Kept From You (Tear Asunder #4) by Nashoda Rose #ReleaseBlitz @nashodarose @bookenthupromo

Kept From You (Tear Asunder #4) by Nashoda Rose

Book Title: Kept from You (Book 4: Tear Asunder)
Author: Nashoda Rose
Genre: Erotic Romance
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Cover photo: Copyright © 2016 Wander Aguiar Photography (http://www.wanderbookclub.com)
Model: Nick Bennett (https://www.facebook.com/nickbennett6/)
Cover design by: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs

A first kiss that changed everything.

Killian Kane.
He was the most feared guy in high-school.
Guarded. Angry. A fighter.
But when I caught him watching me with his captivating green eyes I saw something more. Something protective and kind. 


He warned me to stay away from him.

I did.
Until I didn’t and he kissed me. A knee weakening, body tingling kiss that left me breathless. 
And scared the hell out of me.


And then…
He warned me never to come near him again or next time he wouldn’t let me go.



That was eleven years ago.
We aren’t teenagers anymore. He has probably forgotten me. 
He’s a famous rock star now. I’m a dance instructor with a broken dream and desperate for a job.
So, when we cross paths again I don’t expect him to remember me.
He does.
And his warning eleven years ago? I’m about to find out exactly what that meant.

The thin sweet crunch mixing with the light, airy cream tickled my tongue.

Indulging was rare. Indulging in something like crème brûlée was heaven on a spoon.

But what made it even more like heaven was that Killian watched me with desire blazing in his eyes.

I swallowed, then with the tip of my tongue, I slid it over my lower lip, licking the remnants of cream.

“Fuck,” he growled.

I secretly smiled, heart pumping wildly.

I’d never been sexy or tried to be sexy, but I wanted to be with Killian. He made it easy for me to be brave.

Lights dim, candles flickering, the soft jazz music in the background, skin tingling from the sexy-as-hell man next to me, yeah, I was brave.

I dipped the spoon in again, but Killian’s fingers spanned my wrist, stopping me.

I met his eyes and without a word, but knowing exactly what he wanted by the silent exchange of his steady expression, I released the spoon to him.

His attention went to the dessert where he tapped the light thin sugar shell before breaking through and sinking into the airy lightness.

He lifted the overfilled spoon at the same time as his eyes.

I thought he was going to take a bite himself, but he held the spoon out to me. “Open.”

I nervously laughed, thinking he was kidding; it was a huge mouthful. “It’s too much.”

“I know. Open, Savvy,” he said.

Oh, God, my belly dropped and my sex clenched. I swallowed, licking my lips again.

“No,” he said with a firm voice. “I didn’t ask you to lick your lips. Although that is fuckin’ delectable as hell.” His tone lowered further. “I asked you to open your mouth.”

My eyes widened. Holy. Fuck. That was hot. Demanding and a little scary because him using that voice I’d pretty much do anything he asked.

I opened, and he slid the dessert into my mouth, and since there was so much, it hit the roof, sides, and back of my throat. He didn’t remove the spoon right away and watched as I struggled not to pull away.

When I was just about to say screw it, he said, “My cock will fill your mouth a hell of a lot more than this.”

I nearly choked. And I would’ve if he didn’t slowly remove the spoon, my lips dragging over the cool, smooth surface of the spoon to make certain I took the entire dessert.

His elbow rested on the table, spoon in his hand, eyes on mine as I swallowed little by little until it was gone. The entire time I thought about his cock.

meet the author

Nashoda Rose is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave.

When she isn’t writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her addiction—books.

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 I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

BONES by MariaLisa deMora #ReleaseBlitz @MJsBookBlognR @MariaLisadeMora

Title:
Bones

Series:
Rebel Wayfarers MC, #10

Author:  MariaLisa
deMora

Genre: MC
Romance

Release
Date: March 6, 2016

Synopsis


Raised in a hellhole echoing with the sounds of conflict,
Bones most profound childhood memory is of the day he died. Decades later, he
has built an empire where he is king. His brothers have his back, and life is
good. So good, he doesn’t realize what’s missing until he meets her. Ester
seems to be the one woman capable of looking beyond his mask and seeing … him.


