Cover Reveal: Getting It Back by Elizabeth Harmon @bookenthupromo #Giveaway

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Book Title: Getting It Back
Author: Elizabeth Harmon
Genre: Contemporary/Sports
Release Date: March 2016
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Book Blurb

In this second-chance romance, a former top men’s figure skating champion is willing to risk everything for a comeback–except a new start with his long lost love.

An unexpected phone call from the man who broke her heart offers Amy Shepherd an opportunity to return to the work she loves, training elite figure skaters. Except it’s just one figure skater: Him. Can she finally forgive and forget?

Figure skater Mikhail “Misha” Zaikov once had it all: medals, money and the adoration of millions. But a devastating injury put an end to his career and his romance, leaving him with nothing but regret over what could have been. His last chance to re-join the world’s top skaters is now. And there’s only one person who can help him: Her.

On Russia’s unyielding ice, Misha must reclaim what he’s lost while facing off against a talented young rival and risking further injury. But Amy soon discovers Misha’s much bigger challenges lurk off the ice. And she’s determined to keep Misha whole and healthy, even if doing so ends his shot at the gold.

Don’t miss any of Elizabeth Harmon’s Red Hot Russians. Pairing Off and Turning it On are available now!

excerpt

What hit him first was the smell of the place. Every rink had it, from the ramshackle Bachatsky Ice Palace where his father had once coached him, to elite facilities catering to the best in his sport. It was a cold musty smell, tinged with sweat and damp rubber that was crisp and exhilarating at the same time. To Misha, there was no better smell in the world.

Boys’ loud voices and the thump of heavy skates pulled from feet and dropped on the rubber-padded floor filled the lobby. Beside the front door was a trophy case filled with hockey hardware, and overhead, more banners celebrated Shackleton hockey. A dark-haired woman wearing a hooded sweatshirt that read “Shackleton Ice Hawks,” came out of the front office.

“Hi Amy, welcome back. Here’s your class roster. And I see you brought a friend.” Her curious gaze lingered on his red skate bag with white Cyrillic lettering. “I’m Margaret Carlson, rink manager.”

“Mikhail Zaikov.”

“Misha’s a good friend, who will be helping demonstrate moves for the class today. He was the men’s bronze medalist in Lake Placid.”

“No kidding? I don’t follow figure skating, but I’m sure the little ones will get a kick out of having him here.” She turned to Misha. “Do you still compete?”

“Retired now, and taking some time to decide what’s next.”

“Know anything about hockey?”

“Some,” he said. It was played on ice, with sticks. That was about the extent of it.

“I’m always looking for officials for our adult leagues, if you’re interested.”

He wasn’t, but smiled and nodded anyway. “Thank you. I will keep it in mind.”

Amy looked over the pink sheet Margaret had handed her. “Fifteen. That’s a big class.”

“A couple of the girls are brand new, but most have some experience and are preparing for one of the Basic Skills tests.”

Beginning skaters typically progressed through a series of levels, though his early training had been much less orthodox. He peered over Amy’s shoulder at the roster. Thought it was sometimes hard to tell with American names, it seemed that all of the students were girls. “No boys?”

“They’re all on this side.” Margaret jerked her thumb toward the right side of the lobby, where hockey players congregated around the large, glassed-in rink. The smaller rink on the left side of the lobby was empty except for the Zamboni resurfacing the ice. “You’ll be teaching over there.”

The left rink felt a bit neglected. There were a few wooden benches rather than bleachers, and the U.S. Figure Skating banner tacked to the opposite wall drooped on one corner. But the Zam had finished its work, and the surface looked smooth. He and Amy set down their skate bags. “At least they don’t make you teach on gouged up ice,” he said.

“They’re nice here, even if figure skating is kind of the red-headed stepchild,” she said, taking a well-worn white skate from her bag, and removing a blue terry-cloth soaker from the blade.

“Nothing wrong with redheads.” He gave her shiny ponytail a playful tug, liking the silky feeling of her hair between his fingers. “Why don’t any boys like to skate?”

“People tend to see figure skating as a sport for little girls. There have been a few boy figure skaters, but they seem to quit by high school. One of the girls in my class is from a family that’s very involved with the rink, and if I recall, one of her brothers was pretty good.”

“And now he plays hockey?”

“Probably.” She laced her boots and took hold of the rink board, bending low to flex her knees and calves. Misha did the same, sneaking glances at the way her stretchy black skating pants clung to her tight little ass, as she went through her warm-up sequence. When she finished, she grabbed her clipboard and glided gracefully out to the center, while Misha remained behind the boards, gazing at the expanse of milky white ice.

The doctors had told him that he could still skate after the surgery, which was true, though not in the way he had. His body moved differently, small pains lasted longer than they ever did before. His reduced flexibility made skating elements that had once come easily much more difficult, and moves he’d struggled with before, he couldn’t get back at all. If only he’d lost the desire as well. But the Lake Placid bronze had only whetted his appetite, and just before the pain became too much to ignore, he’d been skating the best he’d ever skated. Some skaters didn’t reach their potential until well into their twenties, and he felt like he’d been close to reaching his.

Now he’d come full circle, back to being a visitor at an unassuming rink, much like the places Ilya had coached, never lasting long because of the drinking. And the ice was calling to him in a siren’s song he couldn’t ignore. It was time. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the ice.

His right foot detected the familiar slipperiness, and he shifted his weight to middle of his blades, gaining his equilibrium. “Show the ice who is in charge,” his father would shout at him, which was something of a joke, as they both knew. The ice was in charge, and a misstep or badly placed toe pick could trip up a champion as easily as a beginner.

He stroked down the rink’s long edge, knees bending, picking up speed, as he circled the rink, going faster and faster. When he felt comfortable, he leaned into the forward outside edge of his left blade, and swung his right leg back. Launching himself into the air, he spun counterclockwise, one and a half rotations, before coming down in a sure-footed landing, gliding backward on the outside edge of his right foot. The axel was the first edge jump he’d learned and it had always been his favorite. He followed it with standing and sitting spins, and then picked up speed again for more single and double jumps.

Misha felt strong and in control, and he thought about trying a few triples. His body seemed to be crying out for the challenge, but the sight of Amy standing in the midst of her pylons brought him back to the reason he was here. He skated over to join her.

“I knew it,” she said, when he reached her side. “Fifteen minutes on the ice and it’s like you never left. It’s in your blood.”

She was right, of course. Trying to deny this part of himself had been more painful than facing his own limitations, and he was grateful to this beautiful woman for recognizing that the ice was the medicine he really needed. He skated behind her as she traced a serpentine pattern along a blue hockey line, with a thick black marker. “What is today’s lesson?”

“I’ll start by going over basic things like posture and balance for the new girls, but even the more experienced can benefit from practicing. Then I’ll teach glides and stops to the newbies, and I’d like you to work with the girls preparing for their tests on edge rolls, three turns and Mohawks.”

“Will your class have a competition at the end?”

She looked appalled. “Not at this level! That would discourage them. It’s more important that they try their best.”

He grinned. “Which is why Americans learn to feel good about themselves, and Russians learn to be champions. We start competing right from the start.”

Amy frowned. “It sounds cruel if you ask me. I mean, it’s great for the kids who are naturally talented, such as you. But the kids who aren’t, get discouraged.”

“It isn’t cruel. It only gets students used to competing, so it feels natural when they have to do it for real. But this is your rink, and your class, so we do it your way.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You are wrong about one thing, though. I wasn’t always best skater. There were lots of others who had more natural talent. I just wanted it more.”

“Why?”

The question startled him and the answer was far from simple. “Because being best on the ice helped me forget what I didn’t have off it.”

Almost.

Amy skated in front of him, shifting smoothly from her inside to outside edges, as he skated backward, mirroring her movements. Their bodies fell into the mid-tempo rhythm of the pop song playing on sound system, and the music wrapped around their spontaneous dance which felt intimate, though they weren’t even touching. Being on the ice felt right. Being on the ice with her felt more than right. He took her hands, and swung her into a wider curve, his gaze not leaving her face. “How come you never skated with me in Delaware?”

“I was busy.”

He scoffed. “You found time to watch football, which you don’t like, but not to go skating, which you love?”

Amy offered a sheepish smile. “All right, I admit I was intimidated. The only reason I ever told you I’d been a skater, was so you would have confidence in me as an athletic trainer. It wasn’t necessary for you to see me in action.”

“But it would have nice to spend time with you in my favorite place.” He grinned. “One of my favorite places.”

Her laugh echoed crisp cold air. “As I recall, we spent plenty of time in that favorite place.”

Meet the Author

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Quirky settings. Loveable, if imperfect heroines. Gorgeous men with hearts of gold. Contemporary romance author Elizabeth Harmon loves them all.

A graduate of the University of Illinois, she has worked in advertising, community journalism and as a freelance magazine writer. She feels incredibly blessed to have a career that allows her to spend her days imagining “what if?” and a loving family that keeps her grounded in the real world.

An adventurous cook, vintage home enthusiast, occasional actress, and entry-level figure skater, Elizabeth makes her home in the Midwest, where life is good, but the sports teams aren’t. She loves to hang out on her front porch, or at her favorite local establishments, enjoy good food and wine, and talk writing with anyone who will listen.

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

Book Blitz: The Artist by Shealy James #Giveaway @bookenthupromo

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Book Title: The Artist
Author: Shealy James
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 20, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

Katherine “Kitty” Peters is done doing what Daddy says…
When Kitty rebels against her wealthy father, he issues an ultimatum. She has one month to agree with his plans for a suitable marriage, or find her own way without the benefit of all he provides for her. Taking full advantage of those precious weeks, Kitty escapes her suffocating world for a more colorful one…where she meets a tattooed maverick who captivates her with one sexy smirk.
Adam Vaughn doesn’t play by the rules…
His good looks and bad-boy persona always get him what he wants, but he’s also an artist, a painter, and deeply sensitive. Lately, however, only one thing inspires him—the stunning Kitty Peters.
Passion flares, but a family crisis might douse the flame…
Adam needs help, and Kitty’s father has connections. As the end of her month approaches, Kitty’s deal with the devil is far more complicated than simply submitting to her father’s will.
Can she walk away from the man she loves in order to save him from pain?
Even if it means living the rest of her life without him?

excerpt

A bartender sauntered her way over to me almost as soon as I sat down. She was something to look at; that was for sure. Her hair was colored a light blond, almost white, on the top, and black underneath, and her teased-up ponytail displayed that and her neck tattoos perfectly. Her tight black tank top left nothing to the imagination. I figured putting her double Ds out there for everyone to see probably earned her better tips. If I were being honest, my almost B-cups might have been a little jealous that she had that much to display.

“Whatcha drinking?” she asked when she made her way to me.

“Grey Goose and tonic,” I told her and laid a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Keep them coming.”

She looked unruffled by my request and went about making my drink with practiced efficiency. Grey Goose and tonic was my mother’s drink of choice. I knew it had fewer calories than most cocktails, which was the only reason she allowed herself to drink her meals.

The bartender set down my drink and moved on to the next thirsty patron. I hadn’t so much as taken a sip of my drink before I felt a hand on the back of my stool where my coat lay. “You here alone, sweetheart?” a man asked. I could smell the whiskey on his breath and cheap cologne on his shirt.

“Not interested,” I said without turning around.

“Aw, come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, thank you. I have one, and I’m more than capable of buying my own drinks.”

He scoffed at my reply. “No need to be a bitch. No wonder you’re here alone.” I felt his hand move from my chair, and the stench of whiskey and too much spritzing disappeared.

My first drink was quickly emptied and replaced with another, and then another by the booby bartender. She was doing exactly as I asked, so I thanked her politely then turned to take in more of the scene. The crowd was a mix of scantily dressed women and grungy men trying to get laid, to business types in their weekend casual taking advantage of the freedom. It was interesting to say the least.

I was busy watching a short, Italian-looking guy try to pick up what could have been a supermodel when something at the back of the bar caught my eye. I turned fully in my stool to take in the back wall of the bar. It was a mural depicting a band and people dancing. The detail and depth reminded me of Maverick and his coffee shop scene. Suddenly, the music was no longer loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

It occurred to me in my alcohol-infused brain that I no longer had to worry about what my father thought. I could take Maverick up on his offer of lunch now. Hell, I could screw Maverick right here on this bar if I was so inclined, and my father would have no say, because he was writing me off anyway. It was becoming easier by the minute to see the pros of telling my dad to shove it. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but becoming homeless, car less, and fashion less didn’t seem so bad if it meant I could have a little fun with Maverick.

“I guess you found another one,” a familiar deep voice shouted. I turned to find Maverick himself standing on the opposite side of the bar from me as if my dirty thoughts had conjured him up.

“Another what?”

He nodded toward the painting on the back wall.

“Ah. I was wondering.”

He smirked his terribly sexy smirk that made me want to do things to him that were not suitable for public. “Were you now?”

“Yes. The details are similar. The way you make it look like an extension of the room, the timelessness of the people. It’s your style.”

He leaned his elbows on the bar and moved closer to me. My body instinctively matched his position and leaned in as he said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you paid close attention to my mural at the coffee shop.”

“Perhaps,” I responded with a smile.

His smirk disappeared and seriousness replaced the flirtation. “What are you doing here, Duchess? This isn’t your scene.”

I didn’t like where this was going, but Boobs saved me with liquid courage. I picked up my new drink and lifted it in a toast. “Drinking to freedom. What are you doing here? You work here or something?” It was really a dumb question, considering he was behind the bar, but I wasn’t exactly on my A-game right then.

“Or something,” he replied. “How much have you had to drink tonight, Duchess?”

I ignored his faux concern and opted for flirting instead. “I thought we already established my name is Katherine, not Duchess.”

“Okay. Katherine, how much have you had to drink?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not enough. That’s for damn sure.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you,” he said as he took my empty glass and dumped the ice into that secret place behind the bar where bartenders dump the sad leftovers of people’s drowned sorrows and liquid courage. Boobs McGhee brought my next drink to me, but Maverick, the thief, took it from her before she could set it down.

“Hey! That’s mine,” I whined. Boobalicious looked just as surprised, but with one shake of Maverick’s head, she shrugged and moved on to other empty glasses. “I paid good money for that drink you just poured out, Maverick.”

“You’ve had enough, Katherine,” he said sternly. He sounded like my father, and I’d had enough of being told what to do. I had just gotten rid of one controlling man from my life; I didn’t need a replacement.

Teasers

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Meet the Author

Shealy James is a Georgia native who teaches math by day and writes romance at night. As an avid reader, expert on romantic comedy films, and lover of realistic characters who could be her best friends if only they really existed, Shealy appreciates when humor mixes with drama to guide her imaginary friends to their happy endings. And there must always be a happy ending. Shealy openly eats enough candy to feed a small nation, drinks sweet tea by the gallon, hopes to hit 10,000 steps each day, and lives every day with her amazing daughter.

Praise

“Kitty really came into her own as the story unfolded and I was so happy to finally see her take the bull by the horns and make the supreme sacrifice to protect the man she loves.”

  • Kristen Luciani, Author of Unlikely Venture

“I would highly recommend this book. It smashes a lot of the stereotypes we see in life and is ultimately a very brave and inspirational book. Though there were a lot of tough times in the story, it was the message from the whole book that was fab. Such a great read, I finished it in one sitting.”

  • Bri Wignall, Natural Bri – Pursuits of Life Blog

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

Blog Tour: Blue Blooded by Shelly Bell #Giveaway @Tastybooktours @ShellyBell987

Enter to Win a 
BlueFire Digital Download Copy of
RED HANDED (A Benediction Novel)

 

BLUE BLOODED
A Benediction Novel (Part 2)
Shelly Bell
Releasing Oct 13th, 2015
Avon Books
 
In
the next sexy and suspenseful Benediction novel, an investigative reporter and
an ex-soldier witness a murder outside of an exclusive sex club and while on
the run, uncover a deadly conspiracy that begins with mobsters and corrupt FBI
agents… and ends on Capitol Hill.
A woman who refuses to be tied
down…
 
Investigative reporter Rachel Dawson
is always looking for her next big story. While working on a feature about
BDSM, she lands a one-night, no-holds-barred pass into the exclusive sex club,
Benediction. Rachel doesn’t have a deviant bone in her body—or so she
thought—until the infuriating, ex-soldier Logan Bradford convinces her to try
rope bondage under his capable hands. But a steamy night turns deadly when
Rachel and Logan witness a gruesome murder.
A Dom who’s determined to bind her
to him…
 
Framed for a crime they didn’t
commit and hunted by corrupt FBI agents, they flee. As Rachel and Logan search
for evidence to clear their names, the attraction they’ve been fighting ignites
into fiery passion. Love is the last thing Rachel wants, but night by night, as
Logan binds her body, he unravels the knots around her heart. And when they
uncover a shocking political conspiracy, Rachel will stop at nothing to reveal
the truth…and it just might kill her.
 
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A
sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes sensual romance often with a bit of kink and
action-filled erotic thrillers with high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes
and kick-ass heroines.
She began writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the
store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care
of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.

She currently writes for Avon Red Impulse, Loose Id, and Soul Mate Publishing.

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

Systematic Siege: Provocative Tendencies #1 by N. Isabelle Blanco #BlogTour #BEP @Nyddi

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Book Title: Systematic Siege: Provocative Tendencies #1
Author: N. Isabelle Blanco
Genre: Erotica/ Romance/ New Adult
Release Date: 9/18/15
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

He was the player. The most popular guy in highschool. In other words, the stereotypical heartbreaker that every girl died for.

She was one of the nerds. The outcast teased and shunned by the popular kids in school. In other words, him and his crew.

He always wanted her, she just never knew it . . .

In order to maintain his popularity, he buried those feelings deep, deep down in the pit of his miserable little soul.

That is, until one night he lost control.

They both did.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones that knew it. What his friends ended up doing with the knowledge would scar her for the next seven years of her life.

And leave him wrecked, dealing with years of agony because he’d lost her.

Highschool graduation came and went, and they never saw each other again.

Now, seven years later, Andrew’s stepped in and taken his father’s place as CEO of his family’s company, Drevlow Systems, Inc.

Along with the new position comes a host of perks . . . and a brand new systems genius working as the head of his company’s IT department.

An IT genius that just happens to be the one woman he never forgot.

She hasn’t forgotten him or his reputation either and she wants nothing to do with him.

He’s determined to have her—she’s determined to see him burn in hell before that happens.

What ensues takes the term War of the Sexes to a whole new level.

Disclaimer: Systematic Siege: Provocative Tendencies is a series of short stories, each roughly 10,000-15,000 words long, with an estimated final total of nine episodes for the entire series.

excerpt

It’s normal that I want Lexi as much as I do, you know? She’s always been one of the nerds; no living, breathing guy with a functioning dick gives a ****.

Lexi chose early on in the sixth grade to alienate herself from the popular kids in school. Back then, we’d called them every infantile name in the book. Nerds. Losers.

I say “we”, because thanks to my father’s social circle, I’d been drafted into the popular crew the moment I stepped foot in school.

Even back then, Lexi had been adorable. Round, blue-gray eyes. Full pink lips. Those big blond curls falling over her shoulders.

No wonder she grew up into what most guys at school have dubbed “the Destroyer.” Adorable isn’t the only adjective she can proudly claim. Her style isn’t particularly In-Your-Face sexy—something Kaylee and her clique love to tease Lexi about relentlessly—but nothing in the world can hide that type of attractiveness.

It’s blatant. Wild. Leaks into every part of her personality, so that just the sound of her breathing leaves you panting in response.

Watching her walk leaves you a throbbing, pre-coming mess.

Hearing her voice keeps you up all night, jacking off back to back, because you can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to hear her moan your name.

I’m sure you can guess the real reason Kaylee and all her friends despise Lexi. They know damn well that all the guys at school walk around in a haze of sexual fantasies, all thinking about the one girl that doesn’t even try to get their attention.

Nerds, emo-*****, and jocks alike are ready to prostrate themselves at Lexi’s feet, sans clothing, if she would so much as smile in their direction.

Anger sparks at the thought. As always. I can’t deal with that reality. Hate ruminating on how all the other guys want her as much as I do. That shit drives me crazy in ways even my father can’t.

Pushing it all aside, I glance at the purple gift bag I’m holding as I walk into the gym.
It’s Lexi’s eighteenth birthday today.

I never forgot the day her birthday falls on. Not even after we were separated at ten.
I’m early, so I get busy turning on the lights in the back office. I place my book bag on the side table by the couch. Last second, I decide to hide the gift bag on the floor, behind the couch.

I want to surprise her.

Unzipping my bag, I pull out my advanced computer science textbook. Lexi thinks I’m failing that class.

I’m not.

Yes, I lied to her about that. Don’t think I’m not aware that I have more of my father in me than is healthy. Unlike my father, however, I am capable of feeling guilt.
And I do. Every day that she sneaks out of her house to come meet me, because she thinks I’m failing a subject that I’m actually passing.

With honors.

Why did I lie to her?

Why does anyone ever lie? Either because they’re trying desperately to get out of a situation, or because they want something so bad they’re willing to risk that age old threat of eternal hell to get it.

The opportunity presented itself, longing choked the ever-living fuck out of me, and I couldn’t fight the impulse to take it.

For years, I’d watched my old friend from afar, missing her. Knowing what my father had done to her family. I’d just wanted to have the right to talk to her again.

When that aforementioned opportunity popped up, no preternatural, Zeus-gifted willpower could have stopped me from taking it.

The door creaks open out in the hall. “Andrew?”

God—Nature—whatever the ***** is out there—what the hell did you do when you allowed that girl to come into existence?

Ungh, that voice. I freeze on the spot, eyes closing. Hating and savoring the heat that drums through my veins, pounding its way straight to my cock.

Her voice is how I imagine an ancient sex goddess’ voice would’ve been. If this is how the ancient Sumerians imagined that Inanna’s voice sounded, no wonder man eventually rose up and obliterated her legend.

No female, even a mythical one, should be allowed to have so much control over man.
It’s not an exaggeration, either. Every ****** at school goes glossy-eyed whenever Lexi so much as hums near them.

The perfect soft rasp; the epitome of the term “sex voice”. Every time she says my name, I die a little more inside.

“Andrew?”

Shit. I need to hear her moan for me—don’t care if it ends up being the death of me—and I can’t ****** have it.

One day I’m going to snap and take it anyway.

“Andrew, are you here?”

I clear my throat, sitting down on the sofa as fast as I can. My text book gets positioned just right, so that it covers my aching hard-on. “Yeah. I’m in here.”

Jesus, talk about rasps. My voice is straight up laden with sex.

I clear my throat again.

Three deep breaths, and I convince myself that I’m ready to face her. That, although my dick still throbs to the beat of her name, I’m well on my way to getting my reaction under control.

She stops in front of the door.

My entire world grinds to a halt.

Jesus.

Air . . . Can’t breathe . . . Mother****, this hurts.

My.

Fucking.

God.

Son of a bitch.

Shit, I think I’m wheezing.

Legs.

Those breasts.

That hair.

The eyes.

Red lips.

Lexi all dolled-up—no, fuck that, sexed-up.

Like I’ve never seen her before.

It’s the hardest blow of my life.

And, it’s the exact moment in time I realize that girl has to be mine.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it ends up costing me.

Mine.

Teaser

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Meet the Author

N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

N. Isabelle Blanco spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn’t handling her “spawn”, as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.

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

Book Blitz: Happiness in Jersey (The Prototype Series) by Jacinta Howard #Giveaway @bookenthupromo

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Book Title: Happiness in Jersey (The Prototype Series)
Author: Jacinta Howard
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: August 29, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

The only thing in Jersey Kinkaid’s world that she has time for are keeping her grades up so that she doesn’t lose her scholarship to South Texas University, playing the bass in her band, The Prototype, and satisfying her coffee addiction. Oh, and the occasional random hook-up she indulges in to pass the time.

Love? Eh, not so much. Save that crap for a Katherine Heigl or Natalie Portman movie.

Jersey’s seen enough in life (courtesy of her Pops) to realize that undying romance is nothing more than a myth used to sell books and movie tickets. As she knows too well, the only thing inevitable in life is death— love is definitely not promised.

That’s why when Jersey meets Isaiah “Zay” Broussard with his soulful gray eyes, quick wit and easy charm, she’s determined to remain aloof. She doesn’t have time to get sidetracked by fleeting fantasies, even if she does feel an unexplainable connection to Zay she’s never experienced before.

But when his interest in her only seems to intensify, despite her attempts to brush him off, she gets to see a side of him and herself she didn’t expect…

excerpt

“So those are the only relationships you’ve had? Purely platonic or purely sexual?”

“Yeah.”

“And having purely sexual relationships… it’s worked for you? You’ve never wanted more?” He glanced at me, arching his brow.

“No,” I answered immediately, truthfully. “I’ve never really been with anyone that I actually wanted in that way. And that obviously works for most guys. It’s not like they’re interested in exploring the depths of my soul or anything. And the few that pretend they are, I just cut them off because I don’t have time for bullshit and I know they’ll lose interest as soon as the next pretty or sexy or whatever girl comes along.”

His eyes remained on the road, his expression still stoic.

“Sex is just… a release,” I said with finality.

He shook his head slowly and looked over at me.

“Nah, Kitten. I don’t think that’s true. At all.”

I rolled my eyes. “So you’ve been in love before, I take it?”

He was watching the road again. “Yeah.”

“More than once?”

“Just once,” he said, glancing at me.

It wasn’t my style to ask what she was like and her name and all of that. I never cared enough to go on trips down memory lane with guys. I also never cared enough to get a knot in my chest at the mention of a girlfriend, or former love either, like the one that had quickly formed just now.

“And I take it you had earth-shattering, soul piercing sex with her?” I observed, more than asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. I’d been looking out of the window when I asked the question and I glanced at him. He shook his head, grinning at me slightly.

“I’ve had meaningful sex, yeah.” He looked back toward the road. “I’ve also had meaningless sex. So I know the difference. I know which one is infinitely better.”

I stared at him, anger rising in my chest.

“You trying to lecture me?” I asked coolly.

He glanced at me and shook his head. “I’m not in the position to lecture anyone, Jersey,” he said with a humorless chuckle, “trust me.”

He turned his attention to the road again. “I’m just saying that you should open yourself up to the idea that sex can mean more than just lust or a quick release with the right person. It can be a physical extension of the love you have for that person. And that can definitely be incredible.”

His voice had dropped an octave as he looked at me and I shifted in my seat. He finally released my gaze and concentrated on the road.

“Every relationship isn’t bad, Kitten. Every relationship has things you have to work on and deal with—that’s just life. But with the right person, all of that is worth it.”

He paused, his eyes still fixed on the highway, his expression serious. “Tomorrow isn’t promised to any of us. Relationships with other people are what makes life, life. The in between stuff? That’s really the best part.”

He glanced at me again and I released a breath. I still didn’t believe him, but he seemed to believe what he was saying, which I respected.

I reached forward and turned on the radio. We were in the middle of Texas, so of course, the stations were mostly country. The Civil Wars’ “Poison and Wine” came leaking through the speakers, filling the car with its haunting but serene melody. I was surprised when Zay started absently singing the words, although I don’t know why. I joined him on the chorus and he looked over at me, giving me another one of his slow grins.

I smiled and looked out of the window, letting the wind caress my fingertips as I closed my eyes, his earlier words swirling in my mind.

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Meet the Author

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Jacinta Howard is the author of new adult and contemporary romance with a real-life edge. Since 2014, she’s released three novels, including the well-received Love Always Series which includes the titles Better Than Okay, More Than Always and Less Than Forever. She also released the USA TODAY Must-Read Romance, Happiness in Jersey.

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Praise

“Happiness In Jersey by Jacinta Howard is a hip, emotional story that belongs on the shelves with other popular New Adult romances. Thanks to Jacinta Howard’s skill in making Jersey and the rest of the cast colorful and solid, the story is full of flavor, while offering a mix of life lessons to ponder long after reading.”

–USA TODAY

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

Blog Tour: The Best Worst Mistake by Lia Riley #Giveaway @Tastybooktours @LiaRileywrites

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Digital Download of RIGHT WRONG GUY
Brightwater Book Two
BEST WORST MISTAKE
Brightwater #3
Lia Riley
Releasing Oct 20th, 2015
Avon Impulse
The
third sexy and emotional novel in debut Avon author Lia Riley’s Brightwater
series set in the mountains of Northern California
Sometimes
the worst mistakes turn out to be the best…
Smoke jumper Wilder Kane once
reveled in the rush from putting out dangerous wildfires. But after a tragic
accident, he’s cut himself off from the world, refusing to leave his isolated
cabin. When a headstrong beauty bursts in, Wilder finds himself craving the
fire she ignites in him, but letting anyone near his darkness would be a
mistake.
After her Hollywood life went up in
smoke, Quinn Higsby decided to leave Tinseltown behind and returned to
Brightwater to care for her ailing father. Spending her days in a small
bookstore, her peaceful existence is up-ended by a fascinating but damaged man.
Quinn is determined to not to be scared off by Wilder, not once she’s
experienced the heat of his passions.
But when an arsonist targets the
community and Wilder is accused, he must confront the ghosts of his past. Will
his desire for Quinn flameout or will he be able to tame the wildness inside
and rekindle a hope for their future
?
 
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Lia Riley writes offbeat
New Adult and Contemporary Adult romance. After studying at the University of
Montana-Missoula, she scoured the world armed only with a backpack,
overconfidence and a terrible sense of direction. She counts shooting vodka
with a Ukranian mechanic in Antarctica, sipping yerba mate with gauchos in
Chile and swilling XXXX with stationhands in Outback Australia among her
accomplishments.
A British literature fanatic at heart, Lia considers Mr. Darcy and Edward
Rochester as her fictional boyfriends. Her very patient husband doesn’t mind.
Much. When not torturing heroes (because c’mon, who doesn’t love a good
tortured hero?), Lia herds unruly chickens, camps, beach combs, daydreams about
future books, wades through a mile-high TBR pile and schemes yet another trip.
Right now, Icelandic hot springs and Scottish castles sound mighty fine.

 

 
 
Check out the other books in the Brightwater Series
 
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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl