Friday 31 January 2020


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Teach me everything.

The Hookup Equation, all-new hilarious standalone romantic comedy from Roxie Noir, is coming February 26th, and we have the dreamy cover!

The Hookup Equation Final
My whole life, I’ve been a good girl. I follow rules like nobody’s business. I obey guidelines like I was born to it. Show me a line, and I’ll toe it.
I’m even a twenty-two-year-old virgin. Good is my middle name.
And then, I break one tiny little rule. Miniscule. Inconsequential.
Next thing I know, I’m trapped with an incredibly handsome stranger. He’s got eyes like cut emeralds, biceps that makes my head spin, and a smile that has me rethinking all my life choices.
We escape a bar bathroom together. We go on an impromptu date. We share the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, one that leaves me panting for more. We promise to see each other again.
Turns out, we see each other the next morning.
In my calculus class.
Which he’s teaching.
My handsome, sexy date is Professor Loveless, and we’ll be seeing each other plenty. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday all semester.
There’s no choice but to call it off. We both have too much at stake: I could lose my scholarship, and he could lose his entire career.
But I can’t call off the way I feel.
I can’t call off the way he looks when he rolls up his sleeves and explains imaginary numbers.
I can’t call off the heated glances, or the way our hands touch when I hand in my homework, or the memory of his body pressing against mine that night.
I’m a virgin.
He’s my professor.
And if we give in, it could cost us both everything.
But I’m so tired of being a good girl.
Be notified FIRST when The Hookup Equation is live:
Cover Designed by: Coverluv
About Roxie I love writing sexy, alpha men and the headstrong women they fall for. My weaknesses include: beards, whiskey, nice abs with treasure trails, sarcasm, cats, prowess in the kitchen, prowess in the bedroom, forearm tattoos, and gummi bears. I live in California with my very own sexy, bearded, whiskey-loving husband and two hell-raising cats.
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Flying Woman Tour and Giveaway!

The Flying Woman 
Terrific Book 1 
by Daniel Sherrier 
Genre: Superhero Fantasy

The impossible has become reality! A masked man possesses extraordinary powers, and he’s using those fantastic abilities to fight crime and pursue justice. Meanwhile, Miranda Thomas expects to fail at the only thing she ever wanted to do: become a famous star of the stage and screen. One night, Miranda encounters a woman who’s more than human. But this powerful woman is dying, fatally wounded by an unknown assailant. Miranda’s next decision propels her life in a new direction—and nothing can prepare her for how she, and the world, will change. 

