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Thursday, May 10, 2018

Mafia Princess by Bella J.

Title: Mafia Princess
Series: Royal Mafia Series
Author: Bella J.
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: May 8, 2018
Publisher: Crave Publishing



Rules. I’m starting to think I have the natural talent for breaking them. 

I hate rules. Always have. Especially since I had them shoved in my face my entire life.

I didn’t ask to be a Valenti. And I sure as hell didn’t agree to follow all their goddamn rules. 

Yet it’s been years since I broke one of my family’s most cardinal laws. It was a mistake—I know that now. But that’s the thing about mistakes. You never know you’re about to make one until it’s too late.

Unfortunately, every transgression, every wrong decision has a way to demand atonement. No matter if it’s hours, days, or years after. 

I’m still waiting for my past mistakes to exact payment. It’ll come. I know it will. 

But now, while I’m sitting in the interrogation room staring at the sinfully gorgeous Detective Lorik Stone, I can’t help but think about all my family’s rules…

…and how I’m about to break another one.








I was a strong woman. Men hardly ever intimidated me, and seducing me was no easy task. But this man? This man had my attention for nothing more than a few minutes, and already my mind was filled with dirty thoughts and wild fantasies.  

He stepped up to me, his face inches from mine. I felt his warm breath skid across my cheek, and the sensation stormed straight through my body, settling right between my thighs.
As he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath started to stir an array of sensations all through my body. My heart was now jackhammering against my ribs, my throat feeling like the damn desert. 
When he lifted his arm, his gaze never leaving mine, I sucked in a breath. And then he reached behind me, his lips mere inches away, and pushed a button next to my head and said, “Monroe, open the door for Miss Valenti.”
I thought I died. I was dead. I died and collapsed into a giant puddle of pathetic womanhood. 
The click of the door sounded behind me, and I was out of there faster than you could say “what the fuck was that?”
As my heels clicked down the hall, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal, I heard a second pair of footsteps behind me.
“You in town long, Miss Valenti?” 
I took a deep breath, but I didn’t slow down. “You’re the detective, you tell me.”
“I’m guessing no more than a few weeks?”
“Is that you guessing or saying?”
He fell into step next to me. “I’m going to go with guessing.”
I stopped and turned to face him. “You’re good, Detective, I’ll give you that. But let’s say you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—but if I am the daughter of an Italian-American mafia boss, as you suspect I am, you’ve got real balls summoning me down here and then putting me in a damn interrogation room like a criminal. I’d say that wasn’t a very smart move, Detective.”
He studied my face, and I didn’t even blink. Heck, I didn’t even breathe. 
“Are you threatening me, Karina?” Lord help me, but the way my name rolled off his lips was like eroticism on fucking steroids. It was like porn to my ears.
I took a step back and tried to ignore the tingles spreading through my bones like wildfire, and I squared my shoulders. 
“Not at all.” I lifted my voice a single octave. “I’m merely stating that if what you said was true, you just made one hell of a rookie mistake.”
With my words hanging in the air like the threat it was meant to be, I turned on my heel and sashayed my curvy ass out of there. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, until I exited the building.
The moment I stepped outside, I took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. The feeling that scratched against every bone in my body was too damn familiar. I’d experienced this before, the feeling of a man being able to electrify my body without even touching me. It was unnerving, yet exciting at the same time. But I learned the hard way that this feeling was also powerful enough to bring me to my knees. I promised myself I would never let a man affect me like that again. Too much was at stake, and I already had too many regrets because I gave in to that temptation once. 
But, by God, my body felt like it was on fire just having Detective Stone’s eyes on me. He wasn’t even touching me, or close to touching me, for that matter. There was sweat running down my back, for God’s sake. That was how he managed to affect me within less than twenty-five minutes. 
It was the eyes. It had to be those dark goddamn eyes. Devil eyes, that was what they were. Dark windows into the demonic world where he could make you offer up sweet, innocent little puppies with a single glance. Damn, I was pretty sure he would make you want to toss in a tiny kitten as well, just for good measure.
I exhaled and looked up to the sky. Was this the universe’s way of playing one sick joke on me, showing me no matter how hard I tried to put the past behind me, there was no way of escaping who I was? A woman drawn to the forbidden, charmed by the prospects of breaking rules, and resisting authority by walking on the edge?
No. Not again. Never.







All the way from Cape Town, South Africa, Bella J lives for the days when she’s able to retreat to her writer’s cave where she can get lost in her little pretend world of romance, love, and insanely hot bad boys.

Bella J is a Hybrid Author with both Self-Published and Traditional Published work. Even though her novels range from drama, to comedy, to suspense, it's the dark, twisted side of romance she loves the most.




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Wednesday, May 9, 2018

A Woman's Lot by Carolyn Hughes




Release Date: June 4, 2018
Genre: Historical fiction
Series: Book 2 of The Meonbridge Chronicles
Publisher: SilverWood Books

How can mere women resist the misogyny of men?
When a resentful peasant rages against a woman’s efforts to build up her flock of sheep.
…or a husband, grown melancholy and ill-tempered, succumbs to idle talk that his wife’s a scold.
…or a priest, fearful of women’s “unnatural” power, determines to keep them in their place.
The devastation wrought two years ago by the Black Death changed the balance of society, and gave women a chance to break free from the yoke of chatteldom, to learn a trade, build a business, be more than just men’s wives.
But many men still hold fast to the teachings of the Church, and fear the havoc the daughters of Eve might wreak if they’re allowed to usurp men’s roles, and gain control over their own lives.
Not all men resist women’s quest for change – indeed, they want change for themselves.
Yet it takes only one or two misogynists to unleash the hounds of hostility and hatred…

Do you like the sound of this book? You can review it as part of the review tour on 4th – 8th June 2018! Just email brookbooks@hotmail.co.uk to register your interest and with details of your blog!

ABOUT CAROLYN HUGHES

Carolyn Hughes was born in London, but has lived most of her life in Hampshire. After a first degree in Classics and English, she started her working life as a computer programmer, in those days a very new profession. It was fun for a few years, but she left to become a school careers officer in Dorset. But it was when she discovered technical authoring that she knew she had found her vocation. She spent the next few decades writing and editing all sorts of material, some fascinating, some dull, for a wide variety of clients, including an international hotel group, medical instrument manufacturers and the Government. She has written creatively for most of her adult life, but it was not until her children grew up and flew the nest, several years ago, that creative writing and, especially, writing historical fiction, took centre stage in her life. She has a Masters in Creative Writing from Portsmouth University and a PhD from the University of Southampton.

A Woman’s Lot is the second of the Meonbridge Chronicles, her series of historical novels set in fourteenth century England. The first, Fortune’s Wheel, was published in 2016. The third in the series is well under way.

Facebook: CarolynHughesAuthor
Twitter: @writingcalliope
Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/2hs2rrX
Also at http://the-history-girls.blogspot.com (20th of every month)


Win an Ebook copy of Book 1 & Book 2!






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Deep Shadow by Nick Sullivan

Author: Nick Sullivan

Narrator: Nick Sullivan

Length: 8 hours 10 minutes

Publisher: Wild Yonder Press

Released: May 1, 2018

Genre: Action-Adventure


In the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, something lethal is on the move.

Scuba divers travel from all over the world to visit the little island of Bonaire, with its crystal-clear waters and a host of beautiful marine life. After three years in the “Diver’s Paradise”, divemaster Boone Fischer thought he’d seen it all; but on a routine afternoon dive, he spots something that will turn his tranquil life upside down.

From the arid shores of the ABC Islands to the tropical jungles of Venezuela—from the ocean depths of the Southern Caribbean, to the lush islands of the Northern Leewards, Deep Shadow takes Boone and the reader on an action-packed adventure filled with danger and suspense.

"The age-old adage of ‘write what you know’ becomes very important when you write about a technical subject like scuba diving. When you get all the details right, and throw in just the right amounts of action, humor, romance, and suspense, you have a novel like this." - Wayne Stinnett, bestselling author of "Fallen Out".






Born in East Tennessee, NICK SULLIVAN has spent most of his adult life as an actor in New York City, working in theater, television, film, and audiobooks. After narrating hundreds of books over the last twenty years, he decided to write his own. Nick has been an avid scuba diver for many years and his travels to numerous Caribbean islands have inspired this series. His first novel, “Zombie Bigfoot”, hit #1 in Horror Comedy on Amazon.

