Release Blast: BOLD SEDUCTION by Karyn Gerrard #Giveaway

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BOLD SEDUCTION
The Hornsby Brothers #1
Karyn Gerrard
Releasing Sept 1st, 2015
Lyrical Press

 

No offer is more daring…

 

BOLD SEDUCTION

 

An Intriguing Proposition

 

Passion. Seduction. Pleasure. These are the qualities of any courtesan worth her salt. As owner of The Starling Club, London’s most notorious house of ill-repute, Madame Philomena McGrattan has seen it all, heard it all, done it all. There is little that surprises her anymore, and even less that excites her. So when she is presented a chance at an irresistible seduction, she can’t help but rise to the challenge.

 

A Dangerous Game

 

Studiousness. Practicality. Discipline. Such are the attributes of a good scholar, and such are the principles Lord Spencer Hornsby has built his life around. Alone in the Welsh countryside, with only his wolfhounds for company, Spencer has thrown himself into his work. There is little time for the pleasures of society, not even to think of the joys of the fairer sex. But when an unexpected guest arrives at his isolated hunting lodge, Spencer cannot help but be baffled by the presence of this dangerously beautiful woman. And when he discovers the reason for her arrival, and the pleasures she promises, he cannot help but find himself irresistibly intrigued . . .
Excerpt-Banner

Phil did have a fondness for reading Gothic novels. In fact, she’d brought a copy of Elizabeth Gaskell’s The Doom of the Griffiths with her. Never dreamed she would find herself in a Gothic setting, but here she stood, smack in the middle of one.

The hallways were dark and narrow, which made traversing difficult. Everything smelled of damp and decay. The lighting in the place consisted of a strange combination of candelabras and oil lamps, which showed how new mixed with old. With each step she took, the floor groaned and squeaked in response. At the end of the long hallway, a light flickered from under the door. The sound of barking dogs startled her; she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Justinian, Theodora, quiet!”

Phil stopped dead in her tracks at the deep, commanding voice. The animals immediately silenced. Who wouldn’t at such a tone? It must have been the professor. Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the door and knocked. No response. She tried again.

Nothing.

To hell with it. She turned the handle and crossed the threshold. What struck her all at once was the coziness. A fire blazed in a large stone hearth on the left side of the room. Before it laid two large, gray dogs the size of ponies. Good God. The hounds of hell. They eyed her with indifference, but a keen intelligence shone in their gazes, which they kept firmly on her. What were the beasts, wolfhounds? Enough speculation on the dogs. Phil swung her gaze to the large, ornate desk at the front of the room and the man sitting behind it.

The professor sat hunched over, his pen scratching furiously. He was a great hairy man with nary an inch of skin showing through. From the light of the lamp on his desk, it appeared his long wavy locks contained a curious mix of gold and brown as they hung forward like a curtain. He did not look up.

Phil scanned the room. Bookcases stuffed with ancient tomes filled every wall. On either side of the desk were two tables, the surface covered with books, maps, scrolls, and a thin layer of dust. No doubt the man himself would smell as musty as this room with dust and cobwebs collecting on his shoulders.

“You may leave the tray, Mrs. Brickell.”

Phil gave herself a moment to let the sultry and deep rumbling tone of his voice seep into her being. The sound lingered and made her weak in the knees. Quite a surprise, since most men didn’t garner any response from her at all. His voice, though cultured and refined, held the dangerous purr of a large predatory cat. Oh enough, Phil.

Suddenly, he stopped writing, flipped through a stack of papers, stroked his beard, glanced at the nearby bookcase, and muttered a quiet “oh.” He rose from his chair, and the loud creak that accompanied his movement meant the source to be either the banker’s chair or the professor. Revulsion moved through her upon seeing him lurch toward the bookcase to retrieve a stack of yellowed and stained parchment, keeping the same bent posture he had while sitting. Bloody hell, was the man a cripple? Another important fact those idiotic bastards neglected to mention. She shook the shocking revelation from her mind. The professor then moved swiftly back to his chair and sat all the while keeping the same crooked stance. Another disturbing creak could be heard, and she exhaled as she realized the sound came from the oak chair. The poor man was a hunchback. Well, no matter. She was paid to do a job regardless of the customer’s appearance.

“If you are referring to that drunk, putrid, old woman lurking about your filthy kitchen, I regret to inform you she’s done a runner.”

The professor laid his pen on the desk and slowly lifted his head, cocked his thick eyebrows, and gazed at her. “Indeed?”

Good God, she was correct, a great hairy beast. His unruly hair stuck out in all directions, as if it hadn’t been combed in many days. He stared at her with great owl eyes. His spectacles were huge, taking up one half of his face while the other half was covered in a bushy beard of all shades of color. Wouldn’t be surprised to find a swallow making a nest in it. The attraction that occurred at hearing his voice dissipated like a morning fog.

This man resembled one of the filthy beggars frequenting the streets of London. A duke’s son? Impossible.


 
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Karyn lives in a small town in the western corner of Ontario, Canada. She whiles away her spare time writing and reading romance while drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey tea. Tortured heroes are a must. A multi-published author with a few bestsellers under her belt, Karyn loves to write in different genres and time periods, though historicals and contemporaries are her favorite.

As long as she can avoid being hit by a runaway moose in her wilderness paradise she assumes everything is golden. Karyn’s been happily married for a long time to her own hero. His encouragement keeps her moving forward.

 

 

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

Blog Tour: Here All Along by Crista McHugh #Giveaway

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$10 Amazon eGift Card

 

HERE ALL ALONG
Kelly Brothers #7
Crista McHugh
Released August 26th, 2015

 

Can best friends become lovers while
the cameras are rolling?
Movie star Gideon Kelly has always
harbored a secret crush for his long-time friend and assistant, Sarah. One
sizzling kiss is enough to convince him she’s the only woman for him, and he’ll
do anything to prove to her they have all the makings of an epic Hollywood
romance.
Sarah Holtz rose to stardom as a
child only to crash and burn in her late teen years. Gideon was there to help
put the pieces of her life back together, and she now relishes her life far
away from the paparazzi flashes. Her need for privacy is the one thing holding
her back from exploring something more with him. When a video of their kiss
goes viral, she’s left wondering if he’s worth the risk of stepping back into
the spotlight to become his leading lady.
Recommended for those who enjoy
· Friends to lovers stories
· Hollywood romances
· Las Vegas weddings
· Waking up married stories
· Stories of second chances
· Sidekicks who love a good
practical joke
Excerpt-Banner

If anyone recognized Gideon as he passed through the crowded casino, they didn’t approach him. Part of it could be due to the corn-fed hulking mass of muscle trailing behind him, but at least it made for an uneventful trip to the steakhouse.

The real action didn’t start until the next patron walked in. A chorus of high-pitched, feminine squeals accompanied the dark-haired man, but it wasn’t until he turned around that Gideon understood why.

Gabe Harrison. A-list actor. Perennial member of People’s annual Sexiest Men list. And his future adversary on the silver screen.

A flash of recognition appeared in his dark eyes, and he extended his hand with a smile. “Gideon. So glad to finally meet you in person.”

“Likewise.” He peered over Gabe’s shoulder just in time to see Jason herding back what Sarah referred to as a pack of rabid fan girls. “You’re brave to travel without protection.”

Gabe waved it off with a shrug. “It’s only because I forgot to take my usual precautions. So, are you here for dinner?”

“No, I’m here to smell the beef.”

Gabe’s smile slipped for a moment, but then he laughed and wagged his finger. “Becca warned me about your sense of humor.”

“Just like she warned me about your practical jokes.” A wave of heat crawled up his spine. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn his co-star was trying to initiate a game of one-upmanship. But thankfully, his brother Ethan’s girlfriend had also warned him about Gabe’s competitive streak. Becca was best friends with Gabe’s sister, and the concept of six degrees of separation had become much smaller.

“So there’s no chance of my pulling one over on you, eh?”

He ignored Gabe’s taunt and pushed toward the hostess stand. “I have a reservation for two.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Of course, Mr. Kelly.”

“Expecting company?” Gabe asked.

“Just my assistant.” He spotted a woman with red hair squeezing past the gathering crowd. “There she is now.”

As soon as he pointed Sarah out to Gabe, he knew he’d made a mistake. Not because of the way Sarah looked. No, to call her stunning wouldn’t even do her justice. The simple black dress hugged her yoga-toned body in all the right places, and her straight hair shimmered under the lights like ruby-colored silk. She was simple, elegant, classy.

And the absolute object of Gabe Harrison’s attention.

Now it was Gideon’s turn to experience the unpleasant surge of jealousy he’d witnessed in her earlier.

Her expression immediately turned wary when she saw Gabe. “Did I miss the memo about the cast party?”

Gabe pressed his finger to his lips. “Shh! We don’t want Mackinzie to find out where we are.”

Her lips twitched, and a new jolt of jealousy rushed through Gideon. “Precisely, and now that Sarah’s arrived—”

“Sarah?” Gabe oozed playboy charm as he took her hand. “You’re Gideon’s assistant? I would’ve mistaken you for his girlfriend.”

She covered a hoarse cough, and her cheeks turned pink.

Gideon’s fingers curled into his palm. If he wasn’t careful, Gabe would sweep her off her feet, and he’d never even have a chance to win her heart. He moved between them, breaking his rival’s hold on Sarah’s hand. “If you’ll excuse us, I think the hostess is waiting to take us to our table.”

“How about I join you?”

He was about to tell Gabe to piss off, but Sarah placed a calm hand on his chest and diffused his rage.

“I think it might be wise if we all moved away from the entrance before Jason gets trampled.” She nodded toward the bodyguard, who looked like he wished he wasn’t tackling this assignment solo.

“Then a table for three it is.” Gabe grinned at the hostess and tucked Sarah’s hand into the crook of his arm. “I’m looking forward to getting to know both of you. I mean, with your brother dating my little sister’s best friend, we’re practically family.”

Gideon gritted his teeth and ran to catch up with them. If his co-star didn’t turn off the charm soon, he might feel obliged to give him a black eye.


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Crista McHugh, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of fantasy and romance who writes heroines who are smart, sexy and anything but ordinary. She currently lives in the Audi-filled suburbs of Seattle with her husband and two children, maintaining her alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while she continues to pursue writing on nights and weekends.

She is an active member of the Romance Writers of America (including the Greater Seattle Chapter and the Seattle Eastside Chapters), and Romance Divas. Just for laughs, here are some of the jobs she’s had in the past to pay the bills: barista, bartender, sommelier, stagehand, actress, morgue attendant, and autopsy assistant. And she’s also a recovering LARPer. (She blames it on her crazy college days)  

 

 

 

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

Blog Tour: Fire Me Up Deacons of Bourbon Street #2 by Rachael Johns #giveaway @Tastybooktours @RachaelJohns

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Select Ebook Loveswept Bundle 

 

FIRE ME UP

Deacons of Bourbon Street #2

Rachael Johns

Releasing Sept 1st, 2015

 

Can a scorching affair with a
bohemian beauty tame a motorcycle man with a dark side? Rachael Johns takes the
wheel in the sexy series co-written with Megan Crane, Jackie Ashenden, and
Maisey Yates.


Travis “Cash” Sinclair values only two things from his days with the Deacons of
Bourbon Street: his prized Harley Davidson and the man
who gave it to him. But now Priest Lombard is gone, and Cash has inherited the
Deacons’ clubhouse—not to mentions its unexpected tenant. She’s exactly the
type of woman he tries to avoid: all incense and art, with a sharp tongue that
promises trouble. So why does Cash want to push aside those flowing skirts and
lose himself between her legs?
Billie Taylor fled a bad marriage to start a new life among the grit and
glamour of the French Quarter. She refuses to let another man distract her from
her dreams, especially an outlaw biker with nothing to offer except hot sex and
an eviction notice. Cash is dangerous, with an untamed streak he tries
desperately to conceal. He drives Billie wild, sending her too close to the
edge for her own good. And she won’t fall under his spell—or into his
bed—without a fight

Excerpt-Banner

“This room is mine,” she said, folding her arms and glaring at him with more bravado than she felt as he turned to look at her with his dark, smoldering eyes. She shivered despite herself and almost forgot to add, “If you insist on staying, you’ll have to choose from one of the others.”

He took his time replying, his gaze sliding downward, scalding her body as if he’d actually touched her. For a moment she thought he was going to object—tell her that not only would he share her house but also her bed—but eventually he shut her wardrobe and nodded. “I always preferred the one next to this anyway.”

She swallowed. Of all the rooms in the house, he wanted to choose the one right next to hers? How would she sleep knowing he was mere yards away? Still, she was hardly in a position to argue, and if it would get him out of her personal space, well, that was a start.

“Fine.” She stepped back and gestured for him to leave. The only good thing about having Travis right next door was that she could keep an eye on him. Or was that a bad thing? Argh.

Surprisingly, he obeyed, stalking past her and smirking again as he did. She hated that she caught a waft of some raw, masculine cologne, which sent ripples of need through her body, rousing places she’d given little thought to over the last year. How ironic that the first sign of life down there had sparked because of a man who seemed intent on messing up her life. Why were the sexiest guys, the best-looking ones, always the biggest jerks?

He didn’t head straight for his room, instead going into the kitchen, and she found herself following. Her hackles rose as he opened the refrigerator and leaned inside, giving her a perfect view of his perfect butt. Oh help me, God! Had any guy she’d ever known looked so damn fine in faded jeans? Her thighs involuntarily clenched.

“No beer,” he said as he straightened.

Despite the traitorous hormones rushing through her body, she shook her head. It went against the grain of every single cell in her body not to be hospitable, but then again she hadn’t invited him to stay here with her. “Nope. Sorry. But there’s a bar next door.”

She wished he’d go back to it. He had to be one of the Deacons that had been hanging around The Priory the last few days. Sophie had given her a brief history of the motorcycle club—apparently it had disbanded around the time of Katrina—and informed her that it would be unlikely any of its members would hang around after her father’s funeral. But, dammit, it looked like she’d been wrong on that account. Billie needed to go see Sophie, make sure this guy was for real. For all she knew he could be anybody. He hadn’t shown her any proof that he owned the building, but something—maybe the way he’d leaned into her face when he told her no one tells him what the fuck to do—made her cautious. He was like a wild animal, and she didn’t want to make any sudden moves.

He smiled wickedly and leaned back against the counter, looking her over again, making her feel aroused and insulted all at once. “I know it. The bar and this place used to be my home.”

“Is that right?” She wondered about Travis Sinclair. He had the leather jacket, the swagger in his step and the don’t-mess-with-me attitude of a biker, but there was something about him that didn’t fit the image. He wore no patches like a couple of other guys she’d seen hanging around next door, but that wasn’t it. There was something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “And where is your home now?”

She waited for him to tell her it was none of her fucking business, but he shrugged off his jacket, hung it over one of the odd chairs that sat around her kitchen table and then pulled back the seat and straddled it. “Tallahassee,” he said as he leaned down and yanked a laptop out of his pack. It was a flashy MacBook Air—not at all the type of computer she’d expect of a biker. He didn’t even glance her way as he put it on the table in front of him, lifted the lid and tapped his boots against the tiled floor as he waited for the computer to spring to life.

No idea where Tallahassee was—geography had never been her thing—she vowed to google it later. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, she wiped her palm across her brow, feeling hot and more than a little bothered. Being warm in itself wasn’t unusual in New Orleans or in Western Australia where she came from, but the weather had nothing to do with the rise in her body temperature. And that disturbed her.

Her eyes zoned in on the bad-boy ink that traveled the length of his sculpted and tanned forearms, and the heat that had been simmering inside her boiled over.

Until this moment she’d have said she wasn’t a fan of body art—personally, she preferred her art on walls or in gardens—but Travis’s tattoos changed her opinion. And that was bad, because with her divorce only recently official, the last thing she wanted in her life was another man who thought he could walk all over her.

 
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Rachael Johns is an English teacher by
trade, a mum 24/7, a supermarket owner, a chronic arachnophobic, and a writer
the rest of the time. She rarely sleeps and never irons. She writes
contemporary romance for HQN and Carina Press and lives in rural Western
Australia with her hyperactive husband and three mostly-gorgeous
heroes-in-training. Rachael loves to hear from readers and can be contacted
through her website at www.rachaeljohns.com
 

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

Cover Reveal: Keeping What’s His by Jamie Begley

Hide Your Daughters,
The Porter’s are Coming…
KEEPING WHAT’S HIS
Porter Brothers Trilogy #1
Jamie Begley
Releasing Fall 2015
Young Ink Press
The Porter
Brother’s were raised to live and die by Three Rules
 
One, a Porter stands his ground 
Two, a Porter leaves no enemy standing
Three…
Sutton Creech was a cheat and a liar. Tate Porter had found that
out when he was eighteen, and he had no intention of letting her make a fool
out of him again. He didn’t care how much pain he saw in her eyes or how old
memories tugged at his unforgiving heart until, the night a hidden secret is
revealed and everything Tate had believed about their past is shattered,
proving he had let the woman he loved get away.
Between trying to protect his family and running their pot growing
business, Tate doesn’t have time to play the “Nice Guy”. He’d just
have to remember the most important rule his father had given them: A
Porter always keeps what’s his.
 

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“I
was born in a small town in Kentucky. My family began poor, but worked their
way to owning a restaurant. My mother was one of the best cooks I have ever
known, and she instilled in all her children the value of hard work, and
education.
Taking
after my mother, I’ve always love to cook, and became pretty good if I do say
so myself. I love to experiment and my unfortunate family has suffered through
many. They now have learned to steer clear of those dishes. I absolutely love
the holidays and my family puts up with my zany decorations.
For
now, my days are spent writing, writing, and writing. I have two children who
both graduated this year from college. My daughter does my book covers, and my
son just tries not to blush when someone asks him about my books.
Currently
I am writing five series of books- The Last Riders, The VIP Room, Predators MC,
Biker Bitches, and The Dark Souls.
All
my books are written for one purpose- the enjoyment others find in them, and
the expectations of my fans that inspire me to give it my best.”
 
 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

 

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

Blog Tour: Right Wrong Guy by Lia Riley #Giveaway @Tastybooktours @LiaRileyWrites

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Digital Bluefire Download Copy of
LAST FIRST KISS

 

RIGHT WRONG GUY
Brightwater #2
Lia Riley
Releasing Aug 4th, 2015
Avon Romance
The
fun and flirty second installment in Lia Riley’s fantastic Brightwater series.
Sometimes two wrongs can
make a right…
Bad
boy wrangler, Archer Kane, lives fast and loose. Words like responsibility and
commitment send him running in the opposite direction. Until a wild Vegas
weekend puts him on a collision course with Eden Bankcroft-Kew, a New York
heiress running away from her blackmailing fiancé…the morning of her wedding.
Eden
has never understood the big attraction to cowboys. Give her a guy in a
tailored suit any day of the week. But now all she can think about is Mr.
Rugged Handsome, six-feet of sinfully sexy country charm with a pair of green
eyes that keeps her tossing and turning all night long.
Archer
might be the wrong guy for a woman like her, but she’s not right in thinking
he’ll walk away without fighting for her heart. And maybe, just maybe, two
wrongs can make a right.
Excerpt-Banner

“Get the hell out.” Stormy’s real voice sounded a lot more Jersey Shore than genteel Georgian peach farmer. She wasn’t half bad at the whole ventriloquist gig, but now wasn’t the time to offer compliments.

He threw on his Levi’s commando-style while Stormy eyed his package as if prepping to go Category Five hurricane on his junk. Scooping his red Western shirt off the floor, he made a break for the bedroom. His boots were by the door but his hat was still on the bed, specifically on Crystal’s head. Her sleepy expression gave way to confusion as Stormy sprang from the bathroom, Great Uncle Sam leading the charge.

“What’s going on?” Crystal asked as Stormy bellowed, “Prepare to have your manwhore ass kicked back into whatever cowpoke hole you crawled from.”

Hat? Boots? Hat? Boots? Archer only had time to grab one. He slung his arms through the shirt, not bothering to snap the pearl clasps, and grabbed the hand-tooled boots while hurtling into the hall. Yeah, definitely getting too old for this shit.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he called over one shoulder as the dove swooped.

He bypassed the elevator bay in favor of the stairwell. Once he’d descended three floors, he paused to tug on his boots and his phone rang. Pulling it out from his back pocket, he groaned at the screen. Grandma Kane.

He could let it go to voice mail. In fact, he was tempted to do just that, but the thing about Grandma was she called back until you picked up.

With a heavy sigh, and a prayer for two Tylenol, he hit “answer.” “How’s the best grandma in the world?” he boomed, propping the phone between his ear and shoulder and snapping together his shirt.

“Quit with your smooth talk, boy,” Grandma barked. “Where are you?”

“Leaving church,” he fibbed quickly.

“Better not be the Little Chapel of Love.”

“What do you—”

“Don’t feed me bullhickey. You’re in Vegas again.”

Sawyer must have squeaked. As Brightwater sheriff, he was into upright citizenship and moral standing, nobler than George Washington and his ******* cherry tree.

“Did you forget about our plans for this weekend?”

“Plans?” He wracked his brain but thinking hurt. So did walking down these stairs. Come to think of it, so did breathing. He needed that upcoming coffee and bacon like a nose needed picking.

Grandma made a rude noise. “To go over the accounts for Hidden Rock. You promised to set up the new purchase-order software on the computer.”

Shit. His shoulders slumped. He had offered to help. Grandma ran a large, profitable cattle ranch, but the Hidden Rock’s inventory management was archaic, and the accounting practically done by abacus. In his hurry to see if an impromptu Vegas road trip could overcome his funk, the meeting had slipped his mind. “Let me make it up to you—”

“Your charm has no currency here, boy.” Grandpa Kane died before Archer was born and Grandma never remarried. Perhaps he should introduce her to Stormy’s Great Uncle Sam. Those two were a match made in heaven, could spend their spare time busting his balls.

He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot, okay?” Not okay. Grandma counted on him and he let her down.

“Funny, guess you’re probably too busy using women like disposable silverware.” Her tone sounded anything but amused. “Even funnier will be when I forget to put you in my will.”

Grandma’s favorite threat was disinheriting him. Who cared? The guy voted Biggest Partier and Class Flirt his senior year at Brightwater High was also the least likely to run Hidden Rock Ranch.

The line went dead. At least she didn’t ask why he couldn’t be more like Sawyer anymore.

 
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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.
 
 

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

Book Review: Falling for the P.I. by Victoria James #giveaway@Tastybooktours @VicJames101

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$25.00 Amazon eGift Card 

 

FALLING FOR THE P.I.
Still Harbor #1
Victoria James
Releasing Aug 10th, 2015
Entangled: Bliss
Teacher
Kate Abbott’s fresh start in Still Harbor was the beginning of the life that
she and her two best friends always imagined for themselves. Still, being a
working single parent of a special needs daughter hasn’t exactly improved
Kate’s love life. But Kate’s preference for nachos over men quickly disappears
when she meets the oh-so-sexy Matt Lane.
Until
she finds out he’s a cop.
Matt
is a former cop-turned-private investigator, and he knows fear when he sees it.
A cop clearly spooked Kate…or hurt her. Still, something about the gorgeous
professor catches his attention, and despite his “no settling down” policy, he
can’t resist her. But all of the attraction in the world won’t be enough to
overcome Kate’s past…
 
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Excerpt-Banner

Matt’s mind was spinning. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Kate was a mother. Well, one date wasn’t going to hurt him. He could sign up for the donation and then never see her again. He paused before getting into the SUV and pretended to glance down at his phone. He hadn’t made any commitments. It was a working date, nothing more.

He opened the door for her and he could read the surprise on her face when he did. “Uh, thanks,” she said, but then paused, not stepping into his SUV. Instead, she turned to look at him, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I just want to be clear,” she began softly. “I’m not looking for anything other than a donation. I can tell you’re surprised that I have a daughter.” Her head was tilted back so that she could look at him squarely in the eye.

He cleared his throat. “So only one is yours?”

Kate surprised him by smiling, and he found himself smiling in return, then looking at her mouth. She was not what he’d expected, and his attraction to her was only increasing instead of diminishing. That should have sent off some warning bells.

“Yes. The little girl with glasses, Janie, is my daughter. She has Down’s syndrome. I adopted her. There is no father, no husband, no anyone,” she said softly, but in a voice that was filled with conviction, slightly defensive.

He stared at her, speechless, impressed. She made him think of all the good women in his life, the ones who had sacrificed and loved him. She made him think all the naïve thoughts he’d once had about people when he was little, before he learned how horrible they could really be. Her expression reminded him of himself when he’d defiantly look up to his father, hoping for acceptance, but bracing himself for the worst.

He swallowed, hard. “Why didn’t you introduce me to your daughter?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I read the expression on your face. I saw the shock and I have no intention of introducing my daughter to someone who won’t be around tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ve gotten used to it. I also know that I’ve had to choose my…friends wisely. I don’t put up with crap from people, so if you want to donate, it will be greatly appreciated. If you were after something else and now want out, that’s fine too. Just don’t waste my time and don’t bother acting all charming if you’re after a quick screw. I don’t work that way,” she said, backing up abruptly.

Matt grabbed her hand, finding his voice. “Don’t do that, don’t assume I’m like everyone else.” He didn’t know  what the hell he was doing, or what he was promising, but he didn’t want to be that guy she was describing, and he didn’t want to say good-bye to Kate.

My Review

I really enjoyed reading Falling for the P.I by Victoria James, I loved the characters and especially Kate, her daughter Janie and Matt the P.I. I found this book to be interesting and fun to read.  Fate or luck bringing Kate and Matt together, and the fact of their backgrounds and Matt being an understand man. I hated to have to read to the end to find out Kate’s story, but it was worth the wait, and I liked how her character was developed.  I also thought it was great having a story with a special needs child, and how loving Janie is, and what a softy Matt is towards her, I could just feel the love. What an awesome beginning to a wonderful family.

I can’t wait to read more of this series and to learn about the others in Kate’s family.



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Victoria James is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling
author of contemporary romance.
Victoria always knew she wanted to be a writer and in grade five, she penned
her first story, bound it (with staples and a cardboard cover) and did all the
illustrations herself. Luckily, this book will never see the light of day
again.

In high school she fell in love with historical romance and then contemporary
romance. After graduating University with an English Literature degree,
Victoria pursued a degree in Interior Design and then opened her own business.
After her first child, Victoria knew it was time to fulfill her dream of
writing romantic fiction.

Victoria is a hopeless romantic who is living her dream, penning
happily-ever-after’s for her characters in between managing kids and the family
business. Writing on a laptop in the middle of the country in a rambling old
Victorian house would be ideal, but she’s quite content living in suburbia with
her husband, their two young children, and very bad cat.

Sign up for Victoria’s Newsletter to stay up to date on upcoming releases and
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daily life, and get to know her on twitter and Facebook. She loves hearing from
readers!

 

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