Monday, September 30, 2019

Another Round Release Blitz


Title: Another Round
Author: Nikki Belaire
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 30, 2019


Blurb
She knows I would die for her. Even if her father is the one who wants me dead.

A call I don’t expect. A job I don’t want. A hassle I don’t need. I’d protected his wife a long time ago, and now the notorious mob boss wants me to keep his daughter safe. I resist the tempting and troublesome mafia princess for as long as I can, but once I take her, there’s no going back, no giving her back. She thinks what we have between us is just a fling, but I know we’re forever. Regardless of what she says or her dad orders. 

Another Round is a friends-to-lovers, older man/younger woman mafia romance and touches on sensitive topics. Reader discretion advised. No cheating or cliffhanger.


Purchase Links
99c for a limited time!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited


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Excerpt
I lead her to the stool where I normally serve her dinner. She climbs up and slides her pert arse across the wood. Crossing her gorgeous legs out of habit. That tempt me more than ever knowing how close I came to having some other bastard touch them.

She takes in the mess on the floor behind me. Anxiety drawing down her face as she peruses the damage. “What happened?”

My palm cups her cheek to turn her back to face me. The only thing I give a damn about is settling things between us. Setting her straight about other men. Or the lack there of going forward. “I dropped it.”

“Andy?”

Now she knows I’m the one who’s lying. Silky hair brushing across my forearm as she tilts her head in worry and disbelief. Making the cords tighten from her concern over my stuff. Over my anger. Over me.

I place my fists on each side of the counter behind her. Locking her in place. Trapping her between my arms. Applying old interrogation methods she won’t be able to fight. “Who was that guy?”

She swallows and licks her lips. Responding to the demand pulsing in my tone.

“Josh. Lauren’s engaged to his older brother Logan.”

Tension surges between us from the proximity of our bodies. From her squirming in her seat. From her looking up at me with no way out from under my gaze. “Are you going to go out with him?”

Never fucking happening but I want to know what she intends. What she mistakenly believes I’m going to allow her to get away with.

“We just met.”

I don’t fall for her dismissive tone. As if the idea is preposterous. As if she’s never considered the possibility. As if I have nothing to be concerned about. “Are you going to go out with him?”

My voice is low, hard, almost unrecognizable even to myself with a possessiveness I’ve never heard. I’ve never experienced until now.

“Lauren is trying to fix us up. A double date. She thinks–”

“What do you think?”

She shivers when I lean closer. My nose nudging her hair out of the way while my lips brush over her ear. A shuddering breath blows against my cheek and fireworks explode across my skin when her hand curls over my opposite shoulder. Steadying herself from me engulfing her.

“He’s n-nice. He’s easy to talk to.”

“Of course he is. He wants to fuck you.”

“That’s all you think I am?” My accusation enrages her, and she twists to the side, trying to face me again. Too small to be at eye level she stares up at me with all the bravado she can muster, leveling me with her disgust. Before I got sympathy and compassion. Now I get unadulterated fury. She’s pissed as hell at me. Almost as much as I am at her. “That’s all you think anyone would ever want from me?”

What she lacks in size she makes up for in rage. Shredding me to the core with the pain in her wracked body. The mafia princess in her full glory as she rolls back her shoulders and gives me a hard shove. “Get the fuck off me!”

Fuck that. My hands encircle her wrists, and I diminish my force to ensure I don’t crush the fine bones under my fingers. “I’m not finished talking to you.”

“Well I’m finished with you. I’m tired of being humiliated. Now let me go!”

The agony in her voice slices through me, and I still. Shocked by her allegation. I’m hung over and my damn head’s spinning from booze and lust, but I know I can’t be hearing her right. “I may have fucked up more times than I can count, but I know I’ve never humiliated you.”

Straining against my grip, she keeps fighting for me to release her. Which will never happen. “That’s all you ever do.”

“Trouble, you’re going to have to explain it to me because I’m totally confused.”

Misery surges in me with the loss of her gaze. Unwilling to look at me. Her shoulders drooping as much as her fire fades. “When I held your hand you couldn’t get me off of you fast enough. And when I kissed you, you rolled away. It’s embarrassing that you don’t want me.”

No one has ever been more wrong than her in this moment. “Look down.” She draws in a shaky breath from the huskiness of my voice. From the need in my eyes and my touch and my body. “Look down at my cock and see how much I want you.”

Her forehead brushes my chin, and I breathe deep, relishing the enticing scent of her flowery shampoo with the top of her head near my lips as we stare at my dick bulging in my pants of its own volition. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

“Then why do you keep rejecting me?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

Once again I fuck up and have no choice but to let her go. Instantly, her arms cross over her chest in protection of her wounded heart. She still refuses to look at me. I force her to, sliding my fingers under her chin and lifting her exquisite face to mine. “If things were different I’d make you mine.”

“I want to be yours.”

Fuck. She is killing me. “You know that can’t happen.”


Author Bio
Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for bad boys, especially ones who can't live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters' lives than her own. But, when she's in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.

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Exquisitely Hidden (Sin City Tale #2) Cover Reveal +Giveaway


Title: Exquisitely Hidden
Series: Sin City Tale #2
Author: M. Jay Granberry
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Photo: Regina Wamba
Release Date: November 20, 2019

Blurb
He was everything I needed when I thought I had it all…
As front man for the band everyone’s eyes are on me.
I bask in the spotlight
Because it hides the flaws.
Everyone has secrets.
Mine will ruin everything I’ve built.
My career, my music, my life…
But keeping this secret?
It’s breaking my heart.
I knew how we would end before we started
And still I can’t resist him.
Not everyone will understand.
But I do.
It’s simple.
He’s the man I’m meant to love.
How long can I deny who I truly am?
Should I keep my secret or risk it all?


Pre-order Link
$1.99 for pre-order only!

Also Available
99c for a VERY limited time!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Author Bio
M. Jay Granberry is first and foremost an insatiable reader.
Among her favorite things are classic fairy tales, smutty books where characters have heart, old lady sweaters (preferably chunky knit), gift baskets (giving not receiving), and charcuterie trays (green olives, smoked cheese, and Genoa salami).
She is a true Las Vegas native, the one in Nevada not New Mexico, and to answer the most frequently asked questions about growing up in Sin City…
  • No, she doesn’t live in a hotel.
  • No, she has never been a stripper although she does know some.
  • Prostitution is absolutely illegal in Clark County (Las Vegas)!
  • And what happens in Vegas does indeed stay in Vegas.
M. Jay earned a degree in words and stories, and after fifteen plus years of doing everything other than writing, she penned her first novel.
Giving a voice to characters, that are strong yet fragile, that are sometimes uncomfortably real, that express love in dirtiest ways with the sweetest sentiments is honestly a dream come true.

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Friday, September 27, 2019

Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay #8) Blog Tour +Review

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Title: Wrapped Up in You 
Author: Jill Shalvis
Release Date: September 24, 2019

Wrapped Up in You, an all-new standalone contemporary romance by Jill Shalvis.
It’s love. Trust me.

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Blurb
After a lifetime on the move, Ivy Snow is an expert in all things temporary—schools, friends, and way too many Mr. Wrongs. Now that she owns a successful taco truck in San Francisco and an apartment to call home, Ivy’s reinvented life is on solid ground. And she’s guarded against anything that can rock it. Like the realities of a past she’s worked hard to cover up. And especially Kel O’Donnell. Too hot not to set off alarms, he screams temporary. If only his whispers weren’t so delightfully naughty and irresistible.
Kel, an Idaho sheriff and ranch owner, is on vacay, but Ivy’s a spicy reason to give his short-terms plans a second thought. Best of all, she’s a tonic for his untrusting heart, burned once and still in repair. But when Ivy’s past intrudes on a perfect romance, Kel fears that everything she’s told him has been a perfect lie. Now, if only Ivy’s willing to share, Kel will fight for a true love story.

Download your copy today!
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2LzsGxn

Blog Tour.jpg

Excerpt
He held her gaze for a long beat before taking the bag and unzipping it, finding the dishes she’d put together for him. “Not tacos,” he said in surprise.  
“Making tacos is my job,” she said. “This was for something else.” 
“And what’s that?”  
“An apology for being … grumpy last night.”  
“You weren’t.”  
She gave him a get real look and he smiled. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was understandable. You’d just gotten an unfortunate and unfair surprise.” He gently tilted her face up to his. “You doing okay this morning?”  
“Yes,” she said. “Of course.”  
“Of course,” he repeated and shook his head. “Smart, tough, and resilient,” he murmured, his gaze on her face.  
Now it was her turn to smile. “Some might say stubborn, impulsive, and doesn’t know when to quit.” “Yeah,” he said. “But I find those things very attractive.”  
Honestly, she didn’t know how to take half the things he said. They made her feel both terrified and exhilarated at the same time. “You’re a strange man.”  
“So I’ve been told.” He looked over the food. “You poison any of it?”  
“No, and only because I’d never waste food.” But to prove it, she grabbed the fork she’d packed and took a bite of her eggs. “Mmm,” she moaned before she could stop herself, but hey, she’d worked out and been on the move ever since, and she was starving. Plus, she made damn good eggs if she said so herself.  
Again their eyes met, and that now familiar spark went right through her. She wanted him. Quite badly, if going off her racing pulse meant anything. He was so … what, exactly? Steady? Tough? Intense and yet somehow easy-going, not to mention also extremely easy on the eyes?  
“You didn’t have to cook something special for me,” he said, sounding touched.  
“You helped me last night. I repay my debts.”  
“I didn’t do it so you’d feel indebted to me,” he said and cocked his head as he studied her for a beat. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me about the apparent assholes who’ve been in your life to make you so distrusting of me.”  
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s not just you. I don’t trust anyone. And it wasn’t just me paying back a debt,” she admitted. “I wanted to cook for you.” And because that made his smile warm, which in turn made something inside her warm as well, she shrugged and backed up a few steps, needing breathing room. “I also wanted to thank you for your help,” she said, feeling annoyingly awkward as he shoved stacks of plans to one side of the table and started pulling everything else out of her bag with a deep male hum of pleasure when he caught sight of the pancakes.  
“Are those blueberry?” he asked very seriously.  
She nodded.  
“Fair warning, if they’re as good as the eggs, I really am going to drop to my knees and ask you to marry me.”  
That startled a laugh out of her. “Fair warning, if you drop to your knees, I’m going to use my considerable kickboxing skills on you.”


This is the eighth book in this series. They can be read as standalone books. I have only read one other book in the series and didn’t feel lost or confused at all. Ivy has walls so tall no one can see over them. She has led a hard life from a young ago so the walls make sense. Kel, has been burned before. He is weary of getting hurt again. A little part of him says he doesn’t deserve it either. There is instant chemistry between the two. Ivy finds herself letting him in when she keeps others out. Kel finds himself drawn to her like no woman before. How long will they fight what is between them before they realize they are better for it. Ivy’s past comes back and doesn’t make things easier between her and Kel. In fact, it may destroy it completely. This was a great read. I love the characters. There is romance, drama, and more in this book. After reading it it makes want to read the other books in the series that I haven’t. Congrats on another great book Jill.


About Jill
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s sexy contemporary and award-winning books wherever romances are sold and click on the blog button above for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.

Connect with Jill

The Trouble with Christmas (Credence, Colorado #2) Blog Tour

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“How is this book both adorable and sexy? The Trouble with Christmas is a big city meets small town, opposite attract hilarious romance full of holiday shenanigans, family, love and sigh-worthy moments. It's one of the must-reads of 2019! I absolutely loved it!" --Naima Simone, USA Today bestselling author

 

The Trouble with Christmas, an all-new opposites attract romance from USA Today bestselling author Amy Andrews, is available now! 

 

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Blurb
All Suzanne St. Michelle wants is an over-the-top, eggnog-induced holiday with her best friend in Credence, Colorado. But when her hoity-toity parents insist she come home for Christmas in New York, she blurts out that her sexy landlord is actually her boyfriend and she can’t leave him—Joshy loves Christmas. The more twinkle lights the better.
Rancher Joshua Grady does not love Christmas. Or company, or chatty women. Unfortunately for him, the chattiest woman ever has rented the cottage on his ranch, invited her rich, art-scene parents, and now insists he play “fake rancher boyfriend” in a production of the Hokiest Christmas Ever. And somehow…she gets him to agree.
Apparently, he’ll do anything to get his quiet life back. At least there’s mistletoe every two feet—and kissing Suzy is surprisingly easy. But in the midst of acres of tinsel, far too many tacky Christmas sweaters, and a tree that can be seen from space, he’s starting to want what he lost when he was a kid—a family. Too bad it’s with a woman heading back to New York before the ball drops…

TTWC - FB banner AN
Download your copy today!
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2Jz9bW5

Excerpt
Grady barely felt the chill as he stripped off his freezing, sodden shirt in the equally freezing concrete shell of the mudroom. The silence was distracting. Too distracting, and he could think of little else. The last three mornings, he’d gone about his chores serenaded by chanting monks. Which was strange but…whatever. It didn’t bother him or the animals, and it gave his ranch hands something to laugh about.  
Except now there was no music. And that was bothering him, because he suddenly realized he was thinking about her—something he’d been trying not to do. Had her power gone out? Was she sick? Had she fallen in the cottage and smacked her head on the stone floor? Had some kind of seizure? Was she unconscious? Had she decided to up and leave?  
Yeah, right…he should be so lucky.  
Grady shook his head, growling to himself as he flicked off the running faucet and plunged his hands into the steaming-hot sink of water, washing off the caked-on muck from his hands and arms and chest courtesy of a calf that had gotten itself bogged in a freezing quagmire caused by recent rain and melting almost-frozen ground.  
He’d managed to rope it out with the help of two of his hands, its plaintive mooing and the distress of its mother keeping everyone focused on the job but somehow, when they were almost there, he’d managed to lose his balance and fall into the frigid mud.  
His hands had laughed their asses off as they’d dragged his out of the muck.  
The hot water felt good on his chilled skin as he picked up the cake of soap and lathered his arms and chest and neck. He needed a real shower, of course, but he’d learned a long time ago to wash up before he went inside. The plumbing in the mudroom was way more forgiving than the more delicate pipes inside the cabin.  
Thankfully his jeans weren’t as mucky. Ordinarily he’d have stripped them off in the mudroom, too, and walked from the barn to the cabin in his underwear—isolated living did have its advantages—but he wasn’t about to do that with Suzanne St. Michellenearby.  
And great…just great. He was thinking about her again.  
He obviously wasn’t getting laid enough. Just how long hadit been since he’d been with a woman? Well over a year ago. Probably closer to two. Because that had to be it, that had to be the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about the curvy New Yorker even though she’d stayed on her turf exactly as he had demanded.  
Reaching with one hand for the fresh towel that hung over the hook above the sink, he pulled the plug with the other, then proceeded to towel dry. At least up until he heard a faint gasp and spun around to find the woman on his mind standing just inside the doorway, her curves hidden in a huge red coat, that green knitted cap pulled down low over her forehead and ears.  
His hands paused mid drying the back of his neck. The room wasn’t big, maybe five feet by five feet, which meant she was way closer to him than he was comfortable with, given his state of undress. “Oh…I’m…sorry.” Her breath misted into the frigid air as her voice faltered. “I didn’t know you were in here.”  
Her eyes fell to his chest, zeroed in on the nickel-size scar just beneath his right collarbone courtesy of some shrapnel, before straying to his pecs and abs for what seemed like forever, the awkward silence stretching. Normally Grady wouldn’t bother filling it because silences were where he felt most comfortable and the other person generally rushed in to fill them up. But Suzanne wasn’t bothering, either.  
At least not with her mouth anyway.  
Her eyes were a different story. They were having an entire conversation as they roved all over his chest. She was looking at him like he was a slice of one of Annie’s pies, and Christ if that wasn’t like a bullet straight to his dick. The kind of friendly fire he could do without.  
Fucking hell. He didn’t want to be pie. Not this woman’s. Not any woman’s. He wanted to be…tofu. Nobody lusted after tofu. 
“Had some trouble with a calf.” Grady felt like an explanation might help the situation, but he still felt like an idiot making small talk.  
“Was it being born?” She pulled her gaze from his abs to his eyes. “Did you have to stick your hand up inside and drag it out? I saw that on a documentary once and couldn’t believe how messy it was. And how calm the mother was. I mean, I’m not sure I’d be okay to just stand there while someone stuck their entire arm up my hoo-ha, right?”  
She hesitated for a moment like she’d done the first day they’d met, like she wasn’t sure this was a topic for polite conversation. But her mouth had already committed, so she jutted her chin and went for it.  
“I know it has to be done and, let’s face it, a calf is much bigger than a man’s arm—” Her gaze dropped to his arms via the scar, his chest, and his belly button. She was looking at him like pie again. Annie’s pecan pie with melted butter. Sweet and savory all at once. An orgasm for the tongue. Not tofu. Plain, tasteless, orgasmlessTofu.  
“Even yours,” she continued, forcing her gaze back to his face, and it took Grady a moment to pick up the thread of her ramblings. She shuddered. “But no thank you. I mean, seriously, females of all species really do get a raw deal. I bet you if the males had to push out disproportionately bigger babies through the passage provided for the process, they’d have invented some kind of handy zipper system a long time ago. Some dude would have patented the bejesus out of it.”  
She stopped abruptly, snapping her lips closed as if her mouth had finally received the frantic shut the fuck upmessages from her brain. Her cheeks looked pink, but then so did her nose, so it was probably just the nippy December weather.  
Grady stared at her, not only at the amount of words she’d spoken but at the content of her monologue. “We…” He spoke because it felt like his turn, but he didn’t even know what to do about cows with zippers. “We don’t calve in winter.” 
“Oh, right.” She nodded briskly, her cheeks definitely growing pinker now. “That makes sense. Who wants to be cold and in pain, right?”  
She gave a funny little half smile that ended quickly and awkwardly. Then they just stood and stared at each other for several beats longer than was normal or even comfortable, their warm breaths misting into the air.  
Tucking her hands into the pockets of her red coat, she said, “I hope it’s okay to have a look around?” Grady gave a brief, terse nod. “Just don’t go too far or go near the animals.” Last thing he needed was to rescue some damn fool city slicker who’d wandered off and gotten herself lost.  
She nodded absently as her gaze drifted again, licking over his chest, lingering on the scar. He should be freezing, half-naked in a room that was little more than an icebox, but with her looking at him like she was trying to commit every line and chest hair to memory, he only felt hot.  
Really fucking hot. Melted butter on pecan pie hot. 
“I hope—” Her voice sounded a little uneven, and she cleared her throat. “I hope my music hasn’t been disturbing you the last few days.”  
He wasn’t sure why she was making small talk—although it was preferable to incessant observations about cow hoo-has and zippers. Nor was he sure why he was standing ramrod straight in front of her, thinking about pie when he should be grabbing the spare shirt he kept in the cupboard above the washbasin and getting decent. 
But up had been down since the moment she’d arrived.  
“It’s fine,” he dismissed. It hadn’t been the music that had been disturbing him, that was for sure.  
She nodded again, glancing around the room briefly before settling her eyes back on his chest. “Well…I guess I’ll…” She didn’t finish the sentence as her gaze once again zeroed in on the scar, and her lips rolled together in contemplation. “Do you mind—?” She stepped forward and raised her hand tentatively.  
When he didn’t move because he was paralyzed by the realization she was actually going to touch him, she became bolder, stepping in closer again as her fingers made contact. She was so close now, he could smell her. Coffee and snickerdoodles? And something sharp, maybe chemical. Paint, he supposed.  
“Is it a bullet wound?”  
Grady flinched as she touched the scar, her fingers like icicles as they sunk into the small indentation. He closed his eyes as heat bloomed from the center, spreading like a ripple, burning like a furnace down the length of his body.  
Blood pulsed hard and thick, everywhere. Damn it, she might as well be wrapping that cold hand around the throbbing hardness pressing into the zipper of his fly. It was probably forty degrees in this concrete box, but it felt like a sauna, and it was an easy 120 inside his boxers.  
He swallowed. “It’s from…shrapnel.”  
He had no idea why he wasn’t stepping back. He should step back. He should have said, Yes, I do mind, told her it was none of her business. He should be finding a shirt.  
Find a fucking shirt, idiot. 
  “Did it hurt?”  
Surprised by the question, he glanced down to find the bulky knit of her hat a whisker away from brushing the underside of his chin. “Like a bastard.”  
She looked up and they were close—her mouth was close—her fingers a balm to the old wound that still made his shoulder ache on cold winter mornings. His heart thumped like a jungle drum and god almighty, it was hot enough in here to grow bananas.  
“Was it bad? Did you bleed a lot?”  
His throat was dry as the concrete beneath his feet. “It bled some.” Then, finally getting his shit together, he took a step back, and her hand slid away.  
If his distancing bothered her, she didn’t show it, just simply said, “Thank you for your service.” Grady didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say to this standard platitude. He appreciated the sentiment, but he’d just been doing his job. So he nodded, his pulse reverberating like a dinner gong in his ears, as she slowly backed out of the room and disappeared from sight.  
Reaching for the sink, Grady gripped the curved edge in both his hands and hunched over, dropping his head down between his shoulder blades and taking some deep steadying breaths. 
 January could not come soon enough.



About Amy Andrews
Amy is an Aussie author of hot contemporary romance who believes in multiple orgasms, mighty wangs and happily ever afters. She’s been penning them for over twenty years and has 70+ books to her name.
As well as unforgettable characters and great sex you’ll also be treated to some laughs and a dollop of quirk because Amy doesn’t seem to know how to write a book without a bit of both. You might also cry a little because there’s nothing she loves more than a laughy-criey book!
She also loves sunsets and rainbows, unicorns and mermaids, booze and travel. And her home that overlooks the ocean. She may also happen to believe she was a Roman goddess in her past life because its the only thing that explains her adoration for all things Italy.

Connect with Amy
Twitter: @amyandrewsbooks http://bit.ly/2uYHcqQ
Instagram: @amyandrewsbooks http://bit.ly/2Z7Ss28