Kindle Unlimited by Various Authors & Rafflecopter giveaway 4/19/15

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Escape

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Lukas by Carian Cole Cover Reveal 4/19/15

Lukas cover

Cover Reveal2

Title: Lukas (Ashes & Embers Series Book 3)

Author: Carian Cole

Credits:

Front Photography and Model: Joel Hicks

Back Photography: MHPhotography

Model: Marissa Hagood

Cover Design: Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs

Synopsis2

Storm’s younger cousin.

Vandal’s little brother.

You’ve met him in the background.

 

The sweet one.

The nice one.

The one they can all rely on.

 

The good one.

 

He’s a tattoo artist. He plays metal and classical music – on the violin.

 

He’s got a body built for sin.

 

He’s 24.

 

In comes Ivy. She’s a 36 year old single mom who hasn’t dated in 18 years.

All she wanted was a tattoo.

 

She got a helluva lot more

 

Being good has never been so bad.

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Teasers2

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Author Bio2

I have a passion for the bad boys, those covered in tattoos, sexy smirks, ripped jeans, fast cars, motorcycles and of course, the sweet girls that try to tame them and win their hearts. My debut series, Ashes & Embers, follows the lives of rock band members as they find, and sometimes lose, the loves of their lives.

My first novel in the Ashes & Embers series, Storm, was published in September of 2014 and book 2, Vandal, will be published February 2015 with several more of this series planned throughout 2015.

Born and raised a Jersey girl, I now reside in beautiful New Hampshire with my husband and our multitude of furry pets and spend most of my time writing, reading, and vacuuming.

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The Nines by Dakota Madison and Sierra Avalon Book Blitz & Rafflecopter giveaway 4/18/15

The Nines Review Blitz

 

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Book Title: The Nines
Author: Dakota Madison & Sierra Avalon
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: April 12, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book BlurbUSA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison and Sierra Avalon team up to bring readers a new breed of antiheroes…THE NINES.

Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s. It’s what I breathe for. It’s what I’m still living for. I live for the moment when I will literally have his eye for mine. It’s been two years. Two long and difficult years, but my plan is nearly complete. When I’m not in a hospital having doctors try to repair my ravaged body I spend my time on the computer, doing hacking jobs for large corporations and governments who don’t want to get their hands dirty or be associated with a job if things go sideways. But they don’t have any reason to worry. I’m meticulous, so I’ll never get caught. Just one thing stands in my way: The mysterious young woman without a past who desperately wants to be part of my future. I just need to figure out why…

THE NINES is an ongoing romantic suspense series. Each book can be read as a STAND ALONE NOVEL or as PART OF THE SERIES.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: THE NINES is meant for mature readers. The novel contains graphic violence and sexual situations. If an avenger comic book and a romance novel got married and had a child it would be THE NINES.

excerpt

Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s. It’s what I breathe for. It’s what I’m still living for. I live for the moment when I will literally have his eye for mine. It’s been two years. Two long and difficult years, but my plan is nearly complete. When I’m not in a hospital having doctors try to repair my ravaged body I spend my time on the computer, doing hacking jobs for large corporations and governments who don’t want to get their hands dirty, or be associated with a job if things go sideways. But they don’t have any reason to worry. I’m meticulous, so I’ll never get caught.

I have the one thing that most people don’t.

Time.

After I was burned it was difficult for people to look at me and when they did, it was with pity or disgust, often both.

Even my own mother.

I don’t want anyone’s pity. And I have enough disgust towards myself to last five lifetimes.

So I left everything I’ve ever known and started over on my own.

Now I spend my days and nights in the small home I inherited from my aunt when she died. I would never have chosen to live next door to a large state university. It’s often loud and there are young people everywhere. It’s a constant reminder of everything I lost. I don’t feel young anymore. I feel like an old man trapped in a twenty-year-old body. If wisdom is the gift of tragedy I’d rather be ignorant.

I rarely leave home. It’s amazing what you can have delivered to your door these days. When I do need to go outside, it’s always at night and I always wear a mask. Not like the ones kids wear on Halloween. It’s more like the one that the Phantom of the Opera wore, but my mask is black and was specially designed to cover the burn scars on the left side of my face.

My latest job is for an Eastern European mob family. Modern day computer espionage has given a whole new meaning to the term “mob hit.” There’s no blood, no violence, just five million dollars vanished from several off-shore accounts in the blink of an eye. And I get fifteen percent. Not bad for a few weeks’ work.

