Blog Tour for TOO CONSUMED (The Consumed Series #2) by Skyla Madi

Too Consumed

He wants to be with me forever… I love Seth and I can’t really picture my life without him, and he loves me too, God knows he says it enough, but I didn’t know he’s actually thinking about forever…is he even capable of forever? 


Cover- Too Consumed

                                            "Too Consumed" is book #2 of the Consumed Series.
                                                 "Consumed" is book #1 of the Consumed Series.


**Mature Content Warning** Recommended for ages 17+ due to language and sexual content.

Olivia did the impossible... She tamed the over-confident Casanova, Seth Marc, turning him into a one woman Romeo. With Seth's first professional fight coming up, she does her best to keep him focused and driven...even if that means withholding sex from him. As sexual tensions rise, so do past discrepancies the couple thought buried, putting extra stress on both their romantic and professional lives. Stuck in the center of the action, Olivia and Seth fight for air as they collide face first with the tough world of professional MMA.


Buy Now on Amazon

                                                             Also Available, Consumed (Book #1)
Consumed_cover
Coming Soon… Forever Consumed



Screen Shot 2014-01-28 at 1.18.58 PM
Skyla Madi



Facebook app iconGoodreads App IconTwitter App icon







                                                                          blog Tour organized by







 

Release Day Launch with Teaser and Giveaway for Night Games by Collette West




                                                                                  NIGHT GAMES
                                                                                 by Collette West
                                                             New Adult Contemporary Romance 

 
 Night Games Synopsis
 
The moment Grey Kelleher locks eyes with All-Star shortstop Chase Whitfield, she's a goner. For years, she's watched him play on TV, and now she's gazing at his hard, lean body across a bar in her hometown.

Grey's crush on Chase goes all the way back to his rookie season. So when she approaches him for an autograph, she's startled by what a jerk he can be.

Chase is no mood to humor his fans, even one as alluring as Grey. He's in the last year of his contract and stuck having to prove himself on a minor league team. He's only there to rehab an injury, nothing more.

But when Grey tells him off, Chase realizes her fiery spirit may be just the distraction he needs to take his mind off not being in the majors. His heart is safe. No one's going to break his streak as baseball's most eligible bachelor. Not even someone as irresistible as Grey.



https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19384278-night-games?from_search=true


                                                                             Buy links
http://www.amazon.com/Night-Games-Collette-West-ebook/dp/B00INKR8P4http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/night-games-collette-west/1118739841?ean=2940149477197https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/412904









Collette West Bio:
Collette West grew up as somewhat of a jock-nerd hybrid. Entering the world three weeks premature, her dad nearly missed her birth because he had seats behind the dugout for a sold-out, highly-anticipated match-up between two of baseball's biggest rivals. Not to be outdone, her book-loving mom taught her how to read by the time she was three. A love of the game coupled with an appreciation for the written word were instilled in Collette's impressionable brain from a young age. No wonder her characters believe in the philosophy: sports + romance = a little slice of heaven.
 Splitting her time between the Pocono Mountains and Manhattan, Collette indulges her inner fangirl by going to as many games as she can from hockey to baseball and downloading every sports romance novel in existence onto her iPad. When she's not clicking away on her laptop, she enjoys walking her dog in Central Park, satisfying her caffeine craving at the Starbucks on Broadway and keeping an eye out for Mr. Right. But above all, she loves dishing with her readers. Email her at collette_west@yahoo.com.
                 AUTHOR LINKS:  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Sign up form for email Newsletter 



                                                                                   ***GIVEAWAY***
a Rafflecopter giveaway













 

Release Launch with Excerpt & Giveaway for OUT of the ASHES by S.M. Lynn



 
 
  
SYNOPSIS

                                                                                   
Can love really conquer all?  Even when the secrets are so big, someone could die for keeping them, has died to keep them?
Celeste Brooks is haunted by a past she cannot escape.  Plagued by nightmares and fear that her secret will be discovered, she buries herself in her MBA and work, opening up to no one except her roommate, Gavin.  Until her path crosses with his.

Ian Jacobs made a vow when his heart was broken that he would never allow anyone that close again.   Being a sexy business mogul has its perks, and having many attractive women throw themselves at you is just one.  Until his path crosses with hers.
As soon as Ian finds Celeste has applied for a position with Jacobs Enterprises, he takes matters into his own hands, knowing that he must possess this woman at any cost.  Celeste finds herself under Ian’s spell and knows that she will do anything to be close to this man. Including revealing her secrets?  As their paths, past and present, collide, they must decide to risk it all or leave each other behind.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20638483-out-of-the-ashes?from_search=true
    
http://www.amazon.com/Out-Ashes-S-M-Lynn-ebook/dp/B00IMVESR0/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1393588012&sr=1-2&keywords=out+of+ashes




                                                                  ***EXCERPT ***


Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he wraps me in his arms and lifts me off the ground.  “I was beginning to worry that you were having second thoughts.”  He nibbles on my earlobe as he whispers in my ear. 

“Never” is my only reply as he opens the door and helps me into the car.  I give him the address and he relays it to the driver before closing the panel between the front seat and us.
“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”  He tips my chin up to look into my eyes. 

“No, I don’t think so.  But everything about you does seem familiar like déjà vu or something.”  I run my hands up his thigh to cup his growing erection. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he says leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, “when I see something I want, I tend to take it.”  His lips set fire to my skin.  “But perhaps introductions are in order before we arrive at your apartment?” 