Amazon * B&N * Books-A-Million * IndieBound

The elevator carriage settled, and Miranda expected to find Officer Hoskins somewhere along the well-lit path, ever vigilant as he stood guard over the park. But once the door opened, she saw only a long, vacant stretch of brick surrounded by topiaries and impenetrable darkness. The park did span several acres around the tower. Perhaps something demanded Hoskins’s attention.
Miranda kept her phone in hand as she began her brisk walk, reminding herself that this was one of the safer parts of town. Still, her parents had issued many warnings about the dangers a city held after dark, and her mind replayed the greatest hits. Miranda felt her ears expanding to catch even the faintest rustling of leaves.
She heard something else. Not leaves or wind or any scurrying critter. Nothing from nature. Nothing natural.
A moan. It was coming from somewhere behind those bushes. Miranda’s senses all dialed up to maximum.
She decided to ignore it and stay on the path, stay under the lights. Keep her eyes on her phone and check the hell out of those text messages. Or pretend to while secretly poised to dial 9-1-1 if the need arose—a need like someone leaping out and strangling her.
Whatever it was, Officer Hoskins was probably already on it. That explained his absence. But what if he was the one moaning?
“I’m hurt,” the moaning person called out from the darkness, her voice hoarse.
It was definitely a woman’s voice, not the policeman’s. And he wasn’t around to respond to the cry for help.
This could have been a trap—some creepy man lurking, sheathed in the dark, ready to throw the first unsuspecting good citizen into a black van. And if not, well, really, what could Miranda do to help? Aside from the simple task of dialing 9-1-1.
It would be the right thing to do, in case someone was suffering. Miranda could make the call and run away.
“Help. Please.”
Miranda wanted to keep walking until she exited the park, but her feet refused to budge and she cringed. She remained physically capable of forward momentum, just not mentally.
Her stomach folded in on itself, threatening to incite debilitating queasiness unless she did the right thing. If she walked away, she’d spend days or weeks dwelling on whatever she walked away from, constantly checking the news for any hints about what the hell this was. All food would lose its appeal, and she would look back on the concept of sleep with nostalgic fondness.
She considered running back up to Ken, but he was nearly half a mile above the ground. And someone right here might be hurt.
Miranda dialed the digits 9-1-1 and positioned her thumb over the “call” icon. Without hitting it just yet, she advanced toward the source of the moaning and commanded herself not to dissolve into a shivering mess of nerves. She did not heed herself. Her shaking thumb almost jabbed “call” by accident.
Didn’t happen, though. A flash of light cut through the park for just a second, and she stopped. Where did it come from? Not the park’s lighting system. Was it … Fantastic Man? Was she about to meet Fantastic Man? This seemed more like something he should handle, not her.
“That was me,” the woman said, each word scraping against Miranda’s ears. So scratchy and parched. She wasn’t far, maybe only a few feet into the darkness. “Want to make sure I … have your attention.”
Without stepping off the path, Miranda dared to look between the bushes. A new source of light flickered low to the ground, revealing a much older woman lying on the grass. The light came from the strange electricity that was cascading over her unusual outfit, which looked like a superhero costume—emerald tights with a scarlet cape. A deep red symbol occupied the center of the chest, the silhouette of a bird’s wing melding into a fierce, sharp beak. The costume lacked a mask, though. But this woman had to be at least fifty, maybe sixty, and Miranda had never seen her before. Surely if an older female superhero had emerged, she would have dominated the news as much as Fantastic Man did, probably more so on account of her unexpected demographic affiliation.
Or was she a supervillain? Was this a trap? Was Miranda stupidly falling into a trap?
The woman was clutching her side, pressing her hand against a dark liquid …
Blood. The super electric woman was wounded to the point where she was bleeding all over the grass. Miranda did not care to stick around to learn who did the wounding, nor did she relish the idea of running away and unwittingly intercepting such a person.
The woman reached toward Miranda with her free hand, which glowed as bright as a standard light bulb, no more intense than that. The electricity never sparked beyond her elbow, so the hand appeared safe.
“Come here,” the woman said. “Help me up. The pain … is too great.”
If she was actually in pain. Miranda started to wonder. The injury seemed real, but the woman almost looked like she was smirking. Miranda’s eyes were still adjusting to the aura of electrical light, though, and she wanted any excuse to get the hell away with a clear conscience.
Paranoia was not an excuse to let someone suffer, so Miranda started to reach for that bright, quivering hand. And paranoia froze her anyway, after only an inch of movement.
“Should I call an ambulance or the police?” Miranda asked, continuing rapidly without pause, “And who are you and where is that electricity coming from? Am I in danger just by standing here? Are you going to kill me? Please don’t kill me.”
The woman chuckled through gritted teeth, as if Miranda had told a joke. “Just grab my hand, dear.”

Daniel Sherrier is a writer based in central Virginia. He is the author of the novel "The Flying Woman." A College of William & Mary graduate, he has worked for community newspapers, written a few plays that have been performed, and earned his black belt in Thai kickboxing. And there was that one time he jumped out of an airplane, which was memorable. 

$25 Amazon gift card 
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Moving Again!!! With Rylan and Henry #Blitz

Children's Picture Book
Publisher: AuthorHouse

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Rylan is five and has a mouse friend named Henry. Soon after Dad arrives home from deployment, he announces that they are moving 4,421 miles away. Come on an adventure with Rylan and his family moving from Anchorage, Alaska, through Canada to their new home in South Carolina. Will Henry go with the family, be forgotten, or get packed in a box, left behind.

