lunes, 26 de septiembre de 2016

COVER REVEAL - Tonic by Staci Hart

Title: Tonic
Author: Staci Hart
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Staci Hart
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography
Release Date: October 13, 2016


Joel Anderson doesn’t take anything seriously.

Not his relationships, which have been few and far between since his brutal divorce. Not the drama of working in a tattoo parlor, which seems to be around every corner. When things get him down, he smiles and cracks a joke. But he’s not the kind of man you cross, or you’ll find yourself at the wrong end of his fists.

Annika Belousov takes everything seriously.

Like her job as a reality television producer, given that she typically has something to prove. Or her love life, which is defined by a series of requirements — affluent, ambitious, accomplished, to name a few. Definitely her family, who worked their whole lives to afford her every opportunity, a sacrifice she doesn’t take lightly. When she’s tapped to produce a reality show at Joel’s shop, she doesn’t think twice, just goes in for the kill, as if there were any other way.

The second Annika walks into Joel’s shop, he makes it his mission to crack her open, but she’s not having it. He’s all wrong — too crass, too hairy, too un-serious. But it doesn’t take her long to find out there’s more to him than smirks and tattoos. And what she finds could put her career and his heart on the line.

Not that Joel cares. Because for the first time in a long time, he’s found his tonic.

Author Bio

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, even though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. Her favorite word starts with f and ends with k.

From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's sleeping, cleaning, or designing graphics.

Author Links


COVER REVEAL - A Love Letter to Whiskey by Kandi Steiner

Title: A Love Letter to Whiskey
Author: Kandi Steiner
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Quirky Bird
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography
Release Date: October 13, 2016


It’s crazy how fast the buzz comes back after you’ve been sober for so long.

Whiskey stood there, on my doorstep, just like he had one year before. Except this time, there was no rain, no anger, no wedding invitation — it was just us.

It was just him — the old friend, the easy smile, the twisted solace wrapped in a glittering bottle.

It was just me — the alcoholic, pretending like I didn’t want to taste him, realizing too quickly that months of being clean didn’t make me crave him any less.

But we can’t start here.

No, to tell this story right, we need to go back.

Back to the beginning.

Back to the very first drop.

This is my love letter to Whiskey. I only hope he reads it.


(pre-final edits)

The first time I tasted Whiskey, I fell flat on my face.


I was drunk from the very first sip, and I guess that should have been my sign to stay away.

Jenna and I were running the trail around the lake near her house, sweat dripping into our eyes from the intense South Florida heat. It was early September, but in South Florida, it might as well have been July. There was no “boots and scarves” season, unless you counted the approximately six weeks in January and February where the temperature dropped below eighty degrees.

As it was, we were battling ninety-plus degrees, me trying to be a show off and prove I could keep up with Jenna’s cheerleading training program. She had finally made the varsity squad, and with that privilege came ridiculous standards she had to uphold. I hated running — absolutely loathed it. I would much rather have been on my surf board that day. But fortunately for Jenna, she had a competitive best friend who never turned down a challenge. So when she asked me to train with her, I’d agreed eagerly, even knowing I’d have screaming ribs and calves by the end of the day.

I saw him first.

I was just a few steps ahead of Jenna, and I’d been staring down at my hot pink sneakers as they hit the concrete. When I looked up, he was about fifty feet away, and even from that distance I could tell I was in trouble. He seemed sort of average at first — brown hair, lean build, soaked white running shirt — but the closer he got, the more I realized just how edible he was. I noticed the shift in the muscles of his legs as he ran, the way his hair bounced slightly, how he pressed his lips together in concentration as he neared us.

I looked over my shoulder, attempting to waggle my eyebrows at Jenna and give her the secret best friend code for “hot guy up ahead”, but she had stopped to tie her shoes. And when I turned back around, it was too late.

I smacked into him — hard — and fell to the pavement, rolling a bit to soften the fall. He cursed and I groaned, more from embarrassment than pain. I wish I could say I gracefully picked myself up, smiled radiantly, and asked him for his number, but the truth is I lost the ability to do anything the minute I looked up at him.

It was an unfamiliar, warm ache that spread through my chest as I used my hand to shield the sun streaming in behind his silhouette, just how you’d expect the first sip of whiskey to feel. He was bent over, hand outstretched, saying something that wasn’t registering because I had somehow managed to slip my hand into his and just that one touch had set my skin on fire.

Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe him, but it was all I kept thinking as I traced his features. His hair was a sort of mocha color, damp at the roots, falling onto his forehead just slightly. His eyes were wide — almost too round — and a mixture of gold, green, and the deepest brown. I didn’t coin the nickname Whiskey until much later, but it was that moment that I saw it for the first time — those were whiskey eyes. The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in. He had the longest lashes and a firm, square jaw. It was so hard, the edges so clean that I would have sworn he was angry with me if it weren’t for the smile on his face.He was still talking as my eyes fell over his broad chest before snapping back up to his sideways grin.

“Oh my God, are you fucking blind?!” Jenna’s voice snapped me from my haze as she shoved Whiskey out of the way and latched onto my hand, ripping me back to standing position. I’d barely caught my balance before she whipped around to continue her scolding. “How about you brush that long ass hair out of your eyes and watch where you’re going, huh champ?”

Oh no.

I didn’t even have time to call dibs, I couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it, before it was too late. I watched it, in slow motion, as Whiskey fell for my best friend before I even had the chance to say a single word to him.

Jenna was standing tall, arms crossed, one hip popped in her usual fashion as she waited for him to defend himself. This was her protocol — it was one of the reasons we got along. We were both what you’d call “spitfires”, but Jenna had the distinct advantage of being cripplingly gorgeous on top of having an attitude. She flipped her long, wavy blonde ponytail behind her and cocked a brow.

And then he did, too.

His smile grew wider as he met her eyes, and it was the same look I’d watched fall over guy after countless guy. Jenna was a unicorn, and men were enamored by her. As they should have been — she had platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs for days and a personality to boot. Now, before you go thinking that I was the insecure best friend - I had it going on, too. I worked hard, I was talented - just not at the things traditional high school boys valued.

But we’ll get to that.

“Hi,” Whiskey finally said, extending his hand to Jenna this time. His eyes were warm, smile inviting — if I had to pick the right word for him, just one, I’d say charming. He just oozed charm. “I’m Jamie.”

“Well, Jamie, maybe you should make an appointment with the eye doctor before you run over another innocent jogger. And you owe Brecks an apology.” She nodded to me then and I cringed at my name, wondering why she felt the need to spill it at all. She always called me B — everyone did — so why did she choose the moment I was face to face with the first boy to ever make my heart accelerate to use my full name?

Jamie was still grinning, eying Jenna, trying to figure her out, but he turned to me after a moment with that same crooked smile. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He said the words with conviction, but lifted his brows on that last line because he and I both knew who wasn’t paying attention to the trail, and he wasn’t the guilty party.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, because for some reason I was still having a difficult time finding my voice. Jamie tilted his head just a fraction, his eyes hard on me this time, and I felt naked beneath his gaze. I’d never had anyone look at me that way — completely zeroed in. It was unnerving and exhilarating, too.

But before I could latch onto the feeling, he turned back to Jenna, their eyes meeting as slow smiles spread on both of their faces. I’d seen it a million times, but this was the first time I felt sick watching it happen.

I saw him first, but it didn’t matter.

Because he saw her.

Author Bio

Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.

Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).

When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.

Author Links


martes, 20 de septiembre de 2016

New Release & Blog Tour - SWEET DREAMS by Nina Lane


Title: Sweet Dreams
A Sugar Rush Novel
Author: Nina Lane
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 20, 2016

Add SWEET DREAMS to Goodreads!
ABOUT SWEET DREAMSHe may own a candy company, but this wealthy bachelor is no Willy Wonka.Sugar Rush Candy Company CEO Luke Stone is a devoted businessman who doesn't do relationships. He does short-term affairs with clearly defined rules. But when a sexy bohemian angel propositions him in a bar, Luke is tempted to want more.
Polly Lockhart is horrified when she wakes the morning after her twenty-third birthday to realize she made a fool of herself with a sinfully delicious man. She tells herself she doesn't have time for romance anyway, as she's fighting to keep her mother's beloved bakery afloat and finish her culinary studies. That all changes when her class tours the famed Sugar Rush headquarters, and Polly collides with her dream man again. As she succumbs to their hot attraction, Polly soon realizes her bakery isn't the only thing that needs saving. Luke, driven and unyielding, will burn out unless someone convinces him to taste the sweetness of life. But can Polly remember this sugar rush is only temporary?

Grab your copy of SWEET DREAMS now:

In Nina Lane's style we have a new series that is going to give you a sugar rush filled with warm love!

I absolutely adored this book, I think I love the writing style of this author, and it reminds me of the romance stories I used to read when I was a teenage girl.

Polly and Luke are the sweetest couple, but not in a sappy way, they are just beautiful souls that found each other in the perfect moment! I love how Polly brought fun and more sense of living to Luke's life and how he saw love as something good to try when he met her. He was literally giving up his life to work, he needed to shake and live a little! Sweet Polly helped him in the best way!

I guess I channeled my inner candy fan self, because this is not your regular romance of a girl with a hippie vein falling in love with a CEO, you get to see the scientific side of how to make candy and I loved it! I think I can challenge people now to tell me how to do a nougat, they wouldn't know of course, unless they were candy manufacturers *bad joke* anyway, from the love story, to the candies, to the lovely banter of these two specially Luke with his funny side, Oh those silly jokes about hitting on Polly!, I feel like I was living in a movie! The descriptions of the places and the style of Nina Lane are by far one of the best treasures I've found here in the book world!

Also, how exciting is when she mentions MY CITY in her book!!! I was like OMG QUÉ!!!! Wonderful, wonderful!

*I received and arc in exchange of an honest review*

She wanted this man to kiss her. She wanted to feel the pressure of his lips, his body pressed against hers. She wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed by a man who radiated sexual heat and energy, who smelled like all sorts of manly things like spice and musk, a man who would know exactly how to treat a woman . . .

His gaze skimmed over her face and lingered on her lips. Her pulse sped up.

Do it, do it! Kiss me.

His hands loosened from her waist. He started to back away.

Without thinking, Polly reached up, grabbed his collar, and yanked his head down to hers.
Surprise flashed in his expression the instant before she kissed him.

Or, attempted to kiss him. Because he’d started to move away at the exact same instant, she
ended up smashing her lips against his chin. She sucked in a breath and pulled back, staring at
his mouth. She took aim and went in for the kill.


Her lips crashed against his, hot and damp. Omigod. She was totally kissing Mr. Hottie.

Moreover, she was doing it with her mouth open, and holy God, his tongue swept across hers, and he tasted like salt and scotch, and shivers of pure lust rained through her body, and she wanted to keep kissing him forever and ever . . .

Resistance suddenly coiled through him. His hands closed around her arms, and he pulled away. A murmur of protest escaped her. She tightened her grip on him, her back hitting the wall again as she forced him closer. He lifted his head. His mouth broke away from hers, his breath still hot on her lips.

“Honey, I’m not going to . . .” he started.

“Oh, kiss me some more,” Polly breathed, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.
“Please . . .”

Boldly, she flicked her tongue out to caress his lower lip. He groaned, bracing his hands on the wall behind her as he lowered his head again. Heat exploded through her. His kiss became deeper, more possessive, his arms caging her in and trapping her between the wall and his body.

She gasped in shock at the sensation of his muscled body pressed fully against hers, her breasts crushed to his hard chest, his powerful thigh edging between hers . . .

Oh God. Was that . . . ?

She whimpered, letting her head fall back as he plundered her mouth with his.

“Christ in heaven, you taste amazing,” he whispered, trailing his lips over her cheek and down to her neck. “So fucking sweet . . .”

Want to win?

Enter to win a $25 Amazon giftcard and a $25 See's Candy giftcard by entering the rafflecopter below!

New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Nina Lane writes hot, sexy romances and spicy erotica. Originally from California, she holds a PhD in Art History and an MA in Library and Information Studies, which means she loves both research and organization. She also enjoys traveling and thinks St. Petersburg, Russia is a city everyone should visit at least once. Although Nina would go back to college for another degree because she's that much of a bookworm and a perpetual student, she now lives the happy life of a full-time writer.

lunes, 19 de septiembre de 2016

Blog Tour: WILDER by Rebecca Yarros

Title: Wilder
Series: The Renegades #1
Author: Rebecca Yarros
Genre: Adult, Entangled: Embrace, New Adult, Romance
Release Date: September 19, 2016

He’s Paxton Wilder.Twenty-two-year-old, tattooed, smoking-hot leader of the Renegades.
Five time X Games medalist.
The world is his playground—especially this year—and for the next nine months I’m stuck as his tutor on the Study at Sea program.
He’s too busy staging worldwide stunts for his documentary to get to class.
But if I can’t get him to take academics seriously, I’ll lose my scholarship…if I don’t lose my heart first.
Six unlikely friends on a nine-month cruise with the Study at Sea program will learn that chemistry is more than a subject and the best lessons aren’t taught in the classroom…but in the heart.

Buy the book
Amazon / Paperback / Amazon CA / Amazon UK / B&N / Kobo / iBooks

Wilder certainly is a different experience from what I'm used to read from Rebecca Yarros, but she totally nailed it with The Renegades.

As she said in a live video, the addition of adrenaline rush brought in the hands of the extreme group is something different and very captivating. She managed to take me to a lot of parts of the world and also hooking me up on different extreme sports, they say when you read a book you live thousands of lives and this is the case with Wilder.

Leah is embarked in the adventure of a lifetime, and with a few situations in her past that left her with baggage she is prepared to embark in the experience, but not what follows next, Paxton Wilder.

On the other hand, Wilder needs Leah's help, and these two start an experience filled with love, adrenaline rush and suspense. Not only they are battling for their own demons, also Wilder is making everything that is in his effort to prove Leah that she's not another notch in his bedpost, that she's the one.

While the love story develops, there are some things happening around the filming of the documentary of The Renegades, with this, people I never expected turned out betraying Wilder and Leah and The Renegade's family, there are also a lot of history between Wilder, Nova and Rebel so is really good how Rebecca literally tell you a lot of stories into one!

The result was amazing and I'm hoping to read more about this group, specially about Nova thanks to the hints Rebecca gave us in the entire story, I sense this is the beginning of a successful series!


Rebecca Yarros is a hopeless romantic and a lover of all things coffee, chocolate, and Paleo. She is the author of the Flight & Glory series, including Full Measures, the award-winning Eyes Turned Skyward, Beyond What is Given, and Hallowed Ground. She loves military heroes, and has been blissfully married to hers for fourteen years.

When she’s not writing, she’s tying hockey skates for her four sons, sneaking in some guitar time, or watching brat-pack movies with her two daughters. She lives in Colorado with the hottest Apache pilot ever, their rambunctious gaggle of kids, an English bulldog who is more stubborn than sweet, and a bunny named General Fluffy Pants who torments the aforementioned bulldog. They recently adopted their youngest daughter from the foster system, and Rebecca is passionate about helping others do the same.

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Excerpt Reveal - Confessed by Nicola Rendell

Buy the book: 


Lucy Burchett is the heiress to a notoriously disastrous family, and she's left home for good. But when she runs a big, black pickup off the road, totaling it, she finds herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with the driver. He's got a body to die for and a hair-trigger temper. Vince Russo looks like a felon, but he's also pretty funny. He’s on the lam from the cops… and a psychopathic, Russian mob boss who wants to put his balls on a barbeque. Literally.

After a night of ill-advised cocktails and bathroom-wrecking sex, Vince just can't get Lucy off his mind. But he's got plans to rob her. And Lucy’s life is about to get a little bit criminal too.

But can a bad boy and a good girl really escape from their troubles together? Can they trust each other at all?

In the steady march of disasters that follow them west, they fight and they laugh. They tease and they’re tender. They’re either oil and water, or chocolate and peanut butter.

Except, they can’t run from the real world forever. And there’s a hell of a surprise in store for both of them…

To the reader: Confessed is a standalone featuring Lucy, who readers met as the best friend in Professed. Both are stand alones and do not need to be read together. Be advised, things get super dirty in this book. The sex is explicit, and the language is rude. It’s an erotic love story with fury. Other tasters’ notes: Bobby pins. Peculiar motels. Horses. Motorcycles. Aiding and abetting. Great Smoky Mountains. New Mexico.



I’m in a ditch with the front end of my truck wrapped around a pine tree when I see her in my rearview mirror. Construction lights on the highway light her up from behind, like some rock star. The curve of her calves is perfect, pretty little ankles and strappy sandals. I’m such a goddamned sucker for sandals.
Her dress is made of something thin. The wind kicks up, lifting her skirt and showing me her bare thighs. She tries to catch it with her hand, but she can’t stop the breeze, and she gives me the full Marilyn Monroe.
This is not what I need right now.
I force the door open with my shoulder and slide out. My neck hurts like a motherfucker, and the engine is pouring smoke. This was not the plan. I head up the dirt embankment. I can’t take my eyes off of her. The construction lights do me a favor and magnify the line of her breasts on the ground in shadow. I rub my stubble and then crack my neck.
Marilyn. She had nothing on this one. Christ.
The dress, it’s this peach color. Those shoulders are smooth and soft. That sexy blonde hair comes down in waves just past her nipples.
She’s driving a white 2016 BMW X5. Top-of-the-line engine, pain-in-the-ass security system. You can’t steal that one unless you’ve got the key. Believe me. I know.
I was driving a perfectly good Dodge 3500 Cummins turbo diesel Hemi V8. I hotwired it not an hour ago from the back lot of a Walmart fifty miles away, outside Knoxville. I was doing just fine until she came along.
Not what I need. At fucking all.
I walk up the embankment. Behind me, the pickup starts honking all by itself. The BMW, on the other hand, is just a little banged up on the bumper. Unbelievable. German engineering and further proof of the point that life’s a total bitch. That’s why you’ve got to steal what you want.
Now I’m close to her. About ten feet away.
A little bow accentuates her waist. One of her straps is a little bit twisted. Pouty lips. Oh shit. Are those freckles?
Motherfuck it.
“You stopped too fast!” she says, marching right up to me like I don’t outweigh her by a hundred and seventy pounds and I don’t tower over her by at least a foot. Totally fucking fearless. “Haven’t you ever heard of pulsing your brake lights?” She points at me. “Sir?”
Sexy and angry?
For. Fuck’s. Sake.
The last time I did a stint in prison, I had to take a mandatory anger management class because of an incident in the lunch line when a racist SOB started rolling with the slurs, so I turned around, slammed him with a left hook, and knocked three of his teeth into his canned beans. Fucking righteous, I’ll tell you what, but not exactly what the New Jersey Department of Corrections had in mind.
So in that stupid class, they taught us something called “meditative breathing.” I count back from eight on the exhale.
It’s not fucking working.
She’s turning me on and she’s pissing me off all at once. Kryptonite in sandals.
I point to the truck. “Are you kidding me? That’s my fault?” It starts hissing even louder. I take a step closer and let my voice get low and mean. “My money’s on you texting. You’ve got the look. Probably talking to some girlfriend of yours about the latest shade of nail polish.”
​Her mouth drops open. That tongue. That mouth.
Awww fuck.
​“And yeah, I’m fine,” I say, gripping my neck. “Thanks for asking.”
She looks me up and down like she’s checking for protruding broken bones. Then she puts her hands on her hips—actually puts her hands on her damned hips—and stomps her foot—actually stomps her damned foot. She says all matter of fact, “I can see you’re fine. But the crash wasn’t my fault. I had no chance of avoiding you. At all.”
​Jesus Christ, what’s that smell? Peaches?
Nope. She’s got no power over me. If I don’t look straight at her and stay downwind.
“Want me to draw you a diagram? You rear-ended me.” I smack my fist into my palm. “It’s not fucking complicated.”
“There’s no need to be rude!” she says. She steps back, but I’ve got her cornered against the fender of the Beemer. She crosses her arms. I’m pretty sure I don’t audibly groan when her forearms push on her tits from underneath. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I do. She sets her teeth and glares. “Okay? It doesn’t do any good to yell at me, sir.”
​Actually, I’ve got a feeling it probably would do her some good to get yelled at. She looks like she’s never been properly reamed in her life, and right now I’m just angry enough to be the first one to do it.
​Her eyes widen, and her jaw slips forward, snagging her top lip and pulling it in. Her nostrils flare. Then she sucks air through her teeth and stares at me, like she’s thinking of a whole lot of awful things she’d like to say but is too well bred to say them.
​I’d like to hear her say them. I’d like to hear that mouth get real dirty.
“I was going to say we should call a tow truck, mister. Do you have a problem with that? Do you want to stand around and argue about it for a while?” She’s pointing at me again. Her finger is about two inches from my chest.
​Pretty little hands, and a row of gold bracelets running up her arm. Around her neck, she’s got a tiny gold necklace sitting just perfectly in that deep hollow of her collarbone. I want my tongue there. Right there.
​Damn it. I want to push her. I want to piss her off. I want to go a little too fucking far.
​Just to see what happens.
I tip forward in my boots so that her finger meets my chest. She doesn’t recoil at all. She just pushes harder. The light from the road behind spills down over her shoulder.
​I see the shadow of her sharp collarbone threading its way under those thin straps.
​I take stock of this little spitfire nightmare. Look at that fucking waist. But come on, Vince. Man up. Focus, you asshole. “No cops,” I tell her. “Too much fucking paperwork.”
​Surprisingly, because she looks a whole hell of a lot like the kind of girl that would call the cops if she thought there was a raccoon in the attic, she nods. “No cops. I agree.” She pulls her phone out of her bag. It’s got one of those rhinestone covers on it. It catches a beam from her headlight and shines disco ball sparkles all over her body. One of them shimmers over her left nipple.
“And I don’t want to go through insurance,” she adds, “if you don’t mind.”
“Fine.” Again, it makes exactly zero difference to me. Not like I have a Geico policy to show her either. Now the little glitter circles are shining on her face. Of course they are.
I think I might be fucked.
While she looks up a tow company, dragging her little index finger over the shattered screen of her phone, I get a chance to really study her as I cool my jets. She’s maybe 22, 23. Blonde, but that’s a dye job. I don’t believe in God, not really, but I’d like to thank Jesus right here and now that she’s not a brunette. If she were, I’d have no fucking chance at all.
From where I’m standing, I can see straight down into her cleavage. Those tits make me feel like I’m on the winning end of a high-speed chase.
Mint-green bra. Ironic, right, because mint green is supposed to be calming—jails are mint green inside, and I should know—but that bra is doing everything except lowering my blood pressure. I can see her skin through the lace edges. Her tan line crosses under them right where I’m staring. I’m supposed to be fuming, and now I’m thinking about one of those nipples in my mouth. I can actually feel myself start to salivate, thinking of how she’d feel between my teeth. Thinking texture and taste. Wondering about how her nipples change shape when they get hard.
I pat my pocket for my Lucky Strikes.
​“Hello, we need a tow truck, please,” she says into the phone, looking straight up at me now. She slaps her free hand to her chest. She caught me looking.
I take a step back and pull out my lighter.
She wrinkles her nose as she watches me light up, looking at me like Gross!
But she refocuses on the call, putting her finger in her free ear for zero reason whatsoever. “Location? On the shoulder of Highway…” She twirls around.
Come the fuck on. That ass.
I stare into the flame of my lighter and take a long, long drag.
​“I have no idea,” she says. Now she’s looking at me again and shifting the bottom of the phone back towards her cheek. “Do you know where we are? Or do you have a head injury? Stop staring at me.”
I exhale through my nose. “We’re on I-75.” I point at the sign I leveled when she ran me off the road. “Mile marker 43, Peaches.”
​She makes a fist of her free hand. I see the tendons tight across her knuckles, and she makes this angry, sexy little gasp. “Right. I’m sure you did hear him.” She waves her hand in front of her face, making a big show of not wanting my smoke anywhere near her.
There’s a pause while the person on the other end is talking. She nods and looks from side to side as she listens. She does this cute little thing with her toes, sort of spreads them out on her sandals and plants them, and then comes up just about half an inch on her heels. Light pink toenail polish. Adorable feet. But then her eyes pop back to mine, and she presses the phone harder into her cheek. “Hang on, are you saying it’ll be tomorrow before you can help?”
​I groan into the filter. This shitstorm is becoming epic.
But I play it cool. That’s another thing about being a con. Never show your hand, even if a pretty little thing like this is making your balls ache. “Give me a lift to the nearest motel. I’ll wait there.” I blow upwind intentionally. It goes right to her face.
​After a dramatic cough, way too dramatic to be believable, including a totally unnecessary wheeze, she confirms what I said with the tow truck lady, repeating back to me everything she’s hearing in her ear. She’s staring up at me but with a listening stare, not really looking at me. Almost through me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and headlights so that I can see her irises. They’re this honey brown. Amber, maybe. Gold.
I pull a little tobacco off my tongue. Goddamn it, Vince.
Finally, she hangs up. “There’s a motel about five miles from here. In Unicoi,” she reports back. “I’ll give you a ride. But no smoking in the car.”
I flick my cigarette to the ground. “Yes, ma’am.”
She scurries over and stubs it out with her sandal.
“Thanks, Smokey,” I growl at her.
She glares up at me. Fearless. Like a little Chihuahua coming up against a Rottweiler.
But this Rottweiler, he happens to be a huge fan of Chihuahuas. Especially this one.
“Give me a second,” I say. “Stay here.”
She crosses her arms. “Why?”
I think I actually growl when she pushes that cleavage towards me this time. I cover it with a cough.
“Because I don’t want you getting near the truck.”
She uncrosses her arms. “Your truck isn’t going to blow up. Promise.” She gets on her tiptoes and looks down the embankment. “Not even totaled.”
“And you’d know?”
She looks at her sandals and wiggles her toes. The angry face turns into something a little flirtier. “Possibly. It’s possible I have some experience with this sort of thing.” She comes up on her heels and then goes back down again.
God, what a cutie. I head the thirty feet back to the truck, turning my face from her before I smile too. All that spunk and heat. Shit yes.
I smell oil, and the engine clicks as I open the door. Pulling my duffel from the cab, I kill the dome light. With a T-shirt from my bag, I rub down everything I have touched for prints, including the door handle and the underside of the turn signal—because how many dipshits have been caught because of that rookie mistake?—and then I head back to her with my bag over my arm.
All the way up the embankment, I stare at those honey eyes. She’s just gorgeous. Just the naughty side of sweet. Just the feisty side of nice.
She’s smiling down at me just a little. Still got her arms crossed with one shoulder higher than the other, wrapping her arm around her front side in this sweet way. Just kills me.
She jingles her keys. “Ready?”
I’m about to say, Yeah, but are you ready for me? when the ground shakes, there’s a flash of light, and all hell breaks loose behind me.
​I’m on top of her in the dirt. The last five seconds took five minutes. As the wave of heat hit the back of my neck and my triceps, I sprang for her through the air, wrapped my arms around her little body to cover her as we landed with a hard thud on the dirt. The gasp of her lungs as my body knocked the wind out of her, the smell of burning fuel. Like a slow-motion sequence from Backdraft.
Now there’s another explosion. I pull her closer and shield her face with my shoulder. I turn to look. The flames are shooting up high with black smoke pouring from the engine. The fire’s spread into the cab and is eating up the seats already. One of the tires blows out, and her body tenses with the explosion. I grasp her tighter, instinctively. But I’m not going to lie. I’m pretty sure I could stay right here forever.
I feel her cheek on mine. I feel her breathing in my ear. I pull my face away.
We’re face to face in the dirt. Her eyes are just inches from mine.
“Are you okay?” I say. I lean closer, and without even knowing what I’m doing, I find I’m sliding my nose right against the soft skin of hers. There’s goddamned clear and present danger everywhere, and what am I doing?
“I’m okay,” she says. “Are you…giving me Eskimo kisses?”
Jesus Christ. “Just checking for injuries.”
I feel her smile against my stubble. “With your nose?”
I nod. “Fuck, you smell good.”
She’s tiny under me. Her little hands are fisting my shirt in panic. Slowly she releases them and flattens her palms on my pecs.
My forearm is under her neck, making a perfect little pillow
“I guess I should cancel that tow,” she says. In the distance, there are the sounds of fire engines. I'll bet somebody driving past gave them a call.
“Probably so.”
“Thank you for, you know…” She trails off. I inhale deeply, pretending to sniffle. Yeah, she definitely smells like peaches.
I fucking love peaches.
“Thank me for what?” I ask.
It looks like it takes her a second to come back to earth. I fucking get it. I once did some uncut coke that made me feel like this.
“…For covering me? Is that the right way to say it?”
I nod into her cheek. “I think that’s about right.”
“I’m Lucy…” she says, breathless and almost smiling. Then she winces. “But I go by…” She looks up at the stars. I feel her little fingers press into my chest. “Helen. I go by Helen.”
Alright, so I might not be the smartest guy on the planet, but I do know when someone’s trying to use a fake name. Usually, the people I’m around actually get it right on the first try. I roll off her and offer her a hand to help her up. She takes it, and her palm damn near vanishes in mine. “Helen, huh?” I say.
​ “Right. Helen.” She gives me a slow, sexy blink-and-smile. Killer. A sweet little killer right here, lying through her teeth.
​That is what I’m talking about.
​She dusts the dirt off of her dress. There’s a patch of it on her arm and I wipe that off for her. Her skin is silky and soft under my fingers. Like maybe she uses baby oil after she showers. Jesus.
“I’m Vince,” I say, but whoa, holy fuck. I’m no better than she is. Vince is actually my name. This girl is turning me into an idiot. She’s fucking up my whole M.O. “I’m gonna call you Lucy if you don’t mind…Helen.”
She grits her teeth. Smiling but freaked out “Really, it would be better if you went with Helen,” she says, and starts fiddling with her necklace, zipping the charm side to side and then running the fine chain along her lip before letting it fall back to her throat. She goes to the driver’s side of the Beemer and gets in.
I get in the passenger’s side. I notice a suitcase in the backseat. I’m putting it together. All by herself. No insurance. No cops. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s going on here. I slam my door shut. “Sure. Helen.”
The strap of her dress falls down her shoulder as she buckles up. She fires up the engine and then turns to me and smiles.
Yeah. She doesn’t know it yet, but Peaches here, she’s got everything I need.

confessed 2.jpg

Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.


New Release & Review - Blended by Sasha Brümmer

Title: Blended 
A Redemption Novel
Author: Sasha Brümmer
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 19, 2016

Clichéd sentiments of love are not my thing. Instead, I give into raw temptation and thrive on the physical aspects of what men have to offer. Unemotional, carnal connections are what I live for, and they seem to keep me in a blissfully naïve state.

I’ve gone years with a different man in a different bed each night, but one glance from a ruminating stranger as he lifts my panties to his nose narrows my attraction from multiple men to only one.

I’m not entirely sure how to process the thoughts and passions battling in my mind until he gives me no other choice…until I’m thrust into an unstable emotional high that I cannot seem to resist.

His objective is to break me in and savor me as if I’m his favorite bottle of single malt whiskey.

I’m well aware of my sensual dependencies. He’s unaware that his still exist.

Purchase Links
Amazon US / UK / CA / AU

Blended is a story that has a lot of potential and is an angsty read with a good romance unfolding between each chapter.

With an interesting story Sasha Brümmer treated carefully the issues of an invisible illness some people experience, that even we're not that aware of.

Whiskey and Rye are a particular couple, being honest I enjoyed a lot the character of Whiskey, he was an important part to Rye's life and a solid foundation to start changing her behavior, I guess I wasn't that thrilled with many decisions Rye took, some of them were childish, others insolent that I started to doubt her sanity, but all along Wade aka Whiskey was there to help her through everything.

The love story is an interesting one, at the beginning I was really frustrated with Rye, but I guess it was the point, she was living recklessly and that was going to some point affect her romance life that is when Wade enters into her life, she needs to re think what is she doing to start taking better decisions that don't affect badly others.

This couple had lot of things in common and whiskey being one of the most important of them, I thought they were on the verge of being alcoholics (a bad joke, but to be honest I've never seen so much alcohol in a book before) but that was a link to their relationship and passion.

I wait impatiently to see what this author has for the future, overall it was a good story I really enjoyed, and I can't wait to see more about Liam, Isla and Adriana but between us, I want Adriana with the guy that was in the New Year's Eve party! (Is not a spoiler and once you read the book you'll understand) Meanwhile i recommend you this book yes!

*I received an arc copy in exchange of an honest review*

A self-published author by night and all around busybody by day, Sasha is an international baby, born in gorgeous South Africa. Her cultured lifestyle is one that many don’t get to experience. When she’s not preoccupied with reading romance novels, she’s hashing out new ways to translate a titillating and libidinous scene onto a page.

miércoles, 14 de septiembre de 2016

Cover Reveal: Heat Wave by Karina Halle

We are very excited to bring you the cover for the upcoming standalone novel HEAT WAVE from NEW YORK TIME Bestselling Author Karina Halle. HEAT WAVE is a new alluring forbidden romance you do not want to miss releasing on November 3rd.

SYNOPSISThey say when life closes one door, another one opens. This door happens to lead to paradise. And a man I can never, ever have. Still grieving the loss of her sister who died two years ago, the last thing Veronica "Ronnie" Locke needed was to lose her job at one of Chicago’s finest restaurants and have to move back in with her parents. So when a window of opportunity opens for her – running a kitchen at a small Hawaiian hotel – she’d be crazy not to take it. The only problem is, the man running the hotel drives her crazy: Logan Shephard. It doesn’t matter that he’s got dark brown eyes, a tall, muscular build that’s sculpted from daily surfing sessions, and a deep Australian accent that makes your toes curl. What does matter is that he’s a grump. Kind of an asshole, too. And gets under Ronnie’s skin like no one else. But the more time Ronnie spends on the island of Kauai, falling in love with the lush land and its carefree lifestyle, the closer she gets to Logan. And the closer she gets to Logan, the more she realizes she may have pegged him all wrong. Maybe it’s the hot, steamy jungles or the invigorating ocean air, but soon their relationship becomes utterly intoxicating. There’s just one major catch. The two of them together would incite a scandal neither Ronnie, nor her family, would ever recover from. Forbidden, Illicit, off-limits – sometimes the heat is worth surrendering to, even if you get burned.        


          Halle Headshot
Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Racing the Sun, Sins & Needles and over 25 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books. Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK. Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more. 


New Release and Review: Confessed by Nicola Rendell



Lucy Burchett is the heiress to a notoriously disastrous family, and she's left home for good. But when she runs a big, black pickup off the road, totaling it, she finds herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with the driver. He's got a body to die for and a hair-trigger temper. Vince Russo looks like a felon, but he's also pretty funny. He’s on the lam from the cops… and a psychopathic, Russian mob boss who wants to put his balls on a barbeque. Literally.
After a night of ill-advised cocktails and bathroom-wrecking sex, Vince just can't get Lucy off his mind. But he's got plans to rob her. And Lucy’s life is about to get a little bit criminal too.
But can a bad boy and a good girl really escape from their troubles together? Can they trust each other at all?
In the steady march of disasters that follow them west, they fight and they laugh. They tease and they’re tender. They’re either oil and water, or chocolate and peanut butter.
Except, they can’t run from the real world forever. And there’s a hell of a surprise in store for both of them…
To the reader: Confessed is a standalone featuring Lucy, who readers met as the best friend in Professed. Both are stand alones and do not need to be read together. Be advised, things get super dirty in this book. The sex is explicit, and the language is rude. It’s an erotic love story with fury. Other tasters’ notes: Bobby pins. Peculiar motels. Horses. Motorcycles. Aiding and abetting. Great Smoky Mountains. New Mexico.

Purchase Links

If you read my review of Professed, you will know that I said I was going to give another try to this author because of the potential I saw. And believe me Nicola blew my mind with Confessed in a way I can't explain.

My words won't be enough to express how much I love this book. Between Vince's mouth (what he said jajaj) and Lucy's thoughts... yeah I enjoyed that criminal ride jajaj because this book could be the definition of a good combination of fun, suspense and erotic!

The humour between these two was what hooked me up at the beginning! I adore when I can laugh with the characters in a book, I love people with sense of humor and this one, sweet baby, I felt it.

This is a book about the wild side! Vince is a bad boy. A sweet and sexy bad boy. And Lucy was the good girl with the wild vein in her body! These couple complimented each other in such a way. The soft edges of Vince with the wild edges of Lucy made this book something absolutely adorable to read. The way she felt about life, oh boy, Vince totally got it and if you read the book you will know what I am talking about.

I guess that's it. I like the bad boys with the soft heart, and let me tell you Vince is one of those.

What I absolutely adored about this book is how is written and how the author developed the story. I swear, at times it felt like I had a movie in my mind, every situation with these guys were something to enjoy to laugh until I was on the verge of tears. Also how the author build the characters was convenient to how the story was progressing, despise how fast everything happens... because it was probably in a few weeks where things happened, the author lets you soak in the story so you feel like it's happening for a long time. I loved how in every chapter I discovered a new layer of Vince and Lucy, we really can get to know them, not just the superficial parts. Among other things, I liked how she gives us a heroine that keeps the surprises at every situation happening in the book. And the most important thing for me, they didn't beat around the bush.

What they felt, and how they felt... that was it. No hesitations, no second thoughts. Unfiltered feelings and pure desire and love! These two are really dirty and the chemistry is off the charts!!!! There is a quote that stuck with me: “It’s nothing without you. Some things, they’re just fucking meant to be. You and me, that’s one of them.” Could you guess who said it? Vince or Lucy? Well, I'll leave you with it because you have to enjoy this from beggining to end! Seriously, this book is emotional, not the kind of sad/emotional more like I WANT TO SHOW MY LOVE TO EVERYONE kind of emotional, this book had me smiling all the time. The soft heart of Lucy and the rough edges and soft spots of Vince... can I say it one more time? I LOVED IT, completely.

I guess it's true when they say, sometimes the good things come to an end, because when I was at the last chapter, I fucking cried like a river. I wanted to keep reading about them, their adventures, the new chapter of their lives, sexy Vince, etc... now, I'm left with the biggest smile on my face and heart becasue this is one of the books you never forget in your entire life!

PS: The cover? FUCKING FANTASTIC, Nicola knows the game!!!!

*arc in exchange of an honest review*



Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.