NICK SULLIVAN has been narrating audiobooks for over twenty years, recording over four hundred titles and receiving numerous AudioFile Earphones and Audie nominations and awards. He has worked extensively on Broadway and at many U.S. theaters. His TV credits include The Good Wife, The Affair, Divorce, Younger, Bull, Madam Secretary, Boardwalk Empire, 30 Rock, Elementary, and all three Law and Order series. Film credits include Our Idiot Brother and Private Life. Proud member of SAG-AFTRA.

Website⎮Twitter⎮Facebook⎮Goodreads

Q&A with Author/Narrator Nick Sullivan
  • Tell us about the process of turning your book into an audiobook.
    • The interesting thing about my process, having narrated over 400 titles over more than twenty years, is I’ve learned how effective a narrator is at catching typos, clunky sentences, and even plot inconsistencies. My final polishing on the writing occurs in the booth as I record. I have a separate document open where I make notes about what I have decided to change as I narrate; then I go back to the manuscript and apply what I learned in front of the microphone before finalizing it.
  • How did you wind up narrating audiobooks? Was it always your goal or was it something you stumbled into by chance?
    • I was at an audition and saw a notice on a cork board, asking from actors to narrate books for the blind for charity, for the Jewish Braille Institute. I put the number in my pocket. The next week I was shooting an NYU film, and the actress who was playing my wife said she recorded for Talking Books. I took their number. On lunch break I went to this device that used to exist, a “pay phone” and made two calls. First, to Jewish Braille, offering to narrate that week. Then to Talking Books… letting them know I “had experience narrating audiobooks… although I wasn’t available until the following week. I taught voice and speech at Rutgers and was good at accents, so I was able to convince them to see me. By the end of that next week, I’d made my first money as a narrator, with “A Day No Pigs Would Die”.
  • How did you decide how each character should sound in this title?
    • I create a “VoiceScape” for everyone in the book, noting every single thing the author gives me about where a character is from, their physical appearance, personality, speech quirks. Then I just let the information form the voice… though I always go through and make sure I don’t have characters that are going to be too similar side by side.
  • Were there any real life inspirations behind your writing?
    • Yes. I’ve been diving for twenty years, visiting numerous Caribbean islands. Many things in this book were loosely based on things I experienced (or heard about). I reached out to some folks I’ve dived with, and some authors I’ve narrated for who know the ocean well, for additional inspiration.
  • Do you read reviews for your audiobooks?
    • Sometimes. It’s interesting, I know so many narrators who have declared “I stopped reading reviews”; and then I narrated a book by a mindfulness guru who sited a psychological study that a “negative occurrence” has about four times the weight as a positive one. And I think that’s true! We all want to be liked… so when you see a negative review, you want to say “Why don’t they like me?” One of the biggest names in the biz (I won’t say who) got all wound up by this incredibly tiny amount of bad reviews. It’s really like everywhere else in life, you can’t please everyone. I just do my best to please the author! I always appreciate “author approval” auditions for title assignment. It’s a good start to know that they chose your voice and performance.
  • What do you say to those who view listening to audiobooks as “cheating” or as inferior to “real reading”?
    • I feel like I hear that less and less every year. It IS a different experience, I’ll give you that. The narrator IS going to influence how you experience the book… and that’s not always going to be a good thing.
  • What’s next for you?
    • Nick the Writer is 30,000 words into “Zombie Bigfoot” sequel… but first I have to narrate a space opera sci-fi, three short romance double headers, and Wayne Stinnett’s upcoming thriller, “Enduring Charity”!
  • Bonus question: Any funny anecdotes from inside the recording studio?
    • The engineers at Talking Books made a “mix tape”: they collected years of actors laughing uncontrollably, narrating extremely steamy sentences, belching impressively, going on a rant about run on sentences. We had no idea they were saving these snippets and it was HYSTERICAL.
Top 10 List
Nick Sullivan's Top 10 Perks of Being an Author AND Narrator.
  1. Narrators make the best copy editors. I always find typos when narrating, even in big front-list titles from major publishers.
  2. If I find a clunky sentence, I can change it! I always narrate the book before sending it to the formatter. With “Deep Shadow” I ended up with a couple pages of tweaks.
  3. I get to choose characters with the audio in mind. Some accents are my kryptonite. You will find no people from Chicago in my books because I sound like that SNL “Da bearz” sketch.
  4. I get to try out NEW accents. In my first book, Zombie Bigfoot, I wanted an Afrikaner. That accent was tricky but I finally got it locked in and absolutely loved it.
  5. No back and forth during edits… the person who reads is the person who greenlights the project.
  6. I know the emotional intent of particular scenes and can color the performance accordingly.
  7. I know how to pronounce most of what I put in the book ahead of time. While writing the book, I will look up how to say locations as I add them.
  8. I get to submit myself for reviews on two different levels.
  9. It increases my fan base for purchases—those that like my narration… and those that like my writing.
  10. I get to keep ALL the royalties! Mwahahahahaha! Well… “all” of the portion the distribution companies let me have.
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Real Blitz by Author Robin Greene





