Strike Force by Beth Rhodes #ReleaseBlitz @givemebooksblog @BethRhodes99

 

 

Title: Strike Force
Series: Hawk Elite Security #4
Author: Beth Rhodes
Genre: Romantic Suspense Standalone
Release Date: November 15, 2017


Blurb
Hawk Elite Security,
a group of dedicated men and women.
Moved by duty and honor.
Dedicated to being courageous in the face of adversity.
Passionate about life.~*~*~

Descendant of a line of Romanian gypsies, Marie Gabor uses both truth and
legend to create a persona that will fool even the most jaded of men. When the
family heirloom—the gold armband—is stolen by the long-feuding family from the
old country, she’ll do whatever she can to get it back, including work for Hawk
Elite Security, the very men who are supposed to be guarding the amulet.

Malcolm Daniels has dealt with lying, cheating women before, so when Marie
steps into Hawk Elite to work, he sees right through her façade to the woman
with secrets and a sly hand. But the more he works with her, the harder it is
to ignore just how much he likes; she thinks outside the box, she faces danger
with courage, and—hell—she’s gorgeous. He wants her but doesn’t trust her.

The stakes are raised when her plan to acquire the armband goes awry. Life
becomes a commodity paid to the highest bidder. But will Malcolm be willing to
pay such a high price?

 

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Excerpt

 

