Thursday, September 21, 2017

Out Now—Fast Lust by Lucy Felthouse @cw1985 #badboy #biker #sexy #romance


Out Now—Fast Lust by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #badboy #biker #sexy #romance
Blurb:
When a straitlaced journalist and a fearless motorcycle racer are thrown into an interview together, will they find any common ground? Or are they destined to clash?
Gloria Heath loves her job as a lifestyle journalist. She also loves the perks—free meals, complimentary spa treatments, behind-the-scenes access and more. So when her boss sends her on an assignment to the British Superbikes tournament at Donington Park, she’s less than impressed. Sports are definitely not her thing, and her brief is to find a rider with an interesting back story and write about their journey. But how is she supposed to do that when she really doesn’t care one way or the other?
When she experiences the atmosphere and the racing, however, she starts to see the attraction. Soon after, she finds the perfect case study for her article. Rafe Donovan is fearless, ambitious, and the underdog of the tournament. He’s also drop dead gorgeous. She eagerly sets out to interview him, but soon discovers the bad boy biker is a tough nut to crack. The more she asks questions, the more he shuts down. Throw some chemistry into the mix and things go from bad to worse. Can she get the material she needs, or is her first foray into sports writing doomed to fail?
Note: Fast Lust was previously published in the British Bad Boys Boxed Set.
Buy links:
Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/fastlust
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2x4spOs
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2wA3NKh
*****
Excerpt:
Gloria Heath gaped at her boss, Graeme, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. No, no, she couldn’t have heard him correctly, because she thought he’d said he wanted her to go and cover the first round of the British Superbikes at Donington Park. She shook her head and chuckled. He must have said The Great British Bake Off. That sounded similar, didn’t it?
Graeme frowned. “Something funny, Gloria?”
She snapped her focus back to her editor and smiled. “Sorry. I must be going deaf, or mad, because I thought you said you wanted me to cover some motorbike race.”
His expression was stony. “I did,” he replied coolly. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Blinking, she opened her mouth, then closed it again. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “But I’m a lifestyle reporter. I cover—”
“I’m well aware of what you cover, Gloria. I’ve been your boss for three years—don’t you think I’m familiar with what you write by now?” He sighed. “I know it’s not your usual thing, and is way out of your comfort zone, but don’t you think a change would be nice? A bit of a challenge for you?”
Gulping, she replied, “A ch-challenge? Graeme… did I do something wrong?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s an article, Gloria, not a bloody punishment. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Your work is exemplary—always has been, and I’m sure it always will be. But I have one of the sports writers off sick, with no one else available to take his place, and not covering the first round of the British Superbikes is tantamount to blasphemy for our motorsport readers.”
A feeling of dread settled in her stomach, making her nauseous. “Do I… have a choice?”
Graeme raised his eyebrows. “I’m an editor, not a dictator. But come on, Gloria, do me a favour here. Like I said, there’s no one else to take his place—you’re the only one with time in your schedule. If I’m not mistaken, the stuff you’re currently working on isn’t time-sensitive. Sunday’s race, however, is.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, then flashed her a smile. “We’ll even put you up in a nice hotel, right near to the track. One little article, Gloria. You’ll be saving my life. Please.”
Gloria knew when she was beaten. Graeme wouldn’t force her, she knew that, but it was clearly very important to him. And he’d never asked her to do something like this before—he was generally very laid back, and let her get on with writing pretty much whatever she wanted to. So one article out of her comfort zone—albeit way out of her comfort zone—was the least she could do. “All right,” she said resignedly. “I’ll do it, for you. But you have to give me a full briefing on what exactly you’re looking for. The last thing I want is to end up writing something where I’ve taken completely the wrong angle.
“And,” she added, “where the hell is Donington Park, anyway?”
Graeme’s expression turned despairing. “In the Midlands, Gloria. Near Derby and Nottingham. North of Watford Gap.”
“Bloody hell, that’s miles away! Have I got to drive? I’ll need a pool car.”
“Drive, get the train, hell, you can even fly. The circuit’s next door to a bloody airport. I don’t care, as long as you go, all right?”
She folded her arms. “The train will be fine. Though a first class ticket wouldn’t go amiss.”
Graeme rolled his eyes. “Done.”
“And about the briefing…”
“Of course! I wouldn’t send you in there unprepared. Right, you go and carry on with whatever you were doing while I get all the arrangements sorted. Come and see me when you get here tomorrow morning, and we’ll go through everything you need to know.” She nodded and stood up, then turned to leave. “Oh, and Gloria?” She turned back. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, boss. Just don’t make a habit of it, all right?” She winked to show she was joking.
Grinning, he waved a hand at her. “Go on, get out. I’ll see you in the morning.”
*****
Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter


Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Hot teaser from new release #MC #romance @ravennatate @evernightpub Can Gorgon save the only woman he’s ever loved?



GORGON'S VENGEANCE Demons On Wheels MC 2 ***Click HERE to purchase directly from Evernight Publishing***


 Chloe Dolan’s life is perfect. She’s the MC President’s old lady, she loves to dance at Scotty’s Place—the strip club the MC owns and operates, and she and Gorgon are deeply in love. But Chloe’s perfect life falls apart one night after her last set when she spots her abusive ex-boyfriend, Brad, in the crowd. He’s been gone a year, but now it appears he’s back to stay. As Gorgon and the MC Brothers deal with the fallout from a turf war, they have their hands full from the Outlaw Dogs MC. In the meantime, Brad is stalking Chloe. He’s sending notes to the club, and every time Chloe goes into town, she spots him. Eventually, Chloe is reduced to hiding inside the club. When the power goes out during a tornado warning, Brad breaks into the club. Can Gorgon save the only woman he’s ever loved? 

  EXCERPT 

 Chloe never ceased to be amazed that she could become so aroused, so quickly, whenever Gorgon was near her. All he had to do was look into her eyes, or call her “Chloe” instead of her stage name. His dark eyes bored into hers, filled with lust and love. Chloe licked her lips and brushed one hand down his back, over his ass, and around the front of his jeans to massage his bulge through the fabric. “I don’t want to think about scary things anymore tonight.” Gorgon grunted, cupped her face, and bent his head for a rough kiss. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, chasing away the demons in her mind. Gone were the horrible memories of what Brad had put her through, and the shock of seeing him tonight. Instead, Chloe let go and welcomed the heady sensation of being taken by the man she loved. He moved his mouth to her neck, planting tiny bites there. “Get your clothes off, baby. I need to fuck you now.” Chloe peeled off her tank top and shorts, tossing them across the room. He grasped her breasts and squeezed them together in his strong hands. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” It had taken her weeks after arriving here to stop trembling in his presence. His dark hair, so soft to the touch, hung down to his shoulders when he didn’t have it tied back. The hairstyle gave him an unruly, lawless appearance that had both excited and frightened her at first. “I’m gonna explode, baby. On your knees. Take out my dick.” Her pussy was soaking wet. She loved it when Gorgon spoke to her this way, because she knew how much he loved her. It wasn’t rude or abusive in her mind. This was just his way. He’d lie down in front of a train for her. When he commanded her like this, it turned her on something fierce because there was love and devotion behind it, not fear or oppression. Chloe dropped to her knees and rubbed her chin over his bulge, teasing him. He grabbed her hair and tugged, hard. “Chloe, dammit … I’m fucking dying here.” She undid the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper. He never wore underwear, so she took care not to catch anything as she eased the jeans down his rock-hard thighs. His cock was red, swollen, and already slick with pre-cum. “You’ve missed me, Billy, haven’t you?” “Baby, I always miss you. Suck me hard. Swallow my cum.” Chloe slid her tongue up and down the shaft, enjoying the contrast between the veins and the satiny skin. Gorgon moaned loudly, tugging on her hair to move her closer. “Come on, baby. Don’t tease me. You know what I want.” She knew, but the power it gave her to hold back was as much of a rush as the actual act. Chloe licked his balls before swirling her tongue over his shaft again. When she finally took him into her mouth, he groaned loudly and pushed his dick all the way inside. After relaxing her throat muscles, she curled her lips around her teeth and let him fuck her with the entire length. Chloe massaged his balls with one hand and teased the soft skin between his sac and upper thighs with the other. She always gave her man what he liked. Her hair hurt from him pulling on it so hard, and her mouth was sore, but she didn’t mind. This domination was what she loved. Because when it was over, he’d hold her all night and caress her skin, telling her over and over how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her. Things he’d never say unless they were alone. Words he spoke only to her, intimacies shared only between them.

Monday, September 18, 2017

Val and Pals #chicklit series .99 cent specials Margaret Lashley #giveaway tour stop

VAL & PALS series
by Margaret Lashley

Genre: Humor/Women's Fiction/Chick Lit

The first 2 books will be specially discounted to 99 cents on Sept 19th.

Absolute Zero: Misadventures From A Broad

A Midlife Meltdown...with a Side of Fries.

Val’s long-suffering life as a patient daughter, dutiful wife and reliable workhorse has turned her into a snarky, miserable nag.
She has the house, the husband and the career. The only thing missing is the happy.

Before she’s set out to pasture, Val wants one more go around the track. Unbridled. In Italy.

La dolce vita or bust. 

Will Val find her happy ending abroad? Or someplace she never thought to look? And will she get there before her money and her sense of humor run out...

If you've ever dreamed of ditching your life and running off to Europe, now’s your chance! Join Val on a roller-coaster ride through Europe that will leave you gasping! From gut-busting hilarity to gut–wrenching gaffs, finding yourself again is always worth the price of admission. Buy it now!


The plane came to a halt. A mechanical bell binged. I looked around nervously. I slung my purse across my shoulder and sardined myself into the line of passengers inching their way down the narrow aisle. When I reached the plane’s exit door, I paused hesitantly, like a convict who’d gotten free of her cuffs without anybody noticing. My mind swirled with excitement and abject terror. Goosebumps rushed across my body. The hair at the base of my neck pricked up like a scaredy-cat.

What the hell was I doing? 

Mere days before, I’d slammed every single door – including the screen one – on my life back in Florida. The last chance to change my mind had come and gone, as unheeded as a speed limit sign at a NASCAR rally. Every safety net I’d ever known was thousands of miles away, across the Atlantic Ocean, out of sight and out of reach.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, then stepped off the plane into the complete unknown. I glanced back and waved goodbye to the Air Italia flight crew. I turned again and meandered down the gangplank behind a frail, elderly couple holding hands. Their long-standing marriage triggered flashbacks of my own, long-suffering one.

Seven weeks ago, I’d signed the final divorce papers ending fifteen years of matrimony to Jimmy Johnson, a man I no longer knew. I envisioned the beautiful house Jimmy and I had shared together. I’d sold it and my advertising business just days before the flight. After splitting the pot with Jimmy, I’d netted a hot-damn jackpot of $473,000. I pictured my best friend, Clarice Whittle. I’d left my Ford in her garage, along with a few boxes that held the final remains of the cranky, resentful woman I hoped this trip would get rid of for good.

I’d brought next to nothing with me. I’d left even less behind. No kids. No pets. No job. No husband. No responsibilities. No nothing.

I’d spend the last forty-one years in perpetual motion – Val Jolly’s non-stop stint as dutiful daughter, long-suffering wife and brown-nosing business woman. I’d catered to everyone else’s needs for as long as I could remember. Somewhere along the way I’d turned into a crabby, shrill woman that even I didn’t like. I’d forgotten who I was and what I wanted. This trip was going be my R&R&R – relaxation, romance and re-invention.

I was in Italy to try my hand at living irresponsibly, like my trampy cousin Tammy Jeter. She’d always done as she damn well pleased. Up ‘til now, I’d thought she’d been selfish. Especially when she left Whitey Large and their five pit-bulls (One with puppies!) to run off with Tater Johnson. Turns out, that girl had had it right all along.



Available for only 99cents Sept 15-19


Glad One: Starting Over is a ...!

How Many Do-Overs Do You Get in One Lifetime?

One crazy old lady. Two gin & tonics. Three wacko beach-bum friends. Will Val's fourth stab at starting over add up to a big fat zero?

Val's down, but don't count her out just yet. Broke, but not broken (just seriously cracked), Val Fremden returns to her hometown of St. Petersburg, Florida to find everything she knew squashed under the heels of change.

With nothing left to go on but her own dry sense of humor and the life coach advice of a beer-guzzling old lady she meets at the beach, can her life get any crazier? Just wait.

Glad One is a satirical look at divorce, single-hood and climbing back up the social ladder. It's told through the eyes of a snarky, reluctant, midlife-crisis survivor who lost everything -- but regained herself.

Is there a light at the end of the tunnel for Val? Or is that just the headlamp of another train wreck heading her way? Knowing Val, it's probably both.

If you like wacky, deeply flawed characters and laugh-out-loud situations, you’ll love Glad One! It’s the second book in Margaret Lashley’s hilarious, irreverent Val & Pals Series of seriously funny women's fiction.


A puff of jaded air forced its way between my pursed lips like steam from a relief valve. I needed a good cry. But this was not the time or place for it. To distract myself, I started counting my blessings.

One decimated pocketbook. Two cottage-cheese thighs. Three maladjusted ex-husbands.... Crap! 

Whoever was running the show up there had a wicked sense of humor – and I was getting damn tired of being the punchline. I scrounged around for my powder compact and opened it, intent on repairing my makeup after the nine-hour flight. One glance in the mirror at my worn-out face made me snap it shut. Why bother? 

In forty-five years, I’d accumulated a good portion of wrinkles, a fair amount of belly fat, and, apparently, precious little wisdom. These questionable assets, along with $5,726 and a suitcase full of inappropriate clothes, were all I had left to launch my latest life makeover. I slumped back into my seat. I was bone-dragging tired. Even so, a wry grin snuck across my lips like a stolen kiss from a stranger. I was not defeated. Not yet, anyway.

The way I saw it, I still had two viable options. One, I could finally learn to laugh at myself. Or two, I could drink myself into oblivion. I fished around the bottom of my purse for a coin to determine my fate. I flipped a tarnished nickel into the air with my thumb. It did a triple gainer, plunged into my coffee, and splashed a nasty brown stain on the crotch of my white stretch pants.
Awesome. Let the festivities begin.

***

My last life makeover had begun over seven years ago, and had turned out to be a spectacular, downward spiral reminiscent of diving off a cliff with a bowling ball in my pants. Drowning in dullness and fueled by movie-inspired stupidity, I’d ditched a tiresome marriage and lucrative writing career, sold all my belongings and took off for Europe. In Italy, I met a German and fell in love with the idea of life with a stranger in a strange land. Things had been great for a while. But then the shiny wore off and the cracks showed up, like they always did.

On my arrival back in St. Petersburg, Florida, I’d discovered that seven wasn’t such a lucky number. In fact, seven years abroad had been just exactly long enough for my entire credit history to be erased – just like most of my money. I’d gotten off that plane with no driver’s license. No place to live. No credit card. No phone. No resume. And, worst of all, no friends. Incredibly, I’d somehow managed to become a foreigner in my own homeland.

As a lifelong lover of irony, I’d had to smile at my own ingenuity. How many other people on the planet could have claimed such a monumental fuck-up?



Available for only 99cents Sept 19-22


Two Crazy: Fickle Finger of Fate

The World is not a Safe Place for Figurines. 

When you’re pushing 50 with an industrial bulldozer, birthdays can be a bitch. What was intended as a gag gift for Val ends up making her gag all right – and lands her in a whole heap of trouble with the law.

With one hot cop on her tail and a mean one on her trail, Val turns to old friends and new ones to help prove she’s not into human dismemberment.

Who’s the good cop? Who’s the bad? And who’s the dwarf in the Halloween mask?

Will a pair of falsies help Val stumble onto the truth? If not, she’s got to rely on her wacky, beach-bum friends if she’s going to escape the fickle finger of fate.

Two Crazy is a satirical look at how life seems to take pleasure in screwing up all of our well-laid plans. It’s told through the eyes of a snarky, middle-aged woman with major trust issues and dubious, yet highly original coping skills.

If you like deeply flawed characters and laugh-out-loud situations, you’ll love Absolute Zero. It’s the third book in Margaret Lashley’s hilarious, irreverent Val & Pals Series of seriously funny women's fiction.


I woke the morning after my birthday party with a cop in my bed and a dead body in the kitchen. Okay, it was just a roach carcass. But I swear it was big enough to draw a chalk line around. It was legs-up in the middle of the floor. I’d fumbled, bleary-eyed, toward the cappuccino machine in nothing but Tom’s t-shirt, and had managed, of course, to step right on it. The disgusting crunch of its carapace underfoot made me scream like a little girl.

“Aaahhhh!”

As a native of the Sunshine State, I’d grown up learning to deal with the worst that Florida’s flora and fauna had to throw at me. Poison ivy. Cabbage-palm spikes. Daddy long-leg spiders. Fire ants. Kamikaze tree frogs. Ghoulish house geckos. Deadly rattlesnakes and cottonmouths. Even the occasional gator on the road or in a swimming pool. I’d managed to make my peace with all of them – except one.

Let a roach get anywhere near me – especially a flying one – and my bravado disappeared faster than Oreos at a Weight Watcher’s convention. When I’d stepped on that nasty bug, I’d let out a scream that could be heard on the International Space Station. If that marked me as a sissy, so be it. But there was something abhorrently primeval about a creature that could live for months without its own head.

“What’s going on in there!?”

Tom dashed into the room. He was naked except for his state-issued revolver. The sight of his tan, muscular body almost made me forget about my predicament. Almost.

“A roach,” I grimaced. I held up my foot like it needed stitches.

Tom grinned at me and shook his head.

“There appears to be no permanent damage. What happened to my fearless partner? Valliant Stranger?”

“Hey. Roaches are my kryptonite, okay?”

“Duly noted. I thought you put out some traps. Roach Motels, right?”

I took a paper towel off the roll and ran it under the tap. I bit my lip in disgust and wiped my foot. 
“Yeah, I did. I guess there was no room left at the inn.”

Tom sniggered. “Don’t those things come with ‘No Vacancy’ signs?”

“Very funny, Mr. Morning Sunshine. Can we please change the subject now?”

“Okay.”

A dirty grin crept across his face. Tom sidled up to me and put his hands on my hips.

“Have you got a vacancy that I can fill?”

I knocked his hands off of me.

“Geeze, Tom. I think that may go down in history as the most disgusting foreplay line ever.”

Tom scooped me up into his arms. His naughty grin deepened his dimples and crinkled the corners of his hypnotic, green eyes.

“Okay, how about this? I’ve got a gun, lady. Better do what I say.”

Both my hormones and my imagination went haywire.