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather just keep it anonymous.  I’ve been so wrapped up in life for the last few years that I need a night to let go.”  To forget, I think to myself.  “Please.  For tonight?”

“For tonight?  Sure, but I can pretty much guarantee I’m going to want to see you again so after tonight, we’ll have to talk.  There’s no way I’ll be able to get the taste of your sweet skin out of my head.”

As much as I wish that this could be more than one night, there’s no way it’ll be any more than this.  I would’ve thought it would make me feel cheap to give myself to a man I hardly knew because despite the past, I barely know him.  Being with him though, I’m overcome with a sense of peace.  A sense that, at least for tonight, I’ll be in arms that will protect me from all the evil, which constantly threatens to catch up with me.  As we near the building, I find myself longing for that protection and security more and more.

This is dangerous ground to tread on.  Bringing my past way too close to my present but I have to have him.  I just need to keep reminding my head and my heart that after tonight we’ll just be nameless strangers to one another.  And I have to be okay with that if I’m going to go through with this.  There’s no doubt in my mind that one night with him will break my heart but the memory of tonight will sustain me for a long time to come, probably the rest of my life.  So I settle into his lap to enjoy the rest of our brief ride to my apartment.

Entering the elevator, the sexual tension is thick between us.  He pulls me close as his hands find the pins holding my hair.  He releases them allowing my hair to flow over my shoulders and down my back.  His fingers run through the loose curls causing my scalp to tingle.  The tingle shoots all the way from my scalp down my body to settle between my legs, where it became a constant throb.

The ding of the elevator, signaling our arrival to our destination, is the only thing that keeps me from ripping his clothes off right then and there.  I can’t believe how brazen I am this evening.  This isn’t me at all but then again isn’t that why I came to New York in the first place?  To get as far away from the old me as possible?  I unlock the door and usher him through into the living room.  “Can I take your jacket?”  I ask as he drapes it over the back of the sofa. 

“Is this alright?”  He asks indicating his jacket.  I can only nod as the electricity builds between us. 

Wetting my lips again, I ask, “Would you like a drink?  I believe we have some cognac here.”  Letting him know that I noticed his drink of choice earlier.   “Or we have some champagne.”  His gaze drifts to the counter separating the living room from the kitchen and rests on the champagne in the ice bucket and two glasses.  “Oh sorry, my roommate and I had a couple glasses before we left for the club.  Tonight was sort of a celebration for me.”  I shrug as if to say it was no big deal.  “But there’s still plenty left and I have another bottle in the wine fridge if you’d like some.”

“Champagne would be wonderful.  So what were you celebrating?  I feel a little guilty pulling you away from your friends knowing that you were out celebrating.”  In a few long strides, he stands in front of me.  “But I won’t say I regret it.”  His lips once again find mine; the champagne and questions are all but forgotten.  My hands tangle in his hair and his grip on my waist tightens like it’s his only lifeline.  Not wanting to break our kiss, I gently guide us down the hallway to my bedroom.  He moves us through the door and in a swift move kicks the door shut with his foot.  Once the door closed the need engulfing, my body grows exponentially.  I reach for the buttons on his shirt wanting to remove all barriers between us.  My clumsiness and inexperience are definitely noticeable but he doesn’t say anything, just helps guide my fingers from one button to the next until the shirt lies in a pool at our feet.

I reach up the side of my dress and find the zip.  Pulling it down with the dress, it soon joins his shirt on the floor and I stand before him in a lacy bra, thong and my heels.  His breathe catches in his throat and I can tell he definitely enjoys the view.  “My god, you are so beautiful.”  He pulls me to him and takes my mouth once more then begins his exploration down my body.  Trailing kisses from my neck down to the tops of my breasts and then over my stomach until he is kneeling before me.  He looks up at me silently asking permission.  I fist my hands in his hair and throw my head back in answer.  If I thought his intention was just to remove the thong, I was very wrong.  With a slight tug, there’s a ripping sound as the small piece of fabric falls away from my body.  He holds it in his fist for a moment just staring at my naked pussy before he lowers his lip to my clit and sucks hard.  The sensation almost causes me to fall over.  Sensing my weak knees, he pushes me back against the bed until I’m sitting as he continues working me over with his tongue.  “Ah god, that feels incredible.”

“Angel, you taste incredible.  You are incredible.  I was right before when I said I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you in one night.”  His fingers slip between my folds and he presses one into me.  I gasp at the feeling.  “Shit!  You are so fucking tight.  This is heaven.”






                                                                             S.M. Lynn Author Bio

S.M. Lynn has a Bachelor's Degree in Secondary Education with an English specialization.  She resides in small town Nebraska with her husband and two children.  She writes contemporary romance leaning toward the erotic but enjoys mixing in elements of suspense.
When her family can pry her away from writing and reading, she works in her husband's financial services firm.  Between kids and work there is not much time left over but when she has some, she enjoys traveling, watching Vampire Diaries and scouring Facebook for book deals.

                                                        Email: smalousek@gmail.com

                                             Author links: Facebook Page | Goodreads




                                                                               ***GIVEAWAY***

a Rafflecopter giveaway




                                                         RELEASE LAUNCH HOSTED BY:








 

Excerpt Blast for ABOUT LAST NIGHT by Ruthie Knox



            We are pleased to be able to share an excerpt from Ruthie Knox's ABOUT LAST NIGHT!

