Brother in Arms by A.J. Downey #CoverReveal @MJsBookBlognR

.•*¨¸.•*´¨
¸.•´. COVER REVEAL

Brother in Arms (The Sacred Brotherhood Book III)

by A.J. Downey

Release Date: TBD

Cover designed by: Dar Albert from Wicked Smart Designs

#SHMC  #AJDowney  #Romance #MC

Rush had
always been the brother that was the most up for adventure. Then
Grinder died and he realized that it was time to slow down. Fast-forward by a
year and more and his older brother Archer had found Mel. Hell, his own twin
was with a woman of his own! Rush is starting to get restless again, which was just
perfect. Cue a string of anonymous hook-ups and one night stands. It was enough
to feed the restlessness for a while, then an adventure of sorts came a callin’
by way of the VP’s estranged aunt and the President’s sister-in-law.
Her
daughter was in need of some kind of white knight, which Rush could care less
about, but the white knight routine did come with a pretty big perk.
It would mean that he got to go back to a job that had, once upon a time, felt
like a calling.
Of
course, nothing was ever easy where Rush was concerned, especially when he
actually set eyes on the damsel in distress. One, she wasn’t some paper
princess, and two, she definitely didn’t want him around. After all, one-night
hook-ups were supposed to be just that… one and done.

 

 

In The Series

 

Brother
to Brother: The Sacred Brotherhood Book I

 

 

 

Melody Beswick thought she was
bringing herself and her thirteen month old son home to his father. It was her
last ditch effort to make a better life for her and her boy. One in which Noah
had a father to look up to and guide him. While she knew Grinder wasn’t perfect,
she believed in him, and love always found a way, right?Melody never thought her dreams for herself and her son could twist into such
nightmares, and that it was so true, the old adage, that the road to hell is
paved with good intentions. She’s about to find out that another adage is true,
that sometimes it’s better the devil you know, when instead of finding Grinder,
it’s his cold and critical brother Archer at the end of her long drive that she
must contend with.

With no other options, and no place else to go, Melody is about to make a deal
with this devil that she can’t refuse. Who knew it could, quite possibly, be
the best decision she’s ever made?

http://getbook.at/B2B-SB1
Her
Brother’s Keeper: The Sacred Brotherhood Book II
Fate introduces people at both
the right and the wrong times…

 

So it is for Maren on the
absolute worst day imaginable. When all hope was gone, and she was whittled
away to little more than tears and despair, up walks Nox, an unlikely hero to
save the day. Maren is about to discover that sometimes the good guys wear
black, and there are times that the lines between good and evil blur beyond
recognition.

 

Nox is a bad man with a heart of
gold, or so it seems. It also seems that Maren has captured that heart with her
wide, tear filled brown eyes. Nox never saw himself going for jailbait before,
but that’s just what Maren is, all woman trapped in a seventeen year old package.
Still, what he wouldn’t do for her, including taking on the unlikely role of
keeper to her unruly preteen brother.

 

This mess could end beautifully
or in some serious time spent behind bars for Nox, but sometimes, it’s worth
risking it all.

 

http://getbook.at/HBK-SB2

 

A.J.
Downey is a born and raised Seattle, WA Native. She finds inspiration from her
surroundings, through the people she meets and likely as a byproduct of way too
much caffeine.
She has
lived many places and done many things though mostly through her own
imagination… An avid reader all of her life it’s now her turn to try and give
back a little, entertaining as she has been entertained.
Media
Links

 

 

If
you want the easy button digest, as well as a bunch of exclusive content you
can’t get anywhere else, sign up for her mailing list right here.

 

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

Explosive Element by Trinity Rose #CoverReveal @EJBookPromos

Title: Explosive Element
Series: Men of Elite Securities Book 2
Author: Trinity Rose
Genre: Contemporary Romance


CALEB 

Rule 1. Keep them alive at all costs.
Rule 2. Never get attached.
Rule 3. Never under any circumstances kiss them. 

After Mara was killed, I internalized these rules, branded them to my heart and brain. That is until a saucy vintage shop owner sashayed her curvy ass in front of me, obliterating my carefully constructed set of rules. Now that I’ve had a taste of what heaven she can offer me, I do the only thing I can…leave. 

Forced back in her stratosphere, she’s moved on…or so I thought. Somebody is targeting her, terrorizing her, trying to hurt her. So, my rules have changed. 

Rule 1. Protect her at all costs. 
Rule 2. Assimilate myself into all aspects of her life 
Rule 3. Make her mine

 

Jamie Cercone is a mild mannered wife, mother and RN by day. Loved by her husband David and her two children. By night; she’s a naughty, erotica romance writer Trinity Rose. She hoards books, purses, shoes and Urban Decay. She lives with her family in the southern tier of New York

HOSTED BY:

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

THE TICK TOCK MAN by R.M. Clark #CoverReveal @vandalrmc #FridayReveals #Month9Squad #Month9Books



Today R.M. Clark and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for THE TICK TOCK MAN which releases May
2, 2017! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers
to receive a eGalley!!


A quick note from the author:

 

 


The Tick Tock Man is my
first foray into the world of speculative fiction. Here in New England, we are
fortunate to have many wonderful clocks around. We have clocks in church
steeples, parks, above banks and other locations. My idea for this story came from
a simple “what if”. What if there were a community of “clock
people” who kept all these great clocks running? Furthermore, what could
go wrong? Then I made something go wrong and the story “clicked.” The
Tick Tock Man takes place primarily in this fictional clock world, but the
issues, conflicts and resolutions are not unlike those in the real world.

 

 
Title: THE
TICK TOCK MAN
Author: R.M. Clark
Pub. Date: May 2, 2017
Publisher: TantrumBooks
Format: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 237
Find it: Goodreads
|
Amazon | B&N | TBD
When the clocks in town stop,
thirteen-year-old CJ discovers an unusual “clock world” where most of
the citizens are clock parts, tasked with keeping the big clocks running. But
soon the seemingly peaceful world is divided between warring factions with CJ instructed
to find the only person who can help: the elusive Tick Tock Man.

With the aid of Fuzee, a partly-human
girl, he battles gear-headed extremists and razor-sharp pendulums in order to
restore order before this world of chimes, springs, and clock people dissolves
into a massive time warp, taking CJ’s quiet New England town with it.

 

Excerpt

Chapter OneSomething wasn’t right.

I’d planned on sleeping in Thanksgiving morning because, hey, it was Thanksgiving, and that meant no school and no stupid alarm to wake me up. Well, that was the plan.

At precisely eight a.m., the clock sitting a mere two feet from my head wailed.

Thunka thunka thunka thunka.

Stupid clock. That wasn’t even a real alarm sound. It was just an invented strange noise to annoy me. I checked the buttons on top. No alarm set and no radio. Maybe it was a dream? Just to be sure, I gave the clock a good whack.

All was well. Back to sleep.

Bonka bonka bonka bonka.

Now it was nine o’clock. I sat up and grabbed the clock with every intention of tossing it against the back wall. What a pleasure it would have been to see it smash into a million pieces. I win!

But, this clock was a birthday present from Uncle Artie. He’d said it was “a special clock for a special kid.” I didn’t like being called “special” because that had a different meaning at school. But it was a cool clock.

Until now. I mean, what kind of noise was that? Certainly not the alarm sound I was used to.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t help but wonder what crazy not-real-clock noise Uncle Artie’s “special” clock would make next. So I got out of bed.

Since it was Thanksgiving, I was not at all surprised to see my mom up and in the kitchen. The turkey was on the counter in a large pan. Her arm was halfway up the turkey’s you-know-what. Not what I wanted to see this early in the morning, thank you very much.

“Good morning,” Mom said. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I wanted to mention the special-but-stupid clock that made strange noises at weird times, but she had grabbed another handful of stuffing and stuffed it “up there.”

“We’ll need a few guest chairs from the basement when you get a chance. Nana and Papa are coming over, of course. Plus Grandma and Grandpa Boyce. And Uncle Artie too.”

“Sure thing, Mom.” I was barely awake and she was already asking me to do math. Nobody was coming over for quite a while, so I wouldn’t need the, let’s see, two-plus-two-plus-one chairs for several hours. I had tons of time.

What better way to spend it than on the couch watching TV? It would probably be the most fun I would have all day, with both sets of grandparents coming over. It was annoying enough that they had different titles: “Nana and Papa” on the Barnes side, “Grandma and Grandpa” on the Boyce side.

Then there was Uncle Artie. He wasn’t really an uncle but that’s what we always called him. I’ve also heard him called a “distant cousin,” whatever that means. He said his job as an “importer” took him around the world to some pretty exotic places such as Vienna and Timbuktu and South America. No matter what faraway land he went to, he almost always brought us back a clock. We had wooden clocks, metal clocks, cuckoo clocks, and some that were just too odd to describe. Mom would open a package from him and say, “Hey, look. It’s a clock. Imagine that.”

Each clock came with a wonderful story, so my parents loved to get them for just that reason. Unfortunately, both of them hated having all those clocks, with their constant ticking and chiming, so we kept them stashed away in the spare room upstairs until Uncle Artie came to visit. And since he was on his way, I sat up, knowing what was coming next. In three … two … one.

“CJ! Your Uncle Artie’s coming over, so you’ll need to set the clocks out.” Mom could sure belt it out when she needed to.

I knew the drill. I went to the spare room, pulled the special box out of the closet, and lugged it down the stairs. The crescent moon clock went in the living room, replacing a family portrait, which was fine with me since I looked like a dork in that picture, anyway. There was a special cuckoo clock for the bathroom that was pretty cool. The doors on the upper level opened at the top of the hour, revealing either a boy dancer or girl dancer. I set the correct time and adjusted the weights at the end of a long chain to keep the gears going. Six clocks later, I had completed the task, finishing it off in Dad’s basement shop with a clock made from a circular saw blade.

Uncle Artie’s favorite saying was, “You can never have too many clocks.” On this Thanksgiving Day, it was certainly true, even though I was sure my parents would disagree. Not me. Although I never paid a lot of attention to the clocks, I felt something strange as I took each one from the box and hung it in its rightful spot. The crescent moon clock had two huge eyes, one on the crescent side and the other on the orange side that completed the circle. The eyes were painted on but I swear they followed me as I moved around the room.

I double-checked the time on the cuckoo clock in the bathroom and admired the details in it. The entire clock was a house from a German village, with people dressed in lederhosen on the lower level. Lucky for me it was the top of the hour and the clock chimed, revealing the bird from a door at the top and children dancing in the two small doors just below it. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? What awesome detail!

I completed the clock replacement task, storing the non-clock items in the same box and returning it to the spare bedroom. That practically wore me out, so it was back to the couch. The smell from the great stuff Mom was cooking drifted into the room, reminding me I hadn’t eaten yet.

“I made you some scrambled eggs.” Mom smiled as I entered the kitchen.

“Thanks. I’m starving.”

She held out a plate then pulled it back, still smiling. “Just as soon as you bring up the chairs from the basement.”

This wasn’t fair, but it was the second time she’d asked. The third time would not be as charmed. On my way to the basement, I realized my early morning math was wrong. There were four chairs already in the dining room, so I only needed four more. I could easily get them all in one trip.

I passed Dad’s shop right at 10:30 and the heard the blade clock begin to make noise. I turned on the shop light to get a good look and, sure enough, the blade was slowly turning. Clockwise, not surprisingly. Even stranger was that the numbers never moved as the blade turned. A few seconds later, it stopped and went back to normal. Another clock I had never paid much attention to was suddenly freaking out. I hurried back upstairs with two chairs on each arm.

I got my scrambled eggs, finally.

***

At 11:00, things got even weirder. Dad was up by now, sitting in front of his computer, but that wasn’t the weird part. When the hour struck, the crescent moon clock made a strange clicking noise, and those crazy eyes began to wink at me. The painted-on lips between the four and eight went from a Mona Lisa smile to a full-blown grin. I wanted to say something to Mom or Dad, but who would believe me? I went into the bathroom, and the boy and girl dancers in the German village twirled next to each other while the bird stayed home. This was quickly moving into “bizarre” territory. It didn’t help when my watch—another gift from Uncle Artie—started chiming a sound I had never heard before. I took it off and stuffed it in my pocket. Problem solved.

***

I played video games in the back room, trying my best not to look at or listen to any of the suddenly crazy clocks in the house. It was working too, as I finished off another level of Mortal Warfare IV.

“CJ,” my mom called. “Please set the table.”

“Okay. Just one more level.” I sat up as the battle intensified.

“Now would be better. They’ll be here in less than an hour to watch the football game.”

“I’m on it.” I made it past the gatekeeper to complete the level, which allowed me to save my spot in the game.

I grabbed plates and set them out on the table. I took one plate and placed it on the TV tray next to the window. That’s where I would sit. The rule was: adults at the big table and kids somewhere else. Sometimes it was a card table when my cousins showed up. Since I was the only kid this year, I would have to settle for a TV tray.

My mom’s cell phone rang, and she talked with the phone squeezed against her shoulder as she mixed something in a large bowl. She stopped mid-mix and put the bowl down. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her voice was all serious. She walked out of the room before I could hear any more of it.

I returned to my table-setting duties, grabbing forks, knives, and napkins. The smell of turkey and all the fixings hit me hard as I placed the silverware around the table. Maybe all this work would be worth it. I took another whiff. Maybe.

Mom returned to the kitchen, put the phone down, and stopped stirring.

“Mom, you okay?”

She looked up at me with moist eyes. “Uncle Artie is in the hospital and can’t make it for Thanksgiving. He hasn’t missed one since your dad and I have been married.” She dabbed her eyes with her apron. “Fortunately, it’s nothing serious and my parents are heading there right now, so they can’t make it until the weekend. I’d better go tell your father. Looks like we’ll only need five plates at the table.”

No Nana and Papa Barnes? No Uncle Artie? I truly hoped Uncle Artie was okay, but this was my big chance to sit at the head of the table, something I’ve always wanted to do. The head chair was bigger and had arms, and it felt like a throne. Uncle Artie always got the honors while I was stuck with the TV tray under the window.

I followed Mom out to the garage where Dad was cleaning out the van, getting it ready for our traditional late-afternoon drive. Dad didn’t seem too bummed to hear the news about Uncle Artie or his in-laws. He barely looked up as he polished the dashboard. “Yeah, well, sorry to hear about Uncle Artie. He’s never down for very long.”

The time was right to pounce. “Mom? Dad?”

Dad turned toward me and nearly bumped his head on the visor. “Yes?”

“I wish Uncle Artie was coming today, I really do.” I tried my best to act like I was crying. It must have worked because I felt my throat tightening. “His are some tough shoes to fill, but I bet he’d want me to sit in his spot at the head of table. After all, he gave me this watch for my birthday last year.” I pulled it out of my pocket to show them. “And we have the same middle name and everything.” I, Carlton James Boyce, was merely guessing at his middle name, hoping neither of my parents knew the truth. “Please? I think I’ve earned it.”

Neither of them thought about it for too long. “It’s all yours, kid,” Dad said as he leaned on the roof of the van.

“Remember your manners at the table,” Mom said. “Uncle Artie would want it that way.”

Manners? Oh, please. Uncle Artie smoked a lot, drank a lot, and sometimes swore a lot. In spite of all that, he was my favorite relative. Over the years, besides the watches and clocks, he had given me several toy cars, baseball cards, stuffed animals, and even a five-dollar bill. These gifts were always “our little secret.” Plus, he told the greatest stories.

Grandma and Grandpa Boyce arrived a little later, and each gave me a quick hug. It’s a terrible thing to say, and I know I’m supposed to love my grandparents without question, but Mom’s parents—the “good ones” who actually liked me—weren’t coming. If Mom and Dad ever found out I felt that way, I’d be grounded for a month—Dad’s typical punishment.

Dad and Grandpa went to the living room to watch the game while the women got the food prepared. I tried to help, but I mostly got in the way.

Everything was ready just before two o’clock, and I grabbed the spot at the head of the table, with Grandma and Grandpa to my right and Mom and Dad to my left. Everyone sat down except Grandpa. He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward my dad.

“I guess this doesn’t rate as a special occasion, eh, George?”

“How’s that, Pop?” Dad said.

“The Hoffhalder. It’s a Thanksgiving tradition, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is.”

The Hoffhalder was a large mantle clock that sat in the corner of the dining room on what mom called the buffet. The Hoffhalder had been in the family for decades, and Dad would only wind it on special occasions. Uncle Artie always had the honors when he came over.

“I’ll do it, Dad,” I said.

“Can he handle it?” asked Grandpa. “He’s just a child.”

I’m right here! I thought. And I’m not a child anymore. I’m thirteen.

“Sure he can,” Grandma said. “Now, make Uncle Artie proud.” She gave me her patented don’t-screw-it-up look.

“CJ, just be careful, okay?” Dad said.

“Sure thing.” I had seen it wound a thousand times. I took the key from the drawer of the small desk nearby, carefully opened the glass in front, and put the key in the keyhole near the number four. There was another near the number eight. I knew it wound clockwise on the right and counterclockwise on the left.

“Whatever you do, don’t overwind it,” Grandpa said. He gave anyone who ever got near the clock got the same warning.

I started winding. One turn. Two turns. Then it started to get tight, so I stopped. I placed the key in the left hole and began to turn in the other direction with my left hand. One turn. Two turns. It wasn’t getting any tighter. Three turns. That was odd; it usually tightened up by now, but I figured it had just been a while. Four turns and still not tight. I switched to my right hand to finish it up. Five turns. Surely it would start to get tight. Then I heard a faint click, and the key wouldn’t move anymore. Uh-oh.

“Everything all right?” Dad asked.

I pulled the key out and put it back in the drawer. “Everything’s great.” I looked at my watch, and then spun the Hoffhalder’s minute hand around until the time was five minutes until two. After closing the glass, I gently moved the large pendulum at the bottom, and the Hoffhalder began to tick. Whew! All was well.

When the Hoffhalder chimed, it made a beautiful sound. In fact, it seemed to be the only clock sound my family liked. It was a perfect combination of bells and gears and springs working in harmony. We now had three minutes until it would chime on the hour, and everyone at the table waited patiently for the moment to arrive. As the last thirty seconds ticked off, Grandpa nudged Grandma. “Here it comes,” he said in a low voice.

The Hoffhalder struck two and began to chime. Once. Then another.

But the second chime lingered way too long and the pendulum began to swing wildly, knocking into the side walls. The chime sound turned into a grinding noise, and the pendulum stopped.

“CJ!” Dad yelled. “What have you done to my clock?”

“He overwound it,” Grandpa said while making a turning motion with hand.

“Clearly,” said Grandma. “And I’ll bet Uncle Artie is rolling over in his grave as we speak.”

“Artie’s not dead,” Mom said. “Just in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry, everyone,” I said. “I didn’t mean to. Honest. It was an accident.”

“You’re grounded,” Dad said.

“For how long?” I asked.

“A month.”

“A month? Mom?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” she said.

I looked around the table, and three sets of eyes were on me. Mom reached out and touched my hand. At least someone was on my side.

“That clock’s been in the family for four generations,” Grandpa said. “Built by the finest clockmaker in Germany.”

“And smuggled out on a steamer ship during World War I,” Grandma added. “Truly one of a kind. Irreplaceable.”

I knew the details by heart, and it just made matters worse. “I’ll get it fixed, okay? I have some money saved up.”

“Sounds like you snapped the mainspring,” Grandpa said, adding a “break in half” motion with his hands.

Grandma leaned over and got as close to me as she could. “It’ll never be the same.”

“A month,” Dad said. He put a finger in my face to make his point. “For breaking my clock.”

He continued to glare at me as Mom began to serve the turkey. We ate in near silence.

I had ruined Thanksgiving.

 

 
R. M. Clark is a computer scientist for
the Dept. of Navy by day and children’s book writer by night. He lives in
Massachusetts with his wife and two sons.

Website
|
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3 winners will receive an eGalley of THE
TICK TOCK MAN. International.

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

DEAR AGONY by Georgia Cates#CoverReveal @TastyBookTours @GeorgiaCates

Tasty Book Tours Presents….

 

DEAR AGONY
Georgia Cates
Releasing March 1st, 2017

Dear Agony,
 
You’ve been
my shadow, following me through childhood—filling my days and nights with
terror and uncertainty. You cleverly disguised yourself as some form of pain or
suffering as I grew into a young woman. We were unwavering companions … until I
severed our ties.

I traded homelessness on the streets of New Orleans for a luxurious bed covered
by the finest linens.
I traded
dumpster diving for dinner in the finest restaurants.
I traded
myself to a stranger—Bastien Pascal.
I have a
good life within my platonic and mutually beneficial companionship with Bash.
He’s my
friend. My mentor. My roommate.
Until
everything changes.
I’m not
supposed to get goosebumps when his hand brushes my skin.
I’m not
supposed to be eager for his soothing touch following one of my nightmares.
I’m not
supposed to think about what might happen if I reached out to him in the
darkness.
Falling in
love with him? Preposterous . . . unavoidable.
Agony, why
are you back with a vengeance to rob me of this life I’ve come to love so
dearly?
I’m finally
happy. Don’t ruin this for me.
 
Always
yours,
Rose
 
In this
epic love story, Dear Agony forges a connection between an unlikely pair—a
beautiful rose entwined in barbed wire and a shipwreck sinking into the darkest
depths of the ocean. This agonizing romantic novel poses some gut-wrenching
questions: What does a woman do when the man she loves is planning his own
demise? And how far will she go to give him something to live for?

Bastien wasn’t lying. The man snores. Loudly.

I was awake for hours after he came to my bed. I had far too many thoughts whirling around in my head to doze off.

I’m proprietor of a sadness I hold so tightly, it’s penetrated my very being. It has wrapped itself around my heart in the form of barbed vines, warning people away. I’m buried chest deep in filth—the filth of my vile past. I’m the captain and my pain is forever my first mate.

I wake to find myself held by his strong arms. Encased in his comforting touch. Strangely, even though I’m clinging tightly to the arm wrapped around my waist, I feel . . . safe in the arms of a man. This man. It’s a first for me.

Bastien is still sleeping, his snoring proof he is unaware of our entanglement. I’m glad. I want to savor this close encounter for a while longer before I pull away.

I steal this moment like a thief, permitting myself to study his face and body without his knowledge.

His chest under my head is hard, as is his stomach beneath my hand. There’s sparse hair between his pec muscles but he has a small patch on his abdomen trailing down into the front of his pants.

I gently lift my head so I can see his face. Long, thick, dark lashes rest against his lower lids. Strong, square jawline—covered in dark whiskers, and a few sparse silver here and there, a little thicker this morning than last night. A tiny dimple in the center of his chin. Full, pink lips with a deep cupid’s bow. Straight nose, slightly asymmetrical to the right side of his face. Hmm … I haven’t noticed that until now. I bet it’s been broken. Probably playing football.

Even in sleep, Bastien’s face doesn’t completely relax. His brow remains wrinkled, the shallow crowfeet around his eyes slightly crinkled.

Lines and all, he’s handsome. Extremely so.

And stirring.

I quickly pull away and roll onto my side, my back turned to him before he fully awakens. I don’t want that awkward moment of waking and coming to face to face, forced to discuss what led him to my bed last night.

Minutes later, there’s a brief dip in the mattress and then I hear the soft click of my bedroom door closing.

He’s gone without a word.

I roll to my back and run my hand along the spot where he was lying. Still warm. Scooting closer, I press my nose into his pillow. Mmm. Woodsy. Earthy spice. Masculine.

Savoring the warmth and smell that remains in my bed after Bastien’s departure is something I shouldn’t enjoy … but I do. Very much.

Liking these things isn’t part of our agreement.

Bastien has clearly stated he doesn’t want a romantic relationship. In fact, he’s very much against it, especially with someone my age. And I refuse to ruin what we have. I like him. I think we can be very good friends.

 

Georgia Cates resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her music and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.

 

 

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

The Beauty (The Beauty & The Thief Series) by Ashlee Taylor #CoverReveal @AuthorAshleeT @bookenthupromo

COVER REVEAL

The Beauty

Book Title: The Beauty (The Beauty & The Thief Series)
Author: Ashlee Taylor
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: January 30, 2017
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Goodreads Button with Shadow

book blurb

Art Gallery owner Emmeline Billings vowed to keep her parents legacy alive by helping struggling artists.

Having lived a shell of a life since their passing she finds her true self when other family members show their true colors threatening what she’s built.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the thief in the night.

Sebastian Stuart has lived a life in the shadows. He’s watched Emmeline from those shadows grow into a beautiful woman.

Seeing her living a shell of herself, he’s determined to help her. Sebastian re-enters her life when he can no longer stand by and watch.

He does the only thing he knows how to do – steals her heart.

excerpt

Prologue

Sebastian

The doorbell rang and the noise resounded through the whole house, I cringed knowing that soon I’d have to be polite and presentable to my parents’ friends. I knew they had a little kid, a girl with a weird sounding name. I just hope she didn’t cry and whine as much as my friend’s little brothers and sisters do.

“Sebastian, can you come down now? Our guests have arrived.” Mom called out and I groaned.

Throwing down the controller of my video game, I trudged down the steps venting my anger with every movement.

“Here he is, Sebastian my boy.” Dad said, his arm outstretched pulling me into a hug. “Sebastian, these are our dearest friends, Cecile and Ezra Billings and their daughter Emmeline.”

“Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Oh Sebastian, you’ve grown up so much since we saw you last, I believe you were our Linnie’s age.” Mrs. Billings commented and I smiled.

“Linnie, darling, this is Sebastian. Can you say hi to Sebastian?”

A little tiny head poked from behind Mr. Billings, a big mess of brown curls came flopping out. Her face lit up as she saw me, as if I was something she’d never seen before. Her eyes were big and the weirdest color I’d ever seen, purple I think. When she stepped around to stand in front of me, I looked down at this little person while she just stared at me.

“Hi Assin.” She said with a wave, causing my parents and hers to laugh.

“Sebastian.” I said. “My name is Sebastian.”

“Assin.” She exclaimed before throwing her arms up in the air and hugging my legs.

“Aww, she likes you Sebastian.” My mother whispered to me before placing a kiss on my cheek.

“Well, I don’t like her.” I mumbled low and under my breath so no one could hear me.

The Beauty

teaser

meet the author

Ashlee Taylor has always loved to read. She was practically born with a book in hand. She even wrote short stories and vignettes for fun at age eleven.

As she grew up reading was put to the side but the book Fifty Shades of Grey brought back the love of the written word. Swallowing every book she could get her hands on while befriending authors. Eventually becoming a beta reader and helping authors work out critical scenes and plot progressions.

Through this process, Ashlee decided to write the stories in her head.

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

Boys, Toys, OH MY! 2 by A.M. Willard #CoverReveal @AMWillardAuthor

 

⋆⊰*•༻•༺⋆༻༺*COVER REVEAL*༻ ༺⋆༻•༺•*⊱⋆
Boys, Toys – Oh My
By A.M. Willard
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Genre: Romance
Is this what my life has become… Selling novelty items to couples…

I walked away from it all – the job, and the guy because he thought I was a stripper… The problem, I still want the guy, and I still blush
at the word penis. Not as much, but the heat still rises when I stop to think about what I’m saying.


Yes, this is my new life and I have to find the confidence to live it like I own it.

I knew allowing her to walk away that night was a mistake… Now I have to find a way to show that I truly care about her, and maybe then
she’ll understand that I can’t live my life without her.


The problem is she only wants to be friends, if that’s the only way I get her then it’ll have to be enough.
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Catch up on book one before book two is release on January 18, 2017
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About the Author
International Bestselling Author, A.M. Willard resides in Savannah, Georgia. She joined the Peach State many years ago after leaving the crystal blue waters
and sugary white sand behind from the Panhandle of Florida. She’s also known for being a wife, mother, and caretaker for her farm animals. A.M. loves anything sassy, glittery, and is a sucker for the Hallmark Channel. That last one might be the reason she
believes in soulmates or it could be because she married her high school sweetheart almost twenty years ago.
 

 

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Connect with A.M. Willard

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Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/2gHSCep

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Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2cvozRF

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