Thursday, July 31, 2014

Without You Here Cover Reveal

Cover Reveal
9781500331672
Book Title: Without You Here Author: Carter Ashby Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: September 9, 2014 Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Synopsis After fighting with her boyfriend, Ettie’s only goal is to drown her sorrows in some Jack Daniels. But when she walks into a country tavern, her attention is immediately redirected to the sexy, older man at the bar. He looks lonely, and sad, and absolutely mouth-watering. Ettie can’t wait to put a smile on his face. For the first time in two years, Wyatt finds himself jolted out of his grief—and by a spunky, vivacious young woman who somehow sees right into his soul. What follows is a passionate weekend full of more life, laughter, and pure joy than he experienced in twenty years of marriage. After they part ways, Wyatt realizes that his feelings for Ettie run deeper than lust. He knows she has a boyfriend, but when he finds out that the boyfriend is his own son, Blake, Wyatt is shattered. He despairs of ever overcoming the guilt he’s slowly drowning in. But Ettie’s resilience and optimism might just save him after all. This Is Now is the sexy, heartwarming story of overcoming grief, embracing love, and learning to live in the moment. excerpt He didn't look up at me when he spoke. He was sopping up hollandaise sauce with a biscuit. "We should do this again, Ettie. Next weekend. How about it?" My heart was suddenly thundering in my ears. I watched him as he pointedly focused on cleaning his plate. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" I asked. He finally looked up. Those blue eyes were hypnotic. And heartbreaking. "I'm asking you to have another fun weekend with me. That's what I'm asking." My eyes fluttered as they started to sting. "Do you need to get to know me better before asking me to be your girlfriend?" His jaw muscles tensed. "Ettie, I..." "Look, Wyatt. I have had just the absolute best time of my life with you this weekend. I have all the information I need to know I want to be in a relationship with you." He snorted and leaned back in his chair. "You don't know shit about me, Ettie. This was fun. But it was superficial and you know it." My chest constricted. I had to take a moment to swallow back the pain. "It wasn't superficial. I'm sorry it didn't mean as much to you as it did to me..." "It meant plenty and that's why I want to see you again. So let's do it, Ettie. Next weekend. We'll meet at the bar Friday and maybe we could road trip down to Gulf Shores or something. Or we could go zip-lining up at Cave City. All kinds of fun shit we could do together. That's what I want." "I want to go home with you." He looked away and shook his head in frustration. Meet the Author Carter Ashby was born and raised in Missouri. She is wife to a supportive, hard-working geek; homeschooling mother to three, future social miscreants; and caregiver to a high-strung, epileptic chihuahua and a severely accident-prone hound dog. Carter writes country romances and reads anything that sounds interesting. Social Links
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Please Pretty Lights

Please Pretty Lightsplease pretty lights
Ina Zajac
Blurb: It’s September when good girl Via Sorenson stumbles into a Seattle strip club, drunk and alone on her twenty-first birthday. Matt and Nick—best friends, bandmates, and bouncers—do their best to shield her from their sadistic cocaine-trafficking boss, Carlos. They don’t realize her daddy issues come with a forty-million-dollar trust fund and a legacy she would do anything to escape. She is actually Violetta Rabbotino, who had been all over the news ten years earlier when her father, an acclaimed abstract artist, came home in a rage, murdered her mother, then turned the gun on himself. Young Violetta was spared, hidden behind the family Christmas tree, veiled by the mysticism of its pretty lights whose unadulterated love captivated and calmed her. Now, desperate to shed her role as orphaned victim, Via stage dives into a one-hundred-day adventure with Matt and Nick, the bassist and drummer of popular nineties cover band Obliviot. The rock-and-roll lifestyle is the perfect distraction—until she is rattled by true love. As Christmas looms closer, her notorious past becomes undeniable. How will she ever untangle herself from her twisted string of pretty lights?  
ina1About the Author: Ina Zajac is an award-winning journalist, avid people watcher, and lover of quirk and contrast. Her writing is heavily influenced by her fascination with music, art, and her hometown of Seattle.
Social Media Links: Website: http://www.inazajac.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/InaZajacWrites Twitter: @InaZajac Excerpt:  
Chapter 1
SoHo, New York City, December 21, 2004
  *** Via Back to the wall, Via shuffled through the candy cane wilderness, careful not to displace piles of presents or disturb crystal angels. It was so close. Branches prickled against her chin and neck as she stretched into the corner. Needles latched onto her green St. Anne Elementary School sweater. After months of waiting and wondering, there it was—white with a gold bow. She reached out. Her fingertips grazed the paper, the tag. It would have her name on it. “No peeking,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Cookies are almost ready. Come and help.” Guilt settled in and crowded out her naughty curiosity. Mama’s feathery voice lingered in the air, and mingled with the smell of gingersnaps. The front door slammed shut. Her body tensed against the wall as it recognized the rumble of her father’s approach. Her arm retreated to the safety of her side. The hardwood floor vibrated his location in the foyer. He wasn’t supposed to be home from the country yet. He needed his rest. “Ingrid!” he yelled. “Violetta!” He called her Violetta when he was angry. When he was happy, he said she was the heartbeat of the universe. Now that she was eleven, she wasn’t a little kid anymore, but she still called him Daddy. He made her promise she would always call him Daddy. His voice was muffled. The floor was still. He must have stopped to check the front bedrooms, but for how long? That tummy pain was back, the one that burned from the inside out; the one Dr. Peyton said fifth graders shouldn’t have. Being the daughter of Joseph Antonio Rabbotino wasn’t easy. Kids at school called her Rabbit and were never allowed to come over and play. The floor trembled more and more. He must be standing nearby, maybe next to the piano, she thought. She couldn’t see past the tree’s festive colors, and prayed he couldn’t either. She had promised to be a good girl. Her mother’s voice rushed over from the kitchen. It was shrill. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Put that down. You’re not yourself right now.” Put what down? She wondered. Sometimes he brought home presents or pets. “You think I’m crazy?” He let out a harsh laugh she had never heard before. “You think you can drug me and leave me in Connecticut to rot?” A bell near her elbow began to jingle. Don’t be a spaz, she told herself. She had to stop shaking; she just had to. Being invisible meant being silent, so she leaned to the right and smothered it. Her other arm met up with something pointy. “But, you wanted to go, remember?” Her mother was talking really fast. “Dr. Goldman said you should rest, give the new meds some time.” Daddy had a lot of doctors. Daddy took a lot of pills. “I know what you think of me,” he said. “That the critics are right. That I’ll never paint again.” “It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay,” her mother insisted. “But you’ve been drinking. We’ve gotten through this before. Remember?” “Why do you do this to me?” he asked. “Evil little actress. Acting like you love me.” “I do. You know I do.” “Liar.” “Please, put that down. We’ll call Dr. Goldman.” “You sent me away. Do you know what it was like there? Knowing you betrayed me? All you had to do was love me, but you’ve ruined me!” “No, you wanted to go. You needed to rest. Please remember. Please.” “Where’s my Violetta?” “Still at school.” “She should be home by now—home with us. We should be together now. She hiding under her bed again?” His words turned and trailed back toward the front bedrooms. “Violetta! Come when I call you!” “Mama?” She called through the branches. Her mother didn’t seem surprised at all to hear her. “Shh,” she said, faint but firm. It was not her normal ‘shh.’ Something was wrong. Her father’s voice was already growing louder again. “Violetta!” “I’m right here,” she tried to say. She decided that she would come out; then he would be angry with her, not her mother. But, a strange sound surrounded her, like baby birds and chimes. It seemed to come through the Christmas tree lights. She blinked. They were such pretty lights—colors she had never seen before. Buzzing into a haze around her, they were mesmerizing. Shh, its all okay, the lights told her, but not in words. She felt their meaning in her teeth and bones. Come and play with us, they urged. Come play pretend. They flurried about. She tried to speak, but they settled against her tongue like candy-coated snow. They loved her. She watched them spin and shine and gleam and glow. They were everything she needed in that moment, and so she relaxed into the soft aura of Christmas. Her mother was screaming, “She’s not here! She’s not here!” The purest colors were born and danced within reflections of those who had come before. Youre not here, they echoed. Youre with us. They snuggled in and tucked themselves around her. Be still, they insisted. This isnt real. She knew they were right. Nothing was real. She was everywhere and nowhere at all, safe between worlds. Her mother’s golden wall clock started to ding its hourly announcement—once, twice. “You did this,” her father said. A third ding. “You made me do this.” Four. Mama’s voice fluttered. “Remember who you are.” A loud noise exploded throughout the apartment. Ornaments rattled and slipped from their homes, and Via with them. Her hands came up to cover her ears, but his voice soon rode the wave of ringing and broke on through. “Why?” he cried. “Why did you make me do this?” Another explosion ripped away the space around her. She sank down overcome by the bells ringing around her. Why? Why were the bells so loud? It was a gun, she realized. The sound vibrating through her was gunfire. Her shoulder came to rest against the edge of the big box—white with a gold bow. Air came into her lungs in notches, each tighter than the last. She didn’t know what to do. Her trembling hand grasped a branch with a candy cane hanging from it. She began to pull it back. “Mama?” Dont look, the pretty lights urged her. Its not real. Its not her. But it was too late. She had already peered past the angels—and through to the other side. “Ma—” Mouth open, heart lost, she released the branch and it sprang back into place. Its candy cane held strong. The pretty lights spoke no more, but hummed and tingled. The murmur of their adoration grew faint and she began to panic. She curled up into herself, tight and small, desperate to disappear back into their protection. “Please, pretty lights. Please don’t go.” She blinked and the lights were just lights. The floors roared. New voices overtook the fading bells. People were yelling. People were coming. An alarm shrieked overhead. The taste of gingersnap dust burnt through the air. “Please, pretty lights,” she called out again, even though she knew they were gone.   ppl -Banner