                                                 ABOUT LAST NIGHT is a contemporary romance,
                                         published by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House.

           ABOUT LAST NIGHT is on sale for $.99 right now for a limited time only, so grab it now!


About Last Night
 
                                                                     ABOUT LAST NIGHT Synopsis
 
 Sure, opposites attract, but in this sexy, smart, eBook original romance from RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox, they positively combust! When a buttoned-up banker falls for a bad girl, "about last night" is just the beginning.

  CathTalarico knows a mistake when she makes it, and God knows she's made her share. So many, in fact, that this Chicago girl knows London is her last, best shot at starting over. But bad habits are hard to break, and soon Cath finds herself back where she has vowed never to go . . . in the bed of a man who is all kinds of wrong: too rich, too classy, too uptight for a free-spirited troublemaker like her.

 Nev Chamberlain feels trapped and miserable in his family's banking empire. But beneath his pinstripes is an artist and bohemian struggling to break free and lose control. Mary Catherine--even her name turns him on--with her tattoos, her secrets, and her gamine, sex-starved body, unleashes all kinds of fantasies.

 When blue blood mixes with bad blood, can a couple that is definitely wrong for each other ever be perfectly right? And with a little luck and a lot of love, can they make last night last a lifetime?

 Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: Because of You, Ride with Me, and Midnight Hour.
 
  • A 2013 finalist for the RITA award in contemporary single-title romance from Romance Writers of America
  • A 2012 Reviewers' Choice Best Book Award nominee in the "Contemporary Love and Laughter" category, Romantic Times magazine
  • A Library Journal Best Ebook Romance of 2012
  • A Reviewers Choice Award 2012 Pick, All About Romance
  • A Best Contemporary Romance 2012 nominee at The Romance Reviews
  • A 2013 DABWAHA nominee
 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13414764-about-last-night?bf=500&from_search=true


 
                                                                                           Buy links
http://www.amazon.com/About-Last-Night-Loveswept-Contemporary-ebook/dp/B006XWY424/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1393359059&sr=8-1&keywords=About+Last+Night+ruthie+knoxhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/about-last-night-ruthie-knox/1108296251?ean=9780345535160&itm=1&usri=about+last+night+ruthie+knox


                                                                                     ***EXCERPT***

  Cath leaned against a table strewn with crumpled tubes of paint and jars full of brushes, pressing her damp palms against the surface and willing her heart to stop pounding. You’re not really attracted to City. You’re just looking for your clothes, and then you’re going home. A blip, remember? This is a blip.

 Dimly, she realized he’d spoken. “Sorry, what?”

 His lips twitched, and the dimple made another appearance. “I only said ‘Good morning.’ Are you all right?”

 She’d been on the money predicting he’d have a posh accent, anyway. Maybe she could blame the hangover for her reaction to the smile. She needed to eat something. Or get laid. It had been a while. Could you still say that when it had been two years?

 It had been a while.

 “That depends,” she said.

 “On?”

 “On what I did last night.”

 He pursed his perfect lips, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “You don’t remember?”

 “Not much.” She drew her index finger along the surface of his worktable, as if checking for dust.

 “Do you remember refusing to tell me your name or where you live?”

 “We talked?” Funny, she couldn’t resurrect any memories of speaking to him. Only his hand, warm and solid, guiding her. Only the way he’d made her feel.

 The way he was still making her feel, come to think of it. She was bare-legged in this strange man’s apartment, asking him to reveal the details of what she’d done while drunk last night. The situation ought to have been intimidating. She ought to have been queasy with remorse.

 She wasn’t, and she could only conclude the reason was City. He projected calm.

 “You kept calling me ‘City,’” he said.

 Cath nodded. “Yep. That’s what I call you.”

 He gave her a wry smile, and she held on tight to the edge of the table. Maybe calm didn’t quite cover it. Not when he smiled, anyway.

 “That’s precisely what you said last night.”

 His voice wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It was low and warm and soothing, and it took the edge right off his fancy accent.

 “Did I say why I wouldn’t tell you my name?”

 The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate.

 “You told me you were sad and quite tired, but you didn’t require my help, and all you needed to set yourself to rights was a cup of coffee and something to eat.”

 “So how did I—”

 He raised one finger to prevent her interruption, his eyes twinkling with amusement. She’d never noticed how unusual his eyes were before. They were green over brown, both exotic and warm.

 “Then,” he continued, “when I tried to introduce myself properly, you covered my mouth with your hand and insisted we remain strangers, because you could tell I was a very nice man”—he pronounced the word nice as if it were a razor blade he was carefully spitting out—“and I’d be far better off not knowing you.”

 Cath was impressed. Her drunk self had more sense than she’d given her credit for.

 “That’s true,” she offered. “I’m not really your type.”

 He cocked an eyebrow but let the comment slide.

 “Since I’m here, I guess that means you took a pass on the opportunity to hop the next train and leave me to my own devices?”

 “It was nearly midnight,” he said, defensive. “All the shops were closed, there were no cabs to be found, you wouldn’t tell me where you lived or let me see you home, and you could barely stand up. So yes, bringing you here seemed like the right thing to do.”

 A thought distracted her from the question she’d been forming. “What were you doing at Canary Wharf at midnight on a Friday?”

 “Trolling for prostitutes.”

