About the Book
Author: Stacy Reid
Genre: Historical Romance
England, 1817. Miss Adeline Hays is out of options. Determined to escape marriage to a repugnant earl, Adeline plans to deliberately allow herself to be caught in a compromising position at a house party with the much kinder man she’d hoped to marry. Instead, Adeline accidentally enters the wrong chamber and tumbles into the bed of the mad duke.
Edmond Rochester, the duke of Wolverton, is seeking a wife to care for his two daughters. A young lady of sensibilities, accomplishment, and most importantly, one who he is not attracted to—a complete opposite of the bewitching beauty who traps him into marriage. But despite the lust he feels for his new duchess, Edmond is resolved to never allow them intimacy, refusing to ever again suffer the tormenting loss of a loved one.
I am an avid reader of novels with a deep passion for writing. From an early age, I started writing short stories for pleasure. I knew the dozens of romance novels I devoured were onto something when I met my husband at fifteen and fell in love after a week!
Life got in the way and I stopped writing for years. Then at the age of twenty-six with a degree in Human Resource Management I decided to focus on my passion—writing. I especially love romance and adore writing sensually hot paranormal fantasy, historical and contemporary stories.
I live a lot in the worlds I create and I actively speak to my characters (out loud). I have a warrior way “never give up on my dream.” When I am not writing, I spend a copious amount of time drooling over Rick Grimes from Walking Dead, watching Japanese Anime and playing video games with my love—Dusean Nelson.
Some Random Things About Me
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hen Elizabeth was born, her mother knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the hospital had made a mistake.
It had been a difficult pregnancy. Marie spent most of it in bed, nauseated, uncomfortable, exhausted. She barely kept anything down, subsisting mostly on tea and saltine crackers. When the time came to deliver, the doctors performed an emergency Caesarean section, so she wasn’t able to actually watch the birth.
She couldn’t explain it, but the first time the nurses presented her with Elizabeth, she refused to even hold the baby. “There must be some mistake,” she insisted.
“There’s no mistake,” the nurses said, their approach firm and no-nonsense.
Blond and pale, Elizabeth looked nothing like the other dark haired members of the family. But it was more than that. Elizabeth felt wrong. Marie sensed it every single time she looked at Elizabeth, touched Elizabeth, smelled Elizabeth. The baby was alien to her. Elizabeth was not her baby.
But she could do nothing about it. Her husband hadn’t seen the birth. He had refused to attend any of his children’s births. The nurses kept assuring her that no one had made, could possibly have made, a mistake. So Marie had little choice but to bring her home.
Elizabeth was different, always — strange. Marie hated to use that word about any of her children, especially her youngest, but she could find no other word to describe her. Elizabeth was strange. Period.
From birth, the baby kept quiet. Rarely fussed. Hardly cried. She started talking at six months, much earlier than the rest of her children, and started forming full sentences at just over a year old.
She spent most of her time alone or, once she learned how, reading. In fact, Elizabeth remained such a quiet child, Marie could easily forget about her. It made her nervous. Elizabeth was too quiet.
Even her scent was all wrong. Babies smelled warm and sweet, of milk and talcum powder. Elizabeth’s scent reminded her of meat just beginning to
But there was something else wrong with Elizabeth, something more serious than her near silence, her behavior, her scent. Even more serious than that alien feeling, which Marie had tried to dismiss as simple post-partum depression, although it never did go away entirely.
When Marie was really being honest with herself, which didn’t happen often, she could admit what really disturbed her most about her daughter.
Her eyes. Elizabeth had silver eyes.
Not always. Most of the time they looked gray. But sometimes, they changed to silver. Occasionally, Marie even thought she could see them glowing, like a cat’s. Especially at night. There Elizabeth would be, lying on her back, perfectly quiet in her crib, her eyes strangely open, shining faintly in the darkness. Marie would tell herself that Elizabeth’s eyes merely reflected the nightlight in a bizarre fashion. After all, none of her other children’s eyes ever glowed. But it still didn’t make her any easier to face, late at night, as silver eyes stared at her from the darkness. They seemed so old, so ancient. Eyes that had seen thousands of years and hundreds of lifetimes. Those eyes peered out from her newborn’s face, watching her every move, strangely calculating, full of adult understanding and knowledge. She felt afraid, if she were being honest … all alone in the room with those peculiar silver eyes watching, watching, always watching.
Nonsense, she reassured herself. Surely, she could not be afraid of her own infant daughter! What would her husband say? Plenty probably, and most of it with his fists.
Still, she found herself checking on Elizabeth less and less. She argued with herself: Elizabeth didn’t fuss much anyway. Marie didn’t need to check on her so often — not like she did with her other, noisy, “normal” babies.
Her other children. Such a joy they were, her four boys and other girl — Peter, Mark, Mike, Chad and Linda. All healthy, regular children, with coarse dark hair, brown eyes and a little bit of baby fat on their bones. They looked the way children should look, the way her children should look, like their parents. But more importantly, they acted the way children should act — loud, boisterous, rough, needy. Marie loved them for it, loved how she couldn’t get a moment’s peace when they played together. Even when their play turned to fighting, she still preferred it to Elizabeth’s silent, eerie presence.
But Marie loved Elizabeth, too. Loved her fiercely, with the same passion she felt for her other children. Marie knew she did. She told herself she did, time and time again. The fact that she felt relief when Elizabeth wasn’t around meant nothing. She just needed time away from her children, after all. Almost all mothers welcomed the time they had away from their constant, children-related responsibilities. It didn’t mean she loved them any less. It didn’t mean anything at all.
Title: Lost (Captive Heart Book One)
Author: Carrie Aarons
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 26, 2016
We knew each other a lifetime ago. And then...We lost childhoods. We lost opportunities. We lost love. Fate is giving us another chance. But a chance at what? Because even though we’ve been brought back to each other under the worst of circumstances… We are still. So. Damn. Lost.
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About The Author
Author of romance novels such as Red Card and the Captive Heart Duet, Carrie Aarons writes sexy, swoony and sarcastic characters who won't get out of her head until she puts them down on a page.Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book. She loves spinning tales that include dapper men, women with attitude, and the occasional hunky athlete. When she isn't in what her husband calls a "writing coma", Carrie is freeing up her jam-packed DVR, starting her latest DIY project, or planning her next travel adventure. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, who is more than happy to watch sports while his wife plots love stories.
Pre-Order FOUND, the sequel to the Captive Heart Duet
Hot & Nerdy 2
Hunter walked into his bedroom and bounced on the bed, waking Sydney.
She grunted at him. “It’s Saturday. And we played a gig last night. I should get to sleep in.”
“You did sleep in. It’s almost noon.”
She rolled over. “I hate morning people.”
Hunter laughed. Then he leaned over and kissed his way up her spine. “I have to go to Comic Con. I promised Adam I’d help out today.”
“Don’t you want to come, too? Free and Sam will be here soon. We’re all driving together.”
She rolled over and opened one eye to look at him. “Comic Con?”
“Adam and Reese are selling their book. It’ll be fun.”
She sat up and opened both eyes. “What the hell are you wearing?”
He stood and straightened his jacket. He picked up the hat he’d left on the dresser and posed. “I’m Indiana Jones.”
“Because it’s Comic Con. Dressing up is half the fun.”
“I thought dressing up was Free’s thing.” She reached for the coffee he’d set on the nightstand for her.
“It is. Except for today. I think I look good.”
“Yeah, except you’re wearing a leather jacket. In August.”
“The convention center will be air-conditioned.”
The doorbell rang. Hunter pointed at her. “You coming?”
He ran to let Free and Sam in. Free was wearing his god-awful Riddler costume. Of all the things Free owned, this was the one Hunter hated. “Really? You had to wear that?”
Sam stepped from behind Free. “What would go better with Batgirl?”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “You’re such nerds.”
“We’re nerds? You’re dressed up, too,” she said.
“First, I borrowed this costume from your boyfriend and his nerd closet. Second, Indiana Jones is cool.”
Free pointed at him. “He’s a college professor and an archaeologist. I think by definition, that’s nerdy.”
“Whatever.” Hunter turned and yelled toward the bedroom, “Are you ready, Syd?”
Sydney came around the corner a minute later, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. “What the hell?” She waved her pointer finger at them. “I am not dressing like that.”
Hunter shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He drove to the convention center since his minivan was more comfortable for them all to fit. This weekend was a nice break and end to summer. School was starting for teachers in a week and he couldn’t wait. Free had started working for his dad as expected right after graduation. Adam was the only one still in the same place.