“Now that’s something I can work with.”






Three Dumb: Wheelin' & Dealin'

Baloney and Cheesed.

They say three’s the charm. But charming isn’t Val’s style.

Val Fremden is a lot of things. Quirky. Jaded. Disaster prone. But more than anything, she’s afraid of commitment.

When boyfriend Tom tells her he loves her – then trades away her mom’s ashes for a tiki hut – Val’s just not feelin’ it.

On the warpath with Tom, Val’s forced to rely on her oddball friends to help track down her mom’s cremains. But three botched stakeouts and two disasters later, she still hasn't got peanuts. Through trial (but mostly error), Val discovers it's not easy to outwit a mobile master of disguise when she's stuck driving a paddy wagon full of nutcases.

She loves Tom...she loves him not. Knowing Val, she’s gonna need a bigger flower….

Three Dumb is a satirical look at how life, over time, changes our perception of love and the things we value. It’s told through the eyes of a snarky, middle-aged woman with legendary commitment issues and a gnawing reluctance toward romance.

If you like deeply flawed characters and laugh-out-loud situations, you’ll love Three Dumb. It’s the fourth book in Margaret Lashley’s hilarious, irreverent Val & Pals Series of seriously funny women’s fiction.


I’d spent Sunday evening alone, cooling down slowly, like the nuclear reactor at Chernobyl. I’d avoided a critical meltdown, and when I woke up Monday morning, I’d found myself on the verge of no longer being a lethal danger to other life forms.

After a cappuccino and a long, cool shower, at 8 a.m. I called Lefty’s Hauling again. It rang fifteen times, unanswered. This was, of course, totally unacceptable. It was time for Plan B.

I slipped on a sundress and sandals, put my hair in a ponytail and climbed into the red pleather driver’s seat of Maggie, my 1963 Ford Falcon Sprint convertible. With a little encouragement in the form of smashing her gas pedal to the floor, Maggie carried me north along Gulf Boulevard. The four-lane road, lined with two- and three-story beach resorts, skirted the Gulf of Mexico like stiches in a hem.

Year round, tourists flocked to the quaint mom-and-pop motels and sugar-white beaches. I couldn’t blame them. All-in-all, St. Pete Beach was a great place to be.

I turned east on 107th Avenue. Immediately, the salt air and kitsch beach shops disappeared, replaced with anywhere-USA strip malls. At 66th Street, I turned north in the direction of good-old Pinellas Park.

Every major metropolitan area had a section designated especially for rednecks. How they found each other, I didn’t know. Maybe they were all related, or there was some special redneck hotline I wasn’t privy to. At any rate, in Pinellas County, the mecca for country bumpkins and politically incorrect-and-proud-of-it folks was definitely Pinellas Park.

If it weren’t for Florida’s history of hurricanes and tropical storms, Pinellas Park would have choked to death on doublewide trailers decades ago. But in 1993, a freak storm took out all but the very highest quality manufactured homes. It had been dubbed the “1993 Storm of the Century” by some, the “’93 Super Storm” by others, and the “Great Blizzard of 1993” by the Yankees up north. But we locals simply called it the “No-Name Storm,” because it had come up so quickly and unexpectedly not even the weather forecasters had had time to register it with an official moniker.

It had begun on March 12th as a cyclonic storm in the Gulf of Mexico, then quickly grew into a beast that stretched from Cuba to Canada. It moved into Florida around midnight, catching us unaware with winds over 100 mph. It spawned 11 tornadoes and a storm surge in St. Pete that topped out at seven feet. For folks along the coast, bay and rivers, it had been devastating. It wiped out or damaged over 18,000 homes in the Sunshine State and killed 47 of our citizens, more than Hugo and Andrew combined. Suffice it to say, it was not a good time to be living in a tin can on wheels.



WHAT FOUR
November 7, 2017

Most Definitely Contains Nuts.

All Val wants is a quiet holiday away from her oddball family. But a promise pried from her lips earlier in the year has blown that wish out the henhouse window.

When Val and her boyfriend Tom arrive at her mother’s house in Hicksville, USA, the annual Family Fruitcake Competition is well underway. And there’s more than a few fruits and nuts in the running.

But the biggest contest is between Val and her mom.

As their battle of wills heats up, unexpected ingredients get thrown into both women’s batter. It may be time to call in a referee….

Who will get best in show? Who will get their just desserts? And will Val’s half-baked family turn out to be too much baggage for Tom to handle? Order a copy and find out!

If you like deeply flawed characters and laugh-out-loud situations, you’ll love What Four. It’s the fifth book in Margaret Lashley’s hilarious, irreverent Val & Pals Series of seriously funny women’s fiction.



Like the characters in my novels, I haven’t lead a life of wealth or luxury. In fact, as it stands now, I’m set to inherit a half-eaten jar of Cheez Whiz…if my siblings don’t beat me to it.

During my illustrious career, I’ve been a roller-skating waitress, an actuarial assistant, an advertising copywriter, a real estate agent, a house flipper, an organic farmer, and a traveling vagabond/truth seeker. But no matter where I’ve gone or what I’ve done, I’ve always felt like a weirdo.

As a child I lived in my own pretend world of tickling fairies and talking cats. I began writing when I found an ancient black typewriter on my grandparent’s back porch. (Inspired by my brothers, Boys are Stupid was my first masterpiece.)

I’ve learned a heck of a lot in my life. But getting to know myself has been my greatest journey. Today, I know I’m smart. I’m direct. I’m jaded. I’m hopeful. I’m funny. I’m fierce. I’m a pushover. And I have a laugh that makes strangers want to join me at restaurants. In other words, I’m a jumble of opposing talents and flaws and emotions. And it’s all good.

In some ways, I’m a lot like Val Fremden the main character in my Val & Pals Series. My books featuring Val are not autobiographical, but what comes out of her mouth was first formed in my mind, and sometimes the parallels are undeniable. I drink TNTs. I had a car like Shabby Maggie. And I’ve started my life over four times, driving away with whatever earthly possessions fit in my car. And, perhaps most importantly, I’ve learned that friends come from unexpected places.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Beyond the Mist #romanticsuspense new release #teaser and #giveaway @CasiMcLean

BEYOND THE MIST
Lake Lanier Mysteries, book 2
by Casi McLean

Genre: Time Travel Romantic Suspense


Piper Taylor concedes she’ll never fall in love, until a treacherous storm spirals her into the arms of the handsome Nick Cramer. Unrelenting remorse over a past relationship haunts Nick, but he can’t deny the mysterious connection and hot desire Piper evokes.

The allure of a secret portal hidden beneath Atlanta’s Lake Lanier tempts him into seizing the opportunity to change his mistakes. But his time slip triggers consequences beyond his wildest dreams.

Can Piper avoid the international espionage and terrorism of 2001 New York, find Nick, and bring him home before he alters the fabric of time, or will the lovers drift forever Beyond The Mist?


A soft mist hovered over the moonlit lake, beckoning, luring him forward with the seductive enticement of a mermaid’s song. Rhythmic clatter of a distant train moaned in harmony with a symphony of cricket chirps and croaking frogs. Spellbound, Nick Cramer took a long breath and waded deeper into the murky cove. Dank air, laden with a scent of soggy earth and pine, crawled across his bare arms. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, shooting a prickle down his spine that slithered into an icy pool coiled in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his fingers into a tight fist, determined to fight through the emotion consuming him. Fear sliced through his belly like icy shards until he finally heaved, forcing rancid bile to choke into his throat.

I have to do this––he inched forward––only a few more steps and––

A sudden surge swirled around him, yanking him into a whirling vortex, where a violent blue streak dragged him deeper, deeper beneath the lake into the shadowy depths. Heart pounding, he battled against the force, twisting, thrusting toward the surface with all of his strength but, despite his muscular build, he spun like a feather in wind into oblivion. When the mist dissolved, Nick Cramer had vanished.

****

Darkness consumed him, a cyclone spinning, twisting Nick as he ripped through an endless void. His lungs burned for oxygen. He could hold his breath no longer, and relinquished his resolve, but he felt no pain. Instead, a sense of serenity encircled him as if he were floating, weightless, breathless, helpless on a cloud of warm air...then the abyss abruptly imploded. Pierced by a brilliant violet-blue light that shattered into a kaleidoscope of color, the tempest hurtled him, whirling, snaking boundlessly until he finally burst through the surface, gasping for air.

He filled his lungs to capacity, breathed in and out several times before opening his eyes to assimilate the greenish blur surrounding him. Instinctively dog-paddling to stay afloat, he stared at a rustic old wooden bench situated atop a ridge above until his head stopped swimming. He had survived the tumult that ripped his body through Lord knows what and challenged him physically and emotionally to the limits few men could endure. And for what, to end up exactly where he started?

“Noooooo.” His blood-curdling moan cut through the silence.

He slapped his hand across the water, scooping a splash that flew around him. There was nothing more he could do. He tried. He risked his life to set things right, to offset the tragic event that had haunted him for eleven years, but he always knew the chance equated to that of a snowball in hell.




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Reeling from her boyfriend’s indiscretions at a party, Lacey Montgomery escapes into the throes of a torrential storm. Her car spins out of control and hurtles into the depths of an icy, black lake. She awakens in the arms of a handsome stranger, in a place she’s never heard of—thirty-four years before she was born.

Bobby Reynolds is smitten the moment the storm-ravaged woman opens her eyes. Learning the truth about her origin does nothing to stop the passion taking root in his heart and leaves him torn between finding a way to return Lacey to her time and convincing her stay with him.

Will the couple be able to discover the key to a mysterious portal before time rips them apart? Or will their spirits wander forever through a ghost town buried beneath the lake?


Award winning author, Casi McLean, pens novels to stir the soul with romance, suspense, and a sprinkle of magic. Her writing crosses genres from ethereal, captivating shorts with eerie twist endings to believable time slips, mystical plots, and sensual romantic suspense, like Beneath The Lake, WINNER: 2016 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence for BEST Romantic Suspense.

Casi's powerful memoir, Wingless Butterfly: Healing The Broken Child Within, shares an inspirational message of courage, tenacity, and hope, and displays her unique ability to excel in nonfiction and self-help as well as fiction. Known for enchanting stories with magical description, McLean entices readers in nonfiction as well with fascinating hooks to hold them captive in storylines they can't put down.

Her romance entwines strong, believable heroines with delicious hot heroes to tempt the deepest desires then fans the flames, sweeping readers into their innermost romantic fantasies. Ms. McLean weaves exceptional romantic mystery with suspenseful settings and lovable characters you'll devour. You'll see, hear, and feel the magical eeriness of one fateful night. You'll swear her time travel could happen, be mystified by her other worldly images, and feel heat of romantic suspense, but most of all you'll want more.

Saturday, September 16, 2017

She keeps telling me she is hard to love; yet I find it quite easy. #romance @4leighlennon #teaser #giveaway

UNFILTERED
by Leigh Lennon

Release Date: September 15, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance


Justine

I never will get my happy ending. With my past threatening to ruin the possibility of love in my future, I keep every man at arm’s length. Nick appears out of thin air, becoming a part of my life instantly, leaving me breathless and wanting more. The pain that haunts me is still present, but Nick is worth the risk. When he promises me forever; can I trust him?

Nick

Justine makes me see that a forever is in reach with her. She keeps telling me she is hard to love; yet I find it quite easy. Once I break down her walls, she finally lets me in. But, I have a secret of my own which can expose her to the demons that destroyed me in the past. However, with Justine, I will do anything and everything to make her mine.



Nick

Justine is my future and I can’t imagine a life without her as my future. She is nervous about the next step yet I won’t let her go that easy. “Are you really that uncertain of us?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m not uncertain of us, I am uncertain of me, of me ruining this by being well, me!”

Leaning forward, with an affliction of righteous anger fueling me, I snap, “I fucking hate when you put yourself down like that Justine,” Her eyes instantly shift in dilation over my brashness, which has never been shown to her.

“Whoa, buddy,” she says as a warning. “Don’t you see? I am scared that I will be the one to screw this up, that is all.” She asks, her hands shaking. I grab them to bring calm to her.

“I am doing all I can to show you I am not like those that abandoned you in the past. Don’t you see that?” I look away, trying to not attach myself to the hurt in her eyes, placed by others, but I am not the one who placed all that crap there. “I haven’t had a lot of long-lasting relationships. You once told me that you suspected Rafe stepped out on you well before you left him.”

She looks down, as if she was silently telling me she hates the direction of this conversation. “Yes, that is true.”

“I think this is affecting you more than you’re willing to admit. And sure, this relationship of ours is moving fast, but I think when you are our age, you just don’t care about the petty shit you do when you are twenty. We have something special, Justine.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“But you’re still scared,” I press for an answer.

“Hell yes, I am scared. You came out of nowhere right when I wrote off being able to love again.”

“You are too damn proud of a woman. You don’t have to act all macho with me.”

“But I have had to do just that for so long. Rafe was a shitty husband and a really shitty dad until Hildy came around. And how do you think that made me feel. He wouldn’t change for the kids and myself but with her, he did. Which I guess is good, she wouldn’t put up with the half-assed dad stuff. But he wouldn’t change for me. So yes, I have been on my own, even during our marriage, on my own.”

“And that has made you the mom and woman you are today. But more so, honey, that has affected how you let someone love you. I am not Rafe and you are not alone anymore.”

“So, what does that mean?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m here and we are going to make this work because I love you. I can’t see growing old with anyone else but you. So please let your guard down when it comes to me.”

Justine is not one to cry but she has let her exterior hardness down and tears were openly flowing. “I never thought I needed to hear those words before, but it is such a relief to hear them from you,” she says.

I kneel in front of her and bring her to the floor with me. “Let me take on that burden. Can you believe me when I say I won’t leave you? No matter how much you push me away; you are stuck with me.”

“Yes,” she says as I embrace her. In that moment, I feel every worry receding from her body because she has found her person and I have found mine.



Leigh has done a number of interviews over the last month. Visit these sites to learn more about Leigh and her books.