Chapter Two
His
doorbell rang at almost eleven the next evening. He’d packed, run through a few
of his programs, played Assassin’s Creed, and was in his gym—the only clean
place in his apartment at the moment. His computer room had exploded with his
latest project, and his living-room-slash-gaming-room-slash-bedroom looked like
what it was…confused.
He pulled
himself over the bar one last time and dropped to the mat below. He grabbed the
chamois off the hook on the wall and wiped his neck, face, and chest. His
fingers bumped over the scar bisecting his pectoral.
His wake-up
call.
He tugged a
t-shirt back on. When he went through the confused room, he stopped to open the
blinds. Stepping over the pile of movie cases, he scowled in disgust and then
opened the front door.
Marie. “Fuck. What are you doing here?”
“Is that
how you say ‘hi’ to all your friends?” Her brow rose.
Speechless,
he hesitated, not sure what to say. Friends.
She’d said the word, but he still struggled to equate what they had with
something he shared with…say, Craig or John.
“I was
thinking,” she began, as if sensing his dilemma, “maybe we got off on the wrong
foot.”
Forget
feet—the sight of her and those big eyes had his tired body
reacting…inappropriately, or appropriately if they were on a path toward being
in his bed. He cleared his throat and thought about the last string of code
he’d created for Tangent Media.
Her hands
fluttered to her sides and she shrugged, reminding him of how small she was,
but delicate? No. “Look, if we have to spend the next few days together, I’d
like to clear the air.”
Malcolm
couldn’t invite her in. The mess was embarrassing, a problem he’d been meaning
to fix. He glanced over his shoulder. “Um…”
“Oh my God.
Do you have someone in there with you?” Her eyes had gone even wider. “I’m so
sorry. I didn’t think. Of course you have someone over. You’re leaving town for
a few nights. And—” She paled. “Uh, you know what? I’ll just see you at the
airport in the morning. I’m sorry.” She leaned, as if to yell around him. “I’m
sorry,” she called out into his empty apartment.
She turned
to leave, and guilt rode his conscience to stopping her. “It’s not a woman,” he
called out, immediately second-guessing himself. He wanted the distance. He
didn’t need her thinking about him as single or available or…fuck, a liar. He
prided himself on being straightforward and honest. “It’s only… Fuck. Weeks of
not cleaning up.”
Marie
turned back, a wary look on her face. “It’s a bad time.”
“It’s fine.
Come in,” he said. “For a few minutes,” he added pointedly. She might be the
drop-by-and-stay kind of girl. Admitting the lust was better than ignoring it,
he told himself, feeling like a total prick. No matter if she was a crook or a
sweet girl who really did want friendship.
She could
have turned over a new leaf.
Or she
could be playing them all.
“I’m going
to go get changed. I’ll be right back.” He hesitated. “Don’t steal anything.”
“Hey.” She
pouted, her bottom lip sticking out.
He pressed
his lips together on the groan wanting to escape.
And then
she surprised him by laughing. “Okay, okay. No touchy.”
Oh, that
did it. And why did her voice sound sultry?
In his
bedroom, he picked up his jeans and stepped into them. He removed the sweaty
shirt and wiped himself with it before he tugged the shirt he’d had on earlier
over his head. Shower later.
She’d made herself at home in his kitchen and pulled down his only
package of Oreos. “How do you eat these?” she asked.
“The usual methods. Sometimes, I pop it in
whole. Sometimes, I twist it open and lick the cream filling.”
She swallowed. “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed, in the
same moment he realized how those words sounded.
“That’s not— I mean, sorry. I didn’t mean…
Shit. I would never purposely make you uncomfortable. Shit. Talk about a sexual
harassment suit.”
She waved him off. “What I mean is…they’re
horribly unhealthy, have a habit of getting stuck in your teeth, and, overall,
aren’t exactly adult cuisine.”
“Oh, that.” Heat rose on his neck. He shrugged.
His history with Oreos was long and complicated.
Marie
leaned against his counter and waited, at ease, as if she belonged right where
she was, waiting for a friend to say something. A flyaway strand of her hair
fell against her face. Her eyes showed a warm interest he hadn’t seen in them
before.
Then she
took a bite of Oreo. A little crumble stayed at the corner of her mouth until
she licked it off with the tip of her tongue. Fuck. He cleared his throat.
Friends. If she was going to push and insist on a truce, they could be friends.
He could handle that.
“I never
had any of the extras growing up,” he finally said. “My first night on my own,
I had enough money for very little. I bought a small bunch of bananas and a
package of Oreos—”
“Did you
sit and eat the whole package or ration them?”
It was a
personality quiz, and he might have avoided answering. But for some reason, he
looked at her and knew the shaky friendship they’d developed over the past
several months either needed to take shape or be cast off completely if he was
going to move on.
“I
rationed, eating three a day for almost two weeks.”
“A big
package.” She laughed at her double entendre. “Sorry.”
His laughter
came unexpected, and he cut it off, covering his mouth as his shoulders shook.
“Geez.” When he looked up at her, she was smiling. Was this the truce she
wanted? It was working.
“You ready
for tomorrow?” he said.
“Almost.”
He nodded.
“Anything you want to share about this trip? You did say you wanted to ‘clear
the air.’”
She moved
then, pacing away from him toward the hallway, which led to his bedroom. “No.
It’s hard enough to work with someone who I’m close to. I thought it would be
good if we were at least speaking. You’ve been avoiding me, Malcolm.”
Self-preservation.
“You have
an uncle that lives on the coast,
near Portland,” he said.
“He is my
uncle!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Sure,” he
drawled, egging her on for no good reason other than he liked to see the fire
in her eyes…and that blush on her pretty little neck. Glutton for punishment.
She scowled
at him. “He raised me. He’s at least seventy-five-years old.”
Malcolm
lifted his hands in surrender. “There’s fucking something, though,” he
muttered.
“There’s
nothing,” she answered, the look in her eyes challenging him.
He conceded
with a nod.
“We going
to be okay?” she asked, serious again.
“Have you
given up your pickpocket ways?”
She
narrowed her eyes. “For the most part.”
He
considered her, taking in her open sandals and the long skirt with lace on the
bottom and pretty metalwork on the belt at the top, below her navel. “You like
people to see you a certain way. You fill a stereotype.”
“I am what
I am. A Romanian by birth. I come from a long line of proud, sometimes
arrogant, people. My family.” Her chin went up, and he wanted to run the edge
of his thumb along the soft skin revealed beneath it. “I like the peasant
skirts, and I love the jewelry. That’s being a woman, nothing to do with my
roots.”
She never
admitted to being a thief. But she’d wanted something in Germany. And that was
what bothered him. What had she wanted and did she want now?
There was
only one way to find out—by staying close to her. “Okay.”
“Okay,
we’re going to be okay? Or okay, whatever you say…?”
“Okay, the
air is clear, and I’ll be watching
you,” he added.