 He delivered the line in such a dry, remote tone, it took her a second to get that he was joking, but when she did, she couldn’t prevent herself from teasing, “You must have been so disappointed with the selection.” She glanced down at her small, decidedly unvoluptuous body in the oversized shirt.

 “I wouldn’t say that, love.”

 The dimple appeared again. She lost a few seconds gazing at his mouth, and then she came to and let her eyes slide down his torso to alight on his hand, which still held a paintbrush.

 She hadn’t expected the smile. Or the paintbrush.

 She definitely hadn’t expected him to flirt with her.

 “I’d been to see a film,” he explained.

 “I passed out,” she replied, attempting to steer the conversation back toward the safer ground of her humiliation so that she could get the details she needed and scurry home.

 “I suppose you did. You were terribly tired. I made a pot of tea, and by the time I’d finished you were asleep at my kitchen table. I tried to rouse you, but you said, ‘Leave me alone,’ and then something that sounded very much like, ‘Don’t murder me.’” He reported all this matter-of-factly, as if drunk women passed out on his kitchen table every Friday night.

 Which, for all you know, they do.

 “Nice of you not to.” “I seem to have convinced you I’m a nice man.”

 Cath nodded her agreement, though he didn’t look all that nice at the moment. The gleam in those green-brown eyes was positively rakish. She hadn’t thought City had a speck of rakishness in him.

 “Sorry about the stripping part,” she mumbled, partly because she was sorry but mostly because she wondered what he’d say.

 The smile he gave her made her toes curl, it was so wicked. “You do remember,” he said in that low rumble.

 “You were very, uh, gentlemanly about that.”

 “You were very intoxicated.” He turned away to set the paintbrush down on the tray at the base of his easel.

 “Yeah.”

 She stared at her toes until they uncurled. This was her cue to ask what he’d done with her clothes. She would have, only City asked, “How are you feeling?” and so she had to keep talking to him. She tried to mind it but failed. The man was proving to be an enjoyable conversationalist, and he was remarkably easy on the eyes.

 “I’m fine, thanks. I have a little headache, but the shower helped. And the toothbrush.”

 “Glad to hear it. Would you like breakfast? I fried up some bacon.”

 The mention of bacon made her stomach rumble.

 “That sounds like a yes.”

 “I do have a weakness for the bacon-sandwich hangover cure,” she admitted. “But it seems a little lowbrow for you, City. I can’t imagine you drunk, much less hungover.”

 He took a few steps closer and studied her, an unabashed appraisal that should have been rude or even scary but instead sent syrupy heat creeping through her abdomen. “Considering you don’t know my name, you seem to have a lot of ideas about me.”

 Oh, she had ideas. She had a whole slew of new ideas about him, and she needed to find an exit strategy quick, because none of them was on the list of things she was supposed to be thinking about. Banker, she reminded herself. He’s a banker, a very boring banker. Enough already. Just, whatever you do, don’t flirt with him.

  “I don’t need to know your name. I’ve seen you around, and I know your type.”

 And she was flirting with him.

 It won her a smirk. “What’s my type, then?”

 “For starters, you come from money. You went to expensive boarding schools, graduated from either Oxford or Cambridge, and now you work at a bank in the City—thus the name.”

 He frowned and wiped his hand over his mouth. What a mouth.

 “Just let me know when I get something wrong,” she offered.

 “By all means, carry on. You’re doing a brilliant job so far.”

 “Which was it, Oxford or Cambridge?” “Cambridge. Trinity College.”

 She resisted the urge to gloat. Gloating was well outside the range of acceptable responses to City on this particular morning.

 So is flirting with him.

 Right. But it was so much fun. She hadn’t flirted in ages.

 “Let’s see,” she said. “I know you like to jog. Judging by those shoulders and arms, I’d say you also row, yeah?”

 “Some. I play rugby, too.” He gave her half a smile, and she made an effort to suppress the image of City in a rugby jersey with pink cheeks and dirty knees, tussling over a ball. A human orgasm.

 Her good sense was now officially yelling Mayday!

 She was now officially ignoring it.

 “What do I do for fun, then?” He stepped even closer. This flirtation had turned into a two-way party. She needed to find a method of steering the conversation back toward bacon sandwiches and, say, the location of her skirt, because it probably wasn’t good that she could smell him now, and on this man linseed oil was an aphrodisiac.

 “Well, you go to the symphony, spend weekends in the countryside, and date women who wear twinsets and have names like—”

 Without the least bit of warning, he kissed her. Not a preamble sort of kiss, either. No, he really kissed her, one huge hand cupping the back of her neck, and his warm, firm lips knew exactly what they were doing, which was driving every single thought from her head. Only the man remained, the mouth, the sensations coursing through her, heating her up from the inside. Heating her up fast. Could all bankers kiss like this?

 Cath rose on her toes, angling her mouth and pressing closer, but he pulled back a few inches. Then a few feet.

 She wanted to say something. The only word that came out of her mouth was a shaky “Whoa.”

 She tried again. “What was that, City?”

 “You tell me, Yank.” His lips curved into that sexy smirk again.

 “I’m pretty sure you just kissed me.”

 “Yes, I did. Shall I apologize?”

 “What for?”

 “It was terribly impolite. I didn’t ask your permission.”

 Cath leaned back against the table, crossed her arms over the tight peaks of her nipples, and tried not to smile like a girl who’d just been kissed silly. She failed. She was failing a lot around this guy. It ought to have been worrisome, or at least embarrassing, but his lips had liquefied her brain.

