SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews

Well there is not much to say abut me. I love coffee and books and if I can drink a fresh hot coffee while reading even better:)

I started to review a couple years ago and I still loving it. I love the book community and met many awesome people along the way. I'm looking forward to connect to even more of you awesome people out there and of course continue to discover more great books.

You can also find me at my blog over at SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews . And on Goodreads 

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Blog Tour: The Watson Girl by Leslie Wolfe with Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Leslie Wolfe’s The Watson Girl. We will have info about the book and author, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

 

A GRIPPING SERIAL KILLER THRILLER

An entire family is murdered and, by a quirk, a young girl is left unharmed. For fifteen years, she believed the killer had been caught, and he’s now on death row, awaiting execution. While trying to be content with her adoptive family, she’s living in relentless uncertainty and the fear of remembering what really happened that night when she was five years old. She’s The Watson Girl.  

A therapist has asked her to participate in regression session treatments to attempt to bring back those lost memories. The closer she gets to the truth, however, the less time she has to remain alive. Now, the real killer is going to silence her, before she can remember the details of that horrifying night, when she was an innocent witness.  

Laura Watson is young, she’s beautiful, and she’s a serial killer's loose end.  

Join the smart, relentless, and short-fused FBI Special Agent Tess Winnett and her team in a heart-stopping search for the serial killer who has managed to stay hidden for many years. Explore the inner workings of the murderer’s mind, and find out what motivates such predatory, blood-lusting behavior, while following every twist and turn of an existence spent taking lives.   Laura Watson’s family was murdered fifteen years ago. That was only the beginning. His beginning. If you’re the apple of his eye, you’re already dead. Special Agent Tess Winnett will hold nothing back to stop the killer before he takes another innocent life. She never fails, no matter what’s at stake. Even her own life.  

The best-selling author of Dawn Girl is back with another suspenseful, gripping thriller. If you’re a fan of David Baldacci and James Patterson, you will enjoy Leslie Wolfe.

 

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Bestselling author Leslie Wolfe is passionate about writing fiction, despite spending a significant number of years climbing the corporate ladder. Leaving the coveted world of boardrooms for the blissful peace of the Florida-based "Wolves’ den," Leslie answers one true calling: writing.   Leslie’s novels break the mold of traditional thrillers. Fascinated by technology and psychology, Leslie brings extensive background and research in these fields, that empower and add texture to a signature, multi-dimensional, engaging writing style.   Leslie released the first novel, Executive, in October 2011. It was very well received, including inquiries from Hollywood. Since then, Leslie published numerous novels and enjoyed growing success and recognition in the marketplace. Among Leslie’s most notable works, The Watson Girl (2017) was recognized for offering a unique insight into the mind of a serial killer and a rarely seen first person account of his actions, in a dramatic and intense procedural thriller. Leslie enjoys engaging with readers every day and would love to hear from you.

 

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Blog Tour: Not Through Loving You by Patricia Preston with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Patricia Preston’s Not Through Loving You. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

 

 

In the Southern town of Lafayette Falls, a new life brings together a woman with everything to lose and a doctor with everything to prove.   When a sickly infant is surrendered at the Lafayette Falls Medical Center, and orphaned soon after, pediatrician Aaron Kendall arranges to adopt him. After a painful divorce, the busy baby doc is about to realize his own dream of becoming a father when the baby’s beautiful estranged aunt turns up. She doesn't exactly approve of the Kendall bachelor pad, complete with Aaron's cranky dad and wacky brother, forcing Aaron to form a risky alliance with her. Country singer-songwriter Lia Montgomery barely knew her half-sister, but she's determined her tiny nephew goes to a good home. If only she fit the bill herself, but her stressful life on the road is no place for a baby. Yet despite her misgivings, as she gets to know Aaron, she realizes the smart and sexy doctor is everything a child could want in a dad—and more unsettling, everything she's ever hoped for in a man. After all she's put him through, is it too late to form a family—and maybe put a song in the good doctor's heart?

 

 

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Lia looked into Aaron Kendall’s irate blue eyes. She hadn’t expected handsome. She had thought he would be older, bald on top, definitely glasses, reserved with an adoring chubby wife at his side. She had pictured them as a sweet couple who were thrilled by the prospect of having a son and who would give Candace’s unwanted baby the home he deserved. How could she have been so wrong? “All right. Tonight.” She needed time to think through this latest wrinkle in her life. “I’m staying at the Lansdale Hotel. There’s a small restaurant in the hotel. We can meet there.” She glanced at his hand that was still on top of hers. He was the kind of guy who was available because that’s the way he wanted it. Why else would he be single? He was attractive. Tall with the lean, athletic build of a man who was no stranger to physical activity. The deep crow’s feet on the sides of his eyes revealed that he was in his mid to late thirties. He had a little scar on the side of his chin. She wondered how he got it. She wondered why his wife had left him, and when she met his gaze, she wondered if he realized they were close enough to kiss. “I’ll see you at eight.” He released her hand and stepped back. The tension rolled off him in waves. “It would be good if your sister joined us as well.” “Yes, that would be good,” she said before she slipped inside the Jag. She let down the window. “Unfortunately, Candace is dead.” She left Aaron Kendall standing speechless in his driveway. Four days ago, that news had left her speechless, too, when a scruffy girl named Kelly had shown up on her doorstep with a duffel bag containing Candace’s belongings as well as a box holding her ashes.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Patricia Preston is a Mississippi author who writes witty mainstream historical and contemporary romance as well as humorous short stories. She won the William Faulkner Award for Short Fiction, the Lone Star Writing Competition for Historical Romance, and Harlequin’s World’s Best Romances Short Story Competition. Besides working as a medical office manager, she has also worked as a librarian. She loves the atmosphere of small towns but would love to live in New Orleans or Nashville, her favorite cities. Her other interests include history, cooking, photography, and getting together with friends and family. She is happiest when she is in her writing cave with a glass of sweet iced tea and ideas flowing. Readers can visit her website at patricia-preston.com, fine her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.
 
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Primeday order

Forgot to show what I got on primeda?

What did you all get?

 

Midnight, Texas Book Series by Charlaine Harris.

 


Super excited to stat this Amazon: http://amzn.to/2vbIJZI

Blog Tour: Hidden Hearts by Olivia Dade with Excerpt and Giveaway

http://amzn.to/2t8hEoP

 

Today’s stop is for Olivia Dade’s Hidden Hearts. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

An Admirer With A Secret . . .   Mary Higgs could be the poster girl for the buttoned-up librarian. She follows the rules. Stays ʼtil closing. Her kindness and dedication to her patrons is legendary. But those patrons have no idea what she’s typing to the mysterious shut-in who emailed the library needing a library card three months ago . . . When the elusive Miles O’Connor shows up, he’s no invalid. A year ago, he was the gleaming, ab-sational star of the small screen. Then came the accident. Now he’s a wounded recluse with a pizza habit and fears so unshakable that only the thought of losing Mary to an online date could lure him out of his cabin. Soon their email rapport has turned into weekends on the couch, watching tearjerkers and driving each other insane with red-hot makeout sessions. But as the desire grows and their horizons expand, the life that brought them together might not be enough for either of them . . .

 

 

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“Angie, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, please stop.” “Oh, hi, Mary.” Once again, Angie minimized her browser window in one smooth movement. “I have no idea what you mean.” “You want to find me a boyfriend, so you’re attempting to figure out what sort of man I’d prefer. His race. His height. His…um, other qualifications. Since you know I’d object, you’re going about it in a really roundabout and confusing way. And since you’re you, many of your questions have involved”—Mary lowered her voice from a whisper to a mere thread of sound—“personal endowments.” “Personal endowments?” Angie kept her voice low, too. “That’s the most genteel euphemism for penises I’ve ever heard.” With an effort, Mary resisted sharing the other terms she’d used for that area in the past. Such as, well, “that area.” Or “privates.” Or “man parts.” “I’m not looking for anyone. And if I change my mind, I can conduct the search myself.” Pleased with both her restraint and her uncharacteristic assertiveness, she smiled at her boss. “But thank you for thinking of me.” Angie’s eyes widened in appeal. “Come on, Mary. As far as I know, you haven’t been on a second date in months. Maybe a year.” “Umm…” She shifted from foot to foot. “Two years.” “And I know you. You’re not a one-night-stand sort of woman, so that means you’re experiencing an epic dry spell. Under the circumstances, what could a little online dating hurt?” An involuntary flinch drew Mary up against the doorway. “Online dating? No. No online dating. I’ve heard so many horror stories, Angie, I can’t even tell you.” “You’re a sensible woman. And I’d be happy to vet any contenders before you met them. So would all of our friends.” Angie clicked to maximize a window, and a colorful, half-completed form suddenly appeared. “Besides, it would be so easy. You already have a profile.” Mary covered her face again and spoke through her fingers. “Angie. Please tell me you didn’t.” “I thought you needed a little nudge.” A gentle hand patted her arm. “And I was delighted to be the bearer of good nudges. Especially since you’re the sweetest woman I know. You deserve an amazing man in your bed. Or an amazing woman, I suppose.” “Man,” she mumbled. “Oh, good.” Angie sounded pleased. “That’s what I chose for the profile.” “Again, I appreciate your thinking of me.” She dropped her hands and did her best to appear stern. “But I’m not looking for someone in my bed.” “How about someone across a dinner table? Or beside you at a movie theater?” With a sigh, Mary admitted, “That sounds nice.” “I know you’re a strong, independent woman who doesn’t mind being single. If you want me to delete your profile, I will.” Angie met her gaze directly. “But I’d love to see you give this a shot. I promise you, I wouldn’t encourage you to do anything unsafe. You’re my coworker and friend, and I’d never put you in harm’s way.” “I know.” And she did know. Angie had a huge heart and endless reserves of loyalty for the people she loved. Also a strong streak of recklessness, but Mary had grown to love that too. As far as Mary was concerned, her boss should serve as a model for timid women everywhere. “And have you considered the Singles Skydiving event we saw in the paper yesterday?” Well, maybe not a model, exactly. More like inspiration, tempered by common sense. Heavily tempered, until death-defying feats were no longer involved. “I might be willing to try online dating. But if you try to sling a backpack on me and shove me off a plane, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave.” Mary raised her brows at Angie. “And you know I’m a woman of my word.” Angie snorted. “So dramatic. You’ve been hanging out with Sarah too much.” “Most likely.” A smile spread across her face at the thought of her best friend. “Her mannerisms were bound to rub off sooner or later.” “So you’ll keep this profile?” Angie’s head tilted toward the computer screen. “I’ll keep a profile,” Mary corrected. “Not necessarily yours. Heaven only knows what you said in it.” “Not much. Just that you’re lovely, intelligent, hardworking, and sweeter than any of them deserve. Also that you appreciate men in a rainbow of delicious colors.” She came closer to the monitor, curious what else her boss had entered into the form. “For pity’s sake, Angie. I have never, not once in my life, described myself as ‘Beyoncé’s more beautiful and talented twin.’ I don’t look anything like her!” If only. That sort of effortless glamour and polish had eluded Mary her entire life. Angie shrugged. “Just trying to approximate your babeliness in a way most people would understand.” “What about the ‘more talented’ bit?” Mary gaped at her. “Don’t you remember that program last year? The one where I sang Christmas carols?” A small wince creased Angie’s forehead. “Talent doesn’t have to mean singing. Which is a good thing, in your case. I think we attracted feral cats from miles around that night.” Leaning over Angie, Mary wrestled the mouse from her boss’s grip and exited the form without saving. “I’ll fill one of these profiles out on my break. By myself.” Angie’s lower lip poked out. “But I was enjoying myself.”

 

 

 

 

 

Olivia Dade grew up an undeniable—and proud—nerd, prone to ignoring the world around her as she read any book she could find. Her favorite stories, though, were always romances. As an adult, she earned an M.A. in American history and worked in a variety of jobs that required her to hide her bawdy interior under a demure exterior: Colonial Williamsburg interpreter, high school teacher, academic tutor, and (of course) librarian. Finally, though, she realized the call of the hussy could no longer be denied. So now she writes contemporary romantic comedy with plenty of sex, banter, and nerdery. When not writing, she cooks alongside her husband, dabbles in photography, and tries to hide her collection of throbbing-intensive romances from her curious daughter. Visit her on the web at oliviadade.com.

 

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Reading progress update: I've read 530 out of 530 pages.

Heir of Fire - Sarah J. Maas

Finished it last night and OMFG.... I don't even know what to say right now 

 

Reading progress update: I've read 397 out of 530 pages.

Heir of Fire - Sarah J. Maas

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Feature Friday for Lily Luchesi's Last Rites with Excerpt and Interview

 

Today for “Feature Friday” let us welcome the wonderful Lily Luchesi with her book Last Rites, the 5th book in the Paranormal Detectives series.

We will have info about the book and author. Plus we have a interview with Lily and a great excerpt from the book. 

Make sure to check everything out and go and show her some love and add her books to your TBR  ;) 

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

 

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Power is the deadliest desire. With Leander put to rest and the Paranormal Investigative Division taken care of by the Coven Mistress, Danny and Angelica are finally ready to take some time for themselves while Angelica gets used to her new role as the Empress and they make their relationship official. When people close to Angelica are murdered by what seems to be a rogue vampire, their sabbatical is cut short in order for her to find the perp and execute him or her. But this is no ordinary vampire. When the truth is revealed and secrets come to light, it will prove to be Danny's biggest test of faith yet, and Angelica's reckoning of her past, present, and future. Most of all it will raise a single question: just what makes a monster?

 

 

 

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Hello Lily. Thank you for taking the time to stop in and chat with us, it is lovely to have you. 

 

Does writing energize or exhaust you?

Both. It really depends on the scene. If I have a really good action scene I will be bouncing off the walls. However, I have written about abuse and panic attacks, which always leave me exhausted when I’m done. I suffer from multiple forms of mental illness, so writing about the things I experience can be draining. In book four of my Paranormal Detectives Series, Right To Silence, a character is kidnapped and has severe flashbacks that leave her an anxiety-ridden mess. But I love it; the darkness is what I hope makes my characters relatable.

 

How did publishing your first book change your process of writing?

I learned a lot about editing. I learned that editing as I write decreases the amount of time I have to spend once the first draft is done to self-edit. That’s the most important thing that changed for me. I have a cleaner first draft and can eliminate an extra draft, which frees up two weeks of my time.

 

What kind of research do you do, and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book?

I am a big fan of “write what you know”. Most of my locations in my Paranormal Detectives Series I have either visited or lived in, except for England. My research could possibly make me wind up in jail one day. A lot of questions about biology related to murder, mostly.

For my upcoming release in December, Never Again, I had to do more research than ever before on WWII, Germany, Judiasm, and what life was like in the 1940s. It was fun but extremely hard to read when it came to some of the actions of the Nazis.

 

If you didn’t write, what would you do instead?   Are there any other talents you are hiding from us?

I would either be a child psychologist or a professional cook. I love psychology and I LOVE food. I have been in the kitchen since I was a toddler and cooking is something I do to relax.

Music is another love of mine, but I have little talent for it.

 

Do you read your book reviews? How do you deal with bad or good ones?

I only read reviews if the reviewer tells me to go take a look. My ARC readers, also known as my Vamplets, always send me their reviews and I love reading them. They don’t give me all five stars, which is what I love.

Occasionally I will see a not so great review, I have had people write and tell me they couldn’t finish a book, and that’s okay. No piece of art can please everyone. I’m just grateful that I have readers at all!

 

This was fun, again thank you so much for taking the time to chat. You rock!

 

 

 

 

“I have watched you for two centuries, unable to approach until your destiny had been fulfilled.” Angelica was dumbstruck. She had known much of this information, how Augustus’ line had gone back to mortality, but he had watched her? Since birth? Stalked her family until the prophecy was fulfilled? “First of all, that was quite creepy of you. Second, why did you wait? It has been three years since I was fully turned. What stayed your hand?” she asked. Drinking from his chalice, he paused. “At first, I lost you after the battle in Scotland. And when I found you again, I could not be seen by Hell’s Lieutenant. I betrayed Lucifer, by accepting his contract and then breaking it with my own immortality. Once you neutralized Leander, I knew I could come to you as I wished, without threat of attack.” That did not sound right. “So again you hid, instead of helping me fight off Hell? Leander has been dead for months. The only sign I received from you was a trail of dead mortals!” He smirked, dark eyes glinting. “You were touted as the best hunter on Earth. I just wanted to see how good you were. I had not expected you to bring me prey.” Angelica shot up from her chair. “Don’t you dare even think about touching Danny!” Emperor or not, all-powerful or not, he could easily be decapitated, and she would not let herself forget that fact. His neck was no more protected than hers. “I have my Consort, and he is being held in your little room up there. If you want any sort of allegiance with me, you will leave him alone. If you even attempt to harm one hair on his head, I will finish the job Livia failed at!” In a flash, faster than even she could perceive, she was pushed up against the wall, next to the painting of Livia. Augustus was holding his hands on either side of her head, leering down at her, eyes so deep she felt as though he could sense her every thought. He was not touching her, yet she had never felt more trapped. Her heart rate increased and she felt her breathing speed up. She was unsure if it was from fear or something else she could not bear to name. Angelica was used to being in complete control, even when facing Hell’s Lieutenant or demonic witches. The only time she ever voluntarily gave up that control was to Danny, whom she trusted implicitly. Here, with Augustus, she felt as though all her control had been shattered. She despised this feeling, but knew she was, at the moment, powerless to stop it. “The fact that you dare to threaten me shows that you are indeed my true Empress. Beautiful, strong, and stubborn.” His voice was a low growl in her ear, and she felt his breath tickling her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His thrall was incredible, and she could not believe that she could also do this with just a few words one day. His voice was silky and dark, undoing her mind there in that comfortable dungeon. She dug her nails into her palms, briefly cutting the skin, grounding her to reality. She must not allow him to glamour her, or else it would be over. “I am not yours,” she spat at him. “I never will be. I don’t give a damn who my ancestor was, that does not predispose me to be your property!” He shook his head. “Oh, my dear, you are not my property. You are my equal. My only equal on this Earth.” That dark part of her mind, the part that had always sought power, was intrigued by the thought that she was the equal of the first true vampire. The rest of her was appalled that he would consider himself equal to her. He lad left a trail of bodies in his wake for miles across Chicago, and Lord only knew how many more in all the long years he’d lived. Any vampire who had to kill for food any time after the nineteenth century was evil, plain and simple. “Do you know why I have to feed so much, so often?” His voice was low, nought but a purr. “It is because none can satisfy me for long aside from my Empress. I have just consumed two large goblets of blood. And yet you can feel, I am much colder than you are, and you have not had blood since you wakened.” He touched her gently, running icy cold fingers along her cheek, down her neck, stopping at her pulse, which quickened at his touch. He was cold, far colder than she had ever been. “That is not true,” she said, barely able to get the words out. “I am fully satisfied by Danny’s blood: one pint, twice a day.” “Liar,” his voice slithered into her ear. “You cannot take that much blood from a mortal daily. He would be dead after a week.” His fingers pressed harder into her throat, and she knew he felt the Undead blood rushing in her veins just as much as she could hear his. “You have no idea what it feels like to be truly sated. Indeed, it has been so long, I almost forgot myself.” Angelica knew what was coming, and she felt him move back, just for a second, giving her enough time to move away from his proximity. If asked, she would say she did not remember why she stayed put, except for the fact that she was genuinely curious about what was going to happen next. With one cold hand, Augustus held her head to the side and sank his fangs deep into her long neck. She felt it all in slow motion: the first initial pain of tearing flesh, the shock of her blood being drawn into another’s body, and the rush of pleasure she received from those two sensations mixed together. She gasped at the sensations, the pleasure-pain. She had never been bitten fully, just a nip here and there from perps trying to take her blood and the powers it held for their own. This was an entirely new sensation rushing in her heart and mind, her body betraying her thoughts. All she wanted was to lose herself in this feeling, but her mind grounded her to the situation, barely. She felt him chuckle against her skin before he pulled his mouth away from her neck, licking the blood that dripped down her creamy flesh. When he faced her, she saw through glazed eyes that her dark blood covered his lips, sending a jolt of heat to her stomach. Traitor, she thought viciously to her body. His hand still held her face, but it was no longer as cold as marble. It was warm, as warm as Danny was when he held her. It was hard to believe that she had done this, that her Undead blood had given life. “Nothing more invigorating than the lifeblood of your soul mate,” he said. “Do you want to know how it feels?” Yes. “No.” He laughed again. “You are not very convincing, Angelica.” He held her at the waist, and his touch was feather light, but with the promise of brute strength there in his lean frame. She knew he could kill her with a look if he wanted to. The idea terrified and thrilled her. He held his other hand up, letting her go for a second to undo the cuffs of his jacket and shirt sleeve, exposing his wrist. Evidently, he did not trust her near his throat. Smart man. “Taste and you will understand,” he said, holding his wrist close to her mouth. Blood was power. His powers lay in what ran through his veins, and he was a fool to offer even a taste of that power to the Empress. Yes, she wanted a taste, but not to feel life. She wanted to feel his power in her veins. Feeling her fangs elongate with little mental encouragement, she leaned forward and placed them over his veins, piercing the skin. She tasted his blood, warmed thanks to her, and it was like electricity and fire, and like the finest wine it sent a warmth throughout her body. However, this was not a new feeling for her. This was how Danny’s blood made her feel every day, every time she tasted him: satisfied and lively. Alive. She moved her mouth from his veins and went to speak, but before she could get a word out, his lips covered hers, mingling their blood together in one incredibly hot kiss. The feeling of tasting her own blood was somewhat uncomfortable, but she could not deny the perverse pleasure she was feeling. It was not unlike how she felt when she kissed Danny after drinking from his veins. Danny! Her mind struggled to get out of the deep thrall Augustus had her under, and she felt her vampire claws dig into his arm, tearing the fabric of his expensive clothes in the process. Growling in pain, he moved back quickly, dark eyes burning red. Just red irises, not like the black and red of a normal vampire. Angelica made a note of that, right before she noted the fact that she was most likely about to be murdered in a second. Surprising her, he simply massaged the wounds that were already healed. His blood dripped from her fingertips, deepening the red of the carpet. “Cunning, using such a physical moment to attack me. You intrigue me, Angelica,” he said, his eyes returning to normal. “You glamour me into being pliant, and yet you call me cunning? You tried to fool the Empress! I might intrigue you, but you impress me,” she replied, maintaining the outward calm and in control appearance she had always found to serve her well. To drive in her blase outer appearance, she licked his blood from her fingertips. He did not respond, and was even so bold as to turn his back on her as he pressed a button in the wall. Not a moment later, the thralled maid came to the dungeon door. “Please escort the Empress to the exit. And make sure you release her...Consort.” If it was possible, he managed to imbue that one word with dripping sarcasm. Angelica arched an eyebrow. “You are releasing us?” “A true Empress cannot also be a captive, and by releasing your little mortal plaything, I believe I can expect a bit more cooperation and camaraderie from you than if I simply drained him to a husk as I would very much like to.” He smirked. “We are not done here, Angelica.” “No, we are not,” she agreed. She turned, but he called her back. “Just one more thing, my dear: at no point since we met have I ever consciously or otherwise tried to glamour you. Indeed, if I tried, I would find myself unsuccessful. Neither of us can put the other in thrall. It is impossible. You cannot glamour your soul mate.”

 

 

 

 

Lily Luchesi is a young author/poet born in Chicago, Illinois, now residing in Los Angeles, California. Ever since she was a toddler her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things "dark". At two she became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is the award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series, published by Vamptasy Publishing. She also has short stories included in the following anthologies: Death Love Lust, Naughty Bedtime Stories: In Three Words, Naughty Bedtime Stories: Four You, Lurking in the Shadows, Lurking in the Mind, Black Magic, Weirdbook #35, and Beautiful Nightmares. When she's not writing, she's going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading manga. And drinking copious amounts of coffee.

 

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Review: Down Home Cowboy (Copper Ridge #8) by Maisey Yates

Down Home Cowboy: A Western Romance Novel (Copper Ridge) - Maisey Yates

 

 

 

 

This Texas cowboy has come home to Copper Ridge to put down roots…but will he risk his heart again?

Asked where he'd be at this point in life, Cain Donnelly would have said anywhere but Copper Ridge, Oregon, living with his estranged brothers. But since his wife abandoned them, both he and his daughter, Violet, are in need of a fresh start, so he's back to claim his share of the family ranch. Local baker Alison Davis is a delicious temptation, but she's also his daughter's mentor and new boss. That makes her off-limits…until she offers a no-strings deal that no red-blooded cowboy could resist.

Alison has worked tirelessly to rebuild her life, and she won't jeopardize her hard-won independence. Especially if it also complicates Cain's relationship with Violet. But with Cain offering a love she never thought was possible, Alison has to find the courage to let her past go…or watch her future ride away for good.

 

 

 

3 ½ ★

 

This is the 8th book in the Copper Ridge series but it can be easily read as a standalone. I have not read any of the previous books and did not feel like I missed something. Which is always good. Most know, that I enjoy Cowboy books among Rockstar and Hockey books , when it comes to romance books, so it was really way to like this book. This was the first book I read by Maisey Yates but I plan on reading more of her books. I liked the writing style it had a nice flow to it and was easy to follow and get lost in. I did enjoy the story and the characters for the most part, some parts were a bit annoying but nothing major that made me want to stop reading. I l liked the back story of the characters and it made us really see why they are the way they are. While most of the story was easy to predict it still was very enjoyable to read. I enjoyed all the side characters as well even if I did not know that from the precious books. I thought they had just the right amount of page-time not too much or little. Overall. Great read and looking forward to read more by this author.

I rate it 3 ½ ★

 

 

 

 

*I received a free copy from the publisher and chose to leave a voluntary review. Thank you!*

 

 

Available NOW 

 

  

 

 

 

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Maisey Yates lives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiseled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. She feels the epic trek she takes several times a day from her office to her coffee maker is a true example of her pioneer spirit. In 2009, at the age of twenty-three Maisey sold her first book.

Since then it’s been a whirlwind of sexy alpha males and happily ever afters, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Maisey divides her writing time between dark, passionate category romances set just about everywhere on earth and light sexy contemporary romances set practically in her back yard.

She believes that she clearly has the best job in the world.

 

Links

 

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Amazon

Snoopydoo sigi

Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/review-home-cowboy-copper-ridge-8-maisey-yates

How to do Book Clubs: 5 reasons to join book clubs + 6 book clubs for July

Reblogged from BookLikes:

 

Jenn presents book club's insights and some useful tips and tricks for creating, customizing and maintaining a Book Club using BookLikes.

 

Out of many we've picked these

5 reasons why it's great to join book clubs:

 

1. You chat about books

Reviewing is great but it's refreshing to immerse into the book debate.

2. Deadlines

You know the never-ending TBR list, right? Having a deadline date is a great excuse to lock yourself in the room to actually finish up a book for the book club meeting/posting.

3. You read outside your comfort zone

You will open the books you would never read otherwise, e.g from the genres you though you wouldn't enjoy.

4. You make other people read your beloved titles

Here's your chance to introduce your faves to other readers.

5. You meet people

Who said that reading should be done solo? Book club reading is buddy reading. Let's do it together and have fun!

 

Please scroll down to find Book Clubs running at BookLikes in July. All readers wishing to join and participate in the buddy read(s) are more than welcome!

 

Let's do Book Clubs together!

 

*

Post by Jenn from Murder by Death

 

Creating, customising and maintaining a Book Club using BookLikes

 

 

I’m still a novice myself at using BookLikes Book Club functionality, but I thought I’d write up something about how to set one up, make it your own and maintain it as well as share my thoughts about my experience so far.

 

I’ve created a fake group for the purposes of this post, and most of the screenshots will represent what the creator of a book club will see; I’ll try to note when there are differences, and I’ve taken a couple of screenshots from a non-admin user’s perspective as well.

 

Both as a user and creator, you can find the Book Clubs in the Dashboard menu, under, obviously enough, “Book Clubs”:

 

 

This takes you to the Book Club Discovery page, and you’ll see here a list of current book clubs:

 

 

I’ve highlighted two sections here:  the first, along the top, is useful for discovering new book clubs you might like to join, because it allows you to filter the list of clubs by the language the club is set up to use and to sort the results by club members (how many members the group has), Book number (how many books they’ve read so far), or date added.  Whichever of the three you choose to filter by you can further specify ascending or descending order - an up or down arrow is next to each choice.

 

The second section, headlined My Book Clubs, shows in the upper section the book clubs you’ve created, the link to create a new book club, and underneath, a list of those clubs you’ve already joined.  The next part of this post concerns creating a new book club, although anyone participating in a book club will find handy tips here too (I hope).

 

If you click on the Create a Book Club link you’re taken to the book club creation page:

 

 (This screenshot is a bit smaller, sorry - I had to shrink it to get it all in one shot.)

 

A lot of this is self-explanatory: Name is the name of your book club, of course.  But Picture might not be immediately apparent:  it’s the small picture that will display next to your book club name on the main club page.  Image size guidelines are listed; I definitely recommend adhering to the dimensional suggestions as the minimum size; I tried using smaller images and they didn’t look good at all.

 

Background picture is the large image that appears behind the book cover and user avatars on your bookclub page.  (An example of which is below.)

 

 

Description allows you to describe what kind of club you’re aiming at having:  non-fiction? science-fiction? mystery? romance?  All of the above?

 

Terms is the place you define the rules of your club - BookLikes has provided some basic ones there in the box, but if you want to add your own, you can.  Just be warned that when you start typing in that box, you’ll lose those suggested ones (that’s why they’re in the faded grey color).

 

Club language is the official language of the book club and BookLikes uses it to filter the clubs on the club page by language.  What you set here doesn’t have to be the only language welcome in the club, but it will be the only one the club will appear under.

 

Private allows you to make the group open to the public (No) or open to invitation only (Yes).  If you mark the club private, I believe it still shows up in the list, and people can request admission, so it’s private, but not hidden.

 

Choosing Yes for Public Voting for Next Book truly makes the club a group effort, and a democratic one.  Instead of one of the admins choosing the next group read, this allows an ongoing public submission for title suggestions and a voting function; the admin still has to set the next book and read dates, but can do so by public opinion. 

 

Once you’ve completed the form, click Create Book Club and you’re now the proud creator of a new book club:

 

 

(Clicking edit again, will allow you to edit the details of the club, or delete it - the delete club button appears in the lower right corner of the page.)

 

If you’re joining a book club, not creating one, the screen you’ll see will look like this:

 

 

Both screens have the tabs across the top:  Club, Members, Previous Books and Next Books.  The next section differs:  Admins can add next book and edit the group, while non-admin users can leave club if you find it’s not the right fit for you.  The leave club button is also located in the lower left corner.  (Creators can’t leave their own creation - Dr. Frankenstein tried that once and it didn’t end well.)

 

I’ve also highlighted one of the notification settings for book clubs - this one allows you to turn on or off the notifications for new members joining the group.  Notifications for new posts and discussions is on a different page.

 

If you chose to allow voting you’ll see, under the Next Books tab, the input fields where you can add books and vote on them (admin and non-admin members alike):

 

Add proposition is the field where you can suggest a book - it works exactly the same as the general book search - enter the title, author, or ISBN/ASIN, wait for the results, and choose your book.  If it’s a book you want from your BL shelves, wait until the search results appear, then choose the Search my shelves button at the bottom of the results.  Each book appears on the list, along with a voting button and a running tally of the number of votes each book has received so far.  If you added the book, BL assumes you’re also voting for it, so each book starts with 1 vote.

 

Admins will see a slightly different layout next to each book entry:

 

 

I believe clicking remove will remove a vote (?).  Select book will choose that book for the next month’s read (or any future read, you set the dates, so you can choose several books at once) and delete will take the book out of the voting entirely.  There is no ‘end’ date to voting, so don’t think of this function as a one-time polling as much as it is an on-going, revolving suggestion list that books can move up (or down) and off of over time. 

 

As an admin/creator, once you’ve selected the book, it appears at the bottom of the page along with fields to enter the start/stop dates:

 

 

Clicking on the Start reading date and/or Finish reading date brings up the small calendar, allowing you to click to choose your dates.  Note that BL does require a Finish date and will error out if you try to leave it blank.  These dates are just a guide, however.  Make the reading time span as long or as short as you’d like.  Just remember that BL uses the dates to send notifications of upcoming reads, and moves the book from Next Read to Previous Reads after the finish date, but that’s pretty much the extent of it.

 

If you set up your club without the option of voting, then the Admin chooses the book or books using the select book search field and setting the dates in much the same way, they just don’t see the voting list at the top.

 

 

Each book (if you’ve planned ahead and chosen several, they will all be listed) has edit, delete and  show next to it for admins; non-admins just see the show button.  Edit allows you to change the dates, delete removes the book from the list, and show takes you to the main book club page

 

Now the book club is setup, the book is chosen and you’re ready to go.  From an Admin’s point of view, the only other thing you need to know how to do is, unfortunately, block members.  Spam happens to the best of us and when it does the best thing to do is quickly delete it, block the member and move on.  To delete a discussion thread or just a post, go into the thread with the spam:

 

 

If it’s just the post, use the delete post link that’s along the top of the post; if it’s a spam thread, use delete discussion, found at the top of the page.  After you’ve cleaned up the spam, use the back to club button to go back to the book club page:  

 

 

Click the Members tab:

 

 

Not incidentally, this is where you can invite new members to join your book club, but for blocking, click the manage members link.  This takes you to the membership information page:

 

 

From here you can see a list of blocked members, if there are any, and you can set admin notification for both new members and new discussions.  At the bottom of the page is a Members list, and, I have to say, I don’t know if it’s just my browser that does this (Safari/Mac) or if it’s the same with all browsers, but the layout of the members list is kinda wonky and can be hard to read; the avatars overlap.  But if you ignore that, you can see each member’s name and there are options next to each one: you can remove the user, block the user or switch on Admin functions for that user.  Admin functions include being able to delete discussions or posts but does not, unfortunately, allow them to block or remove other users.

 

The only other facet of the book clubs I’ve not yet mentioned it their link to a discussion group.  I found this a tad confusing in the beginning because all book clubs have discussion groups, but not all discussion groups are book clubs.  Book club discussion groups work exactly like the ‘other’ discussion groups and clicking on the discussion group link from any of the book club pages will take you to the book club’s discussion group.

 

The most important tip I think I can share is regarding discussions and notifications.  Maybe it’s just me, but I love the BL dashboard so much, I find I rarely leave it to go anywhere else.  I read my friends’ posts and reading status updates, and comment right then and there and it’s just too convenient.  It’s my personal theory that if there were some way to easily and gracefully incorporate discussion threads into our dashboards they would see a lot more activity.

 

But I digress; my point is that what does help is making sure your notifications are turned on for the posts and discussions you don’t want to miss.  The easiest place to do this from is the discussion thread itself:

 

 

For new discussions, you can choose all (email and dashboard flags), notification only (dashboard flags only) or none

 

For notifications about individual posts in discussion threads, you can use yes (not choosing yes means no - no notifications at all).  If you choose yes, you can then choose manual, which means you must turn notifications on in the individual threads you want to be notified of activity in, or you can use the all / notification only / none options, which work the same way as above, and apply to all comments in all threads.

 

The last feature I want to point out is one I really think is nice:  the book club page (the fancy one) collects all the recent club discussion posts and any recent blog posts book club members have made about the book and presents them all underneath the club roster and countdown.  It’s a bit difficult to get a screenshot that does it justice, but I’ve tried to, using a currently active book club, to give you an idea:

 

 

It really makes a nice one-stop dashboard for book club activity and updates automatically.

 

Well that’s pretty much it - as I said at the beginning, I’m still a newbie with book clubs but I think BookLikes has designed them really nicely, and they have great potential (especially if we get an option to integrate them into our dashboards!).  If I missed anything, and I’m sure I did, please mention it in the comments below.

 

Hope to see you all soon in a book club!  :)

 

*

 

Take a tour and join Book Clubs this July

 

TAKE A TOUR AND JOIN BUDDY READ

 

 TAKE A TOUR AND JOIN Book to Movie Book Club

 

TAKE A TOUR AND JOIN Virtual Speculation Book Club

 

TAKE A TOUR AND JOIN Series Book Club

 

TAKE A TOUR AND JOIN More historical than Fiction Book Club

 

TAKE A TOUR AND JOIN Mindfulness Books Book Club

 

Blog Tour:The Freedom Broker by KJ Howe with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for KJ Howe’s The Freedom Broker. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :)

 


 

 

 
KIDNAP & RANSOM
IN-DEPTH RESEARCH FOR CANADIAN AUTHOR’S DEBUT INTERNATIONAL THRILLER
There are twenty-five elite kidnap negotiators in the world. Only one is a woman. And she’s the best in the business. Meet Thea Paris in THE FREEDOM BROKER.
With over 40,000 reported kidnappings every year—which translates to five people every hour—the world of kidnap and ransom is taking on a newsworthy role across the globe. Displaced military and police in third world countries have no way to put food on the table, but they do have security skills, so they have turned to kidnapping as a way of making a living. Also, terrorists are using kidnapping as a fundraising enterprise, filling their coffers with over 125 million dollars since 2009. Kidnappers used to only abduct high net-worth individuals and executives of multi-national organizations. Not anymore. Journalists, aid workers, and family members of executives have now become high value targets.
Kidnapping is a growing international crisis. What tools do we have to fight against this increasing threat? There are twenty-five elite kidnap negotiators who travel to the globe’s hotspots to bring hostages home, through negotiation or recovery, and they are called response consultants or freedom brokers. Local to Toronto, author K.J. Howe has immersed herself in the world of kidnapping for the last three years, interviewing kidnap negotiators, former hostages, kidnap and ransom insurance executives, hostage reintegration experts, psychiatrists specializing in the captive’s mindset, and the Special Forces soldiers who deliver ransoms and execute rescues.
Howe’s research culminates into her debut thriller, THE FREEDOM BROKER, published by the Hachette Book Group under the Quercus imprint in the US, Canada, U.K. and many foreign territories. The book has reached attention North America wide, and has led to reviewers such as #1 NYT Bestseller James Patterson calling it “fact and fiction at its best.”
 
 
K.J. Howe’s novel has received positive and international acclaim from some of North America’s most influential mediums and authors including:
TIME Magazine called the book a “Dark Delight.”
 
#1 NYT Bestseller Lee Child endorses the book: “Razor sharp and full of you-are-there authenticity—a superb thriller.”
 
NYT Bestseller Linwood Barclay shares, “Breathless action, great characters, and convincing details make Howe’s debut a surefire rocket to the top of the lists.”
 
In The Providence Journal, USA Today Bestselling author Jon Land reviews, “The Freedom Broker is a blisteringly original, superbly crafted thriller that promises to be one of the major debuts of 2017. K.J. Howe’s gut-wrenching foray into the world of hostage negotiation turned upside down propels her straight into the league of Linda Fairstein, Tess Gerritsen, Lisa Scottoline, and Karin Slaughter, thanks to a tale framed by an emotional complexity and structural elegance both rare for the genre. As riveting as it is bracing, this is reading entertainment at its absolute best.”
 
 
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Buy Links
 
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500 feet above Kwale, Nigeria November 1st 2:30 a.m. Thea Paris knew the drill. If the mission failed, no one would retrieve her body. She’d be left to rot in the jungle, unidentified and forgotten. And that wouldn’t do. She couldn’t miss her father’s 60th celebration. Her gloved hand glided over her flak jacket and M4 with practiced ease. Night vision goggles, flares, grenades, extra magazines—all easy to access. The weapon had been tested, cleaned and oiled, ready to combat the humidity of the jungle. Pre-mission checks done. The hypnotic purr of the resurrected Hughes 500P helicopter set the tone for the operation. Black, in every sense of the word. Sound, movement, light, all kept to a minimum. They were flying Nap-of-the-Earth; low, utilizing the terrain to stay below the radar. As operational commander, she’d led her seven-man team through endless rehearsals, using a model of the targeted area. Now it was time for execution. Brown listened to Hendrix in his earbuds, his way of psyching up. Johansson stared into space, probably thinking about his pregnant wife who wasn’t happy he’d accepted this mission. Team A, following behind in the other gutted chopper, consisted of twin brothers Neil and Stewart—yep, born in Scotland—and a wizened former French Foreign Legionnaire named Jean-Luc who could outshoot them all. She’d handpicked each one from the pool of operatives at Quantum International Security. Except Rifat Asker, her boss' son. Who was staring at her. They’d known each other since they’d been kids, as their fathers were best friends. Rif had serious combat skills, but they often locked horns on methods of execution. She traced the S-shaped scar on her right cheek, a permanent reminder of Rif clashing with her brother Nikos. She pressed a special app button on her smartphone. The glucose monitor read 105. Batteries were fully charged. Perfect. Nothing screwed up a mission more than low blood sugar. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her fatigues beside her glucagon kit. Rif’s assessing gaze still focused on her. Did he suspect she had diabetes? She’d done her best to keep her illness under wraps. Competition was tough among this elite group, and she didn’t want anyone thinking she wasn’t up for the job. The pilot's voice crackled in her earpiece. "Three minutes to touchdown." "Roger that. We're green here." The second helicopter followed somewhere behind them, but the stormy sky obliterated all evidence of its existence. She wiped her damp palms on her fatigues. Rain rattled the chopper's fuselage, and the turbulence unsettled her stomach. Flying had never been her strong suit. The reduced visibility worked in their favor, but the cloying humidity and heat degraded the airtime and performance of the chopper. To compensate, they'd reduced their fuel load to stay as light as possible, but that left only a minimal buffer for problems. Rif shifted to face Brown and Johansson. "Okay, boys, let's grab this 'Oil Eagle'." The hostage, John Sampson, an oil executive based in Texas, earned high six figures to visit remote drilling sites and increase their output. Sampson had two kids, and his wife taught third grade. He coached baseball every Thursday night, but he'd missed the last ten weeks because he'd been held captive in the swamp by MEND—Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger-Delta. Seemed like every terrorist group had some catchy acronym, like they’d hired PR firms to come up with them. This Nigerian militant group wouldn’t budge from a three-million-dollar demand, and Sampson’s kidnapping insurance topped out at one mil. That left one option. Rescue. But one out of five was the success rate for extractions. "One minute until touchdown," the pilot warned. She slipped on her night vision goggles and clutched the straps anchored to the cabin walls. "You sure there's no leak?" Black camo paint emphasized the tension in the lines around Rif's eyes. "Roger that.” She concentrated on the positives—always better than bleak thoughts when descending into hellfire. They should have the element of surprise, and she’d selected a crackerjack team. Every member would put his life on the line for the others, and their combined combat experience read like the Ivy League of special ops. The pilot threaded the riverbed using the narrow view provided by the FLIR camera mounted near the skids. Flying into the thick jungle on a moonless night was far from optimal, but their intel was time sensitive. They had to get Sampson out tonight. "Thirty seconds." The pilot's warning was like a shot of caffeine injected into her veins. They’d arrived at a small clearing in the triple canopy jungle two miles from the rebel camp. A film of perspiration coated her back. Her body tingled. Alive, awake, adrenalized. "Ten seconds." The pilot raised the bird’s nose, flaring to a hover, then settled onto the grass. She nodded to her team, and they hit the ground and rolled away from the chopper. Heat emanated from the rotorwash, as their transport rose up and away. A moldy stench flooded her mouth and nose, the residual effect of endless rainy seasons. They huddled in the thick bush while the other Hughes dropped off Jean-Luc and the two Scots. She scanned the area. The choppers faded into the distance, their peculiar silhouettes showcasing the modifications for stealth. Night sounds returned. Crickets chirping, water gurgling from the nearby river bed, the ominous roar of a hippo. She checked her GPS, signaled Rif, and entered the dense foliage. Forty-two minutes to execute the rescue, rendezvous with the helicopters, and get the hell out of here. She circumnavigated the heaviest brush, then froze. A sound. Scuffling in the bushes. Her hands tightened on her M4. A sentry so close to their launch point? She glanced over her shoulder. Rif's large frame crouched two feet behind her. Brown and Johansson squatted beside him while Team A covered the rear. The shrubbery to their left rippled in the brisk breeze. Silence. A mosquito implanted itself in her neck. She ignored the sharp sting. A branch snapped. She flicked off the safety. Crunching footsteps. A shrill cry. She scanned right, left. Movement flashed in front of them at ground level. Her finger hovered beside the trigger. More footsteps. A porcupine scurried across their ingress route, its quills in full attack mode. She exhaled a long breath and gave Brown a half-smile. Dammit to hell. She’d almost shot the prickly creature, which would have blown their cover. Brown touched the rabbit's foot around his neck and nodded. Good luck charms were an operational must. She always wore the St. Barbara silver pendant her father had given her on her twelfth birthday. It hadn't let her down yet. The two teams traversed the unfriendly terrain, minimizing any disturbance of the bush. Animal sounds punctuated the night, the rainfall a constant backdrop. She scouted the path, moving cautiously in the darkness. At the edge of the ridge, she paused. Faint flames from a fire kicked her heart into overdrive. The outskirts of the MEND camp lurked below. She scoured the area. No sign of sentries along the bluff. She squeezed Rif's arm, signaling him to lead Team A down the escarpment. They’d have a rough time of it. The earth was thick, muddy, slick. Thea, Brown, and Johansson remained on the curved ridge. As commander, she needed a bird's eye view. Brown and Johansson flanked her, positioned to counter any patrolling rebels. She cloaked herself in shrubbery and settled into her hide. They'd mapped all the major landmarks from satellite images: the rebels' weapons hut perched beside the acacia trees, a large shelter to the west sequestered in the jungle, and five small buildings rooted in the southwest quadrant. Outbuilding Tango held their hostage, a quarter mile away. She waited and watched for what seemed to be an eternity, rain seeping into her shirt mixing with sweat, leaving her skin clammy and cold. Her mind went to the weirdest places during missions—she pictured this sodden landscape as an ideal backdrop for a waterproof mascara ad. A tiny shiver darted across her shoulders. The world was preternaturally still, quiet—like death had already arrived. Twenty-five precious minutes had evaporated. Not good. Precise and measured, she nestled her rifle into the overhang. Her breathing slowed. She scanned the area, pursing her lips, the familiar taste of camo grease comforting her. A soft hiss whispered in her earpiece, then Rif came on. "Going for the Eagle." Team A hovered on the outskirts of the camp. Muffled laughter echoed in the distance. A few rebels huddled by the campfire, undoubtedly trying to ward off the dampness with some kai-kai, a local palm liquor. "Six hostiles by the fire with AK-47s. You’re good to go." Her voice was barely audible. They had to assume MEND had guards posted. Double-crosses dominated the rebels' lives, making them especially paranoid. Footsteps sounded nearby. She froze. Definitely a human cadence. The soft glow of a cigarette caught her eye. A rebel headed straight for her. Time for cocktail hour. She eased her hand into her pack and pulled out the tranquilizer gun, her fingers brushing the ballistic syringe loaded with an immobilizing drug. The rebel cleared his throat and continued his patrol, oblivious. She waited, keeping her breath even, her body motionless. He stepped into range. In one motion, she twisted her body, lifted the tranquilizer gun, and fired. The rebel grunted and slapped at his neck, as if swatting an insect. Seconds later, he slumped to the ground. She scrambled over to him and poked him with the toe of her boot. No response. She crushed his cigarette into the wet earth and secured his hands and feet with plastic cuffs, slapping duct tape on his mouth. They should be long gone before he woke. Thea's skin was slick as the rain continued to batter the earth. She glanced at her stopwatch—another four and a half minutes had passed since Team A had entered the camp. Glancing to the southwest, she waited for Rif and his team to return with the hostage, anxious to hear the code “gusher,” meaning the hostage had been found. Minutes ticked by, and nothing. Her nerves were tighter than the strings on a Stradivarius. Her radio buzzed. Rif's measured voice came through. "Dry well. The Eagle isn't in Tango." She sucked in air. Intel from two hours ago had confirmed Sampson’s location in that outbuilding. He must’ve been moved. "Abort." It killed her to do this, but she couldn't endanger her team members' lives by ordering an exploration of the camp. There wasn’t enough time. They'd tried—and failed. The intel was bad. End of story. End of mission. Silence greeted her. Dammit. Rif was a pro; he knew to respond to her command. "Abort mission. Confirm." She scanned the camp. A few more rebels joined the group around the fire. Rif's voice filled the silence. "Give me three minutes, over." No way. Three minutes was a lifetime. They needed to leave immediately to meet the choppers. "I repeat, abort mission, over." Silence. Her earpiece finally crackled. “Wait, out.” Operator speak for bugger off, I’m busy. Rif had spent years in Delta Force, but this wasn't the U.S. Army. She was in charge of this mission, and he was defying orders. Before she could respond, shots fired below at the base camp. No more hiding in the shadows. Time to bring it. "Go active," she commanded her team. The men from the campfire scrambled for their weapons while Brown and Johansson blasted their M4s from their positions on the ridge. Figures dropped to the muddy earth. Bullets ripped through the night, and the scent of gunpowder flooded her nostrils. "Brown, take your shot." He was responsible for disabling the rebels' ammo hut with the grenade launcher. “Eyes shut,” Brown warned, protecting the team’s vision from the bright lights of the explosion since they all wore night vision goggles. Seconds later, the building erupted in a burst of crimson flames. The sound of metal hitting rock sharpened her focus. Bullets showered the area around her. She pressed her chin into the mud, flattened her body, and returned fire. A group of rebels stormed toward the cliffside, but the team’s NVGs made the figures easy targets. Blasts reverberated across the valley as muzzle flashes flared. "Return to home base, over." Her voice remained calm, but four-letter words ricocheted through her brain. Where was Rif? She spotted rebels at the base of the hill, the men cutting off Team A’s egress route. Dammit to hell. Well, “all in” was obviously the theme of the day. “Cover me, Brown.” She jumped up from her hide and ran down the slippery hillside, her footing uncertain in the muck. Before the rebels could react to her presence, she pressed the trigger on her M4, rattling off round after round. She slammed in a fresh magazine and kept firing. Several men fell, others ran for cover. She continued the barrage. The egress route was clear. At least now Rif and the others had a chance of getting out. Her radio buzzed. "Bravo four, hit." Johansson's voice was reedy. He'd been shot. The northeast wasn't covered, and Rif was AWOL. It was up to her to help Jo. She pressed the talk button. "Coming, Jo. Brown, watch my back." Sprinting back up the hill, she traversed the ridge toward Johansson, mud sucking at her combat boots. Fifty feet. She pushed harder. Thirty. Ten. Bullets peppered the air around her. She dove behind the tree. Her forearms bore the brunt of her landing, the pain rumbling up to her shoulders. She scrambled forward on her belly and checked Johansson. Blood seeped from his shoulder. His face was ashen, his eyes unfocused. She grabbed a quick clot from the first aid kit in Jo’s backpack and placed it on his wound. "I’m too scared to face your hormonal wife alone, so keep your shit together." He gave her a weak smile. She secured the morphine syringe from his front pocket and injected him. He’d be lost in the hazy world of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon soon enough. A group of rebels climbed the embankment. Brown maintained his disciplined fire, but couldn't keep up. She aimed at the oncoming attackers and pressed the trigger. Several men fell. She shoved a fresh magazine into her M4. Figures appeared in the mist, the heat of their bodies a hazy green through the night vision goggles. She counted them. Four. The tallest one, Rif, had a body slung over his right shoulder. Sampson. They'd found him, but she couldn't tell if the hostage was dead or alive. "Jo, Team A's back. Can you walk?" Her breath was rapid and shallow. "Hell, yes.” Not sure she believed him, given he was on morphine. She was strong for a buck thirty lightweight, but couldn't run while carrying over two hundred pounds. They'd be an easy mark for the rebels. Rif's team had reached the ridge. "Stand up, Soldier." Johansson groaned. "My wife’s going to kill me." "No time for marriage counselling." She helped him to his feet. He stumbled, unsteady in the mud. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder, supporting his weight. "Let's get you home, Papa-To-Be." The faint sound of incoming rotorwash spurred her. They only had a few minutes to reach the clearing. A burst of nearby gunfire startled her. She looked up, prepared to shoot, but she recognized Rif’s lanky frame running across the ridge. He joined them behind a massive tree. Rain had smeared the black camo paint, giving his face a sinister look. "Team A's headed back to the clearing with Sampson." He slung his rifle across his back and hoisted Johansson over his shoulder. "Cover me." She stormed after them, heart and rifle on full auto. The rebels dove for shelter as she and Brown laid down suppressing fire. She shouted at Brown. "Chopper!" All of her teammates needed to be on the Hughes before she would jump in. The three of them sprinted for the clearing as another onslaught of bullets barraged the surrounding trees. She used a large mangrove for cover and returned fire, giving Rif time to help Johansson to safety. She zigzagged across the open field. Her chopper rested in a valley a hundred meters away. The other Hughes holding Team A and Sampson lifted off into the rain. Bullets whipped by. A sharp sting flared in her arm as she plowed through the thick underbrush. She ignored the pain and ran faster. She scrambled down the gorge and dove inside the chopper. Johansson, Brown, and Rif were already on board. She ripped off her night vision goggles and grabbed her headset. "Go!" she yelled at the pilot. "Hold tight." The winds gusted from the east, which meant they had to power up while heading straight into the barrels of the rebels’ AK-47s. The rotorblades strained as a group of armed men ran toward the Hughes. Come on, come on. Her fingernails dug into her palms. They plunged straight into live fire like a flying piñata. She kept her gaze straight ahead, willing the chopper to reach 60 knots so they could turn. Seconds felt like hours as they finally accelerated and swerved away from the camp. She glanced into the cockpit. The pilot's shirt was soaked. Rif glanced at the blood on her sleeve. "You hit?" "Just a graze." She stared at the holes in the fuselage, realizing just how close a call it’d been—and how Rif changing the plan mid-mission could have cost her teammates their lives. "Is Sampson okay?" After all this, she prayed the hostage was alive. "He's dehydrated and a bit roughed up, but he'll make it." "Amen for that." Saint Barbara had done her job again. Thea slumped against the fuselage, grateful the rebels didn't have an RPG. She checked her phone. As expected, the intense stress had skyrocketed her blood sugar levels. But the insulin would counteract that soon enough. She inhaled a deep breath. Another hostage safely returned by Quantum International Security. Looks like she’d make Papa’s party, after all.
 
 
Born in Toronto, Canada, K.J. enjoyed a nomadic lifestyle during her early years, living in Africa, the Middle East, Europe, and the Caribbean, which gave her an insider’s view into many different cultures. While abroad, she read every book she could find, which triggered in her a desire to create her own stories. She attended Salzburg International Preparatory School, Neuchâtel Junior College, and Albert College before earning a Specialists Degree in Business from the University of Toronto. K.J. found success in the corporate world, but her passion for travel, adventure, and stories drew her back to school where she earned a Masters in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. She also won several writing awards, including three Daphne du Maurier Awards for Excellence in Mystery and Suspense. While honing her fiction skills, K.J. worked as a medical, health, and fitness writer. She then became involved with the International Thriller Writers as the executive director of ThrillerFest, the organization’s annual conference held every July in New York City. In preparation for writing THE FREEDOM BROKER series, which focuses on elite kidnap negotiator Thea Paris, K.J. spent extensive time researching the dark world of kidnapping. She has interviewed former hostages, negotiators, hostage reintegration experts, Special Forces operatives, and K&R insurance executives. K.J. is an avid tennis player, cyclist, and swimmer. Travel and adventure still rank high on her priority list. She has had the pleasure of riding racing camels in Jordan, surfing in Hawaii, zip lining in the Costa Rican jungle, diving alongside Great White Sharks in South Africa, studying modern combat in the Arizona desert, and working with elephants in Botswana. Home is in Toronto, Canada, but she is often missing in action. K.J. Howe is available for interviews and appearances along with presentations about kidnapping and travel safety. For media appearances, interviews, speaking engagements, and/or book review requests please contact mickey.creativeedge@gmail.com by email or by phone at 403.464.6925.  
 
 
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Blog Tour: Seducing Mr. Sykes by Maggie Robinson with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Maggie Robinson’s Seducing Mr. Sykes. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

In Maggie Robinson’s sparkling new series, the quaint village in Gloucestershire is where the wayward sons and daughters of Great Britain’s finest families come for some R&R—and good old-fashioned “rehab.” But sometimes they find much more…   No one at Puddling-on-the-Wold ever expected to see Sarah Marchmain enter through its doors. But after the legendary Lady’s eleventh-hour rejection of the man she was slated to marry, she was sent here to restore her reputation . . . and change her mind. It amused Sadie that her father, a duke, would use the last of his funds to lock her up in this fancy facility—she couldn’t be happier to be away from her loathsome family and have some time to herself. The last thing she needs is more romantic distraction… As a local baronet’s son, Tristan Sykes is all too familiar with the spoiled, socialite residents of the Puddling Rehabilitation Foundation—no matter how real their problems may be. But all that changes when he encounters Sadie, a brave and brazen beauty who wants nothing more than to escape the life that’s been prescribed for her. If only Tristan could find a way to convince the Puddling powers-that-be that Sadie is unfit for release, he’d have a chance to explore the intense attraction that simmers between them—and prove himself fit to make her his bride…

 

 

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Puddling-on-the-Wold, September 1882

“It’s Lady Maribel all over again,” the grocer Frank Stanchfield muttered to his wife, checking the lock to his back room. “How the girl discovered the telegraph machine is a mystery.” Except it wasn’t such a mystery, really. Lady Sarah Marchmain— “Sadie” to her late mama and very few friends—had eyes, after all, and there it was behind an open alley window, gleaming on a worn oak desk. She had climbed in, her tartan trousers very convenient for hoisting oneself into the building. After being caught trying to send a message to who knows who, she was now unrepentantly inspecting the jars of candy on the shop counter. She might try to steal some of it, if only the shopkeepers would stop hovering over her. “Bite your tongue!” Mrs. Stanchfield whispered, looking over nervously at Sadie. Apparently no one wanted another Lady Maribel de Winter in Puddling. The first had been bad enough. Sadie had heard of her in snatches from the villagers, and the woman’s portrait hung in the parish hall. Her wicked reputation had outlived her, even if her decades of good works once she married had mitigated some of it. She had been a wild young thing who would have made Napoleon quake in his boots. Or take her to bed. Lady Maribel had been, according to gossip, irresistible to men. Fortunately her husband, a local baronet called Sir Colin Sykes, had taken her in hand as best he could once they were married. Sadie was determined never to be taken in hand. Puddling was known as a famous reputation-restorer, a place to rusticate and recalibrate. Prominent British families had sent their difficult relatives here for almost eighty years. Lady Maribel was among the first to be gently incarcerated within its limits in 1807, according to the elderly vicar’s wife, who seemed to know everything about everyone dating back to William the Conqueror. Now it was Sadie’s turn to be gently incarcerated, and she didn’t like it one bit. The village had a spotless reputation. It was a last resort before a harsher hospital, or worse, killing one’s own offspring. Or parent. Lady Sarah Marchmain had angered her father so thoroughly that they’d come to blows. When the Duke of Islesford dropped her off, he had been sporting a significant black eye. Well-deserved, in her opinion. Sadie’s own eyes were unbruised and light green, the color of beryl, or so her numerous suitors had said. Occasionally they threw in jade or jasper—it was all so much nonsense. Right now she was examining the penny candy in a glass jar, lots of shiny, jewel-like drops that looked so very tempting. Sweet, edible rubies and citrine, emeralds and onyx. Frank Stanchfield hustled over to the counter and screwed the lid on tighter. She licked her lips. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a penny to her name. She was entirely dependent on her housekeeper Mrs. Grace to dole out a pitiful allowance every Friday, and Friday was millions of days away. Sadie had spent the last of her money on a cinnamon bun earlier and had reveled in every bite. Her father’s draconian restrictions were designed to sting. Or so he thought. Sadie didn’t really mind being impoverished and hungry in Puddling-on-the-Wold. It meant she was not about to be auctioned off to Lord Roderick Charlton, or any other idiot her idiot father owed money to. The Duke of Islesford’s taste in men and luck at cards was, to put it bluntly, execrable. So far Sadie had overstayed her visit by one week. Originally consigned to her cottage for twenty-eight days, she had somehow not managed to be “cured” in that time. Rehabilitated. Restored. Brought to reason. Knuckle under was more like it. She was not getting married. In fact, she’d like to stay in Puddling forever. It was very restful. Quiet. The little lending library was surprisingly well stocked, and she’d gotten a lot of reading done between lectures from the prosy ancient vicar who instructed her daily. She also helped Mrs. Grace keep the cottage up to a ducal daughter’s snuff. Despite the fact that Sadie had no interest in becoming a wife, she was remarkably domestic. It came of hanging about the kitchens of Marchmain Castle, she supposed. The servants had been her only friends when she was a little girl and she’d been eager to help them. All that had changed after she was presented to the queen at seventeen, wearing those ridiculous hoops and feathers that threatened to put out someone’s eye. Suddenly, Sadie became a commodity, a bargaining chip to improve her father’s ailing finances. A surprising number of gentlemen— if you could call them that, since most men were absolute, avaricious, thoughtless pigs—were interested in acquiring a tall, redheaded, blueblooded, sharp-tongued and two-fisted duke’s daughter as wife. For the past four years, she’d avoided them with alacrity, aplomb, and those aforementioned fists. Needless to say, her reputation was cemented in ruination. It amused Sadie that her father was using the last of his funds to lock her away here in this very expensive Puddling prison, hoping that she would change her mind, acquiesce and marry the one man who remained steadfastly interested. Not bloody likely. She touched the glass jar with longing. “What may we help you with, Lady Sarah?” The poor grocer sounded scared to death. His wife hid behind him. Sadie batted her lashes. Sometimes this feminine trick worked, although these Puddling people seemed remarkably impervious to charm. They were hardened souls, harboring the odd, uncooperative, and unwanted scions of society for a hefty fee, believing that being cruel to be kind was the only way. “Do forgive my transgression, Mr. Stanchfield. I so longed to communicate with my old governess, Miss Mackenzie. Miss Mac, as I so affectionately call her. I found a book on telegraphy in the library and wondered if I had any aptitude for it,” she lied. Science in all its forms confounded her. In truth, she’d read nothing but Gothic romances since her arrival, very much enjoying the fraying sixty-year-old books written by an anonymous baroness. Moreover, Sadie’s old governess had been dead for six years and had been an absolute Tartar in life. There had been little affection on her part, 4 Maggie Robinson Sadie thought ruefully. The woman was at this moment no doubt giving the devil a lesson on evil and grading him harshly. “You know that’s forbidden, miss. No telegrams, no letters. Perhaps when you are r-r-released, you may visit with the lady. A r-reason for your good behavior, what?” Goodness, she was causing the poor fellow to stutter. She stilled her lashes. “Ah.” Sadie gave a dramatic sigh. “But I just can’t seem to get the hang of it. Being Puddling-perfect, that is. Every time I get close, something seems to happen.” Like stealing Ham Ross’s wheelbarrow full of pumpkins. It had been very difficult to push her loot uphill, and so many of the bloody orange things chose to roll out and smash along the road. Or turning up in church in her tartan trousers...her stolen tartan trousers. Some poor Puddlingite was foolish enough to hang them on a clothesline to tempt her. After some tailoring—Sadie was handy with a needle—they fit her slender waist and long legs as if they were made for her. Her father had always wanted a son. Instead her horrible cousin George would be the next duke, and Sadie would lose the only home— well, castle—she’d ever known. It wasn’t fair. She sighed again. “Here, now, Lady Sarah. I don’t suppose I’ll miss a few boiled sweets.” Mr. Stanchfield relented and unscrewed the jar, his wife looking disapproving behind him. He filled a paper twist with not nearly enough, and passed them to her. Sadie saw her opportunity for well-deserved drama. Any chance to appear happily unhinged must be seized with two hands, so she might stay here in Puddling just a little longer. Dropping to the floor on her tartan-covered knees, she howled. She had been practicing howling at night once her housekeeper Mrs. Grace went home. Her neighbors were under the impression a stray dog was in heat in the village, perhaps even a pack of them. “Oh! You are too good to me! I shall remember this always!” She snuffled and snorted, slipping a red candy into her mouth. Red always tasted best. “A polite thank you would do just as well.” The voice was chilly. Sadie looked up from her self-inflicted chestpounding and the candy fell from her open mouth. Good heavens. She had never seen this man before in all the walking she was made to do up and down the hills for her daily exercise. Where had he been hiding? He was beautiful. No, not beautiful exactly. His haughty expression was too harsh for beauty. Compelling, perhaps. Arresting. But, she reminded herself, he was a man, and therefore wanting. Lacking. Probably annoying. Not probably—certainly. Lady Sarah Jane Marchmain was twenty-one years old and had more than enough experience with men in her short lifetime to know the truth. The man reached a gloveless hand to her to help her up, but it didn’t look quite clean. Something green was under his fingernails—paint? Plant material? Sadie made a leap of faith and gripped it anyway, crunching her candy underfoot when he lifted her to her full height. He was still taller than she was. Not lacking there. Not lacking physically anywhere that she could see. His hair was brown, curly and unruly, his eyebrows darker and formidable. His nose was strong and straight, his lips full, his face bronzed from the sun. His eyes—oh, his eyes. Blue was an inadequate adjective. Cerulean? Sapphire? Aquamarine? She’d have to consult a thesaurus. But they weren’t kind. She found herself curtseying, her hand still firmly in his. “Thank you, sir, for coming to my rescue.” She fluttered her eyelashes again. “You were in no danger on the floor. Mrs. Stanchfield sweeps it thrice a day. One could eat off it, it’s so immaculate.” He dropped Sadie’s hand and kicked the crushed candy aside. The grocer’s wife pinked. “Thank you, Mr. Sykes.” Sykes. That was the name of the family the infamous Lady Maribel married into. Interesting. “I only speak the truth, madam.” Sadie considered whether she should fall to the floor again. It would be fun to gauge this Mr. Sykes’s strength if she pretended to swoon. Would he pick her up and hold her to his manly chest? Whisper assurances in her ear? Smooth loose tendrils of hair behind her pins? But perhaps he’d just leave her there to rot. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. Sadie was used to being looked at. For one thing, she was hard to miss. At nearly six feet, she towered over most men. Her flaming hair was another beacon, her skin pearlescent, her ample bosom startling on such a slender frame. She had been chased by men mercilessly, even after she had made it crystal clear she had no interest. These past years had tested her wits and firmed her resolve. She was mistress of her own heart, body, and mind, and determined to remain so. Mr. Sykes probably knew that—apparently everyone in Puddling had received a dossier on her. She’d come across a grease-stained one at the bakeshop under a tray of Bakewell tarts, and had tucked it into her pocket for quiet perusal, along with one delicious raspberry pastry. Theft was apparently in her blood. It had been most informative. The dossier, not the tart. Sadie had been gleeful reading an account of her past recalcitrance. She rather admired the clever ways she’d gone about subverting her father’s plans for her— she’d forgotten half of them. It had meant, however, that she had to exercise creativity in Puddling and not repeat her previous pranks. No sheep in the dining room. No bladder filled with beet juice tossed out the window. No punching fiancés or fathers. There was only the one father, but Sadie had endured several fiancés. The latest, Lord Roderick Charlton, was getting impatient. He’d given her father quite a lot of money to secure her hand. To be fair, he’d tried to woo Sadie with credible effort. There wasn’t anything really wrong with Roderick, she supposed. But there wasn’t anything right about him either. If Sadie could just resist the pressure to marry, she’d come into a substantial fortune when she turned twenty-five. She wouldn’t have to turn it over to some man, and her father wouldn’t be able to touch it. She could live her life just as she liked. She might even buy herself a small castle, if one could be found. One that wouldn’t fall down around her ears. One that had working fireplaces and no rats. However—and this was a huge however—the Duke of Islesford was threatening to have her declared incompetent, seize her funds, and lock her away in a most unpleasant private hospital. Sadie did not think it was an idle threat, and to some, it might look as if she deserved to be there. She was much too old now for the tricks she’d played, and four years was a very, very long time to stall. Sadie was beginning to realize she hadn’t done herself any favors with the pumpkins or the trousers or the howling. But she couldn’t succumb—she just couldn’t. No matter how many times Mr. Fitzmartin, the elderly vicar, reminded her of a proper woman’s place—as helper to her husband, silent in church, subordinate, obedient— she felt her fingers close into a fist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maggie Robinson didn’t know she wanted to write until she woke up in the middle of the night once really annoyed with her husband. Instead of smothering him with a pillow, she decided to get up and write—to create the perfect man—at least on a computer screen. Only to discover that fictional males can be just as resistant to direction as her husband. The upside is that she’s finally using her English degree and is still married to her original, imperfect hero. Since she’s imperfect, too, that makes them a perfect match. Until her midnight keyboarding, she had been a teacher, librarian, newspaper reporter, administrative assistant to two non-profits, community volunteer, and mother of four in seven different states. Now Maggie can call herself a romance writer in Maine. There’s nothing she likes better than writing about people who make mistakes, but don’t let the mistakes make them.

 

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Celebrate Amazon Prime Day

   

It is finally Prime Day and time to celebrate  

 

 

Amazon has many awesome deals among them KINDLES :D 

 

Today is the perfect day to trade in your old kindle, look for a backup or just buy one because you don't have one yet ;) 

 

Here are a few that are on sale today only.

 

Kindle Paperwhite

 

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Release Day for Detecting Greed by Mikey Lee

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Happy Book Birthday to Mikey Lee for Detecting Greed :D 

You can get the third book in the Sin Series TODAY

We will have info about the book including buy links, info about the previous book and info about the author.

Make sure to check everything out and go garb a copy of Detecting Greed.

Happy Reading :) 


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Greed Front

Everyone's getting greedy in this installment of Mikey Lee's Sin Series!

When one unsolved case is thrown at Detecting Seth Lane, he takes the lead with no problem. But when multiple cases are dropped at his feet at one time, Seth starts to think that they're connected...he just can't prove it.

Racing against the clock, Seth once again tries to find the perp before any further victims turn up — and before his wife forgets what it's like for him to be home.

--- Each book in the Sin Series can be read as a STANDALONE.

 

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Detecting Lust

Book One

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Detecting Envy

Book Two 

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Mikey Lee is a veteran of the United States Marine Corps and is a strong supporter of the military. He has a degree in Criminal Justice and he started writing as a way to express his creative side.

Mikey and his wife live happily in West Virginia, where he tries to make his wife fall in love with him every day. He also talks in his sleep. He has been so humbled by the support of readers, bloggers and other authors.

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Blog Tour: Perfect Odds by LaShanta Charles with Excerpt and Giveaway

Today’s stop is for LaShanta Charles’s Perfect Odds. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

 

 

Callista Brenner refuses to let go of her past. She had her entire life figured out…except, maybe that was only in her mind. Being stood up for her own wedding should be a clue. Regardless, she’s determined to fix this. She just needs a plan and if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s planning. Her accolades as one of Georgia’s top premiere event planners if proof of that. It doesn’t matter that she’s a whirlwind of clumsy chaos. All she has to do is stay away from the gorgeously irritating Jayce Gilmore and her wedding will be back on track. That’s exactly what she wants. Right? She loves her fiancé. She wants to marry him and start a family. He’s her everything. Or is he? Jayce Gilmore has somehow let himself be bamboozled. One minute he was enjoying his quiet existence in his home in the outskirts of Victory, NY and the next he was facing his best friend’s wife and promising to be the best man at their wedding, which he also agreed to host at his resort & casino, La Bonne Chance. The introvert in him is questioning his sanity. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his partner has decided he’s taking a three-month hiatus, leaving the business solely in Jayce’s hands. Just when he’s ready to curl into a ball and refuse to leave his room, a chance encounter at an airport has him realizing some things are worth venturing out of your comfort zone for. Neither of them could have guessed that Callista’s past would decide it wants to be her future and will stop at nothing to make that a reality. Could she accept that maybe her carefully laid plans weren’t as careful as she thought? Will Jayce be able to show her that he’s worth a chance and, together, their oddities can be perfect?

 

 

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Part of the All in For Love Box Set!

 

 

 

 

Six best selling and award winning authors bring you six Sweet to Sensual stories. [Savings of more than 75% if books are purchased separately].

Welcome to La Bonne Chance Resort & Casino!  

 

With thousands of people passing through the casino’s doors on a daily basis, it’s no surprise that a variety of lives and loves are on the line there. It’s said that you’re more likely to lose your heart than a hand of poker at La Bonne Chance. Whether you are the Director of Casino Operations or the guy who created its software, a jilted bride or a black jack dealer, a past guest’s ghost or a sous chef--when it comes to love, the stakes are high.   Thank goodness what happens at La Bonne Chance, doesn’t always stay at La Bonne Chance... Ready to roll the dice?   All In For Love   PERFECT ODDS by LaShanta Charles Heartbroken and alone, event planner, Callista Brenner believes the only thing she needs in her life is a plan to get her back on track. And to stay away from the devastatingly handsome, Jayce Gilmore, who promises to be exactly what she needs. When her “plan” backfires and threatens her very existence, what will she do to secure her future? A GHOST TO DIE FOR by Keta Diablo Unlike Violet, her psychic sister, Rooney Fontaine doesn't believe in ghosts. Until one shows up in her hotel room begging for help. Headlines in the local newspaper said the man jumped from his seventh story balcony, but Rooney's truth compass is screaming something far more sinister.   RAISING KANE by Kat Henry Doran She's Raisin' Kane, committed to reporting the truth. He's Kieran Pollack, master at spinning the facts in favor of the criminal justice system and those who serve it. Truth or fiction: both could bring them to their knees.   AN INN DECENT PROPOSAL by Sharon Buchbiner Jim Rawlings takes the biggest chance of his life—bidding at auction for a once-grand inn. Genie King attends the hotel auction, never expecting another LBC employee to bid at the sale—much less the guy she had a major crush on in high school. Working together means Jim must share long-hidden secrets. Will Genie reject the man with a past? Or will she love the man he's become?   FOR MONEY OR LOVE by Margo Hoornstra He’s a mega-millionaire who covets wealth She’s a computer genius who covets life Their money or a life together, which will they choose?   TAKE A CHANCE ON ME by M.J. Schiller She’s a dealer on a losing streak with love. He’s a cop who will go all in to save her from the mob. Can she take a chance on him when this could be her final wager?  

 

 

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Cali

I nibble on my thumbnail as I watch the other travelers, clad in the makings of a summer vacation t-shirts and shorts, moving to and fro. Hot pink backpacks and black rolling cases bob and weave in a sea of commuters. Our flight is on the second call of now boarding all passengers and Cameron has yet to show up or answer my calls. Scanning the crowd, I search for his clean-cut, freshly shaved face, but come up empty. He’s still not here. A roiling ball of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. Something must have happened to him. It’s the only explanation I can think of that would lead to him not being here. A toddler wobbles past me, blonde pigtails bouncing as plump legs struggling to support the carefree attempt to run, and stepping aside, I smile down at her as she chants “uh-oh.” How freaking cute is that? I bet she gets into all sorts of shenanigans. A woman, with identical blonde curls and green eyes, rushes after her and scoops her up before giggling ensues. She plants a smacking kiss on the child’s chubby cheeks before pointing and encouraging the child to say “da-da.” A smiling man with unnaturally white teeth approaches with his arms stretched out and the child squeals and squirms as she nearly jumps from the woman’s arms. You can’t witness such a scene and not smile. Two more years and that’ll be me with my own family—number three on my list of priorities. My phone vibrates, startling me out of staring at the trio. Relief envelops me like a warm blanket when I see the picture of Cameron on the screen. “Where are you? They’re boarding everyone now. I’ll go ahead and let them know we’ll make it,” I answer, my phone cradled between my shoulder and ear. “I’m not coming,” he says. I pause in making my way to the attendant station. Surely, I heard him wrong. “Hang on a sec, let me ask them how long we have before they can no longer wait. If you’re here already it shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll need to hurry. Like, sprint through the airport or maybe get one of those guys on the carts to give you a ride somehow.” The attendant flashes a smile at me and holds her hand out for my boarding pass. Her two front teeth are chipped and it makes me think of the time Cameron chipped his tooth while playing basketball last year. He got it fixed immediately, so I wonder why she’s chosen to leave hers like that. I move to give her the passes, but hear Cameron speaking again. “Cali, you’re not listening. I’m not there. I’m not coming either.” Pulling my boarding pass away from the chipped tooth attendant, I force a smile and step away for privacy. “What are you talking about, Cameron? I’m here waiting for you.” As if he doesn’t know that. He helped me load our luggage into the car before I left this morning. Is this some sick joke he’s pulling right now? “Didn’t you hear me, Cali? I said I’m not coming,” Cameron repeats, his voice harsh and grating. I stare numbly at the ‘now boarding’ screen above the attendant. I heard him the first two times. It makes as much sense now as it did then—none. “I don’t understand. You can’t not come, we’re getting married. I can see if they’ll schedule us for a different flight. I’m sure it’s not too late. We’re getting there early enough one day won’t really matter,” I tell him. He lets out an exasperated sigh. He’s annoyed? We’re four weeks away from our wedding and I’m at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia, sans fiancé. I woke up at some ungodly hour, battled an hour and a half of bumper to bumper traffic to get here and get us both checked in two hours early, lugged all our suitcases—overweight, I might add—only for him to call when it’s time to board the flight to New York and tell me he’s not coming. Yet, he’s the one who’s annoyed? “I don’t know what else to say, Cali. I’m trying to do right by you here. We both knew this wouldn’t end well. This was a mistake. A huge mistake and you’re only making it harder. I can’t do this right now. For once, let something go.” I don’t even know how to respond to that. A mistake? What part of this is the mistake? One of the biggest occasions in my life—number one on the list—is a huge mistake for him? Try as I might, I can no longer speak. ‘We’ didn’t know this wouldn’t end in anything but a marriage. ‘Do right by me?’ How is standing me up for our wedding doing right by me? I didn’t ask to marry myself. I didn’t insist on us having a short engagement or me moving in with him. I watch as the attendant lifts a phone to her mouth and smiles. A few seconds later I hear her disembodied voice over the PA system. “This serves as a final boarding call for Delta Flight 1762 with service to Buffalo New York. All ticketed and confirmed passengers should report to Gate C23 for immediate departure." “Look, I can hear them in the background. You shouldn’t be at the airport alone. Go back to your parents’ place and we’ll talk more about this later. I have to get back to work,” Cameron says. My parents’ place? He’s kicking me out? And why is he at work? We’re supposed to be leaving. Like, right now! I open my mouth to speak, not entirely sure what I’ll say, but I’m cut off by someone roughly bumping my shoulder. Silently, I watch as my phone crashes to the ground and bounces once before landing, screen up. It didn’t shatter, but the screen is dark. Cameron probably thinks I hung up on him. It’s much less than he deserves at this point. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” Story of my freaking life. Destined to fade into the background where no one sees me. Number two on the list—stand out more. This guy’s apology definitely didn’t sound sincere. I look up to see a startling shade of blue staring down at me. Cold. I don’t like it. Blue is my favorite color, but I like warm blues. Blues that make you think of a tropical oasis. Definitely not blue like this stranger’s eyes. This shade of blue makes me anxious and . . . sad? Scared? Why the hell am I thinking about shades of blue when my life has just ended? Stupid stranger not looking where he’s going. He’s a jerk, like all men in the universe. “I’ll get it,” he declares, grabbing my phone from the floor. Before I can tell him to leave me alone, I hear the attendant speaking again. “Ms. Brenner?” she pauses and looks expectantly at the bearded man standing next to me. “Gilmore,” he supplies as he takes a step away from her. We both turn to give her our attention, although I really don’t want to. I want to stand here and wallow in my misery. I want to reach out and pull this guy’s thick beard, cause him a little pain so I don’t suffer alone. What the hell does Cameron mean by ‘I can’t do this right now’? Was I just . . . dumped? Is Cameron breaking up with me or does he just not want to marry me? Is there really a difference at this point in our relationship? Can we really stay together if he basically rescinds his proposal? I’m a cliché of epic proportions. I want the fairytale wedding with a princess gown and a horse-drawn carriage. I want a wedding that will resemble a forest at dusk with stars twinkling in the sky and a sensual melody playing in the background. I stop my train of thoughts when the attendant speaks again. “We need you to board now if this is your flight. We really need to close the gate now.” “Our apologies for being late,” Mr. Gilmore grumbles before turning to me and gesturing toward the gate. “After you.” I’m slightly pleased his apology to her seemed even less sincere. There was also much more annoyance in his voice. I think. Plus, I wasn’t even late. I was very much so on time. I was where I was supposed to be and checked in like I should have. Just . . . not with whom I’m supposed to be with. Tears well in my eyes fall quicker than I can blink them away. The attendant clears her throat nervously and a horrified look crosses Mr. Gilmore’s face. “Ma’am, we really need to close the gate now,” chipped tooth says. I’m not only crying, but I’ve given them no response this entire time and I’m holding up the flight. Cameron and I were supposed to be going on this trip to New York as a vacation—and pseudo-honeymoon since it came before the ceremony, and end it with our wedding. Except now, he’s not here and he’s not coming. “Allergies,” I lie with a forced smile. I hand over my boarding pass and soon enough, I’m on my way to La Bonne Chance Casino Resort, solo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

LaShanta Charles was born and raised in the small town of Orangeburg, SC. She has always been an avid reader of all genres, but Romance has always been her true love and is what inspired her to pursue a writing career. In high school, she began letting her classmates read the short stories that she would write and based off of their feedback, her passion for writing pushed her to become a published author. She published her debut novel, Lovely Lies, in 2013 and released the sequel, Lovely Lies 2, in February 2014. Her third novel, Splitting Karma, was released in October 2014. She lives in Yelm, WA, with her husband and three children and also serves in the US Army. She's a home body who enjoys SLEEPING, reading, SLEEPING, eating, SLEEPING, white chocolate mochas, SLEEPING, sexy alien romances, and of course, writing. Oh, and she hates spiders; they're extremely creepy, why do they need eight legs??

 

 

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Blog Tour: Benediction Denied by Elizabeth Engstrom with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Elizabeth Engstrom’s Benediction Denied. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

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While hydrologist Adam Swan is engaged in humanitarian efforts to bring water to a small, isolated village in the Congo, he is kidnapped by rebel thugs and thrown into a makeshift prison. He is left to die—or worse—if his ransom is not paid. In a surprising series of events, Adam escapes his brutal captors into an underground labyrinth where reality and sanity no longer rule. Armed with a limited amount of magic which he does not understand, he survives by employing it boldly, recklessly, desperate to return to the village above, homesick for Minnesota and normal life with his wife and daughters. Tested to the extreme limits of his endurance, Adam navigates the labyrinth with only the company of his past behavior, the baffling magic, and the seductive temptation to succumb to the mysterious and merciless gods of the underworld. The consequences of his actions, past present, and future, take him to the brink of death—and beyond. A fun, fast, thrilling ride by veteran author Elizabeth Engstrom, inspired by Matthew Lowes’ Dungeon Solitaire: Labyrinth of Souls card game.

 

 

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Adam Swan struggled up through dark, painful layers of consciousness. Way in the back of his awareness, he knew that full consciousness would mean full pain. He resisted, wishing desperately to sink into blissful sleep, but he didn’t think his sleep had been all that blissful, and he couldn’t find anything to cling to in order to help him get there. His head pounded so hard it actually moved with each heartbeat. He not only saw the red pulses behind his closed eyes, but he heard each heart beat thundering through what surely must be a broken skull. He brought his knees to his chest and cradled his arms over his exploding head. He was lying on his side. He tried to imagine where he was, how he got there, but he had no room for anything but the pounding, the thundering hammering in his head. There was a very real possibility that the top of his head could blow off with the pressure of each raging beat of his pulse. He grabbed his head with both hands and squeezed. The dirt beneath him moved, too. Dirt floor. What the hell? He cracked an eye open, bringing with it harsh, jagged waves of pain. Although there was very little light, he saw walls. At least he was alive. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he moved around to assess the damage. His arms worked. His hands worked. They didn’t seem to be injured. He flexed his shoulders. It was just his head. He reached around with a tentative touch and picked off crusty dried blood above his ear. Probing fingers found a lump the size of a lemon. Slowly, carefully testing, he moved his feet, then his legs. One knee gave him some grief, but nothing like his head. He squinted his eyes, then opened them just a tiny bit, adjusted his glasses, and looked around. A dark room. Dirt floor. Indistinct light coming from above. He pushed on his temples, trying to arrest the pain, scooted to a wall and pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the wall. Wooden wall. He stopped moving and closed his eyes again, seeing red and yellow starbursts of pain emanate from his cracked skull until they seemed to fill the room. The pounding lessened when he was still, quiet, not moving. After a long moment, he carefully opened his eyes again and looked around, gently moving his head, assessing any damage that might have been done to his neck, trying desperately not to start the shattering waves of pain that threatened to shoot his eyeballs right out of their sockets. Dirt floor. Small, square room. Door at one end. Vent in the roof, the source of the light. Hot. Steamy. Jungle. Still in the jungle. Still in Congo. Stench of urine. Bucket in the corner, perhaps the source of the stench. Small table next to the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Tried to remember.  
 
 
 
 
Elizabeth Engstrom is the author of fourteen books and has over 250 short stories, articles, and essays in print. She is a sought-after teacher and keynote speaker at writing conferences, conventions, and seminars around the world. She has a BA in Literature/Creative Writing, and an MA in Applied Theology, both from Marylhurst University. Her most recent nonfiction book is How to Write a Sizzling Sex Scene, and her most recent novel is Baggage Check, a thriller. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her fisherman-husband and their dog where she is on the board of directors for Wordcrafters in Eugene. She teaches the occasional writing class, puts her pen to use for social justice, and is always working on her next book.
 
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Blog Tour:Warrior of Fire by Shona Husk with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Shona Husk’s Warrior of Fire. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

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Emily slipped her phone into her pocket. He hadn’t been lying about

leaving the hospital late. She’d watched him walk out the door. She’d spent

a lot of time watching him and not enough doing anything. The times

they were together they got as close as two people could, yet Julian had

managed to keep the rest of his life completely apart from her. She was

pretty sure that no one even knew they were dating.

She sat in her car without starting it. They weren’t really dating

and she shouldn’t be feeling pissed that he’d blown her off. He was a

mark, not her lover.

He was her kill to get her full membership to the Guardians of Adam.

She closed her eyes and leaned over the steering wheel. So why hadn’t

she done it already? She should’ve done it months ago when they first met.

She’d known that he was Albah from the curl of his ears. But he was also

attractive, educated, and nothing like the egotistical magic-using maniacs

her mother had told tales about. She should’ve questioned him and killed

him two weeks ago while the undead horror was alive and killing. Now

the Albanex had vanished and she knew a Guardian hadn’t killed it. The

Albah were probably protecting it. Hiding and feeding it.

She shuddered.

How could Julian, a well-respected doctor and burns specialist, participate

in something like that? Yet it was in his blood to become an undead, blooddrinking

Albanex. She needed to find out where his father lived—which

was harder than it should have been. She’d tried.

There was a tap on her window. Her heart stopped and she almost died.

What a Guardian she was, jumping at a security guard doing his rounds.

She opened her window a crack. “Yes?”

“Just checking you’re all right, miss.” The security guard looked concerned.

Emily softened her features as though she’d seen a dying relative and

sniffed. “Yeah. Just gathering myself before I drive home.”

“Never wise to linger in the car park. Better safe than sorry.” He smiled.

He looked as though he couldn’t run down a thief even if the thief was

carrying a box full of donuts and a coffee to wash them down.

Emily nodded and obediently started her car. When he didn’t move

away, she pulled out of the bay. She needed to get home. It was late, but

no doubt her mother would want a status update.

No change. Nothing to report.

The only excuse she could give for why the Albah was still alive was

that he could lead them to more…and hopefully the Albanex.

She paid for her parking and headed out of the city. She’d go to Julian’s

place and wait to see if he came home tonight at all. That twinge in her

chest was not jealousy.

He didn’t have another lover.

He barely had time for her.

She knew the real reason Julian was still alive was because she did

fancy him just the tiniest bit. And he saved people. Maybe he wasn’t like

the other Albah.

But all Albah could become Albanex. Albanex were the vampires that

humans thought existed only in myth. Albah were more like the elves or

witches, harmless until they did the magic that would make them drink

blood and live forever. The Guardians should’ve wiped them all out 200

years ago instead of calling for a truce; then she wouldn’t be in this position.

Doctor Julian Ryder, for all his good work, was still only one magic

ritual away from becoming an undead monster.

Leira sat quietly on the bathroom floor—it was the safest place for

her to practice, given the abundance of water and the lack of flammable

items. She’d moved the towels well away as an extra precaution. The tiles

were cold under her butt. She’d been sitting here for half an hour with the

unlit candle. She was running out of time if she wanted to get this done

before she had to get to university. While she could light a candle safely,

if she saw something that shocked her… Well, she didn’t want a repeat of

the crisps incident.

Saba would’ve happily done a reading for her if she’d asked, but Leira

wanted to do this herself, and she didn’t want anyone else to know. She

didn’t want Saba to know if everything had gone wrong. And if it had,

how was she going to fix it?

She didn’t know that either.

Which was why she hadn’t lit the candle yet.

Sitting here wasn’t going to change anything. Maybe nothing had changed

and it would all be okay, but she didn’t believe that for a heartbeat. Last

night every time she’d looked at him she could feel the tracks changing

direction, derailing the future she’d been expecting.

She shook out her hands. Maybe she was being overly dramatic, after

all, if it was one of those meant to be things, why hadn’t she felt more

than a tingle? All she’d gotten—once she’d gotten over the shock—was

the same tingle she got when seeing any hot guy.

A smile formed. Julian was hot, and not just because his magic was

fire. And they had agreed to get together to talk magic. And he’d offered

to let her read his dead mother’s diaries, which was probably a great way

to kill any mood.

There’d been no mood in the car, but there had been an undercurrent

of something. She didn’t know what it was or how to deal with it, or him.

She’d expected fireworks and…and something more. She wasn’t sure he’d

felt anything for her except pity, because she couldn’t control her magic,

and then embarrassment because it was pretty damn clear that everyone

in the room thought they needed smooshing together. Saba had promised

not to interfere, but that had been before, when the vision was still true.

Now it wasn’t. They had met and she needed to find out what had changed.

She drew in a breath and then exhaled.

In her mind she saw a circle form around her, in her next breath it became

real. She waited another couple of heartbeats before visualizing the flame.

If she was lighting a candle for the oil burner, she didn’t bother with the

ritual, but this was about her future. She could’ve used a match and not

worried about the magic, but she refused to use matches and lighters. She

had to be able to do this.

Leira pictured the flame in her mind, then pushed it out of her. The

candle lit with a spark and a crackle. She leaned forward and rested her

hands on her chin so she could stare into its blue center. As she did, the

flame expanded. The blue becoming a ball three inches in diameter.

Her concentration remained steady. How many exercises had she done

just on focusing without even using fire? She’d lost count. She could do

this without burning off her eyebrows now.

The blue started swirling as though filled with currents.

Show me the path I am on.

She expected to see the train, Julian—he had a name now—and herself

giving lectures. Her future still steady even if she didn’t know how to get

there. She’d met him; all they had to do was fall in love. When she thought

of him, that feeling was there even though when she was with him it wasn’t.

Was she getting herself muddled by constantly checking and imagining?

No, she knew the difference between the present and the future.

This time Julian didn’t appear in the flame. The currents grew darker

as though made of thick oily smoke. No, it was smoke. And flames. Her

future was nothing but smoke and flames.

No!

She gasped and dropped the circle, batting the ball of fire away. It

bounced off the wall and into the two inches of water she’d put in the bath

in case of emergency, where it then fizzled and went out.

Her heart beat fast. That didn’t make sense. Just because her initial

meeting with Julian had gone wrong didn’t mean her whole life was going

to go up in smoke.

Did it?

Fire was her element. What was she going to do, spontaneously combust?

A nervous laugh slipped past her lips.

She must have projected her own feelings about the situation. Saba was

better at this than she was. Saba was better at everything, except school

grades. That had been the one place she had bested Saba. Leira had worked

hard to be good at something.

What if Saba saw exactly what she had seen? What did it mean?

It couldn’t be death. There were other paths. There were always other

paths. She knew that. All that she had been shown was the path she

was currently on.

Right. She could fix this. She calmed herself. She just had to

find a new path.

The trouble was, how would she know if she was on the same path or

changing direction? She couldn’t check every decision that she made and

sometimes it was the smallest thing that could create the needed ripple.

Last night had been more than a ripple.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back. With over forty published stories, ranging from sensual to scorching, she writes contemporary, paranormal, fantasy, and sci-fi romance.

 

 

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Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
 
 
Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tourwarrior-fire-shona-husk-excerpt-giveaway

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