Friday, July 31, 2015

Spotlight on Emily Snow

cooltext120053742656324   emily_snow_banner2



Emily Snow is The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Devoured series, Tidal, Wrecked, and Uncovered. She loves books, sexy bad boys, and really loud rock music, so naturally, she writes stories about naughty rockers. Visit her on Facebook, on her blog at, or chat with her on Twitter @emilysnowbks for news, teasers, and contests.





* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


  My name is Lizzie Connelly, and I have it all. The gorgeous apartment. The new job most women would rip out their own souls for—working for Margaret Emerson at Emerson & Taylor. I have one of those lives you’ve always dreamt about, the kind you only see on HBO. But, the thing is, that life is a lie. A façade. It all started with one call. “Everything you know about your story—your father’s story—is a lie. It’s up to you to uncover everything.” One call, and I turned my world upside down to dig my way into Margaret’s life—the woman who I’d never laid eyes on until recently. My stepmother who took everything after my father died fourteen years ago. The plan was simple—figure out what role she played in my father’s death and expose her to the world. But here’s another thing: simplicity doesn’t exist, and my plans are flawed from the beginning because I never anticipated Oliver. Sexy, too smart for his own goddamn good, and infuriating, he’s the one person who could blow my plans to uncover Margaret. She’s his mother, and in another life, that would have made him my stepbrother. I want to pretend that none of that matters, that I can simply finish what I came to do without sparing him a second glance and another thought. Like I said, though, there’s no such thing as simplicity. My real name is Gemma Emerson. And this is my story.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Ever since Lily died two years ago, Evie has been lost. She exists but doesn’t live, and she copes the only way she knows how: by wrecking things.
She exposes her dad’s affairs, ends things with her longtime boyfriend, and just last semester she destroyed her music scholarship. Desperate to break away from all the destruction she’s caused and start over, Evie reinvents herself at her new university.
But then Rhys, her new voice instructor, happens. He’s gorgeous, insanely talented and a part of the dark past she’s trying to overcome. Rhys’s brother is the reason why Evie's life is such a mess right now, the reason why Lily, Evie's sister, is dead. Even though Rhys is the last person Evie should ever want, for the first time in two years, wrecking things seems…right.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Second Verse

The first glance into Emily Snow's next book...
Release Date TBD
“Your sister is insane,” I said, shooting a glance across the parking lot at Hazel, who returned the gesture with her trademark icy green glare. What the hell was her problem with me? Leaning back on the bench, I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes to match her expression. “I swear, she makes Cersei look tame.” Emmett arched his brows and lowered his gaze. I tilted my face up, swallowing hard when our eyes met. “Who the hell is that?” he drawled, a smile teasing the corners of his full lips. “Well don’t just sit there lookin’ all sneaky, Kinsey, who is it?” I wasn’t looking sneaky. I was looking at him. At the tiny bump on the bridge of his nose. The shadow on his chin from not shaving this morning—he should never shave, ever. At his eyes. Green like his sister’s, but so different they made it hard for me to breathe because his eyes were everything. I was looking at him and that was just as bad as looking sneaky, because I wanted things with him I couldn’t explain. Sliding off the bench, I shoved my hands into the back pocket of my cutoffs and looked over my shoulder. I almost expected the bronze face under all that curly brown hair to go up in flames when I caught him staring at my ass, but he simply grinned. He wanted me to know he was watching me, wanting me, and the knot in the pit of my stomach tugged even tighter. We’re friends, I reminded myself. He’s nineteen and won’t give my ass another thought after the summer, and besides, his grandmother has done way too much to help me for me to screw myself over by getting involved with him. But when he stood, pressing his tall, built body close to mine to whisper in my ear, “You gonna answer me, gorgeous?” and I breathed in his scent, it was hard to stick to my guns. Gorgeous. No wonder everyone said he was going to be a star. One word. One softly whispered word, and I was starstruck. I held my breath. Released. Repeated. “She’s a … book character. Epic fantasy,” I murmured at last. I took a step away from him and forced a laugh. “She’s like the queen of all messed up siblings. If they ever bring her to the big screen, maybe your crazy sister can play her.” Soundtrack: "Bottoms Up" by Brantley Gilbert (Can you guess what genre of music my hero performs?!)  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *



Wicked Mafia Gets Lei'd

August 1st, 11:00 AM - 4:00 PM

Website | Facebook Page | Buy Tickets | Hotel Info

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This spotlight was brought to you by:

Getting Hot by Mia Storm Chapter Reveal

Rules of engagement:
1) You have the right to use force to defend yourself.
2) Fire may be returned to stop a hostile attack.
3) You may not seize the property of others to accomplish your mission.
4) Detention of civilians is authorized in self-defense.

Delilah Morgan and her older sister Destiny have been on their own for two years, since their parents burned down the family home and went to jail for cooking meth. She’s street smart and tough. Nothing about her says sixteen, and she’s not about to tell anyone, especially Bran, the hot ex-marine bartender Destiny has her eye on. He’s stable and successful and everything her sister needs to keep them off the street. The only problem, something about Bran inspires her and suddenly she’s writing the best music she ever has. About him.

Branson Silo knows what it means to be in the line of fire. Home for a year from his second tour of duty in Afghanistan, he thinks he’s safe…until he meets Delilah. Despite her sharp tongue that makes him want to take cover, he can’t deny the attraction. But when he hires her to play weekends at his family’s saloon, he finds out she’s more than he can handle…which is saying something considering he used to blow things up for a living.
When the grenade finally explodes and the shrapnel flies, will Bran be left standing? Or has he survived years at war only to be taken down by Jail Bait?


