Posted in 4 paws, excerpt, Giveaway, romance on August 9, 2019

 

Synopsis

The timeless romance, soaring passion—and gorgeous men—of Scotland comes to modern-day America. And the rules of love will never be the same…

Isabel Buchanan is fiery, funny, and never at a loss for words. But she is struck speechless when her mother returns from a trip to Scotland with a six-foot-tall, very handsome souvenir. Izzy’s mother is so infatuated by the fellow that Izzy has to plan their annual Highland Games all by herself. Well, not completely by herself. The Highlander’s strapping young nephew has come looking for his uncle…

Alasdair Blackmoor has never seen a place as friendly as this small Georgia town—or a girl as brilliant and beguiling as Izzy. Instead of saving his uncle, who seems to be having a lovely time, Alasdair decides he’d rather help Izzy with the Highland Games. Show her how to dance like a Highlander. Drink like a Highlander. And maybe, just maybe, fall in love with a Highlander. But when the games are over, where do they go from here?

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Excerpt

Chapter One

“I brought home a surprise!” Rose Buchanan threw her arms out wide as if embracing the world. From the stories she told to the way she entered the room, Rose was exuberant and entertaining and enjoyed being the center of attention.

Isabel Buchanan, who was perfectly content on the fringes, pushed her wavy hair off her sticky forehead with hands that trembled from the nightmare drive through Atlanta to the airport to pick up her mom. Her mom’s trip to Scotland had doubled as both research and vacation. The jammed stop-and-go traffic had left Izzy flustered and already dreading their exit from the airport.

Rolling her stiff shoulders, Izzy stepped around the bumper of the car, popping the trunk open on the way. Her mom had a beautiful plaid scarf of greens and browns and blues tossed over her shoulder and what appeared to be new earrings. Either purchase might inspire her mother to gush, and she would expect reciprocal gushing from Izzy.

Making an educated guess, Izzy asked, “Are those earrings your surprise?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hauled one of her mom’s giant wheeled suitcases closer and prepared to heave it into the back. The sooner they got out of Atlanta, the sooner she could get back to work planning the High- land festival. Or she might pour an extra-large glass of wine and escape into a book. A guilty pleasure, consider- ing how much she still had to get in order in three scant weeks.

“Allow me, please.” A bearded man who had been rolling cases to the curb stepped forward with a grin and an accent Izzy couldn’t place.

She checked her pockets and winced. No cash to tip the man, and no hope her mom had thought of something so inconsequential.

“Do you like them? They’re hammered silver.” Her mom flipped her bobbed matching silver hair to the side and displayed one earring with her fingers. “And as a matter of fact, I did buy them from a lovely shop in Edin- burgh, but I brought something bigger home. Something more exciting.”

“Your scarf? It’s lovely.” Izzy gave her mom limited attention while she watched the man load suitcase after suitcase into her trunk, fitting them together like a puzzle. More luggage than her mom had left with. She waved to catch the man’s attention. “Hang on. That’s not all my mom’s stuff.”

For the first time, Izzy really looked at the man. He was close to her mom in age, and good-looking in a bear-like way with a gleaming white smile highlighted by a salt-and-pepper beard. His full head of hair was a shade darker, but graying heavily at the temples. The expression on the man’s face when he looked in her mom’s direction—a mix of adoration and amusement—cleared the fog of confusion.

Lord have mercy, her mother had brought back a six-foot, two-hundred-pound-plus souvenir from Scotland.

From: A Highlander Walks into a Bar. Copyright © 2019 by Laura Trentham and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

 

Review

I always enjoy this author’s books and this one takes us to Georgia where this little town is as if Scotland had a baby and it moved away and here it now resides!

Isobel (Izzy) and Alasdair is the couple that ends up together but not without a few interesting escapades and experiences.  Izzy is a woman of multiple talents and right now works a job that she doesn’t love and aspires to be an author.  Her problem is that she isn’t writing the right book for her talent.  Alasdair ventures to the US to make sure his Uncle Gareth isn’t being taken advantage of by a woman who happens to be Izzy’s mother.  I think Gareth has it more in hand than Alasdair.

The town is full of unique characters and shops which rounded out the main characters.  The town sounds like one I wouldn’t mind visiting or even living should I choose to get away from it all.

This story had quite a few spots that made me chuckle out loud and I found myself rooting for Izzy and Alasdair to realize what they have in each other and that life isn’t all about a job you don’t love.  There are some rough patches and distrust in the beginning, but the story moved along (somewhat slower than I would have anticipated at times) and I couldn’t wait to see how it ended.  I loved the epilogue especially and it sets us up for the second book in this series.

Some of my favorite lines:

“You might want to practice in the mirror before you unleash it on the tourists.”

“You’re wearing underwear.  I thought Scots went commando under their kilts.”

“No chastity belt. But I should warn you, it’s been so long I might have re-virginized.”

He unzipped her purse and pulled out one, but the rest followed like her purse was a condom clown car.

Overall we enjoyed this book and give it 4 paws up.

 

About the Author

LAURA TRENTHAM is an award-winning author of contemporary and historical romance. She is a member of RWA, and has been a finalist multiple times in the Golden Heart competition. A chemical engineer by training and a lover of books by nature, she lives in South Carolina.

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Posted in excerpt, fiction, Military on August 8, 2019

 

Synopsis

A Top Gun for the new millennium, Lions of the Sky propels the reader into a realm in which friendship, loyalty, and skill are tested, battles won and lost in an instant, and lives irrevocably changed in the time it takes to plug in your afterburners.

Sam Richardson is a fighter pilot’s pilot, a reluctant legend with a gut-eating secret. He is in the last span of his tour as an instructor, yearning to get back to the real action of the Fleet, when he is ordered to take on one last class—a class that will force him to confront his carefully quarantined demons.

Brash, carefree, and naturally gifted, Keely Silvers is the embodiment of all that grates on him. After years of single-minded dedication, she and her classmates can see the finish line. They are months away from achieving their life-long dream, flying Navy F/A-18 fighters. They are smart and hard-working, but they’re just kids with expensive new toys. They’re eager to rush through training and escape to the freedom of the world beyond, a world they view as a playground full of fast jets and exotic locales.

But Sam knows there is a darker side to the profession he loves. There is trouble brewing in the East with global implications. If they make it past him they will be cast into a dangerous world where enemy planes cruise the skies over the South China Sea like sharks, loaded with real weapons and hidden intentions.

With fans already excited for the new film Top Gun: Maverick (releasing June 2020), Lions of the Sky gives readers an inside look at the world of the fighter pilot, from someone who’s been there.

 

Excerpt

Virginia Beach, Virginia

Slammer sliced through the crisp early morning air in a jet with his name stenciled on the side: LT Sam “Slammer” Richardson. For his last flight as a Navy fighter pilot instructor he’d finagled a spot on a dawn flight for his favorite dogfight hop, a 2 versus 1, where he was the lone bad guy. Now he was heading back for administrative chores on Earth. He felt his heartbeat slowing to normal as he peered from the cockpit at the Atlantic, watching as the color of the sea gradually melted from a deep turquoise blue a hundred miles off the coast of Virginia to a slate gray as he cruised closer to shore. The surface of the ocean was still and heavy, like slowly undulating molten lead. He had a little gas to play with so he gently tilted the stick on the F/A-18E Super Hornet—the Rhino, as the aircrew called it.

Some Rhinos had two seats but this variant had only one, and for once he was glad to be in the cockpit alone with his thoughts. He was going to miss his buddies. They had worked together for the past couple years as instructors at the Naval Air Station Oceana, and prior to that in their previous Fleet squadron for an action-packed three years. He felt a twinge of regret leaving them behind but he could feel the undeniable thirst building for the action of the Fleet. It was definitely time to rotate back into life at sea. To flying real missions, not training ones.

The plane banked responsively, turning toward the northern corner of the Carolinas, Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hill. As the pale strip of sandy shoreline marched closer, a line of snowy white puffies dotted the horizon looking like a hanging playground of cotton candy suspended a couple of thousand feet above the sailboats and rolling waves. Almost of its own volition, the Rhino climbed and banked, surfing the cloud tops, gently tearing off a piece of fluff with a wingtip as it rolled inverted, descending a few hundred feet in the blink of an eye, and rolled upright again. At times like these, when his hands transmitted his thoughts directly to the control surfaces without effort, Slammer felt like he was just along for the ride. The plane was an extension of his body; no conscious input was needed to roll inverted once more and fall, fall weightlessly until he recovered just above the waves. 100 feet above the water, 450 knots, there was no stress. No sweat beading on his brow, no abnormally high pulse, just a wide smile hidden behind his oxygen mask. While the world raced by just below, miles clicking away at an absurd pace, propelled by the explosive violence of combustion, he was at peace at the tip of the spear.

As the Rhino approached the shore and the confines of the Air Traffic Control system, the spell was broken and, like a horse headed for the barn, the Rhino climbed and pointed north over the Albermarle Sound toward the Naval Air Station Oceana. He approached the airfield, contacted the tower, and was cleared for the overhead pattern; no other traffic in the area. This was the perfect way to end his tenure with the training squadron, he thought, grinning. He maneuvered toward the runway at fifteen hundred feet, watching through the Virginia Pines the jam of cars carrying morning commuters, wondering if they were watching him. When he was three miles from the runway’s end he nudged the nose over slightly and cracked the afterburners, just a bit, igniting twin plumes of focused flame. The Rhino surged forward like a rocket, accelerating to 600 knots in a few beats of the heart as he leveled off just above the green blur of tree tops.

In a flash he was over the runway. “Roman Two-One, numbers,” he informed the tower.

“The pattern is yours, Roman.”

As the near end of the runway disappeared below the pointy nose of his jet, he snapped to the left, one wing pointed straight at the earth, the other up to the heavens. Then he pulled back on the stick, quick yet smooth, grunting as speed and back-stick squatted the jet into a tight, seven-and-a-half G arc. A moment later, the aerial u-turn complete, he rolled level racing at 300 knots in the opposite direction. He was a mile abeam the runway, smokin’ fast 800 feet above the grass. Just where he wanted to be. Now his pulse was up. He was alert, working hard but still having fun. At the moment the end of the runway flashed below his wing, he turned left again, pulling hard on the stick. As the speed dropped quickly he threw down the landing gear and moved the flap switch to FULL. With 90 degrees to go to line up with the runway, he was all set—decelerating nicely, gear down, flaps down.

“Roman Two-One, three down and locked,” he transmitted.

“Cleared to land.”

Rolling into the groove, two hundred feet off the ground on runway centerline, he scanned with a practiced eye and picked up the ball—the meatball—centered between the two rows of green reference lights, just where it should be. The meatball was the device adjacent the runway that beamed glide-slope information into the sky so the pilots could land precisely. Keeping the ball centered as the plane slowed to approach speed, he worked the throttles like a concert violinist, gently adding and withdrawing diesel to the turbines, feeling the plane as it slowed slightly or rose on a summer thermal, fighting the forces of entropy conspiring to push the ball from the middle where it was aligned with the green lights.

From the ground, if one stood just next to the meatball lens as it projected its glide-slope of orange light into the air, the Rhino would appear steady as a rock, locked in the same piece of sky and magically enlarging as it got closer. In the cockpit, the pilot would be working hard, hands and feet making hundreds of minute corrections, eyes scanning nonstop.

The groove lasts but fifteen to eighteen ticks of a clock’s second hand, about the time it takes to tie a shoe, but careers are made and lives are changed in that span. A few heartbeats later the wheels smashed onto the runway as Slammer and the Rhino left their natural environment. While the plane slowed, the computer-enhanced control surfaces twitched back and forth, like the wings of a primordial creature reluctantly realizing it was now firmly on the ground.

“Nice break,” came from the tower, and Slammer’s grin widened as he taxied off the runway, popping one of the fittings holding his oxygen mask so it now dangled jauntily from one side.

Reprinted from Lions of the Sky. Copyright © 2018 by Paco Chierici

Praise for Lions of the Sky

“A humdinger of a book…Through vividly drawn characters, Paco takes us inside a Navy fighter squadron showing their incredibly difficult day to day lives, including the obstacles women still face in this tight knit community. This is a terrific window into a world very few people see.”—The Honorable Ray Mabus, 75th United States Secretary of the Navy

“Paco is one of the best pilots I know. Lions of the Sky is gripping, fast paced, and authentic. If you want a real, edge of the envelope thriller, look no further!”—Brandon Webb, former Navy Seal, Pilot and New York Times bestselling author

“I was absolutely catapulted into the action! Paco put me right back in the cockpit and the Ready Room. Lions of the Sky is intense, and personal, and thrilling. A must read!”—Lea Gabrielle, Journalist and F/A-18 Naval Aviator

“Paco Chierici’s debut novel is an unforgettable story of pride, lust, loss, betrayal and redemption…set today in a carrier-based fighter squadron in combat. Timely and gripping, Lions of the Sky is an exciting supersonic techno-thriller with well-written g-spikes of human drama that kept me turning the pages. Strap in and arm your seat!”—Kevin Miller, bestselling author of the Raven One trilogy

“If you wanted to be a fighter pilot but couldnʼt, for whatever reason, this book provides an incredible description. Read it. Then youʼll want to read it again. Itʼs that good.”—Jay Consalvi, Fighter pilot featured in Speed and Angels, winner of Reno Air Races Unlimited Gold 2017

About the Author

Francesco “Paco” Chierici is the author of Lions of the Sky. During his active duty career in the US Navy, Chierici flew A-6E Intruders and F-14A Tomcats, deployed to conflict zones from Somalia to Iraq and was stationed aboard carriers including the USS Ranger, Nimitz and Kitty Hawk. Unable to give up dogfighting, he flew the F-5 Tiger II for a further ten years as a Bandit concurrent with his employment as a commercial pilot. Throughout his military career, Paco accumulated nearly 3,000 tactical hours, 400 carrier landings, a Southwest Asia Service Medal with Bronze Star, and three Strike/Flight Air Medals. Chierici’s writing has appeared in Aviation Classics magazine, AOPA magazine, and Fighter Sweep. He also created and produced the award-winning naval aviation documentary, Speed and Angels. Currently a 737 captain, Chierici can often be found in the skies above California flying a Yak-50 with a group of likeminded G-hounds to get his dogfighting fix. He lives in Northern California with his wife Hillary, and two children.

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Giveaway, Guest Post, romance on August 7, 2019

 

Title: Discretion
Author: Karina Halle
Release Date: August 6, 2019
Publisher: Montlake Romance

 

Synopsis

The Riviera means indulgence—if you’ve got money. For Sadie Reynolds, a down-on-her-luck student, the Riviera means dingy hostels and back streets. When a wrong turn puts her in jeopardy, the last thing she expects is to be saved by the most handsome stranger she’s ever locked eyes with. When she later wakes up in a luxury suite with a Mediterranean view, she’s in the tender care of her rescuer: Olivier Dumont, France’s most eligible bachelor, billionaire hotelier, and heir to the Dumont fashion fortune.

Olivier also owns his reputation for scandal. But Sadie is unlike any woman he’s ever met. Her humble persona and wild innocence promise real passion. He’s promising Sadie something too: anything she wants. From Bordeaux to Cannes to Paris, Sadie’s past in America is swept away and replaced with a fantasy too good to be true.

Pulled into Olivier’s orbit of wealth, glamour, and excess, Sadie discovers that the Dumont dynasty comes with a legacy of wicked secrets. And Olivier’s secrets may be the most damning of all…

Guest Post: Author Karina Halle Shows Some Discretion

For as long as I can remember, escapism has been a big part of my life. Whether it was getting lost in my favorite films and TV shows or discovering new places and cultures as I traveled around the world, I’ve always had the itch to lead other lives than my own. One of the best and easiest ways to do this of course was through reading, and later, writing. It shouldn’t be a surprise then to know how much I love creating the perfect escape in my novels, ones that whisk readers (and myself) off to exotic destinations, falling for deliciously sexy men, all without leaving the comfort of your home. After all, even when I was young and single and traveling all over, I dreamed about meeting the perfect guy around every corner and the whirlwind romance that would follow. I remember one time I was supposed to meet a guy on a blind-date in Paris but he stood me up. Guess I’ve been trying to rectify that situation through my stories ever since!

When I write, I try to capture that same hopeful feeling that I had back in the day. I tend to write very real, flawed and relatable heroines because I personally believe that connection is one of the best ways to get lost in a book. If you don’t feel a connection or you can’t understand where a character is coming from, then it gets hard to really put yourself in the story. The stakes don’t feel as high because you don’t feel there’s anything to lose. But when a character is the “every girl,” someone that you get and can relate to, then it’s easier to put yourself in their shoes. What they feel, you feel, and there you are, living another life.

My novel Discretion is a good example of that. We have our every girl, Sadie, who is an American student trying to figure out what she wants out of life during a summer trip to Europe. She’s not sure if she’s taken the right path in school and is uncertain about her future, she’s broke, she has a complicated relationship with her mother because of her mother’s mental illness, and to make matters worse her long-term boyfriend dumps her while abroad. To me, Sadie represents so many young women right now who are looking for answers about life while trying to discover who they really are and dealing with all the bullshit in between.

Enter the insanely sexy French billionaire Olivier Dumont. The heir to the Dumont fashion dynasty (think Chanel), Olivier meets Sadie under dramatic circumstances – he saves her from a mugger. At first Sadie doesn’t know who Olivier really is and is distrustful of him (you can’t blame her, she’s literally having the worst trip ever and her opinion of men is at an all-time low). But over time she becomes drawn to Olivier, seeing a part of him that he doesn’t show many people. It helps that he’s handsome as sin and devilishly charming. It also helps that he’s extremely rich. In fact as Sadie gets to know him, she does so in a famous luxury hotel on the French Riviera, a hotel that Olivier happens to own. Talk about your wildest fantasy!

Here we have escapism at it’s most decadent. You have the relatable average girl getting swept off her feet by sexy, rich French man in a gorgeous and exotic setting. Yet despite the novel’s soap opera tendencies (because, believe me, the Dumont family is a family of suspenseful secrets and sin), there’s something realistic about the whole relationship. Sadie and Olivier may seem very different on the surface but underneath they’re two lost souls recognizing something in each other. Even Olivier, for all his wealth and privilege, feels conflicted with what he wants out of life, discovering that happiness isn’t found in money and fame but something else. Or someone else. It turns for both of them that what they’re looking for may just be in each other.

But taking a chance on love always brings a lot of risk and when it comes to Sadie and Olivier, the risks may end up being more than they bargained for.

Are you ready to find out more and escape with Discretion?

***

Discretion Excerpt

Pain invades my dreams.

Then light behind my lids.

In the moments before I open my eyes, I try to figure out where I am. There’s a bit of a delay to my thoughts, and for that I’m grateful. I know normally I would be panicking because—

Wait.

Wait.

I should be panicking.

Flashes of last night come back like a hailstorm.

Walking to the train station.

The man following.

The wild look in his eyes as he attacked me.

The pain from my ankle, my shoulder striking the ground.

Then . . .

Olivier.

Swooping in to beat the man.

Did that really happen?

Did he really . . . save me?

Who is Olivier, really?

Where am I?

I open my eyes and blink hard at the light streaming in through gauzy curtains. The light is soft, and there’s a breeze coming through the French doors. It smells mineral-fresh. The sea.

I slowly lift my head and see the Mediterranean glinting blue in the distance, the surface shimmering like diamonds. But closer still is a large terrace with lounge chairs and a giant, round hot tub built right into the teak floor. It almost looks like I’m on a ship.

I gingerly turn my head and look around the room, which is about three times the size of the last dorm room I stayed in that housed six bunk beds.

I let out a whistle under my breath as I take it all in. From the four-poster king bed to the embroidered chairs and the chandeliers, it looks like I’ve been holing up in some luxurious seaside chateau.

Jeez Louise.

For a split second, it feels like getting attacked was the best thing that could have happened to me—until the slightest movement brings shooting pain back to my ankle.

Ow, ow, ow.

I roll up my pant leg and stare at the bandages. I don’t remember what the doctor said about them. Do I change them? Tighten them? How long do I stay off my foot? I don’t even remember using crutches. And yet there they are, looking woefully out of place, resting against an antique white wardrobe across from the bed.

A knock at the door.

My heart leaps.

“Hello?” I cry out, trying to figure out how to hobble to the door to open it. I move to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, but it’s already so painful I have to stop.

“Sadie?” Olivier’s voice comes through the door. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah,” I say, and before I can force myself to get up and limp over, the door starts to unlock.

What? How does he have a key?

The door swings open, and his head pops around the corner, brows raised in concern. “S’il vous plaît, don’t get up!”

Then the door opens wider, and suddenly what looks to be a butler is pushing in a cart topped with metal-domed plates.

“Merci, Marcel,” Olivier says quietly to the butler, who exits as quickly as he came in. The door closes behind him, and I’m left in the room with Olivier, my eyes jumping from Olivier to the cart and then back to Olivier.

Of course, there’s no secret why my gaze keeps going back to him because, Christ on a cracker, now that it’s the light of day and I’m out of danger and the pain is only somewhat excruciating, I’m really seeing him for the first time.

The man is gorgeous.

I mean, like the kind of guy you see on an ad for Hugo Boss or something. The kind of guy God definitely didn’t make enough of. The kind of guy you can probably only find in the South of France.

And he’s here. In my hotel room.

Or maybe this is his hotel room?

“How did you get in here?” I ask after I find my voice.

He holds up a room key. “La clé.”

“I assume that means key? Why do you have a key?”

He tilts his head as a small amused smile teases his lips. “Why wouldn’t I? This is my room.”

“Your room?” I exclaim, looking around. My God, did he sleep here with me? Holy hell, the mere thought of that shouldn’t be turning me on.

“No,” he says matter-of-factly. “I slept in the villa. I would have put you in there, but it’s a bit out of the way. Usually occupied by royal families or celebrities on getaways, but it was free last night.”

I stare at him. “I don’t understand.”

He gestures to the cart. “This is your breakfast. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered pretty much everything on the menu.”

I shake my head, scoffing. “No. This can’t be real. You are not real.”

“I’m very real.”

“I’m dreaming then.”

“I can pinch you if you want,” he says, his silken voice dropping a register, a devious glint in his eyes. I’m in trouble. He should know how dangerous those looks are when they’re coming from him. Or maybe he does know.

I take him in again, the V-neck white T-shirt that looks especially soft, showing off his olive skin, darkened from the summer sun. He’s taller than I remember, at least six foot, which makes him a giant compared to my five-foot-two frame, and he’s all muscle. Not the big and bulky kind that one would get from hours in the gym, the kind that seems to come naturally—strong forearms, wide, firm chest, broad shoulders, slim hips.

Okay, I need to stop staring.

I sit up straighter, trying to make sense of everything and knock some reality into myself. On top of everything he’s already done for me, I’ve taken his hotel room, which probably costs a small fortune, and he’s brought me room service.

Everything on the menu.

“What’s your endgame in all of this?” I can’t help but ask. I know I should just be grateful, but still, this is so much to do for a stranger.

“Endgame?” he repeats, folding his arms, his watch gleaming.

Wow. Wow, yeah, I’m a sucker for those forearms.

“Uh-huh,” I say slowly. “Are you trying to, I don’t know, seduce me?”

I regret it the moment I say it.

He breaks into a devastating grin, the kind that could steal my breath away and never give it back. “Do you want me to seduce you?” he asks, running his long fingers down the length of his jaw, like he’s now considering it.

“No,” I say quickly.

I’m pretty sure I’m lying.

“Good,” he says, still smiling. I see a hint of pink tongue as he bites his lip. “Because, believe me, lapin, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

 

About the Author

Karina Halle, a former travel writer and music journalist, is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of The Pact, A Nordic King, and Sins & Needles, as well as fifty other wild and romantic reads. She, her husband, and their adopted pit bull live in a rain forest on an island off British Columbia, where they operate a B&B that’s perfect for writers’ retreats. In the winter, you can often find them in California or on their beloved island of Kauai, soaking up as much sun (and getting as much inspiration) as possible.

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Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance, Texas on August 4, 2019

 

Cowboy Charming

By Dylann Crush

Publication Date 7/30/2019

 

Synopsis

They call him Casanova. But can this charming devil of a cowboy teach a good girl how to change her ways?

Small-town preacher’s daughter Dixie King is used to having a lot on her plate. Keep tabs on her flighty grandmother? No problem. Handle the honky-tonk’s first ever Chili Cook-Off? In the bag. Vamp it up to charm a would-be developer into leaving Holiday, Texas for good?

…now there she might need a helping hand.

Enter Presley Walker: Holiday’s own Cowboy Casanova and the perfect tutor for a good girl looking to go bad. He’s got charm in spades, and he’s always seemed like a terrible idea waiting to happen. But as Presley and Dixie work together to save their beloved hometown, these polar opposites might finally see the good in each other…if they can only learn to trust their hearts enough to fall.

AmazonB&N * Apple

IndieBound * BAM

 

Holiday, Texas Series

All-American Cowboy (Book 1)

Cowboy Christmas Jubilee (Book 2)

Cowboy Charming (Book 3)

 

What Readers Are Saying About Dylann Crush

“Get a crush on Crush! Full of clever humor, heart and heat.” —New York Times bestselling author Lori Wilde

“Fun, fresh and fantastic… A must read.”—Christie Craig, New York Times bestselling author, for All-American Cowboy

“Charm, humor, a vast array of quirky Texas characters… Another fun, flirty title.”—Kirkus Reviews for Cowboy Christmas Jubilee

“Strong chemistry and fun banter.”—Booklist for Cowboy Christmas Jubilee

“This romance is perfect for Christmas but it will warm your heart no matter what the season.”—Night Owl Reviews for Cowboy Christmas Jubilee

 

Excerpt

Dixie King hoisted the tray of longnecks onto her shoulder and sashayed through a busier-than-usual Thursday-night crowd. Spring finals week must be coming to a close for the frat boys and pseudo-cowgirls who considered the Rambling Rose their personal stomping ground. Sidestepping a clean-shaven guy in a polo shirt with grabby hands, she delivered the bottles one by one to the impatient patrons.

That right there was why her daddy never wanted her to take this job. As the resident preacher in the tiny town of Holiday, Texas, he feared for her moral safety. Funny thing was, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. Beyond the occasional ass-grabber or drunken proposition, Dixie hadn’t been involved with a man in years.

She made her way back to the bar to snag another load. As she transferred the bottles and mugs onto the tray, a body slid onto the stool at the end of the bar.

Presley Walker.

She’d have known it was him by the hint of intoxicating cologne that drifted off the man in a hormone-inducing wave. If her daddy wanted to pray for someone, Presley should be at the top of the list. Although it may be too late for him. Dixie figured he might not have any morals still intact.

“Hey, Red.” He took one of the bottles off the tray and tilted it in her direction before giving her a wink and lifting it to his lips. Even though something as simple as a smile from Presley Walker could make her thighs quiver for days, she ignored the urge to slip onto a barstool and make believe it was her mouth receiving the attention of his lips and not a mere bottle of beer. Fantasies involving Presley were just that—fantasies. She couldn’t afford to get caught up in wishing anything more would ever happen between them. She’d play off his attention like she always did—with a mixture of disdain and sass. The combination had proven effective over the years at deterring any potential advances from Holiday’s resident Romeo. Not that he’d follow through anyway. The way her daddy had treated her first long-term boyfriend had pretty much guaranteed no other eligible man in Holiday would be willing to subject himself to Pastor King’s scrutiny.

“Red? Gosh, Presley, what wit. I haven’t heard that one before.” She rolled her eyes then grabbed the extra beer the bartender handed her. Her red hair came from her mother’s side of the family, specifically her grandmother. Too bad she hadn’t also inherited the free-spirited, devil-may-care attitude her grandma Eugenia was known for.

“Hell, Dixie, I’m just warmin’ up.” Presley’s gaze drifted over her. The man could summon heat from an ice cube. Her skin burned under his attention. She felt like she was standing in the middle of the crowded honky-tonk in nothing but her birthday suit.

She groaned and whirled around, ready to run the gauntlet through the handsy crowd again. She’d rather face down a room full of cocky frat boys than get stuck face-to-face with Presley Walker. Her reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with the way his blue eyes sparkled or how his mouth tipped up in a crooked grin, making heat pool in places she didn’t want to acknowledge. And everything to do with the string of X-rated dreams she’d been having over the past several months—starring who else but Holiday, Texas’s most notorious bachelor.

Maybe she should do what her daddy had been encouraging her to do ever since she took this job—quit. But the tips were good, and working the late afternoon and evening shifts meant she could help out more at home. Besides, she needed the money if she wanted a place of her own someday. She had her heart set on opening a little artist studio where she could make and sell the handcrafted jewelry she’d been working on for the past few years. There were several other local artists in the area she’d love to feature as well. Another year or two and she’d be able to turn her dream into a reality.

Too bad that meant having regular run-ins with the blue-eyed demon. She shook her mass of red curls, trying to dislodge the memories of last night’s dream from her head. It wasn’t like Presley would stop coming around. Not only was he the local sales rep for the liquor supplier, but his sister, Charlie, and brother-in-law, Beck, owned the Rambling Rose.

Which meant she needed to keep him out of her head…and definitely out of her dreams.

***

Excerpted from Cowboy Charming by Dylann Crush. © 2019 by Dylann Crush. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

 

About the Author

Dylann Crush writes contemporary romance with sizzle and sass. A romantic at heart, she loves her heroines spunky and her heroes super sexy. When she’s not dreaming up steamy storylines, she can be found sipping a margarita and searching for the best Tex-Mex food in Minnesota. Although she grew up in Texas, she currently lives in a suburb of Minneapolis/St. Paul with her unflappable husband, three energetic kids, a clumsy Great Dane, a rescue mutt and a very chill cat. She loves to connect with readers, other authors and fans of tequila.

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Posted in excerpt, fiction, Historical, New York on August 3, 2019

 

Synopsis

Like Swans of Fifth Avenue and Truman Capote’s Answered Prayers, Richard Kirshenbaum’s Rouge gives readers a rare front row seat into the world of high society and business through the rivalry of two beauty industry icons, by the master marketer and chronicler of the over-moneyed.

Rouge is a sexy, glamorous journey into the rivalry of the pioneers of powder, mascara, and rouge.

This fast-paced novel examines the lives, loves, and sacrifices of the visionaries who invented the modern cosmetics industry: Josiah Herzenstein, born in a Polish Jewish Shtlel, the entrepreneur who transforms herself into a global style icon and the richest woman in the world, Josephine Herz; Constance Gardiner, her rival, the ultimate society woman who invents the door-to-door business and its female workforce but whose deepest secret threatens everything; CeeCee Lopez, the bi-racial beauty and founder of the first African American woman’s hair relaxer business, who overcomes prejudice and heartbreak to become her community’s first female millionaire. The cast of characters is rounded out by Mickey Heron, a dashing, sexy ladies’ man whose cosmetics business is founded in a Hollywood brothel. All are bound in a struggle to be number one, doing anything to get there…including murder.

 

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

HOLLYWOOD DREAMS

New York City, 1933

 

A Technicolor sky hung over the city even though it was only early May. At times, even New York City seemed to have caught the bug. The pear trees that bloomed like white fireworks every April may as well have sprouted palm trees. Everyone, it seemed, had just stepped out of a Garbo movie, and Josephine Herz (née Josiah Herzenstein) would be damned if she would not capitalize on this craze.

A young, well-kept woman was the first to grace her newly opened, eponymous salon on Fifth Avenue. With bleached-blond “marcelled” hair, a substantial bust, and a mouth that looked as though it had been carved from a pound of chopped meat, her new client had all the ammunition to entrap any man in the city, to keep him on the dole, and her cosmetic hygienist, in this case Herz Beauty, on the payroll. She lowered herself onto the padded leather salon chair like a descending butterfly and batted her eyes as though they too might flutter from her face.

“I want thickah,” she whined. She said this in a Brooklyn accent that would have killed her chances had she been an actress transitioning from silent to talkies.

Josephine nodded and reached into her arsenal, procuring the favored Herz moisturizer for a dewy complexion. She removed and unscrewed the glass jar, leaned over her client, and began to apply it to her cheekbones in soft, round swirls.

“No!” The client swatted her hand away as though to scold and dispose of a landed bug. “Not my skin,” she said. “My lashes.”

“Oh.” Josephine withdrew her hand and held it, poised high above her client’s face, as though hovering a spoon over a boiling pot.

“I want thicker lashes,” said the blonde. “Like Gloria.”

“Gloria?” Josephine was perplexed.

“Swanson!” the client said, shaking her head, miffed that she was not understood.

“I see.” Josephine replaced the glass jar in her holster bag and procured a separate, zippered case. “For the thick-eyelash look, you have two options: tinting or application.” She removed both a small black cake and a moistened brush to apply the pigment and a plastic box of spidery lashes and displayed them as though they were a cache of jewels. The tube of adhesive gum came next.

The blonde’s eyes widened. She shook her head and sat bolt upright on her chair. A convalescent, revived from the dead. “Ya don’t mean you want to glue them on?”

Josephine took a long, deep breath. “How else do you think women get them?” she said. “If there were a drink ve could drink to grow them, I assure you I’d let you know,” she said in her Polish-tinged English.

“I just assumed…,” said the blonde. Miffed, she reached into her pocketbook and produced a magazine clipping from a crumpled stash. She unfurled a luminous, if wrinkled, image of Gloria Swanson, the Hollywood glamour girl, from the latest issue of Motion Picture. All lips, pouting like a put-out princess. She had the brow of an Egyptian goddess, the same distinctive beauty mark, and the eyelashes of a jungle cat. “Like that,” she said, pointing at her eyes. “I want to look like that for a party tonight.”

Josephine’s perfectly lacquered blood-red nails grazed the wrinkled page. She studied Gloria’s fabulous face, the brow, the lash, the pout.

“Application,” Josephine said, returning the image.

“Geez,” said the client. “You’d think by now you people would come up with something better than that.”

It was her duty, Josephine had come to feel, to tolerate stings and slights like this. But a new thought occurred to her as she prepped the lashes for application, as she meticulously heated and applied the adhesive gum. Her client was right. She often worked the floor to do just that: to listen to her patrons, her clients. And now that she was in New York, she knew enough never to be too far away from what real American women wanted. And so she took in the woman’s request with deep reverence, as she knew nothing was more important to her future sales than her clients’ needs. Blanche or Betty—or whatever the tacky blonde’s name was—was right. It was high time someone came up with something better. Josephine was certainly up to this task. The only problem was that across town, a woman named Constance Gardiner was doing the very same thing.

* * *

Josephine Herz was not, of course, the first to invent mascara. But she would be the first to invent one devoid of mess and fuss and to make it available to the masses. As early as ancient Egypt, women found their facial fix. Considered to be a necessary accouterment in every woman’s and man’s daily regime, kohl, a combination of galena, lead sulfide, or copper and wax, was applied to the eyes, the eyebrows and lashes, to ward off evil spirits and to protect from sun damage. Most any image of Egyptian gods or goddesses will reveal hieroglyphs, not only on pyramid walls but on the Egyptians’ faces. The bold, black lines on the female face lost fashion over the centuries, especially in more recent times when Victorian ladies eschewed color of all kind on the face. But it was not long before women craved—and chemists created—a new brand of adornment for the eye. Coal, honey, beeswax—all the traditional ingredients had to be tested and tried. Josephine could smell a market maker from a mile away, and in this, she sensed a new moment for the eye. From Los Angeles to Larchmont, women were craving new ways to look like the stars of the silver screen, new ways to dress, look, and behave in a modern woman’s ever-changing role. These women needed a product that would make them look and feel like Garbo or Swanson, something simpler, cleaner, and quicker than the application of false eyelashes every six to eight weeks. These women needed a product that was cheap, fuss-free, and less mess than the old option made from charcoal, which, in the very worst cases, caused blindness.

Copyright © 2019 by Richard Kirshenbaum

From Rouge: A Novel of Beauty and Rivalry. Copyright © 2019  by Richard Kirshenbaum and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Press.

 

About the Author

RICHARD KIRSHENBAUM is the author of Rouge: A Novel of Beauty and Rivalry. He is CEO of NSG/SWAT, a high-profile boutique branding agency. He has lectured at Harvard Business School, appeared on 20/20, was named to Crain’s New York Business’s “40 under 40” list, and has been inducted into the Advertising Hall of Fame. He is the author of Under the Radar, Closing the Deal, Madboy, and Isn’t That Rich? and the New York Observer’s “Isn’t That Rich?” column. He lives in New York City with his wife and three children.

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Posted in 4 paws, excerpt, Giveaway, Review, romance on August 1, 2019

 

Love at First Bark

By Debbie Burns

Publication Date 7/30/2019

Synopsis

Animal portrait painter Mia Chambers and architect Ben Thomas have volunteered at the High Grove Animal Shelter for years, and they share a complicated history. Ben has secretly loved Mia all this time, but she was married to his best friend. Now she’s newly widowed, with a young son, and Ben doesn’t know how to tell her what’s in his heart. All he can do is stay close, help her as much as she’ll let him, and watch for the right moment to bare his soul.

When a dozen adorable border collies get dumped in St. Louis’ biggest park, everyone at the shelter mobilizes for a large-scale rescue. Rushing to the park to round up the frisky collies, Ben and Mia unexpectedly plunge into a new phase of their entangled lives. Who knew that opening their hearts and homes—to animals in need and to each other—would lead to so many upheavals…and new beginnings…?

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Rescue Me Series

A New Leash on Love (Book 1)

Sit, Stay, Love (Book 2)

My Forever Home (Book 3)

Love at First Bark (Book 4)

 

Praise

“[A] warm, wonderful story.”—Romance Junkies for A New Leash on Love

“A tender love story…will win the hearts of animal fanciers.”—Publishers Weekly for My Forever Home

“It captured my whole heart.”—Urban Book Reviews for Sit, Stay, Love

“Sexy and fun.”—RT Book Reviews, 4.5 stars, TOP PICK for A New Leash on Love

“This heartstring-tugger is certain to win fans.” —Publishers Weekly STARRED Review for A New Leash on Love

 

Excerpt

Mia stepped out from Ollie’s room to find the main cabin empty. A single lamp was on, and the dwindling fire still glowed in the fireplace. Neither Ben nor Turbo around, and Mia wondered if Ben was done for the night too. A rush of disappointment swept over her at the thought of not getting to say good night to him.

Swallowing it down, she headed to the door with the dogs. The snow boots were all lined up beside the door on two long, thick rugs that were wet from the clumps of ice and snow that had been clinging to the boots when they’d come inside. The cold, wet patches stung Mia’s bare feet as she slipped into hers. She grabbed her coat from the closet and snaked it up one arm, transferred the puppy, then snaked it up the other.

When Mia moved to open the door and realized it was unlocked, she looked closer at the row of boots. Ben’s were missing. Her heart skittered in her chest. She opened the door with bated breath, but he was nowhere in sight.

Feeling the rush of cold air, Sam gave a determined shake of his head. His muscles tensed against her as if he was getting ready to leap. Sadie trotted backward several feet from the door as if to say “No thanks.”

Holding it open wider, Mia encouraged her. “Come on, girl. It’ll be a quick one, promise.”

Sadie whined but reluctantly followed Mia outside to the porch. Blue-white moonlight poured over the yard, bright enough to create shadows from the trees on the snow, and thousands of stars dotted the sky. The puppy squirmed in her arms as she stepped out deeper into the yard, crunching snow under her boots, until she set him down and zipped her coat.

Ben and Turbo were nowhere to be seen. She headed out into the yard, unable to entice Sadie off the snow-cleared porch. Sam trotted along, creating his own path, diving underneath windswept mounds, burying himself completely, then popping up and shaking himself off.

Mia was laughing at his antics when Sadie tore off the porch at something she’d spotted, barking and racing away into the darkness at the side of the cabin. Mia tensed, waiting, squinting to make out something in the darkness while trying to will Sadie back. “Ben?”

“Thank God,” she said when he called out into the night that it was him. She felt a rush of hesitation as he neared. “I thought the dogs might need to get outside another time before I put them in their crates.”

“Ollie’s asleep already?”

“As soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“Fresh air will do that to you.” Ben fell into step beside her as they headed toward the house.

Mia’s throat grew tight, and there was no denying why. They needed to talk. For hours into the night. There was so much to discuss. The only problem was Mia didn’t want to waste another minute of it not kissing him.

She swallowed hard. “Thanks for everything. For coming and all. For being so good to him.”

“I love him.”

She did her best to snip through the strings of connection drawing her to him. She was at a loss for words again, and Ben wasn’t helping them come any easier. She sat a squirmy and excited Sam back onto the ground. They were both quiet as they watched Sam leap and jump in a patch of untampered snow.

“Are you ready to go in? It’s freezing.”

“Mia, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby.”

They’d each spoken at exactly the same time. Mia bit her lip. “I can see why you didn’t, I guess. Would you have? Eventually.”

“Yeah, definitely. I was trying to find the right time.”

She nodded, conscious of her beating heart and the deep breaths she was taking. “I forgive you. Today’s a day for forgiveness, it seems.”

He shifted Turbo’s leash from one hand to the other. “About the other night…do you remember what you meant by ‘Et tu, Brute’? You texted that.”

Sam trotted off from them and up to the porch, snuggling against his mom, ready to go inside and get warm. Turbo looked off into the woods, not seeming to notice the cold.

Somehow, Mia knew if she told the truth, nothing was going to be the same. A tiny, nearly incoherent fear-filled voice inside her was screaming that she needed to stop this. But even if she couldn’t put it into words, she knew what she was doing. Suddenly her throat loosened, and the words spilled out. “The night Ollie was born, after the accident, you were there. You held my hand because Brad couldn’t. And not just that night. So many other times too. Sometimes I swear you’re the only person in the world who really sees me. When I figured out it was you Stacey was talking about in the letter, it wasn’t just that you knew and didn’t tell me, learning that made me doubt… I don’t know…everything.”

She could see the pain her words caused, and that more than anything was why she let herself step in and press her lips against his. He was four or five inches taller, but on the tips of her toes, she could just reach his lips. And just like before, she liked it. She liked everything about it.

She closed her bare, cold hands over the sides of his face and opened her mouth fully to his. He had strong lips, and she could feel the stubble from one day’s growth of beard against her skin.

He smelled like the Minnesota woods, cedar and pine, and he tasted like the s’mores they’d had in front of the fire. She could taste the sugar and chocolate on his lips and tongue. Her head began to swim, and she wondered if it was a flashback to drunkenly kissing him, or if she wasn’t breathing. Light-headed or not, she couldn’t pull away. She needed his kiss like she needed air, and he was going to have to be the one to stop it.

Only he didn’t. His hands slipped into her hair, and he lowered his face to hers so that she didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes. His tongue met hers, and he pulled closer as if he needed her the same way she needed him.

If he never pulled away, if he’d stand out here kissing her till they froze, Mia wouldn’t complain. Kissing Ben felt more than just good. It felt right. Like she’d been traveling a long time and had finally landed exactly where she should have been all along. It was as if she could feel broken pieces of herself mending together, halves becoming whole.

And somehow, even though she couldn’t explain it, she knew he felt the same way.

 ***

Excerpted from Love at First Bark by Debbie Burns. © 2019 by Debbie Burns. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

Review

I have enjoyed each book in this series for the story but mostly for the dogs.  The series centers around a shelter in St Louis and the various employees and volunteers.  I love how the shelter is very proactive in getting pets adopted and roping in local celebrities to help in their mission.  It doesn’t hurt that some of those well known local names find love in several of these books.

This book is a little sadder than others at least to start.  It focuses on Mia who is a recent widow.  She has a 7 year old son, Ollie, and while she was about to divorce her husband he ended up dying unexpectedly.  Enter Ollie’s godfather, Ben, who has always had a thing for Mia yet a mixup in college created a new path for each of them.  Mia also has some not-so-nice inlaws that seem to think their son could do no wrong.  They are about to find out how wrong they are in that thought process.  While I’m not sure we truly find out their feelings once they know the truth, there is a hint of shock and perhaps it is an eye-opener.

Ben is a very caring man and it is very surprising that he is still single.  That could be due to his interest in Mia all these years, he could be battling some of his own demons about his life, or maybe no one else measured up to his standards.  I love how he takes an interest in a teenager and shows him how to be a kind and caring young man.

Then there are the dogs…we can’t forget them!  A crazy woman lets loose a pack of border collies (around 13 I think).  Mia becomes a foster “fail” when she falls in love with a mother and her puppy that are both deaf.  I loved it and how it really helped Ollie move forward past his dad’s death.

Overall this was a great story and I can’t wait to see who might be featured in the next book in this series.  We give it 4 paws up.

About the Author

Debbie Burns’ writing commendations include a Booklist Top 10 Romance Debut of 2017, a Starred Review from Publishers Weekly, and a Top Pick from RT Book Reviews, as well as first-place awards for short stories, flash fiction, and longer selections. She lives in St. Louis with her family, two phenomenal rescue dogs, and a somewhat tetchy Maine coon cat who everyone loves anyway.

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Giveaway, Guest Post, romance on July 31, 2019

 

 

Title: Nothing But This

Author: Natasha Anders

Release Date: July 30, 2019

Publisher: Montlake Romance

Synopsis

It’s always been complicated between Libby Lawson and Greyson Chapman—and married life isn’t any simpler. But when Libby gets pregnant, she, at last, sees a bright future ahead. There’s just one problem: Greyson says he’s sterile.

Furious, Greyson abandons the young family. Equally furious and deeply hurt, Libby cuts all ties with him. After all these years, it seems their relationship has finally expired. But love is resilient and endures even when you don’t want it to. Greyson still longs for Libby, and though Libby’s heartbroken by Greyson’s lack of trust, she holds out hope for a complete, happy family.

And so they embark on the journey back to each other, wary of all the obstacles between them. It’s been a long road already—one strewed with fear, doubt, and misunderstandings. Will they keep looking to the past, or will they look to each other and walk hand in hand toward a broad new horizon?

 

Guest Post: A Marriage Destroyed with Natasha Anders

Hi there, my name is Natasha Anders and I’m excited to talk to you about the second book in my Broken Pieces series, Nothing But This.

My long-time readers will know that I’m a fan of second chance romances and absolutely love a good marriage in trouble trope. The story of Greyson and Libby falls firmly within the latter category.

It’s not easy to write a marriage in crisis novel. By the time we’re introduced to the characters, they already have a relationship history behind them that readers have yet to discover. We enter this particular story at the lowest point of their relationship. The birth of a child should be a happy occasion but something is clearly wrong here; Libby’s husband isn’t there and she believes he hates her and her baby. And when Greyson eventually makes his way onto the page, her belief is confirmed.

No marriage can survive the things Greyson says at the beginning of this book and finding a way back from that low point is nearly impossible. I know that my readers are going to loathe him at the start. My heroine despises him and his own family is angry with him. I have to find a way to redeem him that will make everybody happy. And, harder still, I have to find a way to make the readers forgive him and, ideally, start to root for him.

It’s a challenge that I absolutely adore. I love hearing from readers who have that “wait a second, when did I stop hating him?” moment. I want his redemption arc to be so seamless that readers can’t pinpoint exactly when they started forgiving him. This is easier said than done and Greyson needs to do a lot of groveling and apologizing to even get a foot in the door. I like to look at what he’s doing and saying and put myself in the heroine’s and the reader’s position. Is this enough? Have I forgiven him yet? Even if the answer is yes, I try to push it just a little further because “enough” is never good enough and there will always be someone out there who wants him to suffer just that tiny bit more. It sounds sadistic, but I do like to put my characters (male and female) through the wringer. They need to earn that happy ending.

But the story needs to be balanced and while my hero is terribly flawed and at times insecure and vulnerable, his heroine needs to show a similar amount of character growth and self-recognition. She needs to find an inner strength and confidence that she lacks at the start of the novel. Striking the exact right balance and making their journey toward redemption and a satisfactory and well-earned happily ever after is what makes writing a second chance romance so hard.

One of the things I hope readers take away from this book is that a situation isn’t always as cut and dried as it seems on the surface. Greyson comes across as one hundred percent villain at the start of this book. But he’s insecure and incredibly lonely. This story is about a man breaking out of his self-imposed isolation and finding a place, not only in his wife’s heart and life, but also within a welcoming and accepting society. It is also the story of a woman learning to embrace and accept the flaws within herself and others.

I loved writing this book. I started with only one scene constantly playing out in my head; the hospital scene where Greyson unequivocally rejects his wife and his child. That’s all I had at the beginning and building this story around that one moment, was often frustrating but at the same time so incredibly satisfying. I loved discovering Libby and Greyson’s strengths and weaknesses and often found that some of those weaknesses echoed my own. It was a vulnerable space within which to find myself but it was also a rewarding step on my personal journey toward self-realization and recognition.

Thank you so much for taking the time to step into my not always sane mind. I do hope you enjoy reading Nothing But This as much as I loved writing it.

***

Nothing But This Excerpt

“We need to talk.”

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”

“Libby, please.”

“Why are you here? How are you here? Who told you how to find me?”

There was a long pause as he continued to grimace in her general direction, his eyes slits to protect himself from the light.

“I have money and resources. I’ve known where you are for months . . .” He hesitated before continuing, “For four months, to be exact.”

“Well, then why are you here?”

“Can we discuss this inside?”

“I don’t want you in my house.”

He compressed his lips in that way he had when he was trying to refrain from speaking his mind. An expression with which she was much too familiar. It used to bother her back when she cared about what he was thinking. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind and swallowed back the words.

Oh, wasn’t he just the model of restraint tonight? Well, Libby had no such reservations and felt a sense of complete liberation when she unleashed the torrent of resentment and fury that had been roiling away just beneath the surface for much longer than the four months since she’d left him. A lot of her anger had been tamped down during her pregnancy, when he hadn’t offered a single word or gesture of support. The excuses she had made on his behalf . . . she was disgusted with herself for not speaking up sooner. But now he was here, in the flesh, and she could finally let him have it. With both barrels.

“You’re a vile, disgusting excuse for a man, Greyson. I want nothing more to do with you. I don’t want my baby within a hundred miles of you. And even that seems too close. I don’t want you here, contaminating our lives with your toxic presence. You don’t get to come here and . . . and . . . whatever the hell this is. I don’t know what you want, I don’t want to know what you want. I want you gone.”

“Libby, I understand why you feel that way. But I thought . . .”

Clara’s crying was escalating, and Libby’s rocking increased agitatedly.

“Yes, I know. Thought you were infertile, right? And I’m supposed to—what? Feel sorry for you? Understand your cruelty? Forgive your cruelty? Am I to take it that you’ve had that paternity test done? You know she’s yours, am I right? Is that why you’re here? Because let me tell you, mister, you have no moral right to my child—I will not allow you access to her just because you now believe you’re her father.”

“I haven’t had any paternity tests done.”

That made her pause, but not for long.

“I don’t care,” she decided. “I don’t care. Go away. Back to your diamond-encrusted ivory tower. Leave us alone. We don’t need you.”

“I know you don’t. But . . . maybe I need you?”

 

About the Author

Natasha Anders was born in Cape Town, South Africa. She spent the last nine years working as an assistant English teacher in Niigata, Japan, where she became a legendary karaoke diva. Natasha is currently living in Cape Town with her temperamental and opinionated budgie, Sir Oliver Spencer, who has kindly deigned to share his apartment with her. Please feel free to contact her (or Oliver) on Facebook or Twitter.

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Giveaway, romance on July 30, 2019

Title: Resist
Author: K. Bromberg
Release Date: July 30, 2019
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Synopsis

Who says you have to play by the rules to get what you want?

Agreeing to meet Ryker Lockhart is my first mistake. Rich, handsome, and more than intriguing, he thinks blackmail will bend me to his will.

But he’s wrong.

I may have done a few things that weren’t exactly legal, but I have my own reasons for that. The last thing I’m going to do is let some high-powered divorce attorney come into my life, have my body, and rule my heart. Not to mention ruin everything that I have carefully built in just a short amount of time.

But as much as I try to resist him, and against my better judgment, there is something about him that has me agreeing to his proposal.

I’m putting everything on the line for him. I just hope I won’t lose everything when this is all over.

 

Guest Post: A Pretty Woman With Power by K. Bromberg

Ryker Lockhart: Powerful. Unrelenting. Stubborn.

Vaughn Sanders: Defiant. Strong. Unyielding.

With those two sets of characteristics, Ryker and Vaughn are definitely oil and water one moment and then an ember met with gasoline the next. That dynamic is what made writing them and their story so much fun in my latest book, Resist. Their tale was a delicate dance though because the push and pull of the chase better be worth the reward for readers.

I often enjoy taking characters and painting them with broad strokes (i.e. Vaughn’s profession) so that readers initially question them. Then over the next 100,000 words, I love to smash their preconceived notions so that they root for the heroine. So that they are right beside her cheering her on and falling in love with the hero just like she is.

It’s not often an easy task to write a heroine, because women are often harsher on female characters than they are males. Heroes can be over the top alphas who are dominant and say all the wrong things, but once they show vulnerability, we somehow forgive them. Heroines on the other hand, are judged more fiercely. She’s too weak. She’s too strong. She’s too wishy- washy. She’s being a b*tch for pushing him away. Making a reader like a strong-willed female character isn’t always an easy task. So when you put two characters together who embody all of these things, it’s a delicate balance to have enough push and pull. Enough sexual tension. Enough redeemable qualities so you can love them despite their faults.

This challenge is one of the reasons I loved writing Resist (and its sequel Reveal). I don’t quite remember where the storyline came from, but I recall the furious scribbling on paper as Ryker and Vaughn’s story came to life in my imagination. Take a strong-willed woman with a risqué job and give her a real reason to need that job. Take a domineering divorce attorney who deals with love gone wrong day-in and day-out, and force him to see that there can be more than just sex between a man and a woman. That love is, in fact, possible.

Challenge accepted.

Is Resist a subtle nod to the Pretty Woman trope? I never really thought of it that way, but I can see the similarities being drawn. Vaughn (my character) and Vivian (movie character) have names that both start with the letter V. They both wear a red dress in a scene. The both work in fields that deal with selling sex for profit . . . but that’s where the comparisons stop.

Vaughn Sanders is a force to be reckoned with. Sure, she’s a madam, but once you get beneath the moniker, readers find a strong-willed woman taking measures into her own hands for the benefit of someone else. Readers will find a woman with a strong backbone and a take no prisoners attitude. A woman they can’t wait to see succeed. Sure, we throw in our hero–Ryker, a senator you know is dirty somehow, an adorable niece, and whole cast of other characters and situations and we’re left trying to figure out how it’s all going to play out . . . but the one thing we know for sure, is that we want Ryker and Vaughn to end up together.

Because hopefully when you finish Resist, like Ryker and Vaughn, you start to believe true love does in fact exist.

***

Excerpt

The lobby is elegant, with its large chandeliers, but they’re kept dim so as to allow each of its patrons some privacy. Almost as if they know I’m trying to hide some from the rest of the room for a bit. Soft classical music flows from the overhead speakers as people mill about in evening wear. There are hugs given among people, and laughs echo off the walls and marble floors.

I stand in the corner, surveying the crowd as nerves I don’t want to admit to run a riotous act within, and my mind tries to grapple for the nth time with what I’m about to do.

You’re keeping your reputation intact.

That’s how I have to look at this. That’s how I have to justify this.

Just like that, my breath catches when Ryker Lockhart waltzes into the lobby. I’m rarely affected by a man—sure, I can say one is handsome or sexy or gorgeous, but rarely does a man really catch my eye.

But there he is . . . standing in the middle of the lobby, surveying everyone around him, making my pulse race.

This is a bad idea.

He’s tall, his shoulders are broad, and there’s an air about him that screams authority while a magnetism about him makes people look his way.

And he hasn’t even spoken a word to anyone yet.

Such a bad idea.

He’s in a well-tailored tuxedo, everything black save for the crisp white dress shirt beneath it. His hair is styled, and an expensive watch glints at his wrist when he holds it up to look at the time.

Of course, that’s my cue that I’m not there exactly on time, but I give him a few more seconds to make him wait.

It’s all about power, even when I’m in a different pair of shoes.

With a deep breath, I walk toward him, shoulders square, head high, and remind myself that I’m not Vee right now. I can’t act like we’re on an equal playing field.

He has hired me. I am his.

 

 

About the Author

New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary romance novels that are sweet, emotional, a lot sexy, and a little bit real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes that readers love to hate but can’t help loving.

Since publishing her first book on a whim in 2013, Bromberg has sold over 1.5 million copies of her books across eighteen different countries and has repeatedly landed on the bestseller lists for the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by the streaming platform Passionflix, with Driven available now.

You can find out more about this mom of three on any of her social media accounts. The easiest way to stay up to date is to sign up for her newsletter or text “KBromberg” to 77948 to receive text alerts when a new book is released.

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Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance, Texas on July 28, 2019

 

A SEAL Never Quits

By Holly Castillo

Publication Date 7/30/2019

 

Synopsis

First in a thrilling romantic suspense series featuring a band of do-or-die Navy SEALs in Texas

A SEAL is ready for anything…except losing his heart…

Lieutenant Amador “Stryker” Salas and his tight-knit Navy SEAL team are undercover on a Texas ranch and tasked with covert ops across the border. It’s an assignment that requires all their skills, all their secrets, and all their know-how.

Anya Gutierrez, the local veterinarian, has been serving the ranch for years. She loves the animals and ranching life, and Stryker finds her a breath of fresh air in his otherwise rigidly disciplined existence.

When Anya gets caught in the crosshairs of a mission gone sideways, Stryker must tell her the truth about who he really is, risking everything to keep her out of harm’s way, even if it destroys him…

Amazon * B&NApple * Kobo * IndieBound

 

Excerpt

She had just lifted her hand for the doorbell when the door was yanked open by a man who could have been Stryker’s brother. His skin was lighter, and while Stryker’s hair had a slight wave to it, this man’s hair was straight and cropped rather short. He was tall, and, in his simple T-shirt and jeans, his muscles were obvious. He looked at her, then smiled, though it seemed it wasn’t something he was used to doing.

“You must be the veterinarian,” he said, and held the door open a little farther. “Come in.”

A wave of cool, air-conditioned air welcomed her into the foyer, and her eyes drank in the beautiful architecture and design of the house. She couldn’t see anything that reminded her of the previous house. It was as if the entire place had been gutted, and they had started over.

“My name’s Phantom, by the way,” her door greeter said, extending his hand to her.

She smiled up at him as she shook his hand. “I’m Anya Gutierrez. Are you—do you live here now too?”

He nodded. “I’m here, along with Stryker and four other men. Buzz is the newbie to the ranching world, so if you see a guy who looks totally out of place, that’s him.”

Anya grinned at him. “I’m sure you’re going to educate him just fine.”

A sly smile crept across Phantom’s face, and Anya suddenly felt very sorry for Buzz. “Oh, yeah. Buzz is in good hands.”

The sound of boots on the hardwood floors came from somewhere within the house, and Stryker suddenly rounded the corner and faced both of them. He eyed Phantom for a moment, then turned his full attention on Anya. “Are you ready to go?”

He was dressed in a navy-blue button-down shirt and a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly. Anya felt like asking him to turn around so she could get the full picture. Good grief, this man is turning my mind to mush. She felt the heat of a blush burning her face. “Y-yes,” she stammered. “I’m ready to go.”

“Be back later,” he tossed over his shoulder to Phantom, as he opened the door and placed his hand at the small of Anya’s back, guiding her out the door in front of him.

The feel of his hand through the cotton of her polo shirt sent a small thrill through her. She had to remind herself to breathe as he escorted her to his F-250, which already had the gooseneck trailer attached to it. It was a big trailer, and she knew they’d be able to bring home at least ten or more calves. It would be a good addition to his current cattle, especially since he had about twenty-five head that were ready to be auctioned off to make room for some heartier heifers.

The ride to Kingsville was punctuated by the sounds of the latest country music coming through the radio. Anya had come prepared for the drive with her ledger and a stack of invoices she needed to record before mailing them out. Stryker had taken one look at her paperwork, raised an eyebrow, and then returned his eyes to the road.

They hadn’t talked since the first day she had met him, and only briefly when she had called to tell him about this sale. She’d hesitated even to call him, but she’d made a commitment. She hadn’t expected him to say yes.

They pulled up to the sale arena where the Kleberg-Kenedy County Junior Livestock Show was held every winter, and Anya remembered with fondness her years showing cattle and goats and even some turkeys. She had won the title of County Stock Show Queen when she was sixteen, and then had gone on to win the County Rodeo Queen when she was seventeen. She still had her tiaras and sashes.

“What on earth has put that look on your face?” Stryker asked. She realized at that moment they’d parked and she was still sitting in the truck with a goofy look on her face.

“Dreams,” she replied with a smile. “Haven’t you heard of them before, Stryker?”

Her quip at his expense seemed to take him by surprise. He shook his head at her, then left the truck. “Well, you’re about as much fun as getting a root canal,” Anya said to herself, before her door was yanked open and Stryker stood looking up at her impatiently.

She hopped down from the truck and instantly had to scramble to get her feet set right underneath her on the muddy ground. Suddenly Stryker’s muscular arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her to him, holding her tight.

She was hit with the scent of his spicy cologne, leather, and man—pure, hearty man—and her hands immediately pressed against the front of his shirt as her feet settled beneath her. But her mind and body were far from settled.

He leaned down and the feeling of his lips brushing lightly against her ear caused her heart to thunder so hard, she was afraid it would beat out of her chest. “Just for your information, I can be far more fun than a root canal…You just have to know what to ask for.”

***

Excerpted from A SEAL Never Quits by Holly Castillo. © 2019 by Holly Castillo. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

 

About the Author

Holly Castillo lives on an80 acre ranch, surrounded by cattle during the day and hearing the howl of coyotes by night. She has endless inspiration for her writing. Holly’s romantic suspense series about heroic Navy SEALs is set in her own backyard of South Texas. She lives with her husband and two children just south of San Antonio.

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Goodreads

 

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Posted in excerpt, Historical, romance on July 26, 2019

 

Title: Brazen and the Beast
Author: Sarah MacLean
ISBN: 9780062692078
On-Sale Date: 7/30/19

Synopsis

New York Times Bestselling Author Sarah MacLean returns with the next book in the Bareknuckle Bastards series about three brothers bound by a secret that they cannot escape—and the women who bring them to their knees.

The Lady’s Plan

When Lady Henrietta Sedley declares her twenty-ninth year her own, she has plans to inherit her father’s business, to make her own fortune, and to live her own life. But first, she intends to experience a taste of the pleasure she’ll forgo as a confirmed spinster. Everything is going perfectly…until she discovers the most beautiful man she’s ever seen tied up in her carriage and threatening to ruin the Year of Hattie before it’s even begun.

The Bastard’s Proposal

When he wakes in a carriage at Hattie’s feet, Whit, a king of Covent Garden known to all the world as Beast, can’t help but wonder about the strange woman who frees him—especially when he discovers she’s headed for a night of pleasure . . . on his turf. He is more than happy to offer Hattie all she desires…for a price.

An Unexpected Passion

Soon, Hattie and Whit find themselves rivals in business and pleasure. She won’t give up her plans; he won’t give up his power . . . and neither of them sees that if they’re not careful, they’ll have no choice but to give up everything . . . including their hearts.

Excerpt

September 1837

Mayfair

 

In twenty-eight years and three hundred sixty-four days, Lady Henrietta Sedley liked to think that she’d learned a few things.

She’d learned, for example, that if a lady could not get away with wearing trousers (an unfortunate reality for the daughter of an earl, even one who had begun life without title or fortune), then she should absolutely ensure that her skirts included pockets. A woman never knew when she might require a bit of rope, or a knife to cut it, after all.

She’d also learned that any decent escape from her Mayfair home required the cover of darkness and a carriage driven by an ally. Coachmen tended to talk a fine game when it came to keeping secrets, but were ultimately beholden to those who paid their salaries. An important addendum to that particular lesson was this: The best of allies was often the best of friends.

And perhaps first on the list of things she had learned in her lifetime was how to tie a Bosun knot. She’d been able to do that for as long as she could remember.

With such an obscure and uncommon collection of knowledge, one might imagine that Henrietta Sedley would have known precisely what to do in the likelihood she discovered a human male bound and unconscious in her carriage.

One would be incorrect.

In point of fact, Henrietta Sedley would never have described such a scenario as a likelihood. After all, she might have been more comfortable on London’s docks than in its ballrooms, but Hattie’s impressive collection of life experience lacked anything close to a criminal element.

And yet, here she was, pockets full, dearest friend at her side, standing in the pitch dark on the night before her twenty-ninth birthday, about to steal away from Mayfair for a night of best-laid plans, and…

Lady Eleanora Madewell whistled, low and unladylike at Hattie’s ear. Daughter of a duke and the Irish actress he loved so much he’d made her a duchess, Nora had the kind of brashness that was allowed in those with impervious titles and scads of money. “There’s a bloke in the gig, Hattie.”

Hattie did not look away from the bloke in question. “Yes, I see that.”

“There wasn’t a bloke in the gig when we hitched the horses.”

“No, there wasn’t.” They’d left the hitched—and most definitely empty—carriage in the dark rear drive of Sedley House not three-quarters of an hour earlier, before hiking upstairs to exchange carriage-hitching dresses for attire more appropriate for their evening plans.

At some point between corset and kohl, someone had left her an extraordinarily unwelcome package.

“Seems we would’ve noticed a bloke in the gig,”

“I should think we would have,” came Hattie’s distracted reply. “This is really just awful timing.”

Nora cut her a look. “Is there a good time for a man to be bound in one’s carriage?”

Hattie imagined there wasn’t, but, “He could have selected a different evening. What a terrible birthday gift.” She squinted into the dark interior of the carriage. “Do you think he’s dead?”

Please, don’t let him be dead.

Silence. Then, a thoughtful, “Does one store dead men in carriages?” Nora reached forward, her coachman’s coat pulling tight over her shoulders, and poked the dead man in question. He did not move. “He’s not moving,” she added. “Could be dead.”

Hattie sighed, removing a glove and leaning into the carriage to place two fingers to the man’s neck. “I’m sure he’s not dead.”

“What are you doing?” Nora whispered, urgently. “If he’s not dead, you’ll wake him!”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” Hattie pointed out. “Then we could ask him to kindly exit our conveyance and we could be on our way.”

“Oh, yes. This brute seems like precisely the kind of man who would immediately do just that and not immediately take his revenge. He’d no doubt doff his cap and wish us a fine good evening.”

“He’s not wearing a cap,” Hattie pointed out, unable to refute any of the rest of the assessment of the mysterious, possibly dead man. He was very broad, and very solid, and even in the darkness she could tell that this wasn’t a man with whom one took a turn about a ballroom.

This was the kind of man who ransacked a ballroom.

“What do you feel?” Nora pressed.

“No pulse.” Though she wasn’t precisely certain of the location one would find a pulse. “But he’s—”

Warm.

Dead men were not warm, and this man was very warm. Like a fire in winter. The kind of warm that made someone realize how cold she might be.

Ignoring the silly thought, Hattie moved her fingers down the column of his neck, to the place where it disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, where the curve of his shoulder and the slope of…the rest of him… met in a fascinating indentation.

“Anything now?”

“Quiet.” Hattie held her breath. Nothing. She shook her head.

“Christ.” It wasn’t a prayer.

Hattie couldn’t have agreed more. But then…

There. A small flutter. She pressed a touch more firmly. The flutter became firm. Slow. Even. “I feel it. She said. “He’s alive.” She repeated herself. “He’s alive.” She exhaled, long and relieved. “He’s not dead.”

“Excellent. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s unconscious in the carriage, and you have somewhere to be.” She paused. “We should leave him and take the curricle.”

Hattie had been planning for this particular excursion on this particular night for a full three months. This was the night that would begin her twenty-ninth year. The year her life would become her own. The year she would become her own. And she had a very specific plan for a very specific location at a very specific hour, for which she had donned a very specific frock. And yet, as she stared at the man in her carriage, specifics seemed not at all important.

What seemed important was seeing his face.

Clinging to the handle at the edge of the door, Hattie collected the lantern from the upper rear corner of the carriage before swinging back out to face Nora, whose gaze flickered immediately to the unlit container.

Nora tilted her head. “Hattie. Leave him. Let’s take the curricle.”

“Just a peek,” Hattie replied.

The tilt became a shake. “If you peek, you’ll regret it.”

“I have to peek,” Hattie insisted, casting about for a decent reason—ignoring the odd fact that she was unable to tell her friend the truth. “I have to untie him.”

“Not necessarily,” Nora pointed out. “Someone thought he was best left tied up, and who are we to disagree?” Hattie was already reaching into the pocket of the carriage door for a flint. “What of your plans?”

There was plenty of time for her plans. “Just a peek,” she repeated, the oil in the lantern catching fire. She closed the door and turned to face the carriage, lifting the light high, casting a lovely golden glow over—

“Oh, my,” she said.

Nora choked back a laugh. “Not such a bad gift after all, perhaps.”

The man had the most beautiful face Hattie had ever seen. The most beautiful face anyone had ever seen, she imagined. She leaned closer, taking in his warm, bronze skin, the high cheekbones, the long, straight nose, the dark slashes of his brows and the impossibly long lashes that lay like feathers against his cheeks.

“What kind of man…” she trailed off. Shook her head.

What kind of man looked like this?

What kind of man looked like this and somehow landed in the carriage of Hattie

 

About the Author

A life-long romance reader, Sarah MacLean wrote her first romance novel on a dare, and never looked back. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of historical romances and a columnist for The Washington Post, where she writes about the romance genre. She lives in New York City. Visit her at www.sarahmaclean.net.

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