Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Cupcakes and Crooked Spoons by Charity B.

Cupcakes and Crooked Spoons

by Charity B.
Sweet Treats Trilogy  
Publication Date: June 11, 2018 
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance


Purchase: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

*Tavin* 

Ever since Toben told me to make my first birthday wish, I always wish for the same thing: for us to run away to a beautiful place where they won’t ever find us or hurt us again. He’s the only person in the world who loves me. I love him too. He’s says we’re the same, that we’re halfpeople. He tries to protect me from the monster. The monster does’t love us, but Toben says we don’t need him to. Toben is all I need. He’s the reason I keep waking up every morning, in this scary life, praying for the day my eyes stay closed. 

*Toben* 

Tavin is the most precious thing in my life. She gives me a purpose. I love her more than the air in my lungs, and it’s because of her that I’m able to hang on to some semblance of who I once was. His sinister cruelty has taken its toll, causing something to change inside of me. She can’t ever know the things I’ve done. The things he’s made me do, and the things I’ve done because of my own darkening heart. She wouldn’t understand that I did those things for her. Everything breath I take, every soul I crush is for her. It’s all for her. 

Trigger Warning: This novel contains drug use, explicit sexual content, violence, extreme child abuse, and sensitive subject matter which may be triggering to some readers. 

Sweetened Suffering

Sweet Treats Trilogy 
by Charity B. 
Publication Date: April 22, 2018 
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance


Purchase: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Tavin: 

The problem with getting what you’ve always wanted, is the chance of losing it. Before I met Alexander, I was blissfully blind, unaware of what was possible. Now that I’ve seen the colors of his world, I don’t know how to go back to the dreariness of mine. As much as I want to allow myself to dream of a life that I never knew was possible, the doubts still dig their claws into my mind and I fear the darkness of my past will destroy it all. 

Alexander:

 Not my wildest dreams or darkest nightmares could have prepared me for the intricacy that is Tavin Winters. As sweet and gentle as she is, the violence and torment that has been woven into every day of her past remains evident. He will pay for what he’s done to her, and I will do my best to give her the serenity she deserves. However this plays out, I will always love her and I will always protect her…even if it’s from herself. 

Trigger Warning: This novel contains drug use, explicit sexual content, violence, child abuse, and sensitive subject matter that may be triggering for some readers.

Candy Coated Chaos

Sweet Treats Trilogy 
by Charity B. 
Publication Date: February 15, 2018 
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance


Purchase: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Alexander 

Being with Tavin is like eating those candies that start out sweet and then turn so sour, your eyes water. When she's happy, her radiance is stunning, but her glow is dimmed by her dark secrets. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her, sucking on that lollipop, that there was something unique about her. I was right in more ways than one, and while I don't know the extent of suffering that her life entails, I'll do whatever I need to, to convince her she can trust me. I just need to hang on to her long enough to do that. 

Tavin 

When he wraps his arms around me, and his warmth makes me feel safe, it's easy to pretend that this is real. I knew going out with him was a bad idea, I just never imagined it would go this far. It was only supposed to be one night. One night to feel like a normal girl. I didn't plan for this and now, every day that passes puts us deeper in danger. All I can do is make the most of every moment with him, so when the time comes for this to end, then at least we'll be left with beautiful memories. 

Trigger Warning: This novel contains drug use, explicit sexual content, violence, and sensitive subject matter which may be triggering for some readers.

About Charity B.

 

Charity B. lives in Salem Oregon with her husband and ornery little boy. Candy Coated Chaos is her debut novel and has more titles preparing for release in 2018. She has always loved to read and write, but began her love affair with dark romance when she read C.J. Robert's The Dark Duet. She has a passion for the disturbing and sexy and wants nothing more than to give her readers the ultimate book hangover. In her spare time when she's not chasing her son, she enjoys reading, the occasional TV show binge, and is deeply inspired by music.



Book Blitz: Torn by Melody Anne




Title: Torn
Series: Torn #1
Author: Melody Anne
Genre: Romance
Release Date: April 30, 2018



Blurb

I understand how adultery happens. I know, your first thought is “Of course you can — you’re a cheater.” That’s true, but that’s certainly not the whole story.
That’s always what a cheater says, right? Once again, you are correct. If you’re looking for a typical romance, then run — run far.
After ten years of marriage I realized my husband barely touched me anymore. There was the obligational monthly sex, but even that was starting to fizzle. I was twenty-nine and he was thirty-two. We should’ve been doing it like bunnies, night and day, or at least a couple times a week, to be more realistic. But that hadn’t happened in years.
It didn’t hit me until I’d been gone a couple of weeks. Then when I got home we both fell asleep that night, me snuggled up against his back like we always slept. But that’s all we did. We just … slept.
No big deal you say?
Wrong. It was a very big deal.
It was the night I realized we had a real problem.
I have a choice to make, but I'm so torn. Do I stay where I'm at or do I go with Kaden, with the man who's showing me I still have a lot to live for ...







Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU



Trailer




Also Available


#2 Tattered

Releasing July 17, 2018

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS



Author Bio


Melody Anne is a NYT best selling author of the popular series: Billionaire Bachelors, Surrender, Baby for the Billionaire, Unexpected Hero's, Billionaire Aviators, Becoming Elena and some solo titles. She also has a Young Adult Series and is currently working on her first Thriller title to be released in 2017.

As an aspiring author, she wrote for years, then officially published in 2011, finding her true calling, and a love of writing. Holding a Bachelor's Degree in business, she loves to write about strong, powerful, businessmen and the corporate world.

When not writing, she spends time with family, friends, and her many pets. A country girl at heart, she loves the small town and strong community she lives in and is involved in many community projects.

To date, she has over 7 million book sales and has earned multiple placement on varying best seller lists, including NYT's, USA Today, and WSJ, being an amazon top 100 bestselling author for 3 years in a row, as well as a Kobo and iBooks best-seller. But beyond that, she just loves getting to do what makes her happy - living in a fantasy world 95% of the time.



Cover Reveal: Save the Date by Carrie Aarons




Title: Save the Date
Author: Carrie Aarons
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
Release Date: June 24, 2018



Blurb

You know that pact you make with your childhood best friend of the opposite sex? The one where, if you’re both still single, lonely and hopeless at thirty, you’ll marry each other?

This is the story about what happens when you hit the big three-oh and have to make good on that pinky promise.

Personally, I think love, romance and all of that nonsense is a crock of, well, you know. And Reese Collins, the boy who used to put worms in my hair at backyard barbecues, knows that better than anyone.

But when he moves to the same city I’ve happily, and singly, inhabited for years, memories of oaths past resurface. Reese is like a dog with a bone; a really hot dog and that bone just happens to be me.

He won’t stop hounding me, and the crazy thing is, my frigid, traitorous heart is starting to cave. For my best friend.

It seems so far off, when you’re a kid playing Monopoly in your treehouse. But when that clock strikes midnight on your thirtieth birthday, and you’re standing alone in front of a grocery store-bought cupcake, a childhood deal to walk down the aisle doesn’t seem so silly anymore.


ADD TO GOODREADS





Author Bio

Author of romance novels such as Red Card and All the Frogs in Manhattan, Carrie Aarons writes sexy, swoon-worthy, sarcastic characters who won't get out of her head until she puts them down on a page.

Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book, and can't imagine a better or more maddening profession.

A lover of good manicures, Riesling and the beach, she enjoys chasing her puppy through the dog parks of New Jersey, or trying to make her husband binge watch the latest Netflix craze.


Author Links




Release Boost + Giveaway: Sweet Disaster by Ceri Grenelle




Title: Sweet Disaster
Series: Stupid Awesome Love #1
Author: Ceri Grenelle
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 7, 2018



Blurb

Sophie…has stupid awesome sex with a stranger.

New York City summers are hot and sticky, which only makes what I’m feeling for the asshole in my new building even messier. Usually, I quietly reserve my opinions for my news articles, but when Tony argues with me, he tempts me to give in to my crazy. I yell back. He smiles. Something in me melts.

It was only supposed to be one time, but we can’t get enough.

With Tony I’m a new person, brave and unashamed. But anything between us can only be a fling. He’s offered a job in Rome. That’s good, right? With a long history of unreliable relationships, messy emotions are a complication I don’t need.

Tony…has a sexy new neighbor.

I’ve worked my ass off to climb the ladder at my company, even threw away my passion to prove I’m worth something. When they offer me a high position, I should be focused on my work. But no one’s ever spoken to me the way Sophie does. She pushes buttons I don't know I have. Forces me to confront a dream I gave up long ago.

In two months, we go our separate ways. No hurt feelings. No misunderstandings. That’s the deal. She doesn’t need to know I’ll be playing for keeps.







Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU





Excerpt

Chapter One

Sophie moves into a new building. There are sexy assholes.

The first time we argue, I feel alive. I’m sweating, my blood’s pumping, and my hair is sticking to my face in the stinking New York City humidity. I don’t know what life really is until some asshole starts screaming at me to move my van from his spot, because it feels so damn good to yell right back at him.
“Get your U-Haul out of my parking spot!”
This guy’s hollering at me from across the street.
“Excuse me?” I call back, convinced he isn’t speaking to me. No one ever yells at me. I’m unassuming and introverted. I’m a wallpaper ninja, blending so well people can’t even find me to yell at me.
But the guy across the street sees me, clear as day.
“Are you deaf?” he yells with slow and exaggerated articulation. “Get your damn moving van out of my spot.”
I’m not the type of person to engage in a verbal fight. I’m quiet-even when someone pisses me off. I roll with the chaotic nature of my beautifully harsh city: a strand of seaweed in the ocean, riding the tides. But after surviving the day from hell, only to be accosted by this bear of a man? I fight back, like I never have before.
“Last time I checked there are no spots assigned to people on this block, or anywhere else in Brooklyn.”
“It’s an unwritten rule.”
I mimic his earlier tone, hitting every consonant and unleashing my New York accent to embellish the attitude. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m moving into the building and there’s an actual written rule that if I double-park the U-Haul, I’ll get a ticket.”
“That’s not my problem, baby.” He steps into the street, waiting for a break in traffic to cross. “Find a new spot.”
I nearly drop the moving box in outrage before remembering it has wine glasses mom sent from Napa. Breaking them would be a crime. I’ll need them before this shit day is over, especially after getting a look at the man charging at me like a bull chasing red.
As he crosses the street I expect to see a guido with a beer gut, and while I imagine he’s got a decent percentage of Italian heritage, there sure as hell ain’t no beer gut. Instead I’m greeted by a fit and trim physique, tanned skin, and biceps I could drool over. The muscles in his arms tense and roll with every word, every wild gesticulation. He levels with me on the sidewalk and removes his sunglasses, revealing dark eyes flecked with gold. He’s shockingly handsome—like runway model handsome— combined with the grittiness of a rock star and the best parts of a native New Yorker. I’m wearing the tank top I slept in last night, a ratty old sports bra, and shorts I haven’t washed for two weeks.
This day is the pits.
“Because of your stupid van, I had to circle the surrounding blocks for twenty minutes to find a spot for my pickup truck. A paid, limited-parking, spot.”
“How is your poor car choice my fault? Who in their right mind has a pickup truck and lives in Brooklyn? You’re just asking for endless nights searching for parking. What do you do when it snows?”
The challenge in his eyes is like a book I have to devour. One flexed bicep, an arched eyebrow, and I’m hooked.
He shoots a disparaging glance at my van before asking, “You’re moving into this building?” He points at my new place.
I’ve propped the outer foyer door open and there are boxes preloaded onto a dolly at the top of the stoop.
“No.” I lay the sarcasm on thick. “I’ve come here to unload this van with the sole purpose of pissing you off. I thought, ‘who in all of New York can I make the most miserable today?’ ” I raise one arm in a fist pump. “I won!”
His eyes widen like he can’t believe I’m not backing down, and I might be hallucinating from the heat, but I swear I catch a smile before he starts laying into me again, our voices getting louder and louder.
“I don’t care what you’re doing; I need this spot for my truck, and you need to move.”
“I will move my truck when I’m good and ready.”
“You’ll move now.”
“No.”
“No? That’s it?”
“That’s it?” I repeat, dumbfounded. As if the world revolves around this asshole’s giant ego. “I’ll tell you what’s it. It’s ninety-eight degrees outside. I had to take a day off work to move because the management company of this stupid new building insists I move one week after signing the lease, much to the dismay of my boss, who was kinda pissed I didn’t come in today.”
He opens his mouth to speak and I cover it with my hand, unwilling to break my stride. I haven’t unloaded like this in years.
“And then the rental company loses my reservation for the van, and proceeds to send me to two consecutive branches 'till I found one that has the size I reserved. Two branches.
His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, but he doesn’t stop me. I’m on a damn roll, releasing pressure built by an awful day, and years of containing my opinion to the written word. I keep my hand on his lips, not because it feels nice or anything, but because I need to get this off my chest and he’s the unlucky bastard who’s gonna hear it. Not even an introvert of my level can keep it cool after the shit storm of my day.
“The Task Rabbit guys I hired to load the truck were an hour late and on the drive over no less than three cabbies-three-cut me off on the bridge, and I’m pretty sure I heard one of my boxes fall over and break as I swerved to get out of the way. And now, to put the icing on a great big turd of a cake, a loudmouth jackass is ordering me to move my van after getting a spot directly in front of my new building. He wants to shit on the one good thing that’s happened to me today. You want to know what’s it?” I’m panting it’s so hard to get the last words out.
“That’s fucking it.”
I’ve lived in various spots around New York City my entire life but until this moment I’ve never adhered to the loud-mouthed-I-don’t-need-a-filter culture. With this guy and his amber-streaked hair and gold cross around his neck-I let go of all my insecurities and worry over what people will think and just let it fly. Over a parking spot, of all things.
A freakin’ parking spot.
When he takes my hand away from his mouth, cradling my wrist with an almost shocking tenderness, making my skin itch, I ask, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
My yelling draws the attention of passing pedestrians. I think I see a smartphone or two recording us. He sees them too, a frown pulling his features into severity. It transforms his smooth edges into a creature of rougher origins, a true piece of him I find both unnerving and intriguing.
“I think I’m the guy who needs you to move your van, so I can park my pickup truck here, in the only spot on this block that fits it.” His voice is low, but there’s a definite heat behind it. Whether it’s the same annoyed tone from before or something new I can’t tell, and after the scene I just made, I don’t think I want to know.
He’s still holding my hand, swiping his thumb back and forth across my wrist.
“Do you verbally attack every unsuspecting person who parks in your spot, or am I just lucky?”
“Baby, you don’t know what lucky is, but I’d be more than happy to show you.”
That might be a warning or a come on...or both.
I advance on him, my bravado knowing no ends today. “Don’t call me baby, asshole.”
He matches me step for step. “Till you move out of my spot, I’ll call you what I want, baby.”
I want to kick him, but the way he says baby flashes through my body like a heat wave. A deliciously sexy heat wave.
Actually, I should kick myself to get my good sense back.
His hand is still holding my wrist. I’m starting to think I don’t want him to let go.
“Why don’t you go cool off with a walk around the block, go pump some iron, take some steroids, or do whatever it is you guido types do.”
“You say guido like it’s a bad thing. Where are you from that you can cast aspersions on my character?” He laughs when my eyebrows shoot up, casually leaning toward me as if I didn’t just spit my entire day up on him.
He finally lets go of my wrist, and I feel the loss of his heat, even in the humid air.
“Guidos know big words too, baby.”
God, why does fighting with him feel so good? I should want to smack him, and I do, but having his lips so close to mine makes me want different things. Sinful, sexy, and dirty things.
“You perpetuate that stereotype yourself. You’re doing it now, yelling at me like an Italian thug.”
His hand clutches his heart. “You wound me, baby. I should take you inside, throw you over my knee and teach you a lesson.”
His immodest threat makes me blush, but not because I’m scandalized, but because now I know I kinda want it. And God, he sees it. He sees the shift from anger to lust. He sees my skin flush in color from something other than fury, and he grabs hold.
“You can’t tell me to move the van,” I say before he can interject with another baby.
“I can tell you whatever I want; it’s up to you to behave and actually do it.”
“Who says I need to behave?”
“The laws of decency.”
“You’re screaming at an innocent woman like a madman, and you have the balls to call me indecent?”
“I have balls for many different scenarios. I keep them in a velvet-lined drawer and take them out when such occasions arise.”
Don’t laugh. Don’t fucking laugh.
I open my mouth to start another round, but before I can get a word in His Almighty Dickishness turns on a dime and flashes a roguish grin, the asshole gone in a flash. The result is devastating. His body is all fully-grown man, but his smile is whimsical and childlike, more open than what I’m prepared for. I was raised on cynicism and sarcasm. Pure honesty is alarming.
“Listen, the longer we stand here, the hotter and crankier I get. I’m gonna speed this up for us. What floor you movin’ into?”
“Why?”
He runs his hands through his hair, seeking an outlet. I know the feeling; I’m as jittery as kid with A.D.D. “I’m gonna help you move so you can get your ugly van out of my way.”
His offer, combined with the sudden change in his demeanor, throws me so far off balance I answer without thinking, “Third floor.”
“What a coincidence. I’m on the fourth. Welcome to the building. C’mon, baby, show me what you need moved.”
“You live here?”
“Yes.” He peers into the van, seeing all the boxes and furniture pieces I could cram into it. “Were you gonna move that loveseat by yourself?”
“You live here.” I point at my new address, making it obviously clear which building I mean because I need to know absolutely, without any doubt, that the man I’ve just screamed at, like a an unashamed weirdo, like I’m never gonna see him again, lives one floor above me. “At this building.”
“Yes. This building.” He grins, his teeth accompanied by a sparkle.
It is singularly unfair that a man so annoying can be so profoundly attractive. He’s checking all my boxes. Which only makes me angrier.
“I don’t need your help.” What I don’t need is this big gulp of man in my apartment. “I’m stronger than I look.”
He sighs, leans against the hated van with his arms in his pockets. Unassuming. Harmless. Ha!
“I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.”
I dip my chin and stare at him with an eyebrow arched in sarcastic doubt.
“Okay, I am sorry I made your day harder. Let me make it up to you. Let me help you move in.”
He doesn’t wait for me to accept, of course, just turns back to the open van, eyeing it like a mountain to be climbed.
“What do you want moved first?”
He’s genuine. He’s actually offering to help me, after spending a good twenty minutes making an ass of himself by demanding I move for his benefit. And all of sudden he’s helping me, like this is who he was all along. Like I’m not the only one who’s had a shit day.
“How about the ones labeled kitchen? That’s the best room in my apartment.” he chuckles to himself. I figure it must be an inside joke until he proves he’s gotta have the single most massive ego in all of Brooklyn. “It’s only the best due to my superb cooking. Do you like linguine?”
“Yes,” I mumble automatically, unable to deal with the shift in his demeanor. I’m practically out of breath from hollering at him, and my body is on a knife’s edge, tempted by this hunk of man, and he’s talking about fucking linguine.
“Baby.” There’s that word again. “You haven’t had linguine till you’ve had my linguine.”
Oh, I want his linguine.
Without another word he gathers two boxes, one on each shoulder. He looks like a textbook illustration of an ancient Roman hauling cement blocks to build a great structure.
He catches me staring and winks.
I will not let Lord Linguine show me up. I will prove I can do this by myself, and maybe that will make him go away. I grab a box, then another, and another, balancing them and forcing myself to smile. These boxes weigh nothing. I’m not killing myself in the heat to prove anything. I perform heavy lifting on a regular basis.
“You got-
“I’m fine,” I grunt, hobbling up the steps to the building, the weight of the boxes turning me slower than molasses.
The elevator is out of order-don’t cry, don’t cry-so it’s pointless to use the dolly. We’re forced to take the stairs.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Stop asking me,” I grunt.
Christ, this hurts so much. I’m going to die. My knees will break, and I’ll crumble in on myself, forced to listen to Lord Linguine laugh as he steps over me.
My foot catches on the top step, and the boxes start to tumble. Before I can even cry out, he’s there, deftly placing his boxes down to help me, making sure I don’t fall. One hand on my waist, the other supporting the three boxes.
“Thanks.” The adrenaline from the near fall pulses through my veins as I look up at him. We’re close, barely a breath apart, and I can’t catch my breath. I can’t stop looking into his eyes.
Is it possible for a man’s gaze to smolder and shine at the same time?
“You’re welcome.”
He sounds normal, no longer filled with false bravado, almost kind.
“What would my Ma say if I let you land ass up?”
There’s the idiot I’ve come to know.
We make it to the third floor, and I almost collapse when we reach my door.
“Is it unlocked?” Linguine asks, shuffling in front of me.
“Yes.”
He slides the door open, sets the boxes in the kitchen where I direct him to, as if they’re light as a feather, then comes over and takes all three of my boxes away. He doesn’t so much as grimace from the weight, and I hate him more than ever.
“Let’s take a break-
“Shut up, there’s still more.”
I ignore his deep chuckles as we go back to the van.
I don’t repeat my earlier folly, but I make him carry the heavier stuff to pay him back for being so smug. He doesn’t complain, just lugs another two boxes onto his shoulders and places them where I tell him.
I trail behind him each time we go back down the stairs to the first floor. His back muscles flex with every step, on display through the thin, white tank top. It’s a nice view, and I don’t stop myself from raking my gaze down his waist to what I can only describe as the most delicious bubble butt ensconced in pants tailor-made for his ass.
He faces me once he hits the sidewalk, a self-satisfied smirk highlighting a mouth and cheekbones I’m slowly starting to obsess over in my head, and I think he knows I’ve been looking. I don’t care. I’m taking full advantage of the view while I can, except when he calls me on it.
“You looking at my ass, baby?”
“No,” I say too quickly, cursing my lack of finesse.
“I can feel your eyes on me.”
“You’re hallucinating.” We get to the van, and I’m surprised by how little is left to move.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been looking at yours too.”
“You son of a-
“I’ve got time for one more trip,” he says, his arm brushing mine as he reaches for more boxes.
Electricity shoots through my body. Our eyes meet. He licks his lips. I can’t have him in my apartment anymore, filling it up with his raw energy and body so beautiful I’ve come to appreciate it for the work of art it is.
“You can stop right now, I didn’t need your help when I started, and I don’t need it now.”
He ignores me, grabbing another two boxes.
“I said I don’t need your-” He grabs two more boxes and runs up to the building, like a puppy stealing a shoe, trying to instigate a play session. Except this is a grown man who I can barely look at without thinking dirty thoughts. “-what a freaking asshole...
We’re in my apartment again, the space getting smaller and smaller with every second I’m near him. We’re so close to each other, yet a million miles away.
He sets the boxes by the entrance and runs his fingers through his hair as he straightens from a crouch, his slacks stretched taut over muscular thighs.
His hair looks soft. Does he highlight it to get that color? Beautiful amber streaks piercing through pitch black.
I push my hands through my curly, pixie-length haircut, mussing it up to distract myself. I gnaw at my bottom lip and press down till I feel a pinch, a reminder not to stare at him. It’s just so damn hard.
He catches me looking again, and I glance away, coming down from the high of strong emotions and physical exertion. But it’s not enough. I feel anxious and incomplete, like I’m missing something.
Like whatever is passing between us isn’t over.
“I’d say thank you, but I don’t think you helping me makes up for your dickishness earlier.” I shrug, unrepentant.
He doesn’t move, just keeps looking at me as his hands slowly lower. No other response. My heart beats a little faster when he licks his lips, and wet heat that has nothing to do with summer humidity blooms between my legs.
“You can go now.” I don’t really want him to go. I want him to stand in the middle of my apartment, so I can stare at him a while longer. The last time I was near a man so beautiful was for an article I wrote on the trials of the male model life. Those guys are paid to be gorgeous, but they’ve got nothing on Lord Linguine.
He nods, as though he hears and understands, but makes no moves to leave. He just keeps looking at me, and now he’s touching his bottom lip with his thumb. Dear Lord, his mouth is sumptuous. No, not just sumptuous. It’s fat and thick, made more tantalizing by the way it plumps whenever he bites down.
Who is this guy?
He’s been carrying my heaviest boxes up and down the stairs without a drop of perspiration, like some Greek god. I’m sweating worse than a roasted pig and am most likely still flushed and red after our argument-thanks, Irish coloring. My clothes are wrinkled and gross, and I can’t recall if I brushed my teeth this morning.
But I know the look he’s giving me, like there’s nothing in the world he wants more. It should scare me. I don’t know him at all, and yet...and yet...that itch in my skin is all from him. One argumentative word from my new neighbor and I’ve unleashed more personality on the world than in the past five years.
Male desire emanates from his gaze like the sun at high noon; no doubt I’ll get burned if I don’t protect myself. I would usually feel uncomfortable, wary even, if someone I don’t know keeps staring at me like he does, but after spending the last hour with him—feeling his hand on my back when I nearly missed a step on one of our ascents, staring at his ass, watching his muscles tense and roll with every step, watching his lips like my favorite TV show—all I feel is an intense need.
The realization slaps me in the face so hard I nearly take a step back.
I want Lord Linguine. I want his beautiful body covering mine. I want his lips on places that haven’t felt the touch of a man in longer than I care to admit. I want him inside me. I want him to use my body till I’m wrung out and this awful day is erased.
But all I say is, “See you around the building.”
Again, no response, just staring, with the occasional lip licks or flickers of his gaze. He’s looking at my body the same way I’m looking at his. Seeing him want me only makes me want him more.
Proof of his humanity shows as moisture drips down the side of his tanned face, tripping over a thin layer of manicured stubble. Shit, he’s beautiful, in a brutal, New York City way. And considering the way he shifts, his tight-fitting trousers stretching taut, a long hard line now highlighted at the front of his pants, I’m pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing about me.
I bite my bottom lip deliberately to see what he does. He watches the move then finally speaks. His voice is as far from the riotous nature of our initial encounter as it can get.
“I could stay, help you unpack some stuff.”
I nearly prevaricate, but decide to stick to honesty. We both know what’s happening here.
“That’s not what would happen if you stayed.”
“It’s your choice. If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll leave. We’ll nod at each other as we pass in the hallway, like this was an unremarkable encounter. We’ll go back to being strangers. I don’t want that, but I promise I’ll leave if you do.”
“Oh, now you care what I think?” Stalling. Stalling, I am so stalling.
“I’ve been hanging on your every word for the past hour, and in no world would I ever want to make a woman uncomfortable, so yeah, I care a whole fucking lot.” His body is tense, practically vibrating, yet he stays put. Waiting for me.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
Do I want what he’s offering?
“I’ll make you feel so good.”
Uninhibited sex between strangers?
After the day I’ve had?
He takes a step forward. We’re nearly on top of each other now. My hands itch to touch him. “Say yes.”
Fuck yes, I do.
“Yes.”





Author Bio


Ceri is the author of quirky and sexy contemporary romance novels. She has a major weakness for sappy cuddle moments as much as hot and steamy sex scenes, and a penchant for writing snappy and sarcastic dialogue. She loves romance that isn't afraid to be awkward and uncouth, and thrives on flawed characters with big hearts.

A New York native, Ceri now lives in California with her two cats, Mercy and Eugene Fitzherbert, who should be very thankful she didn't name him frying pan. She is a proud functioning introvert and lover of all things geeky. You can find her haunting the Twitter machine or posting pictures of her ridiculous cats on Instagram.

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Book Blitz + Giveaway: You Send Me by Jeannie Moon




Title: You Send Me
Series: Compass Cove #2
Author: Jeannie Moon
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 29, 2018



Blurb

Jordan Velsor didn’t want to need anyone. After dumping her cheating fiancé, caring for her sick dad, and nearly being crushed along with her car during a violent storm, she’s pretty much at her breaking point. If anyone needs some luck, it’s Jordan, but the last thing she wants is gorgeous Nick Rinaldi, her landlord’s grandson, hovering over her while she nurses a bad cold. The wounded Navy doctor seems too good to be true… which means he probably is.

Nick Rinaldi left the Navy broken and adrift, wondering if he would ever practice medicine again. When his grandparents’ tenant is almost killed by a falling tree during a storm, he discovers Jordan is not only in shock, but suffering from pneumonia. Not one to miss an opportunity to play white knight, Nick arrives at her cottage to take care of her during the storm… But the lovely teacher has a fierce independent streak, and as he learns more about her, he wants to do more than merely help.

Can Jordan and Nick let go or their separate pasts and seize their future together?







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Excerpt

Prologue
Nine Months Ago
Jordan Velsor expected her last night as a single woman to be spent dreaming about her fairy tale wedding. Instead, she was sitting on the beach behind her cottage, drinking expensive champagne straight from the bottle, and wondering how she could have been so stupid.
Wearing a pair of threadbare yoga pants and gray hoodie, she dug her perfectly polished pink toes into the cool, wet sand and shivered. If it was a normal night, Jordan would have thought the chill was from the cool breeze coming off Jennings Bay. But tonight was anything but normal.
Tonight, Jordan had been played for a fool. She’d become a cliché.
Her whole life—the future she’d had planned, everything she thought she’d wanted—fell apart before she could process how it all happened.
“Jesus. There you are.” Jordan recognized her friend Lilly’s voice right away. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to be found.” Jordan grumbled.
With a flick of her wrists, the old plaid beach blanket Lilly was carrying floated up and then slowly dropped to the sand next to Jordan. “Get up and sit on this. Your ass is going to get all wet.”
So what? Was all Jordan thought. Who cared if her ninety-dollar thong got salty and sandy? No one was going to see it. “Please tell me you brought more alcohol.”
“Yep. And food. I brought cheese and bread from brunch today. Oh, and I stole some cupcakes from the rehearsal dinner.”
It all sounded good, but Jordan had no appetite. “They’re probably going to sue me for calling it all off. I just couldn’t…”
Lilly looped her arm around Jordan’s shoulder. “You owe me no explanation. As far as I’m concerned you did the right thing.”
The sound of the waves crashing on the beach matched the rushing in Jordan’s head. It was an endless thundering noise that rattled her nerves, and it was all caused by the scene she walked in on that day at Chase’s office.
Her perfect fiancé—the tall, blonde and handsome lawyer, the millionaire and favorite son of a prominent family—was caught with his pants down, grinding against his secretary. Her blouse was open, her pencil skirt hiked up to her waist and she had one long leg snaked around his hip.
Jordan’s voice caught in her throat at the sight of her future husband with another woman, and she started backing out of the office. Chase never would have known she was there if she hadn’t bumped into a desk chair, knocking it into a wire cart, which then tipped over.
That foiled her plan of running, because once Chase turned and saw her, the truth of her life as it could be became clear. Things like this happened, Chase explained. And it was time she understood that.
His secretary never came out of the office, and when her fiancé closed the door to shield the woman inside, Jordan’s heart slammed shut.
Things like this might happen in other marriages, but not in hers. It was over.
“Want to talk about it?” Lilly wouldn’t press, but since she was the one who ran interference when Jordan told Chase and his family that the wedding was off, she figured she had a right to know.
“He’s been cheating.”
“I got that much,” Lilly snarled—loyal to the core. “The rat bastard.”
“His family told me I was overreacting. You know, “I’m naïve. He’s a red-blooded man.”
“That’s such bullshit.”
“That’s pretty much what I said.” Jordan took a long pull on the bottle of champagne and realized she’d drained it. “Jeez. Cristal sure goes down easy.”
“So, it’s over.”
“Yep. My dream wedding, my marriage, my life all went ‘poof!’”
“I never liked him.”
That brought a smile to her lips. “I know.”
“Now what?”
“I come back to reality. I stop living in my dreams, and face my life going forward. That’s it. No more romantic fantasies for me. They just aren’t worth it.”






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Author Bio

Jeannie Moon has always been a romantic. When she's not spinning tales of her own, Jeannie works as a school librarian, thankful she has a job that allows her to immerse herself in books. Married to her high school sweetheart, Jeannie has three kids, three lovable dogs, and resides on Long Island, NY. If she's more than ten miles away from salt water for any longer than a week, she gets twitchy. Visit her website at www.jeanniemoon.com;



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