Chapter 1

I shouldn’t have fucked her last week. That was my mistake, and I feel like a douche—something I’m not used to.
I watch Destiny tuck a long strand of platinum hair behind her ear with her pen as she finishes taking drink orders at the table near the door. She shoots me a secret smile when she turns and makes her way over, and I mentally shoot myself for getting caught looking. This train’s already careening down the track, barely holding onto the rails, and when I pull shit like this, it only picks up momentum.
“We got Hendricks?” she asks, slapping her order on the ancient mahogany bar between us.
I look over the order. “Closest thing I got is Tanqueray.”
The smile falls off her face and she blows out a sigh. “I’ll ask him.”
I follow the curve where her tiny waist blooms into a killer ass as she turns and heads back to the table.
She’s hot. That’s what it boils down to. When I took her home last week, it was after her first training shift with Carol. We’d sat at the bar and knocked back a few after closing and I got caught up in everything she had going on. I totally missed the signs. I didn’t see that she was looking for more than a hookup until after it was too late—until she didn’t leave after we’d done the deed.
The only guy at the table with three women—some total wannabe with a dark suit jacket over a turtleneck and pressed jeans—scowls and gives Destiny some lip. I can’t hear what he says over the piped in Kat Country, but she shrugs and says something back, then offers me an apologetic squint when the guy pushes up from his seat. He starts my direction on polished loafers, but his eyes widen slightly and he pulls up short when he sees me.
The reaction’s not unusual. When I left for boot camp six years ago, I was already in decent shape. I was Oak Crest High’s first ever (and only, as far as I know) four sport athlete all for years—football in the fall, wrestling in the winter, and baseball and track in the spring. Which is probably a big part of the reason my grades weren’t good enough to do anything but enlist. But the Marines made all that training look like fucking Romper Room, and it was only a matter of weeks before my bulk didn’t fit into any of my old clothes anymore. Since Pop owns the local gym and my sister Brenda runs it, when I’m not working behind Mom’s bar at the Sam Hill Saloon, I spend most of my time lifting weights. I’ve managed to stay in pretty decent shape…which means guys like this pansy ass are generally intimidated. Course, the tattooed six-foot-three thing doesn’t hurt the intimidation factor. Since I let my dark flattop grow out, I look more like a biker than an ex-Marine.
After a beat, his shiny shoes start moving again but he stops three feet short of the bar, out of my wingspan. “Tanqueray or Tanqueray number ten?” he demands, putting on a “big man” show for the women he’s here with.
I step aside to show him the rack behind me and he flinches a little at my movement. “For top shelf gin, Tanqueray’s what I got.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales his disappointment, then scans my top shelf again. “Tanqueray isn’t even in the same league as Hendricks.”
I shrug. “You want the citrus, I’d go with the Seagrams. Something drier, I’ve got Beefeaters.”
He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling as if my suggestions are all so far below him he’s afraid of getting a nosebleed if he has to look all the way down at them. “Just give me the Tanqueray. Make it a Tom Collins so I don’t have to taste it.”
He stalks back to his table and drops into his seat as I start on their order.
Destiny comes over and watches me mix. “That guy’s a jerk,” she say with a flick of her eyes back toward the wannabe professor. “Thank God he’s Carol’s to deal with in fifteen.”
“You’re giving Carol the tip?” I say with raised eyebrows.
Her lip curls. “Guys like that don’t tip.”
I lift my eyes to him as I shake his Tom Collins. “He give you a hard time?”
“He thought I should’ve known what kind of Tanqueray we have.” Her face scrunches. “I didn’t even know there were different kinds.”
I glance at the table again. City folk for sure. Probably up here in the foothills for something at the college. “Guess he didn’t realize he’d wandered out of his natural habitat.”
She busts out a laugh as I pour his drink into the highball. “So, I was thinking…” she says when her laugh dies. “I could swing by your place when you get off. If you want.”
“Listen…” I start, setting the drink on her tray. But just as I open my mouth to tell her I don’t do relationships, Mom shoves through the swinging door from the kitchen. Five years in the Marines and two tours in Afghanistan, and I’ve yet to come across another single person who intimidates me…except my mom. She makes some of my Marine COs look like kindergarten teachers.
“Hey Vicky,” Destiny says. “Has Carol punched in yet?” She tosses her eyes at Mr. Hendrick’s. “I’m giving her that table as soon as she does.”
“She just clocked in,” Mom answers, glancing suspiciously at the table. “What’s the issue?”
Destiny shrugs a shoulder and picks up the tray of drinks I slide across the bar to her. “That guy needs to get over himself. Carol’s better at dealing with people like that.”
It’s the “take no crap” chromosome in the Silo family gene pool. My cousin is almost as intimidating as Mom. She has a way of putting pricks like that in their place without them even realizing how it happened.
Just as I’m thinking it, I see her pass by the porthole in the wooden door to the kitchen, pulling her dark curls back into a ponytail. A second later, she pushes through the door.
She looks at the three of us and her eyes narrow as she slings her short, black apron under her bulging belly and ties it. “You guys do know that when everyone clams up and stares at you when you walk into a room, that’s a dead giveaway they were talking about you, right?”
“All good, cuz,” I say, lifting one hand in surrender while picking up my bar rag with the other.
She gives us a glare that could fry bacon. “I’m not fat.”
“No, you’re not,” Destiny says, handing her the tray of drinks. “But I’m punching out and I need you to take that table.”
Carol’s gaze shifts to the table in question. “What’s wrong with them?”
“The guy’s a sanctimonious prick,” I say wiping down the bar. “He needs to be reminded his shit still stinks in the way only you can.”
A slow smile pulls at her mouth and she takes the drink tray.
“He’s the Tom Collins,” Destiny says. “The chardonnay is for the girl on his right and the Cosmos are for the other two.”
She bats her eyelashes and starts toward the table. “Coming right up,” she says, all breathy and sweet.
Mom turns to me once she’s gone, her frown deepening. “I came out here to remind you to put a note in the drawer if you pull petty cash, Bran.”
I give her a dubious smirk. “Really, Ma? I’ve been doing this for almost a year. Think I’ve got the drill down by now.”
“Well, the drawer came up exactly sixty short last night. So how else do you explain that?”
I feel my brows lift. My drawer’s never off by anything more than a few pennies. “You sure you didn’t pull it for the wine order?”
She scowls at me and crow’s feet crease the corners of her eyes. “I might be old, but I’m not senile yet.”
For her age, I have to say Mom looks pretty damn amazing. She met Dad sometime in the stone ages, when she used to dance at a strip club in San Francisco, and even still, I can see why he picked her out of the crowd. She’s got a deep worry line at the inside corner of her right eyebrow, but otherwise her face is deceptively youthful. The only thing that gives her age away is the skunk stripe that starts on the left side of her forehead and winds through the sea of dark hair pinned onto the back of her head like a the first swirl of cream into black coffee.
“I didn’t take any cash, Ma. Seriously.”
She sighs wearily and rubs her eyes. “It’s been a long day. I’ll check the numbers again tomorrow morning when I can think.”
I lean down and give her a peck on the cheek. “’Night, Ma.”
She hooks her elbow around my neck and yanks me in for a hug. “See you tomorrow, baby boy.”
She’s the only one I’d ever let call me baby or honey or any shit like that because, like I said, I’m a little scared of her. I watch her disappear through the kitchen door.
And then it’s just Destiny, waiting for an answer.
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I turn to her. “Listen, Destiny. There’s no question you are fucking amazing, and I had an awesome time the other night…but I feel like you might have gotten the wrong idea about what this is.” I drop the bar rag and splay my hands on the bar between us, holding her gaze. I may be a dick, but I’ve got a moral compass that points in the right general direction most of the time. She deserves to be told straight up. “I’m not the kind of guy that does relationships, and even if I were, you wouldn’t want one with me.”
It’s not like I expect her to whine or beg. I’ve only known her for a week, since Mom hired her for day shifts, but she seems generally more together than that.
What I also don’t expect is a shameless smile to spread over her face as she leans closer. “So, are you saying that pounding me until I scream your name is too much of a commitment?”
I blow out a laugh and give my head a slow shake. “This isn’t how I pictured this conversation going.”
She pushes away from the bar and unties her apron. “I’ll be back before closing. Maybe have a drink or two. And when you leave, if you take me with you, you won’t be sorry. If not…” She shrugs. “…no harm no foul.”
I watch as she disappears through the kitchen door behind Mom to punch out. Carol drops another drink order on the bar on her way to the kitchen and I go back to work.
The Friday evening crowd picks up and it’s not long before all the tables are full and patrons start lining the bar. I dim the lights—the closest we come to ambiance.
The Sam Hill Saloon has been here since the gold rush, when the town of Oak Crest was established as a mining camp. After they got married, Dad brought Mom out here and bought her this bar to keep her “busy,” since he didn’t want her taking off her clothes for horny men anymore. She got it in the divorce and has run it for the last thirty years, but the truth is, almost nothing here has changed for nearly three quarters of a century. There are pictures on the walls of grimy gold miners lined up at this very bar. Even most of the chunky wooden barstools and tables have survived. At some point, some owner lined the front wall under the windows with three booths, and Mom added a big-screen TV, but other than that, it looks exactly like the pictures. And there’s the faint stench of stale beer emanating from the floor planking that no amount of bleach will ever get out.
But it’s a landmark, and the only bar in town, so we’re usually busy.
I’m blending a pair of frozen daiquiris with one hand and shaking a martini with the other when out of the corner of my eye, I see a solo blonde slide onto the barstool at the end, near the beer taps. I finish what I’m doing and prepare the tray for Carol to pick up before glancing over and seeing its Destiny.
A guy in the middle of the bar makes eye contact and nods at his empty beer mug. I grab it and start filling without really looking up at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you again till closer to closing.”
“Sorry?” she says. “Are you talking to me?”
The voice is off—slightly raspy and a pitch lower than her usual. I look up again and squint at her, wondering if she’s already started drinking. She’s taken her straight hair down from the ponytail she always wears it in and it’s not as long as I remember it from the other night—the only other time I’ve seen it down. There’s also a fading blue stripe cutting through the platinum over her right ear that I’ve never noticed before.
“What can I get you?” I ask her instead of pushing it.
I’m already reaching for the vodka and cranberry to start on a Madras, her drink of choice last week, when she answers, “Rum and Coke.”
“That’s different,” I mutter, shooting her another glance.
She gives me a puzzled look. “Look, I really just wanted to find out if you hire entertainment.”
My face mirrors her puzzlement, I’m sure, as I try to process her statement. “Why?”
She hunches to the side and pulls something up from her feet. I see it’s a battered black guitar case when the narrow end peeks over the top of the bar. “Because I need a gig.”
“Didn’t know you played,” I say, pushing her drink across the bar to her.
That baffled look is back as she pulls it toward her and takes a swallow. I can’t help following the curve of her long neck downward toward a pair of large round tits perfectly outlined by her snug, low-cut T-shirt. She is definitely hot, and if we’re on the same page, then I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. She wants me to fuck her till she screams? I’m perfectly capable of that. She sets her drink down and catches me staring. She cuts me that wicked smile again, causing my cock to stir. I return the smile, sending the innuendo right back at her.
She props her elbows onto the bar and leans forward, giving me a clear look down her shirt. “Considering that we’ve never met before, I don’t find that surprising.”
I’m so absorbed in images of my face buried in those magnificent tits that it takes me a second to process what she said.
My eyes snap to hers. “Wait…what?”
She reaches across the bar, offering me a hand. “Lilah.”
There’s a full second all I can do is stare, wondering if this is one of those split personality things you hear about sometimes. And in that second, through the dim lighting, I take in all the tiny details—a dark mole at the outer corner of her right eye; her eyes, silver instead of blue; the missing white crescent-shaped scar above Destiny’s right eyebrow; and lips, a little fuller than I remember—which are smirking at me now.
“You’re not Destiny,” I say as it all clicks.
It’s not a question, but she shakes her head. “No. I am most definitely not Destiny.”
“Twins?” I ask.
She cocks her head playfully. “What do you think?”
“You’ve got to be. You’re fucking identical except for the eyes.” I tap my forehead. “And you’re missing a scar.”
Her perfect blond eyebrow raises in amusement. “She’s the pretty one and I’m the smart one.”
I bark out a laugh as I reach across and shake her hand. “Bran Silo. Good to meet you.”
She doesn’t let go of my hand for a second after we’re done shaking—just long enough to send a clear message that she’s interested.
A knot forms in my gut, and I realize it’s guilt. Destiny and I have an understanding, but regardless, I’m pretty sure fucking her sister would be way outside the bounds of gentlemanly behavior. Not that anyone would ever mistake me for a gentleman. “Destiny never mentioned she had a sister.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” She takes another drink, nearly polishing it off in a few big gulps.
I tip my head at it her glass. “Another?”
“My limit is one,” she says, pushing her glass toward me. “Just Coke this time, thanks.”
Carol sweeps by on her way to the kitchen, dropping an order on my bar. “Thought you left,” she says to Lilah without slowing down. “Careful or your favorite customer might ask for you,” she adds, jerking her head at Mr. Hendricks as she disappears through the swinging door.
I bark out a laugh as I scoop ice into Lilah’s glass and fill it with Coke. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”
Lilah shrugs. “Happens all the time.” She slides out of her chair, lifting the guitar case. “So do you want to hear me play or what?”
I look around the crowded room, loud with chatter, drowning out the background music. “We don’t generally have live entertainment,” I say, which is really an understatement. We’ve never had live entertainment. But for some reason, I’m not willing to shut Lilah down so fast.
When my eyes find her again, annoyed impatience shines loud and clear out of her gaze. “So that’s a no?”
I feel my mouth pull into a cocky half-smile. “I didn’t say that.”
She opens her case and pulls out her guitar, unabashedly climbing through the window I left ajar for her. I watch as she sets herself up on the stool and rests the guitar in her lap, gripping it softly but confidently. She starts strumming, and I expect her to be discrete, since this is basically an audition, but there’s not a shred of self-consciousness or embarrassment anywhere in her disposition as she begins to belt out lyrics—an old No Doubt song that I can’t remember the name of.
The way she plays, as if on instinct; the passion in her voice, and the fact that she’s really fucking good, starts to turn heads at the tables closest to us. As they quiet and listen, more tables still, and soon the only thing she’s competing to be heard over is the Kat Country on the speakers. But she doesn’t decrease her volume. If anything, as eyes find her, she becomes louder, feeding off the attention.
I reach under the bar and click off the stereo, then lean onto the back counter and cross my arms, listening as she finishes one song and launches into the next.
A guy at the bar pulls a five from his pocket and flags me down with it. I grab his beer mug, but he shakes his head. “Is there a tip jar?” he asks with a nod toward Lilah.
I pull a fresh mug from under the bar and he slips the five inside, then I set it at the end of the bar near Lilah. She cuts me a smile and her eyes slide down my body as she sings.
And fuck me. I lean my hands on the bar and press against the lower counter when my dick won’t yield to my will. Without a doubt, everything Destiny has going on, Lilah’s got that and more.


About the Mia Storm:

Mia Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending. Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite. Connect with her online at , on Twitter at @MiaStormAuthor, and on Facebook at

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Burn by JC Emery Blog Tour

Tragedy cuts deep. Revenge burns deeper.
The blood of their enemies coats the leather of their cuts and a trail of bodies lie in their wake, but the Forsaken Motorcycle Club isn't done yet. Carlo Mancuso still needs to pay for his sins. Nobody knows that more than Ian Buckley, the Treasurer for Forsaken.
Ian prefers his pleasure mixed with pain and he's only ever at peace when he's doling out justice. Convinced that he's too unstable and sadistic to take an old lady, he keeps his trysts, like all of his relationships, brief and anonymous. But with his club at war, and the stakes being so personal, Ian's feeling the events around him more deeply than he expects.
Mindy Mercer is the sweet daughter of Fort Bragg’s most respectable cop. At least that’s how the town sees her. Very few people know the Mindy who hides her tracks and battles her cravings by lying to everyone around her. She thinks she has control of her addiction until she suffers an attack that leaves her searching for a way out of her own personal hell.
Mindy has never been more desperately in need of a savior and Ian has never seen a more beautifully destroyed creature in his life. Their attraction is intense, but their damage is extreme. Some scars never heal, and some people never get better.
Love is never more painful than when it can kill you.“I didn’t even say anything.”
“Didn’t have to.” He stops at the deck, just feet from the front door. I have to back up a step to keep from literally stepping on his toes. “You get away with a lot with me because of shit you don’t even understand. I’ll tolerate whatever crap you want to throw my way as long as you remember your place with the club and with my brother.”
“I don’t understand.” I feel like I’ve been dropped into the conversation halfway through because I’m pretty much lost now.


“I like talking to you. I want to get to know you.”
“What’s the point in getting to know me when you’re just going to end up hating me eventually, anyway?” This is why I don’t want to bond with her. I don’t want to let her in and to love her the way Ma does, the way Michael does. Even Ryan loves her and I’ll be damned if Pop doesn’t love her too. She’s squirrelly like that.
“I can’t hate you. If I can’t hate my father, then I can’t hate you either. I won’t ask you not to hurt him, and I can’t tell you how I’ll feel when he dies because I don’t know how I’ll feel. But I can tell you this— he stole you and my mother from me. My father hurt you, and he hurt me in a different way. He hurt Michael too, but he might be too proud to admit that just yet. Carlo Mancuso has his family and I have mine.”
She takes a step closer and reaches out, grabbing my arm. The tears she was holding back slide down her cheeks as she stares up at me.
“I don’t like violence and I hate to see people get hurt, but no matter who I am today, I was a principessa, a Mancuso. I understand the need for justice and deep down I know that this war goes back further than last year and that it was only a matter of time for my father to get what’s coming to him.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I find myself saying. My chest aches and my jaw is tight. I reject the emotions that make me weak and force myself to think about anything but how good it feels to get this gift from her. “Every year on your birthday, we have a party. It used to be just me and Ma, and then when Pop and Ryan came around, they’d join in. It was always just something we did. Ma never wanted to forget either of you, and she made sure I never could. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to make this better for her.”

Ride Blurb

Death comes in Armani. Salvation comes in leather.

Principessa to the Mancuso crime family, Alexandra knows a thing or two about living outside the bounds of the law. Suffocated by the future her father has laid out for her, she makes a choice she can't take back, changing the entire trajectory of her life.

Thrust into the dark and dangerous world of the Forsaken Motorcycle Club for her own protection, Alex finds herself faced with the last thing she needs right now: the man of her dreams. He’s sex in leather, the devil incarnate, and one hell of a kisser. But he’s also off-limits. Ryan Stone can be her friend, but he’s forbidden to be her lover.

Third-generation Forsaken, Ryan knows nothing other than life on two wheels, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He enjoys the many privileges that come with the patch, and the only laws he recognizes are the ones set-forth by his club. That is, until who he wants more than anything isn’t allowed on the back of his bike —or in his bed. Balancing his desire for her body, and need to keep her safe, Ryan tries to keep Alex at a distance. Finally having made a choice for herself, she’s done hearing the word “no” and will push boundaries even Ryan himself doesn’t dare cross.

Love is never more tempting than when it’s forbidden.

Thrash Blurb

Loneliness suffocates the heart. Acceptance breaks down walls.

As a Lost Girl to the Forsaken Motorcycle Club, Nicole Whelan knows how to party. She’s not cut-out for relationships and her life is way too complicated for anything more than casual encounters. But one night when she falls into Duke’s bed at the clubhouse, he sees something in her that he can’t let go of—no matter how many times she tries to run.

Having been left to raise her teenage brother, Jeremy, she’s already got her hands full and isn’t looking for anymore complications. But Duke’s just watched his best friend fall for the only girl he couldn’t have, and then almost lose her so shortly after, shaking him to his core. Faced with his own loneliness, he’s more determined than ever to break down Nic’s walls and show her that he can be good for her; but he’s got a bad track record and she’s got a bad temper. Changing his ways isn’t easy when he’s not sure what he’s even changing for.

The violence and turmoil are at an all-time high, and Forsaken is in a vulnerable place when a twist of fate breathes new life into the club. It’s a much-needed beacon of hope for the embattled biker family, even if everyone’s not exactly on board. With Duke and Nic’s relationship already on shaky ground, and something even more important at stake, the Forsaken Motorcycle Club will fight like hell to keep their family together and whole.

Love is never more precious than when it’s new.

REV Blurb

With the looming threat from the Mancuso Crime Family, the Forsaken Motorcycle Club is preparing for a war that could destroy them. Grady, the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms, knows that love makes you weak, and he has zero interest in adding to his liabilities– especially now. He’s already got his teenage daughter who keeps him on his toes and a beef within the club that could fracture his relationship with a fellow brother for good.

For Holly Mercer, her life is finally getting on track and the last thing she wants is trouble from her hometown’s resident outlaws. Keeping her nose clean is easier said than done, when suddenly she finds herself embroiled in club business. Holly might like the idea of being with a real-life bad boy, but even being in the same room with tough-as-nails Grady flusters her.

When Holly inadvertently finds herself on Mancuso’s radar, she has two choices: trust that Grady will protect her, or continue to refuse the club’s help. Both roads are dangerous, but only one has the chance to damage her beyond repair.

Love is never more dangerous than when it can destroy you.


Young love is always perfect. Until it's not.
Cheyenne Grady is a total daddy's girl to her bad-ass father, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Forsaken Motorcycle Club. She's funny, and kind, and she just wants that deep, earth-shattering love like her dad has with her school secretary, Holly. But Cheyenne's been looking in the wrong direction, because the only good that can come from the way she looks at Jeremy Whelan is a lesson in heartbreak.
Jeremy always wanted to prospect for the Forsaken Motorcycle Club and wear the same patch as his father. When a life-long dream becomes reality, Jeremy realizes that the outlaw lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. Nor is it easy on relationships. He wants to be a good man, but temptation is everywhere.
Cheyenne is beautiful, and strong, and exactly what Jeremy could have forever. As long as he doesn't screw it up.

Love is never more powerful than the first time.

About The Author

As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head and pursuing her bachelor's degree in English. JC is a San Francisco Bay Area native, but has also called both Texas and Louisiana home. These days she rocks her flip flops year round in Northern California and can't imagine a climate more beautiful.

JC writes adult, new adult, and young adult fiction. She dabbles in many different genres including science fiction, horror, chick lit, and murder mysteries, yet she is most enthralled by supernatural stories-- and everything has at least a splash of romance.

Heart Breaker by Harper Kincaid Blog Tour & Giveaway



Book 2: Love wasn’t in the script… Break on Through,

Former man-eater Samantha Lockhart has been an actress long enough to be able to spot a smooth-talking player a mile away. Dark-haired, bourbon-eyed, a wicked smile…Kyle Masterson is one of the best.

From his bad-boy motorcycle boots to his good-ole-boy Southern drawl, everything about Kyle screams sex appeal. But after a tragedy hits close to home, Sam tries to convince herself she’s done with players on and off the stage. 

Kyle, a V-twin-riding divorce attorney, has witnessed enough horror stories of love gone wrong to know that while women are welcome in his bed, they’re definitely not in his future. But once the petite, mercurial redhead catches his eye, he can’t think of anything—or anyone—else. 

Sam’s trust doesn’t come easy, but the more time they spend together, the deeper they both fall. Yet just as they’re breaking through each other’s barriers, someone who doesn’t like being upstaged makes a deadly play of his own. And if Sam refuses, she may not be able to breathe a word to anyone…ever.

Warning: Contains a small-town thespian who isn’t easily fooled and a lawyer with a weakness for V-twin engines and sassy redheads.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Kobo



“Im Officer... This is Dr.... Head-on collision... Surprised they arrived at hospital alive... Massive head trauma... Broken neck... Collapsed lungs... Both died during surgery, within minutes of the other... So. Very. Sorry.
I was twenty-seven years old and I knew I had been sheltered. Not the kind of sheltered meaning I hadnt traveled or hadnt learned life isnt always fair. I had my heart broken by my first love, cried when we had our dog put to sleep, and was beside myself when I lost acting parts I wanted more than anything.
But I also recalled how, in the middle of a scene in acting class, my mentors would ask me to dig deep, to excavate a moment in my life when the wave of grief had hit me hard and use that to convey a particularly important arc in a scene. I did what I had to do. I was an actor who did my work, so others rarely noticed that the raw grief I portrayed was mostly borrowed from others.
But I knew... I knew I had been sheltered by my loving home life and friends Id known since birth. I knew I had been lucky, that the only funerals I ever attended were for grandparents who had died old, happy and peacefully in their sleep. I didnt have classmates who had overdosed or former sorority sisters die fighting cancer.
At least I had known that. Because, sure enough, death came to me then, in that fluorescent white-lit hospital lobby. He came to me, placing one hand gently on my shoulder to comfort me while the other one swept my legs right out from under me.
Just like that, my life had irrevocably changed. I was free-floating in a weightless ether, where time and sound and feeling had ceased.
I was numb. I was breathing the air of Purgatory, without lungs.

Without oxygen.
And finally, I understood, in my blood, threaded through my skin, both the fullness

and emptiness of grief. Within that space, that was where I now lived; a soundless scream. 


a Rafflecopter giveaway


A woman with the heart of a revolutionary, The mind of a pragmatist, And the inappropriate humor of your tipsy BFF... Born in California and raised in South Florida, I've moved around like a gypsy with a bounty on my head ever since. Along the way, I've worked as a community organizer, a professional matchmaker, an art teacher, a popular blogger, and a crisis counselor (to name a few). All the while, longing to have the guts and follow-through to do what I really wanted: to write and become a published author. That wish has finally come true and I am tickled pink with glitter over this good piece of fortune. What else? Hmm...I love indie, lo-fi, complaint rock played on vinyl, wearing black because it's slimming, the theater, well-informed optimism, happy endings (both kinds),and making those close to me laugh 'til they snort. I'm a self-admitted change junkie, loving new experiences and places, but have now happily settled in the cutest lil' town, Vienna, Virginia. I totally love hearing from readers so stalk me via social media or email me at!
Author Links:
InkSlinger PR Blogger Banner - New

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Shrinking Violet by Jessica Prince Release

Shrinking Violet full wrap

❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃


Shrinking Violet cover

Forgiveness. From the time we’re old enough to understand the word, we’re taught to forgive those who wrong us, so what do you do when the one person you can’t forgive is yourself? For Cassidy Ashworth, it's a question that haunts her. Forgiveness has become a foreign concept. Self-loathing is something she’s much more familiar with. Convinced that she doesn’t deserve happiness, Cassidy is determined to spend every day trying to make up for the wrong she’s done. But no amount of repenting for the past will ever convince her that she's worthy of a future with Carson Langford. Raised in the foster system, Carson has always been a throwaway kid. He knows firsthand just how cruel life can be, how easy it is for people to prey on the weak, and there's nothing Carson detests more than a bully. So focused on his self-imposed role of protector, he never counted on the beautiful blonde with the haunted eyes to stumble into his life and shake up his world. Despite her reluctance, Carson is determined to have Cassidy in his life, but once the truth of her past comes to light, the question is…will he still want to keep her?

Amazon | AmazonUK | AmazonCA | AmazonAU

❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃

July 21 Teaser

SV Teaser

❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃


Born and raised around Houston Texas, Jessica spent most of her life complaining about the heat, humidity, and all around pain in the ass weather. It was only as an adult that she quickly realized the cost of living in Houston made up for not being able to breathe when she stepped outside. That's why God created central air, after all. In addition to being a wife and mom, she's also a wino, a coffee addict, and an avid lover of all types of books--romances still being her all time favs. Her husband likes to claim that reading is her obsession but she just says it's a passion...there's a difference. Not that she'd expect a boy to understand. Jessica has been writing since she was a little girl, but thankfully grew out of drawing her own pictures for her stories before ever publishing her first book. Because an artist she is not.


❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃

Image by Cool Text: Logo and Button Generator - Create Your Own Logo

Crawly Creek Spotlight by Lori King




  button synopsis 

 Lacy Denvers has lost her job, and lost her way. All she wants to do now is get her career back on track and find some stability again, but first, she wants to mark something off her bucket list: She wants to learn to ride a horse. Her dream vacation to the Crawley Creek Cattle Ranch turns into a lesson in patience when the North Dakota winter proves unpredictable as ever. Wrapped in a cocoon of snow, Lacy finds the ranch to be a hidden treasure trove of cowboy eye candy, and her mouth is watering even as her brain is telling her to run. After a devastating tragedy, a young Drannon Russo ended up fostering with the Crawley family, and found a home. He’s only moved away once and had to lean on family for support when his dreams were shattered. Being a cowboy on a ranch is a pretty lonely existence. When a beautiful redhead shows up looking for a fresh start he’s determined to give them both what they want. Will this vacation into the heart of cattle country turn out to be a mistake, or will Lacy and Drannon find their future in each other? 

 Warning: Explicit romance


button excerpt

There was a couple of inches of snow drift across the front lawn, but when she turned the corner and faced west, brown grass poked through just a dusting of snow, and the wind stole her breath from her lungs. Grey clouds filled the sky and the scent of snow was on the air. Tipping her head down, she hurried across the yard to the massive barn doors, pausing only long enough to tug one open and squeeze through it. Compared to the cold outside, the warmth of the barn was intoxicating. The smell of animals and hay filled her nose and she sneezed loudly. “Bless you.” The deep voice was followed by a masculine chuckle, and she jerked in surprise looking for its owner. When she didn’t immediately spot anyone she frowned. “Thank you, um, whoever you are?” A black cowboy hat appeared over the top of a stall next to a brown horses head. Under the hat was a strong face, with a sharp jaw and a meticulously trimmed goatee and mustache. His nose was a little large, and as she stepped closer she could see that it was also slightly crooked with a telling bump in the middle. The smile on his face was amused as he allowed her to look her fill. But his dark black eyebrow rose when she remained quietly standing several feet away from him. Concern filled his brown eyes and he reached one long arm over the stall door opening the latch. Her vision suddenly filled with the huge sexy body of a real life cowboy and she felt her chest tighten. He was beautiful. Black curly hair peeked out from under the brim of his hat, barely curling over his ears and the collar of his heavy brown coat. His wide shoulders filled out every spare millimeter of the material, and a powerfully built chest drew her gaze further down until her eyes struck gold. Framed by perfectly cut chaps was a thick looking bulge of blue denim and zipper, and Lacy nearly groaned out loud at the many wicked images running through her brain. “Are you all right?” She jumped in surprise at his question and felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks. “Yes, I’m sorry. That was ridiculously rude, please excuse me.” She stepped forward with her hand out, “I’m Lacy Denvers.” “Ah, Denvers, yes Marilyn said we were going to have a guest for a couple of weeks.” The hand that took hers was enormous, and it engulfed her grip until she could barely see her own skin. She could feel calluses on his palm and a shiver went up her spine at the touch. What would that feel like on other more sensitive parts of her body? “Pretty unusual for someone to book a vacation in North Dakota in the winter.” She was taken aback by the comment, and frowned up at him. At five foot eight, Lacy wasn’t a short girl, but the cowboy was at least eight or nine inches taller than she was, so her head had to tip back to see his eyes. “I booked the trip last summer. I wanted to get away from the city and I wanted to learn how to ride. Is that a problem?” “Want to learn how to ride, huh?” The teasing flirtation in his voice made her pussy clench and her breasts swell. This time it was his eyes that slowly wandered down her body taking in every bit of her before coming back up to meet her pointed gaze. “I have no doubt that you can learn how to ride like a pro here at Crawley Creek.” She nodded sharply refusing to acknowledge the innuendo. His eyes had turned a darker color, and his pupils had grown along with the bulge behind his zipper. The attraction was clearly mutual. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she turned back to the horse he had been working with in order to give herself some breathing room. “She’s pretty, does she have a name?” The cowboy stepped closer to the stall. Suddenly her palms were sweating too, and she was glad she had on so many layers so that he wouldn’t be able to see the hard nubs of her nipples poking through her shirt. “She is a he, and his name is Toto.” Lacy snorted and then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry, you don’t mean, Toto like the dog in Oz do you?” “Is there another Toto?” A giggle slipped out, and then turned into a full on loud laugh. Toto snuffed in his stall and looked at her with large brown eyes. The cowboy seemed amused at her enjoyment. He stepped closer and reached his hand up to run it over Toto’s forehead. The horse nuzzled him, and bobbed its head asking for more affection. “Here, reach up and touch him. He’s like any other male, if you stroke him right he’ll be yours.” His voice was low and deep, and his eyes were locked on Lacy while she reached up to run her hand over the soft white spot on Toto’s forehead. Toto truly did seem to appreciate the gesture, and he tipped his nose to sniff at her arm. “He’s beautiful. This is the closest I’ve ever been to a real horse.” “Toto is honored to be your first.” Lacy’s eyes darted over to look at the cowboy. His flirtations weren’t subtle, and his eyes blatantly said that he would be up for a hot sweaty fling. She pondered for less than a breath before she turned to face him. “Are all cowboys this forward?” She cocked her head to one side watching him. His eyes shuttered and the heat seemed to seep out of them instantly. “I apologize. It’s not often a beautiful woman appears in the barn out of nowhere. I have some more work to do, but you’re welcome to look around, just make sure to stay out of the stalls without someone with you. All of the horses are gentle most of the time, but accidents happen. You’re such a wisp, one kick and you’d be done for.” While he spoke, he reached back over the wall of the stall and pulled up a bucket that must have been on a hook inside. There was a collection of unusual tools inside the bucket, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him what they were before he was headed down the walkway and out the doors.
buy links



  button synopsis

Cowboys don’t cry, but Roman “Romeo” Freemont certainly has enough tragic history to spend his days teary-eyed. Instead he’s turned to women and liquor in an effort to soothe his aches and pains, but when a petite brunette with a feisty temper comes crashing into his world, he realizes what he’s been missing. Francesca “Franki” Scott has walked through fire herself. Nowadays she just isn’t a people person, and she’s definitely not interested in a wannabe playboy ranch owner either. She has a mission and it could mean life or death for someone close to her if she gets distracted. Closing the gap between these two wounded souls could mean surviving yet another tragedy. Will their determination to hide their pain from themselves be their downfall, or will they come through this rough ride together? 
 Warning: Explicit Romance

  button excerpt

Roman was concerned for Franki’s well-being. Or at least that’s what he kept repeating in his head as he climbed the stairs and walked directly to the door marked Sunflower Room. She’d looked pale when she skipped out of dinner early, and he just wanted to check on her. Rolling his eyes as he stared at the wooden door, he scoffed silently at his own thoughts. The truth was that he wanted to see her again, and perhaps question her about what’d happened between them earlier. It was clear there was attraction on both their parts, but she didn’t seem happy about it. Lifting his hand, he knocked softly and held his breath until the door opened. The lamp was on behind her, and it gave her a soft glow as she frowned up at him. Her beautiful hair was down again, and it curly wildly around her face and shoulders. Bare shoulders. She wore some sort of stretchy material over her breasts that left her shoulders and soft belly bare down to her hips where a pair of low rise shorts clung to her curvy hips. Seeing all that bare skin made his knees weak, and he leaned heavily against the door jamb. “Roman?” she crossed her arms over her bare midriff and took a step backwards. “I thought you were Marilyn, is everything okay?” When he tried to speak his voice came out as croak and he had to clear his throat, and start again. “No. I mean, yes, I mean, everything is fine. I just wanted to check on you. You ran out of dinner so quickly, and you looked a little…I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to wake you again.” He wanted to kick his own ass for his rambling. Never in his life had a woman made him this off balance. Charm was his game, and he played it well, so why was he suddenly unsure of himself? “I’m okay, just really tired. The road trip version of jet lag I guess. Thank you, for checking on me.” She said, giving him a small smile. She reached for the door, but then hesitated and glanced over her shoulder at the interior of the bedroom as if unsure of her next move too. The light washed over her face and he noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks and a slight puffiness to her eyes. His stomach clenched and before he could stop himself, he tugged her into his arms, delighting in the softness of her curves against him.

button teasers


buy links

button Books in this series

Beginnings 1600x2400
** FREE **
** Pre-order Claiming His Cowgirl (Crawley Creek, Book 3) : Releasing August 25 **

button About the author


Best-selling author, Lori King, is also a full-time wife and mother of three boys. Although she rarely has time to just enjoy feminine pursuits; at heart she is a hopeless romantic. She spends her days dreaming up Alpha men, and her nights telling their stories. An admitted TV and book junkie, she can be found relaxing with a steamy story, or binging in an entire season of some show online. She gives her parents all the credit for her unique sense of humor and acceptance of all forms of love. There are no two loves alike, but you can love more than one with your whole heart. With the motto: Live, Laugh, and Love like today is your only chance, she will continue to write as long as you continue to read. Thank you for taking the time to indulge in a good Happily Ever After with her.

button author links

Join We Wrote Your Book Boyfriends for lots of games and prizes!!