Cover Reveal with Excerpt & Giveaway for 'Reckless Surrender (Made For Love #2)' by R.C. Martin




Title: Reckless Surrender
Series: Made For Love #2
Author: R.C. Martin
Genre: New Adult Romance
Cover Design: Louisa at LM Creations
 Release Date: August 4, 2015

Blurb

[Reckless Surrender is book two in the Made for Love series but can be read as a STAND ALONE novel. Written for audiences 18+ years of age.]
 

Three and a half years ago, Daphne walked into my shop, kicked open the door to my soul, invited herself inside, and got comfortable. By the time I realized she’d made herself at home, it was too late to kick her out. Now, I’m in love with her. But I’m not her boyfriend. She’s not my lover. We’re just friends…

Trevor’s it for me. I love him so much it drives me crazy. But we’re broken—two battered people whose souls have been ravaged by the world. We decided a long time ago that we wanted to love each other but not attempt to fix one another. Instead, we give each other as much as we can. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s ever going to be enough…

I don’t want to be her bandaid.


I don’t want to be his addiction.

But if we never cross that line, will I lose her?

If I don’t tell him what I want, will I lose myself?




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Excerpt

I twist my bangs back away from my face and pin them in place before washing off today’s makeup. I feel completely plain without it, but it’s also refreshing to be rinsed clean and I know present company doesn’t mind. Speaking of which, I’m glad I get to keep him for the night. I love it when that happens. We don’t exactly make a habit of it, but I always sleep better cocooned in his arms. It makes me feel like I’m his. I guess in some ways I am, even though I’m not. I certainly don’t belong to anyone else. I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else—even if being with Trevor without actually being with Trevor one day breaks my heart.
 
I shake the thought away, aware that I’m starting to think too much. He’s here, now, and that’s what he can give me. Besides that, it’s more than anyone else gets. This is how it is between us. It works.
 
I stop just inside the doorway of my bedroom, caught off guard by what awaits. Or should I say, who? I have to stifle a small gasp at the sight of him—not because I’m startled by his change in appearance, but because he leaves me breathless. He’s so damn mesmerizing I can’t help but stare. Every. Time.
 
At this point, I think it’s safe to assume I’ll never get used to the masterpiece that he is, and that’s more than fine.
 
It’s quite apparent that he has endured the confines of his dress attire for as long as he can stand it. I can’t mourn the lost image of him all spruced up, not when I have the image of him all stripped down to admire. All he has on is a pair of gym shorts. He keeps a pair stowed away in my dresser for nights like these. He’s sitting at the window, which he has opened, with one leg straddling the bench and the other bent in front of him so that he might rest his beer atop his knee.
 
Trevor isn’t built like an athlete. He isn’t bulky with muscle. He isn’t lanky, like me, either. He’s made up of lean, toned lines that whisper of the physical power that makes him all man. But his inner strength? All the vulnerable and fragile pieces of him that make him so strong, the pieces of him that I love so much, that’s what catches my eye.
 
He wears his heart on his sleeve. Literally. The world might not know it, but I do. I know that every inch of ink that covers his beautiful skin tells his story. The tattoo on his left arm stretches from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder and spills over his heart. I can’t see it now, because of the way he’s sitting, but I know he’s got script tattooed down his left side across his ribs. Finally, his right arm is adorned in a half sleeve. I say finally not as a way to express finality, but simply the end of his list for now. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that he’s dreaming of more.
 
“Daph! Your beer’s getting warm!” he yells, his gaze still directed out the window.
 
I grin, partly because I love how he knows I hate it when my beer gets even the slightest bit warm; partly because he hasn’t noticed me standing here staring at him. “I’m right here,” I say as I continue to make my way into the room. I speak softly, but I startle him just the same.
 
“Shit, Wings—” he mutters, spitting out his nickname for me as he jumps. He has to snatch up his beer as his leg shoots out in front of him. I laugh and grab my half empty bottle from off of the edge of the bookshelf where he’s lined up our reserve. “How long were you standing there?”
 
“Not long,” I lie. I sit opposite of him, bending my knees and propping my feet up.
 
“Sure,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me in disbelief. I smirk in response.
 
Now this is one of those moments where, if we were in a movie or a romance novel, he’d crawl across the bench and kiss me. But this isn’t a fairy tale and he won’t kiss me because I won’t let him. We can’t go there. What he and I share, it works because we don’t go there. As crazy as it might sound, our restraint excites me. Simply knowing that he feels it, too, makes this moment more intimate than not.
 
He brings his beer up to his lips and tilts his head back as he empties the remaining contents into his mouth. As he sucks out every last drop, he watches me watch him and I get lost in his oval eyes. His irises are in a glorious state of confusion, unsure of whether or not they are blue or green. His hair struggles with the same color dilemma, his dark blonde locks sometimes appearing light brown, depending on how the light hits them.
 
For just a second, I imagine running my fingers through his soft, loose, curls. Or, at least, I consider them curls; or they would be—big, beautiful, silky curls—if he grew his hair out longer. I know he won’t. He likes to keep his slightly shaggy, fuck-me-now mane just long enough to entice you to do just that. Except, we won’t be doing that, either.
 
His gaze is still locked with mine. He’s teasing me. I know it. He knows it—but this is our game. I can’t look away first. If I do, he’s won. So instead, I bring my beer to my lips, tilt my head back, and drink, all the while watching him watch me.

When we’re both finished, he stands and takes my empty bottle before leaning down to kiss my neck, just below my ear. “You win, Wings,” he murmurs. I grin, feeling victorious. “But you left the bottle opener in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me once more as a reward and then turns to leave.





Author Bio

R.C. Martin finds it a bit awkward referring to herself in the third person, so she's only going to do it for this one sentence. (We all know who's writing this bio anyway!)

I'm a born and bred Coloradan. I will always claim that square state as my home! While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I've left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. I'm a woman in love with love and filled to the brim with compassion for women like me, on a journey to find themselves in today's society. I aspire to inspire my readers to do more than settle. I hope that my writing will remind everyone that she (or he!) is valuable and worthy of the best kind of love--the kind that is gentle, patient, faithful, passionate, all consuming, never ending, and leaves you breathless.

When I'm not writing I'm reading; when I'm not reading I'm writing...you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I'm an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.


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New Release Blitz with Excerpt & Giveaway for The Truth of Tristan Lyons by L.B. Dunbar




Title: The Truth of Tristan Lyons
Series: Legendary Rock Stars #4
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Rock Star Romance
 Release Date: July 27, 2015

Blurb

Heartbreaker.

I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.

I need a break. I want to be alone. I'm not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I'm not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she's here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren't they?

Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.

Until her.




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Excerpt

The Truth of Tristan Lyons excerpt © L.B. Dunbar

I wanted to know who she was. Scratch that, I didn’t care who she was. I wanted to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes.  They knew no shame. 
“Hey,” I said grabbing her upper arm. “How did you get in here?”
She seemed caught unaware of my approach and screamed loudly, pushing at my chest hard enough, the sheer surprise forced me to let go of her.
With her hand on her chest and her breasts rising and falling in great agitation, I was able to see her big blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and catch her breath.
Standing up almost as quickly as she bent over, she spoke to me through delicious looking pink lips.
“Who the fuck are you?” she growled.
“Who the fuck, are you?” I returned.
“I’m…”
“You know what, never mind. You need to go,” I said, cutting her off and reaching for her upper arm again. “I don’t know how you got in here, where you came from, or how you found me, but you need to go.”
I began to tug her toward the front entry, her feet sliding in her flip-flops across the tile flooring. She pulled back, and the force made her skid on an angle across the slippery surface as I dragged her. She continued to glare at me quizzically, leaning away from me.
“I don’t know what you are talking about?”
“Did you follow me, is that it? See me in the airport?”
“What?”
“Okay, I love you too, now you need to go. Okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am?”
“I don’t.”
I stopped, still holding firmly to her arm. Something in her voice sounded like she was being serious.
“I’m Tristan.”
She blinked, confusion clearly on her face. I was thoughtful for a moment. It was the innocence in her blue eyes, and the fact she looked like she might cry. Something wasn’t right with this scenario.
“Trist – an,” I said slowly, as if she had some type of hearing impairment.
“Who?”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Country,” she answered so quickly, she didn’t even blink an eye or stop for thought. On top of that, she said it in such a way that showed she was thoroughly confused, and almost disgusted with me, for even asking such a ridiculous question. She wrinkled her nose.
“Look, I know the owner, and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know the owner,” I repeated, “and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said, pulling at her own arm again and sticking out a hand to press against my chest as leverage. I had tugged my shirt off at some point while I was passed out, and her warm hand felt good on my air-conditioned cool skin. Her hand was tiny, I noticed. All of her was thin.
“I’m supposed to be here. Alone,” I emphasized again.
She didn’t respond, so I added, “I think I’ll just call the owner myself, to see where the mix up is.”
“No,” she blurted, stopping in her physical struggle against me. Her eyes opened even wider, if that was possible, and her face was suddenly full of something I couldn’t read. Her blue eyes brightened in a frightening sort of way. Was that fear? Good, she should be afraid.
“Please. I swear. I’m allowed to be here. You don’t need to call Isa.” 
She had me. I didn’t really know who Isa was, and the girl sounded confident enough that I let her call my bluff.
“If there is a mistake, and you were scheduled to stay as well, I won’t complain. As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in your way. You won’t even know I’m here. I plan to keep to myself.”  Her eyes were glassy, and again I worried she was about to cry.
I released her arm and she pulled it back quickly. She fisted the hand of that arm, holding it against her chest. She began rubbing her upper arm with the opposite hand. I noticed again that she was thin, as were her breasts. I didn’t care for small chested girls. I didn’t care for her.
“Well, I’m Tristan, whom you claim to not know, and you are?”
“I’m…Ireland.”
“Ireland what?”
“Just…Ireland.”
I shook my head.
“So this is how we’re going to play it? Fine, my Irish Isle. What are you doing in the Caymans?”
She looked at me for a moment, then leaned toward me and sniffed. She held the disgusted expression on her face and wrinkled her nose as she pulled back.
“Probably the same thing as you.”
“Drinking myself into oblivion?” I laughed, crossing my arms over my bare chest defensively.
“Hiding,” she replied.






Author Bio


L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?

As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.

I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.

So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.

I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.
 

L.B. Dunbar



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Series Sale Blitz & Giveaway for 'Beware of Bad Boy Series' by April Brookshire




SERIES SALE BLITZ 
Series: Beware of Bad Boy
Author: April Brookshire
Genre: Mature YA Contemporary Romance

Series Blurb

Caleb and Gianna aren’t supposed to fall in love. Getting along for their parents’ sakes is almost impossible already. Gianna can’t stand the bad boy image Caleb portrays and he thinks she’s a hollow beauty.

At first, denying their mutual attraction is easy enough. But as the stepbrother and stepsister get to know each other, friendship blossoms and feelings emerge they aren’t prepared for.

From enemies to friends to lovers sounds like a modern-day fairytale. Unfortunately, their love is forbidden and a wicked stepmother will do anything to keep them apart. Monsters and creatures in the forms of Gianna’s ex-boyfriend and Caleb’s past conquests attack from all sides.

The road to happily ever after isn’t paved in gold and there are many obstacles to overcome, but a bad boy becomes a Prince Charming and a Sleeping Beauty awakens.

 
WARNING: This YA Contemporary Romance series contains Mature themes and is not suitable for younger readers.




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Author Bio


April Brookshire is the author of the Beware of Bad Boy and Young Assassins series. She also co-authors the Dead Chaos series. She writes under the contemporary romance and apocalyptic fantasy genres and has a few projects in the works for 2015/2016.

Growing up with four brothers, she doesn’t like most chick flicks but devours romance books of all genres. A book addict, she’s read almost two thousand books to date.

April lives in a suburb of Denver, Colorado, where she raises her young son. When she isn’t writing, she’s usually reading, but also enjoys attending concerts and plays in the numerous venues of the city.



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New Release Blitz & Excerpt for 'Wanton With A Vampire' by Cassandra Lawson





WANTON WITH A VAMPIRE
Genre: Paranormal Romance

 ~ SYNOPSIS ~
For more than two-hundred years, Aleksandr Draksel has avoided commitment of any kind. His life of travel and meaningless affairs was all he needed. That is until he met Trish Williams, a woman he is inexplicably drawn to. She is also the one woman he cannot have. When Trish’s life takes a deadly turn, and she becomes the target of a killer, Alek finds himself in the strange position of protector. He is determined to do whatever it takes to keep her safe and resist the urge to seduce her.

From the moment she met Alek, Trish has been irritated, flustered, and aroused. Despite her attraction, a future with him was impossible because he could never have more than a short fling with a normal human. Unlike her friends, Trish has no psychic abilities- or so she thought. One broken shoe changes everything. Now, she is determined to live life to the fullest. She is also determined to seduce Aleksandr Draksel.

- PURCHASE - 

- TEASERS - 


- EXCERPT -
Trish looked up and touched the side of his cheek. “Will you sleep with me, Alek?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Alek was instantly hard. “That would be a really bad idea.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why?” he sputtered. “I don’t know where to begin with the reasons why this is a bad idea.”

“Listen, Alek, I haven’t had much experience,” Trish admitted. “That time with you was the only time I’ve ever climaxed with a partner.”

Alek opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strange gurgling sound.

The woman actually laughed at him. “You look ridiculous. Is this all it would have taken to get you to back off a month ago? Are you one of those guys who only want a woman who’s a challenge?”

“I prefer women who aren’t a challenge,” he admitted. “You’re an exception. That has nothing to do with the reason I think this is a bad idea. I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re recovering from a serious injury. You’ve had some terrible shocks in the last couple of days.”

“Believe it or not, I’m just asking you to sleep,” she said. “I’m freaked out and emotional. I watched my father die today, and I don’t want to be alone.”

Alek was more than a little embarrassed about his assumption. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking you’re an attractive man who has women throw themselves at him all the time. Bet not a lot of women invite you to their bed for reasons other than sex.”

“True, but I should have known you weren’t planning to seduce me.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “Seduction isn’t something I have a lot of experience with.”

“You were doing fine when you told me I’m the only man you’d ever climaxed with,” he confessed. “That got me thinking about all sorts of other ways I want to make you climax.”

The shy smile she gave him made him even harder, something she must have noticed while sitting on his lap. “Good, because I do plan to seduce you, just not tonight.”

- Psy-Vamp Series -
Book 1: VAMPIRES and VIXENS: http://amzn.to/1S4EU0Q
Book 2: SAFE HEX WITH A VAMPIRE: http://amzn.to/1CZLeQI
Book 3: VAMPIRES PREFER BLONDES: http://amzn.to/1SIWDWB
Book 4: THE VAMPIRE WILL SEE YOU NOW: http://amzn.to/1HSMMuG

- ABOUT THE AUTHOR -
Cassandra Lawson
Cassandra Lawson is an author and homeschooling mother of three from the San Francisco Bay area. She has always had a very active imagination and loves making up stories. When she is not writing, she enjoys baking, spending time with her family, listening to music, or curling up with a good book.




Cover Reveal & Excerpt for 'Cat Love' by Sunniva Dee

Cat love banner
 
Cat lov front
Title: Cat Love
Author: Sunniva Dee
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: October 5, 2015
Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

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Synopsis

A sexy thriller about the animal in all of us.  

Aidan uses his superpower to stabilize minds at the Hollyreed Specialist Hospital. Ulani uses hers to chase rats on rooftops. Until she’s caught and deposited in Aidan’s care. At the hospital, Aidan finds Ulani's room empty—save for a cat, whose fur retracts in favor of silky skin and a vamp-gorgeous femme fatale. Aidan’s obsession with Ulani grows— While patients at the hospital go missing.


 
Excerpt

At twenty-three, you think you’ve experienced a lot. Been there, done that for the most part. Older people might laugh at you for expressing such beliefs, but you still don’t expect to come across reality-altering experiences.

Here I am, with the morning energy of Seven setting in around me as I carry a small, lost cat from the locked unit back to my apartment… only the bundle of fur is changing.
There’s something wrong, I think, my thought natural and instinctive. But when her coat retracts against my hand, replaced by smooth, human skin, my intuition withdraws too and checks out.

I think I roar while she expands in my arms. I’m frozen in place, my vocal cords the only part of me responding. She grows heavier, longer, wider, until she plops from my hold and onto the floor. Vamp-red hair flames around her in bright waves, and is that a snarl lifting her lip?

For an instant, I swipe the hallway with my eyes, hoping someone sees what I see. No nurses, no doctors, only Mrs. Anderson’s ancient husband is there, fists clutching his walking chair while he takes in the apparition between us.
Not a thread covers stunning porcelain skin. She swings, bereaving me of my fleeting view of a small ruby-red triangle and kiss-shaped nipples, and leaps to the breakroom yards from where I stand.

Ulani’s gone. It takes me a moment to react. I meet old Robert Anderson’s incredulous gaze, and I shake my head at him, both denying what we’ve experienced and assuring him that we’re together in this.

As I turn to follow her, he mutters, “Holy God,” behind me, and my next session with a patient will have to be with Robert. He’s been free of Dr. Holstein’s treatments because of his quiet ways, but if he starts talking about this, he’ll quickly become another notch in the good doctor’s lab desk.
I just experienced something I never thought possible. A freaking cat morphed into a woman. Hell, this is what dreams and movies are made of. At the same time, I’m conditioned to react to the needs of my patients, which is why I chase after her now.

Besides Ulani, no one’s in the breakroom. She’s got part of the curtains draped around her, forming an orange toga, and bare toes with scarlet nail polish peek out. She’s stunning, but more than my physical attraction to her, her emotions fascinate me.

My years in this hospital are few, but the number of hours I’ve worked could double the years, and now it’s time to cloak myself in professionalism.

“Ulani,” I say. “Are you okay?” It’s a simple yet necessary question. Since I have no experience with cat women, I’m not privy to the sort of strain such a transformation can have on their bodies.

Her glare is not human, I realize. I was struck by the beauty of those irises the last time I saw her. Now, she narrows my view of saturated emeralds behind slitted eyes. She’s suspicious but not afraid—neither is she the slightest bit confused. This girl has issues, but they’re not on the mental level.

“Don’t. Say. Anything.” Ulani enunciates the words one by one, putting so much emphasis into her command that her intensity reverberates in my chest.

Efficient footsteps clack down the corridor outside. The slight shuffle of Dr. Holstein’s gait accompanies it. Laurie replies to his orders with “right, of course” and “certainly, Dr. Holstein,” but then they both come to a dead halt in the doorway.

“I found Ulani,” I say quietly.

“Remy, John!” Dr. Holstein barks down the hallway. “I need your assistance immediately.”

 



  
About The Author
 
Sunniva
I'm originally from Norway and moved to the United States in 2001. I have a Master's degree in languages and taught Spanish at college level before settling in as an adviser at an art college in the South. I write New Adult fiction with soul. Sometimes it's with a paranormal twist—like in “Shattering Halos,” published by The Wild Rose Press in February 24th 2014 and in “Stargazer,” released, November 21st 2014 by the same publisher. Since then, I've self published New Adult Contemporary novels “Pandora Wild Child,” and "Leon's Way," with "Adrenaline", and "Beneath the Cape", the superhero anthology benefiting The Wounded Warrior Project in its entirety. I write impulsive heroines, bad-boys, and good-boys running amok. Intense love, physical and emotional attraction —sensory overload for the reader as well as for the characters. My goal? Is to keep you on your toes until the end of each story.

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