Release Blitz: #1 Crush by T. Gephart

Title: #1 Crush

Series: #1 Series #1

Author: T. Gephart

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: February 20, 2017

Tia Monroe was smart, sassy and successful. Sure, she could get a little crazy at times—life around Tia was never boring—but that was part of her appeal. And while she didn’t see herself as ‘classically beautiful’, she had no shortage of options in the boyfriend department. She just hadn’t found one who held her interest.

Until she laid eyes on Eric Larsson, and then it was lust at first sight.

He packed the perfect mix of smoldering sexy and unapologetic cool into his blond-haired, blue-eyed, ridiculously hot six-foot-four frame. One smile from him was enough to twist her insides, making her girlie bits tingle in the most delicious way. But it wasn’t just his looks, he was smart and funny—charming in the most a-dork-able way.

The only problem was . . . Tia had never actually met him.

Eric Larsson was one of Hollywood’s hottest movie stars, rising to the top of his game and leaving a trail of disintegrated panties in his wake. Tia’s were no exception—but she wasn’t delusional. Love, marriage and happily-ever-after were not part of her fantasy; she just wanted to meet him. Just one time. One time. Confident that just seeing him in the flesh would get him out of her system.

So, with her resolve steeled, Tia set off on a quest to make it happen while avoiding her mug shot being splayed across the five o’clock news.

The journey no doubt will make for one hell of a story. 

ADD TO GOODREADS

#1 Crush is a fun story. It is light-hearted with great characters, dialogue, and funny situations. This is a perfect story when you are looking to get lost in a story and laugh out loud.

I loved Tia from the get-go. Honestly, who hasn't had a huge crush on a celebrity? Of course, this book takes that crush to the extreme, but that what make it so fun! Tia is convinced that the only way to get over her crush to mega movie star Eric Larrson is to meet him in person and witness him being a big jerk. In order to do that, she swindles an invite to his movie premier. Her plan goes awry when he isn't the jerk she needs him to be.

I absolutely fell in love with Eric. Even though he is this huge movie star, he is a down to earth character. Don't get me wrong, he is a cocky guy. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. Tia thinks that her one night of meeting Eric is over until she gets an unexpected (because she never gave him her number) phone call from him. The two hang out and get to know each other (in many ways).

Throughout the story, Tia is harboring a secret from Eric. I got so frustrated with her several times when she just dug her hole bigger. I just wanted her to fess up! However much frustration I felt, it didn't deter how much fun I had reading this book.

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

PAPERBACK 

“Oh my God.” The words wheezed out of me as all the oxygen escaped from my lungs. My chest tightened like I’d been kicked right in between my ribs.

There he was a few feet behind me slowly making his way toward me.

“Eric, look here.”

“Eric, this way.”

Both sides of the line screamed at him as he patiently walked from side to side, signing autographs and taking selfies. Each step he took inching him closer to where I had frozen, my eyes bulging out of my head like a complete lunatic.

There he was.

Eric Larsson, right in front of me.

And not even internet stalking could have prepared me for what he looked like in real life.

Breathtaking.

So handsome he almost didn’t seem real, and as much as I tried I couldn’t stop staring.

Say something my mouth begged as my brain continued on its mental vacation. My eyes scanned every inch of his body like it was planning to build a 3-D replica.

Holy hell he was wearing the absolute fuck out of that suit. Every inch of the fabric curling around his delicious body like its life depended on it. And believe me, even though he was covered from head to toe in tailored Tom Ford perfection—I’d seen photos of him in this particular suit before—it did nothing to hide how obscenely hot he was.

My heart thumped loudly as he took another step closer, his eyes remaining on the crowd.

“Larsson.”

It rang out clear despite the noise around us. It took me a minute to realize that while my brain had stalled, my mouth hadn’t suffered the same fate. My lips still open as his name left them.

Who the hell yells out his last name? I panicked, unable to tear my eyes from him as his head lifted and his eyes settled on me.

Dear. Lord. In. Heaven. And. All. The. Saints.

Eric Larsson was looking at me.

At me.

At ME!

His brow lifted in acknowledgement as his lips curled, momentarily blinding me as he flashed his trademark smile.

Well, if that wasn’t an invitation, I didn’t know what was.

So, even though I was struggling to breathe—my ability to remain upright also not guaranteed—my feet moved me closer toward him. My internal pep talk worked overtime as I reminded myself we were on a mission. Two minutes of eye contact, conversation . . . and something about me finding out what an asshole he was.

“Hi.” The best I could do given the circumstances.

Intellectually I knew the man was tall. I mean, in my head I figured I knew what six-foot-four looked like. But as I lifted my eyes, it didn’t come close to where I should be looking, my gaze hitting his chin before I tilted my head even higher.

“Hi,” he responded, the single word sent a shiver down my spine as he unleashed another blinding smile.

Those eyes were something else. The clearest blue I had ever seen, and though I knew it wasn’t possible it seemed like they illuminated from the inside out. Like magical orbs, the weight of their stare hypnotized me, pulling me in closer like a force field. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d tried. Not that I tried, and not that I wanted to.

And oh Lord have mercy, did he smell good. Mouthwatering. Ridiculous that it would even get a mention given I already had those eyes, his face and his delectable couture-wrapped body to contend with. Yet there was his scent wafting up my nose uninvited. A sadistic mix of sexy, clean and masculine—probably Calvin Klein—overwhelmed me as I fought the urge to bury my head in his neck and inhale him like a line of cocaine.

Say something you dumbass. My mouth begged as my hand, completely of its own accord, reached out and rested on his arm.

Holy. Freaking. Shit. I. Was. Touching. Him.

Do not moan, I reminded myself.

“Congratulations on the movie.” Words poured out of my mouth, thankfully in a sequence that made sense, as my fingers struggled not to caress the fabric of his suit. My fingers didn’t listen, slowly stroking in small—slightly inappropriate and rather suggestive—circles.

Wow, this is a really, really nice suit.

Do not lick it.

T Gephart is an indie author from Melbourne, Australia.

T's approach to life has been somewhat unconventional. Rather than going to University, she jumped on a plane to Los Angeles, USA in search of adventure. While this first trip left her somewhat underwhelmed and largely depleted of funds it fueled her appetite for travel and life experience.

With a rather eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history, T struggled to find her niche in the world.

While on a subsequent trip the United States in 1999, T met and married her husband. Their whirlwind courtship and interesting impromptu convenience store wedding set the tone for their life together, which is anything but ordinary. They have lived in Louisiana, Guam and Australia and have traveled extensively throughout the US. T has two beautiful young children and one four legged child, Woodley, the wonder dog.

An avid reader, T became increasingly frustrated by the lack of strong female characters in the books she was reading. She wanted to read about a woman she could identify with, someone strong, independent and confident and who didn't lack femininity. Out of this need, she decided to pen her first book, A Twist of Fate. T set herself the challenge to write something that was interesting, compelling and yet easy enough to read that was still enjoyable. Pulling from her own past "colorful" experiences and the amazing personalities she has surrounded herself with, she had no shortage of inspiration. With a strong slant on erotic fiction, her core characters are empowered women who don't have to sacrifice their femininity. She enjoyed the process so much that when it was over she couldn't let it go.

T loves to travel, laugh and surround herself with colorful characters. This inevitably spills into her writing and makes for an interesting journey - she is well and truly enjoying the ride!

Based on her life experiences, T has plenty of material for her books and has a wealth of ideas to keep you all enthralled.

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Blog Tour: Hollow by Karlee Winters

Title: Hollow

Author: Karlee Winters

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: November 1, 2016

Things aren’t always what they seem…

To outsiders, Ashlynn Summers has it all: she’s the star of her own TV cooking show, respected by her community, and a devoted wife. Until she discovers something that shakes her rock-solid world. Now, all she wants is to focus on getting her life back on track. Volunteering at a homeless shelter renews her sense of purpose, but when she meets the insolent Luke Brault, Ashlynn can’t help but think there’s more to him than meets the eye. Although Luke keeps to himself, his daughter is his sole priority. Guilt surrounding his single father status has eaten away at him, leaving a gaping hole. He and Ashlynn become friends, yet Luke fears his past will destroy the bond they’ve created. When they discover their pasts are intertwined and unimaginable secrets are revealed, Ashlynn and Luke find themselves on shaky ground in the aftermath. Suddenly, building something solid on a hollow foundation seems impossible. Can they find a way to repair the damage of the past, or is it too heavy for them to bear?

Hollow is a great contemporary romance. It's sweet, but some tragedy thrown in. I loved the growth of the characters, Ashlynn and Luke. Ashlynn's perfect life seems to implode all at once. Not only does she lose her husband, but also the career that she worked so hard for. She loses all her so called friends, except for her friend and assistant, Kiki, who is always her voice of reason. Ashlynn is left with no choice but to pick herself up and move forward with her life. 

Luke's past is tragic. When he meets Ashlynn, he want nothing to do with her. He views her as a rich and entitled woman, something she most definitely is not. With a little persistence, Ashlynn breaks through Luke's stony exterior and becomes close to him and his daughter. The three form a seemingly unbreakable bond until secrets come out.

I really enjoyed Luke and Ashlynn's relationship. It started out slow and as friends. However, he didn't let her fully in, as he was afraid to tell her his secret. These are two characters that rise above their circumstances and come out stronger. 

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU

“The video’s gone viral.” I peered at my assistant, Kiki, from behind my coffee mug. Her dark brown eyes widened, darting nervously between me and her tablet as technicians, gaffers, and interns filtered in through the studio. “I thought you said yesterday it wasn’t that bad,” I whispered as I forced a smile and waved at Corrine, my make-up artist as she walked in. “I-I know, and it wasn’t. At first. But I checked again this morning and your video’s had eleven million views over the past twenty-four hours.” I sucked in a sharp breath. I was used to being in the public eye, having every little move I made scrutinized by strangers who felt entitled to judge me. Ever since the launch of my cooking show, From Ashes, where I showed viewers how to make gourmet meals out of scraps and leftovers, I’d learned that everyone is a critic and those critics are a lot braver behind a computer screen where their fingers do the talking. “Has Steve seen it yet?” She bit down on her bottom lip and worried it between her teeth. “I don’t know. His door’s been closed all morning.” As if on cue, Steve’s door swung open and he stepped out of his office, clapping his hands together. “All right, people, listen up! I’ve got stuff I need to get done, so let’s get this shoot going. Where’s my star of the show?” His eyes roamed around the room until he spotted me. “There she is!” He started moving toward me, but stopped mid-stride when he realized no one was moving because their eyes were glued to their phones. “I said move it, people! I’m not paying you to stand around.” Everyone immediately jumped into action, bustling around the studio to prepare for my segment. Steve approached me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Hey Ash, let’s grab lunch after we wrap this up, okay?” I nodded and smiled brightly at my boss, despite feeling like I was agreeing to walk into the lion’s den. It took three hours to film the thirty-minute segment, and by the time we finished, I was more than ready to leave. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I swore every time someone picked up their phone, they were watching me lose my shit on camera. I tried not to think about it. I tried to remain focused. I wanted to believe that it was all in my head. I’d worked with a majority of these people for the past three years; surely that meant they were my friends. But then I remembered I was in Los Angeles, a place where your friends are the ones to push you down a flight of stairs before asking if you need help up. “You all set?” Steve asked, clapping me on the back. “Yeah, let me just grab my purse.” We made our way outside the studio, passing by Sharla, one of the newest interns, on the way. Steve winked at her and she blushed. I smiled politely, pretending to ignore the fact that my forty-two- year-old boss was watching her nineteen-year-old ass walk away. “Damn,” he mumbled as he pulled out his car keys and unlocked the doors to his brand new Jag. “The things I could do to that ass.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” “Probably best. That way you have plausible deniability for my next sexual harassment complaint.” “I don’t know which is worse, the fact that you’re expecting another complaint, or that even knowing what will happen, you still plan to make a move on her. I’m surprised you even still have a job at this point.” We slid into the car and bucked our seatbelts. Steve pulled down his sun visor and smiled at his reflection before pulling out of the parking lot. “They’re not going to fire me. I’m the best producer this network’s seen. Besides, Karen and I have a deal. She keeps the execs off my back, and in exchange, I dust off the cobwebs from her pussy a couple times a year. She may not be as young as I’d like, but the things she can do with that mouth—” “Oh, God, stop,” I groaned, shaking my head. “Let’s just end this conversation before it goes any further. You’re my boss and producer.” “For a TV show. There’s plenty of sex on TV.” “Yes, but I talk about cooking. The only thing that ends up naked is the chicken.” He laughed and merged onto the freeway which was congested with cars. The sky was painted a dusty orange color as thin beams of sunlight attempted to pierce through the smog. Giant billboards loomed off to the side, reminding drivers that physical perfection is just a scalpel and a phone call away, and right beside it was a board with the number to call for when you need to sue because perfection didn’t turn out like you thought it would. We arrived at my favorite lunch spot, a small Korean BBQ place hidden in the back of a nearly deserted strip-mall. The hostess showed us to a table in the corner and turned the grill on that sat in the center of the table. A few minutes later, our server brought out a tray full of side dishes for us to try alongside slabs of raw meat. “Ashlynn.” He grabbed a slice of beef and placed it on the grill, using his chopstick to poke at it until it laid flat. “So, the reason I asked you to lunch is because I actually have to talk to you about something.” I didn’t say anything, already knowing what the “something” was. “Look, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the network execs saw the video,” he continued. “And now they’re worried about your mental state.” “My mental state is fine.” “They’re not convinced. They’re worried that your outburst was just the tip of the iceberg.” I sighed and rolled a piece of meat with some lettuce. “Steve, you know me. You know I’m not crazy.” “Yes, but I can’t deny that what I saw was a bit troublesome.” “I’m not crazy,” I repeated. “You were running around the hotel lobby, holding a butcher’s knife, threatening to carve his heart out and feed it to the homeless.” “Yeah, I was pissed. I’m still pissed. When you go out to dinner and find your husband of six years having an affair with your best friend, you’re gonna be pissed.” Two days before, I’d agreed to meet my friend Staci for dinner at a new hotspot in Santa Monica because the chef and I had gone to culinary school together. We decided to grab ice cream before parting ways, and that’s when I saw it. Right across the street was my husband, Ben, with his tongue shoved down the throat of my best friend. Their hands sloppily grabbed and groped each other, as if they were sixteen-year-old kids, desperate to finish their make-out session before curfew. He was supposed to be working late at the office. He was supposed to be loyal. He was supposed to be mine. It was a strange sensation feeling betrayal that deep. I’d always imagined that all my emotions would hit at once, sweeping over me like a tidal wave. But it didn’t happen like that. Rather, it started at my feet, as if that’s the only place where shock couldn’t get to quickly enough to numb them. Tiny little pin pricks of agitation, crawling along the nerves, slowly coiling up my ankles, along my calves, wrapping around my knees until they buckled. By then, the shock was beginning to thin, and a solid mass of pain snaked through my intestines, squeezing my stomach with a vice-like grip until I was sure I was going to pass out. The pain curdled as it seeped through my ribs, poisoning my heart until it was black, transforming from pain into something much viler: fury. Anger took my brain hostage, twisting every thought until I was no longer in control of myself. I was simply a marionette, and resentment held the strings. How dare he. How dare she. I stared at my left hand, the gaudy two-carat emerald-cut diamond glinting beneath the bright florescent lights. Mocking me. Taunting me. Ridiculing me until all I wanted to do was rip it off my finger and use it to serrate his heart the way he’d eviscerated mine. I watched them on the sidewalk for a couple minutes, before they greeted the doorman like an old friend and stepped through the revolving doors of the Larkspur Hotel - a place he’d once told me was too cheesy for someone like me when I’d asked to spend our anniversary there. I realized then that he hadn’t wanted to take me there because it was theirs. He didn’t want to tarnish the memories of his affair with those of his wife. “He says they’re in love,” I scoffed, taking an angry bite of my food. “Sixteen months, that’s how long this has been going on behind my back, and now he wants a divorce so he can be with her.” “I’m really sorry, Ash,” Steve said placing his hand over mine. “I know how much they meant to you.” “Hilary was my maid-of-honor at our wedding. I’ve known her since we were twelve. I was in the Burger King bathroom with her when she got her first period, and I spent an entire weekend watching The Notebook after Ken Carlson dumped her right after she gave him her virginity. We were supposed to get pregnant together and raise our families next door to each other so that our kids could be best friends…We…” My voice cracked and I stopped to let out a shaky breath. Not wanting to risk another viral video, I cleared my throat and took a sip of water. “Sorry.” “Look, I know you’re going through a rough time, so maybe it’s a good thing that the network wants you to take some time off.” My eyes cut to his and my whole body stiffened. “I’m sorry?” His shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. “The network execs think maybe you need to take some time off the show. You know, just until things settle down.” “Some time…” I said slowly, letting the bitter taste of each syllable slide off my tongue. “And how long exactly is some time?” “I’m not sure. They didn’t specify.” “Are you fucking kidding me with this Steve?” “I’m afraid not. They’re worried about the bad press.” “Isn’t that why we have a public relations specialist? Besides, I thought all press was good press.” “Pretty sure that only works if you’re a washed-up movie star looking for attention. Your show is about bringing families together with food. How do you expect us to keep airing it after this?” He plucked his phone from his pocket and typed something in before turning it towards me. Images of me standing in the hotel lobby, wielding a large butcher’s knife in my hand popped up. My mocha colored hair was no longer hanging neatly in loose waves, but rather, flying recklessly around my face as my lips pulled back in a snarl. My usually pale green eyes looked wild. Unhinged. Destroyed. “You can see why the execs are a bit worried,” he continued as he scrolled through various photos. “Okay, I get it, you can put it away now,” I replied, waving him off. “Isn’t there something you can do? Talk to Karen. Surely you can think of a way to get her to agree to keep me on…” “Ash—” “Please,” I begged. “This show is everything to me. I just lost my husband and my best friend, and because we didn’t have a prenup, I’ll probably lose half of everything else I own. Don’t take my show away from me, too.” He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Okay. Just sit tight and lay low. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Karlee Winters is a romance writer living beneath the hot Arizona sun with her husband and their cat, Kaylie. She devotes her days to working, and her nights writing, allowing the characters in her head to come to life. When not working or writing, she can be found reading, binge-watching Netflix, or playing video games. A romantic at heart, she has a love for stories, and all things ending in happily ever after. Karlee loves to meet new people. Stop by and say hello!

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Release Blitz: Hollow by Karlee Winters

Title: Hollow

Author: Karlee Winters

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: November 1, 2016

Things aren’t always what they seem…

To outsiders, Ashlynn Summers has it all: she’s the star of her own TV cooking show, respected by her community, and a devoted wife. Until she discovers something that shakes her rock-solid world. Now, all she wants is to focus on getting her life back on track. Volunteering at a homeless shelter renews her sense of purpose, but when she meets the insolent Luke Brault, Ashlynn can’t help but think there’s more to him than meets the eye. Although Luke keeps to himself, his daughter is his sole priority. Guilt surrounding his single father status has eaten away at him, leaving a gaping hole. He and Ashlynn become friends, yet Luke fears his past will destroy the bond they’ve created. When they discover their pasts are intertwined and unimaginable secrets are revealed, Ashlynn and Luke find themselves on shaky ground in the aftermath. Suddenly, building something solid on a hollow foundation seems impossible. Can they find a way to repair the damage of the past, or is it too heavy for them to bear?

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU

Despite having lived in my new duplex for over two weeks, I still had yet to unpack most of my things, or get my own furniture. A couple nights before, in an attempt to tire myself out, I had picked three boxes to unpack. One of the boxes was filled with photographs, and the other two contained various vestiges from my life when my family was whole: porcelain figurines Mama had picked out on our various trips to Disneyland, doo-wop and standards recorded on vinyl, and assorted signage and décor from my parent’s restaurant. I’d also found a couple Barbie dolls still in their boxes from when I was younger. I had never hopped on the Barbie doll train, but I knew a certain five-year-old who might have, so I had put the records and the Barbies in a bag and placed them in my office, intending on giving them to Luke the next time I saw him. I thought they might like them. What I didn’t expect was the hostile look he was giving me. He took three quick strides toward me. “Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Duchess. Lily and I are not some charity case. We don’t need you donating your unwanted things because you feel sorry for us.” He shoved the bag into my arms. “You think I’m giving these to you because I feel sorry for you?” “Yeah, and we don’t need your pity.” I threw the bag down on the desk. “You know what, Luke? You’re a real asshole sometimes.” “Just calling a spade a spade.” “Well, I’m just calling an asshole an asshole.” We stared at each other with our faces just inches apart and I swallowed hard. His chest heaved and when his eyes dipped to my mouth, I wet my lips with my tongue, suddenly feeling like I’d been chewing on sandpaper. His arms were braced along the edge of the desk, caging me in, and I could smell the sweet hint of mint on his breath. “I don’t want your things. There’s a reason I live the way I do, so just leave it the fuck alone.” He turned to leave, but I reached out, my fingers touching his forearm, begging him to wait. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I was just trying to be nice. I just wanted to do something nice for you and Lily.” His head was bowed and his back remained turned toward me, but I knew my words had dented his armor, even if for only a moment. “Why?” “What do you mean why?” He whirled around and pinned me with a glare. “I mean, why bother? Since I’ve met you, I’ve given you no indication that I want to be your friend or get to know you better, and yet, you keep trying.” He took a step toward me. “Why?” The air was thick with tension and I could feel it like static, rousing every cell in my body. His deep grey irises seared through my soul as he searched my face for an answer. “Because,” I said quietly, “I know what it’s like. I know how grief can consume you until there’s nothing left. I know what it feels like to push everyone away because it’s easier than allowing people in and risking losing them, too, but I was lucky in that I had people who stuck by me even when I was a complete nightmare to be around. They pushed me to talk to them, even when I had nothing to say.” I paused, my heart thrashing violently in my chest. “But you? From what I can tell, Luke, you don’t have that, and that’s a damn shame because as much as you try to only show people what you want to show them, I see past that. I see the man you really are when you hold your little girl in your arms. I see the kindness buried deep in your heart. You didn’t have to offer to help me with Mama, but you did. So yeah, I keep trying, and that’s not going to change because you may not feel like you’re worth it, but I—” He cut me off with a kiss. His right hand reached out and wrapped around my waist, jerking me toward him until I was pressed hard against his body. His mouth came down on mine with such intensity, I could feel every ounce of pain, grief, and desire he’d kept locked tight within him. A low rumble in his throat urged my lips open and when his tongue swept along my bottom lip, a soft moan escaped me. I placed one hand to the back of his neck, pressing myself into him, needing to be closer. He gripped me tighter as the heat of our kiss deepened, making me dizzy with need. In that moment, I could feel him opening his heart to me. His left hand moved to my cheek and he used his thumb to tilt my head back. He controlled the moment. He controlled every movement. He was the puppeteer and I was his marionette, bending and twisting to his will. And I let him. Maybe it was because he had spent so much time feeling out of control and he needed just one second where he didn’t feel so lost. Maybe I let him because for a brief instant in time I remembered what desire felt like. Maybe this was what we both needed, two broken people yearning for a respite from our pain and finding it in each other. He alternated between letting his tongue tease me with long languid strokes and nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth, sending a heady ripple of lust all the way through my core. My hands slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, touching the hard ridges of his stomach. His eyes shot open and he tore himself away from me. Our chests heaved synchronously to the beat of our wounded hearts, and his eyes were filled with fear. “Ashlynn,” he said quietly. “Yes,” I responded, already knowing what he was about to say. “I’m sorry. This was a terrible mistake.” He ran his hand over his jaw and walked out the door, leaving me with nothing but the sweet taste of him on my lips.

Karlee Winters is a romance writer living beneath the hot Arizona sun with her husband and their cat, Kaylie. She devotes her days to working, and her nights writing, allowing the characters in her head to come to life. When not working or writing, she can be found reading, binge-watching Netflix, or playing video games. A romantic at heart, she has a love for stories, and all things ending in happily ever after. Karlee loves to meet new people. Stop by and say hello!

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Prologue Reveal: Somewhere to Begin by Mika Jolie

Title: Somewhere To Begin

Author: Mika Jolie

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: September 20, 2016

Synopsis

There are wounds that never show on the body.

For twenty-nine years, Colbie Bennington does as expected with an eternal smile stained on her lips. The biggest chances she’s ever taken can be counted on one hand, three fingers to be exact—her battered red chucks, painting her toenails a vibrant blue, and her wedding dress. Always the dutiful daughter and a Stepford fiancée, she has never acted on impulse, never been in love. She’s never lived. On her wedding day, Colbie ends a toxic relationship, drops the fake smile, and says, “I can’t do this anymore.” Navy SEAL Zander Serrano returns home broken and burdened with a volcano of remorse. Too trapped in a mental war to be at peace and too damaged to be at war, he shuts the world out. The last thing he expects is to feel, especially for a runaway bride with her own baggage. Two empty hearts marred in different spots find themselves drawn to one another. Each with their own scars. Some, the world can see. Others, unseen to the naked eye. They say two broken people should not be together. But for Colbie and Zander, their attraction is undeniable, unexpected. Can two souls with fractured parts be the best cure for each other’s wounds? Starting over is never easy, but sometimes in life, everyone needs somewhere to begin.

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Prologue

“Somewhere there’s a war.”

~ Mika Jolie

Afghanistan, six months ago . . .

Zander’s body hit hard against the concrete. Bones cracked. Muscles snapped. Another massive blast shook the building, blowing everything up in its path. Walls screamed. Lights flickered. Tables jumped. Chunks of the ceiling caved in. A cacophony of sounds hit his ears like a tidal wave—the crunching of metal, the tinkling of glass shattering as the explosion blasted its way out of the complex, the sound of a shrill and deafening alarm warning of danger. “Evacuate. STAT. Bomb. Bomb.” The raucous blaring of the overhead radio jarred through his head. Black dust hung in the air, burning Zander’s throat and invading his lungs. They were ambushed by enemy fire, facing a barrage of bullets from all directions. Every cell in his body reeled at the immediate assault. Too close. Much too close. Human instinct told him to counterattack. Ignoring the initial urge, he waited and gathered his wits. Years as a Navy SEAL taught him never to invest in the first option that crossed his mind. SEALs held back to see what else showed up. He spotted a shadow darting around the corner of an adobe wall, assault rifle in hand. Zander drew his semi-automatic pistol. With only a split second to decide, he squeezed the trigger and watched the body collapse. A deathly silence loomed. Choking on the lack of oxygen, he released a breath, rolled onto his chest, and scanned the room. Blood dripped from his forehead into his eyes, blurring his vision but not enough to obliterate the horror staring at him. His friends lay like rag dolls in the position of death—lifeless and dismembered, flesh and brains erupted in liquid halos, a plethora of shattered bones—arms outstretched, burning flesh, cracked skulls, brains blown out. Death tinged the air. He coughed and swiped his mouth. Through cracked lips, he spat a glob of blood mixed with saliva onto the floor, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Squinting, he inspected the room through the swirling dust for Ben. A few feet away, his best friend, wet with gore, slouched against a wall. His face was twisted in a grimace, his skin pale and clammy as molten-red fluid pumped from his stomach. “Help me.” The desperate plea sent chills down Zander’s back. Nausea rolled in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard, pushing back the vomit from his parched mouth. “I’ll get us out. Don’t move,” he cautioned when Ben motioned at the wound on his thigh. They were brothers—not cut from the same cloth, but they’d shed blood together. “I promise—” His words cut short by another deafening explosion. In the chaos, he analyzed the environment and assessed the risks. Two doors. Four windows. Enemies to the right and left. They were ambushed—a well-organized attack—leaving his band of brothers dead or critically injured. The chance of surviving was nil, but he’d die trying. Zander flicked his mind to autopilot mode—survival instinct—willing himself out of his surroundings. Becoming invisible was a powerful mental skill he’d mastered over the years when shit got real. He was trained to control the situation, to never react on emotion and to judge every move with logic. Bullets continued to plow through the room like metallic hail, chipping the pavement around him. Some passed so near to his face he could feel the air being cut in front of him. He snatched one of the fired rounds from the ground and rolled it between his soil-covered fingers. So light, so cold, a trinket designed to take the only thing that really mattered, life. He shook hands with death, acknowledged it, and whisked it away like a bunch of fruit flies caught in a heavy gust of wind. Time to kill or be killed. Relaxing his grip, the bullet slipped through his fingers. The empty casing hit the concrete, making a hollow clinking sound. Zander planted his hands on the floor and pushed himself up. A stifling sensation, as if shaving with a flamethrower, shot through his body. His legs wobbled. Gravity yanked him down. Winded, he dragged himself to a sitting position. Back pressed against the wall, he peered at his legs. Below his knee, blood turned his khakis a deep Tuscan red. Fuck. Quickly, he stripped off his jacket, tied it around his thigh, and scanned the area. Not a sound could be heard, either close at hand or in the far off distance. Even his own breath seemed to die as soon as it left his mouth. It was an eerie sort of tranquility as if the world was encased in a cocoon or a bubble, and there was no way out. So instead of being soothed, his senses heightened. He spotted an M4 carbine inches away. Stretching his arm, he grasped the handle and hauled it toward him. Gun in hand, he belly crawled along the floor, scraping his fingernails across the puddle of his own blood. Sweat and sanguine fluid poured in warm rivulets down his face. He went from body to body, patting down the corpses of James, Pete, and Scott for identification. Something. Anything to commemorate their existence. Nothing. Because SEALs often worked behind enemy lines, a dog tag or something that could give away their identity was considered a huge unnecessary risk. He knew it, but he’d hoped. Pushing back the thought he’d have to identify every one of them later—if he survived—Zander wormed his way from one side of the room to the other and sat next to Ben. His elbows burned from the effort. None of that mattered. “Put your arms around my shoulder.” Ben glanced at him. His blue eyes dazed, his skin pale as a ghost. Shit. Not Ben, too. Zander rose to his feet, his teeth cutting on his bottom lip. The injury down his thigh protested, and he staggered a little. Ignoring the fire blazing through him, he dragged Ben’s weight down the hall. Tiny lead pellets traveled at twice the speed of sound through what remained of his left leg, the pain intensifying with each dragging step, jarring and brutal. He winced as the pain burned without mercy, penetrating to the cells that should have been protected by smooth skin but most likely lay open and raw. He was a soldier. A SEAL. He trained for war, stood for justice, and fought to win. With all the strength he could muster, he pushed his weight up against the doorway, dragging his left leg along with him. After leaning Ben’s body against the wall, he palmed the door open and picked out the details of his target. A group of insurgents stood in a circle, plotting. They thought they’d won. Every movement became robotic, more machine than man. The rush of combat spiked his psyche with crazy excitement and hyperalertness. Curling his finger around the trigger, he aimed and squeezed. A hail of bullets jingled in rapid succession, pushing through the air with elegance, striking bodies with extreme precision. Flesh tore. Arteries split. Indistinguishable faces marked with red splatter extinguished without a wisp of silvery smoke. For a moment, silence loomed. Time stood still and yet it raced. Sand shifted under his combat boots. Suddenly he heard the sound of blades in the sky. With a deadly whoosh, the helicopter launched its missiles. A storm of dust came stinging, numbing the air with an acrid smell of death. Exhausted, he leaned against the doorway, drowsiness coiling insidiously within him. An uncomfortable premonition—a feeling in the pit of his stomach as if he was looking death right in the eye—swept over him. Another earsplitting sound rumbled in the distance. Clouds of fire belched upward. Weightless, he collided with the ground, drenched in his own blood. He sucked in a breath as every muscle throbbed in pain. The faces of his parents, his sister, his brothers, and home dangled in front of him as the gate of hell opened. Eyelids fluttered shut. One last memory of roughing it in a football game with his band of brothers crossed his mind. A smile curved his lips. And then everything faded into an abyss.

About Mika Jolie

    Mika Jolie is the bestselling author of the Martha’s Way series. She lives in New Jersey with her Happy Chaos—her husband and their energizer bunnies. A sports fanatic and a wine aficionado, she’s determined to balance it all and still write about life experiences and matters of the heart. Let’s face it, people are complicated and love can be messy. When she’s not weaving life and romance into evocative tales, you can find her on a hiking adventure, apple picking, or whatever her three men can conjure up. She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Mika on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads and Amazon. For latest news on her current works-in-progress, interviews with fellow authors, or just to see what she's up to, check out her website: http://www.mikajolie.com or sign up for her newsletter http://mikajolie.us8.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=031e437e36c82d666bd5f3d46&id=af83626053 where you can hear her latest news and enjoy giveaways.

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Blog Tour: Opposites Attract by Jessica Prince

Title: Opposites Attract
Series: The Locklaine Boys (Book 2)
Author: Jessica Prince
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy

Delilah Northcutt has been described as weird, nerdy. But her favorite term is quirky. The eccentric flower shop owner definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. On the rebound from a cheating ex, she’s not looking to open her heart to someone else any time soon. On a whim, her best friend convinces her that one night with a stranger she’ll never see again is just what she needs to pull herself out of the funk she’s been living in.

Overly serious, workaholic Richard Locklaine was always described as the twin determined to do the right thing. Even if it was at the cost of his own well-being. But after years in a loveless, manipulative marriage, he’s finally free and ready to build a life of his choosing. And nowhere in that life is there room for another woman—unless it’s for just one night, of course.

They are complete opposites in every single way. But for some reason, fate has decided to force the two of them together. Despite the chemistry, they’re determined to fight the attraction growing between them. Besides, what could a florist with horrible taste in music and an attorney from Connecticut ever really have in common? Only one thing is certain. When they finally come together, it’s going to be epic.

***This is Book 2 in the Locklaine Boys series, a spin-off of Love Hate Relationship. They are interconnected standalones.***

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Opposites Attract is such a fun book. I've read books that are said to be romantic comedies, but they fall flat. This book is truly funny. There were so many times that I laughed out loud. I just couldn't help myself. 

Delilah is a delightful, quirky character that is so relatable. She is so much fun! Richard is charming, cocky, and everything that a hero in a Rom Com story should be. The story starts out with the duo having a one night stand, and Delilah sneaking out once he falls asleep. Of course, they didn't exchange numbers or names. They definitely keep reliving their night together and are unable to move on.

When fate throws them together, the fun and the heat really kick in. I loved all the witty dialogue. It helped make the story. Add in fun, out spoken characters who like to push each other's buttons and you've got a really great, really fun book.

What the hell was I doing?

As I scanned the dimly lit club, packed full of gyrating bodies that reeked of cheap cologne and too much perfume, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was actually stuck in the seventh circle of hell. Sweat was running into cracks and crevices I didn’t want to think about, and my eyes itched something fierce.

“Stop that!” my best friend Devon reached over and smacked my hand away from my eye.

“Will you quit hitting me?”

“Then quit digging at your eyeballs like you’re trying to pop them out!” she snapped before picking the shot glass up off the table and slamming the tequila down like a seasoned pro.

“I can’t help it,” I whined. “These contacts are driving me crazy! I don’t understand why I couldn’t have just worn my glasses.”

Devon braced her hands on the table and focused on me. “Because,” she spoke firmly, despite the copious amounts of booze we’d been ingesting for the past hours. “The goal for tonight is sinfully sexy, not adorably quirky.”

“But—” I began to argue, only to have her continue like I hadn’t said anything.

“And while there are men out there who can appreciate the day-to-day Delilah in all her cute glory, the purpose of tonight is to find a hot, well-hung man to clean your pipes and get your mind off that stupid bastard with hours and hours of meaningless sex. And the sad fact is, one-night stands just don’t go for adorable.”

My nose scrunched up at her remark. “Sweet Jesus, Devon. I’ll give you twenty bucks to stop referring to my lady bits as pipes. Every time you say it, I feel like I should call a plumber or something.” I reached over and snatched a shot glass off the table and downed it.

She hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you should. Lord knows your douche-bag ex wasn’t giving it to you good enough.”

“That’s not tr—” I began to argue, only to have her shoot me a look that said, “Keep lying to me. I dare you.” “Okay, so it’s true,” I finally relented.

Devon nodded satisfactorily. “That’s why I posted all over social media that he suffered from ED.”

My eyes went wide, my mouth hanging open. “You didn’t!”

“Sure the hell did!” she shouted proudly. “And I regret nothing. That shit-for-brains deserves so much worse for what he did to you. Now,” she pushed another shot glass in front of me, “drink up like a good little girl, and let’s find you a man you won’t have to ask, ‘Is it in yet?’”

FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

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Born and raised around Houston Texas, Jessica spent most of her life complaining about the heat, humidity, and all around pain in the ass weather. It was only as an adult that she quickly realized the cost of living in Houston made up for not being able to breathe when she stepped outside. That’s why God created central air, after all.

Jessica is the mother of a perfect little boy–she refuses to accept that he inherited her attitude and sarcastic nature no matter what her husband says.

In addition to being a wife and mom, she’s also a wino, a coffee addict, and an avid lover of all types of books–romances still being her all time favs. Her husband likes to claim that reading is her obsession but she just says it’s a passion…there’s a difference. Not that she’d expect a boy to understand.

Jessica has been writing since she was a little girl, but thankfully grew out of drawing her own pictures for her stories before ever publishing her first book. Because an artist she is not.

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