Sunday, September 30, 2018

Sadistic Sherlock New Release Blitz

Ten years ago, Dominic Walsh faked his own death. With no true identity, it wasn’t hard. But if he’d stayed, he would have been drawn further into a life he’d never chosen. He has friends and family at Ward Security now and has managed to escape his dark past. There is only one thing he truly wants.

Abraham Stephens.

When Dom was first tasked with watching over his friend’s father, he didn’t expect to fall so hard for the gorgeous silver fox. But Abe is interested in friendship only. He’s at a point in his life where he wants something permanent, not a romp with the sexy redhead who happens to be the same age as his son.

But Abe finds himself drawn deeper into Dom’s life when cryptic messages start appearing—ones that frighten the skilled security specialist. The more Dom tries to hide what’s happening, the more Abe wants to help him.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a way to trust the strength of the bond Dom understood from the start.

Dom insisted on helping him clean the kitchen, and it took all Abe’s concentration to not attack the guy. He wanted to lift him up on the counter and—

“That’s it,” Dom announced. “I can’t handle the way you keep looking at me.” He threw the dishtowel he’d been using and backed Abe into a wall this time. He braced both hands on either side of shoulders and stared hard at him. “We’re doing this at a slow pace. I mean it.”

“Stop being so fucking bossy and come here.” Abe grabbed him and yanked him in for another kiss that rocked his world. The man kissed like he wanted to devour Abe, like he could pull air from Abe’s lungs to survive on that alone. He had a naughty tongue normally—Abe never knew what was going to come out of his mouth—but it was also playful and so damn sensual when he slid it into Abe’s mouth. He wanted that tongue all over his body.

They kissed until his lips became sensitive, to where every rasp of Dom’s lips sent nerves tingling like he was being zapped with tiny bursts of electricity.

Dom pulled back and he kept going until his back hit the island. “Take off your shirt.”

Abe didn’t even hesitate. He was too far gone to worry about his forty-nine-year-old body at this point. If Dom didn’t like him as he was, if he didn’t want to do this again, then Abe would take this one shot to see him, to touch him, and he’d love it. He stepped back and pulled off his Henley and stood there, letting Dom look. “Yours too.”

“In a minute,” Dom breathed as he leaned back against the island and leisurely ran that hot gaze over Abe.

It took all his control to stand still, because he wanted to maul Dom. There wasn’t another word to describe what he wanted to do. Grab him, throw him against the wall or on the couch and just…take him apart. Feel all that searing skin against his. Rub his cock against that taut body…

Dom grinned in that oh-so-wicked fashion of his and crooked a finger. “Come here.”

But Abe had a better idea. He grabbed him and pressed him back into the wall. Dom didn’t wait for him to take the final step close before his hands were on Abe’s chest and his fingers were combing through his chest hair. He ran one palm down Abe’s belly, which didn’t have the bumps and ridges of muscle that Dom’s had. But he couldn’t discount the complete desire he saw in those green eyes and the very hard dick showing in his jeans.

Abe slowly reached out and ran one finger down that hard ridge, and the back of Dom’s head thunked on the wall. “If I come in my pants, no comments about the age thing. I’m thirty-two damn years old and you have me so hot, I’m about to be humiliated for life.”

“Oh yeah?” He popped the top button and unzipped Dom’s jeans. He didn’t push them down—just left them open. “Spiderman? Really?”

“I didn’t think you’d be seeing my boxers tonight, or I would have worn the Batman ones. They’re way hotter.” Dom smirked.

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My Review:
3.5 stars

This book showed a lot of promise for me, and it partially delivered on that promise. I won’t spoil the surprise, but suffice to say, Dom had a good reason to fake his death. As for Ward Security, I love all the characters tied to that company now, and am kind of regretting not starting with book one of the series.

While this book is fourth in the series, it works as a standalone. However, with all the characters and references to other books, it would have likely made more sense if I’d read the other books in the series first. Nevertheless, I was still able to enjoy the story. Plus, with all the hints dropped about the other books, now I want to read the other books to get the backgrounds and stories of the other characters.

My biggest complaint about this book though was the pacing. It took half the book to really start getting into the storyline in the blurb. While part of this was to build up suspense, introduce characters, etc., the build-up kept getting waylaid by unnecessarily long or pointless scenes, particularly the sex scenes. A good number of them didn’t fit into the story flow or seemed to be thrown in as an afterthought. I’d start getting into the mystery and suspense side, only to then detour to something totally different for 20 pages, only to then get thrown another suspenseful bone. The flow just didn’t work.

In addition, because of these pacing issues, the main resolution seemed a bit rushed in comparison to the other plot elements, which took away from the overall badass resolution (which was creative, vastly entertaining, and one of the best parts of the book). Side note, I have to say, the ending was one of my favorite parts and reminded me of an action/spy movie, which just made it even more fun to read.

Overall, while I wasn’t a fan of the pacing, I did like the story and especially the characters, who I would read the other books in the series for. So if you’re looking for a book with a great cast of characters, I would highly recommend giving this series a try, because there is quite a cast.

* I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.*

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About the Authors:
Who are Drake & Elliott?

Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott have teamed up to combine their evil genius to create intense gay romantic suspense stories that have car chases, shoot outs, explosions, scorching hot love scenes, and tender, tear-jerking moments. Their first joint books are in the Unbreakable Bonds series.

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Thursday, September 27, 2018

Crimson Review Tour

Delilah McDade has born the brunt of responsibility of her younger brother, Declan's wild lifestyle for years, until the night she learns it's come back to bite both of them in the form of vampire Ash Lockler. Delilah has a prim exterior but she dreams of hot vampires and other nocturnal creatures to give her a break from her life that, while satisfying, is lonely. Ash is tempting but she knows that she could never be a part of his life lived in the shadows. Ash Lockler lives his undead life as part of the seedy underworld with a stone cold heart. That doesn't stop him from helping damsel-in-distress, Delilah, but he's intent on keeping things all business and ending their association as soon as possible. The problem is that he can't seem to get his body - and heart - to agree with his reasoning when he and Delilah are thrown together in a deadly situation that may get her killed and cost him his freedom.

Excerpt One:
“Ash Lockler?” she said, looking up at him. She looked away from his intense gaze for a moment. Clearing her throat, she met his eyes again. Ash nodded and neatly folded his big frame into the booth, opposite her. He maintained his poker face as he rested his forearms on the table, hands folded. He held her gaze for a moment before he spoke quietly. “I trust you will provide what I expect.” He surveyed her pretty face framed by all that long, wildly curly, dark hair. She would do nicely. Her lips parted to speak, but she hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. He found her actions amusing, assuming this was her first time in dealing with someone like him. The underworld of vampires and other nocturnal beings was definitely not for this little, gentle mouse. She was beautiful but too timid and nervous for his taste.

He caught her staring before she lowered her gaze and reached for her small knit bag. “Yes. I have it right here. Five thousand cash. You can count it. That should settle my brother’s debt to you.”

Ash’s eyes narrowed in irritation. Declan McDade. The little weasel. Unfortunately for his family, he had grown up to be exactly like his father, Martin. They both shared an unhealthy fascination with underworld dealings. His next words were measured. “I’m afraid that five thousand doesn’t even come close to what your brother owes me. His debt is a lot closer to one hundred thousand.”

Her lips went slack, and she promptly snapped her mouth shut. Ash went on. “Your money, in short, is no good. A different sort of payment was arranged between myself and Declan.”

“What do you want, then? My house?” Delilah’s voice was strangely hoarse, and she took a hasty sip of water.

“No, your house is safe. I want your body on a long- term basis. Anywhere from six months to one year would work,” Ash replied simply.

My Review:
4 stars

This was a fun, action filled read, that I enjoyed. I liked the plot and the twists and turns along the way. It was a fascinating world, and the chemistry between Delilah and Ash was great. The only downside was I eventually grew tired of the naïve and self-sacrificing Delilah and the macho hero coming in to save the day, but once the story really got on the way, it was nice to see the characters grow and change from those stereotypes. Overall, this was a great vampire read that I highly recommend to anyone looking for a good paranormal romance.

*I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.*

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Author Bio and Links:
Tamela Miles is a California State University San Bernardino School Psychologist graduate student with a Bachelor of Science degree in Child Development and a former flight attendant. She grew up in Altadena, California in that tumultuous time known as the 1980s. She now resides with her family in the Inland Empire, CA. She's a horror/paranormal romance writer mainly because it feels so good having her characters do bad things and, later, pondering what makes them so bad and why they can never seem to change their wicked ways.

She enjoy emails from people who like her work. In fact, she loves emails. She can be contacted at or her Facebook page, Tamela Miles Books. She also welcomes reader reviews and enjoys the feedback from people who love to read as much as she does.

“Crimson”, a suspenseful and sexy paranormal romance long novella, is the result of a few years of daydreaming and hard work! Longtime fans are rejoicing at the love story of Ash and Delilah, who were first introduced in Ms. Miles’ horror/paranormal anthology, “Rock, Paper, Scissors”.  

"Cushion", a spooky and steamy paranormal romance long novella, is her latest release from The Wild Rose Press and has been warmly received!

She is the author of the popular paranormal romance thrillers, the Hell On Heels series from the Wild Rose Press.  For those who are already fans of the series (yippee!), please feel free to check out the author's soundtrack playlist for Hell On Heels on, listed as Hell On Heels: Songs from the Edge by Tamela Miles. 

Also, please check out the author’s soundtrack playlist for “Cushion.”

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Buy Links:
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Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Siege Weapons New Release Blitz

Captain Ales is a lonely smuggler at the galaxy’s Outer Verge, and the last of his people. He’s been trying to move on from a life of drugs and meaningless sex, but finding love in this forgotten corner of the galaxy is difficult.

When he’s sent on a mysterious smuggling mission to a world under siege, he’s enticed by promises of the domination he craves. But soon Ales finds himself entwined in a galactic power struggle that could cost him everything.

Siege Weapons
Harry F. Rey © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Alone at the space station bar, I checked the screen on my wrist-tech for the hundredth time. The smooth silvery material as thin and flexible as a flower petal contoured perfectly to my bumps and scars. The device came alive, but still no message from him.

He wasn’t late anymore; he wasn’t coming. I sighed and pushed away the plate of imported meat I’d picked through for the last three hours. I didn’t know why I’d even wasted the money on it. When I’d arrived at Baldomar, this crummy little flank-yard station orbiting a dead star, I’d been horny, not hungry. As the hours went by, my anticipation had turned to anxiety, then nervousness, and finally, a dejected state of knowing I’d been right all along. He never was going to come, and I was stuck footing the bill for an expensive dinner I didn’t want and a shitty room I wouldn’t sleep in. Plus, I was at least eight hours away from where I needed to be.

The bar curved around the station’s front edge, the long window displaying a view of a black starless nothing. It was busy, but I happened to be the only homosapien here. Finding someone else to keep me occupied in this array of tentacles and translucent eyeballs was out of the question. Call me a racist, but I was only into humans. Besides, I doubted there would be any humans at all out here, let alone male ones interested in me. This was heterosapien space. They didn’t like that term, but with hundreds of thousands of sentient, space-faring, nonhuman species in the galaxy, there was no way anyone could remember, let alone pronounce most of their native names. So since forever they’d been lumped together as heterosapiens, hetero meaning different, as opposed to us homosapiens.

The dark expanse of the Outer Verge was the most isolated and sparsely populated place in the galaxy. But to be sure, I checked my wrist again. No messages. Again, I conducted a pointless scan of who might be around. As the wrist-tech searched for any homosapien male who’d registered at least a passing interest in the same sex, alerts flashed and danced around the screen. The more annoying ones swerved around the screen to the back of my wrist before I could swipe them away.

Free ship repairs with a room booking on Rastel Station. I saved that; my own one-person transport ship was older than me and held together with little more than hope.

Mineral ore prices continue to plummet. That would hurt those bastards over at Galactic Shipping Co., my ex-employer.

Trades Council rules against Jansen in galinium mining dispute. Jansen was a planet at the edge of the Verge, beyond the slipstream, and a place I couldn’t even pretend to be interested in.

There are no users matching your requirements on this station.

Same as five minutes ago. I dragged my fingers across the screen and expanded the search.

There are no users matching your requirements in this system.

Shit; not one dick in the whole damn system. I sighed again, harder, waving my wrist at the infra-ceptor for another drink of something strong and orange that burned my throat. I turned on my stool away from the crowd of ever-rowdier heteros. I’d entertained their squealing for hours and was beyond sick of it.

“Eat enough of that stuff and you’ll lose your hot body, mister.”

I immediately recognized the fake, sickly sweet voice of an AI. Rent a bot for one night and they’ll follow you around forever.

“Heard that line before,” I said without even turning.

“Well, with an ass like that you can have anything you want. Feel like buying me a drink, mister?”

It slid itself across the bar to get right in my face, flexing fake muscles under a poly casing and fluttering cheap plastic eyelashes over its visual receptors. It disguised itself as a hot young blond guy, pecs poking through a black mesh shirt, thick legs encased in tight shorts showing off a butt big enough to dock a ship in. All this happened to be pretty much my type—well, my conventional type at least. The other things I liked could only be provided by a select few, with Ukko being the only one in the whole damn Outer Verge I knew of right now.

“It’ll fry your circuits. Now buzz off before I shove an EMP up your ass.”

Its elbow lifted off the bar with a faint electronic snap and it slinked away. The bot scanned the rest of the place, no doubt after some leaky data to go code itself into the next unsuspecting soul’s metallic fantasy. Although there’s fat chance with this crowd of heteros. I didn’t even want to imagine what sick sexual thoughts went through their minds.

With a beep, a new message displayed on my wrist. Finally.

Hey Ales, couldn’t make it, had to jump. Something came up, you know how it is. I should be on Targuline next week; maybe we can get a room there instead? See you. Ukko

I waved for another drink and slammed my fist on the bar. Why did I believe him? We’d met once, totally random, in a system I couldn’t remember. We’d fucked in his ship, a security patrol vessel. It’d been everything I’d fantasized about, and the best thing to happen to me in a long, long time. I could get what I needed in any pleasure palace in any major world or even a decent-sized station. But, like renting a bot, it only gave the illusion of gratification. Ukko had given me what I wanted, what I craved.

We’d met, chatted. He’d made me laugh, bought me a drink. His job made it more exciting, more dangerous. We’ve got to use your ship, not mine, I’d told him, as he might’ve arrested me if he’d seen what I had stored in my hold. Of course, I hadn’t been joking. Ukko worked in security, or what passed for it here in the Outer Verge; the loose band of a few hundred self-ruled systems occupying the spiral “arm” that juts out from the rest of the galaxy. We were too insignificant and too isolated to attract the machinations of galactic power. Out here, we operated under our own rules.

Prospering meant being the smartest, quickest, or strongest, and I was none of those. Across the vast distances of the Outer Verge, to venture beyond the atmosphere of your own world was to wrestle with smugglers, gangs, and astronomical phenomenon that wasn’t found in any training manual or weather forecast.

The danger also gave rise to opportunity; no tolls, no tariffs, no taxes. Only Ukko flying around collecting bribe money in between his busy schedule of fucking everyone who wasn’t me, apparently.

I downed my drink, not caring about its cost anymore. As soon as my boss got his tentacles on me, I’d be in major shit. Enough time and fuel had been wasted to end up nowhere near the last delivery or the depot, so there was no reason for me not to get drunk.

All because what seemed to me a solid promise wasn’t even a second thought to Ukko. I meant nothing to him. Was nothing to him. And the worst part was I couldn’t even blame him. It was my fault, trying to turn a sly encounter into a lasting relationship. I considered my response. Sending a snarky message or even showing him what he’d missed, but what would be the point? Stuck somewhere between unrequited and unfulfilled, Ukko was the story of my love life over and over again. Never fulfilling enough to gain any real satisfaction, but never unrequited enough to be able to let it go.

My scalp suddenly itched, probably from this cup of orange engine fuel, which on second thought maybe wasn’t fit for homo consumption. My fingers dug through thick black curls, cursing the fact I kept any hair at all. The thought of shaving it all off frightened me. Perhaps the fear that someone from my distant past wouldn’t recognize me if I did. I shook my head at how ridiculous that was, and I caught the itch. Finally came the soothing sensation of nail on skin.

Where was he, my rescuer? The one who would fight through life with me, make the pain of past dissipate to mere atoms.

Out of the din of unfamiliar languages came a shriek at the other end of the bar. Followed by the sound of a wet and heavy thing hitting the floor. I tried to ignore it. Normally I’d love to watch a good hetero fight. Or even join in. But I couldn’t enjoy the spectacle in this depressed state.

I cracked my neck, the closest thing to satisfaction I’d get now, and it shot through me like a syringe full of Kri. Maybe there would be some of the bright blue drug on the station. I brought my wrist halfway up, thinking about searching for a vial, and ordered another drink by accident from the infra-ceptor. On second thought, Kri on my own was no fun. Without an orgy to go to, all that nano-induced energy went to waste. The bar-bot refilled my glass, and I knocked back the extra drink. I tried to stand. Drunk again. This time, I pushed myself against the bar and made it all the way up.

Shit. Guess I’d be using the room after all.

I stumbled along to the exit, almost holding it together. It was so much easier to fly drunk than walk. I glanced over to check out the fight’s aftermath. A gaggle of blobby and tentacled heteros were huddled around whichever one had gotten injured. I couldn’t figure out if it had lost a vital appendage, but it seemed like they were trying to scoop a blob off the floor and reattach it. Seriously, what was the big deal with losing one glutinous blob if your entire body was literally glutinous blobs? I didn’t know if they were crying or laughing. Damn heterosapiens.

Something beeped, another message. In the hazy moment before my eyes adjusted, a spark twitched in my trousers. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t go to waste.

Ales – get your scrawny black ass back to the depot nows. I gots a jobs for you.

Javer still hadn’t learned plurals. My boss, the dumb-fuck tentacle dick. How did he even know my skin was black if his globby-ass species had sniffers for eyes? There were certain places his type couldn’t even set a blob in, let alone order around a homo. Us skin bags might dominate most of the galaxy, but out here was cold, hard equality. Part of me so wanted to hit back at Javer. I reminded myself I’d come to the Outer Verge to get far away from that sort of oppression, any sort of oppression. Plus, I wasn’t exactly captain of the week. The last job dropped my punctuality rating to less than 50 percent, well below the firing threshold.

The truth was I didn’t want to go back. I was done, beyond done. I couldn’t take another yelling from him, or another job basically smuggling contraband. Javer didn’t even pretend the planetary import licenses had anything to do with the cargo anymore. He didn’t care about the moments of terror I faced while bribing or blagging my way through another delivery. The free-trading worlds of the Verge were his opportunity to sell anything and everything that would bring a profit.

A sudden stab of pain hit my lower back, the muscle memory of my last delivery gone wrong; twenty-four hours chained to a wall in a customs prison on Kerjan. All for what? Another planet; another lonely bar, another fruitless search for satisfaction at the lost edge of sentience. Another message.

Get backs nows.

The elevator took me to the right corridor, and my hands ran along either side of the fluorescent-lit wall, steadying myself while avoiding condensation drips from the ceiling. I tried to figure out how long I might reasonably expect to live if I ever decided to fuck it and run.

The room had a chill, the kind you only get in deep space. I stumbled, still couldn’t figure out how to get the lights on. Ukko wouldn’t have been impressed anyway. Probably a good thing he’d never showed after all. The promise of sex was usually better than the real thing, I’d come to learn. I pushed off my boots and, seconds before collapsing, carried out my nightly ritual.

“I believe in the continuity of existence, in the eternity of our people. That the glory of our past will never be forgotten and the greatness of our future will always be remembered. Oh victorious one, conqueror of the universe, restore us, your faithful army. Oh merciful one, mother of all, deliver us from exile. May your people grow strong and numerous, as in the days before. May we sweep across the stars, and may tomorrow herald the coming of your dominion over all worlds.”

I fell onto the bed, my mind full with the heavy despair of many years and the memory of many deaths, and I was the only one left alive in the galaxy who knew these words.

Purchase Links
NineStar Press  |  Amazon  |  Smashwords  |  B & N  |  Kobo

My Review:
3.5 stars

I’ll admit, I’m still not quite sure what to think about this book. Mixed feelings is the best way to describe how I felt about most of this book. Let me just say, I feel like this book is a commentary on perception vs. reality, as I spent most of this book questioning everything and everyone in it.

Take the main character for example. I alternated between disliking Ales to loving him. He’d start by coming across as a one-dimensional asshole and then we’d see a glimpse of his past or he’d show his heroic side, and I’d love him. This happened throughout the book, though the more I learned about him, the more I understood why he was acting the way he did, which just made me care even more. Though just when I felt like I’d gotten to know Ales…there was a bit of a surprise kick in the epilogue that left me questioning what I thought I knew about him. Though I kind of liked the potential side of his character being revealed and where it could go from there…

We didn’t get to spend much time with the other characters, and what time we did spend seemed to introduce differing ideas on who these characters actually were. Take Turo for example. What he was first portrayed as versus how I saw him at the end of the book…very different.

As for the plot, it was varied, alternating between fast-paced action and slower inner reflection/character building, with twists and turns I never saw coming, which kept the story thrilling. Unfortunately, at times this left me trying to figure out what the heck just happened or what this meant. A few times I even had to re-read parts to try and figure out how the heck we got to there because it felt so out of left field.

Part of this I think is due to the fact that details about this world were woven into the action, rather than having a world-setting scene near the beginning of the book. Stuff was thrown at you from beginning to end, which felt a bit rushed and less thought out, as it seemed like “oh yeah, here’s something crucial about this world you didn’t know until now 90% into the book, we need to fix this plot hole.” On the other hand, I also liked this approach because the way things were explained really helped show Ales’ character and kept the story moving.

While I had mixed feelings about the execution of this book, I enjoyed it and am super excited for a sequel, especially with the potential future storylines introduced at the end. I highly recommend giving this book a try if you’re into more unconventional stories or sci-fi. The writing/storytelling style won’t be for everyone, but it’s worth a try for the adventure lying in wait.

*I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.*

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About the Author:
Harry F. Rey is an author and lover of gay themed stories with a powerful punch with influences ranging from Alan Hollinghurst to Isaac Asimov to George R.R. Martin. He loves all things sci-fi and supernatural, and always with a gay twist. Harry is originally from the UK but lives in Jerusalem, Israel with his husband.

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Liar Liar Book Blast

Nicole Graves finds herself in the crosshairs when she reluctantly agrees to babysit a witness in a high-profile rape trial. Mary Ellen Barnes is suing her university’s star quarterback for rape when the authorities won’t act. In the court of public opinion, Mary Ellen appears to be the quintessential, pious, good girl. But her lies and mysterious comings and goings lead Nicole to suspect that she’s not what she seems.

Later, Nicole would ponder the truth and its illusive nature. She’d realize how many lies people would tell to protect themselves from it. And, worst of all, how many she herself would tell to get at it. She’d always considered herself a truthful person. Yet she’d find herself lying to others, to her fiancé, and even to herself.

She’d wonder if there was such a thing as the actual truth. Or was truth relative, the product of incomplete or faulty memories, or the limitations of the observer? How often was the truth tainted by what an individual wanted, or needed, to believe?

On this bright day in mid-March, Nicole stepped into the United Terminal at LAX and encountered a situation she could hardly believe. It was as if she’d slipped back in time to the previous year when the media was stalking her. This morning, they were massed in a corner of baggage claim. After the initial shock of seeing them, she noticed they weren’t looking in her direction, hadn’t noticed her at all. They were waiting for someone else, someone they expected to come down the escalator from the arrival gates.

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About the Author:
Nancy Boyarsky is the bestselling author of the award-winning Nicole Graves Mysteries. Before turning to mysteries, Nancy coauthored Backroom Politics, a New York Times notable book, with her husband, Bill Boyarsky. She has written several textbooks on the justice system as well as articles for publications including the Los Angeles Times, Forbes, and McCall’s. She also contributed to political anthologies, including In the Running, about women’s political campaigns. In addition to her writing career, she was communications director for political affairs for ARCO.

Liar Liar is the third Nicole Graves novel, following The Swap and The Bequest, each of which can be read as a stand alone. Readers are invited to connect with Nancy through her website.

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Saturday, September 22, 2018

Concierge Service New Release Blitz

Joshua Hannes, the concierge of the Vivaldi Central Park Hotel prides himself on fulfilling every impossible request. Tickets to a sold-out show? A purple dye job for a purse dog? A last-minute table at a premier hotspot? No problem.

But the devastatingly handsome penthouse guest wants what?

Self-made billionaire Craig Ridley’s in New York on business, but at the end of the day, he wants to relax with someone interesting. The concierge should be able to supply a friendly face. Just for a little conversation. Dinner and a card game. Not sex with a man he doesn’t know or respect.

Craig didn’t expect the concierge to personally volunteer. Nor to be the man Craig hadn’t known he needed.

A billion reasons why they shouldn’t be together. A billion and one reasons why they should.

A smoldering standalone romance with an HEA.

Fed, but caught in the weird limbo of exhausted and wired, Craig paced around his lush temporary domain. Another exploration of the secondary bedroom brought out a detail he’d missed before.

He picked up the towel elephant, trying to figure out how it was put together without unrolling it. Nice. Craig had only asked for one, out of the sheer whimsy of being able to make such a nonsensical request and having it fulfilled. The guy who’d rolled and tucked this little critter into existence had not only left one on the master bed, but had gone the extra mile to leave one in here, too. Thorough.

Craig admired that in a man.

The man himself was easy on the eye, tall and lean, with a shock of brunet hair that would look wonderful tousled, even better than neatly combed.

Which was a thought for the spank bank, and not going to do him a lick of good now.

The spank bank hardly ever had deposits.

Did jet lag do bad things to the brain? Here he was, indulging in a fantasy of a stranger about whom he knew nothing more than the man was thorough. Maybe he couldn’t make conversation past the latest celebrity gossip. Or he could have a partner. Maybe the long drought since the last truly interesting man had crossed Craig’s path was making his imagination work overtime.

Whatever, it wasn’t like he’d have the opportunity to find out, which at least attached to the privilege of skipping the argument over attraction. He’d been called “unbefuckinglievably picky” a few too many times by men he’d found unbefuckinglievably ready to drop trou without knowing one damn thing about him, let alone liking or respecting anything beyond his face and his bank account. Skip that whole mess and the concierge could remain a pleasant thought.

He flicked through four movies, hating each one within a scene or two. He could go out, but that involved shoes. He could play the Steinway, but three rousing renditions of Chopsticks exhausted his repertory.

Anyone he wanted to talk to was two time zones away, probably putting the kids to bed or catching up on the cuddles they’d missed while they were scrambling to get this IPO put together.

Craig hadn’t missed any cuddles, or he’d missed all the cuddles from a someone who wasn’t part of his life. He needed to meet somebody, like that was possible.

This particular bit of craziness would be over in a week, but the nuttiness that came from running the company and doing the social things that went with running the company weren’t going away. Try finding someone who understood that. A fuck buddy didn’t get to question it, but Craig doubted he could even get it up for any man he had so little regard for. He could scratch his own damn itches, but if he started talking to himself…

Maybe that was the answer—unwind with one of the toys he’d dragged along from Denver this morning. He unpacked his suitcase, eyeing the bottle of lube. Did hotel guests ever ask the concierge to fetch another bottle, or more toys? Not a request Craig could see himself making.

No, he didn’t want to give himself a solitary hand job—he wanted to talk to someone. See a friendly face. Someone who wouldn’t accidentally turn the conversation back to equity and shares and total float and lockout time, and how much more would they be worth when… Someone not associated with work. Or his usual life.

He eyed the sleek black house phone on the bedside table.

Naw. Too ridiculous. Too late.

Twenty-four/seven concierge service, whispered the memory of the redheaded twink at Reception. And the concierge on the phone: If you want it, I can get it for you.

Oh, hell. The worst they could say was no.

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About the Author:
P.D. Singer lives in Colorado with her slightly bemused husband, one tall young man, half a case of empty nest syndrome, and thirteen pounds of cats. She’s a big believer in research, first-hand if possible, so the reader can be quite certain Pam has skied down a mountain face-first, been stepped on by rodeo horses, acquired a potato burn or two, and will never, ever, write a novel that includes sky-diving.

When not writing, playing her fiddle, or skiing, she can be found with a book in hand. Follow the adventures at Pam's website, her Facebook page, Twitter, or drop her an e-mail.

Friday, September 21, 2018

Priscilla Book Blast

After losing her father and husband in a mine disaster, Priscilla Heartsel faces poverty and eviction from her home by a heartless mine owner. Tricked into a bank robbery gone wrong, Braxton Gamble finds himself shot and unconscious in Priscilla's bed. Can they survive long enough to find a love more precious than gold?

She loosened her grip on the cookie and it landed in her lap. "You're planning to get married? Yet you were kissing me in front of everyone only moments ago?"

"Only because you're who I plan to marry." He grinned.

She retrieved her cookie, left it on the table and returned the plate to the pantry.

"Hey," he said, "I wasn't through with those."

"Too bad." Hands firmly planted on her hips, she glared at him. "I have no intention of remarrying, and if I did, what makes you think it would be to you?"

Braxton got to his feet. "I'm crazy about you, Pris, and I think you care for me too."

"Well, you're wrong. Get out."

Moving around the table toward her, he said, "Okay, Pris. Don't get your dander up."

Relieved that he was going to leave quietly, she relaxed, but as soon as she did, he reached out and hauled her into his arms. Before she could voice a complaint, he kissed her. Again. She tensed and tried to break free.

Oh, but it felt so good. While cursing herself for not fighting harder, she kissed him back. A tingling began below her abdomen and she felt flushed and hungry for something she couldn't name, except that she wanted more of what Braxton offered. Her hands slipped behind his head and she pressed closer, noticing he was ready for her.

"Lord, but I could go on kissing you forever," he murmured.

"Shut up and just do it," she whispered back.

She felt him smile against her lips, but not for long. He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened to him, then slipped it inside. He tasted like oatmeal and coffee. Sweet, heady, and strong.

He pressed his aroused body closer to her, and she couldn't help wriggling. Her heart pounded, her blood on fire.

The next thing she knew, he'd picked her up and was heading for the stairs. Priscilla knew what he planned and opened her mouth to object.

A knock came on the door. "Braxton, are you in there?" Etta hollered. "Irish and Logan have been sighted riding toward the Lucky Lady. You coming with me?"

"Aw, hell," he muttered, letting Priscilla's feet touch the floor. "I gotta go. I'm sorry, Pris, darlin'."

"It doesn't matter. What we were doing was insane anyway."

He glowered at her. "You still going to claim you don't want me?"

"I don't want to marry."

"That's fine with me. We'll just live together."

"Ha! Get out of here."

"I'm going." He stalked to the door and slammed it behind him.

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About the Author: 
Charlene Raddon’s first serious attempt at writing fiction came in 1980 when a vivid dream drove her to drag out a typewriter and begin writing. Because of her love of romance novels and the Wild West, her primary genre is historical romance. Kensington Books originally published five of her novels. These were later released as eBooks by Tirgearr Publishing. Currently, Charlene is an Indie author. She also designs book covers, specializing in western historical.

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