 Full description:

Salvador Ramos’ world was upended the day before he turned
twelve. The stick-thin son of a small-time drug king, his demand for justice
fell on deaf ears, and the identity of his sister’s killer remained a mystery.
From that day forwards, Sal vowed he would never forget how it felt to be
powerless.
Now he’s ready to make good on that promise. Positioned as one
of the dominant outlaws in Chicago, he deals from a place of strength and
power, leveraging fear as a weapon. He is a leader among men, having honed
loyalty through harsh lessons, and earned trusted friendships until none can
stand against him. He is Bones.
Bones. A man who looks like a monster. Covered in tattoos,
black and grey, with hardly any inch of skin left bare. A hundred different
sigils and symbols on each arm, ink crawled up his neck like the collar of a
closely fitted shirt. Black and colored ropes of pictures disappeared
underneath his shirt. Strong hands, with muscles that danced beneath the images
as he moved. Bones wore his skin like a shield, a barrier to hold at bay those
who wouldn’t put in the time to know who he is. Who didn’t care enough to learn
about the man behind the bars written on his skin. The ink as isolating as any
jail cell unless you held the key.
Ester has been on her own since she was ten. She spent much of
that time on the run from her own fears, failing to escape from the demons in
her mind. Her life on the fringe of society has given her a unique perspective
on humanity, and a cautious but abiding curiosity about the nature of people.
She sees pain and terror everywhere, except when she looks at him. Bones alone
helps relieve the piercing agony of her thoughts.
He should be frightening to a woman like her. But he wasn’t.
He isn’t.

 

http://bit.ly/GR-Bones
 

 

Purchase Links
http://getBook.at/RWMC-Bones     http://bit.ly/Bones-BnN     http://bit.ly/Bones-iTunes

 

 

 

Excerpt
 Chapter

4 – My beauty

Bones
rolled the bike to a slow stop, scanning the benches in the park. It was the
third one he’d been to in the past hour, and with each approach, he had felt
his pulse speed in anticipation. There, he thought, satisfaction and relief
sweeping through him. She sat on a bench, head cocked to one side, listening to
a boy tell her a story. Arms pumping, the boy seemed to be miming every aspect
of the tale, from running while looking frantically over his shoulder, to
leaping across an obstacle, finally collapsing back onto the bench with arms
lifted in victory. Ester’s own arms raised in shared jubilation, and Bones
heard her laughter ringing through the air.
He had
first met her months ago. A chance meeting which intrigued him so much, he felt
compelled to seek her out again and again. That first time had been in a
section of town belonging to neither Skeptics, nor Rebels, and his very
presence there carried a certain danger if discovered. Alert to any oddness,
the bolting exit of a woman from an alley with a man’s wallet in her fist had
caught Bones’ attention.
One
moment later she continued on her way sans wallet, and he’d walked into the
alley to see what was transpiring—just in time to see a man lifting his hand to
strike the whore in front of him. Bones thought surely the skinny woman must be
a whore like the one who’d just escaped, finding out moments later he had been
wrong. Reading wrong meaning into circumstances, he had judged as surely as
every person on the street judged him. The knowledge had stung.
Defending
her regardless, that defense had granted him far more than anticipated. Such
had been his introduction to his nameless friend. Standing with a bag of
spoiled fruit clutched to her chest, she had squeezed so tightly in her fright
the peaches had left pink stains on her shirt. Bright eyes looking out from
underneath a wild mass of hair, she had gifted him with a wide smile when she
stretched out her hand, quoting a ridiculous movie. With her actions and words,
she’d shown him she had mastered not only her environment, but also was a
master at observation. She’d taken his measure in a glance, and not found him
wanting. Something for which he was eternally grateful, because she somehow
made his life richer.
Destitute,
homeless, she was filled with a giving nature the likes of which he had never
seen. He had watched one day as she took a loaf of bread given to her by a
shopkeeper and divided it down so her portion was the least. Half given to a
woman with a child, half of what remained to a legless veteran on the street corner,
half of what remained to a dog that whined and twined around her legs, making
her laugh, and half of the last piece went to the clutch of pigeons that landed
at her feet the moment she took a seat on a bench, happy to stuff a single bite
into her mouth, laughing again as the birds strutted and preened at the
attention.
The boy
stood, and she tilted her head up to look at him, then they simultaneously
twisted their necks to look at a red-faced woman shouting, standing on the
path. Bones watched as the boy shrugged, then ducked his chin to his neck at
another shout. Embarrassed, it seemed. Seated, she shooed him away, releasing
him from the niceties of society and the boy ran backwards a few feet, waving
madly until both of her hands rose above her head, pivoting in a wild wave at
the ends of her arms.
My beauty,
Bones thought, checking traffic before he pulled back out, slowly increasing
his speed, riding away from her and no longer caring when she had become his.
She simply was.
 
