Tuesday, September 30, 2014

The Sinner'sBargain by Claire Contreras Release Day Blitz


We're celebrating the release of The Sinner's Bargain by Claire Contreras! We have an excerpt and some teasers to entice you, so be sure to let us know what you think!


Title: THE SINNER'S BARGAIN
Author: Claire Contreras
Age group: Adult
Genre: Dark Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Najla Qamber
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Being pulled in different directions, Amara must choose what she wants to believe and whom she'll trust.

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“Holy shit,” she breathed when she looked at the four women standing in front of her. Courtney wasn’t kidding when she’d said Philip collected lookalikes. All of them looked like Amara. Not identical, but enough that a person who didn’t know her could confuse them or think they were sisters. They all had dark, straight hair that reached their elbows, a couple had layers like hers, and the others were cut the same length. Their bodies were all thin like Amara, although with slight variation in the hip area. 
“You must be Amara,” one of them said, speaking up.
“I am,” she said, uneasily. “Isn’t it against code to use real names?”
The girl laughed. “What am I supposed to call you? Jasmine?”
“Yes,” she responded slowly.
“Okay, Jasmine, I’m Jasmine.”
Amara’s brows furrowed. “For real?”
“All of our Méchant names are Jasmine for the night.”
“What?”
The girl shrugged. “That’s what they told us. We’re all wearing the same thing; we’re all standing the same way, and using the same make-up.”
“But how will… Okay,” Amara said, blinking rapidly. She reminded herself she had this one last thing to do before she was free.
They all dressed in threads of fabric, artfully shredded, tiny black shirts that left little to the imagination and similar skirts, barely covering the panties beneath. Before long, Vivienne appeared at the door, much to Amara’s surprise.
“It’s been a long time,” Vivienne said with a smile when she spotted Amara.
Amara nodded in response, still gaping at her.  She noticed  pairs of handcuffs that Vivienne held in her hands.
“Okay, girls, stand in a single line so I can put these on you. Don’t look so scared, Ava, they come off after the auction,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m also going to put masks on you,” she added. “Just a final touch so you can look more…alike.”
As Vivienne fastened the handcuffs on each girl, she put a key on the side of their panties and gave them a level stare. “For after.” She continued to give her unwanted comments as she stood in front of each girl. Sometimes, “where did they find you?” others “your hips are too big.” Nobody responded to her ”they just let her talk, cuff and slip the black, demure masks over their faces.
“Ready,” she chimed before walking out of the room. “Follow me!” she called over her shoulder.
The women followed Vivienne to a stage where they lined up in a row  beside one another, their shaky arms rubbing against the other’s as they looked into the crowd. A few scattered women accompanied some of the men. They watched with equal attention and excitement. The look on their faces sickened Amara.
“This is crazy,” she heard Ava whisper beside her.
“It’ll be over soon,” Amara whispered back.
Her eyes scanned the crowd again.  The lighting in the room was dim, like everywhere else, and it gave everyone in the crowd a rosy glow. Amara wondered where the man was—the one looking for her—and that’s when she spotted Colin sitting off to the left side, by himself with a drink in his hand.  Shit. Amara cursed repeatedly. She tried to see if she could spot Sam or Philip, but couldn’t. She needed to tell somebody about him. If he decided to bid on her, if he could even bid on the right her, it would throw everything off.
Before she could do anything else, the auction started. Ava was pushed up first. She stood in front of the line with her head tucked into her chest, just waiting, as Vivienne introduced her as “Number One.” So they would do it by numbers. Nothing more was said about Ava, before a woman stood up and placed her bid of five thousand dollars, only to be countered by the woman at her same table with a bid of twelve thousand. They both laughed, as if it was such a hilarious thing to be bidding on this poor girl’s body. They gave each other a knowing look, which made Amara’s stomach turn. Ava knew what she was in for, though. The girls in Méchant were prepared to give their bodies away without hesitation.
Three more numbers went by before it was Amara’s turn: Number Five. She stood, with head held down as the others had, until she heard Colin’s opening bid of fourteen thousand dollars. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. She wanted to warn him to stop. A man standing off to the other side of the room countered him. Twenty thousand. Colin raised it to thirty. Her hands sweated, shaking so hard she was forced to clamp them together in front of her body as her eyes searched the room for Philip, Vivienne…anybody who could help. The man raised his bid to forty and Colin countered with fifty. Amara waited on bated breath and sighed in relief when the man didn’t counter the offer. She should have been nervous knowing Philip would be furious if that was the guy they’d been waiting for, but a part of her was relieved. Vivienne said that standard procedure was for them to check who the winning bidders were before they left with the girls —that’s how they would know if the man was there. Maybe if he bid on one of the others and was caught, Amara wouldn’t have to do much more.  
The longer she counted the numerous ways this could go, the more tied up she felt. The cuffs around her hands began to be weighty, and the mask on her face felt like it was suffocating her. Amara had to squash  an overpowering need  to get out, to run and never look back.

Auction over, each girl stepped off the stage and stood beside their winner,  eyes still downcast, Amara included, until Colin squeezed her chin and tilted her face toward him. He glared at her, but she was defeated.  She met his gaze openly, brokenly, until he finally dropped his hand.








If you haven't read the beginning of Colin and Amara's story, grab The Devil's Contract now!

Title: THE DEVIL'S CONTRACT
Author: Claire Contreras
Age group: Adult
Genre: Dark Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Najla Qamber
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Claire Contreras graduated with her BA in Psychology from Florida International University. She was born in the Dominican Republic and raised in Miami, Fl, where she currently resides with her husband, two boys, and two American Bulldogs. 

Life is short, and it’s more bitter than sweet, so she tries to smile as often as her face allows. She enjoys stories with happy endings, because life is full of way too many unhappy ones.

Working Gril by A.E. Woodward Blog Tour

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Tour: Working Girl by A. E. Woodward
 Working Girl by A. E. Woodward  
Publication Date: September 22, 2014   
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Life As I Know It: Booze Drugs Gambling Easy Women Such was my life in fabulous Las Vegas. But what do you expect when you’re the daughter of a prostitute. This is not the life I want for myself, and I have a plan. Life As I Want It: Go to college. Get my degree. Get as far from Vegas as possible. But life has other plans. Plans that include him. Life isn’t always sunshine and roses and even the best laid plans change. This is my story. The story of a girl who thought she had it all figured out until life threw her a curve ball. My name is Presley and I refuse to be just another Working Girl.




This was my first A.E. Woodward book and I must say that I will definitely be reading more of her work.  Writing a review for Working Girl is going to be hard. I want to tell you everything that happened but won’t because I don’t want to spoil it for you.

Be prepared to go on a roller coaster ride of emotion. Working Girl is Presley’s story. Her mother is a prostitute and as spent most of her life growing up in the brothel with her friend Chrissy. It’s not the life she wants for herself and has a plan to get out of the brothel, out of Las Vegas, and onto better things. As with all plans, they never really go the way they are supposed to. She is thrown several curve balls that take her plans in a different course, and that includes Emerson. 

Presley never really believed in love and wanted to avoid it at all costs. Emerson is drawn to Presley and will do anything he can to get to know her and become part of her life. Emerson is just so sweet. He cares about Presley and her happiness. 

There are several moments in this book that will make you sad and a few that will have you saying O.M.G. This book was something new. I love when I come across a book that’s different than what I’ve read and this hit the spot. I will say one thing that I had issue with was the whole prostitution/brothel in Las Vegas. The brothel is located in downtown Las Vegas. Prostitution is actually illegal in Clark County Nevada, where Las Vegas is. Other than I really enjoyed this book and couldn’t stop thinking about Presley and Emerson after I finished.  




6966715 A.E. lives in Vacationland with her husband and two children. Between her real job and writing she finds little time to enjoy life's finer things. However in the free time she does manage to steal, she enjoys spending time with friends and family, and reading. A.E. is the author of Kismet and A Series of Imperfections: Imperfectly Perfect, Imperfectly Real, and Imperfectly Bad. Working Girl is her fifth book.










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Release Day Launch: All Things Pretty by M. Leighton

 

We are so stoked to bring you the Release Day Launch for M. Leighton's ALL THINGS PRETTY! ALL THINGS PRETTY is a Contemporary Adult Romance and the third novel in M. Leighton’s Pretty Series. Sig's book is here!

Pretending to be something they’re not, afraid to trust anyone completely, destined to tear each other apart– this is the story of unlikely love and unbearable consequences. Sig Locke is a cop. He was raised by a cop and all his brothers are cops. He bleeds blue, believes in right and wrong, and sees in black and white, never in shades of gray. But that was before he met Tommi. Tommi, with her long legs and bright green eyes, she captured Sig’s interest from the moment he saw her. Even after he discovered who she was–the girlfriend of a drug dealer, the beauty behind a criminal–he still found her utterly irresistible. What Sig doesn’t know, however, is that she has a secret even a cop can’t uncover. Tommi Lawrence hasn’t had an easy life, and it only got more complicated the day she met Sig. She learned long ago that she can’t trust anyone. Her gut tells her that Sig is no exception, her heart tells her that he is. But that was before she found out his real identity. Can love be forged in a fire of lies? Or will the truth destroy them both? 

Amazon ** Barnes & Noble ** iBooks ** Kobo

Her lips are still curved when she turns her attention back to me. Something about the moment hits me like a punch to the gut. I think for a second that I could stand here and stare at her, just enjoy her smile and her happiness for hours. Days, maybe. But I can’t. We can’t. So, instead, I brush a clump of mud from the end of her nose. “Have fun?” “I did. Thank you. This was so good for him.” “And you.” “And me,” she concedes. “You can be the real you around me anytime. I won’t tell a soul.” “So you prefer this?” “Oh, hell yeah! I don’t need glamorous. Or proper.” “I’m not proper.” “You forget that I heard your…expressiveness that day on the side of the road. And it didn’t consist of ‘darn’ or ‘golly gee’. But I haven’t heard anything like that come out of your mouth since then.” “Ladies aren’t supposed to talk that way, according to Lance.” “I don’t want a lady. I want a woman. One who knows her own mind. One who wears what she’s comfortable in, one who says what she’s thinking.” I take a step closer. I can’t help myself. Her scent draws me in. Even covered in mud, she smells like sexy sunshine. “I want the woman who kisses like she’s on fire and makes me feel like I’m the only one who can put her out.” “Sig,” she begins. I break in to cut her off. I know her objections. And I know how much I don’t want to hear them. “I’m just being honest. I’m not even touching you.” Her eyes are glued to mine, a damn near irresistible gravity pulling us together. “It’s not like you can anyway. I mean, we’re in public. With my little brother. What could you possibly touch?” I reach down and smear my hand in mud. With her eyes locked on mine, I reach between us and flatten my palm on her chest, right over her heart. “This. I’d touch this.”



 
Author Photo New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, M. Leighton, is a native of Ohio. She relocated to the warmer climates of the South, where she can be near the water all summer and miss the snow all winter. Possessed of an overactive imagination from early in her childhood, M. Leighton finally found an acceptable outlet for her fantastical visions: literary fiction. Having written over a dozen novels, these days M. Leighton enjoys letting her mind wander to more romantic settings with sexy Southern guys, much like the one she married and the ones you'll find in her latest books. When her thoughts aren't roaming in that direction, she'll be riding horses, swimming in ponds and experiencing life on a ranch, all without leaving the cozy comfort of her office.

A note from M. Leighton: I love coffee and chocolate, even more so when they are combined. I'm convinced that one day they could be the basis for world peace. I also love the color red and am seriously considering dying my hair.

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Monday, September 29, 2014

Review: Torture to Her Soul by J,M. Darhower





Don't say it unless you mean it…

It's a simple concept, one I've said time and again, but something people don't seem to comprehend. You should choose every syllable carefully, because you never know when somebody will hold you to your word.

Somebody like me.

I'm not a good man. I'm not. I know. I have enough darkness inside of me to rid the world of every stitch of light. But there's one I could never harm, one light I couldn't bring myself to snuff out.

Karissa.

She thinks I'm a monster, and maybe I am. I taunt her with my touch, get a thrill out of torturing her soul. But I'm not the only one. The world is full of monsters, and I'm not the most dangerous one out there.

Not even close…

God help me, I love her.

I do.

And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.

"Guess it's true what they say."
            The sound of Karissa's voice draws my attention. Turning around, I see her standing at the bottom of the steps, eyes trained past me at the front door. Early morning sunshine bathes the area around it in a soft orange glow, making the brand new locks lining the door shine brightly. I spent all night fortifying the house, doing everything in my power to make the place secure.
            "And what, exactly, do they say?"
            Karissa's eyes shift from the door to meet mine. Her hair is a mess, her pajamas disheveled. She clearly just woke up from sleeping hard, lost in tranquility, while I spent the past few hours drowning in paranoia. Every time the house creaked, I damn near clawed my way out of my own skin.
            "History repeats itself," she says, "first as a tragedy, second as a farce."
            Karl Marx. I recognize the quote.
            Daniel Santino must've taught it to her.
            Huh.
            I wave toward the front door. "Something about this is funny to you?"
            "Not really funny," she says, slowly stepping closer. "It's sort of curious, though, that I spent my entire life trapped behind locked doors and here it is, happening to me again. I always knew something was going on when my mother started buying extra locks and nailing down windows. It's just a bit of déjà vu seeing you doing the same thing."
            Hesitating, I reach into my pocket and fish out a set of keys. I toss them to her without warning, and they hit the wooden floor by her feet with a clang. Bending down, she picks them up, eyeing me curiously.
            "You're not trapped here, Karissa."
            Her fist closes around the keys, her gaze burning through me as she arches an eyebrow, silent for a moment before asking, "Aren't I?"
            "No, you're not," I say. "You can leave the house whenever you want."
            "Can I?"
            "Of course," I say. "Doesn't mean I won't follow you, though."



I have been waiting for this book since the spring. Torture to Her Soul is the sequel to Monster in His Eyes. I absolutely LOVED Naz and Karissa in the first book but JM Darhower left us hanging. The ending to Naz and Karissa’s story did not disappoint.

Karissa hates Naz. But there is a very fine line between love and hate. That line is walked very carefully for the majority of this book.

“Every now and then she’ll forget she’s supposed to despise me, she’ll forget she’s not allowed to want me.
            She’ll forget I’m a monster.”

I have to say that I was holding my breath the entire story. Was he going to hurt her? Was she going to turn him in? Who was going to die? Who was going to live? All these questions plagued me the entire book. And I won’t answer a single one of them for you!

JM Darhower always delivers the full picture for the reader to see. Every detail is written. It is a full package. Sometimes this fact is complete torture. I just wanted to get the last twenty percent where I knew she was going to answer it all for us. But doing that would have ruined the journey. This author really does take us on a ride of these character’s lives. The book is told in Naz’s POV but I could always feel Karissa’s emotions and reactions as well as his.

I highly recommend this series! It will be in my top ten list for 2014! 





Ignazio Vitale is not a good man.

I suspect it, the first time I see him, sense the air of danger that surrounds the man. He has a way of commanding attention, of taking control, of knowing what I'm thinking before I even do.

It's alarming and alluring. It's dark and deadly. It's everything I've ever wanted but the last thing I truly need. Obsession.

It doesn't take him long to draw me into his web, charming me into his bed and trapping me in his life, a life I know nothing about until it's too late. He has secrets, secrets I can't fathom, secrets that make it so I can't walk away, no matter how much I beg him to let me go. I see it sometimes in his eyes, a darkness that's both terrifying and thrilling. He's a monster, wrapped up in a pretty package, and what I find when I unmask him changes everything.

I want to hate him.

Sometimes, I do.

But it doesn't stop me from loving him, too.






J.M. Darhower is the USA Today bestselling author of books about the hottest hit men and the women who find some hope in them. She lives in a tiny town in rural North Carolina, where she churns out more words than will ever see the light of day. She has a deep passion for politics and speaking out against human trafficking, and when she isn't writing (or fangirling) she's usually ranting about those things. Chronic crimper with a vulgar mouth, she admits to having a Twitter addiction. You can usually always find her there.