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~ REVIEW: Manwhore +1 by Katy Evans ~

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Synopsis

 

The unexpected love story that began in MANWHORE continues heating up the pages in MANWHORE +1 by New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans…
 
Billionaire playboy? Check. 
Ruthless businessman? Check. 
Absolutely sinful? Check.

Malcolm Saint was an assignment. A story. A beautiful, difficult man I was supposed to uncover for a racy exposé.

I intended to reveal him, his secrets, his lifestyle–not let him reveal me. But my head was overtaken by my heart and suddenly nothing could stop me from falling. I fell for him, and I fell hard. 

Malcolm Saint is absolute Sin, and I’ve become a hopeless Sinner.

Now that the assignment is over, Saint wants something from me–something unexpected–and I want this wicked playboy’s heart. But how can I prove to the man who trusts no one that I’m worthy of becoming his plus one?

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michele review 5 star a
I’ve been dying to read this book since I finished Manwhore! I just HAD to know what happened between Rachel and Malcolm, do they get back together? Does Malcolm see what Rachel did as unforgivable? With someone like Malcolm Saint, it’s hard to know what’s going to happen. He’s very clear that if he doesn’t trust you, you’re not a part of his inner circle. Now the tables are turned and it’s Rachel’s turn to do try and persuade Malcolm that they were meant for each other.

There is no denying there’s physical attraction between these two. Once they finally give to that physical attraction, boy do those pages catch on fire! **WARNING** You ladies will need to have a fan at the ready because you’ll be burning up when these two make-up! However, it’s more than just the sex with these two. While they try to start over from the beginning, they find out more about each other and those feelings there were only just beginning to bloom before start to blossom into something beautiful.

Will Malcolm and Rachel break those last barriers that are between them? Will they be able to find their happily ever after?

I fell in love with these characters from page one! Katy Evans just has such an amazing talent of making you fall in love with her characters and bringing you into their world. I can’t wait to see what she has in store for Malcolm and Rachel in Ms. Manwhore. I’m definitely interested in see if anything ever develops between Rachel and Malcolm’s best friends!

**ARC was provided through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review**
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~ Ruin & Rule by Pepper Winters Release Blitz ~

ruin & rule book tour ruin & ruleSynopsis“We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . .”

RUIN & RULE

She is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she’s lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . .

He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul.

Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption?

“Ruin & Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill’s story continues in SIN & SUFFER.”

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ruin & rule bt teaserExcerpt

Prologue

We met in a nightmare.

The in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We met. We stared. We knew.

There was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or battles from hearts and minds.

Just us. In our silent dreamworld.

That nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined together in our happily skewed reality.

We fell in love. We fell hard.

In those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity.

But then we woke up.

And it was over.

Chapter One

I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.

—Kill

[ORN_SB]

Darkness.

That was my world now. Literally and physically.

The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.

Nothing was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away.

I didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enter—just enough to keep me alive.

Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror.

Fear never helps, only hinders.

My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return.

Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.

Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps?

Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs.

It wasn’t just me being kidnapped.

My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.

I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next.

I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs.

Get through this, then worry about them.

I didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes.

Had I been at a party? Nightclub?

Nothing.

I hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think…

No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for me.

I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.

I tried to swallow.

No saliva.

I tried to speak.

No voice.

I tried to remember what happened.

I tried to remember…

Panic.

Nothing.

I can’t remember.

“Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.”

I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.

I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.

“I’m not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.

“Call me the moment you get there.”

“Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart—

The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.

Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?

“I said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected.

Unfortunately.

My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.

My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade.

This was real.

This is real.

My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.

I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold.

Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.

I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in.

But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.

The pushing stopped. So did I.

Big mistake.

“Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed…wood?

Bare feet?

Where are my shoes?

The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.

Where did I come from?

How did I end up here?

What’s my name?

It wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.

How could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out?

Who am I?

To have who I was deleted…It was unthinkable.

“Faster, bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips.

“Step down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.

“Again.”

I obeyed.

“Last one.”

I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.

My face.

What do I look like?

A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another.

“Move.” The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper and metallic…blood?

Why…why is that so familiar?

I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.

“Don’t overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress.

My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do.

Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.

Picking up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—”

“Holy fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.

“Wire—get me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!”

Wind and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in suddenly came alive with sound.

Bullets flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle I’d just stepped from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear. Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze.

Someone grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. “Get down!” The inertia of his throw knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab with, no way to protect myself from falling.

I fell.

My stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground.

Dirt, damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud.

My shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession.

I’m a vet.

The sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless. My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information.

I skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more.

Tell me! Show me. Who am I?

I searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased.

I couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was I’d been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound.

That tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the outside world again.

Battle cries. Men screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible deflection of gunshots.

I couldn’t understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate dimension?

Another body landed on top of mine.

I cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs.

The figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine.

Why aren’t I crying?

I once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasn’t hyperventilating or panicked.

My calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was strong.

My hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didn’t know who I was, but it didn’t matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most.

I had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen. All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else had been taken.

“Stop fighting, you fucking idiots!”

The loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop. Whoever had spoken had power.

Immense power. Colossal power.

A shiver darted over my skin.

“What the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled.

A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.

“It’s done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground.

“I’m not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!”

“I am. Have been for the past four years.”

“You’re not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.”

Another fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.

The earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking river. Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Club—he’s dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?”

Another moan.

“I’m the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy, and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does. So bend a fucking knee and respect.”

Another tremor ran down my back.

Silence for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up with a Dagger as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking joke.”

“I’m the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? I’m the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy thud of a fist connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.”

My mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldn’t make sense of anything.

The air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood before me. I didn’t know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was fragile and any moment it would explode.

A single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you out.”

The gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The Corrupts haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, it’s been Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure enough for this Club. You’re done.”

I flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air.

A crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping.

Murder.

Murder was committed right before me.

The inherent need to nurture and heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heart—wept with regret.

Death was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.

I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to stop it.

I’m a witness.

And yet, I’d witnessed nothing.

I’d been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong.

My hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I was, how did I cure myself?

The woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didn’t know who was friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmness—to let her know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone. We faced the same future—no matter how grim.

Voices cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find clues.

“Get rid of the bodies before daybreak.”

“We’ll go back and make sure we’re still covered.”

“Send out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.”

Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand.

He hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasn’t afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in me—something primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted.

Needed.

I need to know who he is.

Wet mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer.

The woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were uncovered.

I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare. Nothing was grounded—completely nonsensical and far too strange.

I needed proof that this was real.

I needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t mad. That my body was intact, even if my mind was not.

I sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my blindfold.

The anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative in his hold.

I didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.

The man’s breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony.

He’s hurt.

The pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new kind of gloom.

Night sky. Moonshine. Stars above.

Anchors of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field.

I’m alive.

I can see.

The joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet.

Then my life ended as our gazes connected.

Green to green.

I have green eyes.

Down and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches.

My life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.

The fear I’d been missing slammed into my heart.

I quivered. I quaked.

Something howled deep inside with age-old knowledge.

Every part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror.

Him.

A nightmare come to life.

A nightmare I wanted to live.

If life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of who I was meant to be.

Jaw-length dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full lips. His five-o’clock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading his emerald anger.

He froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze. “What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. “It’s not—”

My heart raced. Yes.

“You know me,” I breathed.

The moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred.

He changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable devil.

I shivered at the change—at the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth to my ears. “Stand up. You’re mine now.”

When I didn’t move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed every cell with fingers that despised me.

I couldn’t suck in a proper breath.

With a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings. With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet.

I didn’t sway. I didn’t cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and stared in silence.

I stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I shouldn’t understand.

This was him.

My nightmare.

Abou the author pepper winters bannerPepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Her Dark Erotica books include:

Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)

Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)

Her Grey Romance books include:

Destroyed

social linksWebsite | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads

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~ Carry Your Heart (Carry Your Heart #1) by K. Ryan Release Blitz + Giveaway ~

Carry Your Heart Blitz Banner

Carry Your Heart
by K. Ryan
Carry Your Heart #1
Publication Date: July 14, 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

Carry Your Heart CoverPurchase Links

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SynopsisWhen Isabelle Martin steps onto Sawyer Auto Repair’s parking lot, she can’t believe it’s come to this. After dropping out of a school she never really wanted to go to in the first place and dumping a boyfriend she never really loved to begin with, she thought coming home to Claremont, North Carolina would solve all her problems. Instead, she’s still reeling from her mom’s death six months earlier and trying, but failing to help her dad, who’s sunken deep into a whiskey-fueled depression. Working in the local, motorcycle club-owned, auto shop’s office is a last resort, but it’s the only option she has…even if it means working with Caleb Sawyer, the bad-boy biker with swagger to spare who used to drive her up the wall in high school.

Caleb Sawyer is on the fast-track to a downward spiral. He used to think he had the world at his feet–all he has to do is be patient, earn his keep in the club and in the shop, and his legacy within the Iron Horsemen MC will be his for the taking when the time is right. But that just doesn’t mean anything without his old lady by his side, who wants to leave Claremont more than she wants to stay with him. When the bottom finally drops out, nothing prepares him for the impact and he deals with it the only way he knows how–with whiskey and women. Despite all that, being around Isabelle Martin, the girl whose feathers he ruffled so easily in high school, somehow brings him back to life. She doesn’t take any of his crap, but she calls him on it without judgment and without pity.

Despite some initial animosity, Caleb and Isabelle quickly realize that the perceptions they had of each other in high school couldn’t be further from the truth. The more time they spend together, the closer they become and the more they gravitate towards each other. Both are at a crossroads, but stuck in reverse. Isabelle needs help; she just doesn’t know how to ask for it. Caleb needs a life preserver; he just doesn’t know where to find one. And ultimately, on the path to rediscovery and identity, all roads lead them to exactly what they need–each other.

New adult/contemporary romance told in alternating points of view. Recommended for readers 18 and older.

Book #1 in the Carry Your Heart series that follows Caleb and Isabelle’s journey spanning the course of eight years.

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Abou the author

K. Ryan

K. Ryan is a former English teacher, who graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point in 2009. In between ‘real life’ duties, she’s been writing the Carry Your Heart series quietly on the side for the last two years. When not writing, she’s either binge-watching something on Netflix, running, reading, or cheering on the Packers. She lives in the Green Bay area with her crazy-supportive boyfriend and the best decision of her adult life, a not-so-stray cat named Oliver.

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Cover Reveals · Giveaways

~ ACE (A Band of Brothers) by Lyra Parish Cover Reveal + Giveaway ~

ACE by Lyra Parish

ACE a Band of Brothers novel by Lyra Parish
Coming September 1, 2015
Cover created by Letitia at RBA Designs

 

Synopsis

My name is Ace and I’m the Ace of Spades.
I’m not nice and I misbehave.
I will be your nightmare.
I will be your dream.
I will have you begging for more of me with each scream.

The truth is in my lyrics.
Uncontrollably controlled.
I bleed many things one being Rock & Roll.

I don’t date or make love, I fuck real hard.
Did you know the ace of spades is considered the death card?
Love doesn’t exist in my world, it never did.
Love won’t exist in my world; it’s something I forbid.

My name is Ace and I’m the Ace of Spades.
Proceed with caution, because I’m sharp like a blade.

The Band of Brothers novels are full length and will follow each brother in the band. They can be read together or separately.


If you would like a one-time email when ACE is live on all platforms, please sign up for this email notification: http://bit.ly/acenotification


Goodreads Link:
http://bit.ly/acegoodreads

 

Ace by Lyra Parish

Excerpt

Disclaimer: this is subject to change.

Tonight I would fuck the blonde in the front row. The set was nearing the end and I could feel her gaze peeling off every piece of my clothing. I liked when a woman knew what she wanted.

Blue and green lights flashed over the stage then washed across the crowd. When we made eye contact again, her tongue traced the outside of her plump bottom lip and at that moment I knew she was DTF. Her being down to fuck made this so much easier but then again, being the lead singer of the Band of Brothers made panties magically melt. I’d be her fantasy for the night.

This tour wasn’t like the others because this time everyone wanted a piece of us as if our success happened overnight. But we earned every fucking opportunity we had. I would say given but that’s bullshit. My brothers and I worked hard for every small and large success we had because that’s our nature. We were raised to not take shit for granted and to work hard. Being assholes just came naturally but we knew to give respect where respect was due.

Each show from Florida to California, all the way to New York was sold out and that felt incredible.

The drums beat on as I screamed out the next few lyrics. “I won’t let the world decide. I’ll die before that happens.” The drums stopped and the distortion was cut leaving a melodic strum of Nicolas’s guitar.

The lights faded when walked off stage leaving the crowd to themselves. Ian, Nicolas, and Liam had huge smiles covering their faces as they chugged the water the technicians handed us. This would never get old. Moments like this were the ones we lived and worked for. Once the chanting and clapping started, the four of us walked back onstage and gave the fans what they wanted, an encore.

Green and yellow lights flashed over the crowd and smoke hovered at the bottom of the stage. We played three more songs and the people sang and swayed to the lyrics and music. Some jumped up and down, feeling the full beat of the drums while others banged their heads. The feeling of having thousands of people chanting my words would never become real. More often than not, I felt like I was in a dream, one that I never wanted to wake from.

During the last song, I pointed to the blonde who continued to visually rip my clothes off with every little blink she took. By the way she was dressed in a tight pink shirt and little bitty skirt, I knew she wanted to be seen. She could have possibly had this night planned from the beginning. Randomly, I chose a few others from the crowd to join us, to dance in front of our audience, to feel the temporary power. It was something I did every show, every tour. It was a habit of sorts.

Security helped the girls climb on the stage and they shook their asses in those little pieces of material that were supposed to be skirts. It always made women feel special when they were with the band, and I loved giving them just a little taste.

A person doesn’t fully understand performing live until they have had the opportunity to look out past the stage lights and see the people. Before the song ended, the technicians led the girls’ side stage as cannons of confetti shot from the floor. Different colored pieces of paper glittered everywhere. When the final song ended, my brothers and I walked side stage where girls anxiously waited us. I smiled, popping an eyebrow at my chosen woman for the night, and she instantly came to me. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and hers hung on my waist. My brothers stopped in the green room with the other girls, but Blondie and I walked to the bus.

“I’m Lindsey,” she whispered in my ear before we reached the end of the hallway. I smiled at her and pushed open the exit door. Groupies and fans waited near the bus and as soon as we walked up they rushed it.

“I’ll be out in a bit,” I said, smiling at them with pearly whites. “My brothers are coming out that door over there. Really soon.”

I hated to out their exit strategy, but I wanted to take my time burying my dick deep inside Misty or Christy or whatever the fuck her name was. It didn’t matter. Names never did.

 

Abou the author

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Lyra Parish loves to write, glamp, and sing obnoxiously loud at the top of her lungs in the shower. Sweet love stories (along with the dirty ones) make her gush. She is a firm believer that a person can never have too many cups of coffee, cats, or happily ever afters. When she isn’t busy writing, she can be found sipping various beverages from her non-alcoholic drink buffet, pimp slapping excel spreadsheets, or riding her bike. Lyra lives in Texas with her glassblowing, guitar-playing hubby and black cat named Nibbler.

 

social links

Mailing List: http://bit.ly/lyranewsletter
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Amazon: http://bit.ly/LyraAmazon

 

Giveaway

Sign up to receive an ADVANCED review copy of ACE. These will be only be sent to kindle addresses. Several random people will receive them close to release date. http://bit.ly/ACEARCgiveaway

On Sale

~ Love the Way You Lie (Stripped #1) by Skye Warren Sale Blitz ~

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Love the Way You Lie
by Skye Warren
Stripped #1
Publication Date: March 12, 2015
Genres: Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance

Sale: Love the Way You Lie by Skye Warren

Purchase Links

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Loe the Way You Lie by New York Times Bestselling author Skye Warren is on sale for $0.99 from July 13 – 17th. Start the Stripped Series for a bargain today.

Synopsis

A dark romance about the lies that lead us down…

I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town.

I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers.

I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft.

He’s the one man who wants to help, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of?

“It’s gritty, edgy, and sexy, served to you in the well-written, absorbing style that Skye is so talented at delivering. I can’t wait to get my hands on the rest of the Stripped series.” – Shameless Book Club

“I LOVED it! Instantly compelling and thrillingly unpredictable, Honor and Kip’s story delivers a jagged, layered and enthralling adventure that weaves darkness and light with precision and purpose.” – the lusty literate

“Wow! I found Love the Way You Lie to be a dark, edgy and suspenseful romance. It’s also addictive, sexy and downright dirty (in the best possible way)!” – Tina, A Reader’s Review Blog

“It’s dark, mysterious, sexy, and I loved every page of it! There were twists and turns that I never saw coming! I love when an author is able to keep me guessing until the very end of the book.” – Book Fancy Book Blog

“Love The Way You Lie was heartwarming, exhilarating and tantalizing with just the right tinge of darkness.” – Warhawke’s Vault

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Abou the author

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

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Uncategorized

Dirty (Vengeance Duet #1) by A.C. Bextor Release Blitz + Giveaway ~

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Title: Dirty (Vengeance Duet, #1)

Author: A.C. Bextor

Genre: Contemporary/MC Romance

Release Date: July 15, 2015

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Synopsis

Dirty.

Imprisoned in a small room within the walls of the Satan’s Creed Motorcycle Club compound, Casey Richards struggles to survive the only life she was raised to know. Her mother, a club whore, and her father, an unknown outlaw she’s never met, Casey’s fate is all but sealed in the eyes of the club.

Foul. Unclean. Undesirable.

Trapped in a loveless marriage, and with no children of her own, Emma Carsen is the only living soul willing to fight for her niece, Casey. She’s all but given up on saving her until the one man she’s longed to see again unexpectedly finds his way back to town and into her life.

Sordid. Vile. Unscrupulous.

Max Taylor, former-biker of a disbanded MC, has been holding onto reasons to avoid coming back to the small town he grew up in. The same ghosts that drove him away eventually force Max to find his way back. Now that he’s home, he may be Casey’s only chance for freedom.

Filthy. Hateful. Impure.

In order to get to Casey, Max must find a way to infiltrate the MC. Setting up a meet with Hoss, Satan’s Creed’s President who’s known for his depravity as much as his double-crossing ways, it’s made clear that forming an alliance is going to be more of a challenge than he expected. Now he must prove his loyalty to the club and in doing so, he’s forced to get his hands…

DIRTY.

Buy The Book

Dirty Cover

Kobo  https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/dirty-26

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1M9gKyt

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B011M6Z03C?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B011M6Z03C?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/gp/product/B011M6Z03C?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Ibooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/dirty/id1019294924?mt=11

ExcerptHer eyes stay trained on mine. An unreadable expression would be easier to accept. Instead, her face falls with sadness and despair. I don’t know her, but what I see in the depths of her eyes is an obvious sign of a life of loneliness and neglect.

She’s definitely the girl in the picture, though. I’m certain. Her dark eyes can’t be mistaken for any other child’s. The almond shapes of them are as defined now as they were back then.

Smiling gently, I tell her, “If you don’t give me a name, I’m goin’ to have to keep callin’ you ‘monkey’. You gonna let me do that?”

A shy smile crosses her lips, and I hear a heavy breath in relief. She still doesn’t answer.

“All right,” I sigh as I stand. My hand reaches out to the top of her head and I move to lay my palm on top of it, which she may allow but Cilas does not.

I feel his fingers dig in to my arm and Casey’s body jerks in place as she watches with wide eyes. Lifting my hands in surrender, I placate Cilas without words and take a step back from a now-terrified little girl.

“Maybe you’ll tell me next time,” I supply and watch her visibly relax.

 

Abou the author

A.C.

AC Bextor lives in a small town in the Midwest. When she’s not writing she can be found reading or watching her favorite sports teams. She enjoys spending time outside fishing, swimming, or camping.

Her first book, Holding On – Lights of Peril, published in October 2013.

She’s currently working on a new series, The Vengeance Duet, which is scheduled to publish Summer 2015.

social links

You can visit her Facebook author page at https://www.facebook.com/pages/AC-Bextor/608704002555686?ref_type=bookmark

Or Add her as Facebook friend at https://www.facebook.com/ACBextor

Or visit her website at http://www.acbextor.com/

Or you can also contact her directly at acbextor@gmail.com

 Giveaway

  Dirty Full   love p