Wednesday, December 07, 2016

Book Blitz: Winter Thrillz by T.L. Katt


Winter Thrillz
T.L. Katt
Publication date: December 2nd 2016
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
Two short paranormal romances: Tigress and Talons. Explore debut author T.L. Katt’s world of paranormal romance.
Tigress
Jestin, in need of a vacation, takes a break to the mountains where strange events send him exploring the woods. What he finds changes his life forever.
Talons
It’s an ordinary day when Meg gets scooped up by a creature. She awakes in her own bed believing it was only a dream, until she finds puncture marks under her arms. In fear that she’s been injected with a virus, she flees to solve the mystery — finding much more.
This book is meant for mature audiences 18 and above.
TALONS EXCERPT:
“Oh, Miss Meg, you don’t look good. Your cheeks are flushed red like a tomato.” Elsa placed the coffee on the nightstand beside the bed and brought her hand to Meg’s forehead. Worry wrinkles creased her chocolate hairline and brow. “You’re burning up, and what are all those splotches on your legs and arms? We need to cool you down!” Elsa ran out of the room, leaving Meg to stare at her body covered in splashes of red inflamed skin. A fever and illness would explain the hallucinations she dreamt the night before.
Within minutes, Elsa returned with a cold cloth that she placed on Meg’s forehead. “This will cool you off while I draw your bath.” Like a small black whirlwind, Elsa had the bath water running and was slipping off Meg’s gown and lowering her into the tub of chilly oatmeal water. Meg knew better than to resist Elsa’s efforts and complied.
Shivering beneath the cold water brought her back to her dream and the frozen air. She could almost feel the large talons beneath her armpits and the acute pain the creature’s claw had caused. She brought her left hand instinctively to beneath her under arm and felt a hole the size of her pinky. She removed her hand and drew her arm up over her head. “Elsa, do you see anything?”
Elsa’s eyes grew twice their average size. “What happened?” she asked, bringing her fat fingers to the hole and rubbing gently across it. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s just a big hole. It feels like someone stuck me with a centimeter-sized needle.”
Elsa reached over and grabbed a vanity mirror off the counter and positioned it where Meg could see the hole. She stared at it, her mouth gaping with fear as she realized last night had not been a dream. She had been abducted by something that stuck her and most likely drugged her. She couldn’t go to the hospital with this, not after the disappearance of her husband and the mystery that surrounded the strange death of the man thought to have been guilty of murdering several people. No, she was a doctor and would take and analyze her own tox screen.
“Elsa, help me out of the tub, I have work to do!” Sensing the urgency of her tone, Elsa did as asked, against her own judgement. Meg was her friend but also her employer. Meg threw her bathrobe on and rushed through the house with lightning speed, not stopping as she yelled, “Tell Amy I had to leave town for a few days.” Her voice trailed off, leaving Elsa seated on the lip of the tub in a quandary.
As Meg sped through the house, she could feel the sun’s heat nipping at her skin even though a thin layer of snow covered the ground. She had no time to close the drapes to the many floor to ceiling windows that enclosed her home. She had fallen in love with the large amounts of sunlight that streamed in, giving the house a warm, cozy feel — but not now. Today, she hated the light and the tendrils of heat that ebbed across her exposed skin. With a speed far beyond her ability, she was but a mere flash streaking through the home.
In the basement, she tore through boxes of lab equipment; setting aside test tubes, needles, flasks, a hot plate, and microscope. She had used the equipment to analyze the sample her colleague and college dorm mate — now FBI lab rat — had collected from the sociopath’s blood. The sample had been small but enough to tell her the toxin he was injected with was unknown and deadly to him. When it interacted with his blood, within seconds the agent destroyed every blood cell in his body. It acted as a virus exploding each red blood cell from the inside out like over inflated balloons. Yet when she mixed the toxin with her own blood it mingled, restructuring the hemoglobin protein in a way that allowed it to carry more oxygen throughout the body.
Meg found the large bulging vein in her arm. Without hesitation, she withdrew a vial of blood.

Author Bio:
T.L. Katt lives in the south eastern U.S. with her two fur-children Crescent and Gibbous. She dabbles in graphic design, creating all her own covers, and writes stories that are more truth than fiction. Her favorite genres and writing preferences are paranormal and fantasy.

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Tuesday, December 06, 2016

New Release: Someone LIke You by Lauren Layne


A man who’s living a lie—until his dream woman takes away the pain.


SOMEONE LIKE YOU
Oxford #3
Lauren Layne
Releasing Dec 6th, 2016
Loveswept


Lauren Layne’s bestselling Oxford Series continues with the poignant, heartwarming story of New York’s most eligible bachelor, Lincoln Mathis, a man who’s living a lie—until his dream woman takes away the pain.
 
Lincoln Mathis doesn’t hide his reputation as Manhattan’s ultimate playboy. In fact, he cultivates it. But behind every flirtatious smile, each provocative quip, there’s a secret that Lincoln’s hiding from even his closest friends—a tragedy from his past that holds his heart quietly captive. Lincoln knows what he wants: someone like Daisy Sinclair, the sassy, off-limits bridesmaid he can’t take his eyes off at his best friend’s wedding. He also knows that she’s everything he can never have.
 
After a devastating divorce, Daisy doesn’t need anyone to warn her off the charming best man at her sister’s wedding. One look at the breathtakingly hot Lincoln Mathis and she knows that he’s exactly the type of man she should avoid. But when Daisy stumbles upon Lincoln’s secret, she realizes there’s more to the charming playboy than meets the eye. And suddenly Daisy and Lincoln find their lives helplessly entwined in a journey that will either heal their damaged souls . . . or destroy them forever.


