Cover Reveals

Free Ride (Shadow Keepers MC) by M.N. Forgy Cover Reveal With Pre-Order Links!!!!

 

forgy1

 

Free Ride releases on November 15th

Pre-order your copy NOW:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2xpKVNP

Amazon UK:  http://amzn.to/2zDFmw1

Amazon CA:  http://amzn.to/2gDymHL

iBooks: http://apple.co/2xMuF8Q

Nook:  http://bit.ly/2gN7O7s

Kobo:  http://bit.ly/2lhkjwX

Blurb

I’m crazy, deranged, and psychotic. I’m out of my mind and my life isn’t even mine half the time. Having Dissociative Identity Disorder, it’s an accurate assumption.

Born an MC brat, my only dream is to wear the colors of my father’s club, The Shadow Keepers. To feel the weight of the warm leather press across my back, and to be a part of something with purpose.

It wasn’t until the last drop of blood dripped from my fingertips and the gun smoke faded into the night sky that I realized what was really important to me.

Him.

In a blink of an eye, I lost it all. I lost him.

There’s no such thing as a Free Ride in life, and our story is an example of that.

 

About the Author

 

forgy2

M.N. Forgy was raised in Missouri where she still lives with her family. She’s a soccer mom by day and a saucy writer by night. M.N. Forgy started writing at a young age but never took it seriously until years later, as a stay-at-home mom, she opened her laptop and started writing again. As a role model for her children, she felt she couldn’t live with the “what if” anymore and finally took a chance on her character’s story. So, with her glass of wine in hand and a stray Barbie sharing her seat, she continues to create and please her fans.

Stalk Her:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

forgy3

Excerpt

A Real Man Limited Box Set by Jenika Snow Release Day Blitz With Excerpt

 

 

 


A Real Man Limited Edition Box Set.  (includes never before published bonus content)


Books included in set:

Lumberjack

Lumberjack bonus holiday chapter (previously published Box Set Volume Two)

Virgin

Virgin holiday bonus chapter (previously published Box Set Volume Two)

Baby Fever

Baby Fever bonus holiday chapter (previously published Box Set Volume Two)

Experienced

Experienced bonus holiday chapter (previously published Box Set Volume Two)

Roommate

Roommate bonus holiday chapter (previously published Box Set Volume Two)

Arrogant

Arrogant bonus holiday chapter (previously published Box Set Volume Two)

Feral

Feral bonus chapter

Dirty

Dirty bonus chapter

Viking

Viking bonus chapter

Blacksmith

Blacksmith bonus chapter

Brutal

Brutal bonus chapter

Kilt Me

Kilt Me bonus chapter

Blacksmith (A Real Man, 10)

 


The side of the house stopped our retreat. He shifted so I was now facing the wall. I liked the roughness on my back, the feeling of being helpless. He groaned, this rough, almost primal sound that had my pussy becoming so wet, my nipples so hard. I opened for him, sucked his tongue into my mouth, showing him exactly where I wanted this to go. If not for the alcohol running through my veins, I wouldn’t have ever been so bold or wanton, but right now this felt like the most natural thing.

But he stepped away far too soon, and I was left feeling bereft, like a piece of me was missing. I touched my lips, the tingling and warmth that covered them reaching the very recesses of my cells.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You don’t want me?” My cheeks heated at the idea that maybe he didn’t, despite the vibes I got from him and the fact he’d invited me out. I also blamed the alcohol for me opening my mouth and even asking.

But Deacon had his body pressed to mine a second later. I gasped from the contact, from the feeling of his very massive, apparent erection currently digging into my belly.

“Does that feel like I don’t want you?” He thrust against me, and my mouth go slack. “Does this feel like I don’t want to take you right up against the house, not giving a shit who saw?”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just closed my mouth. He cupped my cheek, smoothing his finger along my skin and sending shock waves through me.

“Tell me if this doesn’t feel like I want you.” He continued to smooth that digit along my face, over my lip, down to my pulse, which beat erratically.

“It feels like you want me.”

He growled out low, a sound that was so feral, so delicious. “Yeah, I want you really fucking badly, Maddie, but you’ve been drinking, and I’m not going to cross that line.” He stepped back then, gave my pulse one last smooth over with his finger, and dropped his hand to his side. “But we aren’t going there. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded. Not only was he the manliest man I’d ever met, he was also a gentleman. I turned and unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and watched him. He’d waited until I was in the house before he left and went back to his SUV. I was still standing there long after he’d driven off, knowing that I’d fallen hard for Deacon, and that there was no getting up from it.

How about another taste?

 

Three Brutal (A Real Man, 11)

 


I became even more aware of Axel sitting beside me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, his chest rising and falling just a little faster, a little harder than normal. Was this having the same effect on him as it was on me?

But I kept my focus on the TV. The couple started kissing, the woman’s moans exaggerated, erotic. And then soon they were naked, but of course we just saw the woman’s breasts. The couple started moving in a very sexual way, and I felt my face heat. I was a virgin, but I’d seen porno, knew all that went down in that category. But I was watching this with Axel, and that made me very aware of my surroundings, of how my body was reacting.

I found myself looking at Axel. His body looked hard, not in the normal, powerful way but in the way that told me he was tense. And then he turned his head and stared right at me. Our eyes locked, the heat in the room seemed to increase, and I felt beads of perspiration dotting my skin.

My body was reacting in a way only Axel could make it. My lips felt too dry, my tongue swollen. The sound of the couple having sex seemed to be amplified in the room, and although it was a cheesy movie, the sex scene something on late-night cable, I was so turned on.

I was wet, my panties damp, my body ready for Axel.

I felt my chest rising and falling, the chemistry clearly moving between us, making me think maybe he felt the same way for me. Surely friends didn’t react this way just because some sex scene was on the TV.

And when I saw Axel look down at my mouth, I found myself lowering my gaze to his lap. There, pressing against his jeans, was a massive erection. My throat tightened, every part of me tingled, and I found myself opening my mouth, about to say what I had wanted to for so long.

But the words lodged in my throat.

Is this really happening? Is this a moment between us?

The longer we stared at each other, the more the blood rushed through my veins, the pressure in my body becoming almost unbearable.

Before I said anything, Axel was up and leaving the room. I sat there, staring at the fading sex scene, hearing him in the kitchen getting something to drink.

I stood, but he was back before I could even take a step. He held a beer out to me, the bottle chilled.

“Everything okay?”

He looked tense, like he wanted to say something. Maybe this had been in my head, the chemistry I felt, the moment I thought we had shared.

“I’m good,” he said, his jaw tight. He sat on the couch again, took a long swig of the beer, and stared at the movie.

I wasn’t going to wait, wasn’t going to let my fear override this. I had to start living for today, for the future.



One more taste?

 

Four Kilt Me (A Real Man, 12)


It had been a long time since I’d been with a woman—years, in fact—and never had I felt this kind of possessiveness and need for a female. I wanted Molly like a fiend. I needed her like I needed tae breathe.

And as fast as this all seemed tae be happening, I couldn’t have slowed things down if I even wanted tae.

I was so fooking hard, stiff as a lead pipe. I should have jerked off in the shower, but I kne’ it wouldn’t have helped. But even knowing that, I reached down and palmed myself. Of course I couldn’t help but picture Moly and what I wanted tae do tae her.

Her glorious naked body on my bed—or hell, bent over a desk. Yeah, I could see her ready and willing for me, primed and soaked. I went back to picturing her on my bed, her legs spread, her pussy on display. Her fire-colored hair would spill over my pillow. She’d smell like me.

She’d watch me quietly, waiting for me to tell her what to do. We’d both want it though. And that’s when I’d tell her to spread those pretty pussy lips for me.

And she’d do so instantly.

I closed my eyes and really put myself in the fantasy. I groaned as I felt pleasure shoot up my spine.

Say you’re mine, lass.”

“I’m yours, Alastair.” Her flesh, so pink and wet, glistened under the dim lighting. She was so fooking ready for me. Only me. Her back was arched, and her breasts were thrust forward, the tips pink, hard. They begged for my mouth, for me to taste them, run my teeth and tongue along the stiff peaks.

But I couldn’t move. “Touch yourself for me, Molly lass.”

She obeyed so nicely as she brought one of her hands to her mouth and rubbed her fingers along the seam of her lips. Slowly, while still watching me, she sucked on one, then two fingers, mimicking the act of giving me head. In and out she moved the digits between her full, red lips.

When she removed them, a resounding pop filled the room and caused my cock tae jerk violently. She moved her fingers down tae her pussy, and I held my breath.

I watched as she played with her clit, rubbing the bud between the digits and making these little sounds in her throat. She was beautiful, and I’d be claiming that pussy like no other had before.

A harsh groan left me when she slid her fingers down her clit, circled her pussy hole, and then shoved them deep inside. I held my breath as she pumped the digits in and out. Seconds of torturous pleasure washed through me as I watched her.

Her high moan filled the room.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I all but tore off my clothes and went to her. She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and presented them to me. I greedily sucked those glistening digits intae my mouth, tasting her, getting drunk off the flavor on my tongue.

I let out a harsh sound as I came in my hand, my seed coating my fingers, my pleasure so fooking high I’d never touch the ground again. I opened my eyes, breathing out harshly, so damn needy for her even after I spent myself, that I kne’ being with Molly would be better than anything I’d ever experienced.

And I was done waiting.


 

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.

Author Links

 

 

 

Excerpt

EXP1RE by Erin Noelle Release Day Blitz With Excerpt

E

 

 

 

 

Numbers.
They haunt me.
I can’t look into a person’s eyes without seeing the six-digit date of their death.
I’m helpless to change it, no matter how hard I try.
I’ve trained myself to look down. Away. Anywhere but at their eyes.
My camera is my escape. My salvation. Through its lens, I see only beauty and life—not death and despair.
Disconnected from all those around me, I’m content being alone, simply existing.
Until I meet him.
Tavian.
The man beyond the numbers.
How can I stay away, when everything about him draws me in?
But how can I fall in love, knowing exactly when it will expire?

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

Lyra

10.18.02
The intercom crackles loudly throughout the classroom, interrupting Ms. Sherman’s rather uninspiring Friday afternoon lesson on the life cycle of a star. Even though most of the students around me are furiously jotting down notes about nebulas, red giants, and supernovas, I’m half listening while I doodle caricatures of me and my friends in the margin of my notebook. It’s not that I’m not interested in the material she’s talking about. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s quite the opposite actually; science is my favorite subject, especially anything that deals with astronomy and the unknowns in our universe.
But with a dad who is a super-smart astronomer at Johnson Space Center—or NASA, as most people here in Houston call it—I learned about this stuff she’s teaching before I ever started kindergarten. Heck, just this past summer before fifth grade, Mama and I went to visit him at a planetarium in Hawaii, where he was part of a team that discovered eleven new moons orbiting Jupiter! If I don’t ace this test next week, I better not even go home. I definitely wouldn’t be able to be an astronaut then.  
“Ms. Sherman, can you please have Lyra Jennings gather her things and come down to the office? She’s leaving for the day,” the office lady who reminds me of Paula Deen—Mama’s favorite chef—announces through the ancient intercom system.
At the sound of my name, my chin jerks upward from my pencil sketches to the standard black-and-white classroom clock mounted above the projection screen. The hands read 12:45 p.m., nearly three hours before the end of the school day, when my parents are supposed to pick me up as we head out to Dallas for the weekend to celebrate my eleventh birthday. Ooh, maybe getting out of school early was my surprise they mentioned!
I’ve been looking forward to this day since we came home from this same trip last year, and I know my parents planned something special for this year. Every birthday, instead of having one of those silly kids’ parties with pointy hats and piñatas, they take me to the Texas State Fair. There, we spend the weekend riding as many rides as possible, stuffing our mouths with sausage-on-a-stick and fried Twinkies, playing games until we win the biggest of the stuffed animals, and laughing until our faces hurt and happy tears stream down our cheeks. Hands down, it’s my favorite three days of the year, even better than Christmas. And I really, really like Christmas.
Excitement jets through me as I stand up from my desk and hurriedly cram my spiral notebook and textbook into my purple paisley backpack. If we make it there early, I’ll be able to go swimming at the fancy hotel’s indoor pool before dinner.
“Sure thing,” my teacher calls out in response. “She’ll be right down.”
Hoisting the strap of the bag up on my shoulder, I turn to leave the room and my gaze meets Ms. Sherman’s. Her warmth shines in her bright amber-colored eyes, highlighting the numbers 051123 that I see imprinted in her pupils. The same six white numbers I see every time we make eye contact. The numbers I’m not allowed to talk about. The ones everyone thinks are all a part of my healthy imagination.
But they’re wrong. They’re all wrong.
The numbers are real, and they never change or go away. I only wish I knew what they meant. Mama and Daddy—who, by the way, are the only two people I know that have the same numbers—call it my special superpower, but I know they just pretend to believe me. I see the looks they share when they think I’m not watching. They don’t want me to think about all those things the doctors say about me. I may only be ten years old, but I’m 100% sure I’m not crazy, nor do I lie for attention. I’m an only child, for Pete’s sake; my parents are overly interested in my life. Though I do appreciate their support, even if they don’t understand.
“Have a nice weekend, Lyra. Don’t forget we have a test over CHAPTERs six through eight on Monday. Make sure you’ve read all the material,” she reminds me.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready,” I reply modestly, not sharing with her or the rest of the class I’ve already read through CHAPTER thirteen in the text, including answering the study guide questions at the end of each section. I may be an overachiever, but I’m not a brown-noser.
Luckily, school just comes easy for me, and my parents get over-Jupiter’s-moons proud when I bring home straight A’s on my report card. It reassures them that I’m normal and well adjusted. At least that’s what I heard Mama whispering to Daddy on the phone one night when she thought I wasn’t listening.
I mouth a quick goodbye to my best friend, Beth, who I pass by as I scuttle toward the exit. With her last name being Blackmon and mine being Jennings, we rarely get to sit near each other, as most of our teachers put us in alphabetical order. Beth’s numbers are 022754, and like Ms. Sherman’s, they light up vibrantly when she looks up at me and mouths the words Have fun before I slip out the door.
I never want to break the rules or get in trouble, so I somehow fight the urge to sprint down the deserted hallway and force myself to walk as fast as my long, skinny legs will let me. The swishing sound from my denim shorts rubbing together fills my ears, creating a soundtrack for my excitement. My cheeks ache from smiling so big while I drop off my folders and books in my locker then make a beeline to the front of the school, where my parents are waiting for me. This is going to be the best of the best weekends ever, one that none of us will ever forget. I just know it.
Only, when I swing open the glass door to the main office, expecting to see my favorite two people in the world, I’m surprised to find my Aunt Kathy standing there, her face puffy and pink, the corners of her mouth pointing due south. Our eyes meet, and I can barely see her numbers—123148—because of how swollen the lids are around them.
The fluffy white cloud of elation I floated in on disappears instantly as a dark fog of dread takes its place. Engulfing me. Swallowing me whole. She doesn’t have to say a word—I already know. Not how or when or where it happened, but deep in my bones, I know.
I was right. This will definitely be a weekend I’ll never forget, only it will be for reasons I’ll never want to remember.
“I’m so sorry, Lyra baby girl,” she cries. “I’m so sorry. They’re… they’re gone.”
gone.
        Gone.
                   GONE.
The word bounces around between my ears, getting louder each time it echoes. The first time, it freezes my movements. The second steals all the air from my lungs. By the third time, I’m pretty sure I have no pulse. I want to go, too.
Go.
       Going.
                     GONE.
With my feet stuck to the floor and my body stiff as a statue, Aunt Kathy rushes over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Pulling me up against her chest as uncontainable sobs shake her body, she breaks down in front of the receptionist and attendance clerk, neither of who bother to hide their open staring. Numb, I stand completely still while she wails for several minutes, and I never once make a single sound or try to break free from the death grip she has on me. My thoughts race so fast they’re standing still.
I’m just… here. And my parents just… aren’t. And they won’t ever be again.
They’re… gone.
Climbing into the passenger seat of Aunt Kathy’s fancy sports car—a car I usually beg to ride in because there’s no backseat—I fasten my safety belt and then close my eyes as I lean my head back on the black leather, warm from the hot southern Texas sun. Even though it’s mid-October, I’m still wearing shorts and sandals, and just last weekend I went swimming at Beth’s house. But as I sit here and wait for my aunt to start the car, my teeth chatter loudly and my entire body trembles uncontrollably. My heart is frozen solid, but I’ve yet to shed a tear.
The phone rings and I jump, automatically looking at the caller ID on the screen, thinking… hoping… praying it’s someone calling to let us know this has all been a big mistake, that my parents are really okay.
“Hey, Mom,” Aunt Kathy answers after just one ring. We still haven’t pulled out of the parking space. “Yeah, I have her now. She’s safe and sound.”
My heart plummets even lower into my stomach than it was before as she pauses to listen to Granny Gina on the other end. Granny Gina is my dad and Kathy’s mom who lives in New Orleans, where she moved about five years ago after my grandpa passed away from lung cancer. Since my mom’s parents both died before I was born, she’s the only living grandparent I have, and luckily for me, she’s a pretty awesome one. But today, nothing is awesome. Not even close.
“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word. I’m sure she’s in shock.” My aunt talks about me like I’m not sitting right here, as I finally feel the car jerk back in reverse.
Another pause. The car lurches forward into drive then we bounce hard as Aunt Kathy flies over a speed bump. I think I’m going to throw up.
“Okay, I’ll take her home so she can pack a suitcase of whatever she wants to bring, and then we’ll go to my place until you get here. You should be in about 5:00?”
Pack a suitcase of what I want to bring where? Where am I going? Why is this happening to me? I’m a good kid. I make good grades and I’m nice to people, even those people who everyone else makes fun of, and I listen to my parents and my teachers. What did I do to deserve this? Why me?
“Yeah, Mom, I know,” Aunt Kathy hiccups. She’s crying hard again. “I’ll take good care of her, and we’ll see you later. I love you.”
I keep my eyes screwed shut as she disconnects the call, scared she’ll want to talk if I open them. I don’t want to talk to her or Granny Gina or anyone but my parents. I want my mom and dad!
Thankfully, Aunt Kathy doesn’t try to talk to me as we drive, but when I feel the car come to a stop and hear the engine turn off, she gently taps my arm. “Lyra, sweetheart, we’re at your house. We’re going to go inside, and I need you to pack up a suitcase or two of the clothes and things you want to take to New Orleans. Whatever you need.”
“New Orleans?” My lids snap open and I whip my chin in her direction. I don’t even recognize my harsh, scratchy voice. “I’m going to New Orleans?”
“Yeah”—she nods sadly as she swipes at the black mascara streaks on her face with her thumbs—“with Granny Gina. After we take care of, uh, of everything here, you’ll go live with her there.”
Scowling, I cross my arms over my chest and grunt. “I don’t want to leave Houston, or my friends, or my school. Why can’t I stay here with you?”
“You know I travel with my job, Lyra. Sometimes I’m gone a week or two at a time, and there won’t be anybody here to stay with you. Granny Gina’s house has an extra bedroom, and since she doesn’t work, she’ll be able to better give you everything you need.”
What I need and will be better for me is my mom and dad. And my perfect birthday weekend at the fair.
She reaches out to attempt to soothe me with her touch, but I wrench away, banging my elbow on the car door in the process. The whack is loud, and the place I hit immediately turns red, but my brain doesn’t register the pain. I feel nothing. I’m broken.
I glance over at my aunt, and the tears spilling down her cheeks make me feel bad for acting the way I just did to her. What happened to my parents isn’t her fault, but I’m angry and this is all moving too fast. How am I supposed to pack up what I need in a couple of bags? I want to stay in my room, in my house, living with my parents.
“I know this is all unfair, baby,” she says through her sniffles, “and I can’t even to begin to understand what you’re thinking or feeling. I mean, I’m freaking the hell out and I’m a grownup who’s supposed to know how to handle these kinds of situations. All we can do is cling to each other as family and try to get through this together. Between me and Granny, we’ll do the best we can for you, and right now, we think the best thing is if you get your things and go stay with her.”
“How did they die?” I blurt out, completely off topic from what she’s talking about. My mind can’t stay focused on any one thing, but this is the question that keeps popping up. “I need to know how it happened.”
Swallowing hard, Aunt Kathy inhales a shaky breath through her nose and blows it out through her mouth, visibly trying to collect herself before she answers me. “It was a car accident,” she whispers after forever, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t know why they were together in your mom’s car this morning or where they were going, but an eighteen-wheeler lost control and hit them. They were already gone by the time the first responders arrived.”
I nod, still unable to cry. I hear the words she’s saying, but they aren’t really registering. They make sense, but I don’t understand. It’s as if I’ve been swallowed up by one of the black holes Daddy taught me about and the darkness is sucking away my ability to think, to feel. All I hear is the word “gone” still replaying over and over and over.
“Okay. I’ll get my stuff,” I say flatly, finally opening the door and stepping out of the car.
My movements are robotic, and I can barely even feel the key in my hand as I unlock the front door to my house. Stepping inside, I’m overwhelmed by a combination of the sweet smell of my mom’s favorite vanilla cookie candle and the sight of my dad’s fuzzy slippers waiting by the coatrack—the slippers he puts on the minute he walks in the door from work every night. When I realize he’ll never wear those slippers again, nor will my mom ever be able to forget if she blew out the candle when we’re about to pull out of the driveway, an acute pain shoots through my chest and I stumble over to the staircase, grabbing the banister to keep my balance.
“I’m right here, Lyra,” Aunt Kathy murmurs from behind me as she slips her arm around my waist. “Let’s just get your things and head over to my place. Later, once we’ve had some time to deal with everything, we can come back to go through the house and all the stuff… if you want.”
Another nod and I let her guide me up the stairs to my room. I want to scream at her that there will never be enough time to deal with losing my parents, that I’ll never be able to go through their things, but I keep my lips pressed together and do as I’m told.
“Where do you guys keep your suitcases?” she asks, glancing around my room as if she’s doing an inventory of what I have. “I’ll go grab a couple while you start pulling out what you want to take. If you forget something, it’s no big deal, because you and Granny are going to be staying at my place for the next few days. I can just bring you back to get it, or I can even ship it to Louisiana if you remember once you’re there.”
“They’re in the storage cabinets in the garage,” I answer while walking over to my desk, my eyes locked in on a framed photo of me and my parents that sits next to my laptop.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
The thud of her heels on the hardwood floor grows quiet as she makes her way back down to the first floor, and just as I grab the picture and plop down on the chair, I hear her open the door to the garage. A few much-needed minutes by myself.
I gaze down at the photograph of the three of us from a day at the beach, me sandwiched between their cheerful, carefree expressions, and the first tear finally escapes. Once the dam breaks, I can’t stop the flow, and as I trace my finger over the outline of each of my parents’ faces, I cry for everything I’ll never have again. A supernova of tears.
Faces I’ll never see smile again.
Voices I’ll never hear say my name again.
Arms I’ll never be hugged by again.
A never-ending galaxy of love that I’ll never feel again.
It’s all just… gone.
After several minutes of vision-blurring bawling, I set the picture frame back upright on my desk. A hot pink heart drawn on my calendar with the words Birthday Weekend Begins written over today’s box catches my attention. I then notice the printed numbers next to my bubbly handwriting that read 10-18-02.
Snatching the picture up again, I stare directly into first my dad’s eyes, and then my mom’s. The numbers I see when I look people directly in the eyes only happens when I’m face-to-face with someone, never in photographs or through a screen or mirror. But even though I can’t actually see the numbers right now in the picture of my parents’ pupils, their numbers are forever etched in my brain from looking at them every day of my life. I used to think the reason they had the same numbers meant they were true soul mates, like God made them to match perfectly together, but now….
My gaze flicks over to today’s date of 10-18-02, then back to my parents’ faces, where I envision their numbers—101802.
My plummeting heart collides with my lurching stomach in an explosion of realization.
It’s my Big Bang Moment.

 


About Erin Noelle USA Today Bestselling Author

 

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two
young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading  that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current,Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels.

Most nights you can find her cuddled up in bed with her husband, her Kindle in hand and a sporting event of some sorts on television.

 

 

Book Extract · Book Tours · Christie's Reviews · Interview with the Author

The Bitches of Suburbia by Jane Owen Blog Tour, Review, Author Interview, & Book Extract Read by Jane Owen!!!

owen.png

The Bitches of Suburbia

By Jane Owen

Nothing much ever happened on Horseshoe Lane – why should it? It was, after all, just a normal suburban backwater with the usual cross section of growing families, ageing pensioners, the occasional singleton and a brace of curtain twitchers. The arrival of celebrity couple, Heavenly and Travis, however, changes all that. This glamorous pair bring about a summer of competitive party throwing and ambitious home improvement projects that will have disastrous and completely unforeseen consequences.

Neighbours who’ve got by for years with just the occasional chat over a garden fence about the unseasonable amount of rain or the state of next door’s garden are slowly united by suspicion as a husband goes missing, a much loved cat turns up dead on a doorstep and Enid from Number Seven is found badly injured at the foot of the cliff.

Could one person be responsible for all of this? Could that person be the strange and unlikeable Hilary Jones from Number Nine? There was only going to be one way to find out and it was going to involve a lot of whiskey….

In this her wonderful follow up to ‘The Rock Star Known as Horse’, Owen’s riveting new story finds a murky side to the suburbs, a side where petty jealousies and neighbourly rivalries can escalate out of all control with calamitous results, all intricately observed with her usual dark humour firmly to the fore.

 

Purchase on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2xV5TDV

owen2

CHRISTIE’S REVIEW

~4 STARS~

The Bitches of Suburbia is a well-written, easy, oftentimes, funny look at the suburbs. As the synopsis says, nothing really exciting happens on Horseshoe Lane. At least at first glance it doesn’t appear to. However, with the arrival of new neighbors who happen to be famous move in, the secrets that happen behind closed doors start coming out in the open!

There is so much going on within the pages of this book. Each chapter is about a person or family that lives on Horseshoe Lane, so I felt like an insider, like I was someone who knew the inner thoughts of each character. Instead of the characters running together or the plot being confusing, Owen just builds with each chapter until the twist at the end of the book.

If you want a book that is slightly different with quirky characters, I suggest you find yourself a comfortable chair with your favorite drink and meet Hilary, Kelly, Gertrude, Ginny, and the others of Horseshoe Lane. I guarantee you may never look at quiet suburbia in the same way again.

 

About Jane Owen

 

owen3

Jane’s first novel, Camden Girls, was published by Penguin twenty years ago and quickly became an international cult bestseller published in many languages including Japanese, Spanish,German, Hebrew, Italian and Dutch. She’d already spent many years working in the film business working alongside stars such as Christophe Lambert, Andi McDowell, Daryl Hannah and James Remar before switching to the music business and working for bands such as The Who, Robert Plant, ZZTop and many more. Eventually, even that got boring and that’s when she wrote Camden Girls.

After publication, life became interrupted by an unfortunate traffic accident and Jane moved out of London to Sussex and slowly returned to writing. Her novels don’t fit into any specific category and, frustrated by endless rejections along the lines of ‘You write beautifully but we don’t know how to sell this book’ she started self publishing. Rave reviews gave her the confidence to keep going and believe in what she was writing.

She’s still in Sussex, sharing her life with her musician partner, three horses and a dog and divides her day between writing and riding.

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/JaneOwenAuthor/

Twitter – https://twitter.com/janeowenauthor

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/janeowenauthor/

 

Question & Answer with Jane Owen

  1. How did you come up with the idea for this book?

Definitely actually moving to the suburbs.  All the little houses, side by side, and no idea of what was going on inside not to mention how annoyed people got about infractions of the unwritten rules about not leaving your bins out, not parking in someone else’s space, not keeping the front garden neat and tidy.  

  1. What was your favourite thing about each character?

Tough question!  So many characters, and some of them aren’t even that likeable.  I liked Kelly’s attention to detail, Enid’s sarcasm, Gertrude MacKenzie’s front garden, Sable’s relationship with her husband, Heavenly’s way of lighting up a room with her happiness but to be honest, writing about the dark side of the characters was more fun.  

3.​ Do you have a playlist you listen to when writing?

No, mainly because, and I know this is going to sound awful, but I usually have the tv on when I’m writing.  I love American sit coms.  I’m utterly convinced that all that brilliant comedy writing permeates my work, that some kind of osmosis happens without me even knowing it.

  1. Any favourite foods/drinks you like while writing?

Coffee, more coffee, and occasionally wine.

  1. When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

There was no lightbulb moment.  I’ve always written things, since school days.  Actually, I wanted to be a rock star but I can’t sing.  It took me years and my first book being published to realise that actually being able to write is as much of a gift, or a talent, as being able to sing.  Once I realised that I had a gift, that not every one found it as easy or as pleasurable as I do to sit down and write a book, then I felt confident enough to say, yes, I’m a writer.

  1. What are some are your favorite reads?

Last Night at Twisted River (John Irving), Down Among the Women (Fay Weldon), Villa Incognito (Tom Robbins) The Spire (William Golding) to name but a few.  This question made me realise I’ve been reading books for over fifty years – that’s a lot of books. If you’d asked me this question when I was a child I probably would have said the Narnia books or the Mary Poppins series.  Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying was a favourite as a young woman, but then so was Gone With the Wind.  I do tend to binge read authors.  If I read one book and I like it, I then seek out everything they’ve ever written.  One of my favourite recent reads is The Sellout by Paul Beatty and I’m glad to see there’s more from him that I can get stuck into.

 

 

owen4

Book Extract Read by Jane Owen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ziFaCpCLvpI

 

 

 

owen1.png

 

A Top Read of 2017 · All-time Favorites · Christie's Reviews

Clean Break (A Little Like Destiny #3) by Lisa Suzanne Release Blitz With 5-Star Review!!!!

 

Title: Clean Break
Series: A Little Like Destiny #3
Author: Lisa Suzanne
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 26, 2017

 

Blurb
After two brothers shatter her world, Reese Brady escapes to
her old life. She occupies herself with work and friends in an attempt to find
comfort after her catastrophic summer.
When Reese receives a desperate call from someone she
thought she’d never hear from again, she’s forced to confront the love she
could’ve had. She has to decide between saving the man who broke her heart or
moving on without him. 
Will Reese get her clean break, or will she be forced back
into everything she’s trying to escape?

Purchase Links
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited

CHRISTIE’S REVIEW

~5 STARS~

One of my All-Time Favorites & A Favorite of 2017!

“How do you move on from the only one who has ever spoken to your soul?”

 

Holy cow!!! Lisa Suzanne certainly ended the series PERFECTLY!!!! As with the other books, it only took me mere hours to devour this one. I was waiting for this book on pins and needles, especially with how things ended in book 2.

It begins exactly where book 2 left off. I didn’t think Suzanne could surprise again, but she certainly did with the beginning of this one! I learned very quickly that people aren’t always what they seem to be. Unfortunately for Reese, she finds this out the hard way. To say she is shattered would be a grave understatement. However, she uses this opportunity to begin with a “clean slate.” Her heart is nowhere nearly healed, but she finally invests in herself and not the Fox brothers. At times through the other books, I would get annoyed with her because of what I perceived as weakness. But, with this book, I really got to see what she was made of, and I have to say, I really liked her!

As the synopsis says, she may be dragged back into the Fox drama, and I hoped it wouldn’t stop her new-found strength and determination. If you were on the fence about one brother or the other, I think it’s safe to say you will be 100 percent either in Brian or Mark’s corner very quickly. I wasn’t sure how I would like it when I began the very first book knowing it was about a woman torn between two brothers. But in Lisa Suzanne’s capable hands, she not only made me like it but LOVE it. She handled a tricky, and sometimes painful story into books I loved and couldn’t put down.

I am being vague of the plot because I do not want to spoil a thing about this awesome series!!!! If you are looking for a quick read full of angst, drama, spice, and especially romance, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS SERIES! I do want to add something though, Lisa, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that maybe Ethan will get his own book!

 

Also Available
#1 Amazon Bestseller in Rock Music
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited

#1 Amazon Bestseller in Rock Music

 

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
Author Bio
Lisa Suzanne is a romance author who resides in Arizona with
her husband and baby boy. She’s a former high school English teacher and
college composition instructor. When she’s not cuddling baby Mason, she can be
found working on her latest book or watching reruns of Friends.  
Author Links

 

Cover Reveals · Excerpt

Bad Idea by Nicole French Cover Reveal With Excerpt

 

 

Title: Bad Idea
Series: Bad Idea Series #1
Author: Nicole French

Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance

Cover Design: Raglan Designs

Release Date: November 8, 2017

 

Blurb
 
 

From the second she saw him, Layla Barros knew Nico Soltero was all wrong. Wrong age. Wrong education. Wrong job. Wrong everything. She had a hard enough time convincing her parents that New York really is the right place for their nineteen-year-old daughter without telling them she’s got a thing for the FedEx guy at her new part-time job. Too bad the second she saw him, Layla Barros no longer cared about right and wrong.

Raised with three siblings in Hell’s Kitchen by a single-mom, half Puerto-Rican, half Italian Nico Soltero is a quintessential New York mutt who’s always had to shoulder the burdens of his family. Burdens which have cost him almost all of his dreams, like going to college or becoming an FDNY firefighter. Now, at twenty-six, he’s finally getting the chance to leave the place that’s always felt more like a dead weight than the center of the universe. Too bad the city of his birth has one last hard knock to deal: the girl of his dreams, sitting right in the middle of his delivery route, three months before his plane is supposed to take off.

As Layla and Nico find out, love isn’t always convenient, and it never happens how they planned. The choices that Nico and Layla make now will affect their lives forever. Will they make them together or apart? 

Excerpt
Would it be weird if I just kissed her? Yeah, it would be weird. But all of sudden, that’s all I can think about doing after this shitty, shitty day.
She gives me a little scowl as she wipes water off her chin, but I can tell she’s glad I’m here. She knows it, and I know it. The excitement is written all over both our faces.
“Look what you made me do,” she says in a tone that’s more teasing than mad. “A menace, that’s what you are.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie. You need some help?”
I don’t even wait for her to say yes. I just want to be near her, that’s all. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing “improper.” Today, I just need to be next to this girl who fucking lights up whenever she see me.
So I drop the dolly and walk around the desk so I’m squatting next to her. I grab another napkin off the desktop, and she stares, mouth slightly open, as I dab at the water drops on her collarbone. There’s barely anything, really.
And what a total sham. Nothing improper? This is the definition of improper. But I can’t stop dabbing, can’t stop pressing the napkin over her dewy skin, wishing to God that it was my fingers or my mouth instead.
The donut-shaped desk encircles us, forces us close together, and now that I’m near enough to smell her, I realize this was a really bad idea. She smells like coconuts and flowers, some exotic mix that goes straight to my head and other parts lower down.
I’m not much for fancy shit. I shower at night after I’ve been out all day, and I slap on whatever deodorant I bought on sale last time I was at the drugstore. All of a sudden, I glance down, conscious of the way Layla’s nipples have hardened through her thin black sweater, conscious of the way my pants are suddenly very tight. She inhales sharply, and I’m extremely aware of the fact that I have been heaving boxes around this city all damn day.
Fuck, I think. She must think I absolutely reek.
Quickly, I stand up and shuffle to the other side of the desk to start unloading and scanning packages. This day. This god damn day. If I just ruined my chances with this girl, I’m going to break my own arm off.
And that’s when I realize I actually want a chance with NYU. Layla. I want to go on a date with her. I want to take her out to dinner and hold her hand while we walk around the city. I want to know what kinds of sounds she makes when I kiss her, or maybe even when I do other things to her too.
Fuck. The timing seriously could not be worse. NoI can’t do this right now.
“So, Nico,” she says, pulling me out of my hurricane of doubt. “Got big plans this weekend?”
She’s hopeful, all big blue eyes as she leans over on the desk. I exhale. No, I really can’t do this with her. So even though I’m dying to make her laugh again, I just shrug and set one of the packages down with a thump.
“Not really,” I say. “Working at AJ’s, you know. Take it easy on Sunday, maybe go see some art or something.”
“You like art? Really?”
I look up, no longer needing to pretend I’m annoyed with her. These rich girls––all the goddamn same. They only see the uniform, the scuffed shoes, the brown skin. They see me and think the only thing I’m good for is watching sports and drinking beer. Don’t get me wrong, I like sports and I like beer. But can’t I have other interests too?
“I could like art,” I say casually as I scan another package. “Why does that surprise you? You think the FedEx means Philistine?”
Her rosebud mouth drops open, and I can’t quite hide my smirk. That’s right, baby. I can use big words too

Author Bio

Nicole French is an East Coast/West Coast hybrid creature, Springsteen fanatic, hopeless romantic, and complete and total bookworm. When not writing or teaching about writing, she is hanging out with her family, playing soccer with the rest of the thirty-plus crowd in Seattle, or going on dates with her husband. In her spare time, she likes to go running with her dog, Greta, or practice the piano, but never seems to do either one of these things as much as she should.

Author Links

 

 

Uncategorized

The Flight of Hope by HJ Bellus Release Blitz

THE FLIGHT OF HOPE by USA Today Bestselling Author HJ Bellus is LIVE!

A Standalone Contemporary Romance

A tragic accident. A mother in mourning. Can a second chance rise from the wreckage?

 

Marlee Foster’s life was just getting started. She couldn’t wait for the return of her husband from deployment. After all, he’d be there just in time for the birth of their daughter. The welcome home party is full of joy, but on the way home, tragedy strikes…

 

When Marlee loses her husband and daughter, her friends and family do their best to heal her broken heart. But painful reminders of a future she’ll never see haunt her every day in the small town. Her only hope at a second chance is to leave it all behind…

 

As she sets out on a soul-searching adventure, the mourning widow wonders if the wilderness will give her hope for a brighter future or if she’ll forever be chained to a devastating past. During her journey, Marlee is about to learn that love has a funny way of coming back to those who need it the most…

 

The Flight of Hope is a heart-wrenching contemporary romance in the vein of Nicholas Sparks. If you like emotional journeys, strong-willed heroines, and second chance romances, then you’ll love HJ Bellus’ touching tale.

 

Buy The Flight of Hope to settle in with a tear-jerker today!

 

ADD TO YOUR TBR ON GOODREADS:

AVAILABLE NOW

Amazon INT: getBook.at/TheFlightOfHope

 

Sneak Peek

I’m a shattered woman who has found a broken man and am facing a second chance. Love heals. 

 

They sing song after song together until Jed’s voice fades off.

It was our last kiss.

Our last night.

Our last night.

My heart had to learn to beat for a new reason.

HJ Bellus is a small town girl who loves the art of storytelling. When not making readers laugh or cry, she’s a part-time livestock wrangler that can be found in the middle of Idaho, shot gunning a beer while listening to some Miranda Lambert on her Beats and rocking out in her boots.

HOSTED BY