February 24, 2017

Don't Hold Back by Missy Johnson - Cover Reveal!

Release Date: March 12, 2017
Synopsis
Three countries. Two months. All expenses paid. Just you and me. About you: You’re fun loving, adventurous and you have a wicked sense of humor. You’re spontaneous, open minded and creative. You live for today because you never know what tomorrow holds. I'm Erin and this isn't your usual Craigslist Ad. I’m twenty-four, and full disclosure, I’m dying. But I don’t want your pity. What I want is your help. I’m not looking for a nanny, or for someone to hold my hand. I want a friend, a confidante, a partner in crime. I want you.
   
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Giveaway
One of Five ARC's for Don't Hold Back
 
 
 
 
About the Author
A New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Missy lives in a small town in Victoria, Australia with her husband and her confused pets (a dog who thinks that she is a cat, a cat who thinks he is a dog...you get the picture). When she's not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.  
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Garden of Goodbyes by Faith Andrews - Cover Reveal!

Cover Design: Marisa-rose Shor / Cover Me Darling
Release Date: March 13, 2017
Synopsis
Loss, betrayal, addiction . . . on their own, each of these heartaches can break you, but mix them all together and the concoction will ruin you. When I closed the door on my past I didn’t expect it to come back and haunt me. But when you’re the sole person who can save the only man you’ve ever loved, you rush through that door, face your fears, and pray for the best. Only, anything good has been long forgotten. In its place is destruction, devastation and enough regret to last a lifetime. I was appalled when she called for my help. I went willingly in hopes to make things right. But I never expected this. A broken man, a hopeless future, the beginning of the end. She’s to blame for the mess of a man in front of me and I’m to blame for walking away. Can things ever go back to the normal the three of us once knew? Or am I too late to fix the damage we’ve caused together?
 
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Giveaway
One of Five ARC's for Garden of Goodbyes
 
 
 
 
About the Author
Faith Andrews is living out her dream right outside the greatest city in the world, New York City. Happily married to her high school sweetheart, she is the mother of two beautiful and wild daughters, and a furry Yorkie son named Rocco Giovanni. When she’s not tapping her toes to a Mumford & Sons tune or busy being a dance mom, her nose is stuck in a book or she’s sitting behind the laptop, creating her next swoon worthy book boyfriend. Coffee addict, lover of wine and cheese, and sucker for concerts and Netflix, Faith believes in love at first sight and happily ever after.    
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Scars and Tats by Kristi Pelton Release Boost!




Title: Scars and Tats
Author: Kristi Pelton
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 21, 2017


Blurb


Scars are tattoos with better stories… 

A scarred, lonely woman
A curious little boy
One uninvited, tattooed guest
A nasty blizzard
One cabin
Two guns

A set of handcuffs 

What could possibly go wrong? 

Mela McKinley fled with her infant son and disappeared four years ago trying to heal the awful scars inside and out. Taking refuge in the mountains of Colorado, not one person had come near their secluded doorstep… though she was prepared for a fight. 

In the middle of a historic blizzard, little Beck points out the window to a figure approaching in the snow. After hiding Beck…and fully armed, Mela confronts Jackson Winslow and has zero reservations about shooting him, if necessary. 

Ultimately, saving him from the forces of nature, she takes the uninvited stranger prisoner in her home holding the upper hand. While cautiously tending to him, she realizes how much she has missed a man—though this scarred and tattooed man is not who he seems. Once he has invaded her thoughts in a delicious way, her guard is down and suddenly, the tables are turned and now…it’s his turn.

What she doesn’t know is who he really is and what he brings to her doorstep.








Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU





Trailer




Excerpt

If only it were still Christmas, I thought, in awe of the amount of snow that had fallen through the morning hours this spring. Beck in his newly four-year-old way pressed his forehead against the floor-to-ceiling window, watching in wonder as his breath formed a pillow of condensation that quickly disappeared. Over and over again.

The teakettle whistled, and I fingered through his hair as I walked past.

“Momma. Snow.”

I laughed. “Yes, buddy. Lots of snow.”

The whistle of the kettle faded when I pulled it from the heat, pouring Beck a hot chocolate and me my tea. The two ice cubes in his mug began to melt instantly.

“Momma, Layne.”

Stirring honey into my tea, I put one more ice cube in his cup and carried the miniature marshmallows over to him.

“No, buddy. We won’t see Layne today,” I explained, sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, which needed wood.

“Layne is right there,” he said, tapping the window.

A sudden chill shuddered up my spine as the hair on the back of my neck stood. In slow motion, my eyes moved to where Beck pointed. The figure stood a hundred yards away, thigh deep in snow. My heart began to pound. The pack on his back showed over his shoulders. I watched through the glass as the steps he tried to take led him in the direction of the cabin.

Sitting my mug on the end table, a jolt of panic shot through me but was quickly calmed by a wave of courage—of confidence.

“Beck. Come here. Now.” My words were terse, and he immediately padded over to me.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know who this is, and my job is what?”

“To protect me?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded. “To protect you. Always.”

He smiled.

“Go. Go now to your cubbyhole. You know where your food is. You know where the water bottles are. You don’t come out until Mommy comes to get you.”

“Or Layne!” he shouted.

“Yes. Or Layne. But you and Layne have a code word and no one else knows that word. So don’t come out unless you hear that word. Got it?” Tears started to sting my eyes, but I fought with every ounce of my being not let them win.

“Yes. Go now?”

“Yep! Go now, buddy. I love you.”

“I love you more!” he yelled as he ran to his hiding spot.

The moment he was gone from my view, I turned my sights on our visitor. Thank God the snow was causing him to struggle. I unhinged the loaded shotgun from the back of the front door, then retrieved the forty-caliber from behind the coffee mugs. Both guns were pumped and cocked with the chambers full in a matter of seconds. Without a coat, I stepped out onto the porch.

“Turn around right now and go back the way you came. Follow your tracks!” I yelled.

He stopped, held his hands out to the side and swayed a bit in the wind. “I need help.” His voice was muffled from the scarf covering his mouth.

“You won’t find that here. Move along,” I shouted, then tucked the pistol into my pants. Raising the shotgun to my shoulder, I nestled it tight, resting my cheek against the cold steel while I sighted him down the barrel. The pistol would be a better choice—but the shotgun may have more effect. Rock’s mom had taught me well.

“Please,” he said weakly, swaying again.

I watched as the snow cascaded. There was no wind.

“Mister. I’m warning you now. Don’t come closer.”

After another strenuous step in the near three-foot-deep snow, he stumbled backward—falling. He lay there for a minute. Hurriedly, I seized the opportunity to grab the binoculars—Beck’s toy, plastic ones, but they worked nonetheless.

Bursts of steam puffed from his mouth straight into the air. One hand rose weakly, then collapsed back down, disappearing into the powdery snow. Through the scratched-up binoculars, I watched as he mustered up enough energy to heave himself upright. Still sitting, he pulled the scarf away from his mouth exposing red, swollen lips. Quickly, I lowered the binoculars, taking him in more thoroughly. His shoes and legs were hidden in the snow. Chunks of snow clung to the North Face jacket he wore. His eyes were heavy…thick lids blinked deliberately and sluggishly.

Snow fell so heavily…a thin blanket covered him in the minute I stood frozen. Making a hasty decision, I dashed into the house once again and grabbed the handcuffs Rock’s mom had given me. From the time I darted inside to when I got back out, he hadn’t moved. Just inside the door, I clicked my snowshoes in place and threw my coat on. The pistol tucked tightly into my waistband, handcuffs in my coat pocket, and ski poles in hand…I began my trek toward him.

When I purchased the snowshoes, I had no real intention of wearing them too terribly much but they’d been on my feet more than I thought they would. Our unwanted visitor was still on his back with little to no movement. His breaths were visible in the puffs of steam in the air.

“Please don’t shoot me,” he begged albeit weakly.

“Why are you here?”

“I got caught in the storm.”

Frozen snot trailed over his upper lip.

“Why were you out here? I mean to begin with. What brought you here? There’re no trails this way.” My demanding questions spewed out quickly.

The puffs of air turned to short raspy pants.

“Lost. I…just…wanted—to get lost.”

I didn’t believe him. Anger consumed me as my hand trembled when I reached to touch him. Be strong always. The second my fingertips brushed his fiery skin; I sucked in a quick breath. He was burning up. Fever. Damn it!

Instantly, I turned around hoofing it back to the cabin and yanked Becks sled out of the corner of the front porch. Within a minute, I was back at his side. A low groan slid up his throat as I lifted him by the shoulders and scooted his upper body onto the sled. After I’d boosted his legs over, I began the trek back to the cabin remembering Beck was still in hiding. My quads and glutes burned from the haul.

Once I pulled him to the porch clearing the steps, I took a minute to breathe. Thank God, I’d trained enough to be able to heave his ass up there. He seemed to have lost consciousness at some point because as I cuffed him, he didn’t flinch. It wasn’t until I’d lugged him inside next to the fire that I exposed his hands—finding bluish tinted fingers. Instinctively, I blew on them as if they were Beck’s little fingers and I’d done that a hundred times when he’d gotten cold. How could this man’s fingers be so cold yet he was burning up with fever?

I tossed his gloves near the fire so they could dry out and warm up. The sooner I could get him out of here, the better. His fingers were swollen.

I hustled toward the hideout. “Beck!” I shouted with a whisper. “WOD. It’s ok. Come here. Mommy needs your help.”

When I pulled off the man’s stocking cap, I was captivated for a moment by his face. Though his cheeks appeared sunken in and dark rings circled his eyes, he was a beautifully, rugged man. His thick brows matched the overgrown beard. The tip of his nose was shiny and bright.

“Mommy. Who is that?”

Directing my attention toward Beck, I gave him a serious look.

“This man is sick. I need you to get me two of your cereal bowls of warm water. Not hot, ok?”

He nodded eagerly, and I watched him grab his stool and heave it into the kitchen. I felt awful keeping the man handcuffed, but I couldn’t take a chance with someone I didn’t know. I heard the water running in the kitchen and, in this moment, I was proud of the way I’d raised Beck. He needed to be independent if necessary—even if at barely four years old.

Hustling to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, I grabbed the lip butter and the ibuprofen. I darted to the kitchen and snagged a bottle of water from the fridge.

“How’s it going?”

“Good,” Beck said, walking slowly trying not to spill any water from his miniature cereal bowls—his tiny hands could barely manage.

We met near the visitor. I took the bowls from Beck.

“Nice job, buddy. Thank you.”

When Beck knelt next to him, my heart skipped a beat. Gripping Beck’s shoulders, I shook him just enough to keep his attention and for him to realize I meant business.

“We don’t know him, Beck. You must keep your distance from him. Deal?”

He nodded, backing up. “Pickle,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “You are so silly. It’s dill not deal.”

My beautiful son smiled, then found a seat on the sofa.

Kneeling next to the stranger, I balanced the bowls of water on his thighs, and then rested his fingers in the water. I tipped his head, angling his neck so his face pointed toward the ceiling. I attempted to pour some of the water through his parted lips. He instantly sputtered and choked—liquid coming back out, but thankfully his eyes opened.

“Mister,” I said.

His glossy eyes tried to focus.

“I need you to swallow this.” I kept his head upright, dropped three ibuprofen into his mouth and then tipped the bottle to his lips. When I saw his Adam’s apple jut out and back in, I knew he’d swallowed them. That was a start.

“Mommy. What’s his name?” Beck asked from the sofa.

His jeans were wet. Jeans? How ill prepared was this idiot for the storm? After I moved the bowls of water, I unfastened his jeans and began tugging them off. The elastic band of his underwear read Armani. Perfect…wealthy and dumb.

I fought looking at his crotch but the damn trunks hugged him tightly, and honestly, there was no ignoring the relaxed bulge. Once I had his jeans off, I laid them out in front of the fire, adding more wood, and then covered his lower half with a quilt. Out of sight, out of mind. And I certainly didn’t need Beck asking questions.

His lips were in pretty bad condition so I slathered a thick layer of the lip butter over them. His lower lip was full…plump. Jesus… narcolepsy really wasn’t my thing. But, hey, he was only unconscious not dead

“Mommy. What’s his name?”

“I’m sorry, Beck. I don’t know. Hold on a sec.”

I reached for his jeans, and, sure enough, the back pocket held a wallet. When I opened it, a Colorado driver’s license lay behind a thin piece of plastic.

“His name is Jackson,” I announced. “Jackson Winslow,” I whispered beneath my breath and stole a long glance at our bearded stranger.

For the first time, I noticed his hair was longer on one side. This man…this stranger was stunningly handsome. Ruggedly beautiful. I shook my head trying to erase any desire. It had been so long since I had felt the touch of a man. Yet, this man could have been sent here to find us…to hurt us…to take Beck. He was off limits.

Night was falling and the moon cast a beautiful reflection off the three-foot blanket of snow. Beck and I played checkers at the kitchen table. The flickering light of the fireplace flung shadows over the walls. Our stranger seemed to be resting peacefully.

Even though I felt bad for him being cuffed, my sole purpose for living sat across from me, and I had to do whatever was necessary to protect him.

“Buddy. Want to sleep in the hideout?”

Beck’s eyes about bulged out of his head.

“Can I?”

I stood up. “Yep. Let’s get you in there and situated.”

Beck hopped out of his chair, dashing up to his room. There wasn’t anything that could make me smile bigger than witnessing his enthusiasm for life. The boy was a spitting image of his father. Most days that was good.

There was no way of knowing or even speculating what the night could hold…so I told Beck he could come out if he needed.

Once he was hunkered down under his covers, inside his tent, with his night light on…I closed the door. I hustled to my bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face, threw on my comfy sweats to sleep in, then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before I stared blankly at the heap of man on my living room floor.

When my eyes finally adjusted to the glow from the fireplace, I noticed Jackson twitching. As I crept closer, I saw he wasn’t twitching; his body shook with tremors. Instinctively, the back of my fingers felt his forehead. Wow. He was burning up. Again.

Immediately, I ran to the kitchen, wetting a rag with cold water. Back in the living room, his eyes shot wide as the cold material made contact with his skin.

A small groan echoed up his throat, but as fast as his eyes opened, they closed. Without thinking, I yanked all the covers off of his body. I hated the ignorance of the—smother the fever philosophy. His body needed to cool down…quickly. Leaving him uncovered and with the cloth on his forehead, I got another bottle of water and snatched both the ibuprofen and the thermometer from the cupboard.

When I slid the digital thermometer between his lips, I realized some of the redness was gone. The lip butter was helping. Once again, his eyes opened. For the briefest of moments, our eyes met before his closed again.

At 104, the thermometer stopped blinking.

“Wow,” I whispered out loud, turning the cloth on his forehead to the cooler side.

“Wow,” he moaned or ow, I’m not sure which, but it caused me to sit back a bit, distancing myself. “Aaah.”

My stranger seemed delirious. The fever. It had to be the fever.

“Jackson. I need you to swallow these.” I lifted his head and slid my folded legs beneath him. I dropped four capsules in his mouth, then as gently as possible, I slapped his cheek…his beard was rough to my fingers, but regardless, his eyes opened.

I tipped the cold bottle of water to his lips. “Swallow,” I demanded, and he did. And once again, our eyes connected. Even though I stared down at him, and he was upside down to me, the force of whatever passed between us triggered me to drop his head and jerk away.

What the living hell? Did I know him? My left hand trembled as I set the water bottle next to him. Not that he could drink it. Both his hands were bound by metal. The clock read 10:15. The fever should be down within an hour. I’d check on him them. Other than that, I wanted nothing to do with him.

Sitting on the sofa, my eyes flickered back and forth between the fire and him. I heard Layne’s words in my ear. Information is good. Always find out what you can. I uncovered and picked up Jackson’s wallet from where I left it earlier.

Colorado drivers license. His picture was perfect. Who’s drivers license pic looked that good? Thirty-one years old. Six foot two. One hundred ninety pounds. Blue eyes. Organ donor. Ian was an organ donor and I had no idea if his organs were donated. If he was living inside someone else…

This man had no pictures of girls, family, kids, no pictures at all.

One Visa card.

One American Express card.

And some sort of ID. His picture—he looked younger but still strikingly handsome. United States Attorney. This man was an attorney. My mind raced in a thousand directions. I dropped his wallet at my feet. What brought this attorney in our direction? I couldn’t help but wonder if he came intentionally to my cabin or if this was some kind of fluke. But, if this man was looking for a fight…a war…he came to the right doorstep. I was ready.





Author Bio

Just the fact that someone may be reading my ‘bio’ thrills me. What does one say in an author bio? Well, I LOVE to write! Sometimes characters talk to me in my head (in a non-psychotic way) and I have to get what they are saying out on paper! So, here we are! 😊

I am a part-time juvenile probation officer and full time wife…but I spend the majority of the time helping my two favorite sons (only 2) navigate through life and hopefully become the best humans they can be.

I am a huge fan of the Kansas Jayhawks, the Oregon Ducks and the 2016 World Series Champs—the Chicago Cubs! (I have a dog named Wrigley)

I’m terribly addicted to music—ALLLLL kinds and driving in the car with the sunroof open and radio turned up helps the creative juices flow.

I am deliciously addicted to queso, Dr. Pepper, and cupcakes; but even with all that…I like to slowly kill my body with Crossfit.

People ask me ‘what has been your favorite book to write’—I would have to say my original series. (I think it sold 100 copies) 😊 Someday…I may have to tweak them a bit because my heart was poured into those books—but they need help! Slick was my Amazon best seller…but every one of them mean something to me.

In the end, I truly believe life is taken way too seriously by most…I say enjoy every moment, have an adult beverage and READ!! Cheers….



 Author Links

Dishonorable by Natasha Knight Cover Reveal!

dishonorable-banner
Title: Dishonorable
Author: Natasha Knight
Release Date: March 14th
Cover Designer: Shanoff Formats
ADD TO GOODREADS: http://bit.ly/2kN3byi
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Blurb:
Sofia
I knew little of Raphael Amado’s history with my family, but when he turned up on our doorstep demanding restitution, my grandfather quickly conceded.
That restitution? Me.
Six months later, on my eighteenth birthday, Raphael came for me. He took me from my home to his Tuscan estate where from the crumbling chapel to the burnt-down vineyard, to the cellar that haunted him, the past followed him like a shadow. It waited for him, hid behind corners for him, and trapped him at every turn.
As much as Raphael’s cruelty terrified me, his darkness seduced me.
But in the end, it was his tenderness that devastated me.
Raphael
Sofia came to me like an offering. Like a virgin to be sacrificed at the altar. But truth was, her grandfather betrayed her. I guess we had that in common. He’d fucked me too.
I knew hate. I’d vowed vengeance. This was never supposed to be about anything else.
But in the end, her innocence broke me.
The very thing I would destroy, destroyed me.
dishonorable_teaser1
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling author Natasha Knight writes dark romance as well as spanking romance in a variety of genres including contemporary, paranormal, post-apocalyptic, science-fiction and fantasy. She is a #1 Amazon Bestseller in multiple categories forever searching in every story for that single most important element of love. All of her stories contain at least one kinky Alpha male, lots of dirty talk and a well deserved happily ever after.
Connect with Natasha:


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February 23, 2017

THE WRIGHT BROTHER by K.A Linde - Excerpt Reveal!

  twbbanner       TWB Amazon 

 I'd dated his brother. He didn’t remember and I wish I could forget. I may have sworn off the Wright family a long time ago. But when I returned home, Jensen Wright crashed into my life with the confidence of a billionaire CEO and the sex appeal of a god. Even I couldn’t resist our charged chemistry, or the way he fit into my life like a missing puzzle piece. Too bad he’d forgotten the one thing that could destroy us. Because Jensen Wright doesn’t share. Not with anyone. And if his brother finds out, this could all go down in flames. When it all was said and done, was he the Wright brother? ADD TO GOODREADS  

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EXCERPT

Her smile was magnetic, and I just wanted to kiss her. I mean…I’d wanted to kiss her all night. But sitting there, in front of the last lit house, with Christmas music playing in the background and her smile radiating joy, there was nowhere else I’d rather be. That thought hit me so suddenly and I didn’t even know why. I put my truck into park, leaned over to her side of the car, and pushed my hand up into her dark hair. She froze, silhouetted by the light display behind her. Her eyes locked with mine, green meeting brown, and her eyes widened with surprise. She breathed out softly, and I could feel her pulse ratchet up at my touch. This was the girl who had pulled me across the room at Sutton’s wedding, like a magnet finding its pair. This was the tension that I’d felt when we first spoke. Here was the world of desire and lust that had clouded both of our minds ever since our first kiss. My face was only inches from hers. I wanted to take what was mine. I wanted to claim her mouth and then her body right here in the cab of my truck, like we were young, wild, and carefree. But, instead, I couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. She laughed lightly to try to defuse the tension. But it wasn’t possible, and it was a feeble effort. “Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered boldly. I didn’t need any further prodding. I crushed my lips against hers. It was like striking a match. Our lips moved against each other, desperate with the need to get closer, to have more. She opened her mouth for me, and I brushed my tongue against hers. The groan that emanated from deep in the back of her throat made my dick twitch. Our tongues volleyed for position. She was just as aching for attention as I was. I heard the click of her belt buckle, and soon, she was pushing her body closer, moving over the divide of my truck. My hands fell to her ass, and I effortlessly hoisted her up and into my seat. She squeaked in shock but didn’t break contact. Instead, she straddled me and let her hands wander across my chest. My hands never left her ass because, damn, did that woman have an ass. She was grinding up against me, and I moved into a full-blown hard-on at her ministrations. She must have realized what she was doing to me because, when she swiveled her hips in place, she moaned against the feel of my dick. In that moment, I didn’t give a shit that we were acting like teenagers, parked outside of a stranger’s house, bucking against each other for just an ounce of satisfaction. I was ready to strip her bare and fuck her until she forgot every word to every Christmas song and only remembered my name. That was, until she rocked back just a little too hard, and a loud honk erupted from the hood of the truck.     teaser5_CS   Kyla

K.A. Linde is the USA Today bestselling author of more than fifteen novels including the Avoiding series and the Record series. She has a Masters degree in political science from the University of Georgia, was the head campaign worker for the 2012 presidential campaign at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and served as the head coach of the Duke University dance team. She loves reading fantasy novels, geeking out over Star Wars, binge-watching Supernatural, and dancing in her spare time. She currently lives in Lubbock, Texas, with her husband and two super adorable puppies.