Robin Greene serves as Professor of English and Writing, and Director of the Writing Center at Methodist University in Fayetteville, NC. She is a past recipient of a cosponsored National Endowment of Arts and North Carolina Arts Council Fellowship in Writing, the Al Cleveland Award for Teaching, the Best Professor of the Year Award, and the McLean Endowed Chair of English




In addition to her university teaching, Greene teaches writing at an annual writing, yoga, and meditation retreat for women in Oaxaca, Mexico. Click on www.oaxacaculture.com to learn more about this retreat



Greene has published four books —two volumes of poetry (Memories of Light and Lateral Drift), a novel (Augustus: Narrative of a Slave Woman) and two editions of Real Birth: Women Share Their Stories. She regularly publishes poems, fiction, and creative nonfiction in literary journals and has about ninety publications to her credit



The Shelf Life of Fire, Greene's new novel, is scheduled for release from Light Messages in April 2019



Greene received an MA in English Literature from Binghamton University and an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Art. With her husband, Greene co-founded Longleaf Press, Methodist University’s literary press www.methodist.edu/longleaf/







Available for readings, writing workshops for pregnant women and new mothers, and for workshops and presentations on creative writing, academic writing, and grammar, Greene can be reached at greene.robin@gmail.com or through her website www.robingreene-writer.com











 ~ Website ~




Intimate and intensely personal, the forty-five first-person narratives contained in Real Birth: Women Share Their Stories offer readers a window into the complex and emotionally exciting experience of childbirth. Women from a full range of socioeconomic backgrounds and circumstances recount the childbirth choices they’ve made and the ways those choices have played themselves out in the real life contexts of their everyday lives.





Readers meet women from all over the country who speak to us directly––no interviewer intrudes, no judgments intrude, and no single method of childbirth is advocated. Instead, these women offer us their candid experiences, presented clearly and unflinchingly. Medically reviewed by physicians Dr. Richard Randolph for the first edition and Dr. Deborah Morris for this second edition, Real Birth offers readers a plethora of correct information as well the kind of real scoop that other books and health care professionals are often reluctant to reveal. The result is a well-grounded book that reaches across the boundaries of childbirth literature.





Real Birth is introduced by Ariel Gore, journalist, editor, writer, and founding editor/publisher of Hip Mama, an Alternative Press Award-winning publication about the culture of motherhood. Also included are an extensive glossary of medical terms, a thoroughly researched selective bibliography, and a list of resources of interest to pregnant women and new moms








Snippet:

PREFACE

The narratives in this collection emerged from interviews with women who had recently given birth. For the first edition, to find those willing to speak candidly about their birthing experiences, I placed an advertisement in a national publication directed at new mothers. I received over two hundred responses, conducted seventy-six interviews, and selected thirty-six stories. For the new stories, I placed a shout-out to new moms on my Facebook page and asked friends and colleagues to do the same. I received many responses and trusted my gut, selecting those women to interview who seemed most enthused about sharing their stories and then winnowing those recorded stories down to the ones that seemed most compelling I have chosen stories of women from a range of socioeconomic circumstances and cultural backgrounds. There are stories from women who are well-off financially and from those who struggle to make ends meet. Some women are young; others are older. There are narratives from white women and from women of color. Some describe a first birth, others a second or third birth. Some women bring a strong religious faith to their stories; others do not. And while not all fifty states are represented, most geographic regions are Nearly all of the women interviewed for this book spoke to me by telephone. There were a few I could meet and interview in person. Nevertheless, each of the interviews began as formal tape-recorded dialogue with a stranger and ended as an intimate conversation with a friend Usually, I sat on the floor in my half-darkened bedroom, listening to the strong voices of these women. I'd have the same list of prepared questions for all my interviews, but more often than not, I didn't ask them. I quickly learned never to fill a silence with a word of my own; the women I interviewed inevitably had a word more poignant, more accurate than any I could offer. When I relaxed and allowed my natural sympathies to guide me, the women I spoke with seemed encouraged toward greater openness, and I was encouraged toward more authentic listening. Later, these conversations were transcribed, condensed to eliminate redundancy, and my own voice as interviewer was edited out. I wanted no intrusions into the stories, no editorial voice to interfere Frequently, the women I interviewed asked that I correct their grammar; they didn't want to "sound bad" and were often afraid that worrying about correct speech would be distracting. And so, in the end, I did correct some grammar, occasionally adding missing words or rearranging paragraphs to forge necessary connections or to include vital information. But I have done my best to stay true to the diction and speech patterns of the women whose stories are included here. Each narrative is prefaced by a brief autobiography, but I've omitted information on race, ethnicity, and religious identity to allow each woman's story to unfold naturally. When race or ethnicity becomes central to the narrative, it enters the narrative; when it is not central, that information remains unstated. Some names, locations, and identifying details have been altered at the request of the interviewees who wished to ensure their anonymity, but I have tried to preserve essential information so that the stories are consistent with each woman's recollections Often, while I was writing the book, curious well-wishers would question me about the veracity of the stories. They'd ask, "How do you know these women are telling the truth?" or "How can you be certain that they're remembering correctly?" My response was always the same. These women speak emotionally and credibly; they recollect details and specifics through the filters of their own psyches-but who doesn't? What we perceive to be true and what we remember as true becomes our truth. Our ongoing sense of reality depends on it The first edition of Real Birth, published in 2000, contained thirty-six birthing stories I had gathered in the 1990s, nearly twenty years ago, so when I agreed to gather a sampling of more recent birthing stories for this second edition, my question quickly became What's changed?

And that question propelled me into a year of listening-this time to a new generation of mothers who agreed to share the details of their intense, often life-changing birthing experiences with me and, through this book, with others For this second edition, I recorded twenty new birthing stories and chose to include an additional nine-a symbolic number. These stories, for the most part, feature hospital births, for today's hospitals offer more progressive care and additional options for the birthing mother. So that's changed. But what else? Well, although women come to their birthing rooms or beds with iPods rather than boom boxes and CDs, attend hyno-birth more frequently than Lamaze classes, and immerse their laboring bodies in birthing pools rather than tubs, their questions are not fundamentally different than those asked two decades ago: Should I have a natural childbirth or use medication? How much medical intervention do I want? Should I birth at home or in a hospital or birthing center? Should I use midwives or doctors? Will I need a C-section? Will my birth plan be honored? Who can I trust? Who will advocate for me? Can I handle the pain? How will my partner respond? How will my life change?

Birth remains a threshold experience, altering our identities, relationships, and responses to the world. Through the lens of motherhood, we see war, terrorism, the economy, the environment, and our marriages, partnerships, and families differently. As stakeholders, our investment in the future becomes irrevocably altered Bringing babies into the world takes enormous effort. And that effort invites self-reflection, which, I'm grateful to report, is much more welcome today than it was fifteen years ago when I first struggled to find a publisher for Real Birth. Back then, after sending out my manuscript to fifty-plus publishers and agents, I'd frequently be asked, quite rudely, "Who wants to read women's birthing stories?" I had one academic press, initially very interested in my book, back out after its marketing department decided that the book didn't fit clearly into any genre and, therefore, was unmarketable. "Who would be your audience?" was the question the editor-in-chief posed in his final rejection letter, thinking his question rhetorical But today a plethora of birthing stories are available on TV, through oral history projects, and on the Internet, and we know there is an audience. Moreover, there's a clear recognition of the value of these stories. As they become part of our herstory, they connect us to one of our most primal human moments and reveal something essential. While the first Real Birth might have been groundbreaking, the second Real Birth is firmly grounded Grounded. I like that. And as I look back at my own motherhood-to my son Dan, now age thirty-two, whose birth first inspired this book, and to Ben, age twenty-five, whose birth motivated me to record the first story for Real Birth-I realize that their births still ground me to the roots of my identity as a woman who did this amazing thing, who birthed babies and brought new life into the world And now that "first new life," my son Dan, and his wife, my daughter-in-law Jen, have their own new life in the world, and their own birth story, as I became a grandmother last year. Full circle? Yes. I am grounded again, as a new generation of my family takes shape. And I'm pleased to include that story here Birth represents renewal, a perspective shift as we move forward through life's stages- from child to adult, to parent, to grandparent, and, if we're lucky, beyond. These stories privilege us with insight, linking us as readers to our own life stories and providing a sense of hope, interconnectedness, and joy