 First kiss in two years would do that, she supposed.

 “I was much more impolite than you. What with the passing out and all. You’re being very nice about it.”

 City scrubbed his hand over his jawline, pensive now. “I would appreciate it,” he said after a moment, “if you would stop calling me ‘nice.’”

 He took a step closer, and her heart rate spiked.

 “You are nice.” Her voice came out all weak and wavery. This was how Little Red Riding Hood had felt when she’d discovered the Big Bad Wolf wearing Grandma’s bonnet.

 “No,” he replied. “I’m not.”

 Another step, and his eyes traced a path over her arms, down her stomach to her hips. The brightly lit art studio made her purple underwear visible through the white T-shirt. She could tell that City noticed, and that he was enjoying the view.

 She sat down on the edge of the table. “You brought me here with impure motives?” The idea gave her a stupid thrill.

 He shook his head. “No. I developed them after you arrived.”

 Cath fingered the hem of the shirt where it hit her mid-thigh. “You shouldn’t admit to that sort of thing. It’s perverted to lust after half-naked drunk girls.”

 “Not perverted.” He stepped closer until his thighs brushed her knees. “Only male. And at any rate, you didn’t get me lusting with the strip show. Though it was . . . fetching.”

 “No?” It was a wonder she could speak at all, considering there was a tall, hard, hot man crowding her and using up all the oxygen. “What irresistibly attractive thing did I do, then?”

 One more step, and he was between her legs. “You talked. Rather a lot.”

 “About what?”

 “All sorts of nonsense. You’re not very fond of my country, I gather.”

 Cath shrugged, sheepish. “Sometimes I miss Chicago.”

 “I’d never heard you talk before. You ought to do it more. It’s charming.”

 “People who talk to themselves at the train station are generally understood to be crazy. Especially in your country.”

 “You could talk to me.”

 “I hardly know you.”

 “I’m superb,” he said. “You’re going to like me.” Big, warm hands covered her bare thighs, and she shivered. “Though I should probably reiterate, I’m not at all nice.”

 “I am,” she whispered. “I’m a very good person. Not the kind of girl who gets drunk and has to be rescued from train stations.”

 “I know.” He moved his hands up a few inches to the crease where her thighs met her hips.

 “Or who makes out with strange men on tables. I’m a thoroughly respectable woman.”

 “You don’t kiss like one.” He smiled that shark smile again.

 New Cath had a death grip on the tattered vestiges of her willpower, but she’d lost control over her body. Her palms smoothed over the muscles of his forearms, and her butt scooted her closer to the edge of the table by an inch or two. Or four.

 At least her mouth still worked. “I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.”

 “Don’t reform. I like you bad.”

 “I don’t want to be bad.” But her arms had reached up and twined around his neck, and she had to murmur the last part against his lips.

 “I do,” he said, and took over.

Available for purchase at these and other retailers: Amazon Barnes and Noble



    ABOUT RUTHIE KNOX:

  USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox writes contemporary romance that’s sexy, witty, and angsty—sometimes all three at once. After training to be a British historian, she became an academic editor instead. Then she got really deeply into knitting, as one does, followed by motherhood and romance novel writing. Her debut novel, Ride with Me, is probably the only existing cross-country bicycling love story. She followed it up with About Last Night, a London-set romance whose hero has the unlikely name of Neville, and then Room at the Inn, a Christmas novella—both of which were finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award. Her four-book series about the Clark family of Camelot, Ohio, has won accolades for its fresh, funny portrayal of small-town Midwestern life. Ruthie moonlights as a mother, Tweets incessantly, and bakes a mean focaccia. She’d love to hear from you, so visit her website at www.ruthieknox.com and drop her a line.

                                           LINKS: Website | Facebook | TwitterRuthie KnoxGoodreads
















  

Double Cover Reveal for How To Seduce a Band Greek (How To #2) & How To Hook A Bookworm (How To #3) by Cassie Mae

How to Seduce a Band Geek (How To #2)
Release Date: 05/06/14
Swoon Romance


Summary from Goodreads:

Sierra Livingston’s got it bad for her sister’s best friend, Levi Mason—the boy who carries his drumsticks in his pocket, marches with the school’s band, and taps his feet to whatever beat runs through his head. Sierra racks her brain for ways to impress the sexy drummer, but the short skirts and bursting cleavage don’t seem to cut it.

When Sierra gets paired with Levi’s sister, Brea, for a mentorship program, they strike a deal. In exchange for Sierra keeping her mouth shut about Brea ditching the program, Brea lets Sierra dig for more info on Levi to help get the guy of her dreams.

But when Sierra discovers Levi no longer plays the drums, his family has moved into a trailer, and he’s traded in his Range Rover for a baby blue moped, Sierra’s not sure if she can go through with violating his privacy. She’ll have to find the courage to ask him straight out—if he’s willing to let her in—and explore other ways to seduce the school’s band geek.






How to Hook a Bookworm (How To #3)
Release Date: TBD
Swoon Romance


Summary from Goodreads:

It’s Brea Mason’s sixteenth birthday, and she has three wishes. 1. Be magically eighteen like the rest of her friends. 2. Grow a money tree for her family whose financial problems are well known about town.  3. Overcome her test anxiety before she flunks out of every class.

But one day later, she's still sixteen, her family's money worries abound, and she's no closer to passing than she was the day before!

Then a very sexy transfer student—with gobs of cash—shows up. Brea figures she has a better chance of burping up glitter than attracting the new guy, but he seems extremely interested in her.

Just when Brea thinks things are looking up, her report card arrives marked with four giant F’s. Enter resident bookworm and Brea's loyal friend, Adam Silver. If he can't help Brea pass, no one can.

Even with Adam's help, Brea can't handle the mounting pressure, and finds an escape with the new student who knows little about her problems. 

But spending oodles of time with her boyfriend strains the friendship with Adam she relies so heavily on. Faced with losing the only real comfort and support she has ever had, Brea starts to wonder if she can hook a bookworm before it's too late. 





Link to book one:
(cover linked to Goodreads)




About the Author

Amazon multi-category and international bestselling author of HOW TO DATE A NERD, HOW TO SEDUCE A BAND GEEK and HOW TO HOOK A BOOKWORM

Cassie Mae is a nerd to the core from Utah, who likes to write about other nerds who find love. Her angel children and perfect husband fan her and feed her grapes while she clacks away on the keyboard. Then she wakes up from that dream world and manages to get a few words on the computer while the house explodes around her. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with the youth in her community as a volleyball and basketball coach, or searching the house desperately for chocolate.

Cassie Mae is an Amazon.com bestselling author of the teen contemporary romance novel REASONS I FELL FOR THE FUNNY FAT FRIEND, which she self-published. In addition to publishing with Swoon Romance, she is published by Random House Flirt.

Author Links:
 photo iconwebsite-32x32_zps1f477f69.png  photo icongoodreads32_zps60f83491.png  photo icontwitter-32x32_zpsae13e2b2.png  photo iconfacebook-32x32_zps64a79d4a.png  photo iconpinterest_zps6fcf02a7.png



Cover Reveal Organized by:

Blog Tour with Excerpt & Giveaway for DEUCE (Vortex #3) by Janine Caldwell

                                   
                                                      Welcome to my stop on the DEUCE Blog tour!
                                                    Check out rest of the Blog Tour schedule HERE!




                                                                    Deuce (Vortex #3)
                                                                   by Janine Caldwell
                                                                   Release Date: 2014


Summary from Goodreads: 
In an instant everything changes for seventeen-year-old Cassie Moore. Together she and her time-traveling boyfriend, Trent Astor, battle to survive their next impossible challenge. As they navigate through a third parallel world in which Cassie begged Trent to create for her, the two soon discover that no world can be made perfect.

And while they fight through their new circumstances, the universe may just have its own agenda for them both.

Meanwhile, it seems Trent and his sister, Lorelai, will never be safe from the greedy world and its hunger for Trent's power. A new force threatens to destroy the anonymity Trent has fought for his entire life unless he can stop this new opposition first. But every choice has a consequence, and Trent is faced with the most difficult choice of his life.

Set in contemporary Northern California, The Vortex Series is a teen romance for those who also enjoy a bit of science fiction and fantasy. Told in two perspectives, we get an intimate view of both Cassie and Trent’s worlds. Family relationships, how they interconnect and drive our personalities, is the heart and soul of this YA time traveling novel.


https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17902376-deuce?from_search=true

                                                                               Buy links
http://www.amazon.com/Deuce-Vortex-Series-Janine-Caldwell-ebook/dp/B00I44WXH2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1393099713&sr=8-2&keywords=janine+caldwellhttp://www.smashwords.com/books/view/402887


                                                         (Books are linked to Goodreads)
                                             Book #1                                                  Book#2
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17668732-rematchhttps://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17668742-double-fault
  



