000 words of never-before-published BONUS content!








REVIEW

4 stars

Adriane Leigh writes stories that have always peaked my interest.  When I read the description for Sweet Alibi I had to read it.  Sweet Alibi pulled me in so many directions emotionally.

Georgia Montgomery escapes her life by purchasing a beach house in North Carolina for the summer.  Her friends join and a friend of a friend, Tristan Howell is invited as well.  These two find themselves drawn to one another.  The anticipation and build up for these two to give in to their attraction was just hot.  The kicker is Georgia has her boyfriend Kyle waiting back in DC.  

This is where I was emotionally pulled.  I felt so much for Tristan and wanted him to be happy.  In the same sense I really wanted Georgia to find her happiness with Tristan.  There is so much depth to these these characters that once I began their journey I couldn't wait to find out their outcome.  

Give Sweet Alibi a chance for yourself regardless of our reviews.  Adriane Leigh writes about real life and challenges people face when it comes to the matter of the heart.  





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“You’re getting wet.” Tristan lifted a finger and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I licked my lips nervously, my eyes locked with his. His touch set my skin on fire. I held my bottom lip between my teeth painfully, willing myself to feel anything other than my stomach rolling and the arousal throbbing between my thighs. His eyes darted down to watch my mouth as his lips parted lightly with his breath.
“Georgia,” he whispered as he leaned into me. His lips grazed mine and my eyelids fluttered closed.
Why wasn't I pulling away?
God, I needed to be pulling away, like two minutes ago.
I should have moved my chair away from his when I sat down. Being in Tristan's space did things to me, delicious things like the hair rising on the back of my neck and goosebumps dancing across my skin. My stomach flipped, my breathing hitched, and a slow ache settled between my legs.
“Tristan,” I breathed as he brought his hand to my jaw in a light caress, just like he’d been doing a minute ago to the weathered wood of the deck chair. I parted my lips and the air escaped my lungs in a rush.
“I don't know what this is between us, Georgia, but I want to find out,” he said on a breathy exhale.
“Me too,” I whispered and pressed my lips to his. His soft, slightly salty lips tasted heavenly as I ran my tongue along them. He opened his mouth and our tongues brushed together as his hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers threaded in my hair, thumbs brushing my cheeks. He pulled me closer to him and before I knew it I was adrift in the heady sensation of Tristan.
I lost myself for those few blissful moments attached to his lips. I knew there was a reason I shouldn't be doing this, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was. I ran my palm up his arm and over his shoulder to tangle in his hair.
But the hair was too long. It didn't feel right. It was foreign, and yet the pull I felt to continue to kiss and caress was undeniable.
“Kyle.” I pulled away quickly, mumbling the name. I licked my lips where Tristan’s salty-sweet taste lingered. The feelings that were swirling inside my body and filtering through my head were terrifying and new and right all in the same breath. Tristan watched as my thoughts aligned.
“I’m sorry. I don't know what just happened or why I said what I did, but it can't happen again.” I rushed back into the safety of the house, leaving Tristan alone in the rain.














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Adriane Leigh was born and raised in a snowbank in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and now lives among the sand dunes of the Lake Michigan lakeshore.
She graduated with a Literature degree but never particularly enjoyed reading Shakespeare or Chaucer.
She is married to a tall, dark, and handsome guy, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She is a voracious reader and wishes she had more time to knit scarves to keep her warm during the arctic Michigan winters.
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~*~*~RELEASE BOOST~*~*~ PRINCESS BY SAPPHIRE KNIGHT

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Title: Princess
Series: Oath Keepers MC/Nomad #1
Author: Sapphire Knight
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: June 27
Goodreads
Synopsis
*STANDALONE MC NOVEL*
Biker bitch? Not this chick.
I can’t stand my father and his group of criminals and what better way to get back at my father, the President, then to sleep with one of them?
Poor little Prospect, he never saw me coming.
When my safety is jeopardized yet again by the MC, it’s not the Prospect to my rescue though, it’s a hell bound Nomad out for blood and my heart.

Princess Teaser
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Excerpt
“My name’s Princess, not Cinderella,” she hisses angrily and follows it with a powerful slap. The crack from her palm connecting with my cheek is so loud that I wouldn’t be surprised if it fucking echoed. The bitch hit me hard enough that my face feels like it’s on fire, even with the protection from my beard. She’s got some balls; that’s for damn sure.
My hand shoots out, wrapping around her throat. Her eyes grow wide, and I pull her body flush with mine. I lower my face to hers, close enough that we trade breaths. “It fits,” I mumble as she watches my mouth.
“Huh?” she whispers, meeting my eyes.
“Your name. You reminded me of a fairy tale, but Princess is better,” I answer quietly.

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About the Author
Sapphire Knight is the International Bestselling Author of Secrets, Exposed, Relinquish, Corrupted, Forsaken Control, Unwanted Sacrifices, Friction, Unexpected Forfeit, Russian Roulette, Princess and 1st Time Love. The series are called Russkaya Mafiya, Oath Keepers MC, Ground and Pound, and Dirty Down South.
Her books all reflect on what she loves to read herself.
Sapphire's a Texas girl who is crazy about football. She's always had a knack for writing, whether it is poems or stories. She originally studied psychology and believes that it's added to her passion for writing.
Sapphire is the proud mom of two boys and has been married for twelve years. When she's not busy in her writing cave, she's playing with her three Doberman Pinschers. She loves to donate to help animals and watch a good action movie.


