Showing posts with label book tour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book tour. Show all posts

Release Blitz + Review :: Nailed :: Staci Hart

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NAILED (an erotic short)
Staci Hart
Publication Date: December 15, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Erotic Romance

Synopsis:

Everyone wants to get nailed.

Sometimes the first thing you feel for someone is lust. Maybe it's for a stranger. It might be someone you've only just noticed, or someone whom you've known, but aren't allowed to want. Maybe you just don't know if they're affected by you, if the sound of their voice or the way they touch your hand makes them as crazy as it makes you.

Or, perhaps they want you just as badly as you want them. Sometimes, it's all you can do to stop yourself from acting on it.

#getnailed with these erotic shorts



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Captain's Log :: Review

*sigh*

I loved these delicious little bites that Staci has gifted us. These amazing, perfect little tiny stories that make you squirm in the best way possible.

This book was kind of like eating a chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven: dangerously hot, but simply delicious.


About the Author

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Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life -- a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey.
From roots in Houston to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.

Connect with the Author:

Release Blitz + Review + Excerpt :: Being Brooke :: Emma Hart

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My name is Brooke Barker…
And I’m a freaking disaster.
No, seriously. I’m a college drop-out working a dead-end job, my best friend Carly’s dog gets more action than I do, and I have more bad dates in my diary than there are movie remakes.
Not to mention I’m completely and utterly in love with Cain Elliott.
The problem? He’s in a relationship. With a girl who’s so plastic she makes Barbie cry herself to sleep with jealousy.
The second problem? He’s my best friend.
My shut-up-and-put-harry-potter, yes-this-is-your-shirt, help-I-have-no-power, crap-I’m-out-of-tampon, kinda best friend.
And that’s all he can be, right?
Right.
Being Brooke is a standalone romantic comedy. Hilarious, super-sexy, and possibly highly inappropriate at times, this is the perfect feel-good read!

iBOOKS / B&N

Amazon:

Captain's Log :: Review

This book was hilarious and such a fun, quick read for me. I loved the trope here and have always been a big fan of Emma's work. Emma's writing is spot-on. Brooke completely lacks a filter and even though she ends up in murky waters often because of it, it's so real and easy to connect with.

This story had a fantastic plot and I loved the direction it took. But I'm not spoiling it for you! GO ONE CLICK THIS ONE!

Falling for her best friend wasn't something Brooke planned on - it just happened that way. The shenanigans that Brooke goes through in order to separate herself from Cain and endure their friendship led to some of the funniest things I've read in a while.

This book is so different for Emma Hart, but it was also so very her. The writing and the characters that you connect with are quintessential Emma Hart.

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Excerpt:
  Cain’s phone begins to buzz on the table. The screen lights up, and the short name on the screen makes me have to fight a frown. I know it’s Nina. It always is. It’s like she has a Brooke-dar. She can sense whenever Cain and I are alone and hanging out. My heart sinks, slowly but heavily, and I school my expression into one of not caring. I refuse to look away from the TV now. Cain hands me his pizza box, which I take, begrudgingly, then he leans forward and grabs his phone. He waits for the buzzing to stop, then unlocks it and turns it off vibrate. Then? Then he shoves it under the table, screen down. Ho. Lee. Shit. I gape at him. I can’t help it. A piece of pepperoni drops off the slice of pizza in my hand—the same one that’s frozen halfway to my mouth as I stare at him in total disbelief. Did he really just do it? “What?” Cain shrugs and takes his box back, grabbing a piece of half-eaten, meaty pizza and shoving the end in his mouth. The crust crunches as he bites down. I swallow and glance at the coffee table. “I don’t think you’ve ever not taken a call from her.” I can’t help the derogatory way I say ’her’. It’s not intentional—honest. It’s ingrained in me to be vicious to other women. I think it’s a female thing. Self-preservation and all that. “I don’t think I ever haven’t either.” Cain tilts his head to the side and meets my gaze, a suspicious glint in his green eyes. “But the point is, we haven’t done this in weeks, and I’m having too much fun to leave. Besides, we have all this junk food. If I don’t help you eat it, you’ll eat it all, then it’ll be my fault when your pants don’t fit.” Oh my god. “Does she know you’re here?” I smirk slyly and raise my eyebrows. He shifts uncomfortably. With a cough, he puts his pizza down and grabs his beer bottle to swig from it. Oh. My. Shitty. Life. “She doesn’t, does she?” I sit up straight, throwing my half-slice back into my box and shoving his shoulder. “Cain!” “No,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his ear. “She doesn’t know.” I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s totally immature of me to delight in the fact he hasn’t told the Prissy Princess where is he and he’s ignoring her calls, but I do. It’s hilarious. And, okay. I’m smug. Totally smug. There’s only one reason he hasn’t told her, and that’s because she hates me too. Bitchy Best Friend Mission: Level Up! “And tell me.” I snicker, just about holding back the volcano of laughter threatening to erupt. “Where does Nina think you are?” “She thinks I’m at Mom’s.” He looks at me, his lips flattening into a thin line. “Stop laughing, B. No, don’t shake your damn head. I fucking mean it. She’s a little insecure over my friendship with you and Carly, that’s all. Sometimes it’s easier to just tell a... little white lie.” “A little white lie? She thinks you’re at your mom’s!” I laugh harder and wipe at my eyes because they feel a little too wet. “I just want the best of both worlds right now, all right?” “What is the best of both worlds? Pizza with me and blow jobs from her?” “She chooses not to eat gluten. Until she finds a gluten-free recipe she likes, I can’t eat pizza when she’s around.” Which is a lot. I raise my eyebrows again. “Your girlfriend won’t eat gluten but she’ll happily put your dick in her mouth?” “Brooke. Don’t be a bitch.” He chucks a piece of chicken from his pizza at me, his eyes narrowing. I’m dying. I think this is it—this is how I die, laughing at Cain’s lame excuses for lying to his girlfriend about spending time with me. “Oh my fuck. This is hilarious. Seriously. Someone call Comedy Central.” “Brooke.” He says my name again, this time quieter. I stop laughing. Just about. “I’m sorry. I just think it’s funny. You want me to be nice to her but you lie to her about spending time with me.” I shrug a shoulder and peel a piece of pepperoni off my pizza. I’m not even that hungry anymore. He sighs, putting the top down on his box, and sits back. “She thinks there’s something going on between us.” I laugh even harder because I might cry if I don’t. Hi, breaking heart. Grab the tissues, yo. There’s an awkward silence hanging between us now. It’s not the first time someone has thought that, but given that the more time I spend with Cain, the more I seem to fall for him, it’s awkward. Especially since he’s lying to her just to hang out with me. I clear my throat and look up at him. “That’s ridiculous. You’re my best friend. Like anything would ever happen between us. I can’t put up with your shit taste in music, for a start.” “Exactly,” he replies in a quieter voice, scratching behind his ear again. “It’s fucking stupid. I can’t stand your taste in music either. Who the fuck likes Justin Bieber?” “People who think Kanye West should retire.” beingbrooke-lifetip5  
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By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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Release Blitz + Excerpt :: Dark Surrender :: Rachel Van Dyken



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Dark Surrender is LIVE and only $1.99! So snag this complete paranormal stand alone and read all about why having a male siren try to seduce you isn't all it's cracked up to be!




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Blurb
Never met a male siren before?
You're about to....

I grew up as a prince...
And lead the life of a King.
There isn't anyone or anything that doesn't want me, that isn't attracted to me. They can't help it. And I sure as hell don't want them to. I live for their lust, I crave touch like an addiction, I make them beg on their knees for one, simple, caress.
As a male siren it's my job to feed off emotion.
And I was happy to do it.
I am happy to do it.
What I'm not happy about? Being told I have to mate with some withering human and stay loyal to that one person for the next few centuries. There's a war coming and being the idiot I am--I offered to take one for the team in order to help a friend.
Now my sexual appetite is taking a freaking kick in the nuts.
And I'm left wondering if it's worth it.
If she's worth it, with messy hair and dirty human hands.
But I have a world to save.
A job to do.
Now, if only, she would just let me do it rather than fighting me at every turn. I've lived lifetimes as the most irresistible being on the planet.
Only to meet my match.
With one.
Measly.
Human.
They say hells hot. They're wrong.
Because Hope, my little human, is way hotter.
And before this is over--she may just singe me alive.

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Excerpt

To say I was pissed.
To say I was angry
To say I was intrigued.
I couldn’t decide which emotion was going to win out, which made her all the more exciting. Sirens, for the most part, kept their physical appearance at a five. On a scale of one to ten, a five meant that you were clearly above average but not to the point that a person would literally sell a kidney and spleen in order to sleep with you.
No, the selling of body parts came at six.
Seven meant they were willing to commit a crime and sell body parts.
Eight was when they neared the wailing stage. I typically called it bartering, where they asked what they could possibly do in order to gain just one taste, anything, anything at all!
Nine was a rarity. I was a nine when I was tired, when I wanted a piece of ass from someone hot, and I didn’t want to make a big fuss over it. But a nine was dangerous because showing myself at a nine made it easier to wipe the individuals’ memories. Meaning I was more than likely cursing them to a life where they would never settle down because they’d be stuck comparing me to some sad human male with a beer gut, and he’d always fall short.
Even the Toms fell short.
Tom Brady.
Tom Hardy.
You get the picture.
In my entire existence, I’ve pulled a nine maybe four times. And each time I felt regretful — after all the sex had never been worthy of ruining some pathetic human’s chance at love.
And tens?
Tens weren’t done. To become a ten in front of a human would be the equivalent of a human discovering the sweetest tasting sin, the most physical and emotional ecstasy known over and over again. Add that in with good looks that made women, men, plants, atoms — you get the picture — full-on weep, and it just wasn’t done.
Never.
In fact, some might say it was forbidden.
I’d never been tempted.
Until five minutes ago.
I was currently at an eight, flirting with a ten, and she’d finally succumbed enough to fall to her knees, but when she glanced up, she blinked a few times then stood. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.”
The hell?
I did a double take, my eyes narrowing as she shuddered before me, but still, nothing. No weeping. No sudden burst of adoration.
Nine, here I come.
I exhaled as I allowed my hair to go pure gold and my eyes to turn a shade of amber that looked like a never-ending ring of fire around my blue iris. I released waves of energy that I could see pulsing from my body with each exhale, and I was aware that she was being assaulted with my scent, a mixture of rain, fresh air, and finally a deep sweet chocolate.
The most addicting scents known to mankind.
The most cleansing scents to a human.
Her eyes widened as she gulped and then squeezed them shut and covered her face with her hands, her knees knocked together as she swayed.
“Open your eyes, human!”
“I-I’d rather not,” she said in a weak voice.
“Now!” The walls of the room shook causing a shriek to explode between her lips, and suddenly she was moving towards me and launching her plump body into the air.
Directly onto mine.
Mine.
My body.
Without any other option, I braced myself for her impact. Not that she could physically harm me, it was more of a mental brace of, oh shit the woman might be plump, but she moved with the speed of a torpedo.
I caught her in my arms.
The shaking stopped.
Her hands clung to the front of my shirt, her breathing was unsteady, her body sweaty, hot, and curvy.
I appreciated all types of beauty.
Even hers.
I would have preferred a small mate, one that I could terrify into submission — one I had no risk of falling in love with.
Because a siren in love — was a dangerous thing.
And a part of me wondered if that was what Cassius had planned all along. In order for me to be at my strongest, I needed to be in love.
Something I’d never experienced in all of my years of living, screwing, and toying with males and females alike.
“What.” I gave her a menacing glare. “The hell, do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m scared of earthquakes,” she whispered, licking her lips repeatedly until I thought I was going to go mad with the motion of her tongue sliding across the pink of her mouth. “Terrified, actually.”
“This is Seattle.” I was still holding her, for reasons beyond my realm of understanding.
“They say the next earthquake is going to be really big and half of downtown is going to slide into the Puget Sound, so excuse me for being scared!”
“And you live downtown?”
“Well… no.” Her brown eyes focused in on mine.
“Then you must visit there often?”
“No.”
I sighed impatiently. “So your fears are completely unfounded and illogical. Simply stop fearing it.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I tire of holding you, human.” The lie fell easy; in fact, I had forgotten I was holding her until she fidgeted in my arms like she was the offended party, when I was the one who had just been assaulted. “The only thing you need to fear is me.”
“Because you…” She sighed. “You’re going to sacrifice me?”
I tried to hold the laugh in.
But it was all too ridiculous.
“Yes.” I nodded seriously, my lips twitching with the urge to smile. “The process will be painless. I’ll tie your hands and feet to the bedposts — strip you naked, and then plunge an immortal sword into your heart. You’ll need to repeat the words ut animam meam and then once you drink my blood — if it accepts you, you will live.”
Her face paled as she struggled to get out of my arms.
And then I lost it, dropping her back to her feet, laughing so hard I felt my body shook with it.
“I don’t even remember the phrase!” Her wild eyes darted between me and the bed, clearly not catching on. Joke. It was a joke.
“Well,” I lifted a shoulder and shrugged. “Then I guess you die.”
“But—”
“Better do it quickly, less pain that way.”
“What about the plants?”
My smile froze. “Either you’re extremely simple minded or mentally ill. What the hell are you talking about?”
“The—” She tugged at her low ponytail. “The plants, you know, around the grounds. I take care of them and Cassius—” Her eyes lit up. “Cassius said I was getting a promotion, so sorry, but you can’t kill me.”
I grinned. “Okay.”
She frowned.
I was still confused how she was shielding herself from my essence, but already I was mentally drained from the energy it took to get her to worship me — instead I returned to my normal everyday state and held out my hand.
She stared at it.
“Take my hand.”
“No.” She swallowed. “I think I’ll just wait for Cassius.”
“He’s already mated.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not mating him.”
“No.” This, this was my favorite part, watching humans try to logically put together all of the pieces of the puzzle only to realize their brains were too small to comprehend the different parts they held, the angles, the colors, “You’re going to mate with me.”
I expected her to cry.
Maybe throw something.
Instead, she froze and then with a scream ran head first directly into my body sending me sailing backward against the marble floor.
I was caught unaware.
Meaning, I barely had time to stop myself before my head slammed back against the hard ground.
She tried to run toward the door.
“Cat and mouse.” I sighed from my position on the ground. “I always did like foreplay.”
She jerked against the doors with fervor, I’d give her that, but they wouldn’t budge.
Not until she was mine.
Not until the doors sensed my blood running through her veins.
“Why won’t it open?” Her voice was strangled as pieces of her hair fell out of its restraint and brushed against her shoulders. “You can’t keep me here forever.”
“I can.” I yawned. “I will.”


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Haven’t read this series yet?  

The Dark Ones (Book One)  FREE

Untouchable Darkness (Book Two) $1.99

About the Author:
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Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!



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