 

She’d said
she wanted to clear the air, but as far as he was concerned, the smoke screen
was thick between them. She had plans for something, and if she wouldn’t talk
to him about it, wouldn’t he be a fool to trust her?
Also Available

 

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$1.99 for a limited time

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Author Bio

 

Beth Rhodes grew up
thinking she was going to travel the world and be a missionary, helping the
poor. She would travel to exciting places…like Russia and Australia. She was
going to wear a canvas backpack and take a wooden raft down a river through the
jungle. She never had any plans for romance or getting married, either. But
after a few years of college, studying English Literature, she married her own
real-life hero, who patiently puts up with her absentmindedness and
creativity… And the only poor babies she helps now are her own six children.
She learned that
life doesn’t always go the way she plans, except for one thing, BOOKS.
Beth writes in order
to share a little love and lots of hope with a hurting world. Find more about
her Online!

 

Author Links

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

Night Shift by Carey Decevito #BookTour @BuoniAmiciPress @ItalRT4u

Title: Night Shift (Night Shade 2)
Author: Carey Decevito
Genre: Contemporary Erotic
Romance/ Romantic Suspense
Release Date: January 9, 2018
Cover Designer: Clarise Tan of CT Cover Creations
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

A serial killer…

A past that haunts no matter how much the distance…

Which one will strike first?

Eighteen deaths over eight years has left Shane Peters itching to find his mark. The death that started it all ensured his obsession with the murderer who had turned his life into a living hell, leaving him to raise a newborn daughter on his own.

Starting over wasn’t the easiest thing, but Emberlyn Roth had managed by shear grit and the skin of her teeth. It’s too bad one can’t outrun their past.

A protector of the wronged, Shane is torn between his duty as a detective for the Jacksonville PD and a quest to find himself some peace. Red tape binds his capabilities and moonlighting as an investigator for Nightshade Securities has him feeling stretched thin. Late nights on the streets and his sense of duty keeps him from being the father he wants to be. Throw onto his already rickety house of cards, an attraction to the mysterious Emberlyn, the lead he’s got on the murderer he’s been hunting for nearly a decade, and threats his woman is receiving by an unsavory character from her past, and he’s seriously tempted to take Dalton Kipper’s offer to join his team in a permanent basis.

Rules have a place, but when you’re faced with losing the one that means most to you, lines can become blurred. With the fate of his family’s future hanging in the balance, he’s ready to risk it all.

Emberlyn

The man’s gaze was intense. “Is everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked him.
“You seemed a little tweaked this morning. I saw you on your front step.”
He made to approach me, which caused me to back up, right into the side of his desk, knocking a slew of papers and the file they’d been tucked into on the floor.
“Shit!”
Hurrying to my knees, I started rallying everything up in a pile when I felt Shane kneeling next to me.
“Let me. You shouldn’t–”
I took a closer look at the shots of random pieces and froze, studying them.
“What? What is it?” he asked. “Do those look familiar?”
“They just remind me of something I once wanted to try and never have,” I told him. “A photographic mosaic.”
His body went rigid. “A what?”
“A photographic mosaic…or photomosaic,” I explained. “It’s when you take different images of the same size and compile them together to make a larger picture. Kind of like a puzzle, because each image has to be in the right color scheme to make the larger image true.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” he asked.
“Well, no,” I said, then inquired further. “How many pieces do you have?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d have to pull my files for the last eight years to know for sure. Do you know how to do these photo…”
“Mosaics?” I supplied. He nodded. “I’ve been wanting to try. Most people do these on computers these days, but I’ve seen them done by hand in a few galleries I’ve visited since I moved here.” I studied the photos closer, then moved to inspect the next one in the pile in my hands, and gasped, dropping everything I held onto the floor.
“Emberlyn,” I heard Shane say, but I was too busy processing the shock of what I saw. “Ember,” he tried again.
“Shane! Ember! Dessert’s ready!” Nora called out, but I couldn’t respond, closing my eyes to try and imagine something beautiful to replace the horror I’d just seen.
“Give us a minute, Mom. We’ll be right in.” I felt his hand grab my chin, gently tilting my head until we were face-to-face. “Look at me, Emberlyn. Look at me right now!”
That worked.
My eyes snapped open, and I realized I wasn’t breathing; the dark spots slowly clouding my peripheral vision.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe with me.” Shane put a hand of mine on his chest, covering it with one of his as his other remained at my chin.
“T-that’s the woman…” I swallowed the bile in my throat. “She was found dead in…Oh God!”
“Don’t talk. Just breathe, baby.”
Something in me snapped, and my body jerked, filling with cold dread and even chillier memories. “Don’t call me that!”
Shane’s grip on me retracted as if I’d touched him with a cattle prod. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t call me that,” I repeated at a whisper. “It’s what he used to call me.”
“Who?”
That’s when I realized I’d said too much.
Jumping to my feet, I backed toward the front of the house, stuttering, “I-I have to go.”
“Wait!”
I shook my head, swallowing what I knew would be my dinner coming up to greet me again. I didn’t want to be here when it did. “I’m sorry. Tell your mom and Rosie thank you.”
Turning, I rushed out of the Peters’ residence as if my hair was on fire, barely making it to my front bushes before my stomach revolted, turning the wonderful dinner that Shane had put together into plant fertilizer.
What I didn’t expect were the steel bands that would come to wrap around me while I sobbed.

Shane

“Is everything okay?” Mom had run into the den as soon as the front door slammed shut. “What happened, where’s Ember?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got to go after her.” I couldn’t explain because I didn’t really know the whole of it myself. “Can you look after Rosie? And don’t let her come in here. I’ll clean this up when I get back.”
She nodded, a distraught expression entering her gaze as she peered at the mess around me. “Okay, baby,” she choked.
I winced. “Mom–”
“Go,” she said. “You need to go. I’ll go check on Rosie.”
Nodding, I hurried out the front door, catching sight of Emberlyn hunched over one of her bushes, her back and shoulders heaving violently.
Fuck!
I didn’t hesitate. Rushing to her, I wrapped my arms around her middle and held on to the sobbing woman, who in turn began to scream like a banshee.
“Let me go! Help! Someone–”
My hand snapped up to cover her mouth, and I bent my head to the bucking woman’s ear. “Shh,” I whispered as she continued to fight me. I got a kick in the shin, causing me to groan. “It’s Shane, Ember. It’s me. I’m here.”
Her body went slack, but shock set in almost immediately and she began shaking like a leaf, her sobs resuming.
“Let’s get you inside, sweetheart.
She didn’t argue. In fact, she didn’t say anything or physically acknowledge me.
Bending down to pick up the tiny purse she’d dropped to the ground, along with her keys, I made to pick her up in my arms.
“I-I can walk,” she said, teeth chattering.
“Okay,” I said softly. “How ‘bout you hold onto me and we’ll take it slow. I’m not liking your color right now.”

I didn’t realize how extreme her fear was until I’d closed the door behind us, and attempted to usher the woman toward where I knew the living room would be, but she shrieked a, “Lock the door!”
After that task was done, we made our way to the couch.
Emberlyn quickly backed into the armrest, curling her knees up to her chin. I grabbed the throw off the back of the sectional and draped it over her.
“Let’s get you a glass of water,” I told her, heading toward the kitchen.
In case you were wondering, this wasn’t my first time inside this house. I’d been here plenty while growing up, but it sure had changed. Emberlyn had put her mark on her grandmother’s old place, and it was a warm and pleasant one with a more modern flare to it. I approved.
Glass in hand, I set to run the water until it was nice and cold, filling it from the tap.
When the floor creaked beneath my feet, Emberlyn jumped, panic in her eyes until they settled on me. She melted into the cushions almost immediately with palpable relief.
She didn’t waste time, grabbing the glass from my hands, chugging its contents immediately. I took the glass from her and settled it atop the one coaster I saw on the coffee table before crouching down in front of her.
“Better?” I asked. She nodded. “Want to talk about it?” She shook her head, no. “Do you want me to leave?” Another shake. This had me standing to sit next to her, but not too close, since I didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she clearly was.
That plan was squashed as soon as my ass met the cushion and she launched herself at me.
“Whoa! Calm down, sweetheart. You’re okay,” I whispered my reassurance into the side of her face, one arm wrapped around her back, her legs over my lap, and the other sifting into her hair. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled the pin that held her hair together, chucking the thing onto the coffee table, and resumed stroking her.
For a long moment, we sat together, neither of us saying a word, when so much remained to be said. Then she opened up.
“He used to call me baby,” she told me what I already knew. “My husband…that’s what he’d call me, when he tried to gain my forgiveness after he’d beat me.” My blood began to simmer. “Trevor and I had a very volatile relationship. I would do everything he asked of me, and he’d never be happy. I learned to be subservient to him early on. Mouthing off only got me punished. So I did what I had to until I could get out. I just didn’t do it fast enough.”
“Sweetheart, I know,” I said against her hair.
“You know?” she whispered, she pulled back so she could look at me, then realization must have hit her. “You’re a cop, of course you’d know.”
“Detective.” I smirked.
Her brown scrunched up. “Huh?”
“I’m a detective. I wouldn’t know about your case, but since my girls have been spending time with you…I just hope you’re not mad that I looked into you.”
“No.” She forced a smile, but it was nice seeing something other than tears in her stormy gray eyes, despite my apprehensiveness to her reaction that I might have overstepped my bounds with her past. “You have a daughter…a family to protect. I’d have done the same thing.” Settling in against my front again, her hand came up to lay on my chest. “Thank you, Shane.”
Swallowing the large lump in my throat, I rasped, “You’re welcome.”
Then silence enveloped us once more—not awkward—comfortable.

Something stirred me awake, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was until I saw a blanket being draped over me.
“I’m awake,” I husked.
“I’m sorry. We fell asleep, and–”
Grabbing her wrist to stay her movements, I did an ab curl to sit up. Emberlyn’s free hand sifted into my hair. She was standing between my legs, looking down as she massaged my scalp. Fuck, it felt good. I closed my eyes to enjoy the intimacy of the moment. So much so that I gripped her hips.
“I should go,” I whispered, my eyes opening to meet hers.
“Yeah.”
“It’s late.”
“Uh-huh.” Her head bobbed up and down with her words.
This made me smirk, and confess. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Rosie’ll need her father tomorrow morning,” she rationalized.
“Fact, but it still doesn’t make me want to go.”
Her smile showed her pleasure at my words. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Pinky swear. Go home, Shane. Your family needs you.”
That had me smirking. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” I pushed her back, so I could get up, I curled my hands around the sides of her face, bending it forward so I could touch my lips to her forehead. “Walk me out?” When my feet hit her front step, I gave her one last assessing gaze.
“I’ll be fine.” She giggled nervously. “Thanks again.”
I smiled, then bent to kiss her cheek. “You’re welcome again,” I whispered, then left, but not before I heard the clicks of her front door locking.

Born and raised in small town Northern Ontario, Canada, Carey Decevito has always had a penchant for reading and writing.

More than a decade later, with weeks of sleepless nights, where exhaustion settled into her everyday existence, she finally gave in and put pen to paper (more like fingers to keyboard!) She submitted to the dreams that plagued her. And the rest, as they say, is history!

A member of the RWA, Carey enjoys spending time with family and friends, the outdoors, travelling, and playing tourist in Canada’s National Capital region. When life gets crazy, this contemporary erotic romance author seeks respite through her writing and reading. If all else fails, she knows there’s never a dull moment with her two daughters, her goofy husband, and cat who she swears is out to get her.

She is the author of both The Broken Men Chronicles and Nightshade series.

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

Want You More by Nicole Helm #BookBlitz @givemebooksblog @KensingtonBooks @nicolethelm

 

Title: Want You More
Series: Mile High Romance
Author: Nicole Helm
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 28, 2017
Blurb
There’s plenty of
gorgeous winding trails leading to Gracely, Colorado. And making your way
around this rugged Rocky Mountain town is how you start over, fix your
mistakes–and find the one person who’ll always have your back . . .
Will Evans works
hard, plays harder–but never gets in too deep. He’ll do anything to keep his
family’s Mile High Adventures business on track and help Gracely recover. One
too many betrayals taught this handsome guide to avoid commitment as expertly
as he negotiates difficult trails and treacherous rivers. But now it’s
impossible for him to play it cool with the one woman he lost–and never
forgot.
Nothing is going to
keep Tori Appleby from starting over right. After a career-ending personal and
professional mistake, she’s back to save the company she helped start. She
needs Gracely’s healing small-town charm–and the caring and help she’s only
found with the Evans family. But she doesn’t need Will trying for a second
chance. Or to risk her heart one more time.
Will won’t commit,
and Tori has a life to rebuild. But to move on, they’ll have to give in to the
irresistible heat between them . . .



 

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Also Available

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

 

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

Author Bio

 

Nicole Helm grew
up with her nose in a book and a dream of becoming a writer. Luckily, after a
few failed career choices, a husband, and two kids, she got to pursue that
dream. Nicole writes down-to-earth contemporary romance. From farmers to
cowboys, Midwest to the West, she writes stories about people finding
themselves and finding love in the process. When she’s not writing, she spends
her time dreaming about someday owning a barn. She lives with her husband and
two young sons in Missouri. She is slightly (okay, totally) addicted to Twitter
(@nicolethelm) and the St. Louis Cardinals. Her website is www.nicolehelm.com.

;

Author Links

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

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon by Julia Kent #SalesBlitz @givemebooksblog @jkentauthor

 

 

Title: Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon
Series: Shopping for a Billionaire #11
Author: Julia Kent
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January 31, 2017

 

Blurb
He is addicted to his phone and his new role as CEO. I’m addicted to
getting some on my own honeymoon.One of these things is not like the other.

I am pretty sure a serial killer’s lair is the only place in the world where I
could stash my new husband so he can’t manage the acquisition of our new
company.

And that seems a little drastic.

But only a little…

All I want is one week alone with him. Hours in bed, legs tangled together in
ecstasy, room service and long walks on the beach in Hawaii.

Not vying for his kisses around a Bluetooth microphone. The Borg aren’t sexy in
real life.

So I’m taking matters into my own hands and hitting “reboot” on our honeymoon.

We’re going to a place so remote that no one can find us.

Not even my mother.

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon is now a full-length book of 150+ pages,
with both Shannon and Declan’s points of view. Originally published with only
Shannon’s viewpoint, this expanded edition is a result of reader feedback.
People wanted to know what Declan was up to – so here you go. This book is
meant to be read after Shopping for a Billionaire’s Wife and/or Shopping for a
CEO’s Fiancée, but if you read it out of order (or even as a standalone),
that’s fine. Shannon and Declan forgive you. 😉 An audiobook version of this
story is also available, featuring Zachary Webber as Declan and Tanya Eby as
Shannon.

 

 

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Author Bio
New York Times and USA
Today
bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge.
Since 2013, she has sold more than 1.5 million books, with 4 New York Times
bestsellers and more than 16 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her
books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing
in 2017. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a
sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon
from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping
her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New
England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is
never, ever, down.

 

Author Links

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

The Little Flame Series by Melissa Lummis #BookBlast @PromoBookTours

The Little Flame Series is COMPLETE! From beginning to end, the story has been told and you don’t have to wait for a thing. And the celebration is going on all summer long!

Only $2.99 for a limited time!

For a limited time you can get the Little Flame Box Set for only $2.99. That’s 5 books for the price of 1!

Get the Box Set HERE

And join the Summer Read-Along HERE for weekly happy hours and chances to win signed paperbacks and cool swag all summer.

In the meantime, enter to win the giveaway below! You could win a Volume 1 set of signed paperbacks, a $25 Amazon Gift card, and a Chakra swag pack. Enter every day until the giveaway ends on August 6, 2017 @ 7:45 PM EST.

Good Luck!

>Fiamette Jurato is on a mission: to fix her broken past. She’s teamed up with the world-famous DJ,
Maximillian, to search for the ex-lover who can help her put all the pieces
back together. There’s only one tiny glitch…he’s been dead for over two
hundred years.

As a healer for all creatures supernatural,
she’s no stranger to navigating the impossible maze of magical complications.
But getting lost in the magic won’t be the problem…finding her way back home
will.

 
Author Melissa Lummis writes new age suspense in a fantasy setting, as well as
steamy romance in almost all its forms.
If you don’t like hot sex scenes, mystery, and
suspense, or you’re easily offended by the occasional strong language or exploring
unconventional ideas, then her books are not for you. Her books include Urban
Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Contemporary Romance. She lives in rural
Virginia with her biker babe husband, two crazy kids, an Alaskan Malamute, and
a myriad of forest creatures. And despite the rumors, she still believes the
universe conspires to help an adventurer.

a Rafflecopter giveawayI 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