Crowned by Hate by Amo Jones #CoverReveal @givemebooksblog @authorAmojones

 

 

Title: Crowned by Hate
Series: Crowned Trilogy #1
Author: Amo Jones
Genre: Dark Romance/Thriller
Cover Design: Jay Aheer
Release Date: November 14, 2017

 

Blurb
Some would say I have a privileged life. Daughter of the current President of the United States, wealthy, famous, and all things that some girls wish they had.
Only I’d dream of having a simple life. A life where I wasn’t marrying the scariest man I have ever met. Well, I thought I had just met him, but it turns out, there’s so much I don’t know about myself. That’s all thanks to a past so twisted, so warped, that no amount of money, or presidential status could wipe it clean.
I’m the rebel child. Or as some may see it, the disappointment. I’ve never cared about expensive wedding gowns, or how much someone paid for a tailored suit. I don’t care if your wedding dress is from Walmart, or if it’s from some fancy, upscale designer line.
So why am I marrying the devil dressed in a thousand-dollar
suit?
I’m about to find out how I got here. To marrying one of the most powerful men in the country. The road to finding out, though, is paved with darkness, painted with the blood of innocents, and it leads my ass straight to hell. Only this hell is a multi-million-dollar penthouse suite in New York City where Bryant Saint Royal, sits on his throne.
Pre-order Links
99c pre-order only price!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Author Bio
Amo is a full-time writer from New Zealand who loves long romantic walks to the wine cellar.She loves to write like how she lives, hanging on the edge of insanity with a wine glass in one hand and her morals-or lack thereof- in the other.

Those are not my monkeys, I swear….
Oh those hellhounds? Yeah, those are mine.
Author Links

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

The Mafia and His Angel: Part One by Lylah James #BookRelease @givemebooksblog @limitlessbooks @AuthorLy_James

 

 

Title: The Mafia and His Angel: Part One
Series: Tainted Hearts #1
Author: Lylah James
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Genre: Mafia Romantic Suspense
Release Date: August 1, 2017

 

Blurb

 

Alessio…

Cold.
Ruthless. Killer.
I am
respected and feared by all.
I wasn’t
put on this earth to love or be loved. I was put here to wipe out every last
member of the damn Abandonato mafia, to pay them back for my mother’s death.
When I find
a strange girl hiding, beaten, under my bed, I don’t let her live out of
compassion.
She’s a
trinket, my plaything.

Ayla…

I thought
Alessio was only one more man who wanted to use me, hurt me, and throw me away.
I don’t know what it is to trust anymore. I can’t find my heart under the pain.
Alessio
found it. He touched it, and brought it alive again.
But if he
discovers just how dangerous I am to him…I’ll lose my life.


 

Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt

Just when I was about to put it on, a deep rough voice came
from behind me.
“I have to say, you have a lovely body.”
I shrieked loudly and swiveled around toward the voice. I
tried to focus on the intruder but he was effortlessly hidden in the darkness.
I didn’t have to see him to know who it was.
I knew that voice. My body knew that voice.
Alessio.
I took a step back in fear, my nightshirt pressed against my
body, hiding my nakedness from his eyes. Shaking from head to toe, I swallowed
hard and my stomach started to cramp in fear— maybe in anticipation too.
Suddenly, the lights were on. I had to blink a few times to
adjust my eyes.
Alessio was sitting in my sofa chair, leaning back
comfortably. His left ankle was crossed on top of his right knee and there was
a small remote in his hand, which he probably used to turn on the lights.
He wasn’t wearing a suit. But he did have his black slacks
on and a black linen shirt, which was unbuttoned at the top, to reveal some of
his chest.
His hard, muscular
chest.
I forced away the thought.
Keeping my eyes on him, I saw his gaze intensely focused on
my body. There was no embarrassment. No awkwardness. Alessio was completely
calm and confident as his eyes raked over my body.
“Hmm,” he muttered, looking thoughtful as he watched me.
He leaned back against the sofa. His muscles were clear
beneath his shirt, making him look big.
I forced myself not to fidget, but it was hard. I couldn’t
show fear. Men like him fed on fear. They used it to their advantage.
My fingers tightened around my shirt. My throat felt heavy
and dry. When I started to feel lightheaded, I realized I’d been holding my
breath for too long.
I let it out in a loud whoosh and then sucked in a deep
breath again. But, it was pointless.
His heated gaze traveled all the way down my body. I was
speechless and frozen where I stood. When my body started to warm up under his
focus, I closed my eyes tightly. But the tingling didn’t stop.

 

Author Bio

Lylah James
lives with her parents and younger brother somewhere in Canada. She uses all
her spare time to write. If she is not studying, sleeping, writing or working –
she can be found with her nose buried in a good romance book, preferably with a
hot alpha male.

Writing is
her passion. The voices in her head won’t stop and she believes they deserve to
be heard and read. Lylah James writes about drool worthy and total alpha males,
with strong and sweet heroines. She makes her readers cry – sob their eyes out,
swoon, curse, rage and fall in love. Mostly known as the Queen of cliffhanger
and the #evilauthorwithablacksoul, she likes to break her readers’ hearts and
then mend them again.

 

Author Links

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

Murder and Mayhem: A Limited Edition Thriller and Mystery Collection #Bookblast

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M.R. Graham

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Award-Winning author Pamela Crane

Award-Winning author Ashley C. Harris

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Steve P. Vincent

Tina Glasneck

Award-Wining author Pauline Creeden

Dave Sinclair

New York Times bestselling author Monica Corwin

Buy Links: Only $.99!

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

This is a Bust by Ed Lin #BookTour @robertchow @DogEaredPR

 

 

 

Set in New York’s Chinatown in 1976, this sharp and gritty novel is a mystery set against the backdrop of a city in turmoil
Robert Chow is a Vietnam vet and an alcoholic. He’s also the only Chinese American cop on the Chinatown beat, and the only police officer who can speak Cantonese. But he’s basically treated like a token, trotted out for ribbon cuttings and community events.
So he shouldn’t be surprised when his superiors are indifferent to his suspicions that an old Chinese woman’s death may have actually been a murder. But he sure is angry. With little more than his own demons to fuel him, Chow must take matters into his own hands.
Rich with the details of its time and place, this homage to noir will appeal to fans of S.J. Rozan and Michael Connelly.

 

January 20, 1976. The Hong Kong-biased newspaper ran an editorial about how the Chinese who had just come over were lucky to get jobs washing dishes and waiting tables in Chinatown. Their protest was making all Chinese people look bad. If the waiters didn’t like their wages, they should go ask the communists for jobs and see what happens.Here in America, democracy was going to turn 200 years old in July. But the Chinese waiters who wanted to organize a union were going directly against the principles of freedom that George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln had fought for.

Those waiters were also disrespecting the previous generations of Chinese who had come over and worked so hard for so little. If it weren’t for our elders, the editorial said, today we would be lumped in with the lazy blacks and Spanish people on welfare.

I folded the newspaper, sank lower in my chair, and crossed my arms. I banged my heels against the floor.

“Just a minute, you’re next! Don’t be so impatient!” grunted Law, one of the barbers. A cigarette wiggled in his mouth as he snipped away on a somber-looking Chinese guy’s head. When he had one hand free, he took his cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray built into the arm cushion of his customer’s chair.

He reached into the skyline of bottles against the mirror for some baby powder. Law sprinkled it onto his hand and worked it into the back of the somber guy’s neck while pulling the sheet off from inside his collar. Clumps of black hair scampered to the floor as he shook off the sheet.

The customer paid. Law pulled his drawer out as far as it would go and tucked the bills into the back. Then he came over to me.

Law had been cutting my hair since I was old enough to want it cut. He was in his early 60s and had a head topped with neatly sculpted snow. His face was still soft and supple, but he had a big mole on the lower side of his left cheek.

You couldn’t help but stare at it when he had his back turned because it stood out in profile, wiggling in sync with his cigarette.

He looked at the newspaper on my lap.

“We should give all those pro-union waiters guns and send them to Vietnam!” Law grunted. “They’ll be begging to come back and bus tables.”

“They wouldn’t be able to take the humidity,” I said.

“That’s right, they’re not tough like you! You were a brave soldier! OK, come over here. I’m ready for you now,” Law said, wiping off the seat. I saw hair stuck in the foam under the ripped vinyl cover, but I sat down anyway. Hair could only make the seat softer.

“I don’t mean to bring it up, but you know it’s a real shame what happened. The Americans shouldn’t have bothered to send in soldiers, they should have just dropped the big one on them. You know, the A-bomb.”

“Then China would have dropped an A-bomb on the United States,” I said.

“Just let them! Commie weapons probably don’t even work!” Law shouted into my right ear as he tied a sheet around my neck.

“They work good enough,” I said.

When Chou En Lai had died two weeks before, the Greater China Association had celebrated with a ton of firecrackers in the street in front of its Mulberry Street offices and handed out candy to the obligatory crowd. The association had also displayed a barrel of fireworks they were going to set off when Mao kicked, which was going to be soon, they promised. Apparently, the old boy was senile and bedridden.

“Short on the sides, short on top,” I said.

“That’s how you have to have it, right? Short all around, right?” Law asked.

“That’s the only way it’s ever been cut.”

If you didn’t tell Law how you wanted your hair, even if you were a regular, he’d give you a Beefsteak Charlie’s haircut, with a part right down the center combed out with a Chinese version of VO5. I was going to see my mother in a few days, and I didn’t want to look that bad.

“Scissors only, right? You don’t like the electric clipper, right?”

“That’s right,” I said. When I hear buzzing by my ears, I want to swat everything within reach. Law’s old scissors creaked through my hair. Sometimes I had to stick my jaw out and blow clippings out of my eyes.

The barbershop’s two huge plate glass windows cut into each other at an acute angle in the same shape as the street. Out one window was the sunny half of Doyers Street. The other was in the shade. How many times had I heard that this street was the site of tong battles at the turn of the century? How many times had I heard tour guides say that the barbershop was built on the “Bloody Angle”?

The barbershop windows were probably the original ones, old enough so they were thicker at the bottom than at the top. They distorted images of people from the outside, shrinking heads and bloating asses. In the winters, steam from the hot shampoo sink covered the top halves of the windows like lacy curtains in an abandoned house.

In back of me, a bulky overhead hair dryer whined like a dentist’s drill on top of a frowning woman with thick glasses getting a perm.

The barbers had to shout to hear each other. The news station on the radio was nearly drowned out. The only time you could hear it was when they played the xylophone between segments or made the dripping-sink sounds.

If you knew how to listen for it, you could sometimes hear the little bell tied to the broken arm of the pneumatic pump on the door. The bell hung from a frayed loop of red plastic tie from a bakery box. When the bell went off, one or two barbers would yell out in recognition of an old head.

The bell went off, and Law yelled right by my ear.

“Hey!” he yelled. Two delayed “Hey”s went off to my left and right. The chilly January air swept through the barbershop. A thin man in a worn wool coat heaved the door closed behind him and twisted off his felt hat. His hands were brown, gnarled, and incredibly tiny, like walnut shells. He fingered the brim of his hat and shifted uneasily from foot to foot, but made no motion to take off his coat or drop into one of the four empty folding chairs by the shadow side of Doyers. He swept his white hair back, revealing a forehead that looked like a mango gone bad.

“My wife just died,” he said. If his lungs hadn’t been beat up and dusty like old vacuum-cleaner bags, it would have been a shout. “My wife died,” he said again, as if he had to hear it to believe it. The hairdryer shut down.

“Oh,” said Law. “I’m sorry.” He went on with my hair. No one else said anything. Someone coughed. Law gave a half-grin grimace and kept his head down, the typical stance for a Chinese man stuck in an awkward situation. The radio babbled on.

The barbers just wanted to cut hair and have some light conversation about old classmates and blackjack. Why come here to announce that your wife had died? The guy might as well have gone to the Off Track Betting joint on Bowery around the corner. No one was giving him any sympathy here.

Death was bad luck. Talking about death was bad luck. Listening to someone talk about death was bad luck. Who in Chinatown needed more bad luck?

“What should I do?” the thin man asked. He wasn’t crying, but his legs were shaking. I could see his pant cuffs sweep the laces of his polished wing tips. “What should I do?” he asked again. The xylophone on the radio went off.

I stood up and swept the clippings out of my hair. The bangs were longer on one side of my head. I slipped the sheet off from around my neck and coiled it onto the warmth of the now-vacant seat. Law opened a drawer, dropped in his scissors, and shut it with his knee. He leaned against his desk and fumbled for a cigarette in his shirt pocket.

I blew off the hair from my shield and brushed my legs off. I pushed my hat onto my head.

“Let’s go,” I told the thin man.

 

Ed Lin, a native New Yorker of Taiwanese and Chinese descent, is the first author to win three Asian American Literary Awards and is an all-around standup kinda guy. His books include Waylaid, and a trilogy set in New York’s Chinatown in the 70s: This Is a Bust, Snakes Can’t Run and One Red Bastard. Ghost Month, published by Soho Crime in July 2014, is a Taipei-based mystery, and Incensed, published October 2016, continues that series.
Lin lives in Brooklyn with his wife, actress Cindy Cheung, and son.
Connect with Ed at http://www.edlinforpresident.com or on social media at:

Monday, July 17
Book featured at Cheryl’s Book Nook
Book featured at Chill and Read
Guest blogging at Mythical Books

Tuesday, July 18
Interviewed at I’m Shelf-ish
Book featured at Elise’s Audiobook Digest
Book featured at Books, Dreams, Life

Wednesday, July 19
Guest blogging at Must Read Faster
Book featured at Diana’s Book Reviews
Interviewed at Harmonious Publicity

Thursday, July 20
Book featured at The Writers’ Life
Book featured at Stormy Nights Reviewing
Interviewed at As the Page Turns

Friday, July 21
Book featured at Lynn’s Romance Enthusiasm
Guest blogging at Thoughts in Progress

Sunday, July 23
Book featured at T’s Stuff
Interviewed at The Literary Nook

Monday, July 24
Book featured at A Title Wave
Book featured at Stuck in YA Books

Tuesday, July 25
Book featured at The Angel’s Pearl
Book featured at Write and Take Flight
Book featured at The Bookworm Lodge

Wednesday, July 26
Book featured at Don’t Judge, Read
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Book featured at Comfy Chair Books

Thursday, July 27
Book featured at The Dark Phantom

Friday, July 28
Book featured at A Book Lover
Book featured at Mello and June

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

Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn #ReleaseBlitz @pintipdunn @chapterxchapter

Release Week Blitz: Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn – Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Hello Readers! Welcome to the Release Week Blitz for

Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn!

Check out the excerpt below, and
be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!

 

Congratulations Pintip!!

 

 

 

From the author of The Darkest Lie comes a compelling, provocative story for fans of I Was Here and Vanishing Girls, about a high school senior straddling two worlds, unsure how she fits in either—and the journey of self-discovery that leads her to surprising truths.

In her small Kansas town, at her predominantly white school, Kanchana doesn’t look like anyone else. But at home, her Thai grandmother chides her for being too westernized. Only through the clothing Kan designs in secret can she find a way to fuse both cultures into something distinctly her own.

When her mother agrees to provide a home for a teenage girl named Shelly, Kan sees a chance to prove herself useful. Making Shelly feel comfortable is easy at first—her new friend is eager to please, embraces the family’s Thai traditions, and clearly looks up to Kan. Perhaps too much. Shelly seems to want everything Kanchana has, even the blond, blue-eyed boy she has a crush on. As Kan’s growing discomfort compels her to investigate Shelly’s past, she’s shocked to find how much it intersects with her own—and just how far Shelly will go to belong…

Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn
Publication Date: June 27, 2017
Publisher: Kensington

Google Drive | BAM | Chapters | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

 

 

 

“Hey. Look at me, please.” I nudge her shoulder, and she lifts her tear-stained face. “I messed up tonight. But it won’t happen again. No boy is going to come between us. I promised.”

She widens her eyes. “You still plan to keep your word?”

“Of course. I don’t make promises just for the hell of it, you know.”

A smile ghosts across her lips, but I can tell she’s still hurt. My heart contracts even more. “I’m here for you, Shelly. How can I prove that?”

“Well, there is one thing. . . .” She glances over her shoulder, although no one else is here. “Never mind. You’re going to think it’s silly. Forget I said anything.”

“I won’t. We’re friends, right? You can tell me anything, and I won’t think you’re silly.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay. Fine.” The words tumble out. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I was a kid. Problem was, I never had anyone to do it with.”

“What is it?”

“I want us to be blood sisters.”

A chill creeps up my spine. Blood sisters? As in, my blood mixed with hers? This is unsanitary at best, deadly at worst.

“You hate the idea, don’t you?” she moans. “Forget it. I knew it was silly. . . .”

“No, no. You just surprised me, that’s all.” My mind spins, as I try to think of how to respond. “I don’t have anything against the idea, in theory. But you know all that stuff we’ve heard, about AIDS and other diseases and infections. Maybe I’m just being silly. . . .”

“Hey, it’s a valid concern. And I could tell you I’m clean, but you can never be too sure, right?” She wrinkles her forehead. “I’ve got it! We can do our own modified version. We’ll drop our blood onto a clean surface and let the liquid mix there. That way, we’ve performed the ceremony, but we’re still protecting ourselves. What do you think?”

“Um . . .” NO! my mind screams. Every cell in my body rebels against the thought. Mixing our blood is just gross. And weird. There’s nothing in me that wants any part of this. I rack my brain, searching for a reason, any reason at all that won’t offend her.

“Look, I know we only met a couple weeks ago,” Shelly says in a small voice, “but I feel this connection with you. Like we were always meant to be friends. This ceremony represents that. You’re my sister, through and through.”

I take a deep breath. This idea she’s suggesting is more than a little creepy. But Shelly’s been through such a rough time lately. It’s not going to kill me to drop a little blood on a cutting board. If it makes her happy, I should just say yes. It’s not that big a deal . . . even if it makes all the hair stand up on my neck.

“Okay, fine,” I say, before I can change my mind. “Let’s do it.”

 

 

 

Pintip is a New York Times bestselling author of YA fiction. She graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. She received her J.D. at Yale Law School, where she was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL.

Pintip’s first novel, FORGET TOMORROW won the RWA RITA® award for Best First Book. Her other novels include THE DARKEST LIE, REMEMBER YESTERDAY, and the novella, BEFORE TOMORROW. She is represented by literary agent Beth Miller of Writers House.

She lives with her husband and children in Maryland.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

 

 

Complete the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win!

 

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

Melancholy Ghost by Kat Mayor #BookBlitz @lolasblogtours @MontemayorKat

Melancholy Ghost banner
This is my stop during the book blitz for Melancholy Ghost by Kat Mayor. This book blitz is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The book blitz runs from 21 till 27 February. You can see the blitz schedule here.

Melancholy GhostMelancholy Ghost
By Kat Mayor
Genre: Paranormal
Age category: Adult
Release Date: 14 February, 2017

Blurb:
From ghost hunter to ghost, haunted.

Barrett has a plan—help Austin regain his memory, surround him with his friends and loved ones, and lead him into the light. Unfortunately, the tragic investigation of a melancholy ghost derails everything.

As new lead investigator, Thai struggles to maintain the high ratings SCI has always enjoyed. After a few subpar investigations, the network execs demand results, even if it means the team must put their lives on the line for a house more deadly than its dead occupants.

There are worse things than being dead.

Austin knows something is wrong. Most people ignore him, time eludes him, and his hands are basically worthless. If only he could remember what happened, he would have the answers he so desperately seeks. He’s sick of Barrett’s lies and Casey’s deflections. Austin will have to figure this one out on his own. Will the truth set him free, or destroy his soul?

You can find Melancholy Ghost on Goodreads

You can buy Melancholy Ghost here:
Amazon
Amazon Paperback

Melancholy Ghost Teaser

Start this series with The Spirit Chaser! Only 0.99$!
The Spirit Chaser
Some places are too evil. Some places should be left alone.The Spirit Chaser is only 0.99$, so you can start this series for cheap. You can buy The Spirit Chaser on Amazon.

Kat MayorAbout the Author:
I am a native Texan, wife, and mom. In addition to The Spirit Chaser, I have written a young adult series, The Circle. I’m a full-time reader, part-time writer, and when I’m not kicking a story around in my head, I love to read and review books on Goodreads.

You can find and contact Kat Mayor here:
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads

Giveaway
There is a tour wide giveaway for the book blitz of Melancholy Ghost. This giveaway is open international. These are the prizes you can win:
– One 50$ Amazon gift card and paperback copies of The Spirit Chaser and Melancholy Ghost.
– One 25$ Amazon gift card and e-books of The Spirit Chaser and Melancholy Ghost.

For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below:
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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl