Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Heartbreak's A Bitch by S.M Phillip

Unlucky in love Emily Parker is about to turn thirty. The big three-0!
Yet, the dream house, perfect husband and cute little children are nowhere to be seen; a little like her sex life.
Instead, most nights consist of a dine in for one, a few bottles of wine and the odd fumble with Vinnie the Vibrator, if she's lucky; so long as she has remembered to stock up on the batteries.
Is this now her life?
It's a far cry from where she imagined it would be when she reached her prime.
Where did it all go wrong? Even the big wide world of online dating isn't getting her anywhere, fast.
Right now, the only thing that Emily knows, is that Heartbreak's a bitch!


Amazon US -
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Kobo - https://goo.gl/OQ2I29






S.M Phillips is a fun loving mum from Manchester. When she’s not busy writing, you’ll most likely find her head buried deep inside her kindle with a cup of coffee in hand. Talk to her when she’s reading and things could get pretty colourful, pretty fast, just ask her Hubby.
She is a lover of chocolate, especially if it has peanut butter inside and loves a good cocktail or two. She often wonders if she should spend more time buying shoes, but then she remembers her never ending TBR list and realises that money can be spent on more important things… Books.




THE DO-OVER by Julie A. Richman

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The Do-Over, an all-new emotional, second chance STANDALONE romance by Julie A. Richman is now LIVE!!

~ Sometimes, one degree is all that separates you from the one you were meant to be with. ~

Wes Bergman was sex on a stick.

We’d been circling one another our entire lives, mingling at the same clubs... attending the same events…sharing mutual acquaintances…yet we’d never actually met.

Until . . . we both boarded a Windjammer Cruise in the Caribbean. And it was like meeting my long, lost best friend for the first time. I hadn’t ever connected with a guy that way before.

But Wes had a girlfriend. So, when the week was over, he walked off the ship, unknowingly taking a piece of my heart with him.

Now, over a decade later, newly divorced, I’m the proverbial fish out of water. Dating has totally changed. Apps. Swipe left. Swipe right. Catfishing. Men my age want two things: twenty-five-year-olds—like my ex’s new child bride of a wife—or just a quick hook-up.

After a string of bad dates, I finally did something I never thought I’d do. I had a hot one-night stand with a really handsome guy I met online who didn’t even know my real name.

Turned out Mr. Fling is a big shot for my company’s newest client. And just my

luck, that client’s CEO is none other than . . . Wes Bergman.

Now I’m separated by one degree again from the man who stole my heart.

And Mr. Fling could destroy my chance of what I want most –

A Do-Over with Wes.

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Excerpt:

His hand slowly stroking up and down the outside of my thigh is what roused me from my dream state. It was so soft and tender that I was getting more and more turned on with every movement. With my eyes still closed, I enjoyed the sensation. It wasn’t until his lips started brushing my shoulder, that I was unable to stifle a moan, revealing that I was awake. “Good morning,” his whisper was hoarse. “Mmm, good morning.” I stretched my body against his and turned my head to see his face hovering over mine, before our lips met. “Sleep good?” “Surprisingly, I did. I was so exhausted. Sorry for passing out on you last night,” I apologized. “I think we both passed out the moment our heads hit the pillows.” Wes’ hand had migrated from my thigh to my stomach, where he softly drew circles with his fingertips. Rolling over to face him, I pushed my hair out of the way, silently praying my humidity enhanced curls didn’t make me look like a deranged housewife, scaring the erection right out of the man. Slinging a leg over his thigh, I instantly got my answer. The crazy morning coif was not a cock killer. Thank God! “You’re a morning person, I see.” Hiding my smile was not a possibility. “Yeah, I am,” Wes laughed, moving closer to me, his eyes filled with the unmistakable desire to become lovers, something I’d dreamed about on the deck of a windjammer long ago. “You can wake me up like this anytime.” I needed to let him know it was okay. He’d said he’d take it as slow as I wanted it and what I wanted right now was a slow rhythm of him plowing into me. Hard. “Are you hard to wake up?” He was pressed up against me. “I think you’ll figure out the secrets to rousing me.” “You’ve already figured out the secrets to arousing me.” His voice still had that sexy edge of morning roughness to it, making me want to skip all foreplay and have him inside me. “I’ll bet you have a few more secrets I can discover,” I said against his lips, as I shifted the leg I had slung over him, pressing my heat and wetness against his already throbbing cock. Wes groaned and I could feel his smile against my lips. “You know you’re going to make it impossible to make slow, sweet love to you.” “Good, because I don’t want it slow and sweet.” Wes flipped me onto my back, “I can easily accommodate your wishes. Are you on anything or do I need to…” “We’re good,” I assured him. “Yes, we are.” He kissed my neck, then swiftly pulled my tank top over my head tossing it to the floor. “We’re going to be really good together. Of that, I have no doubt.” And I knew he was right. Being with this man had been so perfect from the night we met. We meshed with ease and the result was pure joy. The warmth in his eyes and smile made my breath catch, and in that moment, I was flooded with overwhelming emotion at how much I wanted him. How much I’d always wanted him. It was more than lust, beyond the heat of the moment. Wes Bergman was the man I had always wanted, from the night we met. That was clear to me now. “I vote we skip the foreplay.” I wriggled out of my underwear. “You’re on.” His smile told me he was taking on the challenge. “You’re in,” I gasped, my breath catching in my throat, surprised at the swiftness with which he filled my request. an-thedo-over

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About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling author Julie A. Richman is a native New Yorker living deep in the heart of Texas. A creative writing major in college, reading and writing fiction has always been a passion. Julie began her corporate career in publishing in NYC and writing played a major role throughout her career as she created and wrote marketing, advertising, direct mail and fundraising materials for Fortune 500 corporations, advertising agencies and non-profit organizations. She is an award winning nature photographer plagued with insatiable wanderlust. Julie and her husband have one son and a white German Shepherd named Juneau. jarheadshot

Connect with Julie:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJulieARichman

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HenrysHangover/?fref=nf Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/ore7g3u Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/JulieARichman Website: http://juliearichman.com/ Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/znsvx5u Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/RYac1

Gear Up


It's almost time for the big game.

Whether or not your team is playing this Sunday, you need some romance to go with those hot wings. We've got it right here: seven SUPER football romances, love stories that go the distance and score that extra point every time. The box set includes: Patricia Burroughs: Some Enchanted Season In this doomed, yet enchanted, football season, dare they hope something magical can happen that will last forever? Jami Davenport: Blindsided A temporary marriage knocked him off his game, but love blindsided him. Ann Jacobs: The Rookie Rookie quarterback sets his sights on Marauders cheerleader. Tawdra Kandle: When We Were Us All's fair in love and football. Nicola Marsh: Bold Aussie Rules? There are no rules in the game of love. Liz Matis: Guarding the Quarterback Miss Congeniality meets the The Bodyguard. Holly Roberts: Play Love scores when you least expect it and winning is everything.

Get your copy here!

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Drifter by Janine Infante Bosco

Title: Drifter
Series: A Nomad Series Novel Book One
Author: Janine Infante Bosco
Genre: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense
Published: November 8, 2016 Cover Designer: JB's Cover Obsession Design Model: Matthew Hosea Photographer: Wander Pedro Aguiar
Stryker
I’m a drifter. 
A man born to ride through this world alone.
There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives.
I was going to be a true American hero.
But God had another plan.
Or maybe Satan did.
For everything I touch finds mortality.
I’m no hero.
I’m nothing.
I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell.
Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos.
The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes.
A girl who has the power to turn me inside out.
A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior.
Until she’s not.
But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.
Gina Spinelli
Strong. Independent. Fierce. 
They are the three things I strived to be. 
But sometimes being successful can be lonely. 
Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her. 
Maybe even love her. 
Sometimes the strong become vulnerable. 
Or worse, the victor becomes the victim. 
Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you. 
Defeated. Broken. Haunted. 
They are the three things I have become. 
In my darkest hour I admit defeat. 
In my darkest hour I need one person. 
I need him. 
Stryker.
***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***

Excerpt – “The ride”: Drifter – A Nomad Series Novel Book One © Copyright All Rights Reserved 2016
That fucking skirt she’s wearing hugs her curves, leaving little to the imagination, and while the view is fucking amazing, she couldn’t be dressed any worse for the ride on the back of my bike. She knew it too and before she followed me out the front door of the swanky steakhouse, she sashayed those hips of hers to the bar. She asked the bartender for a steak knife, handed it to me and asked me to do what every motherfucker in the joint wanted to do—cut the skirt. I traded the serrated blade of the steak knife for the sharp blade I kept in my back pocket and sliced through the stitch behind her knees, extending the slit up the back of the skirt so she could straddle my bike. I’d tear the fucking thing off when it came time for her to straddle me, and just for kicks, maybe I’d cut it off her because fuck me, cutting through the stitching of her skirt had me hard as a rock.
It took every ounce of control I could muster not to let my hands travel under that skirt and sink my fingers deep into her ass cheeks. Instead, I kept my hands on her hips, spun her around and stared up into her eyes. They might be my favorite part of her. After spending most of my time with her fighting not to take in every inch of her body, allowing myself only glimpses so I wouldn’t be distracted by her curves, I became pretty fucking hooked on those eyes. They were a bewitching shade of green.
So fucking rare.
So fucking unique.
So damn pretty.
They had the power to put me in a trance just like her hips that swayed back and forth like a pendulum.
Fuck—everything about her made me want to forget who I am and learn who she is.
The roar of my engine purrs, distracting me from her perfect face and I see the parking attendant pull my bike up in front of us. I hand him the ticket, pay the fee and turn around to Gina, watching as she bites down on her plump bottom lip and assesses my Harley.
Throwing a leg over my bike, I grab the helmet dangling off one of the handlebars and offer it to her.
“Still want that ride?” I ask when she doesn’t take the helmet and continues to stare at the bike. I don’t see any hesitation when her eyes lock with mine and a smile spreads across her sensual mouth—a mouth made for a man to dream of when he’s lonely.
“You bet your ass I do,” she says, closing the distance between us as she braces her hand on my shoulder and straddles the bike. She fits the helmet to her head and adjusts the chin strap as I glance down at her five-inch spiked heels and shake my head. She didn’t belong on the back of a motorcycle, she belonged sprawled out on leather seats in the back of a limo with the divider rolled up and me between her legs.  
We were night and day. She was beauty and class and I was nothing, a shell of a man left broken and tormented from war, fresh out of prison, an outlaw—yet, here we were and neither of us seemed to give a fuck.
Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild. Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself. She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.
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Gear Up


It's almost time for the big game.

Whether or not your team is playing this Sunday, you need some romance to go with those hot wings. We've got it right here: seven SUPER football romances, love stories that go the distance and score that extra point every time. The box set includes: Patricia Burroughs: Some Enchanted Season In this doomed, yet enchanted, football season, dare they hope something magical can happen that will last forever? Jami Davenport: Blindsided A temporary marriage knocked him off his game, but love blindsided him. Ann Jacobs: The Rookie Rookie quarterback sets his sights on Marauders cheerleader. Tawdra Kandle: When We Were Us All's fair in love and football. Nicola Marsh: Bold Aussie Rules? There are no rules in the game of love. Liz Matis: Guarding the Quarterback Miss Congeniality meets the The Bodyguard. Holly Roberts: Play Love scores when you least expect it and winning is everything.

Get your copy here!

      a Rafflecopter giveaway

VIOLET CHAIN by J Kahele

VIOLET CHAIN
by J Kahele

How To Date A Douchebag by Sara Ney

Title: How To Date A Douchebag: The Failing Hours
Author: Sara Ney
Genre: New Adult, Sports Romance, College Romance
Release Date: January 31, 2017
Zeke Daniels isn't just a douchebag; he's an asshole. 
A total and complete jerk, Zeke keeps people at a distance. He has no interest in relationships—most assholes don’t. 
Dating? Being part of a couple? Nope. Not for him.
He's never given any thought to what he wants in a girlfriend, because he's never had any intention of having one. 
Shit, he barely has a relationship with his family, and they're related; his own friends don’t even like him. 
So why does he keep thinking about Violet DeLuca? 
Sweet, quiet Violet—his opposite in every sense of the word.
The light to his dark, even her damn name sounds like rays of sunshine and happiness and shit.
And that pisses him off, too.

"Best Read of 2017! A one click must for any lover of hot, sexy romance done RIGHT ! [This] story is the quintessential slow burn effect...Zeke will come to own your body and soul--I am OBSESSED with this series and The Failing Hours has just shot to my 'Best of All Time' list. Be prepared to fall in love with a douche bag and the woman who sets him straight. " - Books and Boys Book Blog
“That was EVERYTHING I expected, wanted, dreamed of. . . this is a MUST FREAKING READ. UNFORGETTABLE goodness. NA romance at it's best.”  - Angie’s Dreamy Reads
"Sara Ney has delivered a sexy, jerkwad douchebag with soul-deep feelings and the sweet, kind, unassuming girl to reach his hidden heart in one of the best NA romantic comedies I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Ney's impeccable writing, fresh characters, and feel-good story will stick with you forever." - Bestselling Author Staci Hart
"I took so much pleasure in Zeke’s looming destruction (insert evil laugh)...." - The Reading Belles
The clock on the wall counts the seconds, steady as the rhythm of my beating heart, which thumps wildly within my chest until the glass door to the library opens, propelled by a gust of wind.

Some new fallen leaves flutter in, the heavy doors slamming from the draft.

Along with them? Zeke Daniels.

He shuffles in, dark gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, black Iowa Wrestling hoodie pulled up over his head, the university’s bright yellow mascot screen-printed across the chest. Backpack slung over one shoulder, black athletic flip-flops, and a pair of black sunglasses perched on the bridge of his strong nose complete the overall ensemble.
He is utterly…ridiculous. 

Unapproachable. 

Daunting.

His arrogance knows no bounds; I can see it in his loose gait, the exaggerated swagger, and the too-casual way he’s dragging his flip-flops across the cold, marble tile floor. It’s noisy, irritating, and completely uncalled for. 

In the moment, my mind drifts to his personal life, and I theorize that he listens to heavy metal music to sooth his foul temperament, drinks his coffee black—as black as his soul—and his liquor straight up. I imagine once he’s had sex with someone, they’re never invited back. I go one step further and theorize that they’re never invited to spend the night at his place, either.

Zeke Daniels makes his way to a table at the far end of the room, near the periodicals, one out of the way with plenty of privacy.

Sets his bag down in one of the four wooden chairs. Flicks on the small study lamp. Plugs his laptop cord into the base and stands. 

Turns.

Our eyes would have met then were it not for those ludicrous sunglasses. I choose the exact moment he lifts his gaze to look down at the ground. Busy myself with shuffling papers on the counter. Count to ten instead of chanting, Please don’t come over, please don’t come over, please don’t come over…

But luck isn’t on my side because he most decidedly does. 

Makes his way over like a predator at a pace so deliberate, I’m convinced he’s doing it on purpose. As if he suspects I’m watching from under my long lashes, dreading his imminent arrival.

He basks in my discomfort.

The distance between us closes, his strides purposeful.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Eight.

Three.

His large hand reaches up, pushing down the hood of his sweatshirt, his fingertips pinching the earpiece of his sunglasses and pulling them off his face. My eyes follow the movements as he folds them closed, hanging them on the neckline of his hoodie. 

His gaze lingers—those clear gray eyes famous around campus—and finds the shiny silver bellhop bell perched on the counter with the sign next to it that reads, Ring for help.

Ding. 

The tip of his forefinger presses down on the small bell.

Ding.

He hits it again, despite me standing not three feet in front of him.

What an ass.
 
Purveyor of all things witty & romantic, I love: iced latte's, traveling, and bright, bold colors. On any given day, you can find me in my office, lovingly gazing at my bookshelf or shuffling my Bic felt-tip pen collection. I love hand writing letters, and sarcasm. 

I live in the midwest, but "Will Write for Travel," and believe everyone should follow their dreams, no matter how big or small. My favorite authors include Cindy Miles, S Walden, Suzanne Enoch, Tessa Dare (to name a few). I am a glutton for Historical, RomCom, Sports and MC romance.

One husband. Two daughters. Plenty of chaos.

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