Is it wrong to steal from criminals? I call it karmic justice. I don’t take jobs that could hurt innocent people. I only wrong people who have wronged others.

I have the luxury of a hefty bank account and very few needs. I don’t need to work another day my entire life and I wouldn’t want for a thing. But I need to keep my mind occupied. So I take hacking jobs that interest me and I take university classes online.

Having online discussions with my virtual classmates gives me the illusion of having friends and a social life. I realize it’s a poor substitute, but it’s the best I can do given my situation.

I try not to dwell on the past. The person I was, Mr. Popularity, the Class President, the Homecoming King, died the day my body burned like a barbeque on the Fourth of July.

My life now is in the shadows. Living with the fringe dwellers on the edge of humanity. I often feel like a man whose body has died, but his mind hasn’t caught up to that fact yet.

When my computer roars I know I have an incoming message. It’s from one of my contacts in China. I get a lot of work from the Chinese. I don’t speak Chinese and don’t have the patience to learn, so I use an intermediary to broker the deals. He gets fifteen percent of every deal he mediates.

I hear the familiar buzz of SKYPE and when I click on the icon Xiang Yuan appears on the screen. He’s young, probably just a few years older than me, but much better dressed. He always wears five hundred dollar suits and I’ve never seen him wear the same one twice.

“I can get you eight hundred thousand,” he says.

I don’t reply right away. I like to play things cool.

He continues. “With your skills this job won’t take more than one week. Who else will pay close to a million for one week’s work?”

“The Russians immediately come to mind,” I reply.

“And they’ll slit your throat if you don’t deliver on time. We have much more patience than that.”

I give a hearty laugh. “You guys are saints. You’d never slit a hacker’s throat. Maybe I should tell that to Jenks. Oh, wait. I can’t. You killed him.”

“Jenks got sloppy. That’s one concern I never have with you. You’re too meticulous.”

I shake my head. “You’re just saying that because you need me to take the job.”

“You’re the best person for the job,” he corrects.

“I’m the only guy you’ve got left.”

“Nine hundred thousand. But that is the final offer. Do we have a deal?”

I nod. “We have a deal.”

“Good. Let me know when the job is completed.”

“Don’t I always?”

Xiang Yuan doesn’t bother with a reply. He simply disappears from the screen.

I don’t need the money, but it’s an easy job that will probably only take a few days’ work. They’re offering close to a million for it. It’s not something I can refuse.

I rise and take a stretch away from my laptop. Sometimes it starts to feel like an appendage and that’s when I know I need a little time away from it. I step into the kitchen and make a fresh pot of coffee. While it’s brewing I glance out my kitchen window. My aunt liked to garden and the backyard is like a small sanctuary. I like to look at the plants and flowers, but I can’t be bothered with the maintenance. I have a gardener who comes by once a week to trim and weed and do whatever else needs to be done to keep it looking nice. I’ve never actually met the man, but I leave a check in an envelope for him under a mat on the back porch.

From my kitchen window I also have a slightly obstructed view of the small street I live on. The fact that it’s Macedonia Boulevard and my name is Alexander is a coincidence that is not lost on me.

The house is one block removed from one of the major thoroughfares the students frequent, so it’s not as noisy as it could be for being so close to campus. I’m still just a few blocks away from some of the dorms and much of the off-campus housing.

I’m surprised to see a beautiful girl, carrying a backpack, stop right next to my house. I have no idea who she is, or why she’s stopped there, but she looks lost.

Her long, dark hair moves slightly in the breeze and when it finally blows away from her face I can see her magnificent brown eyes and perfect pink lips. If my wishes came true and I was finally dead I know I’d be looking at the face of an angel.

I shouldn’t be standing in front of my window in the daylight staring at her. If she turned at just the right angle she could see me, and that wouldn’t be pretty. It would probably traumatize her. I need to move away from the window, but I can’t. I’m completely mesmerized by her.

When she looks at the street sign then looks up and down the block again there’s little doubt in my mind that she’s lost. I want to tell her that she’s just a block from campus. She hasn’t wandered too far afield. But I can’t leave the house, especially not in the daylight. I know as soon as she took one good look at me she’d probably run away screaming before I even had a chance to utter a word.

As she heaves a large sigh my gaze is immediately drawn to her chest. She’s wearing a pale pink sundress that fits like a glove and accentuates all of the lovely curves of her petite body. For a few moments I think about what it would be like to have my hands on her body. To touch her in the most intimate of ways. To run my fingers along her perfect, unblemished skin.

Then I chide myself for even giving in to those thoughts. There’s no use in imagining what I can never have again. Access to a woman’s body is something I lost forever. No woman would ever consider being with someone as damaged and disfigured as I am.

I considered my life over the day that half of my flesh was burned off of my body. The doctors working on me didn’t think I would live. They called it a miracle that I didn’t die. I call it a life sentence with no chance of parole.

I realized pretty quickly that my life had irrevocably changed. What I didn’t really understand until much later was the impact my injuries would have on the other people in my life.

It wasn’t until my high school girlfriend, Sara, was finally allowed to visit me that reality punched me in the face and knocked my teeth out. Sara and I had been together for over a year when it happened. She would have been burned just like me if she didn’t have a doctor’s appointment that morning and arrived late to school.

Her allergy shots kept her from dying in the blaze, or even worse, surviving it like I did.

She told me that she loved me nearly every day we were together. She was supposed to be my soul mate. We were supposed to spend our lives together.

But when she saw me in the hospital for the first time after the school bombing it was like she didn’t know me. When she looked at me all the love vanished from her beautiful brown eyes. It was like she was looking at a complete stranger.

That was the moment I knew my life as I had known it was over. Sara never came back to visit me and I never saw her again.

I spent my senior year of high school being homeschooled because I was in and out of the hospital so much. I’m smart and was always a good student so I finished all of my work early and started taking college classes in January of what was supposed to be my senior year of high school.

I traded in my high school prom and senior graduation parties for a life of worldwide hacking jobs and built my reputation as one of the best in the field of cyber espionage.

For a brief moment I panic because the girl standing outside my house turns to face me and for a second it’s almost like she can see inside of my house and she’s watching me.

But I know it’s not possible. If she really had caught a glimpse of me she would have already backed away in horror, wouldn’t she?

The girl just looks puzzled. Her head is cocked like she’s trying to figure something out. Then I see her walk towards the front of my house.

I hurry out of the kitchen and into the living room. I move the curtains on the front windows the slightest bit so that I can just make out what she’s doing. She’s standing right outside on the front walk way, staring at my front entrance.

What in the world could she possibly want with me?

Then it occurs to me. Maybe it’s not me she wants at all. Maybe she’s one of my aunt’s former students.

She looks down at a small piece of paper in her hands and then looks back up at the house. It’s almost as if she’s trying to decide whether or not she should walk up to the front door and knock.

I’m not sure what I’ll do if she does decide to knock on the door. It’s broad daylight. I only have deliveries come at night, when it’s difficult to see me, and I always leave the lights off, obscuring their view of me even further.

I hold my breath waiting to see what the girl will do. Just when I think she might make her way up to the door she takes off down the road instead.

I breathe a small sigh of relief that I don’t have to deal with her at the door. But in a small way I also feel a twinge of disappointment.

The Nines Teaser Final Banner

Meet the Author

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison and Sierra Avalon team up to bring readers a new breed of antiheroes…THE NINES.

Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s. It’s what I breathe for. It’s what I’m still living for. I live for the moment when I will literally have his eye for mine. It’s been two years. Two long and difficult years, but my plan is nearly complete. When I’m not in a hospital having doctors try to repair my ravaged body I spend my time on the computer, doing hacking jobs for large corporations and governments who don’t want to get their hands dirty or be associated with a job if things go sideways. But they don’t have any reason to worry. I’m meticulous, so I’ll never get caught. Just one thing stands in my way: The mysterious young woman without a past who desperately wants to be part of my future. I just need to figure out why…

THE NINES is an ongoing romantic suspense series. Each book can be read as a STAND ALONE NOVEL or as PART OF THE SERIES.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: THE NINES is meant for mature readers. The novel contains graphic violence and sexual situations. If an avenger comic book and a romance novel got married and had a child it would be THE NINES.

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Playing the Part by Lynn Rae Book Blitz & Rafflecopter giveaway 4/17/15

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Book Title: Playing the Part (Love Around the Corner, Book 3)
Author: Lynn Rae
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 23, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

Independent Melanie Sheraton has to hustle for odd jobs in her small town to eke out a living. When the opportunity to act as a driver for some movie folks comes up, she jumps at the chance to earn an extra paycheck. What she didn’t bank on was one of her passengers invading her imagination, something she resists since no movie star would ever be interested in her.

At a crossroads in his professional life, action star Thomas ‘Wheeler’ Locke is in Ohio for a role he hopes will launch his career in a new, serious direction. Instead of concentrating on his acting, he finds himself growing more and more distracted by his feisty driver and her irascible ways.

Dancing around the attraction growing between them, both Mel and Thomas struggle to maintain their distance as the time for filming grows short. Will a reunion at the movie’s London premiere bring them together, or will their disparate lives keep them apart?

excerpt

She sighed and grumbled and got out of the car. He followed her to the steps at the entrance, skirting a green metal sculpture by Robert Murray, and they made their way inside. The hush and calm of the museum atmosphere settled around him like a hug as he paid their admission and accepted a gallery guide from the attendant.

“You wanted to see the Bellows pieces,” Mel said as she unfolded the guide, obviously determined to continue navigating for him. “They’re upstairs in Gallery G.”

“That’s not all I want to see,” he warned her as she trudged up the broad steps, passing a large and aggressive Lichtenstein. “There’s a Winslow Homer here and a Chihuily.”

“It’s a really nice piece. If you’re interested, there’s lots of Chihuily at the Franklin Park Conservatory,” Mel added and then frowned at some fuzzy photographs at the top of the stairs.

“You like Chihuily?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s just not what I expected.”

“The unexpected is usually surprising.” Mel seemed irritated with him again. “I appreciate art.”

Now that was a pleasant personal detail. “What’s your favorite piece here?”

“It’s hard to say.” Now, she put on a vague air, her eyes unfocused as she stood in front of a soft-looking printed textile. She was probably thinking about Larry and maintaining professional distances again. Too late, he wanted to tell her.

“Tell me about one.”

Sighing as if she was in actual pain, Mel stared at him from under her eyelashes. “That’s really personal.”

“I don’t think Larry would consider discussing art preferences to be improper. Is Larry a passionate art collector? Does he develop instant likes and dislikes of people based on their favorite French Impressionists?”

Mel snorted. “I’m pretty confident Larry has no strong opinions about any sort of Impressionists. I have a feeling that the Pirelli Tire Calendar is as sophisticated as he gets.”

“Don’t knock it, those photographs are great.” The Herb Ritts one was brilliant, but Terry Richardson’s was awful, to be fair.

“They’re lovely. I was trying to imply it wasn’t the photography that he admired.” Mel considered him as she folded and unfolded the gallery guide. “You probably hung out with those models at some fabulous Italian villa, didn’t you?”

“I don’t make enough money for women like that to notice me. I’m sure they are nice women, but they are definitely in a different social stratum. Oil money and inherited titles.”

Crossing her arms, she gave him a balky stare as she tilted her head. Why showing him artwork she liked was too intimate, he wasn’t sure. He wanted to see something she appreciated and then entice her into talking about it with him. Every interchange with her made him more curious, and every little fact he gathered about Mel Sheraton resided in a deep part of his brain.

“You’re going to stand here until I show you, aren’t you?”

He nodded, trying not to let on he was enjoying himself. Thank God he was an actor. “Just walk over and stand next to it. You won’t actually have to tell me anything, just act adoring.”

“Adoring? I don’t think I’ve adored anything in my life.” Mel radiated skepticism as she raised her chin and watched him as if he was going to throw a spitball on board her bus.

“Try it. Live a little,” he coaxed her and hoped he didn’t show how much he enjoyed provoking her.

“I’m walking away now.” Shrugging her shoulders, Mel headed down the marble lined corridor, illumination from the skylights blazing in her twisted bronze hair. She was wearing a skirt today, and her calf muscles flexed very distractingly as she walked. As she made a left into a gallery, he lost sight of her for a moment, and then found her standing in front of a stark Edward Hopper. The barely dressed woman in the painting looked anxious as she sat on her plain bed and stared out the window. Clean lines, clear color, and a sense of tension; it was impressive.

“What’s she thinking about?” Thomas asked quietly, staring at the melancholy woman painted decades before.

“She’s thinking about all the work she has to do that day and hoping that she has the energy to manage it,” was Mel’s equally quiet reply. Thomas stopped studying the art and glanced over at the woman standing there next to him, hardly looking adoring but certainly weary.

“You’re probably right. Let’s keep looking around.” He didn’t want the painting’s sad mood to infect them. Mel glanced over at him.

“Do you want to see another one of my favorites, or am I too much of a downer?”

“I can handle one more. Then we need to see something with some life in it.”