                                                                                EXCERPT OF DEUCE
                                                                  BOOK 3 OF THE VORTEX SERIES


                                                        READY OR NOT
                                                                                     CASSIE

A cyclone, a black hole, and an earthquake of epic proportion. Add to that my shock, and, well, I’ve pretty much summed up the hell I unwillingly experienced. There I am one moment, ecstatically kissing my boyfriend, imagining all is right again in my world, and the next I’m whirling in the dark, gasping for air, while an invisible giant hand squeezes the bejeezus out of me.
“They’re not daydreams, they’re flashes!” Those were the last chilling words Trent screamed at me and . . . Poof! Gone in a blink is the boy I love. Ripped from my hands before I could ask him why his eyes were flashing with terror in the middle of our sweet reunion. My body, previously rooted outside my tennis club’s locker room, was hijacked and thrown into a horrific virtual roller coaster. Death, I thought surely, was the only possible outcome.
Is that torture a sampling of traveling through time? Because, as insane as the idea is, I think that’s precisely what happened. I jumped time.
But how could that be? I’m not a time traveler. That burden falls on Trent. Has his supernatural power suddenly become contagious, like mono? That would be just my luck. Or maybe he somehow accidentally transported me along with him. It’s never been done before, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Although it does defy everything we know about his powers.
Afraid to open my eyes, I grope around me, hopeful that Trent’s body is near and waiting to be discovered. Unfortunately, I only come up with handful of dirt, fingering objects that resemble sharp, dry needles.
“Trent?” I croak. “Are you here?”
Silence.
I swallow a bitter taste in my mouth—a cocktail of fear mixed with panic. My mind races through questions as fast as my heartbeat. Where am I? Am I alone? What exactly has happened to me?
Ready to at least face wherever it is I am, I attempt to crack open my eyes. They begin to water immediately, blurring from dizziness. The world rocks around me. Moaning, I reach for my head and tuck into a ball, willing the spinning to stop. I can’t think. All I can do is breathe. The deeper I fill my lungs, I learn, the better the recovery. The cool, heavy air smells like pine and damp woods, which is both soothing and terrifying.
Slowly, with careful movements, I manage to shift around onto my hands and knees. I think it’s progress, but before I can choke it back, I vomit. When that wave of nausea ends, another comes charging through me. I vomit again and again, ejecting my insides like someone being exorcised. My muscles from feet to neck are clenched tight, aching with the slightest movement.
After one last exhausting cough, my stomach calms down. The dizziness ends as well. I chance opening my eyes, and this time I’m able to keep them open, a sense of being more steady and grounded to the earth resonating through me. Sinking back onto my heels, I take in the scenery. I’m awestruck by the view of a grand forest. It’s very green and heavily wooded. Diagonal beams of light filter through an array of giant spruce, redwood, and pine trees, warming my face and highlighting the layer of mulch I polluted with my filth.
I’m stunned, petrified that I really did travel to some other place. My gaze roams around me, still clinging to the hope of finding Trent, but as far as I can tell, I’m all alone. My throat tightens at the thought—alone in a mature, wild forest. God only knows what year it is or for what purpose I’ve been sent here.
I hang my head in my hands. Wow, am I sincerely debating what year it is? I have so lost it. Never in my wildest imagination could I foresee something this insane happening to me. But as I take another gander at my current setting, I can’t deny I’m no longer home in Pleasanton, California.
Although there’s nothing left in my stomach, it doesn’t stop me from a surge of nausea at the harsh reality of my situation. All I want to do is huddle back into a ball until I can wake up from this nightmare. A sob escapes my mouth, echoing into the vast forest before it’s swallowed up by thick layers of bark. Tears threaten to fall until I sniff and force them to retreat.
No! This blubbering has to stop. There’s no point in feeling sorry for myself. Wallowing in self-pity will not get me home any faster. That’s right. Get up and do something, Cassie. Don’t wait for someone else to rescue you, because this time it looks like you’re on your own.
I take a moment to regroup, coaxing strength to arise in me. I consider everything I’ve learned about time traveling. If my instincts are correct and I can make sense of all this, I have to start accepting the facts. Somehow I’ve miraculously become a time traveler like Trent. A flyer through time. How this happened is a question to debate later. But understanding this much means I’m probably the only one who can get myself home. Me. To play this game and win, a mission has to be met before I’ll be given a ticket back to the present. It’s the only way.
Freshly determined, I straighten my spine, eager to figure out this puzzle. In the next moment, an arctic breeze cuts through my skin, and I’m promptly reminded of what I’m wearing, or not wearing, as the case may be, for an adventure gallivanting through Sherwood Forest. My yellow tennis dress looks practically neon compared to the surrounding russet and emerald hues. It’s of little warmth and even less protection from lethal branches. By the angle of the sun and the increasing shadows, I can tell it’ll be dark soon, too. The notion causes me to involuntarily shudder.
Using the aid of a nearby boulder, I claw my way to my feet. It’s an improvement from crawling on all fours, but I have Bambi legs, wobbly and feeble. With stiff fingers, I rub my bare arms and bump into Trent’s leather cuff, too big for my wrist. I forgot I had slid it on at the tennis match to show Trent that I remembered him. It seems suiting I would have it in my possession at the moment and certainly comforting to have a piece of him with me. The necklace he bought me for Christmas, regretfully, is tucked safely away in my locker back at the club.
A tad more inspired by the bracelet, I trek through the forest at a pace my Grandma Bertie in her last days could’ve kept up with. Of course, I have no idea where I’m going. It’s trunks, leafy bushes, and speckled boulders as far as the eye can see. I’ve yet to find any sign of other people, which makes trying to save someone a real conundrum. And besides the occasional squawk followed by a fluttering of wings high up in the trees, there’s no sign of animals, either. I should probably be grateful for that, but the eerie silence is creeping me out. The isolation pricks at my nerves. I have zero supplies unless you count the extra hairband I have in my pocket, which I don’t. No food or water, no shelter. I can’t think about what I’ll do if I have to stay the night out here.
As I roam, teeth chattering at the dropping temperature, I contemplate what Trent would do on one of his missions. Probably not wig out like me. I’m sure he’s above that by now, having years of completed missions under his belt, but, hey, this is my virgin jump, so I think I’ll give myself a break.
Hmm . . . let me see. I suppose Trent would think back to his flashes. Yes, that’s it! He explained once these spontaneous, uncontrollable flashes are visions conjured from . . . well, I don’t know where they come from. From a supernatural force he can’t fully explain. A spiritual dimension of guides championing his missions, perhaps. These images play through his mind to give him clues of the victims he’s been summoned to save. As I told Trent, I thought I was only vividly daydreaming these last few weeks. Apparently not.
Before I begin to pick through my brain for images that might help me figure out what I’m doing here, a lone wolf howls a hundred or so yards away. A second wolf howls until a chorus of haunting wails sends an icy chill through my bones.
Come on! Seriously? Did it have to be wolves? It couldn’t have been a horde of gentle bunnies or a herd of harmless, grass-eating deer?
I’m about to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction of the howling when a human scream pierces through the forest. With that scream reverberating through my mind, time stands still. Suddenly, I become hyperaware of my surroundings, as if I can hear the blood surging through my veins, sense the microscopic particles floating on my fingers, see the forest breathing in and out. Soon a flash of a panicked child in harm’s way burns through my brain, clear as water and impossible to forget.
Got it. It’s no longer a question. As warm adrenaline courses through my veins, I’m reminded I’ve seen this kid before in what I thought were meaningless daydreams. An instinct planted somewhere deep in my core assures me I’ve been sent here for him.
With no more time to ponder, I gallop, weaving through the thick brush. I am strength. I am power. Leaping over boulders, I swipe at any branch blocking my path as if I’ve been raised in the forest and know how to command my way through it. It’s easy to ignore the thrashing on my naked skin, distracted by the thousands of sharp tingles invading my nerve endings. It’s an odd sensation—like I have a fever, though moments ago I was shivering from the cold.
When I reach a small clearing, I find a young boy, a raccoon hat on top of his head. My heart stops. He’s sitting on the ground with at least five sandy gray wolves snapping and circling him. He not only appears to be in horrible pain, but beyond terrified by these beasts inching closer. I can understand why. These wolves are not your fluffy Hollywood specimens, but real savages—scrappy, ravenous-looking. Backed up against a tree, the boy continues to pull at his bloody leg with desperation, but he can’t seem to free himself. It’s caught in something. A metal animal trap of some sort. In the meantime, his only weapon is a long branch he periodically strikes in the air, but it has little effect of scaring the wolves away.
As I hunch down behind a patch of shrubbery, my heart caught in my throat, I rack my brain for what I’m supposed to do next. This is so beyond my expertise. I’m a high school tennis player, for Pete’s sake, not Davy Crockett. Think, Cassie! What would Trent do?
I scan my surroundings, searching for anything that might help distract the wolves from wanting to gobble up this poor kid, but there’s nothing! Only rocks, spiky foliage, and a few dead, sap-spattered pinecones. I’m debating whether I should take off my tennis shoes to chuck at the beasts when I hear the boy scream in a way that makes my stomach lurch. It sounds like a wolf has moved in near enough to nip at him. If I don’t hurry up and do something, they may all attack him at once. There’ll be nothing to stop their eating frenzy at that point.
Wait a minute. Rocks!
Without hesitation, I seize a few jagged rocks the size of my palm that my eyes previously swept past. I spring out from behind the shrubbery with my ammo, ready for battle. A primitive roar spews from a deep-rooted part of my spirit, drawing a couple wolves away from the boy. With superhuman strength, I launch the handful of rocks at them until I nail one between the eyes. It yelps and stumbles before shaking its head in a daze. This gets the rest of the pack’s attention. They reassemble, growling as they tentatively move away from the boy and face my direction.
Oh, crap. This can’t be good.
The wolves advance as one unit, creeping toward me, stalking me with their raised tails and hackles. Their orange irises are fixed directly on mine, appearing as feral as their unruly coats. Their razor-edged teeth are bared, columns of foamy drool spilling out of the corners of their black gums.
A fit of trembling wreaks my body, my mouth as dry as the dusty forest floor. Way to go, genius. What’s your next brilliant step? Sure, you prevented the boy from being attacked, but by way of offering your own flesh for them to feed on. Nice. Some time traveler you are. One mission and you’re already finished!
I’ve lived through a few nail biters—being held at gunpoint by a lunatic scientist and plummeting to my most certain death in a hot-air balloon mishap, for example—but at the moment, feasted on by wolves is ranking up there as the most horrifying. The pack has moved in dangerously close, growling at me from deep within their chests. They’re pushing me back out of the clearing, cornering me against the same dense patch of shrubbery I was hiding behind. In another second, my plan is to turn around and sprint like an Olympian track star, but I’m already doubtful I can outrun them. They’ve got to be familiar with every nook and hollow in this blasted forest. There’s nowhere I can hide they won’t track my human scent.
As I continue to cautiously step backward, one eye steady on the wolves, my foot catches on a root. I trip and land on my backside with a painful thud. So much for running. My vulnerable position excites the wolves. They look moments from pouncing, leaning back in their haunches, licking their chops at their easy prey. A scream escapes from my lungs.
I’m sorry, Trent. I really did try. I love you.





About the Author
Janine Caldwell was born in Concord, CA and raised in the small San Francisco Bay Area town of Clayton. Four days after high school graduation, Janine attended California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo and graduated with a degree in English.
Janine now lives in Anthem, AZ with her husband and two sons. As a lifelong literature fanatic, she knew it was only a matter of time before she would become obsessed with writing her own work. With relatives like the Brothers Grimm and Anita Loos (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes), she figured fantasy writing had to be in her DNA.

Books published by Janine include Visited, a YA coming-of-age fantasy, Rematch and Double Fault–the first two books of The Vortex Series. The final book in this YA fantasy romance, Deuce, will be released soon.
 
                                        Author Links: Website | Goodreads | Twitter | Facebook






                                                                     ***GIVEAWAY***
                                            10 ebooks of Deuce (via smashwords coupon) (INT)

                                                           RULES AND RESTRICTIONS: 
Contest is void where prohibited. Entrants must be 13 or else have parent or guardian’s permission to enter. Winners will be notified via email and will have 48 hours to respond  or another winner’s name will be selected. Winning entries will be verified for authenticity.
 
a Rafflecopter giveaway






                                                                   Blog Tour Hosted by:
YA Bound Book Tours