Thursday, June 30, 2016



Lawd! Would you look at that smile?

Yes, we promise theres a smile. Look up. Keep going. There it is!

Get ready, world. This is our favorite book yet. ;)

Preorder on iBooks: https://goo.gl/M8W68J
Add to TBR: https://goo.gl/tScD5W

Release Date: July 26, 2016
Title: Banking the Billionaire
Series: Billionaire Bad Boys Book 2
Author: Max Monroe
Cover Designer: Perfect Pear Creative

Blurb:
Uninhibited. Sarcastic. Confident. Beautiful.
With a thriving photography career that allows her to travel all over the world and capture the hottest of men behind her camera lens, Cassie Phillips is the woman who can’t be tamed.

Adrenaline-junkie. Jokester. Billionaire. Hot-as-sin.
At six-foot-five, with muscles for days, and that perfect playful smile, Thatcher Kelly is the kind of man you don’t want to deny.

Wild for wild.
Prank for prank.
The two most unlikely of people may be the only ones to see that some personality traits only run skin deep.

Uncensored. Hilarious. And too damn hot to put into words.
Grab a fan and get ready for one hell of a ride because when the opposite of opposites attract, things are bound to get a little messy.


Disclaimer:

Authors are not responsible for feelings of lunacy, unhealthy attachment, or withdrawals following the completion of Banking the Billionaire.


Personal injury lawsuits should be fictional in nature and brought against Thatcher Kelly and Cassie Phillips. Honorable Judge MyCover presiding. 

Tuesday, June 28, 2016


Wicked Ride (The Wicked Horse Series Book #4) By Sawyer Bennett 
Release Date: June 28, 2016


Synopsis: I think this woman may be the death of me. A dire prediction, but probably true. Probably true because she’s not mine to have and I’ll probably take her, even at the risk to my own safety. So many men slobbering to get a taste of her and only one, sweet, virginal girl to go around. That’s right. She’s a virgin. Looking like a porcelain china doll that would break if not handled carefully. But I also know she’s stronger than she looks. She’s a contradiction. She’s most likely my downfall. Like I said, she’ll probably be the death of me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. **Warning: this book has sex in it. Lots of sex. Dirty sex. The Wicked Horse Series is a bit different than what Sawyer Bennett normally writes. While you’ll still enjoy fabulous characters, a suspenseful story, some witty banter and an epic romance, there’s just… a lot of sex. You’ve been warned.

  Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30194043-wicked-ride


 



  Purchase Wicked Ride: 
B&N: http://bit.ly/1sxUc3i   
iBooks: http://apple.co/1RME4Ei 
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1U4lWss 
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1RZpeWm 


  About the Author: Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released more than 30 books and has been featured on both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists on multiple occasions. A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone. Sawyer likes her Bloody Mary’s strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or a combination of the two.

  Connect with Sawyer: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bennettbooks Twitter: https://twitter.com/BennettBooks Instagram: https://instagram.com/sawyerbennett123/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Sawyer_Bennett

  Sign up for Sawyer’s newsletter: http://sawyerbennett.com/signup/

Thursday, June 23, 2016



FILTHY_ENGLISH_EXCERPT.jpg


Chapter 1

Remi

Plain and simple, this night sucked.
Sadly, it was my honeymoon.
I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported dark clothing with long, loose cloaks. Not me though. I’d gone modern with a slinky little number and three-inch heels, putting my height at nearly six feet. Yep, I’m the giant in the blue dress, towering over every girl and some guys at the bar.
My top teeth dug into my bottom lip as I gazed around the smoky club, my eyes bouncing off random faces. Even in a room full of party people, music, and strobe lights, I was lonely.
My groom was missing.
That’s right. Hartford Wilcox, Jr., aka Mr. Nice Guy at Whitman University in North Carolina, had jilted me two weeks before the big wedding day as we had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s.
And now here I was—on my honeymoon and getting trashed with my best friend Lulu who’d decided to skip her beach vacation and come with me at the last minute.
She poked me with her finger as we sat in front of the heavy wooden bar of the club. “Hey, Earth to Remi, get that glazed look out of your eyes and order a drink already. I’m thirsty.” She fluffed her pixie-cut pink hair and straightened her black tutu, eyes scoping out the club. “Dang, the men in here are hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch,” she said in her honeyed southern drawl.
I half-heartedly agreed, not really caring, more intent on scanning the bottles behind the bar. “I want tequila,” I murmured. “A whole bottle.”
Her face snapped back to me and her green eyes widened. “Uh-uh. No way. I know what happens when you drink that crap. You either eat a ton of tacos and puke, or you wrap yourself around some cocky bastard with a well-developed tush.”
True. I did love a tight muscular ass.
But I wouldn’t get one tonight.
A short laugh burst out of me, one of those I’m-miserable-but-pretending-to- be-okay-laughs that I’d been doing a lot of lately. For the past two weeks, I’d vacillated between a sobbing mess and an angry woman who became so incensed that “fuck” was the only word that seemed appropriate in any given situation. Going to the post office to mail he dumped me, but thank you anyway cards. Fuck. Going to the wedding venue and not getting the ten thousand dollar deposit back. Fuck. Realizing I was homeless fall semester—which was in two weeks—fuck. Listening to my mother tell me it was my fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The bartender delivered my bottle and poured me a shot. I sucked the tequila down while Lulu watched me warily. It tasted like bad decisions and gasoline, but tonight was about forgetting. The sooner the better.
A few minutes later, Lulu went out to dance with a British guy she’d been making eyes at. I sat glumly at the bar, fiddling with my diamond tennis bracelet, rubbing it like rosary beads. I needed to forget Hartford, and according to Lulu, that meant hooking up with someone.
Was she right?
Fate answered in the form of a beautiful man—and by beautiful I mean drop-dead sexy with a backside so delectable and muscular my mouth plopped open.
I snapped my lips shut and adjusted my velvet half-mask—the annoying feathery plumes on the sides kept sticking to my red lipstick—and turned ever so slightly to check him out, not wanting to appear obvious. He slid into the seat next to me, tall and broad with rippling shoulders and a massive frame.
I checked my appearance in a mirror behind the bar, mentally analyzing the odds of a girl like me snagging a hottie like him.
Although no one had ever called me beautiful, I did have two—okay, maybe three—things going for me in the looks department. My shiny, golden-brown hair that hung down in waves to my shoulders, my fluffy “pillow lips” as Lulu described them, and lastly, I had an itsy bitsy space between my two front teeth which were otherwise white and perfect. Lulu claimed the gap lent me an exotic look, like Madonna or Sookie Stackhouse. Whatever. I was a True Blood fan. I went with it.
He shifted on the stool, leaning closer to me. His cologne swirled in the air, the smell of expensive Scotch and musk mingling together to create a heady, slightly dangerous scent. I paused, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. The spicy whiff triggered a distant memory just out of reach.
As slyly as I could, I studied his profile from top to bottom. Like me he wore a black mask, although his was more masculine, not hiding his chiseled, movie star jawline. His lips were carnal and luscious, the bottom more plump than the top with a slight indentation in the middle. As I watched, his tongue swept out and caressed it, his top teeth biting it as if he were deep in thought. He raked a hand through his dark, longish messy hair, held it suspended above his head for a few seconds and then released it, letting it swish back into its tousled yet perfect place.
I tore my eyes away.
Something about him sent loud warning bells ringing in every atom of my body.
Danger, danger. Don’t touch that.
But my gaze would not be denied as I took in the tight black shirt and sculpted chest that was obviously used to the inside of a gym, right down to an arm that looked like it could snap a board in half—or me.
Nice biceps, Mr. Beautiful.
The pièce de résistance was the vivid blue and orange dragonfly tattoo displayed on his left arm. It was larger than my hand and took up most of his bicep. My eyes traced the contours of the design from the papery wings to the multi-faceted eyes. A bold black color outlined the insect, giving it a masculine feel.
Gorgeous.
True Religion jeans stretched down long legs and ended in a pair of black Converse without socks, giving him a boyish quality that was in direct contrast to the crazy-sexy-bad-boy vibe he had going on.
Him tonight?
Maybe. He was the polar opposite of Hartford who was blond, lean, and tattoo-free.
I nibbled on my fingernail. How do I get him to notice little ol' me?
Just then a redhead with fluffy Farrah Fawcett hair strode up to his stool, bold as brass, wearing a tight, white mini-skirt that barely covered her booty. She brought with her the smell of sweet, cloying perfume, the kind I always got spritzed with at the mall.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, casually rubbed her finger down his arm and struck up a conversation. Her fake, black lashes—which she’d somehow managed to get outside the eyeholes of her mask—batted. She puffed out her well-developed chest.
He smiled back at her with a wicked grin, his relaxed body language telling me he was confident when it came to women. She whispered in his ear, boobs right in his face, but whatever he said back wasn’t what she wanted to hear because a few ticks later, she crossed her arms, glared at me, and stalked away.
I blinked. What had I done?
Then he turned and pointed his devastating smile at me.
Shit, he’d made eye contact—as much as you could with a claustrophobic mask on.
But wait…
Was he crazy?
Because if he’d turned down her flirtation, I didn’t have a shot.
I didn’t know how to do the fingers-tip-toeing-up-his-arm-thing and sexy hair flicking. I didn’t know a thing about applying fake eyelashes. I didn’t know how to make my breasts sit up that high. I looked away from him and took another shot, feeling anxious and strangely off-kilter.
Mr. Beautiful ordered a drink from the bartender, his British accent smooth as silk as it washed over me. I froze. I almost knew that voice—deep with soft rounded vowels that made you tingle in your lady parts.
What was it about this guy that had me all jacked up and hot for him?
Hello, tequila, my inner voice said. But it was more than that.
Getting brave, I pivoted on my barstool, and found Mr. Beautiful’s eyes on me once more, searching my face. As if he too recognized the pull between us.
My heart played hopscotch, jumping against my chest. My skin prickled. I shivered.
Did I know him?
It clicked.
Dax Blay?
It was his voice, the same deep quality, the kind of voice that made you want to hop into his bed and ride him like a cowgirl.
My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the emotion that zipped up my spine whenever I thought of him. He was my one mistake, the time I’d tossed inhibitions and carefully laid plans aside and went with my instincts, only to have them tossed back in my face.
But the man next to me wasn’t Dax. Thank God.
Last spring at the campus-wide end of the year fraternity party with Hartford, I’d seen Dax, and he’d had shorter hair, like always, and zero tattoos. Yeah. No way.
Plus, last I heard, he was in Raleigh where his father lived.
Yet…
Dax was British. He could have family here. Maybe he got a tattoo?
Nah. I mean, what were the odds of us both being at the same club on the same night in a country where neither of us lived?
I tore my eyes off Mr. Beautiful and waved at a bartender for more limes, but somehow my tennis bracelet snagged on the bodice of my dress, leaving my wrist dangling like a wet dishrag in a most inappropriate place.
I wiggled my arm.
Jiggled it.
Even went so far as to jerk, but it wouldn’t separate.
Sweat popped out on my forehead. Holding my breath, I twisted and tugged the bracelet, forcing the delicate material in my bodice to stretch beyond normal limits.
“Well, hell,” I breathed, pausing to assess.
Skin-tight with a plunging neckline, the dress was mostly a stretchy fabric held together by sequined straps and a zipper on the side. Slated as part of my honeymoon wardrobe, it was a Tory Burch and had cost four hundred dollars, the most I’d ever paid for a fun outfit, and no way did I want to damage it. I might have to return it to rent an apartment at Whitman.
Lulu. I needed Lulu. She was a whiz with wardrobe malfunctions.
I spun around on the barstool and used my free hand to wave at her, but she was slinging herself around dancing, having a great time and completely oblivious. I resorted to flapping both hands at her, one high and one low. Several people waved back with baffled expressions, but Lulu didn’t notice. Dammit.
I groaned and slumped down in my seat, ready to scream. Now what? Go to the bathroom and repair it there? Good plan.
But the club tilted when I stood, the strobe lights making me squint as they flashed in my face. I wobbled in my leopard print heels—that Lulu had insisted I wear—and grabbed the stool to keep my balance. `
I sucked in a breath to gather myself, but I couldn’t think straight. The room spun, and I was suddenly queasy, and why did I slam all that tequila, and oh my god, my wrist is currently attached to my tit like a T. rex arm.
I had to get out of here before someone noticed what an idiot I was.
Trying to be stealth like, I reached across the bar to get my beaded clutch, but because it was my left hand and not my right that I used most of the time, I got off balance and stumbled—and my ankle folded in on itself. I yelped as my shoe catapulted off my foot and vaulted off toward the dance floor, while I fell forward, straight into Mr. Beautiful’s lap.

Filthy English (unedited excerpt)
Copyright Ilsa Madden-Mills

FILTHY_ENGLISH_COMING_SOON.jpg

The British are HERE!  
Are you ready for Filthy English?
Add to your TBR for a July 11th release here: http://bit.ly/28MpTlk


FILTHY-ENGLISH-EBOOK.jpg

Blurb

A smokin’ hot British player…
A jilted girl…
One night of mistaken identity…

Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.

She didn't plan on attending a masquerade party.

She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.

Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.

But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…

One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.

*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*

**no one dies in the writing of this novel**

Filthy English Teaser for Blogs 1.jpg

About the Author
ilsa madden -millsa.jpg
New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She's addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she's a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.

She has a degree in English and a Master's in Education.

When she's not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

You can stalk her on her website as well as get signed books: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorilsamaddenmills?pnref=lhc

IG: https://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/

Twitter: @ilsamaddenmills

Ilsa Madden-Mills’ other books:

VERY BAD THINGS

VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1K5NvX8

VERY WICKED THINGS

VERY TWISTED THINGS

THANK YOU!
TRSOR_PROMOTIONS.jpg


Tuesday, June 21, 2016

LAST KISS BLOG TOUR BANNER

Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige 

Series: First and Last #2 

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press 

Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Contemporary Romance

 

"Visceral, enticing, shining with white lies and dark truths, seductive twists and turns, and a love that takes your breath away." – Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author

last kiss cover

Synopsis:

A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE FILLED WITH DARK DESIRES AND DANGEROUS SECRETS… Emily Wayborn has made a decision. She might not fully trust handsome and deadly Reeve Sallis, but he is the one person that gives her what she needs. With Reeve she can finally be herself. Submitting to him is the only thing keeping her grounded as the rest of her life falls apart. But the hotelier is a master at keeping secrets and as she continues her quest for answers someone is making sure she doesn’t find them. Time is running out and she is questioning everything she thought she knew about friendship and love. She must now make an impossible choice that will determine if she will survive with her heart…or at all.  

Add to your TBR on Goodreads

LastKiss_SocialWhim_E (1)

Buy Links:

Last Kiss

Amazon / Amazon UK / iBooks / Barnes and Noble / Google / Kobo

 

First Touch

Amazon / Amazon UK / iBooks / Barnes and Noble / Google / Kobo Now available on Audible!

LastKiss_SocialWhim_F

Excerpt:

  Reeve smirked—he loved it when I begged—but he didn’t take me where I wanted to go. Instead, with his fingers pinching my chin, he twisted my face so that my cheek pressed against the glass. “Look,” he said in reverence. The mirror ran the whole wall behind me then wrapped around the vanity so, facing this direction, I could see our reflections in the glass, half eclipsed by steam from the shower. He let go of me long enough to wipe the fog then resumed his grip on my jaw. I stared, transfixed by the sight of his cock driving into me over and over. With my focus where he wanted it, Reeve rearranged my legs, bringing one foot up to brace on the counter and propping the other in the sink. Now I was angled so that my cunt could better be seen in the mirror. It was naughty and erotic and I couldn’t stop staring. “Look at that,” he said again, his fingers jabbing into my skin. “The way you let me use you is so beautiful.” Beautiful. It was beautiful. The way he had me spread out awkwardly across the bathroom sink, naked while he was still clothed—it was vile and wicked and oh, so beautiful. “I can’t control myself when I’m inside you.” His voice was ragged and threadbare. “I want to tear you apart. I want to rip you to shreds.” He moved both of his hands to grasp my thighs, tilting my pelvis so that his thrusts hit even deeper. “I want to destroy you. Want to fuck you to pieces. Want to shatter you. Want to break you.” His awful, wonderful words set a storm to gather low inside me, and I could tell that this time it wouldn’t back down. I shifted my hands from the counter to his forearms to brace myself for its attack. The movement drew his attention from the mirror to my face. “Want to break you,” he repeated, his words more of a rumble than actual speech. “You do,” I said, peering up under heavy lids, my voice a mere rasp. “You do break me. Every time.” Reeve’s eyes sparked in awe, then the muscles in his neck grew taut and his rhythm stuttered. With a low growl, he froze and spilled into me, his fingers digging so deep into my skin I was sure they’d leave bruises on my thighs. It was so hot, how he defiled and wrecked me. So hot how he loved to see me devastated. So hot that I joined him in his release. My mouth fell open and my climax took over, coarsely racking through my body. Even with the mirror supporting my back, I was freefalling, spinning with pleasure. Only a thin layer of sweat and steam covered my body, but it felt like I’d been pulled underwater into a whirlpool of bliss. Reeve put himself away, then watched me as I finished, as if completely enamored with my orgasm. As if completely enamored with me. It was somewhat disconcerting to feel his eyes so heavy on me. He’d seen me come so many times before, but I’d never noticed him so intent. I lowered my gaze, but he lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his stare head-on. With a gentle touch, he swept a lock of sweat-drenched hair from my forehead. “Every time?” He’d been tender with me in the past, but it wasn’t his usual M.O., and it startled me. Moved me as I realized it came from a place of concern. “Yes,” I answered honestly, because he did break me, every time that he stuck his cock inside me, every time that he made me climax, every time that he touched me. Outside of the moment, when the sex was over and we were people instead of sex-driven beasts, it sounded horrible. Who would want to be broken by her lover? Who would want to be destroyed? I do. I always did. I longed for it and needed it. I needed him. I caught his hand and pressed the back of it to my cheek. “It’s the only reason I ever want to be someone who’s put together. So that you can break me all over again.”  

About Laurelin:

laurelinpaige

  NY Times & USA Today Bestselling author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender.  

Facebook / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Instagram / Website Don’t miss a release. Sign up for Laurelin’s Newsletter.

 

Check out this GIVEAWAY for a chance to win a signed paperback of Last Kiss or a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

     

Wednesday, June 15, 2016




Title: The Other Side Of Someday
Author: T.K. Leigh
Genre: Romantic Comedy / Chick Lit 
 Release Date: June 6, 2016



Blurb

You know how you always say someday I will?
Well, I’ve hit my someday.
Someday begins today.

Baylee Morgan is at a crossroads of her life. Leaving her marriage of ten years and the only life she’s ever known, she starts over in a penthouse ocean-front condo in Santa Monica, California. She soon finds herself immersed, albeit reluctantly, in the daunting and perilous world of dating as an almost thirty-something in Los Angeles, unsure of how to act, what to do, or whether that hot guy she meets in yoga class is straight.

Sebby Powers’ dream has always been to work in the film industry. At the age of thirty-five, he’s one of the youngest up-and-coming producers in Hollywood. His life is perfect. Perfect apartment. Perfect girlfriend. Perfect dog. Until a friendship with a beautiful woman with vibrant red hair and a similar taste in cheesy movies throws his perfect life into a tailspin. 

The Other Side Of Someday is a fun, sexy story of looking for Mr. Right in a world full of Mr. Wrongs, when Mr. Right could be just next door.




Purchase Links

NOW IN KINDLE UNLIMITED

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU





Excerpt

“Sebby?” I called out, hesitantly walking through the entryway and into the open living space.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed when my eyes settled on him standing in front of his refrigerator. But that wasn’t what caught me completely off-guard. It was the fact that he was standing there, holding a towel in his hand, exposing himself in all his glory. I quickly spun around, my entire face turning a shade of red that would put my hair color to shame.

“Fuck!” he shouted. “Do you take the world’s quickest shower or something?!”

“Balls,” I muttered, keeping my eyes glued to a large print of a vintage DC-10 that was hanging on the entryway wall.

“What?” he countered, his voice turning light and amused. I could almost picture that sexy and adorable smile drawn on those kissable lips of his.

“There were balls. And stuff.”

He laughed harder than I had heard him laugh in the few weeks I had known him, the rumble echoing in the open space.

“I’ll never be able to look at you again without seeing your balls, Sebby. Just thought you should know that.” I drew a long breath, trying to settle my nerves. Seeing his mouth-watering body completely bare didn’t help matters any. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go back to my apartment. I’m going to have a shot of whiskey. Or tequila. Or gin. Or whatever will make my blood pressure drop. And then I’m going to come back and we’ll try this again, okay?”

“I promise I’ll be dressed when you come back.”

“Why were you bare ass naked in your kitchen anyway? Did you want me to walk in on you like that? Trying to show off?”

“Do you think I have something to show off?”

“I… Well…” I shook it off. “I’m not answering that.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

“Baylee…?”

“Yes?” I turned around as one often does when their name is called.

“Jesus!” His expression grew wide and he hastily attempted to hide himself.

“For fuck’s sake!” I spun back and faced the door once more. “Did you not think to cover yourself up after the first time I walked in and saw you naked? I’m still standing here. You know that bath towels serve some rather astonishing purposes these days, the most useful of which being something to wrap around your waist to keep your junk covered! I’m leaving and taking two shots of whiskey. Be back in five minutes.”






Author Bio


T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is a USA Today Best Selling author of the Beautiful Mess series, in addition to several other works. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern California with her husband, dog, three cats, all of which she has rescued (including the husband). In late 2015, she gave birth to her first (and only) baby. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be found training for her next marathon (of which she has run over fifteen fulls and far too many halfs to recall) or keeping her daughter entertained.

T.K. Leigh is represented by Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. All publishing inquiries, including audio, foreign, and film rights, should be directed to her.


Author Links

Tuesday, June 14, 2016




        Into the Light

An investigator’s search for a friend draws her into a world darker than she could have imagined.
Sara Adams awakes bling, unable to remember the most basic details of her life, but her darkness seems a blessing when she discovers the terrors of The Light.
Stella Montgomery investigates the news on the mean streets of Detroit, where she’s noticed a disturbing trend: young women are vanishing. When her best friend disappears, Stella investigates—despite warnings from her police detective boyfriend—following a twisted trail that leads her through the city’s most dangerous and forsaken precincts. There she uncovers something more sinister than she could have imagined: a shadowy organization known as The Light, led by the enigmatic Father Gabriel.
As Sara struggles to understand her place in these strange world she’s awakened to—an oppressive cult demanding unquestioning obedience—and her feelings for Jacob, the husband she can’t recall and whose harsh and tender attentions confuse and beguile her, Stella risks all to discover the truth. But enlightenment always comes with a price…

AMAZON

     
Into the Light teaser 2
Sara
Though I’d hoped to learn more about his meeting, with the events of the day and the warmth of his silent embrace, in no time at all, I began to drift off to sleep. I was nearly there when Jacob moved. Rolling me to my back, he hovered close and smoothed my long hair away from my face.
“Are you still awake?” he asked, his minty breath blowing over me.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry…”
His simple apology had my full attention. I wasn’t sure I remembered hearing those words from him.
“…I meant to tell you how well you did at service.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I was scared, but Raquel and Elizabeth were with me the entire time. And Brother Benjamin,” I added, suddenly fearful of not acknowledging that a man had helped. He continued to run his fingers through my hair. “I didn’t want you to think that I’d been quiet because of anything you’d done. You were perfect.”
It was difficult for me not to ask the questions running through my tired mind, but Lying on my back helped me remember. “Thank you, Jacob. I want you to be proud. I’m sorry that I embarrassed you. I’m sure that’s what Father Gabriel was speaking to you about.”
His hand and breath stilled, as if he was considering his words carefully. “We’re leaving the clinic tomorrow. However, instead of going to our apartment, we’ll be staying at the pole barn for a while.”
“I don’t remember our apartment or the pole barn, but I’ll go wherever you take me.”
His lips brushed mine. The light touch ignited a park that detonated flickers of yearning throughout my body. I lifted my lips to his, wanting more than the chaste endearment.
“Sara, I…” Jacob didn’t complete his sentence; instead his hand slipped behind my heard, pulling me toward him. His kiss, no longer apathetic, devoured. Zeal radiated from his lips, and soon his breaths were labored. Like magnets we were drawn toward one another, closer and closer. My body liquefied, becoming pliable to his touch, while conversely, his hardened, ready to claim what was already his.
As the heat of our passion washed over us, I forgot my punishment. My attention went elsewhere. A tug on my hair propelled my head to tilt, while the persistence of his minty tongue encouraged my lips to part. Whimpers and moans reverberated in my mouth and bubbled forth. They were wordless sounds declaring my body’s approval.
The large, strong hands that had delivered pain now brought pleasure. I reached for his broad shoulders, opening my arms and willfully surrendering to his kisses. With a palpable hunger, his mouth moved from my lips to my neck and down to my collarbone. His actions sent shivers to my toes and tremors to my insides. Each kiss moved lower until he reached the neckline of my nightgown. The bra I’d worn to service was gone. My breaths quickened as each button cam undone, leaving me bare and exposed to his desires.
The sound of my heart echoed in my ears as he praised my beauty and whispered admiration for what was his. When he wasn’t speaking, his lips moved lower as his five o’clock shadow tantalized my sensitive skin. It was as his skilled fingers joined the assault, kneading my breasts and twisting my hardened nipples, that primal sounds came from in my throat. It wasn’t that I feared speaking. It was that words weren’t forming. Wanting what he could give, I reached for his head, wove my fingers through his hair, and pulled him closer.
Suddenly he stopped and pulled away, leaving me open to the cool air.
Dazed and chilled, I reached for my nightgown. Embarrassed and hurt, I began to button it.
“Did I do something wrong?”


Into the Light teaser 1

aleatharomig1
Aleatha Romig is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Indiana. She grew up in Mishawaka, graduated from Indiana University, and is currently living south of Indianapolis. Aleatha has raise three children with her high school sweetheart and husband or nearly thirty years. Before she became a full-time author, she worked days as a dental hygienist and spent her nights writing. Now, when she’s not imagining mind-blowing twists and turns, she likes to spend her time with her family and friends. Her other pastimes include reading and creating heroes/anti-heroes who haunt your dreams!
Aleatha released her first novel, CONSEQUENCES, in August 2011. CONSEQUENCES became a bestselling series with five novels and two companions released from 2011 through 2015. The compelling and epic story of Anthony and Claire Rawlings has graced more than half a million e-readers. Aleatha released the first of her series TALES FROM THE DARK SIDE, INSIDIOUS, in the fall of 2014. The standalone thrillers continue Aleatha’s twisted style with an increase in heat.
In the fall of 2015, Aleatha moved head first into the world of dark romance with the release of BETRAYAL, the first of her five novel INFIDELITY series. She also began her traditional publishing career with Thomas and Mercer. Her books INTO THE LIGHT and AWAY FROM THE DARK will be published through this mystery/thriller publisher in 2016.
Aleatha is a “Published Author’s Network” member of the Romance Writers of America and represented by Danielle Egan-Miller of Browne & Miller Literary Associates.

FACEBOOK / INSTAGRAM / TWITTER / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE / AUDIBLE / BLOG / GOODREADS / PINTEREST / NEWSLETTER

Monday, June 13, 2016

LAST KISS RDB BANNER 2.jpg

Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige Series: First and Last #2 Publisher: St. Martin’s Press Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Contemporary Romance

last kiss cover

"Visceral, enticing, shining with white lies and dark truths, seductive twists and turns, and a love that takes your breath away." – Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author

Synopsis:

A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE FILLED WITH DARK DESIRES AND DANGEROUS SECRETS…
Emily Wayborn has made a decision. She might not fully trust handsome and deadly Reeve Sallis, but he is the one person that gives her what she needs. With Reeve she can finally be herself. Submitting to him is the only thing keeping her grounded as the rest of her life falls apart. But the hotelier is a master at keeping secrets and as she continues her quest for answers someone is making sure she doesn’t find them. Time is running out and she is questioning everything she thought she knew about friendship and love. She must now make an impossible choice that will determine if she will survive with her heart…or at all.  

Add to your TBR on Goodreads

 
Last-Kiss-AN

Buy Links

Amazon / Amazon UK / iBooks / Barnes and Noble / Google / Kobo

Last-Kiss---Spread

About Laurelin:

laurelinpaige
NY Times & USA Today Bestselling author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender.

Facebook / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Instagram / Website Don’t miss a release. Sign up for Laurelin’s Newsletter

 

Check out this Giveaway for a chance to win a signed paperback of Last Kiss or a $25 Amazon Gift Card! a Rafflecopter giveaway