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~*~*~COVER REVEAL~*~*~ SUGAR DADDY BY JADE WEST


Title: Sugar Daddies 
Author : Jade West 
Genre : MMF, Erotic  Romance









A sugar daddy website doesn’t seem a sound basis for an A1 life plan, but I’m a small town girl with big dreams, and there’s this one advert, this one crazy advert I can’t stop thinking about…
Two hot guys seeking their Little Miss Right. Someone who can entertain them, amuse them, fit in with their corporate schedule. And sex. They want sex. Lots of sex. Bonus, right? One major dose of epic win.
Of course, guys like Carl and Rick have their conditions. One being that they come together, or not at all. Hell, I can live with that.
And there are no skeletons in their designer closet, none that I can find. Just two hot sugar daddies, with particular tastes, nothing to worry about.
Until Carl and Rick spill the big one, the one that sends the girls running. A whole string of them before me, running to the hills without so much as a backward glance.
Maybe I should run, too. Thanks but no thanks, see you around, guys, nice knowing you. But I’m already in way too deep for that.
Warning – as with every other Jade West book, reader discretion is highly advised. This novel contains vivid depictions of MMF / MM relationships, and Jade’s characters, as always, have very filthy mouths. Mature readers only, please.









Jade West is the Amazon Top 100 Bestselling author of the Dirty Bad Series and Teach Me Dirty. She is as dirty minded as you may expect.





Wednesday 29 June 2016

~*~*~NEW RELEASE~*~*~ CLEAT CATCHER BY CELIA AARON & SLOANE HOWELL


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What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent--the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He's the one.

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can't get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn't always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?











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I shot back against the cushion, doing my best to act normal. Nik pushed the door open. “Hey, babe. I was waiting for my dessert course.” I made a show of scrubbing my hand across my mouth and face like I was clearing her a space.
“I’m good.” Her tone was flat, and she didn’t even look at me.
What the hell?
Her usual spark was gone. She sauntered over to the side table, and dropped her keys and bag on it.
I glanced down at the laptop screen full of porn. Fuck! I’d been researching some new shit to try out with her, but there was no way she’d believe me. My gaze drifted to the mouse way up under the table. There was no chance I could get to it without giving away my knee situation.
Using my good leg, I tried to gently kick the computer screen closed, and, of course, it only opened wider.
“Have you moved from the couch all night? Did you even shower?” She sighed, still facing the wall like she had no interest in looking at me.
“What’s wrong, babe? What happened?” My mind raced. A lot could have occurred at Estate de CuntMuffin that would set her off. I’d been worried the whole time she was gone.
“I’m fine.” She turned around, and I watched her eyes dart straight to the computer screen. Her brows pinched together and her hands went to her hips.
Fuck me. This won’t be good.
“Nice, Braden. Real fucking nice.”
“It’s not what you think. I don’t look at porn.” I stared in the other direction and mumbled. “Often.”
“Your fingers slip and accidentally type in ‘fuckmedaddy.com?’” She scowled and began to pace back and forth.
I’d expected her to be upset about the porn, but not this much. I was halfway hoping she’d want to look at it with me. “No. I was trying to find new stuff to try out on you. If you must know.”
Her lips curled like she might smile, and then they mashed back into a thin line.
So close.
“Have they said if you’re going to be traded or not?” She took another step toward me, ignoring all of the pussy acrobatics flashing on the laptop.
“No.” I tilted my head to my lap and ground my teeth while I tried to compose myself. I’d been trying to forget about that shit all day, but the pain in my knee kept it front and center in my mind.
She made a pfft sound and threw her arms in the air.
“Babe, I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to have a clue what you’re upset about. I just don’t.”
A million things rocketed through my mind at once and brought my entire thought process to a crashing halt. My brain buffered slower than the inverted cowgirl pussy nomming scene I’d attempted to watch earlier.
Nik scowled, and then folded her arms across her chest. She stared me down like a closer in the ninth inning. “Think really really hard about the problem we have.”
My eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “Uhh, your parents?” I glanced back and tried to judge her reaction.
She made a loud sound like a buzzer that startled me.
“Fucking hell. I mean, umm, me being traded?” I held my hands up and shrugged.
“Warmer.” She took another step toward me.
I hated this fucking guessing game. Why couldn’t she just say it? Heat rushed into my face, and my body tensed.
“Can you just tell me? Please. Stop fucking around with me.” I smacked my hand against the back of the sofa, and Nik jumped.
“Maybe my parents were right. Maybe you do have anger issues.” She stomped off a few steps and whipped back around. “Easton!
“Take that shit back. You know I don’t. Maybe your goddamn family just brings it out of everyone. Maybe you’re more like your mo—” I froze stiff on the couch, and my eyes bugged out. I held up my hands. “I stopped myself. You heard me. I did not say it.”
It was too late. I thought my head was going to explode the way Nik glowered in my direction. Her hands were squeezed into fists at her sides, and I could see all the whites of her knuckles. She started toward me like a possessed demon. “Did you say what I think you said?”
Do not answer, Braden. That shit is rhetorical. Adapt and survive.
I shook my head quickly and braced myself in case she resorted to physical violence.










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Celia Aaron

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

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Sloane Howell

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

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