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Stray Book Blitz

Stray book blitz Book Blitz
Stray
Book Title: Stray Author: Natasha Stories Genre: Romance Release Date: May 11, 2014 Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Synopsis
Erin Timms took a new job as a veterinarian in Sunshine, Colorado for two important reasons: to get away from her ex, and to give herself a chance at a new life. But when devastating news of her ex follows her there, she begins to think she has made a terrible mistake. Tall, stunning-looking Jon Miles had only one goal: to save the mountain canyon where Sunshine is located from businessmen who want to exploit it. But how can he do that when he is already an outcast? There was nothing to suggest they’d ever meet, much less strike a spark of red-hot romance. Except that Erin can never turn away a stray. . . Meet the Author Natasha is the author of romance and erotic romance novels and occasionally short stories. She loves reading as well as writing, and some of my favourite novels are books like Fifty Shades of Grey by E L James, the Fade series by Kate Dawes, as well as anything by Nikki Sex. When she's not reading or writing, Natasha can be found playing with her two puppies and having a glass of red. Book Trailer Social Links
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Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Kink by Nikki Sex

Kink Book Blitz Book Blitz
KINK1
Book Title: Kink Author: Nikki Sex Genre: Erotica Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Synopsis
Emily Malone snuck into my life, slipped under my skin, and right into my heart. Little did I know that danger and death tagged along with her, following in her innocent wake. I’m always in control – but not with her. Emily makes me doubt myself, because she’s so important to me. Emily knows nothing of the lifestyle. I know she’s submissive, but I must take it slow. Gradually, step-by-step, I’ll teach her to enjoy my particular brand of kink, my unique darker needs. She’ll learn to love what I love. What I need. That is if both of us live long enough to complete her training. Meet the Author
NikkiCocktail
Nikki Sex writes sexy contemporary romance, often involving a bit of kink. She's a sucker for Happy Ever After endings, so no matter how dark my stories get, fear not! It always all works out in the end. excerpt I can’t move. I’m dying. For an instant, I imagine someone finding my body. Will birds gather to peck at me? Is that how I’ll be discovered? By someone attracted by unusual animal activity? For a moment I consider who might find me. Will it be someone I know? I can almost hear them yell, “Holy shit, that’s Paul Jarman!” An excruciating spasm assaults me. My lungs seize. My body convulses. Internally, every part of me screams. My mouth falls open – but instead of shrieking, only a soft hiss issues from my throat, heralding my agony and despair. The sound is pathetic. Is that tiny utterance the last noise I’m capable of making before I die? There’s no one nearby to hear me, even if I’d been able to scream. I’ve never been so alone. I’ve also never felt such unbearable pain. Time stops. There’s only this one eternal moment, the agony of now. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m too young to die. I’ve been an idiot most of my life. I’ve been an asshole… but just recently, I’ve learned so much. Everything has been coming together. If I live, I really think that I can make something of myself. But I’m not going to live. Inexorable pressure, like the invisible hand of some cruel giant, pushes down hard on my chest. No air! Each breath I take becomes more and more difficult. Wow. Is this what it feels like to be starved for oxygen? As a Dom I like breath play. It’s kind of karmic to be on the other side. But I sure as fuck don’t get an erotic thrill from this. I’m dizzy. My vision tunnels. The physical pain fades, but sadness stabs at me. This agony of heart and soul is intense. It’s worse than any bodily torment. I have so many regrets. My biggest sorrow comes from the thought of losing Emily. Not only losing her, but leaving her. Not being there for her. My one pure and perfect joy has come from Emily. I’m so grateful that I’ve had her in my life. She’s taught me so much. If only we had more time together. My sweet girl will be distraught. I can’t imagine how she will deal with my death. With all that I’m enduring, the thought of her pain is more than I can take. I forcefully shove the reflection away. I wish I could protect her from this. Blood continues to pump from me. I feel its warmth flowing onto my chest. I’m floating in a mental haze. As I near death, I enter a strangely comfortable state of philosophical delirium. Is it better to kill…or to be killed? What if you took another person’s life by accident… say perhaps, through a moment of incompetent or distracted driving? That would create a burden of guilt that you’d have to live with for the rest of your life. It might even drive a person to suicide. Premeditated murder assumes that one’s conscience is reconciled to committing such a sin. Once reaching that point, guilt and regret wouldn’t be an issue. What about an impulsive murder of passion? Can one honestly justify killing another by pleading temporary insanity? Would a temporary loss of control lessen the burden of guilt afterwards? Even if someone still died by your hands? But I’m not crazy. My actions didn’t result from temporary insanity. For me, it was pure animal instinct. I killed on purpose. As my life drains away, I smile because I know that if I had the chance, I’d do it again. Committing murder is one thing that I don’t regret. Book Trailer Social Links
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