Advance praise for Someone Like You

“Fun and flirty, sassy and steamy, with a deep emotional pull that will keep you turning the pages.”—Kelly Jamieson, author of Top Shelf

“An unsung hero with a story that touched my heart. Emotional and gripping. A top favorite of 2016 for me.”
New York Times bestselling author Melanie Moreland

 
Excerpt:
“Lincoln, you know that I love you like a brother, but if you make a move on my sister, I will end you.”
Lincoln Mathis took a slow sip of his cocktail as he studied the fierce bride-to-be. “I hope Cassidy knows how lucky he is. You’re so delicate and gentle.”
Emma Sinclair, soon to be Emma Cassidy as of this time tomorrow, lifted one elegantly manicured fingernail and flicked his chest. “Promise, Lincoln. No hitting on Daisy.”
“I don’t hit on women.”
Emma gave him a look.
He held up his free hand in surrender. “I don’t. They come to me. I’m like the stamen.”
Emma stared at him with wide, slightly accusatory brown eyes. “The what?”
“The stamen. The pollen-producing part of a flower, Sinclair. Don’t you watch the Discovery Channel? Animal Planet? I just saw a fascinating documentary on bees. See, when the bees land on a flower, their little feet pick up pollen from the stamen— “
“Mathis. Are you talking to my fiancée about semen?” Alex Cassidy asked, coming up beside Emma and setting a possessive hand on her waist.
Stamen,” Lincoln clarified. “Not semen. Honestly, is sex all you people think about?”
“Yes.” This came from Riley Compton, a brunette bombshell whose status as New York’s foremost “sexpert” meant she had zero qualms about discussing sex at her best friend’s rehearsal dinner. “And you know, actually, the stamen is rather sexual. I saw that bee documentary too, because these are the sort of things you do when you’re nursing a never-satisfied baby, by the way, and the stamen is a flower’s male reproductive organ. Sexy, right?”
Emma inserted the arm not holding her champagne flute between the two of them. “Guys, it’s my wedding weekend. Can we not talk about flower boners?”
“Fair enough, Bride,” Lincoln said. “What do you want to talk about? Cassidy’s boner?”
Alex Cassidy choked into his champagne.
“There will be no boner discussion,” Emma said. “Lincoln and I were just having a chat about how Lincoln will be maintaining his distance from my sister.”
“Speaking of flowers, where is Daisy?” Riley asked, scanning the room.
“Running late. Knowing my sister, her dress had a slight crease from the suitcase, and she won’t make an appearance until every wrinkle’s banished, every hair’s in place, and there’s not a speck of lint anywhere.”
“Gosh, however will I keep my hands to myself?” Lincoln muttered.
“Lincoln, I swear to God—”
“He’s messing with you, Em,” Cassidy said, carefully tugging his fiancée away from Lincoln. “Don’t let him press your buttons. And Lincoln, man, what is with that drink?”
Lincoln glanced down. “It’s called a Jasmine. Gin, lemon, some Campari—”
“It’s pink,” Cassidy observed.
“Right? You want one?”
Cassidy rolled his eyes. “I’ll stick with wine, thanks. Ah shit, there’s my grandma waving us over. Emma, you up for talk about the state of your uterus?”
Emma groaned. “Oh no. I thought she’d agreed to wait until after the wedding to talk about my eggs.”
“I’ll go with you,” Riley said. “As the only one in our little group of friends who’s ever pushed a human skull out my—”
“Okay, I’m going to expand my taboo list,” Emma said. “No talking about boners, flowers, or vaginas.”
“Fine,” Riley said, as she entwined her arm in Emma’s and started leading her toward Cassidy’s grandma. “But if Grams starts talking about fertility, just follow my lead . . . ”
Lincoln smiled as he watched his friends walk away. He could follow, certainly, help run interference, but new mom Riley was a far better choice for this particular bridal-party duty.
Besides, as best man, Lincoln had enough to worry about. The ring, reconfirming transportation to the church tomorrow, the speech that he was going to slay tomorrow, the—
Lincoln’s best man to-do list scattered as his eyes landed on a woman standing in the doorway to the private event room. He did a double take. When had Emma found time to change? Generally speaking, he didn't consider himself particularly in tune with his friends' clothes. Especially the women, because, well . . .  he didn’t really give a crap. But he was pretty damn sure Emma had been wearing a white dress just ten seconds ago.
Now she was wearing a short yellow dress, with fussy, flowy sleeves, high-necked and a bit demure—
No, not demure, Lincoln amended as she turned. Hot. The dress was backless, showing a smooth expanse of lightly tanned skin from the small of her back all the way up to long dark blond hair.
. . . Blond hair.
Emma had shoulder-length brown hair. A wardrobe swap, he might be able to buy, but the hair?
You idiot.
He was looking at none other than Daisy Sinclair, the forbidden fruit, in the flesh.
He’d forgotten that Daisy wasn’t just Emma’s sister—she was Emma’s identical twin.
Other than the fact that she was, apparently, not to be hit on, Lincoln didn’t know much about her.
Well, he supposed  he now knew that she dyed her hair blond.
Or maybe Emma dyed hers brown?
Whatever. Girl stuff he didn’t care about one way or the other.
And yet he didn’t look away, captivated somehow. He racked his brain for everything he’d heard about Daisy Sinclair.
He knew that she and Emma had grown up in North Carolina. But Emma left for New York City shortly after college, and Daisy had stayed. He thought he remembered talk of a recent divorce, although he didn’t recall the details.
Didn’t need to, really. Lincoln knew better than anyone that not all relationships had happy endings.
Lincoln watched as Daisy hesitated just inside the doorway, unnoticed yet by the rest of the bridal party and out-of-town guests.
Making people comfortable was a particular skill of his. Normally he’d be over there in a heartbeat with a glass of wine and some of his best banter until her shoulders relaxed and he’d coaxed a smile from her pretty face.
But he wasn’t entirely convinced Emma wouldn’t make good on her castration threats, so instead Lincoln merely studied Daisy. The woman was beautiful. No surprise there, since Emma was gorgeous. Yet, though their features were identical, they were attractive in entirely different ways.
Emma was all polished confidence, stunning in an untouchable sort of way.
Daisy was softer somehow. Gentler. She seemed . . . touchable.
Lincoln’s cocktail froze on its way to his mouth as the forbidden rocked him back on his heels. Daisy Sinclair was not for him to touch for reasons that had nothing to do with Emma’s threats.
As though sensing a man’s brooding thoughts on her, Daisy turned slightly, her eyes locking on his. Eyes that he’d known would be dark brown like Emma’s, and yet eye contact with Emma had never felt like this.
Lincoln felt something akin to panic, because for a heart-stopping moment, it felt like Daisy Sinclair was seeing him. Not seeing the Lincoln he wanted everyone to see.
The real him.
He gave himself a little mental shake. Get it together, Mathis. The woman doesn’t even know you.
None of them did.
Not really.
He saw the moment of answering shock in her own gaze, sensed that for a split second, she considered turning and running. From him, from the party, all of it.
Then he saw something else. Something familiar, because he’d done it a thousand times himself. She squared her shoulders, and he watched as a mask slid into place.
He knew even before she approached that Daisy was exactly like him—good at being around people only because she chose to be. Knew that perhaps once it had been second nature, and now it was nothing but a deliberate attempt to make sure everyone thought she was okay.
Daisy began making her way toward him, and he tensed for reasons he couldn’t identify before ordering himself to chill out.
It was just his friend’s sister. The maid of honor to his best man.
She stopped in front of him, and he caught just the faintest whiff of her perfume, a surprisingly elegant scent for someone named Daisy, before she extended her hand.
“You must be Lincoln Mathis, The Manwhore of Whom I Should Beware?”
Her voice was a surprise. It had the same low huskiness as her sister’s, but years in New York had all but erased the Southern from Emma’s whiskey-raspy voice. Daisy’s drawl was very much intact—a mint julep on a hot day.
He grinned and took her smaller hand in his. “Which would make you Daisy Sinclair, Delicate Flower to Whom I’m Not to Speak.”
She grinned. “Nailed it.”





Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen romantic comedies. She lives in New York City with her husband (who was her high school sweetheart--cute, right?!) and plus-sized Pomeranian.

In 2011, she ditched her corporate career in Seattle to pursue a full-time writing career in Manhattan, and never looked back.

In her ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books.

For a list of all her works, please be sure to check out her official website!



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Monday, December 05, 2016

Blurb Blitz: Brothers in Bue: Max by Jeanne St. James and a GIVEAWAY




Brothers in Blue: Max
by Jeanne St. James

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GENRE:  Contemporary erotic romance

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BLURB:

Big city party-girl Amanda Barber has been spoiled most of her life. But life for Amanda suddenly becomes a major challenge: adapting to small town life, dealing with her handicapped brother and constantly butting heads with a frustrating local cop.

As a police officer and former Marine, “responsibility” is Max Bryson’s middle name. Never having been in a serious relationship, he has no plans for being in one in the near future. He likes being his own man. And even if he were interested in a serious relationship, he certainly wouldn’t choose it to be with someone so immature and irresponsible as Amanda. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get sexy Amanda out of his head or his heart. Watching her mature in front of his eyes, his protectiveness towards her only strengthens.

Bossy and possessive aren’t the only words Amanda uses to describe this frustrating cop. She can’t deny just looking at the man makes her tremble. But she’s done with having anyone control her and this man isn’t going to be any different. Or is he?

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EXCERPTS:

Excerpt One:
She laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled her nose into his neck. She could feel his strong pulse against her cheek.

It felt so good to be in his arms. She circled his tattoo with her finger. Semper Fi. Mary Ann had made sure to tell Amanda that it meant “always faithful.”

“Did you always want to be a cop?”

He had one hand on her hip and the other on her thigh, rubbing it slowly back and forth. “Yes.”

She waited a moment, and when he said nothing further, she prodded.

“Why?”

His deep voice resonated through his chest. “I was always in awe of my grandfather and my father. That’s why I followed in their footsteps. That’s why all three of us did. The Marines first, to serve our country, and then the police department, to serve our community.”

“To protect and serve, huh?”

The pride exuded from his words. “It’s the Bryson family motto.”
She moved her nose up to nuzzle him behind the ear. “Well, you can protect and serve me anytime.”

“I’d planned to since the minute you bitched me out in that parking lot when you first came to town.”

She raised her head, pushing herself up with a palm against his chest.

“You were only trying to get into my pants.”

“True…” he said slowly.

Amanda grabbed a nearby decorative pillow and whacked him.

“Hey! You didn’t let me finish. True, but when you saw me in my uniform, you just wanted a big ol’ piece of this bad boy.”


Excerpt Two:

Amanda pulled the plain Buick into the garage and popped the trunk release. She needed to get the groceries unloaded and put away before Greg got home. Even though her brother tried to be helpful after she went grocery shopping, it never failed that eggs got smashed, a grocery bag broke, or a dozen apples scattered out of the garage and down the driveway. He meant well, but…

As she came around the back of the car, she noticed Max’s truck pulling in.

What the hell?

He jumped out of his Chevy and yelled, “Hey, you forgot something!”

Her brows knit together as she patted her pockets. Did she forget her credit card at the store?

He rushed up to her, making her step back in surprise.

“What did I forget?”

“This,” he stated as he pulled her into his arms and captured her lips with his.

Oh yes. Damn her forgetfulness.

His mouth slanted over hers, their tongues tangling and twisting. He pulled her hips against him, and she could feel his hardness through his jeans press against her lower belly.

He swept his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back even more, exposing her neck. He licked her bottom lip, then trailed his tongue down her neck, over the rapid pulse along her throat. He finished with a kiss at the curve of her throat.

“You don’t know how badly I want to finish what we started in the back of that damn Buick.”

A shiver went down Amanda’s spine. Oh, me too.


Excerpt Three:

AMANDA LOOKED UP, surprised at his outburst. Before she could close the door on him, he was hauling her out of the car by her arms, kicking her car door shut.

She opened her mouth to protest but gasped as he lifted her into his arms and started striding with a determined pace to the nearest barn.

She struggled, pushing against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What I should do every time you’re a pain in my ass.”