Hunter really hoped the convention would give Adam the kick start he needed for his career. One of Adam’s biggest problems was that he was too cautious. He overthought everything. Hunter had really thought that adding Reese to his life would make Adam a little more easygoing.
Once they got into the convention center, Free said, “Adam and Reese are in Artist Alley. I’ll come by in a while. We have a couple of panels we want to get in on.”
With a nod to Hunter and Sydney, he grabbed Samantha’s hand and pulled her through the crowd. When he was gone, Sydney said, “He really gets into this, doesn’t he?”
Hunter nodded. “It’s easy for him to pretend to be someone else.”
“I haven’t seen him in costumes much lately.”
Hunter pointed them in the direction of Adam and Reese. “That’s because Cary doesn’t need the distraction at the health club anymore. And Free has Samantha, so he doesn’t need to impress anyone else.”
When they walked down an aisle of Artist Alley, Hunter saw Adam and Reese sitting behind a table. He sighed. Holding Sydney’s hand, he said, “They really need our help.”
“Nobody’s paying attention to them.”
Syd smiled. “Maybe they should’ve worn a costume.”
Hunter stopped in front of the table. “How do you expect to sell anything sitting there like that? Where are your book things?”
“Dude, we tried talking to people. You have any idea how exhausting it is to try to grab someone’s attention?”
“Yeah, yeah. Gimme some books.”
Adam came around the table with an armful of the sample booklets they’d printed and stapled. “I’ll come with you. Sydney will stay with Reese, right?”
Syd rolled her eyes but nodded. She and Reese weren’t exactly friends, but they got along. As he and Adam stepped away from the table, Hunter heard Syd telling Reese about Free and Sam and the costumes. The girls’ laughter followed them down the aisle.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“I told you I would be.”
“I know you’re busy getting ready for the school year. It’s cool that you made time for this. And convinced Sydney to come.” Adam blew out a breath.
Hunter took a moment to smile at a couple of women dressed as aliens and offer them a booklet. They each took one.
“It’s been a crazy couple of days,” Adam continued. “Reese and I split up yesterday to sit in on some workshops and I did pitch sessions.”
“Yeah, but that’s part of the problem. I think Reese and I went into this with different expectations. Or at least we have different ones now.”
“How do you mean?” Hunter paused again beside a group of women. “Excuse me. My artist friend here and his girlfriend wrote a really kick-ass comic. Here’s a sample.”
At first they looked startled that Hunter had interrupted them, but then they relaxed and each took a book. When he resumed walking beside Adam, he said, “And that, son, is how it’s done.”
Title: Finding Me (Second Chances, #2.5)
Author: Stephanie Rose
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: May 22, 2016
SynopsisI've always been lost . . . Abandoned by a father who didn't want me. Cherished by a stepfather, though I wasn’t his. Shattered by a boy who swore he loved me. But I belonged nowhere, to no one. Then I met Owen, the sweet-talking hockey player who made me love him. He gave me the courage to trust in someone besides myself. He showed me a love I longed for. When an unwanted ghost comes knocking on my door, my heartbreaking history threatens to repeat itself. But where do I turn if I lose everyone? And how do I find where I belong, when I’m still Finding Me? Finding Me is a spinoff from the Second Chances series and can be read as a standalone.
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ExcerptI couldn’t quite make eye contact with Ethan since the last time I came back to the apartment with Owen before Thanksgiving break. We caught Ethan naked in the hallway—on a date and thinking they had the place to themselves for a night. I was no prude, but seeing junk not belonging to my boyfriend turned me three shades of red. I hadn't even seen Owen's, but I . . . felt it . . . a lot. On my leg, against my stomach, sometimes rubbing my back if he was holding me from behind. Why I was so bashful I couldn't say, especially since I didn’t have a cherry to pop. But it was only one guy and only one time, shortly before he shredded my heart and then stomped all over it. Even though I couldn't make my virginity grow back, I wasn’t quite ready to go there again. However, not being ready for sex had absolutely nothing to do with wanting it. Our time together always ended with a scorching kiss and groping against the nearest wall. Owen’s Southern gentility was probably wearing thin these past few weeks. “Owen? The movie starts in a half hour!” I called as I strolled down the hallway. “Hey, City. Give me a minute, practice ran late.” Owen had just stepped out of the shower and was dripping freaking wet. The V on his hips disappeared into a towel cinched around his tapered waist. Water traveled from the stray tangled locks at his neck and trickled down over his ripped chest and his abs before disappearing into the bunched up material at his waist. I licked my parched lips and tried to remember how to speak. How many damn abs did he have? Six? Eight? I was gaping at a wet, half naked Owen while the corner of the bastard's mouth turned up in a smirk. I didn't have the faculties to scowl back. My tongue didn't want to work unless it was tracing the water trails across Owen's body. “Keep looking at me like that, baby. We won't be going anywhere tonight.”
About The AuthorStephanie Rose was born and raised in the Bronx, New York and still lives there with her superhero-obsessed husband and son. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Business and a day job in marketing, but she always has a story in her head. Her books are full of swoon-worthy men and feisty heroines. This lifelong New Yorker lives for Starbucks, book boyfriends, and 80s rock. Her voice is often mistaken for a Mob Wives trailer. Goodreads |Facebook | Twitter
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The Dream Protocol: Descent
Deirdre was falling from a great height. The air was cold and her hair blew up around her like a golden veil. Ice crystals collected in her curls and they turned rigid as she fell. And then she crashed headlong into a body of ice-cold water. The freezing temperature bit into her skin like a thousand pinpricks, and her eyes flew wide open. Above her was the light of the surface, but a powerful current was sucking her down, down, down into the dark. She flailed against the downward pull, kicking with her legs and reaching with her arms. She knew that the single breath of air in her lungs wouldn’t last much longer. At the last moment, just as she felt that she might open her mouth and drink down the dark water, the riptide from below released her. She kicked for the light, but soon the true horror of the ‘Mare became clear. The surface was sealed away with a thick layer of ice and frost. There would be no air for her lungs in this underwater prison. She beat her fists against the ice to no avail; the dark water wouldn’t let go. She was drowning with the surface just out of reach.
She tried to scream a curse at the Minister, but in this ‘Mare there was only silence. No sounds at all. She sucked down the freezing water and choked, over and over. Mercifully, she passed out. In that brief moment of unconsciousness, a hundred images flickered through her mind, each one like a photograph taken with a magnesium flash bulb. Images of Roenin, Flynn, and the red oak tree kept appearing. In the back of her mind her own voice formed a question: how does Roenin know about the Dream Protocol?
On the surface of the frost, something new came into the dream, something that the ‘Mare Makers would never have sequenced. The ice started to hiss and steam. A pattern wrote itself into the ice block; the five-circle symbol of the Makers. It burst into flame, melting the ice and cold all around the Maker’s daughter. Deirdre felt her body rising out of the water. In dream, she came Awake.
Hello amazing readers!
Welcome to the Book Blitz for
The Conch Shell of Doom by Ryan Hill!
Join us in celebrating this new release, and enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
Happy Book Birthday, Ryan!!
The Conch Shell of Doom by Ryan Hill Publication Date: May 24, 2016
Available for Purchase: Amazon
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Title: Game Maker
Series: Game Series #2
Author: BJ Harvey
Genre: Romantic Comedy with Heat
Release Date: May 26, 2016
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs
Photography by Lindee Robinson
Photography Models: Victoria Morin & Chad Demchick
From the USA Today bestselling author of the Bliss series comes a new spin off series featuring your favorite Bliss series characters who are yet to meet their match. This time it is Zach and Danika's turn. I’m a gamer by nature and by profession. I’m all about strategy, performance, and coming out on top. Five months ago I threw caution to the wind, and in the first miscalculated step of my twenty-one-year life, I made a move on my brother’s best friend. The first mistake we made was keeping our relationship secret. The next was going off half-cocked when a train wreck of epic proportions hit us. Now our secret is secret no more. As I struggle to deal with all of the swirling emotions, conflicted feelings, and the multitude of burned bridges that I need to mend, the one person who can help me through it all is the same man I need space from. To fix it I’ll have to pull on my big-girl panties, focus on what I truly want in life, and put everything I have into winning the most important game I’ll ever play. Life is a game, and it is what you make it. Coming out unscathed is a whole other matter.
BJ Harvey is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Bliss Series. She also regards herself as a smut peddler, suspense conjurer and a funny romance thinker upper.
An avid music fan, you will always find her singing some hit song badly but loving every minute of it.
She’s a wife, a mom to two beautiful girls, and hails from what she considers as the best country in the world—New Zealand.
He's mysterious and alluring,
Dominant and powerful.
He keeps her grounded,
And lets her fly.
After a date ends in disaster, Zara Bandini is drawn into a conspiracy of dark lies and hidden motives. Bidding farewell to blissful ignorance, she must betray those who trust her to prevent evil from murdering innocent civilians.
Raven guides her, shields her, and seduces her…
Now Zara has to protect her heart while saving the world.
It was after ten PM by the time she got to Purdy’s on that particular Friday night. Zara was exhausted and needed sleep, but she would never flout tradition and miss an appointment with herself. In the warm interior of Purdy’s, she enjoyed the solid mahogany of the stocked bar and the gold pinstripe of the wallpaper that glowed under muted lighting.
Catering to an affluent clientele, Purdy’s held single malts and champagne to fulfill the expensive tastes of those who frequented it. It was a far cry from her father’s smoke filled kitchen where a layer of grease covered everything.
After seating herself on a brown leather stool, the bartender brought over her usual drink. She sipped the cool liquid and exhaled.
“That’s some glass of wine.”
Turning to her left, Zara saw a striking blond man come up beside her. One of the reasons she loved this bar was its patrons. In the center of the city’s business district, this classy joint was overflowing with rich, influential people and the wannabes who listed “networking” as a hobby on their resumes.
Designer suits and smiling faces charmed each other until hands were shaken and deals made. This was a place for the elite to gather and praise each other for being so filthy rich and successful. Given where she’d come from, there were often times she fazed out of the moment, edges became blurred, until everything seemed dream-like.
For her, the meaning of success had morphed through the years and frivolous adventure was long forgotten. The most effective way she could make a positive difference in the world was through careful use of her position as Premium Personnel Coordinator to Grant McCormack, CEO of Cormack Industries.
The clean-shaven man beside her flashed a row of straight white teeth that gleamed almost as much as his shirt under his tailored grey blazer that matched his slacks. All of the men she interacted with on a daily basis were assured and this guy’s arrogance was proven when he took up occupancy on the stool next to hers and leaned in close.
“Can I get you another glass?” he asked.
“I just started this one,” she said, taking another sip of wine while not allowing herself to smile. When dealing with intelligent men who usually enjoyed a puzzle, she’d learned it was best not to give too much away about her own mood. “Did I ask you to sit down?”
“No need,” he said, undeterred, his smirk remained in situ. “It’s a public bar, anyone can sit anywhere.”
Leaving him guessing, she didn’t give any physical hint of her interest. “And you chose the stool right next to mine?” she asked. The establishment was busy, but there were a half a dozen free stools at the bar, so he didn’t have to choose the seat right next to hers. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners? It’s polite to be invited to join a person.”
His confidence remained in place and he twisted his body to face hers, trapping her crossed legs between him and the bar. The flirtation in his countenance matched his positioning and his gaze danced over her figure. “Women like a man to take charge.”
“Do they?” she asked, keeping her expression loose as she examined the bottles displayed behind the bar. Remaining aloof didn’t mean she didn’t notice how impeccable he was and how good his expensive cologne smelled. It wasn’t too overpowering and merged with the scent of the hair gel that kept his locks in check. But she had to portray herself as a challenge, to match his confidence with sass if she wanted to intrigue him.
“Yes,” he said. “Women want an alpha, a guy who is strong enough to look out for her.”
This conversation was going to happen whether she coveted it or not, so she rotated to accept him into her company. “To look out for her?” she asked, dragging her fingertips over the bulge of her glass to settle them on the rim. “Why is that?”
Having known from a young age that writing was her passion Scarlett has spent large portions of her life dreaming up men, and women, and putting them together to see what they get up to.
"The characters write the story. I just get it down on paper for them."
Finding her solace in books, reading and writing, have been her eternal companion through all the highs and lows in her life.
Now is time to let the characters flourish and to live forever as she shares them with you.
Good luck on your adventures.
I'm a Texas gal with a wonderful husband, an amazing six year old son, and an adorable newborn baby boy!
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