Saturday, November 14, 2015

Like Arrows by Freya Barker COVER REVEAL!

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Book: Like Arrows
Series: Cedar Tree #6
Author: Freya Barker
Release Date: Mid/Late December
Cover Designer: Margreet Assleberg
Hosted By: Francessca’s Romance Reviews

Synopsis

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An assignment has just turned interesting for GFI investigator Malachi Whitetail. When a shy, mousy woman walks into his local diner, it takes him a minute to recognize her as an employee of the real estate office he’s been monitoring. Not a believer in coincidence, Mal decides a closer look at the short brunette might be warranted. It will be the first, but certainly not the last time, he finds himself coming to her rescue.

Kimeo Lowe leads a pretty quiet existence, which is why, when she ends up a witness to a crime, her curiosity into her boss’s suspected shady dealings gets kicked into high gear. She may not be the most sociable of people, but she’s always been independent and industrious, so when an opportunity to dig a little deeper arises, she doesn’t think twice. It would seem that this time she’s bitten off a bit more than she can chew, and when a freakishly tall Native American Adonis intervenes not just once, she decides sleuthing may be best left to professionals. But it’s a bit too late.

Just when life has settled into a comfortable routine, Kim finds herself dealing with not just one, but two threats on her life. With every turn there are new challenges to face, and Mal is not about to let her face them alone. Not even when he turns out to be no match for her most dangerous enemy.

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About The Author

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Freya Barker craved reading about 'real' people, those who are perhaps less than perfect, but just as deserving of romance, hot monkey sex and some thrills and chills in their lives – So she decided to write about them.

Always creative, from an early age on she danced and sang, doodled, created, cooked, baked, quilted and crafted. Her latest creative outlets were influenced by an ever-present love for reading. First through blogging, then cover art and design, and finally writing.

Born and raised in the Netherlands, she packed her two toddlers, and eight suitcases filled with toys to move to Canada. No stranger to new beginnings, she thrives on them.

With the kids grown and out in the world, Freya is at the ‘prime’ of her life. The body might be a bit ramshackle, but the spirit is high and as adventurous as ever. Something you may see reflected here and there in some of her heroines.... none of who will likely be wilting flowers.

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Other Books By Freya

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Slim To None


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Hundred To One

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Against Me

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Clean Lines

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Upper Hand

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From Dust

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Paperback

Friday, November 13, 2015

Reapers Fall by Joanna Wylde Book Tour





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Reaper’s Fall is the newest standalone in the Reaper's MC Series.  Painter & Melanie's story is FINALLY here!

Available at the following retailers:


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Blurb
The New York Times bestselling author of Reaper’s Stand is back in her “uber-alpha rough world of MCs”* as one woman’s future is rocked by the man whose hardcore past could destroy her…

He never meant to hurt her.

Levi “Painter” Brooks was nothing before he joined the Reapers motorcycle club. The day he patched in, they became his brothers and his life. All they asked in return was a strong arm and unconditional loyalty—a loyalty that’s tested when he’s caught and sentenced to prison for a crime committed on their behalf.

Melanie Tucker may have had a rough start, but along the way she’s learned to fight for her future. She’s escaped from hell and started a new life, yet every night she dreams of a biker whose touch she can’t forget. It all started out so innocently—just a series of letters to a lonely man in prison. Friendly. Harmless. Safe.

Now Painter Brooks is coming home… and Melanie’s about to learn that there’s no room for innocence in the Reapers MC.

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Excerpt #1 (New to tour)
“You want to watch a movie or something?” she asked, nodding toward the TV. I had a decent one, too. Giant-ass flat-screen—homecoming present from the club.
“Sure,” I said, reaching for the remote. I didn’t have cable, but Ruger had set up some kind of box thingie for me so I could stream shit. “Whatcha in the mood for?”
“Not horror,” she said quickly, and I laughed again, remembering that first evening I’d spent with her at Pic’s house. She’d been so young and scared and vulnerable . . . I’d wanted to eat her up.
I still wanted to eat her.
“I can’t believe that you and Puck were supposed to be watching over me, and then you put in a slasher movie. That’s not how you make a girl feel safe.”
“No horror,” I agreed, although the thought of holding her for a couple hours while she was scared shitless appealed way more than it should. Watch it, asshole. “How about Star Wars?”
“You like Star Wars?”
I shrugged. “Everyone likes Star Wars. You know, I’m pretty damned sure Han Solo was a biker.”
She giggled. “You mean, like a space biker?”
“See, when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”
“I wanted to be Princess Leia. She’s badass,” she said, taking a deep drink of her beer. I watched as her lips wrapped around the neck, her throat swallowing. Oh fuck, that was good. She set the beer down on the coffee table with a clink, then let loose with the biggest burp I’d ever heard.
“Fucking hell,” I said, stunned. “I didn’t think girls could burp like that. Shit. Impressive, Mel. Very impressive.”
She grinned at me.
“We’re friends,” she told me. “And friends don’t need to worry about stuff like that. Let me guess—you’ve never had a female friend before?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I’m think I’m a little scared.”
Scared and turned on, which was weird.
“You should be. I can do the whole alphabet.”
Damn. I kinda wanted to see that.
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**PLEASE POST ONE EXCERPT/DAY**
Excerpt 2 & 3 were previously released in Excerpt Reveal
Excerpt #2
Mel,
You know, I write these fuckin’ letters to you, but they’re fake. I ask about your friends and your school and whether you’re meeting people. It’s bullshit, Mel.
Here’s my reality.
Yesterday I stabbed someone before he could stab me. Puck and I sold some shit to a bunch of white supremacists and we turned around and sold the same damned thing to some Mexicans. We had pudding with our dinner for dessert.
Then I jacked off three times thinking about you.
Those are the highlights. Like a fairy tale, right? Remembering you keeps me going, which makes no fucking sense at all. I hardly touched you. I still think about what you smelled like when you sat next to me on the couch, though. You were just this little thing and you shivered under my arm. I know you were scared of the movie and I could’ve picked something else, but I wanted the excuse to hold you.
That’s when I started thinking seriously about us fucking.
I had this vision of shoving you into the cushions face- first, then ripping down your jeans and pushing so deep you’d feel it in the back of your throat. That’s the kind of guy I am, Mel, and that’s why you should stay the fuck away from me.
You give me the chance, I’ll pin you down and keep pumping no matter how hard you try to get away. I dream about it every night, I jerk off to it, and today I gave serious thought to killing a man because he has the same fantasies about you as me. That first night, I promised London I wouldn’t touch you, but my cock had already been hard for hours. Good thing she showed up when she did—saved your ass. How’s that for luck?
When I took you to dinner, I was going to be good. Tried to be good. I know you didn’t understand why I asked you out or what it meant. They needed you out of the way, Mel. That was my job—to keep you busy. And I promised London I wouldn’t pull shit on you but she’d been lying to us all along and I kept wondering if that meant my promise didn’t count anymore.
Pretty damned sure it hasn’t counted for a while now.
You were talking and smiling and blushing. My dick was so stiff it nearly snapped in half when I tried to stand up. Took everything I had not to throw you on my bike and ride off with you . . . I want to tie you up and come in your ass and shove my cock down your throat until you choke. I want your hair in little-girl pigtails so I can hold on tight while I fuck your face. I want you to cry and scream and give me everything. I want to fucking OWN you. How’s that for reality, Mel? You still want my advice about boys?
I’m coming home soon. You should run away while you still can, Mel. I’ll make you dirty, so dirty you’ll never be clean again. I’ll make you pay me back the hard way. You think you’re all grown up, but you’re not. There’s so much I could teach you . . . do to you. Jesus, if you only knew, you’d never write to me again.
You should move to Alaska.
Change your name.
Good luck, though, because I’ll find you and take you and—
Fucking hell.
I dropped my pencil, wondering why I’d thought this was a good idea. I wasn’t going to send it, of course. I’d send her some friendly little note and tell her she should be dating and having fun. But some part of me thought writing my real thoughts out might fix my obsession. Instead my dick was like a rock. Again.
Still.
Always.
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Excerpt #3
“You’re not going back to the party.”
She cocked her head, and I saw the confusion in her alcohol- glazed eyes as she wrinkled her nose at me. All cute, like a rabbit.
“You look like a bunny.”
“You look like an ax murder,” she said, frowning. “And I thought London was looking for me. Aren’t we going the wrong way?”
“I lied. I do that a lot,” I told her, staring at her lips. I reached out, catching her chin in my hand, running my thumb across her lips. Our eyes locked, and I don’t know if her pulse started to rise but mine sure as fuck did. What the hell had I been thinking, writing to this girl? She was so pretty and perfect and had this amazing, magical life just waiting for her and all I could think about was dragging her down into the dirt and shoving my cock into every hole she had.
She’d scream while I did it, too, the same sweet screams that played in my head every night while I jacked off.
I hated myself.
“Why did you lie?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“To get you away from Taz. It’s not safe with him.”
Mel’s forehead creased in confusion, her brain moving so slowly I could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She might be smart as fuck most of the time, but she’d transitioned to drunker than fuck tonight. Kit. Kit and Em. They’d done this to her.  
I leaned in closer, catching her scent. For an instant I swayed, so tempted . . .
“They told me all about you,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“The other girls. Kit, Em. Jessica. I know how you operate,” she continued. One of her hands rose, touching my chest. Fire burst through me, because if I’d wanted her before I was desperate for her now. She was so soft, so sweet . . . so perfect.
Then her words sank in.
“What did you just say?”
“They told me all about you,” she said, eyes dropping to stare at  my lips. “They told me you have a Madonna-whore complex.” I froze.
“A what?”
“A Madonna-whore complex,” she repeated, her voice earnest. “You like to screw dirty girls and you put clean girls on pedestals, where they can stay perfect and pure. That’s pretty messed up, Painter. There’s no such thing as Madonnas and whores. We’re all just people.”
The words stunned me. What the hell was she talking about? Just because I didn’t want her dragged down in the drama and bullshit of this life didn’t mean I had some sort of fucking complex. And who the hell were the Hayes sisters to have an opinion? I couldn’t tell what pissed me off more—the fact that they’d talked to Mel about me or that they hadn’t done a better job of scaring her off.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
“Kit and Em are crazy, and that friend of yours—Jessica? She’s like a car crash. You don’t belong here, Mel.”
“And where do I belong?”
“With some nice kid who’ll treat you like a queen and work his ass off to give you everything perfect for the rest of your life.” The words were practically a growl.
Her eyes widened.
“What if I don’t want perfect?”
“Too fucking bad, because that’s what you’re getting.”

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**Additional teasers attached to email**

About the Author:
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Joanna Wylde is a New York Times bestselling author and creator of the Reapers Motorcycle Club series. She currently lives in Idaho.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter |  Goodreads





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Monday, October 5, 2015

Born Savages by Cora Brent

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Release Blitz

Title: BORN SAVAGES

Author: NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author Cora Brent

Genre: New Adult/Contemporary Romance

Cover designer: LJ Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations https://www.facebook.com/MayhemCoverCreations?fref=ts

Release Date: October 5, 2015



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synopsis


"It was consuming.
It was heartbreaking.
It was something that was forbidden in that time, and in that place."
Once the Savages were national darlings, undisputed Hollywood royalty.  
But that was a long time ago.  
Today we are broke, scattered and ruined, nothing but a cautionary tale and tabloid fodder.  
However, we’ve been offered a chance to redeem ourselves.  All we have to do is open the door and let the cameras in.  
It's everything I've tried to escape from.
I know our sh*t will be laid bare.  Yet I can’t say no to family.  
There’s another complication as well.  
Oscar Savage.  
He’s not my blood.  He’s more.  He is forever intertwined with my soul.
No one knows why he disappeared years ago.
But I do.  
I just don’t know why he’s back...
teasers
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ADD to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25843762-born-savages?from_search=true&search_version=service



excerpt


He’s nothing but casual as he steps from the far side of the truck.  He sees me but doesn’t seem surprised.  
I, on the other hand, am quite surprised.   Even though I’ve fantasized this meeting six thousand times I’m still stunned.  I shouldn’t have been.  
“Loren,” he says and his voice cuts me in half.  He knows it.  His grin is as devastating as it ever was.  I can see in an instant that he’s both different and the same.  His mouth still tilts into a mocking smile automatically.  
But there’s a wide chasm of time between us.  Somewhere in that deep gulf we went from being soul mates to being strangers.  I know nothing about the way this man’s body would feel under my hands.  Whatever agonies he endured after the terrible night he left, the night I coldly ordered him to leave, belong to him alone.  
“Oscar,” I whisper and I don’t miss the way he stops walking, or the way his face freezes.   Maybe he has an entirely new identity and the sound of the old one is unpleasant.  Or maybe he’s hardened by the sound of my voice.   It’s probably easy for him to hate me.  This could be the start of some elaborate revenge.  Obviously it’s no coincidence that he’s here now. While I’ve been wondering how I’m going to make cleaning horseshit look interesting for two months, Gary Vogel, knowing more than he ever hinted at, was scheming behind the scenes, ready to drop a bombshell.  The only demand I’d ever uttered was ‘No Lita’.  I should have figured out what else was up for grabs.  
The cameras are here, ingesting every second.  I have to say something.  I have to do something.  I have to not fall to my knees or run into his arms.  Especially because he’s done nothing to invite me there.  
“Welcome home,” I finally manage to say and it sounds strange even to me because this was never home, not really.  It’s just a place.  That’s all it ever was.  It only matters because of the things that happened here.  
Oscar Savage stares at me from ten feet away.  He looks me over shrewdly and I wonder if he sees more than a pathetic woman who has signed her private life away.  
“Are you staying?” I ask him, clasping my hands behind my back to keep them from trembling.  
“I am,” he answers and there’s an edge to the words, like he’s daring me to argue.  He watches me, all six foot two inches of bristling, resolute maleness.  
I couldn’t move him if I tried.
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authorbio

I love wild romantic stories, grunge era flannel, my vintage Kenmore sewing machine, embroidered dishcloths and absolutely everything that has to do with 1980s pop culture (i.e. leg warmers, scrunchies, big hair, early Madonna, boom boxes, wood paneled walls, stonewash jeans, etc).

If you believe in Happily Ever After and the unique magic of a John Hughes film, chances are I'll love you too!!

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