This book is dedicated to military families that mover thousands of miles each year.

About the Author

Christy Jordan Wrenn has been a published children's author since 2014. She is an Indie published author and illustrator of four books: Rylan and Burt (2014), Rylan and Henry (2015), Emma's Funny Birds (2016), Moving Again !!! With Rylan and Henry (2018), and the (second edition 2019). Currently, she is an Administrative Librarian at Centenary College of Louisiana in Shreveport, Louisiana. Christy has 40+ years of experience in the field of public, special and academic libraries.

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Thursday 30 January 2020

Paine by Tracy Lorraine #Cover Reveal

Title: Paine
Series: Rosewood High #2
Author: Tracy Lorraine
Genre: YA/NA High School Bully Romance
Cover Photo: Michelle Lancaster
Model: Lochie Carey
Release Date: February 20, 2020


She was my best friend. The person I told my deepest secrets to. But when my world came crashing down, it was all because of her family.

From that moment, I realized I’d been wrong to trust her. Her big caring eyes and sweet face were nothing but an act as she’d watched on while I tried to keep my head above water.

That was our past.

Now, I’ve largely put Camila behind me and moved on with my life. Though it doesn’t explain why she’s always there: taunting me, tempting me, showing me the life I could have been living.

I should have been laughing when her own world turned upside down. Karma always wins out in the end. But suddenly we’re forced together once again and I have no choice but to remember the girl I’ve tried so hard to forget.

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Author Bio

Tracy Lorraine is a M/F and M/M contemporary romance author. Tracy recently-ish turned thirty and lives in a cute Cotswold village in England with her husband, daughter and lovable but slightly crazy dog. Having always been a bookaholic with her head stuck in her Kindle Tracy decided to try her hand at a story idea she dreamt up and hasn’t looked back since.

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Little White Lies Tour and Giveaway!

Little White Lies 
Truth or Lies Series Book 1 
by Jude Ouvrard 
Genre: New Adult Romance 
Publication Date: January 6, 2020

When Hunter Reed’s longtime plans go awry following her college graduation, she has two choices. She can wallow in her grief, or she can get away from Utah, and the people who broke her. Determined to escape the shadow of her parents and make it on her own terms, she lands her dream job at an up-and-coming graphic design company in Portland, packs her bags, and hits the road.

No sooner has Hunter arrived, than the adventures begin. With a new apartment, and learning her job comes with a private office—and a handsome boss who is her age—she settles in straight away, befriending neighbors and co-workers alike. Welcomed into the fold, the transition is smooth and easy.

Almost too easy.

Just when she gets comfortable with how perfect her life is going, an unforgettable Elvis at a costume party will make Hunter forget everything she was taught about propriety, leading to a night of drunken abandonment and dangerous encounters that will set in motion a web of little white lies which could undo everything she has worked so hard for.

Although Hunter finds herself facing two choices again, this time, her heart is on the line. 

Goodreads * Amazon

I close my eyes and again find myself resting against him while he holds me there, safe. I love how caring he is with me even though he has no idea who I am. Which is funny. Everything about tonight is funny. My costume, my attitude, his costume… it’s all a game, and for now, I’m having the time of my life. No need to worry about if my father finds out I went out in public like this. He won’t. I’m far from home. This is my life. It’s past time I start living it.
The more I think about it, the more hilarious I find the situation. I never would’ve done half of what I’d done tonight if it weren’t for Catwoman. It’s weird. Who am I? For now, the only certainty is that I’m a single woman who’s enjoying a night out in a new city.
“Are you feeling okay?” Elvis asks again, and his concerns amuse me.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Hey, if not for the costumes, would you have done all of this with me tonight?” I ask, uncertain if I want to hear his answer.
“You mean dancing, making out,” his eyes lower to my lips, “and drinking. Maybe. I don’t know.” A little frown forms a crease in the makeup on his forehead. “I think we’re having fun, and that’s all we should think about now.”
“Hey, Hunter,” Xander calls my name, and I turn around. The look on his face tells me something isn’t right. “Emma isn’t feeling so good, so we’re heading home. Are you coming? You’re looking pretty drunk yourself, maybe you should come, too.”
Elvis steps away from me, then, and I can feel indecision tugging me in half. On impulse, I call back, “You can go, I’ll call a taxi later.”
There’s no way I’m leaving now; I’m having way too much fun.
“Are you sure?” Xander asks, his attention fixed on Elvis; it’s sweet of him to feel protective of me so soon after us meeting.
“Yes.” I nod. “Are we still hanging out tomorrow?”
“Sure, unless you end up marrying Elvis tonight.”
I start laughing. “In Vegas, maybe.” I laugh at my own joke for a few seconds more then turn to Elvis. “I have to say bye to my friend, I’ll be right back.”
I hook my arm into Xander’s, hoping not to trip. These heels have gotten harder to walk in as the night has gone on. The closer we get to the table, the more I can see how green Emma looks.
“Oh, my gosh. What happened to her?”
“She had one too many beers and her dinner came out her nose in the restroom,” Xander explains with a chuckle.
She’s worse off than me, and I feel bad for her. That must have hurt like hell.
“What’s up with you and the Elvis guy?” Xander asks.
“I don’t know. He’s nice.” I start laughing. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, Xander, other than having a good time. Maybe, for the first time in my life.”
He grins and squeezes me closer to his body.
“Hunter, I thought you’d forgotten about us.”
Despite feeling sick, Emma still noticed I’d been busy with someone. She cared, and I’m touched.
“No, no, guys. I’m sorry.” I hug Emma and regret it right away. She smells terrible. Vomit isn’t my fragrance of choice.
We walk outside, where the air is a lot colder.
“Will you be okay by yourself?”
Emma’s concerned, but she shouldn’t be. I can handle this. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t worry about me. Go home, drink a lot of water, and with any luck, tomorrow, you’ll be fine.”
“Okay, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They depart in a taxi cab, leaving me alone. Elvis flashes in my mind, but I’m not in a hurry to go back inside. All the thumping music and elevated body temperatures were making me feel dizzy. The cool, fresh air is soothing, so I stay outside.
I look around and the city is quiet, it’s only in my head where things are kind of loud. I still feel the music vibrations in my pulse, and the touches of my mystery Elvis’ arms around my waist or teasing my bum. The few things we’ve said to each other replay in my mind.
I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m new to the dating thing. After so many years of being faithful to a man who dropped me, now I want to experience what people my age do when they are single. From what I know, Jared didn’t cheat on me in a physical sense, but it was clear he had eyes for someone else while we were together. I don’t let my mind think about the what ifs because it’ll kill my mood. We’re over. That’s all there is to say.
“Meeooowww,” someone says behind me, and I spin around.
“Are you lost, little kitten? Do you have a name tag or something? I would love to bring you home with me and pet you.”
His words repulse me. What kind of a pick-up line is that? It’s disgusting. “Eww, stop that. You’re gross.”

Jude Ouvrard is a mom, a girlfriend, a sister, and a daughter... well, you get the idea.

She's also an avid reader and writer. Ouvrard loves books--the words in them, and the worlds of fantasy they create. Basically, she's a sucker for any type of romance book. That's her thing.

Born and raised in a small village in the Canadian countryside, it's been nearly two decades since she moved out of the family home to go explore and enjoy the city life. Living with her longtime boyfriend, their son, and their fur babies in Montreal, her days are labored away at a law firm while she lives her dream job by night. Writing. Creating. Giving shape and form to the characters who whisper their stories in her head.

Ouvrard writes new adult, military, and contemporary romance tales filled with drama, love, and everything in between. 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Waiting For Milo by Angel Devlin #OutSoon


Pre-order for just 0.99 (limited time offer):

Waiting For Milo by Angel Devlin releases 26th February.

He called her Rapunzel. 
Now she’s back in a tower of her own making. 
Can he rescue his princess and live happily ever after? 

After purchasing her nan’s old home, Violet Blake wonders if the mysterious Waite family still live in the house across the garden. But there are bigger things to worry about—like how she’s going to get the hole in the ceiling repaired and the neglected house modernised. Lucky for her, the Waite family do turn out to be her neighbours and run a property renovation business. 

Enter Milo Waite. 
Caveman. Protector. Stubborn as hell. 

He won’t take no for an answer and sets about making sure his princess has her castle. But repairing the house isn’t his only project. He wants Violet. 

Real life isn’t a fairy tale though, and buried family secrets threaten not only their budding relationship but to tear their families apart.

Welcome to the first in the series about the Waite family. A family that deep down all just want to find true love.

BEAUTIFULLY SCARRED by H.P. Davenport #CoverReveal

Beautifully Scarred by H.P. Davenport is #ComingFeb20th! Don’t miss this emotional read which tells a story of two people destined to be more and experience their heartbreaking journey.

BLURB With her past firmly behind her where it belongs, Juliette has made a career out of turning her scars into art. She uses her skills to help others cover the evidence of their pain, too. But some scars are too deep, too painful for anyone to hide completely. Juliette has everything she could ever need--great parents, her dream job, the best friend a girl could ask for, and a new body to warm her bed whenever she wants. With her focus firmly on the here and now, she never expects a kiss from a stranger to throw a bomb in the middle of her carefully constructed life. Every wound leaves a scar. Every scar tells a story. Her story left her beautifully scarred.  

Cover Designed by: Shower of Schmidt Designs  

Add to your Goodreads TBR:

EXCERPT: Jerry approaches with my drink, clearing his throat. “Here ya go, sweetheart.” Jerry eyes the man standing next to me. “What can I get you?” Lifting the tumbler to my lips, I enjoy the satisfying burn from the mouthful I swallow. “I’ll have what the beautiful lady is having.” Feeling the weight of his stare, I look over at him. The black T-shirt molds to his body, revealing broad shoulders, a core of solid muscle, and a lean waist. If I look close enough, I may be able to count the number of abs he has. His deep blue eyes lock with mine for a long moment. Starting at my feet, he does a slow sweep over my body. My nipples harden while I watch his cobalt-colored eyes as he appraises my entire body. He leans into me, and I get a strong whiff of his fresh scent, like warm laundry fresh out of the dryer. His head dips to whisper next to my ear. “You fucking the old guy?” His voice is hoarse and sexy as fuck. His breath against my skin causes a fire inside my body to burn. What the hell is the matter with me? I had sex the other day, I should be good for a little while. Although I crave the touch of a man, I have a full drawer of toys to serve their purpose when needed. I pull back, putting some space between us, and I laugh. “Excuse me?” My eyes bore into him. He shrugs nonchalantly. “He called you sweetheart when he delivered your drink. When I walked up, he looked at me as if he was staking his claim on you. I want to make sure I’m not poaching on another man’s territory.” His flawless complexion alone would make anyone do a double-take. But it’s not his face that draws my attention as much as it is the artwork decorating his strong arms down to the tops of both hands. Parts of a back piece peek out above his shirt on the back of his neck. The rich outlines of his shoulders strain against the fabric. His dark hair is wild and mussed, looking like he just ran his fingers through it. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not with him, nor have I ever been.” I trace the rim of my glass with my finger, trying not to focus on his beautiful face. I divert my eyes to the television mounted to the wall above the bar and attempt to ignore his presence. “Has anyone ever told you your eyes are beautiful?” Without taking my eyes off the game, I reply, “If you think that line is going to get you anywhere with me, you better try harder. I’m not that type of girl.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice he arches a brow. My comment must have hit a nerve. “Trust me, you’d want to come home with me. Know that for sure.” His remark sure as hell got my attention. My eyes widen, and I feel the heat of a blush on my cheeks. Every hair on my scalp stands at attention, every skin cell tingles, every neuron is on fire. What the hell is wrong with me? I anchor my attention on the hot as fuck man standing next to me. For some reason, his comment makes me want to study him more. I lock eyes with him, wanting to ask what he wants from me. Instead, I lift my drink to my lips and take a deep mouthful, letting the liquid warm my throat. My thoughts run away from me, fantasizing about how hard his body is beneath his fitted shirt, how his body would feel against mine, how good he would fuck me. I shake myself from the spell this man has cast upon me. My heart beats erratically in my chest as I wrap my hand around the tumbler in front of me. He’s attractive: his hard jaw, his sharp nose, his dark hair. There’s a twinkle in his eye; I’m not sure if it’s arrogance or self-assurance. I know from the way he stands, presents himself, he’s used to getting what he wants. This man surely has no issues attracting women. I would fuck him. I want to take him home and have him fuck my brains out more than I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone in my life. A shiver runs through my body just thinking about what those hands could do to me. What his mouth would do to me. My eyes take in the man standing before me. He is something, that’s for sure. I bring my gaze back up to his, pausing briefly at his mouth. He leans both forearms on the bar, studying me openly. He looks as if he belongs on the cover of Inked magazine. His dark unruly hair is perfect on him, shaved short on both sides, revealing his tattooed scalp. His jaw is rugged and chiseled with a hint of a five o’clock shadow that gives him an even more manly aura. Blue eyes the color of the ocean and dark lashes capture my attention. I tip the rim of the glass flirtatiously against my lip, finishing my drink. He runs the tip of his finger over my left arm, and goosebumps cloak my inked skin. Leaning back, I put some distance between us. I don’t like men touching me unless they’re invited to. The fact that my body reacted to him the way it did infuriates me. He is too good-looking for his own good as he smiles warmly at me. His teeth, even and white, contrast pleasingly with his olive skin. “Nice work.” “Thanks.” “You don’t see many girls with full sleeves.” I smirk. “I’m not like most girls,” I reply, playing with my lip ring. He smiles proudly. “I can tell.” My brows furrow. “Really?” This is uncharted territory for me. One, a man never makes me feel uncomfortable around them. I can play the game. I’m always the player, never one to be played. But something about this guy has me uneasy. He points to my empty glass. “Can I get you another drink?” Swallowing the knot in my throat, I simply nod while I play with my tongue ring. This is my most beneficial piercing. I’m able to play with it by rolling it around in my mouth at times when I’m stressed, anxious, or nervous. Hence why I’m doing it now. It helps me relax. I can do it without being visible to other people. A better coping mechanism than what I used to resort to years ago, but that’s in the past. He raises his hand in the air, gaining Jerry's attention. “Can I get two more?” With his attention back on me, he lets out a low whistle, pointing to my left arm. “Your pieces are good. You can tell the artist knows the craft.” “Do you think I’d let some half-assed artist work on me? Not gonna happen. Not on my dime.” Jerry places our second round of drinks in front of me. “Any good shops in the area?” “As a matter of fact, there is. A place not too far from here called Novocain. Best artists in the tri-state area.” Jerry inserts himself in our conversation before I can reply. A knowing look moves over Jerry’s face, and I shake my head, chuckling at his comment. “I’ll have to check it out.” “You new in town?” I ask, compelled to find out more about him. He lifts his drink to his mouth and takes a mouthful, then sets his glass down on the bar. “Yeah, moved here last week,” he replies with a dimpled grin. Damn, this guy is good-looking. “Do you have a name?” His deep voice does things to me. “I do.” Biting my lip ring, I shift uncomfortably on my feet. He leans in, shifting closer to me. “You gonna give it to me?” I swallow hard as a shiver runs down my neck. Putting a little distance between us, I lean back, looking into his eyes and extend my hand. “Mills.” His face instantly shifts into a devilish grin. Something stirs in my chest. He takes my hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Mills. I’m Lee.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “You think you’re something, don’t you?” I examine him through curious gray eyes. Lee smirks, running his hands through his ink-colored hair. “Not at all. What makes you think that?” he asks with a cocky smile on his face. I scoff. “Just a vibe I get. I’m pretty good at reading people.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips, making him even sexier. “Then read me.” He rolls his glass between his palms then takes another drink, eyeing me thoughtfully. Lifting my hand in the air, I raise my pointer finger in the air. “One, you’re good-looking, but I’m sure you already know.” I lift my middle finger to join the other. “You’ve got the bad boy vibe going for you, and I’m quite certain girls throw themselves at you, and I’m even more certain you catch each and every one of them.” Every single female in this packed bar has their eyes on him and can’t look away. There’s something captivating about him. He looks around the bar as if he can read my thoughts. He smiles, undoubtedly thinking about it. With three fingers held up, I continue. “You’re not used to being turned down because it doesn’t happen often.” I lift my fourth and final finger. “You carry yourself with confidence, which you should. From the work I can see, your ink is remarkable. The artist who did them knows the art quite well. I’m even impressed, and that doesn’t happen easily.” “You hit the nail on the head with a few, but not all,” he replies, his voice low and husky. Leaning forward, we are now eye to eye; only our breaths separate our mouths. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” My tongue slides out to flick my lip ring, drawing his attention to my mouth. His eyes travel to my lips, then meet my gaze again. His gaze darkens, and his voice lowers intimately. “I’m picky with who I fuck.”    

DAVENPORT THE UNSPOKEN LOVE SERIES Unspoken Words: Unspoken Promises: Unspoken Vows: Unspoken Fears:    

Paralegal by day, romance genius by night! When she's not tending to her furry children and her handsome husband, H.P. DAVENPORT is seamlessly carving beautiful stories from her mind in her comfy PJs in New Jersey.   

Aurea Mediocritas #Blitz

Aurea Mediocritas: A Book of Short Stories
Short Stories
Date Published October 2019
Publisher: Page Publishing

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The term, Aurea Mediocritas, refers to the golden mean, a balance between two extremes. ­ e characters in “Queerious”, faced with insurmountable odds in a society unaccepting of same-sex relationships and the hidden secrets which have divided the family.

The story "In a Nutshell," features an expedition in the Amazon, where an ancient ritual amulet is discovered by a young boy. He makes a wish on the amulet and rapidly began to age twenty-five years older. The boy's father makes a bargain and faces the consequences of his sacrifice at a price too dear to pay. The father desperately searches to find a balance between dealing with his own demons and striving to save his son.

In “For the Sake of my Enemies,” a young Japanese girl immigrates to the USA and joins the international police task force she was assigned to a US Federal case. On an assignment in Japan to bring back a crime boss who has ed from prosecution, she unravels an old Japanese cold case and found the man who killed her father and brother. She struggles to and balance, revenge or her mission.

About the Author

Gaston D. Cox, a famous American writer, graduated from Irvine University College of Law and now lives in China. He fled the United States and came to China because of his wounds. First, he worked as an English teacher at Qiqihar University, then he transferred to Shanghai because he was not tolerant of the cold. He has been a university professor, legal adviser and medical representative for several years. Although a seven-foot man is a strong man, I have a delicate and sensitive heart. When I came to China, I was inspired and fell in love with writing. I published many books. The words are passionate and popular with many Chinese fans. His representative works include Cries of insanity, Aurea Mediocritas, Sounds of Silent, The Seventh Plague, and Life Cubed.

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Wednesday 29 January 2020

The Last Real Cowboy (Cold River Ranch #3) by Caitlin Crews #Review

The Last Real Cowboy

(Cold River Ranch #3)


Feisty (Do-Over #3) by Julia Kent #Blitz

Out Now—FEISTY (Do-Over Series Book 3) by Julia Kent (@jkentauthor) #romance #romcom #contemporary

Release date: January 28, 2020
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance
Cover Designer: Hang Le
Editor: Elisa Reed
Audiobook narrator: Erin Mallon


(Do-Over #3)


I’m not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland. Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends. So what is Chris “Fletch” Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he’s pattern matching a picture to find a real person he’s never met before? Oh. Oh, no. The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname. That’s right. Feisty. — More from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent as Fiona “Feisty” Gaskill gets her chance at love - drop-kick included.

Other Standalone Books in the Series:
Little Miss Perfect:

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I charge Fletch, channeling it all, giving him what he's asking for.

He moves as I plow into the bag, my body still unable to attack him directly, his hands on my waist as I spin. Dropping to the ground, I use my lower position to twist out of his grasp, leg cocked and ready, but he's fast.

So fast.

Sweat sprouts all over my body like someone's misting me, the sudden crush of hormones, heat, and the pounding physicality of what we're doing making me wet.

In more ways than one.

I'm a mixture of revulsion and arousal, hating myself for feeling this way as his arms encircle me, my mind split between re-igniting the terror of the preschool attack and the very real, visceral feel of Fletch's skin against mine, welcoming the rutting, animal-like push of his slick thigh muscles against my arm as I fight him, working to pin him.

Failing miserably.

By the time we're done, this scrimmage is a joke, his body pressing me into the ground, arms immovable, my breath heating his nose as he looks down on me with a grin.

And then that fades.

Replaced by the unfiltered expression of a man who is falling. Falling, falling, falling into me.

Like time itself has collapsed.

And the sheer force of attraction is how we propel ourselves forward.

“This is great!” Michael shouts from the sidelines, the click click click of his shutter breaking the silence, Fletch's hips digging into mine, his hardness making it clear how he feels about me.

He doesn't move. My wrists are pressed into the mat, my hair tugging at the roots, caught under my shoulder blades.

“See?” he whispers in the space between us. “Not happening again. You kicked my ass in seventh grade. But we're not tweens now, are we?”

As he says the words, my nipples harden, a yearning in the form of flesh centering between my legs. All I want to do right now is wrap my ankles around his waist and be screwed four ways to Sunday.

If that's even really a thing.

“No,” I gasp, fighting and failing to be freed. “We're not. And if we're not, then what are we?”

“You tell me, Fiona. What are we?”

All the oxygen in the room rushes out. I'm left in space, floating, aimless and without anchor.

Jolene was wrong.

So wrong.

Space isn't my friend. It's my enemy. It's where everything safe becomes dangerous.

Where Fletch becomes the good guy.

The hot guy.

The I-need-him-in-me guy.

And where it's all caught on camera.

Because this journey started there, with Rico and cameras and people watching me because they can.

As Michael shoots photos and dictates angles, all I feel is Fletch's rum-THUM-rum-THUM beat, his
heart against mine, telling me stories that go back seventeen years.

Before my heart wall had turrets. Before my heart wall had defenses and gun mounts and cannons.

Before I had a wall around my heart at all.

The kiss comes, unexpected but oh, so right. Fletch's mouth is inevitable, lips on mine like fate herself stepped into the frame and ordered us to do this. Logically, it makes no sense, but emotionally, it’s what the universe dictates, the kiss aligning so many layers of my being that it's almost painful how perfect this is.

His hands loosen at my wrists, one threading its way through my hair, tugging just enough to break the sensuality of this moment, but also brutal enough to make my hips rise up and beg for more. His tongue is exploring me like no good guy should, nothing but bad and filthy and raunchy and a promise of slick, hot, no-holds-barred sex if I just let him in, just let him try, just let him–

Just plain old let him.

But first, I have to let myself.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 19 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing in 2020 and beyond. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy). She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.

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