-Robin Greene, 2014












To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page 












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Flowers On The Wall by Mary J. Williams blitz


Flowers On The Wall
Mary J. Williams
(Hart of Rock and Roll, #1)
Publication date: August 31st 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Ryder is the most romantic rocker ever!!!~~Amazon Review
From the bestselling HART OF ROCK AND ROLL series. An epic STANDALONE story about, redemption, love, friendship… and music. Because every great romance needs some HART.
Ryder Hart. Rock God. Brother. Protector. Wounded Soul.
Quinn Abernathy. Photographer. Daughter. Healer of Souls.
Ryder Hart came up the hard way. From his childhood, to scratching his way to the top of the charts. Every moment was a struggle. Now that he’s at the top, nothing will take him down. Not even a secret so dark it invades his dreams and haunts his waking hours.
Quinn Abernathy’s hunger for success is no less than Ryder’s. If she wants to succeed in the highly competitive world of photography, she can’t let anything, or anyone, get in her way. Until Ryder. He makes her long for more than she ever thought possible.
Music is Ryder’s life. There isn’t room for a woman like Quinn Abernathy.

A woman who asks for nothing, but wants it all.
Grab this standalone novel now.
—
EXCERPT:

THE KNOCK ON the dressing room door was firm and decisive. Whoever it was seemed to know what they wanted. He sighed. Pushy or tentative—it seemed someone always wanted something. All he wanted was a hot shower and a few blissfully uninterrupted hours of sleep. He should have gone straight to the hotel instead of collapsing on the sofa. After all these years, he knew better.
He didn’t answer when the pounding got louder. With a sigh, he slung an arm over his eyes and hoped against hope that whoever it was would take the hint and go away.
“Mr. Hart?”
Shit. Hadn’t he locked the door? He heard the doorknob turn. Nope. He definitely hadn’t locked the door.
“Mr. Hart? Ryder? Do you mind if I come in?”
Ryder didn’t bother to look. She had a nice voice. A little husky. But his interest was zero. Neither his brain nor his dick was in the mood.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t fuck groupies. Try two doors down. I hear the opening act isn’t picky.”
“They might not be, but I am. Don’t worry, Mr. Hart, your virtue is safe. I’m not looking for bragging rights. My name is Quinn Abernathy. We have an appointment.”
“I don’t think so, honey.”
“It’s Quinn. Not sweetheart. Not honey. If you can’t remember my name, I occasionally answer to hey, you. But keep the sugary platitudes for your adoring fans.”
Interesting. In spite of himself, Ryder raised his arm enough to get a look at the lady with the acid tongue. Well, shit. He had hoped she would look like somebody’s aunt. Instead, Quinn Abernathy was a knock-out. He felt a stir of interest. But not enough to do more than roll over so his back was to her. It was meant to end the conversation.
“I spoke with your manager, Mr. Hart. He—”
“Jesus H. Christ.” Ryder whipped around. “I don’t give a fuck. My head is pounding. My knee has swollen up to twice its normal size, and I need something to eat besides the crap they put out in my dressing room. Whatever you want, can it wait until morning?”
“Sure.” Concerned, Quinn’s blue eyes lowered. “What happened to your knee?”
“Old war injury.”
It wasn’t far from the truth. Ryder’s entire childhood had been lived in a war zone. He survived because he learned how to avoid the ever-present landmines. One time, when he was ten, he wasn’t fast enough. The result had been a baseball bat to his knee. It had healed. But now and then—like tonight—it flared up.
Ryder didn’t know what the lovely Quinn thought of his explanation. She had a mighty fine poker face.
“I won’t keep you. Get some ice on that knee. And I would recommend a steak. The hotel where you’re staying serves a mean ribeye.”
“How do you know?”
“I had one for dinner.”
“Wait.” All of sudden, Ryder wasn’t as anxious for her to leave. “Are you staying at the St. Regis?”
Quinn nodded.
“What floor?”
Shaking her head, her lips curved. Nice lips tinged with a touch of red gloss. Ryder wondered about the flavor.
“Not yours.” Halfway out the door, Quinn paused. “I’m a photographer, Mr. Hart.” She patted the bag that hung over her shoulder. “Not a groupie.”
“I don’t have sex with groupies.”
“I remember.” Quinn laughed. “I’m not immune, Mr. Hart. And maybe—somewhere down the line—we’ll see what we see. But for the time being, let’s keep this professional.”
“I didn’t proposition you.” Ryder wasn’t used to women setting boundaries. That was his prerogative.
“You were going to.” With that closing shot, Quinn shut the door.
Refusing to let her have the last word, Ryder hurriedly limped across the room.
“Hey, you,” he called out. Quinn was already at the end of the hallway, but she heard him. To his delight, she stopped. Slowly, she turned toward him. In the glow of the harsh fluorescent lighting, Ryder could see that she tried not to smile.
“You bellowed?”
“Why do I need a photographer?”
“Because I’m the best.”
Ryder loved a woman with confidence. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”






Author Bio:
Want to know how to motivate yourself to write a book?

Have your favorite football team lose the Super Bowl.

On the last play.

With an interception.

The next day I was so depressed I tuned out all media. No TV, no internet, no newspapers--nothing. And I started to write. I'm still writing.

As you can see, a little motivation can do wonders.

Football will play a big part in a series of books due out next year. And since I'm writing the ending? No interceptions. Guaranteed.

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Love Me Only by Susan James Pierce & Justice K Chambers blitz


Love Me Only
Justice K Chambers & Susan James Pierce
(Love Me Only Duet, #1)
Publication date: May 7th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
Bridesmaids meets Sleeping with the Enemy.
A haunting past. A specific set of rules. One man determined to break them.
Chase Anniston has a haunting past full of drug abuse and heartbreak, and now as a recovered heroin addict, she’s focused on keeping her life and career on track. The way she does it? She’s formed a set of rules to keep her safe from the two things she deems trouble – men and drugs:
Never give into your cravings.
Never fall in love.
Never date your boss’ clients.
And these rules have kept her out of trouble for years… until Jared came along.
Jared Bryan is a country music star who used to be more notorious for partying and womanizing than his music, and he’s now a client at the PR firm where Chase works. A chance run-in with her at a bachelorette getaway in Vegas leaves him both intrigued and perplexed. Chase is like no other woman he’s met before. She’s beautiful. She’s feisty. And she’s not easily impressed. Chase might be everything he’s ever wanted, but he’s also the last thing she needs. He’s hell bent on winning her over anyway.
Love Me Only is Book One of the Love Me Only Duet, a Romantic Suspense series. Intended for readers 18 and over.
This book may contain substance and domestic abuse triggers for some.
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EXCERPT:

You know the moment you can feel someone standing behind you? Like you can sense their energy? Multiply that by about a thousand, and that’s what this feels like.
I turn to see who’s in my personal space, expecting it to be some drunk idiot, but it’s not.
Holy crap.
It’s a guy who looks exactly like Jared Bryan… the playboy country singer Stella represents – fair skin, eyes so blue they can’t be real. I’ve never met him in person; he’s never come to the Atlanta office. But I’ve seen numerous pictures, and this guy’s dark hair is a little longer than Jared’s. And he seems… taller than I imagined Jared to be. Leaner. Not skinny, but lean in a cut way. In a really tasty way.
He could quite possibly be a hotter version of the singer himself. And apparently he knows it.
He smirks at me as I study him.
I shake my head. Get it together.
“Jared Bryan,” he says, extending his hand for a shake.
I laugh. “Right.” What a douchebag. Going around pretending to be him.
He cocks his gorgeous head. Gives me a ‘you don’t believe me?’ look.
“Okay, Jared,” I say, mocking him, and then shoo him away with my free hand. “Go use this one-man sideshow on someone else.” I’m not buying it. Last I heard, the real Jared was in Nashville working on his latest album. “Like a girl who’s drunk and incredibly desperate.”
He just stands there, still smirking. Like he’s waiting on me to cave.
When I turn back to the railing and scan over the crowd for my friends, I hope he’ll get the hint. But of course he doesn’t.
I take a long sip of my cranberry juice, wishing it had a shot of something strong in it, and suck in a piece of ice.
He moves to stand beside me, abs pressed against the railing. “Full house, huh?” he says.
I ignore him, crunching on the ice.
“Oh my God, look…” a girl says below. “It’s Jared Bryan!”
He waves.
She whips out her phone and takes pictures.
I turn my head away, shielding my face with my hand as much as I can. I don’t want to be seen next to Fake Jared on social media.
Girls flood over to the bouncer to try and get up the stairs.
I’m too amused at this point to be irritated. I can’t help but smile smugly at him. “You’re eating this up, aren’t you?”
He studies me, almost a little too intensely, his smile widening. God, he’s got a killer smile, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make my lady parts melt.
He’s good, I’ll give him that. He’s even wearing Jared’s signature leather jacket.
“I’m not sure how to answer,” he finally says.
“Oh, cut the crap,” I chuckle. “You’re a Jared impersonator looking to get laid.”
He shrugs, looks back over the crowd. “Maybe, maybe not,” he teases.
“Is it safe to look now?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’s stumbled off to the bar. You’re good.”
When I face the crowd again, he says, “Not a drinker?”
I look into my cranberry juice, back to him. “Nope. I prefer to be the sober one. It’s more entertaining.”
As if to prove my point, a guy below attempts to break dance and ends up smacking his head on the floor and passing out. “Like so,” I say, gesturing toward the break-dancer wannabe.
Jared leans against the rail with a small laugh. “Where’s your drink?” I ask. “The real Jared Bryan is a partier, you know.”
He gives me an odd look.
“But you have the playboy part down.”
“Playboy?” he repeats.
“Yeah.” I motion to myself. “Like how you’re trying to pick me up at the moment.”
“You think I’m hitting on you, huh? Maybe I’m just being nice to the lonely sober girl.”
I bark a laugh, but part of me scrambles to think back over this short encounter to see if I misread things.
No. That’s what guys like him are so good at – I’m playing hard to get. Or as far as he knows, I don’t want him to get me at all. And he’s playing it off like I might be conceited to save him from feeling rejected. “I’m sober but I’m not lonely. I’m here with my girlfriends.”
“And where are they?” he asks, almost taunts. Like I’m making them up to not seem like a loser.
Irritation swells inside, and I scan the dancefloor for them. I’ve only known this guy five minutes and I’m not sure if I want to push him over the railing or take him up on a one night stand. Fake Jared would obviously be game.
Truth be known, I’ve thought of Jared several times over the years when I slept with other guys. This might be as close as I’ll ever get to the real thing. At the very least, though, he distracted me from my heroin craving.
“There,” I say, pointing at them a little too eagerly. Why do I feel like I have something to prove to this guy? The three of them are dancing in a circle while holding their drinks, and apparently, Shea had a wardrobe makeover in the bathroom. She unbuttoned her blouse enough to show some cleavage and has tucked the bottom of it up under her bra. A Hildie creation, I have no doubt. But I can’t deny it looks better than before. Who knew Shea had a killer body?
“The blonde, the redhead, and the strawberry blonde?”
“Yep.”
“Why aren’t you down there with them, then?”
I sip my cranberry juice. “Not really my scene.” I say it sharply, hoping he’ll feel the sting of it. This is obviously his scene as well.
“Let me guess,” he says, straightening and rubbing his stubbled jawline. His eyes roam over the tattoos on my arm. Over my little black dress and messy bun. I subtly bend my arms more so he won’t see the injection scars. “Art galleries and poetry readings?”
I shake my head, though the poetry part is pretty accurate. Not that I would tell him.
I smile pointedly and throw his previous answer back in his face, “Maybe, maybe not.
”
He tosses his head back in laughter, and when he looks back at me, there’s a flash of something in his eyes – familiarity. Respect. Intrigue. I’m throwing his game right back at him and he’s not used to it. And though I can see he likes it, I can also tell he’s not sure if he can crack me. He’s like every other egotistical man – how much should he try with me before he gets too far into rejection territory? Am I worth the risk?







Author Bio:
Multiple Award Nominated and Bestselling Author Susan James Pierce has a degree in Marketing Management, works for a Fortune 500 company in Atlanta, Georgia, and devotes her precious, spare time to writing Paranormal, Sci-fi, and Romantic Suspense novels.
Justice K. Chambers is from the suburbs of Atlanta, GA and is a stay at home mother of two. Her passions include reading and writing poetry, and taking care of her farm animals.

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