Leigh Lennon is mother, veteran and a wife of a cancer survivor. Originally with a degree in education, she started writing as an outlet that has led a deep passion as she wrote twelve books. Now ready to publish all of them, she lugs her computer with her as she crafts her next story. She can be found drinking coffee or wine, depending on the time of the day.

Friday, September 15, 2017

A wicked glint lit her eyes, and a playful grin spread across her face #MC #eroticromance new release #teaser @CRMoss @evernightpub



Hello! It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a release, and now I can say all that’s changed. A big thank you to my host for allowing me to visit today and share my story Transcending Fire. This erotic, futuristic, dystopian story based around different motorcycle gangs has had quite a journey to get to this point. Perhaps one day I’ll share the two-plus-year jaunt this story went through to find a home. Luckily, it finally has. Even with all the trials it went through, I still love this story. It’s one of my favorites that I’ve written, and one that I didn’t get tired of during the editing process either. Yay! A man dealing with an Earth in chaos. A woman from an alternate universe hoping to find her destiny. Two motorcycle gangs and a real bad ass who wants to ruin everything. What’s not to like?

~ Blurb ~
* Hunter Macario wants one thing—a place to belong. When given an opportunity to solidify his position in the motorcycle club, Devil’s Thunder, he takes it. * Dragon’s Clan member, Safaia King, believes she’s found the man from her people’s legend and her dreams. She has one goal, even if he’s in a rival club—to make Hunter hers and keep him safe so he can fulfill their destiny. * After Hunter makes a huge mistake, he’s sent to where Safaia lives—an alternate universe called The Den. In this new world, sex, battles, and secrets abound. Hunter must survive The Den to right some wrongs or else he could lose everything he’s ever gained, including his home and Safaia’s love.

~ Adult Rated Excerpt ~
* A wicked glint lit her eyes, and a playful grin spread across her face. She smoothed a hand down his hard chest. “I love the definition of your muscles, Hunter, how they shudder beneath my fingers when I touch you.” Inch by inch, she continued sliding her hand down his torso. She moved her hand between his skivvies and skin. Saf circled his cock and stroked him in time with the motions of his fingers within her. Desire pulsed through his body, setting it aflame. She pressed her face against his chest and playfully bit his pectoral as she rode his hand. * Adrenaline and arousal increased his breathing rate, and a warm buzz raced through him. The pull between them seemed so intense, undeniable, as if they had to be together or perish. He felt like one of the club’s customers addicted to black chip and needing a fix before he went crazy with want. And his drug of choice? * Safaia. Always and forever Safaia. * He wanted to eat her up. “I want to taste you. Lick up your juices and have you squirm beneath my face.” Hunter yanked down her jeans and repositioned her until her ass was at the edge of the boulder. * Sinking to his knees, he placed himself between her legs. Looking forward to tasting her sweetness and feel her softness after facing the harsh realities of his life, he traced a line of gentle kisses along her inner thigh from her knee to her pussy and then fastened his mouth on the sensitive folds between her legs. When he dipped his tongue into her canal, she shifted her butt to allow him better access. He reached up and snaked his rough hands under her shirt, concerned only for a moment whether she enjoyed or loathed the coarse touch of his dry, work-worn skin. She moved the cloth and her bra out of the way. * Seems she doesn’t mind. * Pushing away all his thoughts and focusing on her—his carnal treasure—Hunter kneaded her tits while he teased her clit. He loved the taste and scent of her musky flesh and lapped up her essence as he said he would. * She grasped his head, weaving her fingers in his hair. “Oh, great Universe. This is. This is.” She panted and grappled with his locks as a low, deep moan rolled from her throat. “I think I’m going to come.” * The first night they’d met, their lovemaking had been hot and fast, more wham bam thank you than let’s linger and relish this. This time, though, he wanted to savor her, make her feel all sorts of naughty pleasure as he took his own. * Saf bucked and tried to scooch away, but he grabbed her hips and kept her from moving away from him. Unrelenting, he tongue fucked her. She struggled and wriggled, but he continued his assault, plunging his tongue in and out of her, licking up her wetness, and nipping at her clit. Safaia pressed the back of his head and lifted her ass. Spasms racked her body. She cried out his name. * Bringing her to orgasm thrilled him, but his selfish streak came forward. He wanted to enjoy her and feel his own pleasure, so he rose, stepped back, and removed his jeans.
Buy Transcending Fire here... Evernight Publishing
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Bio for Casey Moss
Casey Moss delves into the darker aspects of life in her writing, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the light-hearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore…
Find Casey Moss here... Amazon Author Page

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Thank you, dear reader, for taking a couple minutes to read up on my story. Use the buy links above to purchase a copy, and after you’ve read it, don’t forget to leave a review! We authors really appreciate them. :)