Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Ruthless King by Meghan March


Get ready for the darker and dirtier side of New Orleans with a brand new alpha romance from USA Today bestselling author Meghan March. New Orleans belongs to me. You don’t know my name, but I control everything you see—and all the things you don’t. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn’t need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn’t know she caught my attention. She should’ve been more careful. I’m going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It’s time to collect what I’m owed. Keira Kilgore, you’re now the property of Lachlan Mount. 

*Ruthless King is book one of the Mount Trilogy*  

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35127986-ruthless-king

 

Amazon US | Amazon UK |  Amazon Paperback  |   iBooks  |  BN  | Kobo


 

Holy book hangover, Batman. I can't stop thinking about this book. Ruthless King is my first book by Meghan March but I guarantee it will not be my last. First of all, I HAVE to finish this series. While I wait for that, I will be picking up every other book she has written. Her writing is flawless and it flows so well. You will be instantly hooked from the very first page and she won't let you go until the very last page.

Ruthless King is the story of Kiera Kilgore and Lachlan Mount. Kiera is a very strong willed female lead. I enjoyed that she was no nonsense that at times was at war with herself over it.  Kiera has taken over her families distillery and is determined to keep it afloat.

Lachlan Mount is the epitome of an Alpha Male. "I'm going to fuck you like you've been begging a man to fuck you your entire life. And I guarantee while I'm buried inside you, there won't be a single second when you feel like it's against your will." Meghan March does a great job of making you want to hate him but love him at the same time. She completely screws with your emotions. Your heart will want to love him but your head will tell you you hate him. It's writing at it's best. The emotions I felt while reading this book were off the charts.

Ruthless King is book one in the Mount Trilogy. It's full of twists, turns and scorching hot sex scenes. You won't want to put it down.  I can't wait for the next book in this series. 


My first journey into the world of Meghan March and I have to say I'm left very satisfied. The first in this new trilogy, Ruthless King will keep you thoroughly engaged from beginning to end. Lachlan Mount is a dirty talking mysterious alpha who holds a great deal of power in his community. Keira Kilgore is a smart, fiery, legacy whiskey maker trying to save her family's distillery business. Together they push each other's limits while heating up the pages. With a few twists and turns along the way, and a surprising ending, you are not going to want to miss out on Ruthless King or the next book in Lachlan and Keira's story.
    

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Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She's also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she's ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Prince Charming by CD Reiss



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Prince Charming an all-new sexy standalone from New York Times bestselling author CD Reiss coming February 20th.

Prince Charming by CD Reiss

Release Date: February 20, 2018

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Synopsis:

  Once upon a time there was a handsome and charming British hacker who fell in love with an ambitious and sensible FBI agent…. Keaton Bridge is exactly the kind of guy a straight-arrow like Cassie doesn’t need. He’s dangerous. He’s criminal. He may or may not have worked covertly for MI6. He’s four pounds of trouble in a two pound bag. Keaton’s got his own trouble. He’s going legit and the last thing a guy needs in the transition from black hat to white hat is an FBI agent sniffing around. This shouldn’t be hard for either one of them. Just stay away. But that’s easier said than done. After a night of passion, the heat between them burns hotter than ever. It’s not long before Keaton will do anything to make Cassie happy. So he does what any prince would do to win his lady. He hacks into the FBI database to get her a promotion. After that, their journey to Happily Ever After turns risky, dangerous, and very sexy.


PREORDERNOW

Preorder Today!

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2i2MIFJ
 

About the Author

CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn't pick up she's at the well hauling buckets. Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master's degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels. She's frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn't ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood. If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.


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Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Can't Walk Away (Nashville Dreams) by Sandy James

In Nashville the stars shine a little brighter, songs sound a little sweeter, and love lasts a lifetime.

Young, rich, and better looking than a man has a right to be, successful songwriter Brad “Hitman” Maxwell was once Nashville’s biggest celebrity.  Then a heartbreaking loss and a shocking betrayal caused his light to go out.  Now, instead of pouring his soul into song, he pours beers at Words & Music.  His bar is the perfect escape—a place to forget his past—until the night she takes the stage…

Savannah Wolf used to dream of becoming Nashville’s hottest star.  Now, as a young single mom, she dreams of a steady income and being home to tuck her daughter into bed.  So when Brad Maxwell offers her the gig of a lifetime—playing as the headliner at Words & Music—Savannah discovers the best of both worlds.  And she refuses to ruin this opportunity by falling for her sexy boss.  Except that Brad suddenly starts writing music again…music inspired by her.

http://bit.ly/2u8qK9q

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2v128y5
*I received an ARC for a honest review via the publisher and Netgalley*

I read Can't Walk Away in one day. This was such a great read. I have to admit it was refreshing that it was adult characters with adult problems playing out in really relatable ways. It was different level and type of angst. Being a fan of country music I really enjoyed the music and atmosphere the author created, it made you feel the connection forming and deepening between Brad and Savannah more intensely. Both Brad and Savannah had things happen in their past that have made them hesitate with being a part of, or how they are a part of, the country music industry. But as Savannah's undisputed talent comes to light it throws both into a whirlwind of events and circumstances that seem almost unavoidable. From the main characters, Brad and Savannah, to the secondary characters gearing up for their own books, this had it all...including all the feels. I tend to be hesitant with new to me authors but I'm so glad that I was offered a copy of Can't Walk Away and didn't shy away from diving right in, I encourage other readers to do the same. You won't regret it.
By the fifth take, Brad was losing his patience.
Had he been wrong in thinking Savannah was something special, something new? He sure as hell didn’t think so.
Then why couldn’t he get her to sing with the passion she’d shown back at Words & Music?
Maybe it was the song. “That Smile” was his first attempt at writing in a long time. Perhaps it wasn’t up to snuff?
No. When Brad had heard Savannah sing it earlier, he’d known he’d written a strong song with a good melody and a catchy beat.
Something was clearly blocking her talent.
“I’m sorry, Brad.” She dropped the headphones from her ears to let them rest around her neck. Then, head bowed, she started shuffling through the sheet music.
He’d never seen her look defeated before, and he didn’t like it. This wasn’t the Savannah who’d been his muse. This wasn’t the woman who brought back his music.
This was…a disaster.
But why?
He watched her closely, trying to find some telltale clue as to what was going on today that had robbed Savannah of the passion and talent he’d counted on. Her hair was braided, the braid an eclectic mixture of blond and blue. A blush tinted her cheeks, and he could hear her nervousness through the quaver in her voice, especially in the last notes of her fifth recording.
Something was definitely wrong, and he was going to have to find a way to fix it. But he couldn’t do that from another room. Even though he could see her, something told him she needed something more personal. Unsure of whether being closer to her would make a difference, he figured it was worth a shot.
Brad started a new recording so he could capture the song if he was able to help her, pushed himself away from the console, and headed to the recording booth with his remote control in his pocket. He pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Savannah glanced up from the music, offering him a wan smile that made his frustration evaporate. She knew something was wrong, too. Maybe if they put their heads together, they could get back the magic.
After pulling a stool beside hers, he sat. Then he gently took off her headphones, plucked the pages from her hands, and placed them back on the music stand. She let her eyes meet his, and he could see her concern.
“We’re going do things a little differently this time,” Brad said, keeping his voice low.
“We are?”
He nodded and scooted closer. Then he wrapped his hand around one of hers. “You’re not going to think about recording.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope. This time you’re just going to sing to me. That’s all.”
Her whole body relaxed, and Brad had to fight the desire to smile.
“Sing to me, Savannah. Just to me. Okay?”
She nodded, and before she could get a chance to think about what he was doing, he pulled a remote from his pocket and began the music playback so that it echoed through the room.
The notes of the intro flowed around them, and he kept her grounded by not allowing her to glance away. When she opened her mouth to sing, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and offered her an encouraging smile.
And sing she did. Each delightful note came from deep inside her, and he found himself caught in some kind of spell, the same type she’d woven around him back at Words & Music. He hung on each rise and fall of that delicious voice until the last note echoed through the booth.
The song might have ended, but not the magic. Brad found himself leaning closer, his eyes fixed on her soft, pink mouth. Desire ripped through him as she mimicked his action, drawing ever so slowly closer until he could feel the sweet heat of her breath against his face.
With a groan of surrender, he captured her mouth with his own, giving her no warning as his tongue swept deep inside.
Savannah nearly knocked over her stool when she rose to thread her arms around his neck. She was such a little bit of a thing that he could stay seated and draw her between his outstretched legs without interrupting the kiss. As she moved closer, Brad wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against him.
The kiss turned ravenous, and he realized that he was done fighting this attraction.




Sandy James lives in a quiet suburb of Indianapolis and is a high school psychology teacher.  She owns a small stable of harness racehorses and enjoys spending time at Hoosier Park racetrack.  She has been an Amazon #1 Bestseller multiple times and has won numerous awards including two HOLT Medallions. 

Follow Sandy James on BookBub: http://bit.ly/2vuaGOF
Follow Sandy James on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2u8HL3g

Monday, October 9, 2017

Blog Tour : Gun Shy by Lili St. Germain


Gun-Shy-iBooks.jpg
A stand alone psychological thriller.

** NOT A ROMANCE **

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, seventeen-year-old Jennifer Thomas disappears without a trace.

The second girl in nine years.

Identical cases. Identical conditions. Only last time, the girl was found. Dead, stuffed in a well beside the creek that feeds the town's water supply.

The killer was never found.

As the small town mobilizes and searches for newly vanished Jennifer Thomas, one suspect comes to the fore. But did he do it? Or is there something else at play? Something nobody could have anticipated?

For Jennifer's friend Cassie Carlino, the worst is yet to come. As she pins MISSING posters to store windows and joins the search, she begins to suspect that Jennifer's disappearance might be much closer to her than she could have ever imagined.







Leo

I visit Jennifer every evening at the diner; she seems to like the attention, and I could use the distraction. I make sure to turn up just before her shift ends, and she gives me a ride home every night. The first night she came over we ended up talking for hours. My mouth hurt by the end, every sense on high alert. I was a gentleman. I didn’t lay a hand on her again, not after she started to talk. She’s in trouble. A lot of trouble. I think it eased her mind to be able to confess to somebody who pretty much wrote the book on trouble in this town.
I mean, there’s not a thing I can do to help the girl. Not unless she tells me who got her into this mess in the first place. “That’s the problem with men,” she said to me when I urged her to give me the name of the guy blackmailing her. “They always jump straight to problem-solving. Men always want to fix everybody.”
“You don’t want to be fixed?” I’d asked her.
“I can fix myself,” she’d replied. “I just need somebody to understand.”
I don’t understand. Her predicament is something I’ve never experienced. But I can listen. I listen to her talk as she drives me home in her shiny new car every night, and it makes me feel less of a fuck-up. I mean, she hasn’t killed anyone. But she’s planning to. And that’s why we’ve found each other. I am a killer and she is ready to spill blood. She is a welcome distraction from my sins, and I am a makeshift altar for her to lay her own sins upon. Because when I’m with Jennifer, I don’t think about Cassie Carlino. I don’t think of Karen Brainard. And, most especially, I don’t think of Teresa King and the way she burned beside me in that car.
* * *
The night Jennifer Thomas disappears is like all the rest. I go to the diner. Order nachos and a Coke. I’m surprised Jennifer is working. It’s Thanksgiving, and the place is deserted. Even Amanda is nowhere to be seen.
“Working on Thanksgiving?” I ask Jennifer, as she slides my food in front of me. She shrugs, that glitter lipgloss catching the light as she moves. “It’s just another day, isn’t it?”
I nod.
“Besides,” she says, “It pisses my dad off. I asked for this shift.”
At ten, I help her to turn out all the lights. I wait beside her as she locks the front doors of the diner, feeling vaguely worried about the fact that somebody left a sixteen year old cheerleader alone to lock up this late at night. I note the lack of video surveillance, the remote location, the fact that everyone is tucked safely inside their houses while Jennifer is alone with a convicted criminal in the dead of night.
Jennifer offers me a ride home, which I accept. Except, instead of driving me straight home like she has done for the past six nights in a row, Jennifer pulls her Range Rover off the road into an uncleared section of pine trees that tower over us. The track is narrow and winding and she doesn’t answer me when I ask her where she’s taking us.
She stops in a small clearing and cuts the lights. The engine is still running. Bits of snow fall outside, slow and bloated in their trajectory toward the ground. Jennifer’s hands are small as they grip the steering wheel; her eyes lit up by the red illumination of the dashboard, making her look almost demonic.
“What are we doing here?” I ask her again.
“I don’t want to go home,” she says staring straight ahead.
“Fair enough,” I reply. I watch her as she struggles to find words. She squirms in her heated leather seat, her nails shiny and perfect, her shoulders sagging under the weight of something I cannot see.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asks me in a tiny voice, and she sounds so mouse-like and weak that I almost laugh.
“Do I think you’re pretty?” I echo, feeling a smirk cut its way across my face. “Jennifer, you’re so pretty I could die just from looking at you.”
She rolls her eyes. “You think I’m stupid. You’re just here because you feel sorry for me, Leo.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think you’re stupid. And I’m not here because I feel sorry for you.”
She swallows thickly; I can see the pulse beat nervously in her throat. “Then why are you here?”
“Well, I guess I’m here right now because you just drove us off the road and into the woods.”
“You know what I mean.”
Do, I, though? I sigh. “Because you’re the only person in this town worth talking to who will even look at me.”
She bites her lip and I have the sudden, piercing urge inside my skull to wrap my hands around her throat and drag her onto my lap. That’s some messed up shit. She’s sixteen. Six. TEEN. I’m repeating the number in my head over and over, willing my dick to settle down. I can feel the throb of wanting her in my cock, in the thunderous rush of blood that makes my heart hit my ribcage like the firing of a gun, bang, bang, bang. My need eclipses my rationality. So what if she’s sixteen? She drove into this fucking clearing and licked her lips and asked me if I thought she was pretty.
“Why have you been back to the diner every single night, just as I’m about to get off shift?”
“Umm,” I try. “It’s the only decent place in town?”
She narrows her eyes at me and there’s a fire inside her pupils; it might be below freezing outside, but it’s a billion degrees in here. We’re already fogging up the windows with our breath, and I haven’t even laid a finger on her.
“Liar,” she says. “I want the real reason.”
You’re about to get the real reason, sweetheart. I grip the armrest. I grip it so hard my fingernails ache.
“I’m here because I’m a bad guy, Jennifer.”
“And?”
“Because you’re so pretty I can’t think about anybody else. Because I want to do things to you… that would probably frighten you. Things that might hurt you.”
Her cheeks are flush; her breathing quickens. I haven’t even touched her, and she’s already excited. Or scared. Or both. I want to reach between her thighs and see if it’s lust I’m reading on her face.
“What kinds of things?” she asks.
I cover my face with my hands.  
“What kinds of things?” she repeats, a hand on my shoulder. I let my hands fall into my lap and fix my stare on this girl who should be home with her family, not out here in the dark in the woods and snow with a criminal. I watch in awe as she slides her seat back and reaches her hands up underneath her skirt, tugging a pair of panties down her legs and unhooking them from her heels. She can’t look at me as she hands me a pair of baby blue silk panties with a bow on the front. I grip the underwear in my fist so tight I could tear it to shreds with a single pull, but I don’t rip it. I find the damp spot of arousal in the center of the material and bring it up to my face. I close my eyes. I breathe Jennifer in.
I shouldn’t be here. Not with her. Not like this. I will get out of the car, I decide. I will walk home. I will not touch this girl.
But then, “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she whispers.
Fuck.
I grab her. I drown her shock out with my mouth. I squeeze her slender neck with my prison-rough palms. I keep my promise and I hurt Jennifer Thomas until I’m sated.
It’s only after when I’m looking at the blank expression on her face, the odd tilt of her neck, the bruises blossoming on her spread thighs, that I understand what I have done.
By then, it’s too late.
The night Jennifer Thomas disappears is like all the rest.
Apart from the way it ends.

*I received an ARC for an honest review from the author through blog tour sign up*
I will always, always, always, one-click any Lili St. Germain book. Gun Shy is no different. It has been an extremely highly anticipated read of mine for quite some time, so I was over the moon when I saw the ARC pop up on my kindle. However, throughout, and when I finished, I was left feeling unsure about it. It wasn't that I couldn't handle some of the darker themes and material, I live for that stuff. I love Psychological Thrillers too. There was a lot I loved and just as much I was left with that head scratching feeling . I liked the story but there was stuff that didn't make sense to me and it just kept feeling like I was waiting for more. The twists and turns weren't as twisty as I was expecting. Maybe that was my problem, I was over excited and placed unreasonable expectations on it. This time out, I didn't love it unfortunately, it just didn't click with me. Somewhere down the road I'll do a reread and if I've changed my meh feelings I'll update my rating and review.








Lili writes dark, delicious romance full of love, lust and revenge. Her USA Today Bestselling Gypsy Brothers series focuses on a morally bankrupt biker gang and the young woman who seeks her vengeance upon them. The Cartel series is a trilogy that explores the beginnings of the club, published through HarperCollins.


Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, excellent coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Instagram.


She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.



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Friday, October 6, 2017

Release Blitz : Gun Shy by Lili St. Germain



Gun-Shy-iBooks.jpg
A stand alone psychological thriller.


HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, seventeen-year-old Jennifer Thomas disappears without a trace.

The second girl in nine years.

Identical cases. Identical conditions. Only last time, the girl was found. Dead, stuffed in a well beside the creek that feeds the town's water supply.

The killer was never found.

As the small town mobilizes and searches for newly vanished Jennifer Thomas, one suspect comes to the fore. But did he do it? Or is there something else at play? Something nobody could have anticipated?

For Jennifer's friend Cassie Carlino, the worst is yet to come. As she pins MISSING posters to store windows and joins the search, she begins to suspect that Jennifer's disappearance might be much closer to her than she could have ever imagined.

Amazon

Cassie
I am a girl with a darkness inside me.

Carefully placed. Cleverly concealed.

A darkness that could devour you.

One hand on a cold pane of glass, watching the snow fall outside. It’s pitch-black out here, far away from bright city lights. You can’t see a goddamned thing. You can only feel fingers digging into your hips, hot and insistent, a tug of hair, a smack of skin, and the snowflakes as they fall through the weak pool of light that the porch light illuminates below. And the pain. He’s not gentle when he uses me to satisfy his want.
I think he likes it like this, up on the bed, against the window, as if somebody might see. But nobody could ever possibly see. It’s too dark. No streetlights. No houses for a clear half-mile in every direction.

Just us, and the silence, and the darkness.

And the snowflakes, steady as they fall, through that yellow beam below.

You could never count them all. One blink and you’d miss some. One sharp stab of pain that drives your face into the mattress, and you’d miss plenty.

And that’s the point, I suppose. You keep counting. You watch the snow fall, and you count every snowflake your eyes can catch until it’s finally over.

* * *

The darkness wasn’t always there. I was bright and shiny once. There was no tarnish at my edges, no very bad thing that existed inside me. I had a mother, and a boyfriend, and a life. I was loved. I had plans and goals and aspirations.

One moment and they were all gone.

I know what you’ll think after you hear my story.
You’ll think I went mad when I saw Leo being burned alive, or when I gazed down at my comatose mother in the hospital after, as words like brain swelling and head-on collision drifted through the air, meant for me but headed somewhere beyond.

Or maybe, maybe, you’ll think it was during that first time, on the kitchen floor, a tangle of limbs, palm pressed against desperate lips, fingers squeezing wrists until it felt like they would snap.

And every time I’ll tell you, you are wrong. That, even as I cried in the aftermath of his sudden interest in me, I still was a girl without a black coal heart.

I can tell you the exact moment the darkness burrowed in to stay. I imagine it like some filthy worm, coming up from the earth, chewing a neat circle in my skin and wriggling in. Finding that hollow space beneath my heart, in my ribcage, and curling up. Sated. Satisfied. Warm. I feel it sometimes when I’m frightened, and my heart won’t slow down. It beats like crazy like a machine gun with the trigger locked on. I can’t breathe. My vision tunnels. In those moments, I imagine the worm, how happy it must be, how comfortable within my fragile chest.

It’s strange how you know something has happened, even if you can’t remember it.
When you wake up in your bed, and the sheets beneath you are wet, and you haven’t wet the bed since you were little, a three-year-old girl who started to cry because she’d slept through instead of getting up and going to the bathroom.
Eighteen years old, naked, and laying in a cold, wet spot, damp thighs and a bitter taste on your tongue. The taste of a medication you took once after your dad died and you started having nightmares that kept you awake. The bitter pill that your mother crushed into a glass of milk for you, the one that knocked you under and held you there in a chokehold, so that you could still see the nightmares in your sleep, but could no longer wake up from them. It was terrifying then, and it’s terrifying now. It’s in your mouth and in your nostrils and down the back of your throat and all you can remember is a low voice that says, Finish your milk, Cassandra.

You have been drugged.
Somebody has undressed you, tucked you into your bed, and they have used you. They have left something inside you.
A darkness. A coiled, buzzing midnight that becomes all you’ve ever known.
You don’t like it at first. It frightens you.
The darkness is where nightmares come to life.
But after time goes by, you start to feel differently.

You begin to realize that the darkness you’ve been given is not a burden, but a gift.



Lili writes dark, delicious romance full of love, lust and revenge. Her USA Today Bestselling Gypsy Brothers series focuses on a morally bankrupt biker gang and the young woman who seeks her vengeance upon them. The Cartel series is a trilogy that explores the beginnings of the club, published through HarperCollins.

Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, excellent coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Instagram.

She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.

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