He nudged the barn door with his shoulder and dumped her unceremoniously on a nearby stack of broken straw bales. He went back to slide the door closed and latched it.

Amanda pushed herself up to a seated position, struggling as her hands sank into the loose straw.

“Don’t even move from there.”

A shiver ran up her back. Fear? Maybe a little at the unknown, but it wasn’t all fear. No matter how many times they’d butted heads, she still wanted him.

“You really deserve to be thrown over my lap and spanked.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “You’re not going to do that.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

He dropped to his knees beside her, and she quickly started to scramble away.

He grabbed her hair, and the tug on her scalp made her still immediately.

She couldn’t tell if he was mad or frustrated or what.

She licked her dry lips. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

“Nothing.” He scrubbed a palm over his short hair. “Everything. Jesus.” He reached for her.

   
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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Jeanne St. James is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 started writing when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2016 and 2017. So keep an eye on her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter.



Author Links:


Sign up for Jeanne’s newsletter to keep up with new releases and giveaways: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

BUY LINKS:


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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

Jeanne St. James will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.



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Sunday, December 04, 2016

New Release: Falling into Darkness by L.M. Brown


Lucifer? A Hero?

When you think of romance heroes, the devil isn’t exactly the first person to spring to mind. Far more likely the fallen angel is appears as the villain of the tale.

Certainly, when Lucifer first made an appearance in my Heavenly Sins trilogy, he did little to recommend himself. However, his relationship with the archangel Michael sparked a plot bunny that morphed into the stand-alone spin-off Falling into Darkness.

So, what could possibly be appealing about the devil?

I would imagine quite a lot. 

If temptation was ugly, who would ever succumb to it?  Therefore, in the world of my angels and demons, Lucifer is truly beautiful, and while, after his fall from grace, he does have the more traditional demon form of cloven hooves and horns, he prefers to look as he did as an angel. With looks that tempt the archangel Michael himself, he is desired by many, but a handsome face and well-formed body don’t make a hero.

It therefore fell to me to turn Lucifer into that hero, while at the same time ensuring that his persona as the devil also rang true.  Not an easy task.

One decision I made, fairly on in the story, was to stay in Michael’s point of view throughout the story.  He sees Lucifer through the proverbial rose-tinted glasses and his feelings for the fallen angel help to soften Lucifer’s harsher qualities for much of the time.  It fell to other archangels, such as Gabriel, Raphael, and others, to highlight Lucifer’s many flaws.

Of course, even Michael has to accept Lucifer for what he truly is, as well as accept that he loves him, faults and all.

I hope readers will enjoy my portrayal of Lucifer as well.



Falling into Darkness by L.M. Brown
A  Male/Male Romance

Blurb:

Their love could save the soul of a fallen angel or damn an archangel to an eternity in Hell.

The realm of angels was created as a paradise where angels could watch over the earth as mankind took his first steps. For the archangel Michael, it is the only home he has ever known and he could never envisage another life. Michael’s life changes the day his path crosses that of the favoured son of the morning. From the moment he sees him, Michael wants Lucifer for his own. When the two angels come together the passion surprises them both.

Their love is forged in Heaven, but is doomed the moment Lucifer falls from grace to become the leader of an army of demons.

Separated by war, the former lovers know the time will come when they must face each other in battle.

Their confrontation will set in motion events that neither could have foreseen. For Lucifer it is the chance to persuade Michael to stand at his side, as his partner as leader of the demons. For Michael, it is a mission to save his lover’s soul, while risking his own.

Torn between his love for Lucifer and his duties as an angel, Michael walks a fine line, where one wrong step could result in his own fall from Heaven, and an eternity in Hell.

Excerpt:

Across the table from him, Gabriel’s jaw dropped in apparent surprise as he stared at something over Michael’s shoulder.
Next to him, Raphael twisted in his seat and his expression morphed into one of shock too.
Michael wondered what might be happening behind him, yet he couldn’t move a muscle to see for himself. His spine tingled and he had the strangest sensation someone was staring straight at him.
“What is it?” he whispered, and in the silence of the room even his quiet question seemed obnoxiously loud.
“The son of the morning,” Gabriel murmured as he set Michael’s plate back in front of him with a shaky hand. “Lucifer.”
Michael must have misheard. Lucifer never came into the communal areas of Heaven. He, along with the other favorites, remained solitary, rarely associating with the rest of the angels, and never in a crowded setting such as this.
Slowly, barely able to draw breath, Michael faced the entrance.
Lucifer stood in the archway, the morning sun behind him. There could be no mistaking his silhouette for that of another.
In the brightness of the light, Michael couldn’t tell what Lucifer searched for, at least not for sure. Only his instincts told him Lucifer had eyes for him, and him alone.
Slowly, Lucifer strolled into the room. Every angel in his path stepped aside to let him pass. Some bowed their heads respectfully, but he didn’t acknowledge their deference in any way.
Finally he arrived at Michael’s table and came to a halt.
“Good morning,” Lucifer said.
“I…” Michael mumbled, once again silently cursing his ineptitude.
“I see you still have trouble forming sentences,” Lucifer commented. “Let us hope you can manage more than a single word by this evening.”
“Er…”
Raphael gathered his wits together first and rose to make a sweeping bow. “Great angel, welcome to our table. Won’t you join us and partake of the fruits?”
Lucifer spared the archangel a momentary glance. “I have already eaten this morning.”
Raphael didn’t seem to know what to say, so he sat back down with a bump.
Lucifer returned his attention to Michael. “This evening, at sunset.”
“Where?” Michael asked, his voice croaking embarrassingly.
“Rumor has it your beach is quite pleasant.”
Michael nodded, not trusting his voice enough to try speaking again.
“Tonight then, Michael,” Lucifer said, before sweeping away in a flurry of robes, everyone once again stepping aside to make way for him.
“The son of the morning knows your name?” Gabriel asked as soon as Lucifer had gone. “Is he the one you’ve been meeting each dawn?”
Michael ducked his head. “I wouldn’t say I was meeting him, exactly.”
“But you have been with him in the mornings?” Raphael pressed. “You kept that quiet.”
There would be no escaping the interrogation and Michael accepted he had to come clean.
“I couldn’t sleep one night and ended up walking through the lands to the north of here. I chanced upon Lucifer coming to the pool of jewels one dawn. It seems he visits there most mornings.”
“And you’ve been at the pool with him,” Gabriel concluded.
“I wouldn’t say with him,” Michael mumbled. “I just happen to be in the area at the same time.”
“Just happen?” Raphael chuckled and leaned in to whisper. “I heard a rumor that when Lucifer is diving for jewels he disrobes completely.”
Michael’s face heated again.
Gabriel roared with laughter. “You’ve been spying on Lucifer?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying,” Michael replied.
“But everyone else would,” Raphael teased. “Oh, Michael, what would we do without you to keep us entertained?”
Raphael and Gabriel laughed and teased him for a little while longer, until Gabriel asked the question that had been bothering Michael ever since Lucifer’s appearance.
“If all you’ve been doing is ogling him, how did Lucifer know your name?”
Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I projected it telepathically without realizing.”
“Or maybe he’s been watching you too?” Raphael suggested.

Buy Links


Falling into Darkness will also be available at Amazon, All Romance Ebooks and other online stores from 13th December 2016. 

Bio:

L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances.  She believes that there is nothing hotter or sweeter than two men in love with each other… unless it is three.

When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.

Where to find L.M. Brown:

Twitter - @LMBrownAuthor

Saturday, December 03, 2016

Book Blitz: The Adventures of Natalie Bloom by Brooke Stanton


The Adventures of Natalie Bloom
Brooke Stanton
(Bloom Sisters, #2)
Publication date: December 2nd 2016
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
Natalie’s dreams are about to come true. She’s found the perfect spot for her new restaurant and a perfect business partner to make it happen – gorgeous Luke Hawker – until she discovers things are not as they seem. Luke has run off with her money, leaving her dreams crumbling around her.
With Max Euston – her friend and secret crush -alongside her, Natalie must race against the clock to find Luke and get the money back before it’s too late.
With twists and turns, Natalie won’t know who to trust (or love) until the very last page.
Here are some bonuses if you buy the book between Dec 2and Dec 6:
1: 75% off the retail price
2: entrance into an exclusive giveaway for a $50 Amazon Gift Card
3: A FREE, advanced copy of The Downfall of Catie Bloom
The bonuses will be available in the table of contents under Bonus when you buy the eBook.
Q&A with Brooke Stanton
Tell us a little about yourself.
When did you decide to become a writer?
I used to keep notebooks filled with short stories starting in middle school. If I’m going to be completely honest they were filled with some pretty risqué stories. I was young and didn’t know much about romance or sex, but my aunt wrote romance novels and I used to sneak and read them, so I tried to emulate her. I didn’t really understand the subject matter. I don’t think I’d even kissed a boy, yet. Once I got to high school, I wrote more mainstream fiction in my spiral notebooks. They were never for anyone to see. Just my own enjoyment. I went to a performing arts high school and funnelled my creativity on stage at the time. But I always knew one day I would publish a book.
Why do you write?
I write for the same reason I used to get on stage and sing and act. It’s cathartic. I love diving into different stories and characters. It makes me feel alive.
What are your ambitions for your writing career?
To have the freedom to write what I want in many different genres. I hope my readers love my books as much as I love writing them.
What has been the hardest part of building your career?
Being patient!
Which writers inspire you?
Jojo Moyes, Emily Giffin, Meg Cabot. All their stories and characters are interesting and unique and I love how their stories unfold. The love stories feel authentic and there’s always a bit of fun and laughter.
What have you written? (Include books, novellas, short stories, poems, blogs, awards or anything of interest).
My debut novel was the award-winning RomCom, The Misadventures of Catie Bloom. My follow-up novel is The Advenutres of Natalie Bloom, which is the second book in the Bloom Sisters series (but can be read as a stand-alone). I have a blog on my website that focuses on my writing career with day-to-day life anecdotes. When I was trying to get preggers, I had a humor blog called Vagina Vacancy. I also contributed to Natural Awakenings magazine and wrote a column for examiner.com.
What inspires your ideas?
Everything! No, really. I never know when an idea is going to hit; I could be on a plane, in a car, watching a movie, reading the newspaper, about to fall asleep. My phone is filled with notes of story ideas. I have at least a dozen. And they will all be written.
Are there any correlations between the books you write and your life experiences?
The Adventures of Natalie Bloom was largely inspired by my yearly trips to Red Frog Beach in Panama. My parents own a place there and it’s a beautiful, unique, inspiring location. The wheels in my head were turning every time I went down there and out of that came this book.
My novel, How to Survive New York on Three Dates a Week (co-written by Corinne Barlow), is the most biographical. Most of the stories are pulled right from our lives. It’s scheduled to be released in early 2018.
All my books have a few anecdotes I took either directly from my life or my friends. If you know me, read carefully…you may find a bit of your life staring back at you!
Do you work from an outline or plot or do you prefer just to see where an idea takes you?
I used to write and see where the story took me. But I found writing for discovery without any kind of outline takes too long. Now I write a short outline before I write any book. It has done wonders for the speed in which I can write a book now. And there’s still a lot to discover, even with an outline.
Tell me about your most recent release.
It’s a romantic adventure about discovering what you and what you’ll do (and won’t do) to get. It’s a bit of romance, adventure, and mystery all tied together. Natalie Bloom discovers to get what she wants she has to fight for it and not be afraid to get hurt…a hard thing to do for all of us.
Is there a message in your novel that you hope readers will grasp? I don’t focus on a message as much as I focus on giving my readers something to indulge in, like sneaking a pint of rocky road ice cream and savouring every morsel as it slides down. But the most prominent theme in Natalie Bloom is not letting fear get in the way of living your life – stand up for what you want and go out and get it, no matter what the obstacles.
Any new projects we should look out for?
The third and final book in the series, The Downfall of Catie Bloom, is coming out in the summer of 2017.
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Author Bio:

After her own misadventures in New York City, LA, and London, Brooke Stanton now lives in sunny South Florida. She’s an award-winning author who has contributed to Natural Awakenings Magazine, wrote a column for Examiner.com, and is the author of The Bloom Sisters series. Visit her website brookestantonbooks.com.

Get a FREE copy of the prequel, IGNITE, here: http://ilovemyfans.info/ignite-download/

Author links: 


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Friday, December 02, 2016

First Chapter Friday! Double Dare by Jeanne St. James

 
DOUBLE DARE
 The Dare Menage Series, book #1
Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, LBGTQ, BDSM
Loose Id, LLC

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32296110-brothers-in-blue


What could be better than waking up next to a hot guy? Waking up sandwiched between two of them.
 
Quinn Preston, a financial analyst, is not happy when her friends dare her to pick up a handsome stranger at a wedding reception. What better reason to give up men when her previous long-term relationship had not only been lackluster in the bedroom but he had cheated?

Logan Reed, a successful business owner, can't believe that he's attracted to the woman in the ugly, Pepto-Bismol pink bridesmaid dress. And to boot, she's more than tipsy. After turning down her invitation for a one-night stand, he finds her in the parking lot too impaired to drive. He rescues her and takes her home. His home.
 
The next morning Quinn's conservative life turns on its ear when Logan introduces her to pleasures she never even considered before. And to make things more complicated, Logan already has a lover.
Tyson White, ex-pro football player, is completely in love with Logan. He has mixed emotions when Logan brings home Quinn. But the dares keep coming...

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme & content, male/male sexual practices, menage (m/m/f).

Loose Id | Amazon | B&NGoogle | iTunes | Kobo
ARe

Chapter One


Logan Reed jammed a finger into the neck of his white oxford and pulled. He needed some fucking air.
What the hell was he doing here anyway?
As he surveyed the church, a bead of sweat popped out on his forehead. His breathing had become shallow and quick. He was going to hyperventilate right there and pass out, making a fool of himself in front of everyone.
He realized one of the ushers was speaking to him.
“What?”
“Bride or groom?”
Bride or groom? Did he look like a bride?
All he wanted to do was strip off his stiff shirt, strangling tie, smothering jacket; throw on a soft, worn pair of jeans and one of his comfortable shirts; sink into his couch; toss his feet on his coffee table; and chug a nice, frosty beer.
Ah, now that was a fantasy!
But here he was, standing in a monkey suit in a church, about to be struck down by lightning at any second. He blew out a long breath to settle his thumping heart.
Logan stared at the confused usher. Unfortunately he understood the feeling.
“Neither.”
“Are you okay?”
Logan had vowed to himself to never do this again. Never be in a church again.
He reminded himself he was only there to observe. He didn't have to participate. But it didn't help. Anyone with as many sins as Logan should have been barred from religious houses. That should have been a law. But it wasn't.
For chrissakes, he had to get a grip. This was a wedding, not a crucifixion.
He had promised his sister he would be here. And even though Logan was a sinner, he never broke a promise. Never.
The usher cleared his throat.
“Dude—”
Logan pinned the suddenly flushed, sweating kid, whose suit looked two sizes too big, with a glare. “Dude?”
He watched the teen's Adam's apple bob up and down a couple of times before he felt a whoosh of air against him, and someone grabbed his elbow. Hard.
“Logan! How nice of you to get here on time.” The female voice was singsong and syrupy sweet. And it held a lot more meaning in the tone than in the words.
Logan turned to face his sister. He had to look down because she was nearly a foot shorter than him. “Hey, Shorty. Good timing.”
The petite brunette gave him a tight smile. “I see that.” She turned to the usher. “We're with the bride,” she said sweetly. “We'll just seat ourselves. Thank you.”
The usher looked relieved, and Logan almost felt bad. Almost.
The grip on his elbow tightened, and without warning, his sister dragged him down the aisle and over into one of the pews on the left.
Sit down,” Paige said through gritted teeth, even though her face held the biggest smile.
He sat.
She smoothed her dress and tucked it ladylike as she settled into the pew beside him.
“Jesus Christ, Shorty. What the hell is your problem?”
Logan watched her plastered smile falter.
“Logan, you are in a church, for God's sake. It's not the best place to take the Lord's name in vain. And if you keep doing that, I might have to move to another pew so when lightning strikes you dead, I'm in a safe spot.” She smoothed her done-up do and gave a pacifying smile across the aisle to the older couple staring at them, mouths agape.
“Hey, I didn't want to be here in the first place.”
“I ask you for one favor—”
“One? Hmm. You must have a short memory.”
“Okay, okay. Knock it off. Believe me, I appreciate your coming.”
“And the thanks I get is a bruised elbow?”
“Sorry, I thought you were going to make that guy piss his pants.”
“Well, shit, he called me dude.”
“Oh yeah, that's so much worse than you calling me Shorty.”
“I thought you liked it—” Paige elbowed him in the gut before he could say anything besides “ooof.”
The wedding march started, and the double doors opened to reveal the bride.
His sister owed him big-time.
* * * * *
Quinn Preston almost choked on her Alabama slammer when her friend elbowed her in the ribs. “Ooof.”
She saved her drink before it could spill all over her ugly bridesmaid dress. Yeah, that would have been a shame: to ruin such a nice, frumpy, pukey pink taffeta dress. One the bride had said she would be able to wear in the future. Like to a cocktail party. Or maybe her own funeral. Yeah, right. No one in their right mind would want to get caught dead in this thing.
Ruining the dress wouldn't have been a loss, but losing her drink would have. She was drinking slammers for a reason—to get good and drunk.
Lana nudged her again. “You see that?” She nodded her head toward the back of the room.
“What?” Quinn really didn't care what Lana was excited about. She just wanted to get this day over with. She was tired of watching the happy couple. She was tired of pasting on a plastic smile for the photographer. And she was really tired of listening to the sappy congratulations. All things she might never have—the wedding, the husband, the bridal bliss. And something her parents never failed to remind her. Especially now that she was in her early thirties. And single. Again.
“Not what. Who.”
“Huh?” She sucked on the dainty little straw the bartender had put in her drink. Hardly anything would come out of it. Maybe it was designed just for stirring. She pulled it out and threw it onto the bar. She really needed one of those big giant straws that came in those fancy frozen drinks.
“Him. Over there.” Lana grabbed Quinn by the shoulders and turned her around to face whatever had caught her friend's attention.
“Oh, him.” She took a deep draw of the punchlike drink, only there wasn't a bit of punch in it. Not the fruit kind anyway.
“Yeah, him.” Lana dragged out him like she was sucking on a maraschino cherry and enjoying the sweetness on her tongue.
Quinn didn't even take a good look. Men were on her shit list at the moment. She didn't care how hot they were. The potent drink in her hands was all the company she needed. She smiled into her glass; it was the best date she'd had in a while.
Another pink taffeta blur whizzed up to them, out of breath.
“Jeez Louise. Did you see that hunk of man meat?” Paula, another victim of the wedding fashion nightmare, was flushed and had a bead of sweat running down her chipmunk-like cheeks. “Do you think he's single?”
Quinn raised one shoulder in a half shrug and turned back to the bar. It was bad enough when the three of them had to stand next to each other at the altar, then throughout the grueling pictures, followed by having to sit beside each other at the head table. All in that awful pink froth. But now that it was all over, and they had done their duty for their friend Gina, there was no reason they all had to stand there looking like someone threw up Pepto-Bismol.
She leaned into the bar and asked the semicute bartender the time. When he answered that it was six, she gritted her teeth. They had only been at the reception for an hour. It was way too early to bail.
Damn.
With a sigh, she turned back to her friends. They were still ogling the male eye candy across the room.
Paula's sigh drifted over her. “I wonder if he likes women with a little meat on their bones.”
A little meat? She opened her mouth to correct Paula, but shut it quickly. Her friend didn't need to be on the receiving end of her miserable mood.
“Quinn, I bet he'd make you forget Peanut.”
Quinn winced and took another long draw from her drink. She loved the flavor and the tanginess on her tongue. And she was trying to forget Peanut. She hated the nickname her friends had called her ex-boyfriend, Peter. Once they had actually called him Peanut in front of his face—by accident, of course. Right. It had taken her a while to brush that one under the rug. He had never liked her friends after that.
On the other hand, her friends had never liked Peter from the beginning. Unlike her parents, who loved the bastard. Probably more than they loved her.
“Yeah, Quinn, he could probably fuck your brains out, and you'd never remember that douche again.”
Quinn frowned at Paula. She noticed her friend's string of pearls hiding in the skin around her neck. Quinn's hands automatically went to her neck to finger a similar necklace—a part of the stupid wedding costume. Ugh. She hated pearls!
She hated taffeta. She hated pink. She hated frilly dresses.
She took a long swig from her glass.
And she hated Peter. The asshole.
His gift to her last Valentine's Day wasn't an engagement ring. Oh no, after five long, wasted years of dating the shit, he couldn't have gotten her a ring. Nope. Instead he sent her a text message.
That was it.
A stupid little text message. One line.
We've grown apart and I've found someone new.
She deserved more than that. Something better. After all those years of loyalty, standing by his side, being the “good, proper” girlfriend. As Peter had expected. As her parents had expected. The girlfriend any decent man would want on his arm. Right?
Not even a sorry. Not even an explanation. Nothing.
And the next day, FedEx had delivered a box with all the things she had left over at his apartment during the last half decade.
Quinn emptied her glass and turned back to the bar, blocking out her friends' chattering over that man.
She needed another man like she needed a hole in the head.
She slid her glass over the bar top, and before she could ask for another, a deep voice washed over her.
“Put her next drink on me.”
Dumb ass. The drinks are on the house. She turned to ream whoever it was, and stopped. Her mouth opened, but nothing escaped.
“You look like a fish out of water with your mouth hanging open like that.” When he smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkled. He was tan, an outdoorsy tan, not a manmade one. And he had beautiful green eyes. Shit. She had never seen such beautiful eyes on a man. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken, and it made him even more beautiful. No. Not beautiful. He was… He was…
Quinn closed her mouth and swallowed hard. He was so unperfect, he was perfect. His hair was a dark brown with natural highlights, more proof he liked being outdoors. It was long and pulled back into a neat ponytail.
She hated long hair on men. But it was right on him.
He had a beard that wasn't a beard. It was like a longer five-o'clock shadow.
She hated facial hair.
He had a strong, corded neck that disappeared into a stiff dress shirt. The collar had been already released and one more button undone below that. The knot of his tie was loose and hung crookedly from around his neck.
The sleeves of his crispy white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his forearms were tan covered in dark hair. His hands…
Oh. Damn.
His hands were large. They were working hands. They weren't soft and pampered. But calloused and thick and strong.
Capable. Capable of doing all kinds of things.
Quinn's nipples hardened under the scratchy taffeta.
His hands could do all kinds of dirty, nasty things.
Things Peter had never wanted to do…
Quinn ripped her gaze from him and spun back around to the bar, bracing herself against it for a second to catch her breath. She grabbed her fresh drink and took a gulp.
“Whoa. Slow down there.”
She pressed the cold drink against her forehead in an attempt to cool herself off.
She needed to go change her panties, she was so freaking wet.
She could feel his heat next to her; his body was like a furnace. She wanted to plant her hands on his chest and feel how hot he really was. Her fingers convulsed around her glass.
“Are you okay?” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shot of lightning down her body, landing right in her pussy.
Quinn could only nod her answer.
He palmed her bare shoulder and turned her to him. He stared down into her eyes, his lips widening into a smile.
His lips. Oh man. Those lips probably could do all sorts of things to her, with her. Lips that were made for more than kissing…
Yes.” Oh my God, she thought. That was the kind of yes she blurted when she was in the midst of an orgasm. At least from what she could remember. It had been so long since she'd come…with a partner, anyway.
She felt the heat crawl up her neck, and she stepped back, breaking the contact.
“I…I'm fine.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for the drink.” She took another sip before raising the glass to him in thanks.
“It was nothing.” When he laughed, her knees almost buckled. “Enjoy it.”
He stepped away and then paused. But it looked as though he thought better of whatever he was contemplating, and he continued on his way.
Quinn leaned back against the bar and let out a shaky breath.
She was suddenly flanked on either side by her friends. She had been so distracted, she hadn't even realized that they disappeared.
“Quinn—”
“Quinn!”
“Oh. My. God!”
“I told you he was hot!”
“Oh! I wish I weren't married already.”
“I wish he liked chubby chicks.”
Quinn couldn't take any more. She raised her palms in surrender. “Stop. Enough.”
“But, Quinn—”
“But nothing,” Quinn answered Paula.
“You're just going to let him walk away?”
“Paula, he isn't going anywhere. Unfortunately I'm not going anywhere. We have to be here for two more hours, at least.”
Lana said, “Are you going to let Peter ruin the rest of your life? All men aren't assholes like him.”
Quinn harrumphed and took another sip of her slammer.
“Why don't you at least dance with him?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Lana asked.
Why not? Because if she did, she might come right on the dance floor? Because she might end up in a puddle of her own juices? The picture in her head shocked her: it was of her lying in a heap in the middle of the dance floor in the throes of an orgasm. Surrounded by all the wedding guests…
This drink was stronger than she thought.
“Because no one is dancing yet.”
“Sure they are. Look.”
Quinn glanced over at the area cleared for dancing, and sure enough, a crowd of people were out there shaking their groove thing. Quinn had been too busy trying to get her drink on to notice.
From the looks of the participants on the dance floor, a few of them had been partaking in the open bar also. Even the bride and her new husband were bouncing and shimmying in the crowd.
At least they were a happy couple.
Quinn took another drink.
Lana frowned at her. “Are you just going to drink tonight, or are you going to do something about your situation?”
“Situation? What situation?”
“Getting laid.”
Quinn checked over her shoulder to see if the bartender was listening. He was. He had a big grin plastered on his face. Great.
The father of the bride came up and asked for a gin and tonic. While he was waiting, he turned to them. “Hi, girls. Enjoying yourselves? You look great in those dresses. My wife picked them out.”
Oh joy. Quinn would have to remember to smack—she meant thank—her. She couldn't wait to rip the scratchy, ugly piece of shit off.
All three women gave him a smile but bit their tongues. Eventually he wandered away, and Lana and Paula jumped right back to harassing her. Good thing they were her friends.
“C'mon. It's not going to hurt to have a one-night stand. Look at him.”
“I already saw him.” Holy moley, she knew they meant well, but they were getting on her last nerve.
“Yeah, and we saw how you were drooling too.”
She had not drooled. Her hand automatically went up to her mouth.
Paula said, “He probably isn't interested in you anyway.”
“Yeah, you couldn't get someone like that. You attract losers like Peter,” Lana said.
If they thought their reverse psychology was going to work, well, it wasn't.
“Looks like he's with Paige Reed, anyway.”
Quinn's gaze shot over to the corner of the ballroom where the tall man stood next to the petite, dark-haired beauty. Paige Reed. Figures.
“I thought Paige was dating Connor Morgan,” Quinn mumbled.
She must have mumbled loud enough, because Lana answered her. “She is. Connor had to fly to Australia for something to do with his job.”
“So why is she with him?” Quinn asked. Why was she so curious all of a sudden? Why did she care?
She didn't. She nursed her drink. After one and a half Alabama slammers, she was starting to feel pretty tipsy. She wasn't used to drinking. And when she did drink, she usually had wine, not hard liquor, and especially not such a hard-hitting mix of liquors.
Paula leaned into the both of them and said in an exaggerated whisper, “Maybe he's an escort,” like it was a scandal, and then laughed.
Maybe he was an escort.
He was probably worth every penny too.
His back was to them now, but that just gave Quinn the opportunity to study how broad those shoulders were in his dress shirt. When he moved, the fabric bunched and pulled with his muscles.
Lana gasped, jerking Quinn out of her thoughts. “He's not an escort! That's Logan Reed, Paige's brother. I haven't seen him since we were kids. Holy shit, did he grow up.”
“I'll say.” Paula agreed. “Quinn, I dare you to go ask him to dance.”
“Not interested.”
Lana joined in. “Yeah, I dare you too. Don't be a wuss.”
If she were a wuss, she wouldn't have come out in public in this pink atrocity. And the matching shoes were killing her feet. The last thing she needed was to be dancing. She'd be crippled.
“That's a double dare, you know, with the two of us daring you.”
Oh, boy, a double dare. She would definitely do it now—not. “You're crazy.”
“No, you are, if you pass up this opportunity.”
“How do you know he's available?” Quinn asked them.
“You don't know until you ask him,” Lana said. “But if I remember correctly, his wife left him a while ago. There had been some rumors…”
There had been some rumors about her and Peter too, but rumors were just that: rumors. She didn't take any stock in them.
Paula suddenly shouted, “Truth or dare?” making Quinn jump. It was like they were teenagers all over again.
Lana quickly said, “Truth.” And bounced on her toes like she was fifteen.
Jesus, would someone please put a bullet in my head? Quinn needed to be put out of her misery.
Paula asked Lana, “Do you shave or wax?”
“Shave. Okay, Quinn, your turn. Truth or dare?”
Quinn was not playing this juvenile game. It was stupid; she was not going to fall into what was clearly a trap.
“Truth.”
“How bad was Peter in bed?” Lana asked.
Damn. She wasn't going to answer that one. Even as drunk as she was. She didn't want to relive their vanilla, boring lovemaking. And she definitely didn't want to admit it or talk about it.
There was only one thing left for her to do.

About the Author:
JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 started writing when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2016 and 2017. So keep an eye on her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter.