Friday, June 29, 2018

Release Boost + Giveaway: Whiskey Girl by Adriane Leigh




Title: Whiskey Girl
Author: Adriane Leigh
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 26, 2018



Blurb

She was the one thing holding him together. Until she was gone.
And then there was whiskey.

Fallon Gentry has spent the last decade reliving one dark night in his head. The moment he lost the woman he loved when a single blink cascaded into a series of events that stole both of their lives. Now his nights are spent playing music in southern honky-tonks and nursing the memory of her the only way he knows how–at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. 

A brief stint in Nashville, a hit song, and a brush with Hollywood couldn't bring him closer to God, but when the ghost of Augusta Belle Branson appears in his corner of another lonely dive bar late after dark, he's forced to confront everything he thought he knew about that fateful night, and a few things he didn't.

He’s her contradiction, she’s his salvation.

A firestorm of emotion consumes them when they come together after ten lost years, every moment more revealing, more unpredictable, more intoxicating than the next until the only reckoning left for Fallon is the one he must make with himself. But this time, fate may have left an after-burn too bitter to swallow. This time, he may lose his whiskey girl for good.


An unforgettable, epic love story about two lost souls who, against all odds, find themselves through their passion and music. Filled with raw emotion, this lyrical, all-the-feels masterpiece may catapult Adriane Leigh into the league of Colleen Hoover, Brittainy Cherry, and L.J. Shen. — Nelle L'Amour, New York Times Bestselling author of THAT MAN







Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU





Excerpt

One

Fallon
The first time I met Augusta Belle Branson, she was fixin’ on killin’ herself.
Said the minute I’d walked up, she was tryin’ to decide if jumpin’ off the bridge in the center—where the water was deep and the current stronger—would be a swifter end, or if she should jump near the edge, where jagged limestone slabs anchored the slow-moving current.
Certain death for sure. 
I replayed the split second when the Indian summer sun burst through the orange oak leaves, a halo of warmth enveloping her.
Like an angel. Stardust sparkling straight from heaven, ploppin’ her in my path.
And then she turned, the most startling shade of liquid amber eyes breathing something real and alive, like fire, into my soul.
That same something I’d been runnin’ from—or chasin’, dependin’ on how you looked at it—just about every day since.
I settled myself on the lone wooden stool that awaited at center stage, my thoughts drawing back to the present. My head swam, but the old familiar chords floated on through the current of whiskey in my blood, and I strummed the first few notes of a song I wrote a lot of nights ago by an act of sheer muscle memory.
Old acoustic guitar resting on my knee, my first and third fingers in position on the strings, the opening chords of “Whiskey Girl” bled from my fingers.
Every chord, another dagger.
Every whispered lyric, my undoing.
I still didn’t know what the fuck had overtaken me the night I’d written this song in a fevered rush.
Well, the booze might have played a part, but I happened to think my best shit came out of uninhibited states.
I’d just had a fuckton of uninhibited states recently.
And the harder the liquor, the more she haunted me.
Whiskey Girl.
My poisoned lullaby.
The crowd of a few hundred erupted into a standing ovation when I ended with the final, emotion-charged words.
The irony of this song was it was the one that’d launched my career. The first single to hit radio waves and then the top spot on the Billboard charts, and brought reporters, music executives, long-lost family members I wasn’t even really sure I was related to, and too much other scum with an end game that carried dollar signs to my front doorstep.
I’d moved to Nashville a rising star and left two years later, middle finger in the air as I tossed my once-promising music career out with last night’s liquor bottles in favor of the open road.
Chasing something.
Not finding the one thing I needed.
Playing local honky-tonks for a fraction of the money I could have made.
But the truth was, the road was the only place I could find my happy.
A familiar ball of pain formed in my throat as I stood, pushing my guitar over one shoulder and bowing deeply. I couldn’t see a single face behind the glaring stage lights, but still, some part of me pretended she could be out there, that I was singing to her.
That she would hear her song and find her way back to me.
After hundreds of faceless crowds and too many bottles of Tennessee whiskey to bother counting, I still felt the pull inside me to travel to every town in America if that’s what it took to find her.
Hell, maybe she was happily married with a few kids, a dog, and a fucking minivan by now.
I nodded my head, giving one last wave to the crowd in the dark beyond, then left the stage, taking the steps two at a time and angling past the curtains to head for the tiny-ass dressing room this dive bar provided. Heading for another chug of amber gold before packing my shit into my truck and hitting the road.
I pushed a hand through my hair, thinking maybe a shower would be in order before I bailed, when a curvy little thing backed right up into me.
My palms landed on her shoulders, warm blond waves falling in a cascade over one side. The heady scent of peaches and honey filled my nostrils. My eyes slammed closed and brought me back to summer nights under a giant oak, fireflies melding together with the stars above like a painting.
“Sorry, I just dropped my phone.” The sweet-scented creature spun, brilliant smile falling from her face when our eyes made contact for the first time.
Every coldhearted memory slammed into my chest like a pallet of bricks.
I narrowed my eyes, gaze tracing the familiar yet unfamiliar angles of her porcelain face.
She was thinner now, cheeks sharp slashes of bone that highlighted her always-devastating round eyes and full lips. It was her, all right. I’d know this woman anywhere.
“Hi, Fallon.” I’d been dreamin’ of this moment for the better part of a decade, and still, my heart wasn’t prepared for those two words. My name on her lips left me with a toxic reaction.
My whiskey girl.
My damnation and my salvation.
“I need a fucking minute.” I dropped my hands from her shoulders, her skin still haunting my fingertips, and walked straight down the narrow hallway, pushing the rusted back door open so hard the hinges protested.
Warm night air filled my lungs, replacing the empty feeling seeing her again had left.
“Fallon…” Hell, she’d followed me out.
And hell if wanted her to, but I didn’t not want her to either.
The emotions bombarding my mind were just a-fucking-bout unbearable.
“I said I need a fucking minute.” The sentence came out as more of a growl than I intended. Before she could reply, I stomped across the potholed parking lot, aiming for my heavy-duty Ford.
I yanked the door open, digging behind the driver’s seat for a fresh bottle of my favorite recipe.
I couldn’t be bothered to retrieve the half-full bottle I’d left in my dressing room. I had to get as far the fuck away from her just to clear my head and process what her being here even meant.
My hands circled the neck of the bottle, and I opened it in a flash, chugging back the first warm bite of pleasure I’d been craving.
I tossed the cap on my dash and fished the keys out of my pocket, about to climb into the cab and make hay, when fingertips painted a dark navy filtered into my vision and back out again, my goddamn truck keys hanging from one finger.
“Fuck,” I bit out, crawling out of the cab and swiping for the keys.
My reactions were a helluva lot slower than I thought they were. How much of that bottle had I drunk before the show? I shook the thought from my head, realizing this was probably about close to my average state of play on any given day. Runnin’ away from the life Augusta Belle and I’d had took something out of me. Something only whiskey could fill.
“I don’t care what your stupid ass does on your own time, but you’re not dying on mine, Fallon Gentry.”
My head pounded then. A whole fucking sentence out of her pretty pink lips, and my body’s old dependable reaction to her infuriating every cell of me.
I’d never been in control when it came to Augusta. Shouldn’t have been surprised it was no different now.
“As irritating as ever, I see,” I said, swiping for my keys one more time and missing before I stumbled off around her, whiskey bottle clutched in my hand and hell on my mind.
Augusta was back, and there wasn’t enough whiskey in the state of Tennessee to help me deal.





Author Bio


Adriane Leigh is an Amazon Top 25 and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and erotic romance. Raised in a snowbank in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, she was born with a book in her hand and won her first Young Authors award before the age of ten. She finished her first romance novel at 14, and hasn't stopped playing with words since. She earned a literature degree, co-founded and organized international book conventions with RARE: Romance Author & Reader Events, and has written more than 45 independent titles under various pen names.

Married to her own Prince Charming, she now lives among the sand dunes of Lake Michigan, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She's a romantic rebel and word junkie that believes wanderlust is life, is part of the #goodvibetribe, and wishes she had more time to read and knit scarves to keep her cozy during the arctic Michigan winters. Yoga pants, puppies, and mac and cheese also help. Never miss a release! Get an alert at: http://www.adrianeleigh.com

Praise for Adriane's work:

“Sizzling chemistry, a glamorous world, plot twists…a perfect combination held together with Adriane Leigh’s addictive writing. I dove into this world, and didn’t want to come up for air. I can’t wait for more!” – 
Alessandra Torre, Hollywood Dirt

“Adriane Leigh never dissapoints with equal amounts of heat and heart with all the sex, suspense and scandal…Leigh’s newest mysterious hero will have you anxiously flipping pages well into the night trying to uncover his secrets.” – 
Jay Crownover, Marked Men



Author Links

Blog Tour: Billionaire's Matchmaker by Sierra Cartwright




Titans
An exclusive private society of the world’s most powerful ambitious gentlemen
Sex, Secrets, and Intrigue
Billionaire's Matchmaker

Rich, powerful men don’t intimidate matchmaker Hope Malloy. So when she’s hired to find a bride for billionaire Rafe Sterling, she’s certain the assignment will be easy. Not only is he sexy and a renowned philanthropist, the man is heir to one of the country’s largest hotel fortunes. Who wouldn’t want to marry him?
The last thing Rafe wants is a wife. Too bad it's the one thing he desperately needs. His father ran off with a woman half his age, and Rafe can't become permanent CEO of Sterling Worldwide unless he's married.
When he’s ambushed by the competent matchmaker, he’s captivated by her intelligence and seductive innocence.
All of a sudden, he is thinking about a future and having her under his complete and total command.
Will she run when she discovers his deepest, darkest secrets and shocking, sensual demands?
* * Although Billionaire’s Matchmaker is part of the Titans world, this sexy story is a standalone book with a feel-good Happily Ever After * *


 

The air conditioner kicked on. The whispering cool air did nothing to dissipate the heat between Rafe and Hope, his beautiful, but unwanted matchmaker. He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, then feathered his fingers into her hair. “I want to kiss you, Ms. Malloy.” “Uhm…” “Ask me to.” She scowled. “I won’t have you pretending that you’re not curious. This room is swimming with your pheromones. Deny it.” She sagged a little against his hand, and he tightened his grip on her hair, as much to offer support as to imprison her. “You’ll remember this moment, fantasize about being mine.” “No…” “Invite me to kiss you or tell me to release you. The power is yours. Yield to temptation or leave, wondering if it’s as good as you imagine it will be.” “This can’t be happening.” Despite her protest, she didn’t try to escape. “It’s the first time I’ve had any sexual longing for an adversary. Ask me to kiss you,” he repeated instead of arguing. “Be sure to say please.” He loosened his grip, and she leaned toward him, keeping herself hostage. Rafe didn’t smile with triumph. “Kiss me.” “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more.” That wasn’t the entire truth. There were a hundred things he’d like to do to her, but he made no move Her internal standoff lasted longer than he thought it would. Excellent. She had a stubborn streak. Hope glanced away and sighed. Then she looked at him with clear, confident eyes. “Please kiss me.” He could drown in her and be happy about it. He captured her chin to hold her steady. On her lips, he tasted the sweetness of her capitulation. “Open your mouth, sweet Hope.” She did, and he entered her mouth, slower than he would ordinarily, softer than he would if she were his submissive. Hope responded with hesitation, and he continued on, driving deeper, seeking more. Within seconds, she yielded. She moaned and raised onto her tiptoes to lean into him. A few seconds beyond that, she wrapped her arms around him. Hope, his adversary, had now become his willing captive. He released her chin and moved his hand to the middle of her back, then lower to the base of her spine. Rafe drank in the scent of her femininity. His cock surged, not from ordinary arousal, but from soul-deep recognition. Her eagerness sought the Dom in him. It took all his restraint not to press his palm against her buttocks. He wasn’t sure how he’d banish this memory of her—strength and suppleness in one heady package. She offered more until she was panting and desperate, gripping him hard. Instead of giving in to the driving need to possess her, he distracted himself by tugging on her hair harder. As he’d requested, her eyes were open. So trusting. Did she have any idea how close he was to shredding the veneer of civilization that hung between them to claim her, mark her as his?

Start the Titans series with the Sexiest Billionaire’s for FREE



USA Today Best-Selling Author, Winner of the 2015 Best BDSM Book of the year (Bind), 2015 Reader’s Choice Best Erotic Romance (Bind), 2015 Golden Flogger (Crave), 2014 LASR Book of the Year award (In The Den), 2013 Best BDSM Book of the Year award (Over The Line), Golden Flogger Award 2015 nominee for her books Command, Bind, and Brand.
Sierra was born in Manchester, England where she spent her early years traipsing through castles. After living in Denver for a number of years, the internationally acclaimed author now resides in Galveston, Texas. She loves the way history blends with Southern manners (being called “sugar” is an experience unto itself).
She invites you to join her on a sensual journey where the limits are explored and expanded.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Catch a Shooting Star by Louisa Masters

A cleaner, a football player, and a drug scandal… who said wishes don’t come true?

Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
Stand-alone Novel

Social misfit Jessamy James pays the bills with a cleaning job so she can do what she really loves—tell stories to children. When she meets NFL superstar Nathan Powell while scrubbing unknown substances from his kitchen floor, Jess is as wary as she is confused. Never has she met a man with so much trust in the world, and he’s never met anyone he couldn’t charm. Outwardly, they’re complete opposites, but Nathan is intrigued by Jess’s reclusive attitude, and she’s drawn to his open personality. The attraction between them is inevitable.

When Nathan is dragged into a drug scandal, Jess is caught up in the media storm and finds her own vocation slipping through her fingers. As they struggle to clear his name and rescue both their careers, Jess and Nathan discover that sometimes all you can do is wish upon a shooting star.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Do Not Respond by M.R. Field




Title: Do Not Respond
Author: M.R. Field
Genre: Romantic Comedy/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 29, 2018



Blurb

“Stick to the rules and you won’t have a problem working for this arrogant, sanctimonious cad.”


The Rules of DNR: How to Survive Working for Cole Lawson


Do Not Emails are meant to be sent to yourself only—never to be re-read or responded to.

Vent about your mean boss and don’t focus on the scruff on his chin. Ignore the butterflies that flutter as he stares back at you and concentrate on his condescending tone.

I wish I’d listened.

I wish I’d never drank my body weight in vodka and sent him a venting email, telling him exactly what I really thought about his Lycra-wrapped package and the way he makes my body hum.

The last thing I needed was to break those DNR rules and send an email to my boss.

Work is about to get a lot more interesting. What have I got myself into?







Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Releasing on the following platforms
on July 3, 2018






Excerpt


I stand and move my laptop to the other side of the desk and shuffle in my chair, tidying around it before watering my bamboo plant. My water bottle is empty, so I walk to the bathroom to refill it; I open the door and freeze.


Oh, my God.

Standing in the opened shower door is a very naked, wet, lean, and did I mention naked, Cole. The water continues to fall across his body and I’m trapped looking at him. How is water not going everywhere? His left arm is up against the wall as his other hand is moving up and down his cock. My pulse quickens and my grip tightens on the doorknob. I stand mesmerised, watching his shoulder muscles move with every stroke.

Holy shit he’s filled out since I saw him shirtless at the beach last. I can’t get over what my fingers ran over last night. He groans and I bite my lip, taking one more peek at his hand and then bum. Yes, it looks even better out of suit pants.

I remember squeezing that.

Okay. Not helping my libido. Time to do something about it.

I step in and close the door, flicking the lock behind me. Cole’s head turns to me, his hand halting, still grasping his hard cock. I run my eyes down his body and lick my bottom lip. I watch his taut muscles as I rest my eyes on his hand. His thumb brushes over the head of his cock and warmth gathers between my thighs.

I want him inside me so badly but his hand enthrals me. I walk towards him and join him in the shower room, closing that door behind me as well. My gaze flicks up to his. Water runs down the back of his head, covering his hot body.

The open doorway makes it almost impossible for me to not join him. But I want to watch him.

“I dare you,” I beg.

“To do what, Letty?” He asks seductively. Luring me in, making me move closer.

“Show me.” I move my hand towards my chest. “I want you to finish.”

“I’ll show you what you do to me.” His voice deepens, his eyes darkening. His elbow tenses. His hand tightens. The head of his cock throbs. He shifts his hand up along his shaft, and my eyes couldn’t leave him if I tried.






Author Bio

M R Field is an author from Rural Victoria and has completed a Bachelor's degree with Honours from Latrobe University, Melbourne. After growing up with the river at her front door, she returned back to her hometown after many years of living in the city. She now lives a tranquil lifestyle with her husband, two young children and effervescent dog, Zephyr .

M R Field has always held a love for writing, filling journals as a child which progressed to more eloquent pieces as an adult. After ten years of creative instruction, she decided to turn these ideas into manuscripts. She adores creating new story lines and is a big fan of a happily ever after, but believes strongly in making her characters work for it.

She has recently decided to join the independent publishing world with her debut novel, Fragments, which released late 2014, alongside its subsequent novel, Splinters that released in 2015. Fractures, her latest novel released on October, 25th 2016. Do Not Respond, a standalone comedy, is releasing June 2018.


Author Links

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Rockaway Bride by Pippa Grant




Title: Rockaway Bride
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Sexy Romantic Comedy
Release Date: June 29, 2018



Blurb

A Rockstar Bridenaps a Preschool Teacher...

Kidnapping the bride seemed like a good idea at the time.

Her fiancé stole my fortune, so I stole his woman.

Tit for tat. Or tat for tit. However you want to look at it.

The one thing I didn’t expect?

Willow Honeycutt, preschool teacher, boy band super fan, is completely crazy.

And somehow she’s turned the tables on me.

Now, she’s holding me hostage, and she won’t let me go until we hit every item on her sparkly new, completely insane bucket list.

And that last item?

That last item might cost me more than any fortune.

It very well might cost me my heart.

Rockaway Bride is a romping fun romance between a down-on-his-luck rock star and a boy band-loving preschool teacher, complete with a road trip, handcuffs, and fun with nuns. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a rockin' awesome happily ever after.







Purchase Links

$2.99 for a limited time

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited






Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited


AUDIO PRE-ORDER

Releasing July 3, 2018




AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited




AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU


Free in Kindle Unlimited






Author Bio

Pippa Grant is a stay-at-home mom and housewife who loves to escape into sexy, funny stories way more than she likes perpetually cleaning toothpaste out of sinks and off toilet handles. When she’s not reading, writing, sleeping, or trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, she’s fantasizing about chocolate chip cookies.


Author Links