Series Reading Order & Series Buy Links
Amazon  •  Barnes & Noble  •  Kobo  •  iTunes

 

Author BioRaised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an
early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library,
devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she
says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and
found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available,
I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.”

A hockey fan, hiker, gamer, and single mom of a special needs son, she
embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field for a
publishing company for a couple decades.

Music is a driving passion, and she says, “I love music of nearly any
genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap,
hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing
through the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live
music. My favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars
[read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection
of premium tequila, then that’s a plus!”

Connect with MariaLisa

 

I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

LEATHER PANTS by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff #Releaseblast @TastyBookTours @MimiJeanRomance

It Only Takes One
Hot Rock Star To Ruin Your Life…

 

LEATHER PANTS
Happy Pants #2
Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Releasing March 3rd, 2017

 

From
New York Times Bestseller, Mimi Jean Pamfiloff, Comes Book #2 of The Happy
Pants Cafe Series…
It Only Takes One
Hot Rock Star To Ruin Your Life…
The youngest woman to ever sit on the bench, the
Honorable Sarah Rae Alma has busted her butt to get where she is. No fun. No
distractions. And definitely no bad boys. In fact, she takes a certain pleasure
in crushing their souls—yes, she has her reasons.
So when rock-n-roll’s most famous bad boy, the
legendary Colton Young, enters her court, looking hotter than sin and smugger
than hell, she’s just itching to serve a little justice.
But Sarah’s about to make the biggest mistake of
her life. And her fate will land squarely in the hands of the world’s most
notorious rock star rebel.

 

Will he crush her? Or will he tempt her to take a
walk on the wild side?

Feeling woozy, Sarah took her seat behind her immaculate desk in her pristine office—floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on one side, big window on the other, walls covered in her degrees and recognitions for public service—all overlooking the back alleyway of the building.

 

Colt’s lawyer entered her chamber first, followed by the DA, who quickly informed her about a video that had just come out. It showed that Colton Young had been falsely accused of grabbing one of the officers’ guns and striking him in the face.

 

The DA tapped on his phone and showed the screen to Sarah. “The video does show, however, that Colton Young urinated in public and relieved himself on the other officer’s leg.” The video looked to be filmed from behind a pile of boxes in a back alley, possibly behind a restaurant or something. How lucky. Maybe a fan had been following him.

 

“Well,” Sarah said, lacing her fingers together on top of her desk, “this certainly changes things.” No trial. Yes! She held back the urge to do a victory tap dance. Not that she could tap dance.

 

“We’ll be dismissing the felony charges,” said the DA, “but the defendant is a public figure and must be held accountable for his actions against the other officer. Especially in light of his track record.”

 

He referred to Colton’s auto theft trial from three months ago. The jury found him innocent after the owner of the vehicle came forward, claiming he’d been drunk and had forgotten that he’d actually given Colt permission to borrow the car. Wanting to make a name for himself, the DA tried to make the charges stick by discrediting the owner of the car, who’d contradicted himself in the police report. A big fail. The jury could only find Colton Young guilty of wrecking a tree on public property, for which Sarah sentenced Mr. Young to pay a small fine. All this meant that the DA wasn’t going to let this go.

 

The DA went on, “We want to continue with the trial and ensure justice is served for the fine people of California, who are tired of the entitled few getting away with this kind of illegal behavior.”

 

Sarah wanted to roll her eyes. This guy acted like he was on TV, trying to impress the world. Idiot. Who had time for showboating? Their courtrooms were bogged down with so many cases—murders, rape, drug charges—it would be a waste of taxpayer dollars to hold a juried trial for a misdemeanor moistening of an officer’s pant leg, famous defendant or not. Especially when one policeman had brought false charges under very suspicious circumstances, a much, much bigger issue for the DA to spend his time on.

 

Sarah looked at the DA. “While I am a devoted supporter of our police force, I suggest you do the world a favor and drop all charges.” In all likelihood, the charges wouldn’t stick anyway. Colton Young looked sauced and the jury would find said peeing infraction an accident.

 

“I can’t do that,” replied the DA. “It sends the wrong message to the public.”

 

So he’s worried about looking weak. Some days the politics of this job drove her insane. They were here for one thing and one thing only: to serve justice.

 

Sarah looked at Colt’s lawyer, a very handsome man, and noticed he looked familiar. She’d probably had him in her court before. “Well?”

 

He gave her a nod. “I’ll speak to Mr. Young. He’ll be changing his plea to guilty.”

 

Strange. “Don’t you want to talk to your client—”

 

“No. My client will plead guilty.”

 

Normally, the defendant’s lawyer would want to discuss the situation with their client. On the other hand, the sooner this ended, the better. She wouldn’t have to stare at Mr. Hotti-hotastic in his smokin’ hot leather pants for a week and risk looking like an idiot—correction—a bigger idiot. The public would be served by eliminating a costly trial. Mr. DA would feel like he’d served his fat ego. Everyone would win.

 

“Excellent.” She looked at her watch. “We’ll reconvene in five minutes.”

 

The two attorneys left and Sarah plopped her forehead down on her desk. Thank God. All she needed to do now was accept Colt’s plea without fucking that up, and then she could worry about sentencing in three or four weeks.

 

God, what was all that in there? I can’t stand his type. And she hated pompous jerks who reeked of entitlement even more. But that man…that man…

 

She would never forget the first time she’d seen Colton back in college, when he had his first hit record. Her roommate kept playing this song of his—“A Love Song”—about a man who kept trying to find love, but every woman who walked into his life refused to see the real him.

 

You want the money

 

You want the fame

How about wanting me, baby?

 

After hearing the song five hundred times, Sarah began plotting to make sure her roomie, Melissa, and that damned boom box disappeared. Quicksand. Deep well. Accidental fire. She’d go mad if she had to hear that tune one more goddamned time!

 

And then it happened.

 

Sarah caught a glimpse of Colton Young in a music video. She remembered being unable to look away. Those sensual lips, those hazel eyes. She’d never seen a man like that. And the way he moved those hips and that body? So sexy. So confident. A complete badass.

 

Sarah like. Sarah want. Sarah neeeed…

 

Which was why she’d remained a fan all these years until he walked into her courtroom a few months ago for that auto-theft case. His empty gaze and lack of emotion instantly shook her. He didn’t seem to care about anything around him or anyone.

 

Not at all the passionate alpha stud I thought him to be. Still, she couldn’t help getting all flustered in his presence—a mental hangover from years of being a huge fan.

 

Sarah cringed, resenting the effect he had on her. I’m going to enjoy the hell out of throwing him in jail for two months. Wait, make it three. Because regardless of the current situation, Colton Young was not innocent. He’d been given every chance to live a very privileged life. He had the sort of money and opportunities given only to a handful. Yet he wanted to piss it away—literally—by acting like a lawless rebel and getting arrested every few months.

 

Yes, Colton Young waved the bad-boy flag high in the air. And he definitely fell into her “throw the full book at him” category.

 

Hot or not. She would serve justice and make that man cry.

Mimi Jean
Pamfiloff
 is
USA Today and New York Times bestselling
romance author. Although she obtained her MBA and worked for more than fifteen
years in the corporate world, she believes that it’s never too late to come out
of the romance closet and follow your dream. Mimi lives with her Latin Lover
hubby, two pirates-in-training (their boys), and the rat terrier duo, Snowflake
and Mini Me, in Arizona. She hopes to make you laugh when you need it most and
continues to pray daily that leather pants will make a big comeback for men.
 

I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

INFLICT by Bethany-Kris #Excerpt @IndieSagePR @BethanyKris

INFLICT

by Bethany-Kris
Publication Date: April 3, 2017
Genres: Adult, Erotic, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime

BLURB:

As the son of an Irish mobster, Connor O’Neil spent his boyhood hiding from the horrors of his own home. His one reprieve was a girl he knew only as Evelyn, but even she was taken away. As a man, Connor is determined to stay away from his father’s business. With Sean, participation is not a request, but a demand. The truth is, Connor might be more like the evil he’s trying to hide away from than he would like to admit.

And he’s already spent years trying to cover the scars left over from the pain.

A chance encounter puts the lost girl from his past back on his path, and he no longer has a choice but to face the darkness he’s been ignoring for years.

Evelyn. Sasha. Slave.

She doesn’t really know who she is anymore.

Or maybe she does, and she doesn’t want to tell.

She isn’t the same as she once was—now a thing to be kept and maintained, shuffled from owner to owner until it was her time to go. She only became Connor’s because he took her when he knew she wasn’t his to take.

Except she isn’t Connor’s at all …

And he can’t keep her hidden forever.

~Inflict is a Standalone Romance with graphic depictions of violence, sexual scenes, dark elements and a HEA. It is not recommended for those under the age of 18.

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EXCERPT

“It’s art, the same thing you have all over the house, except on canvas.”

“Where it belongs,” Connor said exasperated. “Children draw on the walls, Evelyn.”

What bit of anger was in her expression melted away, leaving a deep hurt in its place. A part of Connor regretted what he’d said almost instantly, but the other part of him knew it was true.

He understood that it was the same way for Evelyn, too. A large part of her was all woman—adult, grown, and a wee bit insane. But there was still a part of her that was a wee child, stuck in a time before all the terrible things had happened to her.

“That was uncalled for,” she said.

Connor scowled. “Drawing on the walls is uncalled for.”

“You’re just parroting things back to me.”

“Because I’m the one making sense, lass!”

Evelyn’s green eyes rolled upwards. “Whatever, I’m finishing the feather, and it’s staying. It’s not like it’s fucking ugly or something.”

Connor eyed the feather, silently agreeing. It was a beautiful image, even if the majority of it was only the barebones of the drawing. Mostly blacklines forming what would be before all the color was added in. She had added some color toward the top, gentle strokes of metallic color that melted with other colors, and shimmered under the kitchen pot lights. He was sure once the light came in from the morning through the windows, the color would sparkle even more.

It was amazing.

He wouldn’t deny that.

But on his kitchen wall?

Surely they had better things to be doing and talking about other than drawing on walls?

“You can keep the feather,” Connor said heavily.

It pained him to do so.

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Feck.

“But,” he added, “no more on the walls.”

Her head turned, showing off her beautiful profile as her lips pursed. “The ceilings are okay, then. I get it.”

Connor had the strangest urge to smack himself in the face. “No.”

“We’ll see.”

“Evelyn—”

“You’re no fun,” she said rather grumpily, tossing her package of markers to the nearby table. Shooting him with another one of her glares, she headed towards the sink, grabbing a glass from the cabinet as she passed. “I thought you would like it.”

Connor didn’t know how to respond to that. “I do.”

“Then why be an ass about it?”

He chose to stay silent and think about his words as she poured a glass of water, and drank it down in her own silence. He walked forward, stopping at the kitchen island just as she set her now empty glass into the sink.

“I will buy you whatever size canvas you want,” Connor said.

“And then you’ll hang them on the walls that I could have just drawn on anyway,” she deadpanned. “Don’t you see how that’s a little ridiculous?”

“No, what’s ridiculous is you drawing on the walls.”

“Connor.”

“Evelyn.”

“It’s pretty,” she whined, waving at it.

“It is—it’s great. You should let me copy it over and tattoo it up your hip and side. It’d look grand, love. It’ll even match the wings on your back. But not on the walls.”

Evelyn frowned. “I thought you would like it.”

“I said I do.”

“Not enough.”

All right.

Now this was getting rather dumb.

Connor was all for indulging Evelyn at times, even some of her more … eccentric moods, when they came on. Which he was learning could be at any point, as she’d spent so much time being forced to do the bidding of a man. This was too far.

“Don’t go acting like a right wagon about all of this,” Connor said, turning to walk out of the kitchen and go find something else to do. “I’m not asking for something feckin’ crazy here just that you don’t draw on my goddamn walls, Evelyn.”

“What does that even mean?”

Connor, more exasperated than he was willing to admit, didn’t bother to turn around as he asked, “What?”

“Wagon. What does that even mean?”

If there was a God above, He was laughing at Connor. Laughing at his foolish arse.

The Irish had a terrible way of taking the English language and mutilating it for their own benefit, however they saw fit. Sometimes shite didn’t make sense, not that it had to outside of the person using it or the person being insulted, but none of that mattered in the grand scheme of things. It was not as simple as saying the phrase meant one thing, when in fact, it could mean a lot of things.

This happened to be one of those times, but he figured it was self-explanatory.

Evelyn had enough Irish in her to look the part, with her green eyes, pale skin, reddish-blonde curls, and freckles every which way he looked. The sad thing was, life had practically stripped her of the nuances and culture, which was a feckin’ shame.

“Means you’re being trite, grumpy, or bitchy—take your pick. Whichever one fits, Evelyn.”

Connor only heard the clang of metal in just enough time to turn around and watch something fly at his feckin’ head. Sweet Jesus, she had one hell of an aim on her. He ducked, and the frying pan practically skimmed the top of his hair before it crashed into the floor just outside of the kitchen.

It took him all of three seconds to stare at Evelyn, check behind him where the frying pan was now laying, and then back at the crazy woman standing behind the island to realize what had even just happened. As shocked as he was, he was also pissed, and amused.

All five feet, four inches of Evelyn stared him down from across the kitchen like she was daring him to say something or move an inch. He swore he saw her hand twitch, too, like she was considering reaching for another one of the hanging pans to whip at him.

No, the wee thing didn’t sound Irish at all. She didn’t understand him sometimes, and he got a chuckle out of it more often than not. She was a wee bit insane—he sort of liked that, too. But standing there like she was, pink-cheeked, huffing, and ready to whip his arse even if she had to use a frying pan to do it, she was every inch an Irish lass.

Every feckin’ inch.

It turned him on like nothing ever had.

He wasn’t even sure how to deal with that.

A smart man—a frightened man—would have turned tail, and run from the angry woman in his kitchen, knowing he’d pushed her too far and he wasn’t going to get anything good from her tonight. Connor was apparently neither of those things, and he was going to blame that on his damn heritage, too.

A stubborn bastard, of course.

“Did you just throw a pan at me?” Connor asked.

Evelyn spluttered in her anger before spitting out, “You called me a child and bitchy.”

“I said ‘pick one.’”

“And I picked one. A pan, I mean.”

“You could have killed me.”

“Probably not. I think your skull is too thick for that.”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off,” Connor said, his jaw clenching.

“Is it working?”

“Throw another pan at me, lass, and I’ll paddle your arse until its good and red, and you’re begging to be allowed to apologize.”

That was his one warning.

He’d given it.

She could make of it what she wanted.

Evelyn’s gaze narrowed. “Is that a promise?”

“Don’t do it again, Evelyn.”

And now his feckin’ cock was hard, so feck this whole goddamn day right to hell. Figuring his warning was enough, Connor headed out of the kitchen without a look back. A cold shower was in his very near future to get his lust under control.

He hadn’t even gotten out of the entryway before she threw the second pan.

God save me, he thought.

Connor turned back around.

Evelyn’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open with an audible pop as Connor stalked toward her. “Wait—wait, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know damn well what I am going to do, lass.”

ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

Vampires of London: Books #1-3 Lorelei Moone #BookBlitz @AuthorLMoone @IndieSagePR

Vampires of London: Books #1-3,

A Steamy & Suspenseful Vampire Romance Collection

by Lorelei Moone
Vampires of London #1-3
Publication Date: March 10, 2017
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires

BUY:

SYNOPSIS:

HURRY: ONLY AVAILABLE FOR A LIMITED TIME!
Sink your fangs into Books 1-3 of the Vampires of London series in one handy bundle. This Vampire Romance collection includes: Alexander’s Blood Bride, Michael’s Soul Mate and Lucille’s Valentine.Alexander’s Blood Bride
When Cat ends up at a Halloween party hosted by the mysteriously handsome and super rich Alexander Broderick, the last thing she expects is to become the object of his desire. Although she gets spooked and runs, she doesn’t yet understand the extent of his dangerous secret: Alexander, and a number of his guests, are vampires. And Cat’s blood is unlike anything they’ve smelled before…Michael’s Soul Mate
Playboy Michael has never wanted to settle down. When he finds a severely injured woman lying in the street, his instincts insist he save her. He turns her into a vampire and takes her home, not realizing that this little random encounter is going to change his immortal life forever.

Lucille’s Valentine
Marek the Soul Eater has escaped and it’s Lucille’s job as Enforcer to return him to the Council. She’s not a team player usually, but when she finds Vampire Hunter Valentino Conti also on Marek’s trail, she decides to join forces. The longer they work together, the more their connection grows. What if the truth comes out? What if Valentino realizes Lucille is the very thing he’s been hunting all his life?

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ABOUT LORELEI MOONE

Lorelei Moone is an up-and-coming author of paranormal romance based in London. A lover of all things sweet, and caffeinated, when she’s not writing about sexy bear shifters and their strong-willed curvaceous love interests, Lorelei can be found baking cookies or cakes for her family.

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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY by Melissa Foster #PreReleaseBlast @TastyBookTours @Melissa_Foster

Watch mysteriously sexy Bear Whiskey claw his way to 
his happily ever after with sassy, rebellious Crystal Moon.

 

TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY
Melissa Foster
Releasing April 10, 2017

 

 

A new sexy standalone romance by New York Times bestselling author Melissa Foster.

Eight months is a long damn time to have the hots for a woman who keeps a guy at arm’s length. But Crystal Moon is no ordinary woman. She’s a sinfully sexy, sass-mouthed badass, and the subject of Bear Whiskey’s midnight fantasies. She’s also one of his closest friends.

Just when Crystal thinks she has her life under control, scorching-hot, possessive, aggressive, and fiercely loyal Bear pushes all her sexual buttons, relentless in his pursuit to make her his.

The more Bear pushes, the hotter their passion burns, unearthing memories for Crystal that are best kept buried. But there’s no stopping the collision of her past and present, catapulting the two lovers down an emotional and sexually charged road that has them questioning all they thought they knew about themselves.

 

 

 

 

Melissa Foster is a New
York Times
 & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes
sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance and new adult romance with
emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last
page. Melissa’s emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family
oriented–perfect beach reads for contemporary romance lovers who enjoy reading
about wealthy heroes and smart, sassy heroines.
 
Don’t miss their first meeting in TRU BLUE!

 I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl