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Dangerous Desires by J.T. Geissinger (Dangerous Beauty #2) Blog Tour with Excerpt

21 Aug

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He’s everything she has ever desired. But there’s only one way to keep her man alive: let him go.

Dangerous Desires, the second book in the sexy and suspenseful Dangerous Beauty Series from J.T. Geissinger is available now!

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With Nasir’s life on the line, Eva makes a deal with the devil. She slips away to return to Dimitri, the mob boss who held her captive for years, only to step into a new world of trouble. Abducted by one of Dimitri’s most cunning adversaries, Eva finds herself an unwitting pawn in a dangerous game of cat and mouse.

When Eva disappears, Naz is prepared to do anything to find her. Tracking her to the remote regions of Portugal is just the beginning of the hunt. Bewitched by Eva’s beauty, the darkly seductive spy who abducted her now has more than business on his mind, but the only way for the trio to defeat Dimitri is to work together…despite the explosive desires threatening to consume them.

With a game so deadly and the stakes so high, Naz and Eva’s love will be tested in ways neither of them could foresee…or perhaps survive.

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Excerpt:

I hit the “Answer” button and hold the phone to my ear. I don’t say anything, I just listen, gauging the quality of the silence and waiting for him to speak.

After a moment, a deep, rough male voice says, “This must be Naz.”

I’m so shocked I almost drop the phone. The anonymous, untraceable burner phone. I didn’t include my name in the text message, so how the hell does he know it’s me?

“Raphael?”

“Raphael’s dead. I stuck a knife in his chest and threw him overboard.”

His voice has an Irish accent, not French as I was expecting. Judging by that and his words—which sound honest—this isn’t Raphael playing some kind of game.

“Who is this?”

“This is Killian.”

Killian? Who the fuck is Killian? All my senses have sharpened until it seems I can hear the atoms vibrating in the air around me. Then it hits me.

This is probably the big motherfucker who put his hands on Eva.

Unless it’s one of the crew, but I don’t think so. Especially considering what he’d said. Yacht crews don’t generally find it in their best interests to kill their employers and throw them into the sea.

The words leave my throat in a gravelly scrape of pure hatred. “You have something of mine.”

After a pause, he says disapprovingly, “I doubt Eva would be keen on hearing you call her a ‘thing.’”

My eyes flare as wide as my nostrils do. The way he said her name is bad enough, but the implication that he knows how she’d feel is like a sword of fire shoved down my throat.

I demand, “What have you done with her?”

“She’s in good hands,” comes the calm response to my heated question. “You don’t have to worry.”

Is he fucking kidding me?

Beside me, Connor is frowning and tense, but I can’t pay attention to him because of all the murder and mayhem wreaking havoc in my nervous system. “What do you want? What is this about? Where are you going with her? If she’s hurt, I swear on my mother’s grave—”

“It’s beautiful, you know.”

His tone has changed. Now it’s soft, thoughtful, and I have no clue what he’s talking about. “What? What’s beautiful?”

“The way she loves you.”

It feels as if King Kong just punched me in the chest. Eva told this man she loves me? This man who grabbed her by the throat and dragged her across the deck of a yacht? She hadn’t even told me herself.

My God, has he tortured her for information?

Before I can respond, he says, “I hope you deserve it. To be honest, you sound a wee bit unstable. Are you sure you’re good enough for her? You might have to convince me. After everything she’s been through, she deserves the best.” His voice drops. “And Christ, she’s exquisite. Those eyes. That body. That fire. No wonder you and Dimitri are so desperate to get her back.”

Breathing hard, my heart feeling as if it’s about to explode, I say, “Put her on the phone.”

“She’s sleeping.”

I growl, “Listen to me, you son of a bitch—”

“Naz. What kind of a name is that? Is it short for something?”

Connor is motioning for me to give him the phone. I think he can sense things have gone completely off the rails. I wave him away, frustrated and needing to hit something.

“Yeah. It’s short for, ‘If you hurt her, I’m gonna kill you in every way there is to be killed.’ It’s short for, ‘I will track you down to the ends of the earth and make you and everyone you’ve ever met pay a thousand times over for any pain you cause the woman I love.’ It’s short for, ‘I WILL NEVER STOP UNTIL I GET HER BACK.’”

There’s a pause, then what sounds like a satisfied grunt. “All right. You’re a little too hotheaded, but you sound sincere. So I’ll answer your questions. What I want is something Eva’s going to help me get. What this is about is the future of nations. Where I’m going with her is . . . well, I can’t tell you that yet because if I do you’ll probably be here before I can get what I want from Dimitri and then all my careful plans will be ruined.”

I let loose a frustrated holler and Killian laughs.

“I get that a lot. Eva made almost the exact same noise a short while ago. She didn’t like what I did to Raphael.” His voice turns wistful. “She’s sensitive that way, isn’t she? Concerned for the well-being of other people. Even to the point of sacrificing herself. Honestly, Naz, she’s remarkable. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s . . .”

In his pause, I hear how loudly I’m breathing.

“Compelling, I think is the right word. Or maybe fascinating. Once you start looking at her, it’s impossible to look away.” He chuckles. “But you know that already. You sound obsessed.”

“Killian—”

“I’m going to destroy this phone after we’re done talking, because I’m sure you’re tracking it. But I want you to know I was truthful when I told you she’s safe with me. And I’ll try to get my business with Dimitri concluded as quickly as possible.”

He hesitates. When he speaks again there’s a new tone in his voice that raises all the hair on my arms.

“Because the more time I spend with your woman, the less I want to give her back.”




 

About J.T. Geissinger

J.T. Geissinger is a bestselling author of emotionally charged romance and women’s fiction. Ranging from funny, feisty rom coms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold more than one million copies and been translated into several languages.

She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book, the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and is a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America®. She has also been a finalist in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.

Her first novel was published in 2012. Since then she’s written eighteen more novels. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking wine, surfing the internet, and daydreaming about all the things she’s going to be when she grows up. She lives near the beach in Los Angeles with her husband and deaf/demented rescue kitty, Ginger.

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Website: http://www.jtgeissinger.com

 

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I Hate You by Ilsa Madden-Mills Blog Tour with Excerpt & Review

21 Aug

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I want you . . . even when I hate you.

I Hate You, an all-new enemies to lovers sports romance from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills, is available now!

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Blaze Townsend: I hate you.

Charisma Rossi: I hate you more.

She’s been expecting this ever since their latest showdown. She had good reason.

Hottest guy she’s ever seen.

Former fling.

Dumped her in front of her friends.

At her own party.

So no, she’s not about to forgive and forget just because he sits next to her in class.

He thinks all he has to do is turn on those baby blues, and she’ll melt right back into his arms. Please.She’d be crazy to let this cocky player affect her again. (Tell that to her body.)

Charisma Rossi.

Nerd girl with a dash of bad.

The one who got under his skin.

The one he cut loose.

Blaze knows she’s the riskiest prospect at Waylon University, but none of the interchangeable girls he hooks up with have ever made him feel the way she did. There’s absolutely no way he can have the girl and the game.

So why can’t he stop trying to win her back?

Can this wide receiver score the girl or will he make the biggest fumble of his life




Christie’s Review

5 STARS

An All-Time Favorite

A Top Read of 2019 

Ilsa Mills-Madden has this habit of dragging me in heart and soul into her books from the very first pages, and I Hate You is no different. It’s a sexy, romantic enemies to lovers romance with amazing characters and will definitely leave you swooning. 

Charm and Blaze are complete opposites of each other and don’t have much in common except for one very important thing. They are afraid to take a chance on love. 

“Love hurts; I know it does. Love is opening yourself up like a book, letting someone see your secrets with every paragraph and page exposed, knowing that the person you’re showing it to can walk away any minute. And maybe he will. Love only works if you try, if you take a chance.” ~Charm~

Charm is an intelligent, funny, and sassy young woman. Blaze is one of the campus’s football stars. She isn’t the type of girl Blaze would be even interested in, but there is something about her he can’t quite resist. She usually picks safer guys than Blaze. However, there is this pull of attraction between them, and before long they give into their desires. Things seem to be going smoothly until Blaze begins having feelings for her, and he can’t have that, so what does he do? He dumps her very publicly, and he becomes her enemy…until he isn’t. These two definitely have an on and off again type relationship. 

On the surface, it appears Blaze is a player. He was at one time, but Charm could change that if he would open his heart to her. Underneath his sex appeal and humor is a vulnerable man. He is so frightened that she will eventually leave him because of the way in which he grew up. 

“Sooner or later, she’s going to let go…she’s going to look at me…she’s going to see the real me. She’s going to see the truth.” ~Blaze~

What he doesn’t realize is that she does see him, and she is falling in love with the “real” Blaze. 

Charm isn’t without her own issues. She has some real trust issues because of her parents’ marriage and the way she was treated by boys when she was younger.  She has her own set of rules when it comes to her relationships, and it doesn’t involve falling in love…until Blaze begins knocking down the walls she has erected to protect herself.

“There’s a hint of authority in his tone and everything inside of me wants to resist, but he has power over me, something no one else has ever had.” ~Charm~

She and Blaze are going to have to decide whether to take that chance on being rejected when they lay their hearts on the line. I loved these two from the very beginning. Each one challenged and complemented the other. There is angst and miscommunication between them, but Madden-Mills is a master at making those things work in her books. Those elements only add more feeling and emotion to the story itself. 

I’m showing my age here, but one of my favorite movies was my Sixteen Candles, and it still is. Jake Ryan represented perfection. Every girl in the 80s wanted a Jake Ryan. He made my heart pitter-patter, and Mills-Madden recreates that feeling for me with all of her men EVERY SINGLE TIME!!!! She will ALWAYS be one of my favorite writers!!!! If you haven’t discovered her yet, you have no clue what a delight you are missing!!!!




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Excerpt:

“Need some help?”

I’m on my tiptoes when the question comes, trying to reach a book on the top shelf in the bookstore at the student center.

My heart does a nosedive off a cliff as that familiar gruff voice washes over me, his accent a smooth drawl that’s reminiscent of hot summer nights and slow kisses—kisses we never had…well, except for that one time freshman year.

I ignore him and try to grab the book.

“You’re too short. Let me,” Blaze says, this time closer, his voice soft.

I ease back on my feet and whip around, internally wishing I’d worn something more I hate you and don’t you wish you still had me, but sadly, I’m not in my kickass shoes and itchy dress. Today it’s flat-soled red Converse, black joggers, and a Yankees sweatshirt. I blow at a piece of hair in my face. Shit.

Of course, he looks magnificent in a tight long-sleeved black shirt that clings to his broad chest and tapered jeans molded to those leg muscles. His face is unshaven, the darkness on his jawline adding a broody look.

Curse him and his hotness.

I stare at him a little too long, until I snap out of it.

“I don’t need help,” My voice is strangled as I move to brush past him—forget the textbooks—but he reaches out and takes my elbow.

“Charisma—”

His fingers are a hot brand on my skin—it’s the first time we’ve touched in three months—and I pull away. A tremble starts in my legs. How dare he? It was one thing to see him in a social setting and pretend I was fine, but when we’re face to face without people watching… “Don’t put your hands on me. I’m not your hookup anymore, football player.”

His face reddens, and he drops his arms. “I didn’t mean—” he stops, not finishing as he studies my face.

I wonder what he sees. You know what he sees, Charisma—someone who wasn’t up to his usual standards.

Everything I didn’t say last night rushes out. “Didn’t mean to what? Dump me in the middle of my own sorority’s party in front of all my friends and half of campus? And you know, that’s totally fine. We both knew I wasn’t enough to keep your attention.”

His jaw clenches and he frowns, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t plan for things to happen that way.”

“How did you want to break up with me? Over candlelight? A text would have worked just fine,” I bite out.

The silence builds between us, and he watches me intently, as if trying to figure me out. He starts at my hair and works his way down to my feet, then comes back to my face. Just when I think I might combust from the intensity of his eyes, he looks away.

“What?” I cock my hip. “You look like you want to say something.”

He taps his hand against his leg. Ice-blue eyes, ones I used to stare into and get butterflies from, glitter down at me. “You just can’t handle that ended things, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart.”

“Never were.”

Shit…shit…my heart feels like an anvil just landed on it, heavy and hard, and I can’t breathe for a second at his words, part of me pissed, the other part devastated. I wanted to be his sweetheart, I did, but he…

You’re not my type.

“Thanks for the reminder,” I say quietly, my anger folding away piece by piece and slipping into that horrible self-pity I despise.

He closes his eyes and scrubs his face with those talented hands, strong and big and capable, skillful with a football.

He steps in front of me, much like he did last night, and I tilt my head back to take him in. At my height of five feet, three inches, it’s hard to glare at a guy who towers over you and not look ridiculous, but I manage—until his eyes flicker with lingering emotion.

I dart my eyes around the store, searching for a way out, but I’m stuck between him and a bookshelf. “You’re blocking my path.” I focus on his legs. No sexiness there—well, except for the tight muscles under that denim.

“This is what I know,” he says in a low voice, ignoring my statement. “You told me we were just messing around. You set all the rules. Isn’t that how you operate? So why does me ending things with you even matter?”

“You never asked for more. You could have.” The revealing words fall around us, tinged with hurt, and I want to pull them back.

The silence between us crackles, yet I’m aware of other people around us. There are a few girls on another aisle, and I glance over as one of them pulls out her phone. No doubt she’s taking a picture of him. Part of me retreats, anxious she’ll get me in that photo—a girl who clearly doesn’t belong. He doesn’t notice. Everyone knows who he is, and they’re probably wondering why he’s talking to me.

“No, I didn’t,” he finally says, the words taut as if pulled from him unwillingly. He taps his leg, his tell that he’s anxious or angry. We weren’t together long, but every moment we spent together, I studied him like a wine connoisseur given a glass of rare cabernet. I know what makes him laugh, usually random things that make no sense. I know that groan he makes deep in this throat when he slides inside me, like he’s home. I know the feel of his hand when he cups my face and stares at me, a hesitant expression on his face—

“You can’t even look at me anymore. I wonder why,” he says, his voice a challenge.

Steeling myself, I face those baby blues. “You know why. I wish we’d never met up last fall. I wish you’d never flirted with me. I wish I’d never fucked you that first time in the library—”

“Same page. Same fucking page, Charisma.” And then he’s walking away, broad shoulders swaying as he stalks down the aisle…


About Ilsa Madden-Mills

Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.

Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4.

A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero.

She’s addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.

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The Lake of Learning by Steve Berry & M.J. Rose Blog Tour with Excerpt

21 Aug

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The Lake of Learning, an all-new action-packed adventure from New York Times bestselling authors Steve Berry and M.J. Rose, is available now!

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For over a decade Cassiopeia Vitt has been building an authentic French castle, using only materials and techniques from the 13th century. But when a treasure is unearthed at the construction site—an ancient Book of Hours—a multitude of questions are raised, all pointing to an ancient and forgotten religious sect.

Once the Cathars existed all across southern France, challenging Rome and attracting the faithful by the tens of thousands. Eventually, in 1208, the Pope declared them heretics and ordered a crusade—the first where Christians killed Christians—and thousands were slaughtered, the Cathars all but exterminated. Now a piece of that past has re-emerged, one that holds the key to the hiding place of the most precious object the Cathars possessed. And when more than one person becomes interested in that secret, in particular a thief and a billionaire, the race is on.

From the medieval walled city of Carcassonne, to the crest of mysterious Montségur, to a forgotten cavern beneath the Pyrenees, Cassiopeia is drawn deeper and deeper into a civil war between two people obsessed with revenge and murder.

The Lake of Learning now available

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Excerpt:

Givors, France

Monday, May 4

The Present

11:40 a.m.

Cassiopeia Vitt knew they’d found something important.

How?

Hard to say. Just an instinct that came from years of digging in the dirt, building a castle. It was her labor of love, one that would probably consume her entire adult life. But it was worth it. Especially at moments like this when the French soil finally yielded up its secrets.

“It’s definitely something,” Viktor said.

A dozen men and women who’d also been working at the construction site had stopped, now gathered around where she and her site superintendent stood. Viktor had been digging an exploratory trench for a new masonry wall that was scheduled to be erected next week when he hit something. The stone for it was being quarried and already rose in piles nearby. She knelt down in the muck and peered into the trench, damp from a rainstorm last night. Despite a thin film of mud, a gleam suggested precious metal.

“Looks like gold,” Viktor said.

“Any idea what it is?” she asked.

“From less than an inch exposed?” He laughed. “No idea. There’s only one way to find out. Let me dig some more.”

“I’ll help, it’ll go faster.”

“Because goodness knows patience isn’t one of your best virtues.”

“Or yours,” she teased back.

She’d been working the project for a long time. Best estimate was that the castle stood at about thirty percent complete. Three curtain walls were up, the fourth still on the drawing board. Several inner buildings had likewise been erected, their interiors though still being planned.

And Viktor was right.

Patience was not her virtue.

Together, they lay flat on their stomachs and carefully set about enlarging the find, slow and careful, using all of the proper techniques to keep it uncorrupted. Painstakingly, trowel by trowel, they removed layers of clay, rock, and debris. Finally, they exposed a corner and enough of one side to see that they’d located a gold box.

Ingénieur, it looks like you’ve got yourself a treasure chest,” Viktor said.

The staff had bestowed upon her the label of engineer during the first year of the project and, while she was generally averse to nicknames, she liked that one.

“Judging by what we can see, I’d say it’s about forty-six centimeters wide and about the same in height,” she said.

“And with that deduction I suggest we take a break. My back is killing me,” Viktor said.

Reluctantly, she agreed. Her own spine also ached from lying on her stomach too long. Yes, she was curious to uncover more. But like Viktor had noted earlier, patience seemed in order.

They left the site and headed toward the high barn that housed the reception center, there to accommodate the several thousand visitors who came every year. Inside, in the back, was an employee kitchen where Cassiopeia brewed them both espressos. Viktor sipped his. She finished hers in two gulps.

“Ready to get back to work and see if we can remove it?” she asked as she laid the cup in the sink.

“Slow down. I said a break not a breath.”

She couldn’t sit still, so she brewed herself a second coffee.

“I’m as curious as you are,” Viktor said. “But that thing has been there a long time. It’s not going anywhere. Drink your coffee.”

She knew he was right, but it was hard to tamp down her excitement. Finding artifacts was not unusual. Through the centuries the locale had played host to a variety of historical buildings, starting with a Roman fortress nearly two thousand years ago. Hundreds of items had been unearthed. Things like a 15th century ceramic jug without a chip. A pewter cape closure with a roughhewn topaz at its center. A thick brown glass bottle still containing dregs of ancient olive oil. And, really cool, a sword, maybe 13th century, in a badly deteriorated leather scabbard. All were important and valuable finds, and she planned on displaying them in a museum that would occupy part of the finished castle one day.

So what had the earth yielded this time?




 

About Steve Berry

Steve Berry is the New York Times and #1 internationally bestselling author of nineteen novels, which include: The Warsaw Protocol, The Malta Exchange, The Bishop’s Pawn, The Lost Order, The 14th Colony, The Patriot Threat, The Lincoln Myth, The King’s Deception, The Columbus Affair, The Jefferson Key, The Emperor’s Tomb, The Paris Vendetta, The Charlemagne Pursuit, The Venetian Betrayal, The Alexandria Link, The Templar Legacy, The Third Secret, The Romanov Prophecy, and The Amber Room. His books have been translated into 40 languages with 25,000,000 copies in 51 countries. They consistently appear in the top echelon of The New York Times, USA Today, and Indie bestseller lists.

History lies at the heart of every Steve Berry novel. It’s his passion, one he shares with his wife, Elizabeth, which led them to create History Matters, a foundation dedicated to historic preservation. Since 2009 Steve and Elizabeth have crossed the country to save endangered historic treasures, raising money via lectures, receptions, galas, luncheons, dinners and their popular writers’ workshops. To date, 3,500 students have attended those workshops with over $1.5 million dollars raised.

Steve’s devotion to historic preservation was recognized by the American Library Association, which named Steve its spokesperson for National Preservation Week. Among his other honors are the Royden B. Davis Distinguished Author Award; the Barnes & Noble Writers for Writers Award given by Poets & Writers; the Anne Frank Human Writes Award; and the Silver Bullet, bestowed by International Thriller Writers for his philanthropic work. He has been chosen both the Florida and Georgia Writer of the Year. He’s also an emeritus member of the Smithsonian Libraries Advisory Board. In 2010, a NPR survey named The Templar Legacy one of the top 100 thrillers ever written.

Steve was born and raised in Georgia, graduating from the Walter F. George School of Law at Mercer University. He was a trial lawyer for 30 years and held elective office for 14 of those years. He is a founding member of International Thriller Writers—a group of nearly 6,000 thriller writers from around the world—and served three years as its co-president.

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About M.J. Rose

M.J. Rose grew up in New York City mostly in the labyrinthine galleries of the Metropolitan Museum, the dark tunnels and lush gardens of Central Park and reading her mother’s favorite books before she was allowed. She believes mystery and magic are all around us but we are too often too busy to notice… Books that exaggerate mystery and magic draw attention to it and remind us to look for it and revel in it.

Rose is a the Co-President and founding member of International Thriller Writers and the founder of the first marketing company for authors: AuthorBuzz. She runs the blog, Museum of Mysteries.

In 1998, her first novel Lip Service was the first e-book and the first self-published novel chosen by the LiteraryGuild/Doubleday Book Club as well as the first e-book to go on to be published by a mainstream New York publishing house.

Rose has been profiled in Time magazine, Forbes, The New York Times, Business 2.0, Working Woman, Newsweek, and New York Magazine.

She has appeared on The Today Show, Fox News, The Jim Lehrer NewsHour, and features on her have appeared in dozens of magazines and newspapers in the U.S. and abroad, including USAToday, Stern, L’Official, Poets and Writers, and Publishers Weekly.

Rose graduated from Syracuse University and spent the ’80s in advertising. She was the Creative Director of Rosenfeld Sirowitz and Lawson and she has a commercial in the Museum of Modern Art in NYC.

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