She walked away again, not waiting to see if he followed. Sculptures on plinths watched them go by until she came to a halt in front of a dark canvas covered by vibrant splotches of colored fireworks shimmering down toward their reflections in the water. It was unusual and magical, and he sighed when he saw it.

“Now that’s lively.”

“That’s why I like it,” Mel said, tilting her head as she inspected it. “It makes me think of mysteries. Everything is obscured, uncertain. I think the artist wants us to wonder about how it might be good to go toward the bright light, but it also might be better to stay in the dark. Should we go into the unknown, or is it safer to be still, to avoid challenges and change?”

Thomas thought about that for a moment as he tracked orange and red and pale coral brushstrokes through the gloom. “I want to know what’s hidden. How about you?”

“Me too, even if it’s sometimes a disaster.” They shared a quiet moment of accord.

He hated to break the mood, but if he didn’t, he’d begin to wonder what she had hidden under her clothes, and that would be a disaster. “So you don’t see this and think ‘Oh, cool, fireworks!’?”

“No, I don’t. Should I?”

Thomas shook his head, very entertained by her. “Think what you want. That’s why it’s art and not a math test.”

Mel bobbled her head back and forth as she considered this. “Why are we here looking at art? I have to say if you’d asked me what I thought you’d do on a day off, this never would have crossed my mind.”

A personal question! He was making progress with the self-contained Mel Sheraton. “I minored in fine arts in college. My major was drama.”

She peered at him, and he was again shaken by the light in her serious grey eyes. What was going on in there? Why did she always appear as if there was an elaborate scene playing inside her head? “What did you do? Artwise?”

“Drawing, mostly.”

“Do you do it anymore?”

“When I can.”

Nodding with apparent satisfaction, she turned back to regard her rocket’s red glare painting.

“What did you think I did on my days off?”

“Work out. Go to trendy restaurants with beautiful and fascinating people. Evaluate what your stylist picked out for you to wear. Lie by a pool in the sun with a drink.” He laughed at the images; it seemed he wasn’t the only one who’d had a few preconceived notions. She grinned and turned away from the painting and started to amble through the gallery, pausing in front of a few canvases but not stopping for long at anything in particular.

“The only one of those I do consistently is work out. But I have to for my job and my health, so it’s not really much fun. My trainer is mean to me.”

She turned her mouth down in pretended sympathy but didn’t pull it off. Mel wasn’t really an actress, which was incredibly comforting. He hadn’t realized how nice it was to be around a person with little pretense. Not especially relaxing, since she could suffer an outbreak of irritation at any moment, but still, it was genuine when she was upset. Or happy.

Meet the Author

Lynn Rae makes her home in land-locked central Ohio after time spent in the former Great Black Swamp, beside the Ohio River, and along the Miami and Erie Canal. With professional experience in fields ranging from contract archaeology to librarianship along with making donuts and teaching museum studies, Lynn enjoys incorporating her quirky sense of humor and real-life adventures into her writing (except the naughty bits). She writes sci-fi, contemporary, and historical romances. You can find her posting frequently on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/lynnraewrites or at her webpage http://www.lynnraewrites.com/

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UnderCover Series by Helen NewBury Release Day Blitz 4/17/15

Series Name: Undercover
Genre: New Adult Romantic Suspense
Type: Serial with cliffhangers (all three parts released simultaneously)
Parts in Serial: 3
  • Seduced
  • Conflicted
  • Betrayed
Length: 30,000 words per part (90,000 words total)
Seduced (Undercover #1)
Blurb
I am out of my depth.
Yesterday, I was just a CIA languages geek, safe behind a desk. I thought I wanted a taste of the action.
Then I met him. Luka. Arms dealer. Russian mafia. A man who’ll kill to get what he wants. And he wants me.
Now I’m on a plane to Moscow with orders to “accidentally” run into him again.
Seduce him.
Sleep with him.
I can’t control myself when I’m near him.
And if he finds out who I really am, I’m dead.
Paperback on Amazon:
Goodreads:
Conflicted (Undercover #2)
Blurb
I’ve become the girlfriend to one of the most dangerous men in Russia.
Everyone tells me he’s a monster.
But I’ve glimpsed the man underneath. The one who might just be able to heal my pain.
I try to remember who I am. Where my loyalties lie.
I try to convince myself I’m not falling for him.
Paperback on Amazon:
Betrayed (Undercover #3)
Blurb
I have to choose between saving him and saving us
Everything seemed so simple back in the US. He was the bad guy. I was going to stop him.
Then I saw the evil he does…and the good inside him.
Now they’re asking me to do the unthinkable.
And no matter which side I betray, I’m going to lose him forever.
Paperback on Amazon:
Goodreads:

 

I’m a New Adult Romance author who loves writing about what happens when love and dreams collide with the real world. I wrote my first novel, Dance for Me, in daily chunks in a very busy, very noisy coffee shop, which meant I had to order a black Americano every hour, on the hour, to keep my seat and wound up wired on caffeine most days. I hit the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists in summer 2013. Unlike my characters, I can’t dance.
Before Undercover, I wrote the Fenbrook Academy series of New Adult romances: Dance For Me, In Harmony and Acting Brave.
 
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Teaser (from “Seduced”)
There are some moments you know you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. I know this, because one in particular has burrowed so deep into my soul that it’s never coming out. I remember the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as the car fell. It was my life, dropping out from under me. The feeling that nothing is ever going to be alright again.
This was the same and yet different. That was an ending; this was something beginning.
I’d stepped away from the bed and towards the door. That single step probably saved my life. If I’d still had my hand on the laptop, he’d have known for sure I was a spy and I would have been carried out of that room in a bloody, plastic-wrapped bundle.
I saw shock on his face and then, just for a split second, another look, one I couldn’t even process, right then—I filed it away for later. Then anger, and a quick glance at the laptop.
Some instinct made me keep my eyes on him. If I’d looked at the laptop, my fate would have been sealed. But I just stood there, mouth open, as he closed the distance between us.
One huge hand slammed into my chest, the palm right on the valley of my upper breasts. He pushed me back against the door, the hard wood jarring me painfully. He kept coming, stopping when his face was inches from mine. The whole world narrowed down to the throbbing heat of his hand against my skin and those burning, ice-fire eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” he demanded.
We stared at each other as I took panic breaths through my nose, my lips a tight line of fear. His hand, pinning me to the door, might as well have been made of warm iron. He had me so firmly that I couldn’t even wriggle to the side. And despite my mounting panic, I was aware of the side of his thumb and the side of his pinky finger as they framed the tops of my breasts. Every breath made the soft flesh push and swell around them and a black, twisting energy shoot straight down to my groin. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
In my earpiece, I could hear panicked whispers as Adam, Roberta and the others tried to figure out what to do. Burst in and rescue me? Wait and see how it played out?
His words were replaying over and over in my head. It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak in English. His accent was heavy, softening some syllables and making others granite-hard. His fffuck was like a slow penetration followed by a jerk of the hips.
What the hell is wrong with me?! I wondered again. I had to answer him, had to think of some way out of this, but my mind was stuck on endless loop, replaying his words. Any second now, he was going to snap and just kill me.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I squeezed my eyes shut to try to break the loop and saw that image of him as he’d come out of the bathroom. The shock on his face, flicking momentarily to another look.
Pleasure.
Just for a fraction of a second, the ghost of a smile had touched his lips. Not the fake smile he’d given the women downstairs. A smile that actually reached those cold eyes, thawing them a little. It had been gone in an instant, but it had been there. He’d been pleased to see me.
The implications of it were still detonating like fireworks in my chest when I opened my eyes and said, “I was looking for you.”
He went utterly silent. His eyes flicked over my face, fast and brutally efficient, searching for any trace of a lie.
He didn’t find one because, on some level, I think I was telling the truth.
He inched his head back from me, but he didn’t release me. He was getting a better look at me, I realized. He’d been entirely focused on my face, but now his eyes swept down over my chest, my hips, my legs. Something like a hot shudder went through me and I felt a flush rise in my cheeks. That feeling I’d had downstairs was back, that sense of being locked onto each other like magnets, close enough now that I twisted and turned to mimic his movements.
As he looked at me, I looked at him. He was nearly a head taller even with me in my heels, and his frame blocked out almost all of the light from behind him. With the black suit, he looked like he was made of shadow except for those blazing blue eyes. But it wasn’t his size so much as the solidity of him, the realness. Next to him, I felt like a faded, worn-thin copy of a person.
And the weirdest part was, as I stood there pinned against the door, I could feel the energy of him flowing into me, reawakening me. After years spent frozen and slowly dying, I finally felt alive again.
He took a long, slow breath and leaned in closer to me again. He was wearing some cologne I didn’t recognize, something complex and elegant and somehow old-fashioned. He moved his mouth close to my ear. Then he spoke, and each word was like a savage little kiss. “You shouldn’t come looking for monsters. Men like me will eat you alive.”
And then he drew back to see my reaction.
I didn’t know how I was going to react either. I was operating on a whole different level, now, something deep inside me directing things. I was just along for the ride.
I took a shaky breath and whispered, “I’m not scared of you.”
He stared deep into my eyes, appraising me, and said, “Yes you are.”
And a deep, hot oil slick seemed to sluice through me, more complex than fear, more complex than lust.
His free hand closed on my leg, just beneath the hem of my dress. His palm cupped my flesh through the nylon, his heat throbbing into me. And he stared at me, demanding an answer.
I swallowed and stared back, and the message my eyes sent was…“Continue.”
His hand rose, rasping along the dark nylon, my breathing ratcheting higher and higher with each inch. His fingers slid over my thigh…then my upper thigh. Each square millimeter he touched burned as if it was on fire, the energy crackling inward and up towards my groin. The dress was coming up along with his hand, gathering on his wrist. And then he touched the naked skin above my stocking and I realized I was panting.
He stared straight into my eyes as his fingers reached my panties. His fingertips toyed with the waistband for a second…and then continued. He moved inward, now, hoisting my dress up further with an impatient jerk of his wrist. His hand slid over my stomach and up to my chest and—
He cupped my breast, his hand weighing it in my bra. His palm throbbed warmth through the thin fabric, straight into my soft flesh. Then he squeezed—a long, lingering squeeze, and pleasure erupted in my chest and roared out to every corner of me. I tried to go up on my tiptoes, to twist, to thrash in response, but his other hand still had me pinned. I had to just stay there and take it.
I’d never been more turned on.
And then I heard a noise in my earpiece, a soft intake of breath. They’re listening to this!
And my mouth said, “I have to go,” even as my body demanded that I stay right where I was.
Luka had his eyes half-closed. He just remained there, studying me for another few seconds. He gave my breast one last, unexpected squeeze and I gasped as it sent a ripple of heat through me. Then he released me and my dress fell back into place.
Operating on autopilot, I grabbed my violin case and opened the door. I’d taken two steps out into the hallway before I remembered the bodyguard on the stairs. He turned at the sound of the door opening and his jaw dropped. He reached under his jacket—maybe for a radio, maybe for a gun.
But then I heard Luka emerge behind me, and whatever nod or gesture he made to his bodyguard made the man step back immediately and clear a path for me. I didn’t turn around. I just hurried down the stairs, violin banging against my hip, threw the front door wide and headed straight for the cherry-red SUV. Adam was already inside and waiting and I could see the concern in his eyes. But he faked a fatherly smile and opened the door for me. I quickly climbed inside.
We roared away and the last image I had of the house, in the rear view mirror, was Luka in the doorway, thoughtfully watching me go.

Caged by Madison Collins Release Blitz 4/16/15

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Rising stars in the cage fighting circuit, Cage and Tripp Garrett are as close as two brothers can be. Fiercely competitive and smoldering with intensity, neither has ever lost a fight. Until they face their toughest opponent yet: Lily.

They both want her. But neither can have her. Lily is as off-limits as they come. They make a pact that the tough-as-nails daughter of their trainer will never come between them.

Until one of them begins to fall in love. Then all is fair in love and war.

Caged is a sexy, fast-paced love story with a punch.

Warning: Contains adult language and sexual content.

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I toss my arms above my head and rock my hips to the movement. Warm hands wrap around my waist. I smile and look over my shoulder. It’s Tripp. He starts to grind with me, and I shake my ass against his pelvis. I can feel the hard erection in his pants and it sends a shiver up my spine. He’s huge, and I already know how ripped he is from all the time he spends shirtless at the gym. I’ll never be able to get these panties clean again.

Cage slides into the space in front of me. My throat tightens and I lose my breath. I’m in the middle of a hot man sandwich. Cage’s hands skim over my sides and come to rest at my lower back, a fraction away from my ass. He’s so tall, I feel tiny and I have to crane my neck just to look up at him. Dark, hungry eyes are reflected back down at me. He’s still giving off that intense vibe, but at least he’s here with me. I wouldn’t want to dance with just Tripp.

Tripp continues grinding behind me, and Cage grips my hips from the font. I’ve never danced with two guys at once like this before. My breasts press against the hard planes of Cage’s chest. He must be able to feel how hard my nipples are, just like I can feel the hot, heavy erections both men are sporting. It makes me want things I know I can’t have.

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Madison Collins, born and raised in NYC, writes naughty, smutty books because that’s exactly the types of books she enjoy reading herself. Her debut romance, CAGED, about two hot, MMA-fighting brothers, releases April 16th.

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Seeking Clarity By Christa Lynn Blog Tour 4/15/15

 Seeking Clarity

Christa Lynn

Blog Tour!

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synopsis

Clarity Laughlin grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth and everything handed to her on a silver platter. But her silver life is tarnished from living in her father’s shadow and under his thumb. One night she realizes she’s had enough, and decides to make a change.

She leaves her glamorous life behind and starts over, alone and determined. When gorgeous auto mechanic Mason Kennedy helps the damsel in distress, Clarity’s life starts to have real meaning. A new love blooms and her dream starts to become reality, until tragedy strikes and her newfound gold starts to fade. But is the dream fading? Or just tainted with lies and deception? What happens when Pandora’s Box is opened and Mason’s skeletons come floating out?

Money, greed, jealousy and love can be a deadly combination.

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excerpt

So, I decide to change the way I live. I’ve dreamed of finding Mr. Right, getting married and settling down. But guys run for the hills when they find out who I am, or they only want me for my money. I can’t deal with this anymore. I’ve had a great life though, again…..never wanting for anything. There has to be so much more to this world than having everything handed to you on the proverbial silver spoon.

As I mentally prepare for the changes upcoming in my life, Holland walks right into my room without knocking. “Clare? What are you doing in here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’ve been right here, thinking.”

“What about?” She asks as she sits down on the bed next to me.

“Life in general.”

She nods, staring at our faces in the mirror.

“Yeah, it’s great it?” She smiles as she lays back on the bed, her lavender skirt hiking up on her legs, exposing thigh high stockings. I stare for a brief moment, wondering why she’d have on thigh highs, but then I remember the Mabry twins and it all makes sense.

“No, actually it isn’t,” I say as I stand up and brush my hands down my skirt in a feeble attempt to straighten the now wrinkled chiffon.

Holland sits up and stares at me in confusion.

“Is this all there is?” I ask as I wave my hand like a model at a car show.

“What do you mean?” She asks, one eyebrow raised.

“This! All of this!” I say as I twirl like a ballerina. “There has to be more in life than this.”

“I’m sorry Clarity, but I’m not getting it.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” I say again as I glance around the room. “I want to be a normal person, Hol. I want to settle down, get married. Squeeze out a few rug rats, have a normal life. I wanna be like everyone else.”

“Okay, you’re freaking me out. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You really don’t get it do you?” I say as I storm out of the room, but she catches the door and follows me out.

“Clare, stop! Explain it to me. What are you talking about?” She asks again.

I stop and slowly turn back to her. She’s standing there with her hands on her hips.

“These!” I scream, as I pull my designer shoes off and throw them down the hall. I walk into the hall bathroom and wet a wash cloth and proceed to wash my face. “This!” I scream once again as I frantically wash my make up off. Then I stomp back into my room and open the dresser, yanking out a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, silently thankful that I keep spare clothes here for these weekends. It’s bad enough that I have to ride here via limo, but having to go home the next day in the same dress is mortifying. I realize how that sounds as I turn my back towards Holland.

“Unzip me please.” I ask, quietly but demanding.

“What are you doing?” She asks again, this time fear in her eyes.

“I’m changing clothes, what does it look like I’m doing?” I snap at her. I know this isn’t her fault, but she should be seeing this the way I am. She’s wealthy too, though not as wealthy as I am. I cringe on the inside as I think those words.

“But there’s a party going on outside.” She says as she complies and lowers my zipper.

The dress slides down my body into a puddle on the floor. I yank on the tee shirt and jeans and find my loafers in the closet.

“I. Am. Done. Done with this life, done with being a selfish bitch and done with money. I’m getting out, Holland. O U T! I want to live a different life, one with meaning. One without rules, standards and etiquette. I wanna be a woman, not a pawn in daddy’s world. I want to make my own money, live my own life. And this,” I say as I once again wave my hand around my old bedroom, “Ends today.”

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about the author

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I am married and have a teenage son. I live in the Atlanta, GA area and I enjoy reading and writing. My first published novel, Running from Destiny, released in October of 2013. The sequel, Accepting Destiny just released in January 2014. Reprisal, which is a Dark Erotic thriller released in May of 2014. A companion novel, Requital released in December of 2014 and Seeking Clarity is scheduled for April 10th release.