Monthly Archives: April 2015

Review: The Good Girls by Teresa Mummert

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My life was meticulously planned and I refused to deviate from that path. While my peers were partying, I prepared for the future. Then a tragic event destroyed everything and I learned that while I was looking ahead, I forgot to live in the moment.
Starting over seemed impossible until I met Cara McCarthy, who lived every day like it was her last. She opened my eyes to a world of chaos and disorder. I loved every minute of it. She was also dating Tristan Adams, one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen.
The three of us became inseparable. Our parents were oblivious and soon lines became blurred, feelings began to grow, and someone’s heart was going to get broken. I hoped it wasn’t mine.

 

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Review:

5 Fan-freaking-tastic STARS!!!!!

I will admit I was a little unsure when I sat down to start this book. Though I love M/M books I have only ever read one other F/F book and lets just say it didn’t go over well. Eek! Knowing this was written by Teresa Mummert made the decision to read pretty easy. I love all of her books and refused to let one bad book on the subject make me miss out on her book. The Good Girls was more than I expected. Which truthfully, I should have known it would blow my away, right? I mean it’s freaking Teresa Mummert and what book of hers doesn’t rock?

There were tons of different emotions that play throughout this book. I had moments of sadness, anger, laughter, love, and happiness. I had tears from laughing and then tears from the events that played out. It was amazing. I loved Eli and Cara. I felt for both of them throughout the book. They were both sweet and fun. Cara was a bit closed off, but I feel like Eli saw through it at times just like Cara saw through Eli’s lies.

Though I truly loved both Eli and Cara, I feel like Brody stole the book. I absolutely love that dude. Everything about him had me swooning and during some parts prayed that Eli ended up with him. I would love to see a book about Brody so that sweet man can get his HEA. He absolutely deserves it.

Let me point out again that this is a F/F book. If that is not something you are into I suggest you give it a shot anyway. This book has a powerful message to it. It’s a beautifully raw love story. One that I think everyone should read. There are some heartbreaking things that happen in this story so make sure to have some tissue close by.

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The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series (Books 7-9) by Vivian Winslow

This is the third part to The Gilded Flower Series.

My reviews for The Gilded Flower Trilogy (The Gilded Flower Series Books 1-3)

Gilded Lily – ReviewAmazon

Calla Lily – ReviewAmazon

Tiger Lily – ReviewAmazon

My reviews for The Dahlia Trilogy (The Gilded Flower Series)

3 in 1 Review

Amazon – Blue DahliaBlack DahliaRed Dahlia

**Check out Vivian Winslow’s Author Interview HERE! **

The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series (Books 7-9)

Wild Violet

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Wild Violet is the first installment of The Vi Trilogy of the Gilded Flower Series. Appearing in The Lily and Dahlia Trilogies of the Gilded Flower Series, Violet Rai, or Vi, is Lily and Dahlia Baron’s sharp-witted BFF, who is always up for a party and a hot guy. But, in The Dahlia Trilogy, there are hints that Vi’s world is quickly coming apart, and her dark secret is about to be exposed.

In this flashback story, Vi, the strikingly beautiful daughter of an Indian business magnate and English supermodel, is enjoying a privileged lifestyle in New York City while a college student at NYU. Yet, in her senior year, Vi learns that her strict and traditional father intends to force upon her an arranged marriage and a career working for his conglomerate in Dubai. When Vi is paired with sexy Spaniard, Andrés Costas, in her ballet class, not only does she find herself falling for him, but he introduces her to a shockingly different world—one that offers her the prospect of escaping her father’s plans, but at a price.

Review:

5 STARS!!

OMG! I was so excited to get this first book, but forced myself to wait until I had all 3 books so I could continuously read through without having to die waiting. I’m glad I did. I didn’t know what to expect coming into this first book. I knew Vi was up to something. It was hinted at through the other 6 books. I couldn’t wait to find out what it was. It wasn’t what I thought it was but it was still surprising. Vi’s story with her father. I felt so bad for her to have to deal with him. But then there was Andres. OMFG! Can we say sexy. I couldn’t get enough of him but the ending left me a bit sad. I wasn’t sure what to expect next. I want Vi to have her HEA. Though this is not the one I expected, after getting to know him I would be OK with it. 🙂

 

Hidden Violet

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With her hidden past about to be exposed, Vi turns to her longtime friend and confidant, Thomas Squires, for help. Yet, they may just risk exposing their feelings for each other in the process. When Lily’s engagement to Alejandro is threatened by ex-lover Gustavo, Vi is forced to come clean with her best friend and possibly destroy the lives of those she loves. Now that her secrets are no longer hidden, Vi faces the most difficult challenge yet—how to build a new life for herself outside of the shadows.

Review:

5 STARS!!

Thomas oh Thomas. You get to know Thomas during Dahlia’s trilogy. Though he is a tough one at first to fall in love with you soon do. Of course after he acts like an ass. Thomas truly loves Vi. He’s loved her for a long time but never made a move. We get a bit more into their relationship with Hidden Violet. We also get some more of Andres too. I’m a little lost on who I want Vi to end up with. I love them both and can’t pick between them. The private moment between Vi and Thomas not only for real but during her imagination … WOW! That was hot and it was about time. We also get more of Lily and Dahlia. There of course is some drama which I wont go into details but it was crazy. By the end of Hidden Violet I didn’t know what to think and had no freaking clue where Vivian Winslow was going with this story. Have to head to the next one so I can find out. Eeek!!!

True Violet

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In this final installment of The Gilded Flower Series, shocking secrets are revealed and the long-buried truth comes out.

Things are heating up for Vi in Dubai, and it’s not just the desert climate. Vi is starting to come into her own—having the hottest sex of her life and poised to take over her father’s multinational conglomerate. Yet, her suspicions are confirmed when she uncovers a plot to destroy not just her but her best friends’ lives. With an unlikely ally, Vi seeks to ruin those behind the plot. Will Vi be able to have it all and find her lasting happiness in the arms of the man she loves?

Review:

5 STARS!!

Finally the last one. I really hate to see this series end. I love these 3 girls.. Oh and all the men. 😉 True Violet was a complete shocker. I mean really, how could you do this to me Vivian Winslow? I liked Samir but we are talking about Thomas and Andres.. Why oh why?! Everything that played out in this last installment was crazy. I didn’t see any of this coming. All shockers. Well played … well played.. I’m sitting here having a hard time getting my thoughts together. I’m happy for Lily and Dahlia. These girls deserve all the happiness they can get. I can’t even put down what I really want to say about Vi and a certain someone because it will give everything away. Ugh.

This series is a must read. Every book is different and definitely worth the read. Each girl with their different personalities and different lives. You can’t go wrong.

About Vivian Winslow

Vivian Winslow was born and raised in Southern California. Before becoming a writer, she made a career out of moving around the world every couple of years thanks to her husband’s job. She currently lives in New York City with her husband and two elementary school age children, and is grateful to finally have a place to call home for more than two years. New York is the perfect city to indulge her love of shopping, the arts and especially food. If she’s not at home writing or running around the city with her kids, you’ll most likely find her indulging in pizza on the Lower East Side or having a cocktail at her favorite bar in Alphabet City. That said, she’s still a California girl at heart and would gladly trade in her heels for a pair of flip-flops to catch a sunset on the beach.

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Release Day: The Voyeur Next Door by Airicka Phoenix

Title: The Voyeur Next Door
Author: Airicka Phoenix    
Genre: NA Contemporary Erotic
*Warnings: Strong sexual content & language. (18+ Only)*
Release Date: April 27, 2015

Blurb:

He lived next door.Alison Eckrich was an expert at being invisible. Having been raised by a mother who saw only flaws, she had learned long ago to watch and never participate. Until him. He was gorgeous from what little she could make out through his bathroom window and he awakened things inside her she had always been told was wrong. But she didn’t care.

She was addicted.

Gabriel Madoc was no stranger to the cold sting of betrayal. His broken heart had left him hard and bitter and that was how he liked it. Until her. She was a vision in the soft twilight. Everything about her called to him. It didn’t even matter he couldn’t see her face.

He wanted her.

The rules were simple: No names. No faces. No attachments. They both had what the other needed so long as they never broke the rules. But what will happen when the mystery is unveiled and they both come face to face with the truth and each other? Is what they shared in the cloak of darkness enough to keep them together, or will reality tear them apart?

FB Release Party: https://www.facebook.com/events/808116989263187/




Chapter One

Ali
“God, baby, I need you inside me so bad…” My husky moan fogged the glass, obscuring my view of the deep fried and smothered in chocolate goodness just one creepy glass lick away from being all mine. “But I can’t let you control my life anymore.”
The pimply faced adolescent on the other side of the counter fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly disturbed by my affections, and possibly the drool marks I was leaving on his pristine display case.
“Ma’am?”
Giving the pastry one final glance of longing, I turned to him. “Just tea. Decaf because I apparently hate myself.”
Still looking nervous—maybe he was afraid I would start making out with the register next—he punched in my order, muttered off my total and then scurried off to grab me a pretty white cup and fill it with hot water. I set my money down and waited, all the while casting furtive peeks at the Boston cream pastry eyeing me back with a seductive, chocolaty glaze that all but whispered all the ways it could make me feel muy mucho goodo because that was how all my dirty fantasies started—with my food sounding like Antonio Banderas.
My water and teabag were set on the counter and nudged towards me the way lions were fed at the zoo—with a long stick poking their meals in under a steel cage door. Only the stick was his finger and the counter was the only thing keeping him safe from my all out crazy. My money was swept into a sweaty palm and tossed carelessly into the register. The drawer was slammed shut. Then there was nothing left for me to do but leave. Yet my weakness took that moment to nearly win; I started to open my mouth to order the pastry anyway, to portray that fuck it attitude I only pretended I possessed. But who was I kidding? It would never be just the one and my ass could do without the extra pounds.
Dejected, I took my disgusting drink and shuffled off to find a table somewhere within the air conditioned heaven. No one wanted to sit outside when it was hot enough to fry bacon. But most of the tables in the small café were full by drone-eyed squatters slumped over their laptops and cappuccinos.
Bastards.
Moving quickly down the line leading all the way to the door, I bee-lined for the only available table out on the shaded patio. My scalding water sloshed in the cup, but stayed stubbornly within the confines of the ceramic.
The moment I shouldered open the doors, I knew I’d made a mistake getting tea; it was just too damn hot.
I glanced back over my shoulder at the line. Nope. No way was I standing in that death trap a second time, not even for a Frappuccino with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, which was what I had originally gone in to get, except the beautifully athletic woman ahead of me had ordered a soy, low fat, no foam, something-something-something latte and the guilt had been too much. When the boy had fixed me with those judgy little eyes, I had balked and let myself be swayed by peer pressure and shame.
Resigned, I went to the table and sat. I stuffed my purse into the seat next to me and wondered how to drink my tea without sweating to death. I started by dropping my teabag into the water and watching as dark tendrils escaped and tainted the clear liquid. I adjusted my glasses as they began to slide down my sweaty nose and squinted at all the blinding brightness around me.
The café sat in the middle of a semi busy street catering mostly to restaurants and coffee shops and the occasional art studio. I wasn’t normally a coffee drinker and art made no sense to me, but I liked people. More importantly, I liked watching them … secretly … from a very great distance so as not to have to interact. People fascinated me. The things they did half the time made me question just how much chemicals and hormones really went into our food. But the problem with the artsy part of town was that it was very shiny. Everything gleamed. There were lights everywhere and everyone was dressed in bold, flashy colors that hurt the brain.
Me, in my long black skirt and baggy blouse melded with the décor. I could never pull off bold and sexy. Hell, I couldn’t even pull off one of those. Most days, my face would be lucky to see makeup, just because it was time taken away from something less pointless. No guy that didn’t require coke bottle glasses would ever look in my direction twice. Everything about me was all the things most men never noticed in a woman, unless they were into lobotomizing their dates. I just didn’t have the right looks to get men excited. It was a fact I had come to accept. Me and my lowly little decaf cup of tea.
“Rats!”
The exclamation was followed by the ripping sound of paper and the thud of things striking pavement. I twisted around in my seat just as an elderly man dropped down next to his torn bag of groceries. Pedestrians flocked around him, parting like the Red Sea to avoid stepping on him, or his things. But no one stopped to give him a hand as he scrambled to scoop items off the ground.
Abandoning my untouched drink, I hurried from my seat and dropped down next to him. My hands closed around a bag of apples, a tray of fresh chicken breasts and several cans of corn. I hugged them to my chest as he dumped his armload into the torn paper bag.
“Here,” I said, pulling the bag to me and emptying my things inside as well.
There was a stalk of celery and a carton of eggs that had upended on the sidewalk. I managed to salvage the celery. But the eggs had already begun to sizzle against the concrete.
“I think your eggs are toast,” I told him, stuffing the celery into the bag. “Or fried eggs, I guess.”
The man sighed. “Figures. That’s what I get for getting them free range eggs for about ten dollars more.”
It was a struggle not to laugh at the disgruntled huff.
“I think I have a plastic bag in my purse,” I said instead. “We might be able to fit all of this into it.”
Taking the bag from him, I walked back to my table and dragged my purse over. I opened the first pocket and rummaged inside.
The man shuffled up beside me and whistled. “Now, I’ve seen some crazy purses women carry around, but that right there is a doozy.”
My purse really was unique. When I first found it, it had only had the one big pocket and the one tiny pocket sewn into the inside. By the time I finished with it, it had about twenty pockets in various shapes and sizes and they all carried something. I had everything from a tiny sewing kit, to a paperback novel nestled inside. There were packets of tissue, gum, a small set of screw drivers, several zip ties, different sizes of Ziploc bags. and even a flashlight. I had everything a person could possibly need for just about any occasion. Because of all that, the bag was actually kind of heavy, which came in handy if I ever had to hit someone, which hadn’t happened yet, but I was hopeful.
“I like being prepared,” I told him. “Here we go!” Shaking out the plastic bag, I slid the paper one into it and held it out to the man. “There you are.”
The man squinted at me with one brown eye. The other one was screwed shut against the sun and he had to cup a gnarled hand over his brows to see me properly.
He had to be in his late seventies with big, child-like eyes and a kind face that immediately made a person like him. What little hair he had was combed over the wide bald patch on his head and looked as fine as a baby’s. His frail body was tucked into a pair of beige trousers and a checkered top that was buttoned all the way to his throat.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Still holding the bag, I smiled. “Alison Eckrich.” I held out my free hand. “Everyone calls me Ali.”
He took it in a surprisingly firm handshake. “Earl Madoc.” He let my hand go and squinted some more. “Listen, Ali, you wouldn’t mind helping an old man get his groceries home, would you? My arthritis is just killing me today.” He rubbed his contorted hand, working the stiff muscles with a grimace deepening his wrinkles. “I live about a block down that way. I would pay you for your troubles.”
I waved away the offer. I was done with the whole fresh air thing and would have probably gone home anyway. Walking him would have been no skin off my nose, especially since he was walking in the same general direction.
I grabbed my purse, threw the strap around my shoulders, and took up his bag of groceries once more.
“Lead the way, Earl.”
Offering me a kind smile, he started forward at a shuffle-limp, like his right leg had been injured at some point and hadn’t recovered properly. I wasn’t sure if that was the case, or if it was just age, but I wondered why he didn’t walk with a cane if it hurt him as much as it seemed to. I didn’t ask. I figured whatever the reason was, it was his business.
We walked in silence for several steps and stopped at the lights.
“So what do you do, Ali Eckrich?” Earl asked as the lights changed and we started across.
“I am currently between jobs,” I replied around a tight curl of my lips. “I just moved here, so actually I’m kind of still looking.”
“No kidding.” He scratched his jaw dusted with a fine layer of white bristle. The sound reminded me of sandpaper. “Where did you move from?”
“Portland, Oregon,” I answered.
Earl’s eyes went wide. “An American!”
I laughed. “No, I was only there for school. I’m originally from Alberta.”
“What did you study?”
I pulled in a breath that smelled of fried hotdogs from the cart we passed and asphalt from the construction crew working on the roads a street down.
“I have my bachelor’s degree in business administration.”
Earl whistled through his teeth. “That’s fancy.”
“Four years,” I confessed.
“And they didn’t teach that here at the schools in Canada?”
I laughed at that. It was the same comment I got from my sister when I initially got accepted to the University of Portland. But at least she had known the real reason behind my need to get as far away from home as possible. Earl didn’t need to and I didn’t need to tell him.
“It was a growing experience,” I said, using my fall back response to most things.
“So you’re good with the books and things of a business.”
I shrugged. “Yes, and marketing and finances.”
“Interesting.” He scratched his jaw again. “Do you know anything about filing?”
“Filing?”
“Organizing,” he corrected.
I had to shrug at that. “I guess. Depends on what it is.”
We turned a corner and started down Pine Street. For a split second, I almost stopped, thinking I was inadvertently leading the poor guy back to my house. But Earl kept shuffling onward and I hurried to keep up.
“I just moved to this street,” I said. “My apartment is further down.”
“Yeah? My grandson did, too,” Earl said.
I started to ask where, when Earl veered left, hobbling his way towards a large, badly painted building that was impregnating the whole street with a powerful stench of motor grease, metal, and sweat. The rusty sign bolted over the trio of wide garage doors spelled, Madoc Auto Body Repair. The bay doors were all open to the bright afternoon. Two were empty. The middle one had a car hoisted on a lift. A man in a blue jumpsuit stood in the trench underneath with a handheld work light.
“It’s all right,” Earl called out to me when he realized I wasn’t following him. “This here has been in the family for near four generations.”
Curiosity perked, I knuckled my glasses back up the bridge of my nose and shuffled after him. Up close, the smell did not improve.
The man beneath the Pontiac banged on the underside of the car with a wrench; the sound swallowed the hum of jazz spilling from the boom box perched on the red toolbox next to the car. I watched him even as I followed Earl up a set of stairs built into the side of the garage, leading into what appeared to be an office cut out of gray stone slabs. It was impossible to tell what was hidden beneath the towers of paper that were layered over every available flat surface. There was another set of doors straight across, painted a harsh yellow that led to what looked like stairs going up. Earl stopped at the bottom, gripping the railing bolted into the side and leaned against the wall, his face flushed.
“The kitchen is straight up,” he panted slightly. “I’d show you, but that heat just about did me in and I can’t trust myself on them stairs right now.”
Concerned by the sheen of sweat glistening across his brow, I tossed a frantic glance over the room. I caught sight of a swiveling chair poking out from beneath the papers and hurried over to it. The wheels grated against the concrete as I shoved it to where Earl half slumped against the wall.
“Here.” I guided him into it. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some water?”
Earl smiled at me. “You are such a sweet little thing.”
“Will you be okay if I run up?”
He waved me away as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Not wanting to leave him alone for longer than I had to, I hurried up the stairs, grocery bag in tow. At the top, I paused as the loft-style space came into view. The layout was straightforward with a bedroom set in one corner beneath a grand, bay window. At the foot of it, was a sitting area equipped with a leather sofa, recliner and TV. Across from that was a kitchenette and a bathroom on my right. I moved towards the kitchen. I ran the tap and occupied myself by shoving the groceries into the fridge while I waited for the water to get cold.
“Who are you?”
The pack of chicken breasts slipped out of my hands with my undignified squeak of fright and hit the top of my sandaled foot. I whirled around to confront the sudden explosion of words from behind me. The booming voice was male, but it was the volume of it, the sheer weight behind the sound that prickled the skin along my spine. My hand trembled as I fidgeted with my glasses, shoving them back into place so the dark, blurry shadow looming mere feet away could come into focus.
I wasn’t blind. I could see most things without my glasses. They just weren’t very clear. Everything had a fuzzy hue around the edges. Kind of like a smudged pastel painting, exaggerating the shapes and size of people.
This guy was not exaggerated.
No less than seven feet with a frame that was clearly stolen from some lumberjack catalogue, he stood blocking my escape. I mean, I could have maybe done some crazy ninja lunge over the counter, but that probably wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I stood there, slack-jawed, staring at the mountain man glowering back at me with a suspicion one would normally reserve for diamond thieves and those bitches who steal all the bikes at the gym just to sit and talk to each other.
He wore flannel, which only made my lumberjack theory all the more plausible. It was undone over a white t-shirt and form fitting jeans that hugged his lean legs the way I kind of wanted to. The hems fell over battered and really ugly boots that needed an incinerator to put them out of their misery and were frayed around the cuffs. His chest strained beneath the thin material with every breath and my gaze was drawn to the hard squares cut of his breast plates and along the wide lengths of his shoulders. The sleeves on the flannel were rolled up his toned forearms and barely concealed the raw muscles underneath.
Definitely a lumberjack.
Shit the man was hot. Screw Boston cream pastries. I’ll take two of him.
“Hello?”
Blinking, my eyes shot up to the head attached to that delicious body and my steamy fantasy bubble popped.
Thick, black hair covered his jaw and mouth in a beard. His hair was the same shade of ebony and hung uncut around his ears and over the collar of his flannel. From amongst all that hair, I could just make out piercing, intense gray eyes.
“Really?” I blurted in clear disappointment, my brain and mouth having lost communication at some point.
It was his turn to blink in surprise. He leaned over and snapped the faucet off with a smack of his palm.
“What?”
There was no helping it. My whole day was officially ruined and it was his fault.
Okay, I had no problem with men with facial hair. Sometimes, it was even hot. But not when it looked like he was going for a yearlong expedition through the Himalayan Mountains, or planned to live with bears out in the wilderness. There was a reason trimmers and razors were invented. And … Goddamn it! The dude was too hot for that shit.
“Are you lost?” he demanded when I could only stand there and silently judge him.
“I don’t know! Maybe you could loan me a compass!” I shot back. “Or a hatchet.” So I was just being crazy and I almost couldn’t blame him for his confounded scowl. I took a deep breath. “I’m Ali,” I said calmly and rationally. “I—”
“Gabriel?” Earl limped up the stairs, clutching tight to the banister until he was at the top. He looked better, I noted. The flush was gone from his face and he wasn’t panting. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Gabriel turned to the other man.
“Really?” I was amazed at how much that single question sounded like mine, full of indignant disapproval. “She’s not even half your age.”
I had not seen that coming.
“Whoa! Wait. What?”
I was ignored.
“Why do they keep getting younger?” he demanded of Earl. “You’re going to break a damn hip … again, and I’m going to have to listen while you explain to the doctor how you broke the fucking thing … again! You’re eighty years old, Grandpa!” Gabriel then rounded on me. “He’s eighty years old!”
“Dude!” I began, putting both hands up to ward off the craziness he was spewing. “I am not tapping that.” I winced and shot Earl a sheepish smile. “No offense.” I went back to glowering at Lumberjack. “So his hip is perfectly safe with me.”
Gabriel looked me over. Actually looked me over with a disbelief that was astounding. Did I have old man hooker stamped to my forehead, or something? Like seriously? I was insulted … and then he added salt to my injuries.
“I guess,” he mumbled. “Did he forget to return a book, or something? I didn’t know the library did house calls.”
How. The. Fuck. Did I go from being a hooker, to a librarian in the span of two seconds?
“Ali was kind enough to help me with my groceries,” Earl piped in before I could kick his lovely grandson in the family jewels.
Swooping down, I hefted up the pack of chicken still lying at my feet and shoved it into his gut with all the force in me. His grunt of pain was only mildly satisfying.
“I accept apologizes in written form only,” I growled through my teeth. “I like to file them under Fuckhead.”
With that, I stomped around him and started for the stairs.
“Ali, wait.” Earl hurried after me, and I only stopped for him. Otherwise, I was ready to make my grand exit, stage left. “Don’t mind Gabriel. His mother drank while she was pregnant.”
“Grandpa!”
He ignored his grandson, which amused me. I was really beginning to like Earl. Enough to sleep with him? Uh, no. But definitely enough to want to give him a high five.
“I still owe you for helping me with my groceries.”
I shook my head. “Really it’s fine. I have to get home anyway and continue the job hunt. But it was wonderful to meet you.”
“Actually!” Earl grabbed my hand before I could leave. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”
I frowned. “You want to help me job hunt?”
“Yes and no,” he answered with a chuckle. “We need someone with your expertise here at the shop and you need a job. I think we can help each other out.”
“What are you doing, Grandpa?” Gabriel demanded.
“I’m getting this place an administrative assistant,” Earl retorted. “Someone who knows how to do the books and filing, because apparently you got my brains when it comes to paperwork.”
Gabriel scowled. The guy was a professional scowler. I could tell. He was very good at his job.
“We’re doing fine,” he grumbled.
“Have you seen the office, Gabriel?” Earl countered. “I found a form the other day dating back to when the shop was first opened. We need the help.”
Gabriel seemed to chew this bit of information over, possibly literally. His face-bush kept twitching. Either that, or some unsuspecting rodent had made a home beneath that jungle.
“Fine. I’ll call someone,” he replied. “There has to be an agency, or—”
“Why when Ali’s right here?” Earl said, waving a hand at me.
Those smolderingly gray eyes darted to me and narrowed even further if possible. “You met the girl two minutes ago. How do you know she’s any good? Besides, she barely looks old enough to be out of school.”
Yeah, this guy and I would never be friends. He made me want to stab him, repeatedly, with something pointy and rusty. That didn’t make for very good friendship.
“I graduated with my bachelors last year,” I informed him sharply. “And spent the last ten months interning at one of the biggest ad companies in Portland. Trust me, I am very good at what I do.”
“And I am a very good judge of character,” Earl added. “I like Ali and since this is still my shop, I’m hiring her.”
Gabriel stared hard at his grandfather. “That’s not how this works. You need references and—”
“I’m not an idiot, Gabriel!” Earl snapped. “I’ve been doing this since before you were born. But she’s the one I want.”
It didn’t even dawn on me that I had just accepted a job at a garage. At that moment, all I wanted was to rub it in Gabriel’s smug little face. Then it hit me.
“Wait, you’re giving me a job?”
Gabriel threw his hands up. “Observant.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I was ten different belts of crazy and not afraid to use all of them on him if he kept pushing me, but Earl touched my arm.
“If you want it,” he said kindly. “It might not be all fancy, but you can start tomorrow. Bring your papers and Gabriel will go over them.”
With that, and a pat on my shoulder, he shuffled back down the stairs, leaving me alone with Mountain Man.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
Unbelievable.
“I don’t sleep with men to get what I want, Jack,” I snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of getting through life without offering my taco to every man that walks my way.”
That seemed to silence him. He watched me like I was some endangered species that just made no sense. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wasn’t there for his approval. I certainly didn’t want it.
But, at the same time, I did need a job. After three months of unemployment, my savings had begun to grow a happy family of dust bunnies and I didn’t know when I would get another offer like that. Besides, it would only be temporary. I could watch my mouth and temper for a few months.
Gabriel turned his full attention on me, which meant not just his eyes, or his head, but his entire body so we were facing off. I hated that he was taller than me. Pretending to be a bad ass took extra effort when you were stuck glowering at a beautiful man chest.
“My grandfather is eighty years old,” he told me again in a deep, quiet tone. “He’s trusting of pretty faces, but I’m not. I may not have any say in who he hires, but that sure as hell won’t stop me from booting you out of here if I smell even a hint of foul play.”
“What exactly do you think I’m after?” I wondered. “And what exactly does foul play smell like?”
His gaze roamed along my frame, taking in everything from the chipped, purple nail polish on my toes to the messy knot that was my hair bun. I wasn’t sure which of that irritated him more, because his frown never shifted. He seemed to disapprove of all of me.
“Look,” I said, struggling to keep my calm when all I wanted to do was throat punch the guy for making me feel about two inches tall with just a look. “I get it. You think a woman doesn’t belong in a garage.”
“You’re right,” he said evenly. “That’s exactly what I think.”
It took me a full second to peel my jaw off the floor.
“That is the most sexist thing I have ever—”
“Do you know what women are, Ali? A liability,” he went on, ignoring my irate sputtering. “They come into a place and destroy it with the two ton bag of drama they heave around. I don’t like drama. And I don’t like trouble, which is exactly what you are.”
Any other time, any other person and I would have taken that as a compliment. As it were, his condescending bullshit pissed me off.
“And how am I trouble?” I bite out with all the composure I could scrounge up. “Is it the glasses, because I can vouch for their character?” His eyes narrowed, but I didn’t give a shit. “You know, this is why women don’t feel comfortable bringing their cars in to get checked, because of assholes like you who treat them like they’re braindead and unworthy of a fair exchange. You think just because we’re women and may not know as much about vehicles as men that we’re somehow less superior to you. Well, you know what, Jack, you can keep your fucking job. I wouldn’t work for you, with you, near you if you paid me in gold bricks.”
Whirling on my heels, I left.
I walked out of the garage without running into Earl. I briefly wondered if I should find him and thank him for the generous offer that I needed to decline, but thought better of it. I needed to get away from that asshole before I did something I might not regret later.
My apartment was a two block walk from the garage, tucked behind a towering wall of spruce trees. It sat nestled on a slight incline surrounded by Victorian homes and other smaller apartments. Mine was one of the older structures. The red brick was faded and chipped in places and the windows were the enormous panes used in lofts, but the rent was cheap and I liked the view.
The building itself had originally been two separate structures with six stories each. At some point, someone had connected the pair by a wall on either end, leaving a narrow gap in between that opened into a courtyard that was never used because realistically, it was a squished alley someone spruced up with flowerboxes. I could easily leap from my balcony into the apartment across the way … if I was Cat Woman, or a burglar. As it were, I was neither and had no desire to leap into an empty apartment. But the thing I did like to do was occasionally stand by the terrace doors and watch the lives of the people in the other building. As a person who lived on the sixth floor, dead center, I had the perfect angle to see most of what was going on in the other suites. Call me crazy, or a pervert, but most people in my position would do the same, especially since there was nowhere else to look, except to maybe count the bricks on the building. My neighbors were much more interesting.
I have always liked watching. I like seeing how people interact and behave alone and in groups. I like wondering what they’re talking about and what they’re thinking. As a child, I was the lone kid on the playground, the one that said nothing, but stared at the others as they ran and played. I was okay with that. I never cared that I wasn’t picked for teams, or asked to play skip rope. While I wasn’t some creepy shut in that liked collecting strands of my classmate’s hairs to make dolls, I didn’t go out of my way to make friends either. I still don’t. Friends are great, except I never know what to do with them. I see other people and it all seems so natural. They laugh and talk and make plans to talk and laugh some more at a later date. I would probably throw a fry at them and hope they were distracted enough not to notice me running away.
So I stayed home. When I did have to interact, I did so cautiously and tried not to make any sudden movements. Occasionally, I could even have full on conversations with people without anyone getting hurt. But I liked my solitary life. I cherished it even.
My apartment was designed by someone with no concept of measurements. Everything was done in extremes. The living room was barely big enough for a sofa, while the only bedroom was enormous. The kitchen was small, but the single bathroom could fit an entire Russian circus. The closet in the hall could have doubled as a second bedroom if it hadn’t been so narrow, while the pantry in the kitchen could barely hold a stack of towels. I was only thankful no one ever came to visit me or it would have been hard to explain why my bedroom was in the living room and why my living room was in my bedroom, or why all my food was in the closet down the hall near the bathroom and my towels were in my kitchen. It all worked fine for me, but I knew it wasn’t normal.
Tossing my keys and purse onto the glass table I kept by the front door, I kicked off my sandals and made my way into the bedroom. It was a short walk down a minute hall that split off in three separate directions. Right to the kitchen. Left to the living room and bathroom, and straight for the bedroom. My toes curled in the plush carpet that extended from wall to wall. Underneath it was the scarred hardwood that came with the place. But after a week of waking up to use the bathroom and having to tiptoe on what felt like a sheet of ice, I said screw it and splurged on a carpet. Best investment ever.
My bedroom was my favorite spot in the whole place and it showed. It was designed for comfort and easy access to everything. My queen sized bed faced the TV I had mounted over a glass set of shelves holding my DVD player and surround sound. On one side of the bed was my mini fridge. The other held an end table with a lamp and the remotes to the TV. The terrace doors were on the other side of my bed, draped in sheer curtains. On the opposite side of the room, against the wall that separated the bedroom from the kitchen was my vanity. Everything was within reach.
I stripped. I rarely saw the point of being dressed at home. There was no one there to judge me for the way I looked, or what shape I was in. It was my place of sanctuary. Plus there was something liberating about eating a cup of pudding completely naked.
At a little after six, I drew on a robe, turned off the TV and wandered into the kitchen for a bowl of something. My pantry consisted mostly of things that could easily be warmed, cans of soup, microwavable dinners, the occasional canisters of squeeze cheese. I lived for one person. Me. If I wanted to cook a full meal, I had the luxury of running to the grocery store, grabbing the items and coming home. But those desires were rare. As it were, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and made my way to the terrace.
Seven o’clock was when my neighbors came home. It was when the dark windows lit up and life happened on the other side of the glass. I treated seven o’clock the way soap opera junkies treated their favorite sitcoms, with reverence and excitement.
The steel hoops embedded into the curtains hissed as I dragged the sheer drapes across the metal rod. I propped the glass doors open to the muggy evening and leaned a hip against the frame.
It was still fairly bright out. The sun was just making its final descent behind the buildings, but the narrow notch of space that I considered my little world had shadows slinking their way across the bricks. The lights from the other apartments were sharper, brighter, casting the figures inside into edgy silhouettes.
There were eighteen apartments. Each floor had three windows stamped into the side. I had given each one a name, which periodically changed as the occupants did. For example, in the three months I’d lived there, no one had ever rented the apartment adjacent to mine so that had come to be known as the Empty. Levels one, two, and three were impossible to see into from my sixth floor view. So that left me four, five and six. Four was iffy. I could only see about six feet into their apartments. But five and six were gold and that was where my favorite people lived.
Window one, top row: Old Man and Young Girl I had assumed for the first three weeks were father and daughter. So. Not. I learned that the hard way while eating spicy curry and nearly dying when he heaved the girl against the glass and started fucking her.
Window two, top row: Empty.
Window three, top row: Crazy Jungle Couple who fought like piranha’s over fresh meat and made love just as intensely. They were better to watch than WWE on pay per view. I always had popcorn ready for when they got home. It was impossible to tell how the night would end.
Window one, second row: an Asian Couple with Little Girl. Watching them made me nostalgic for my own family, but then the girl would cry and throw things and that feeling would go away.
Window two, second row: Slutty Blonde with copious number of lovers. That week, she was banging the occupant of window three, second row, Handsome Dark Haired Dude with a beer belly but a seriously massive cock.
Row three was full of families.
Window one, row three: Single Mother with Little Boy. I would occasionally see him sitting at the window with his hand held game, munching on carrot sticks.
Window two, row three: Man and Woman with Twin Ghost Daughters. I was convinced those two girls were from The Shining. Creepy little shits. Every so often, I would look down and they’d just be standing there … staring back. Not blinking. It made it even creepier that they were both extremely pale with dead eyes and long dark hair. I shuddered every time my gaze roamed over their window.
Window three, row three: Large, Hairy Man with a deeper love of microwavable food than me, who spent a large portion of his time in his recliner watching football. I had a feeling he was a gambler, simply from the fits he’d always have when his team lost. It was irrational. But then what did I know about men and sports? Maybe he just had rage issues. Yet that didn’t explain why he’d get on the phone immediately afterwards and shout at whoever was on the other end. But that also could be explained. Maybe he had a friend somewhere else equally pissed and the two were venting to each other.
The fun was always in the guessing.
That evening, only three of the windows lit up. Old Man and Hopefully Not His Daughter came home first. She sauntered into the living room, tossed her bright, pink purse down on the sofa and flopped down next to it. Old Man ambled his way into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge.
No fucking tonight, I thought, shifting my gaze to the other two windows.
The Ghost Girls were back in their lacy, purple dresses, white stockings and jet black hairs. They stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the window. Their dad was hanging up their matching red coats in the hallway closet. Mom wasn’t home yet. She was a secretary, or a lawyer. She didn’t get home until about eleven, stooped over like her briefcase was filled with bricks.
The third window gave me a start. The presence of the pale, golden glow took my brain a full minute to process and even it knew something wasn’t right.
Window two, top row: wasn’t empty. There was movement behind the curtains. There was light!
“Holy shit!”
Cereal bowl abandoned on the glass table next to the terrace doors, I stepped further onto the balcony. My fingers curled around the cool metal railing and I leaned in as far as I could without forgetting my not Cat woman notion and making the lunge over.
But as quickly as all the excitement had started, it sparked in surprise when the light flicked off and there was nothing. My gaze darted from the windows to the glass doors, waiting like an eager little puppy begging someone to throw the fucking ball already.
Nothing happened. The lights remained off. Stillness continued.
My gaze narrowed as I straightened. “All right,” I mumbled to the silence. “You win this round, but tomorrow…”
I let my promise linger into the night as I stepped back into my apartment.

Airicka Phoenix is a hopeless romantic with a dark imagination and an incurable addiction to chocolate. She is also the author of several novels written for young adult and new adult romance readers who like bad boys, hot kisses and a gritty plot. Airicka prides herself in producing quality material her readers can fall in love with again and again.

When she’s not hard at work bleeding words onto paper, Airicka can be found cuddling with her family, reading, watching TV shows, or just finding excuses to avoid doing chores.

To find out about upcoming books, teasers, giveaways and more, join her newsletter or check out her www.AirickaPhoenix.com!:

 

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Release Day: Collapse by Xavier Neal

XN CP RD Teaser 2
••*´¨`*•.☆NEW RELEASE••*´¨`*•.☆

Collapse is #LIVE!
Let this Special Forces member do what he does best.
Melt your panties and break your heart.
#OneClick this military romance today!

Amazon

XN CP Cover
 Special Forces Horn Unit Member, Michael Love, is best known for his smart mouth and sexual conquests. However, when a mission forces him to revisit his painful past, he is turned inside out. If the pressure from that wasn’t enough, he’s asked for a favor by the only girl who he could never tell no. Between the two missions will this Special Forces member survive or will the weight of it all force him to Collapse?

(Can be read as a Standalone, but is a novel in the Havoc Series)

XN CP RD Teaser 1

Release Day Blitz: Wickedly Exotic Spring Erotic Wonderland Box Set

anthology teaser100% of proceeds benefit National Autism Association

Wickedly Exotic Spring Erotic Wonderland box set

Stories & Author list

49 Shades Of Vampire by P Mattern

Ghost Of A Chance by C.A. Tibbitts

The Undercover Rock Star by Jenna Galicki

Bella Noche by Elisabeth Popolow

A Wolff’s Mate by P.T. Macias

Fantasy Come True by Desiree A. Cox

His Living Kiss by Heather Marie Adkins

Vampires Of The Sea by Lynna Stephens

Assassin’s Mate by Jami Brumfield

Subtle Magic by Josette Reuel

Tomorrow’s Forecast by Ginger Marie

—————

49 Shades Of Vampire by P Mattern

Be careful what you wish for—especially if it BITES!

Ambrosia Divik has landed her dream job—she is the personal assistant of a handsome billionaire, working in a high rise. A huge fan of Vampire themed movies and Indie Vampire novels, she is convinced after observing his lifestyle and habits that he is a modern day vampire.

Will confronting him make her dreams come true or usher in a nightmare from which there is no awakening?

49shades.pmattern

———————-

Ghost Of A Chance by C.A. Tibbitts

Vanessa has run a bed and breakfast for years in her small home town in Missouri.  When her ex, Grant, shows up after his mother’s death, he winds up staying at the bed and breakfast and taking over the vacant position of handyman.

Vanessa is haunted by the ghost of Grant’s mother, while Grant frequently sees Vanessa’s deceased aunt.

Can two meddling ghosts help to rekindle the love between Grant and Vanessa that never really died?

ghost of chance.CATibbitts

——————-

The Undercover Rock Star by Jenna Galicki

A spur of the moment vacation was supposed to jolt Cameron Douglas out of his funk, but it appears he only traded locations.  It was a chance meeting with a handsome stranger at the luxury resort that changed everything.  The mysterious man stirs Cameron’s interest and his heart, but will the handsome man reveal his true identity before their vacation in paradise is over?

Sometimes life in the spotlight was a heavy weight to bear for Brandon Bullet. He never knew if men were interested in him as a person or just enamored with his rock star status—until he meets Cameron Douglas. It wasn’t often that Brandon shared a connection with someone who wasn’t aware of his notoriety. He’s determined to keep his identity a secret while the two of them get to know each other—and before someone blows his cover.

undercover rock star teaser b j galicki

———————

Bella Noche by Elisabeth Popolow

When vampires Lily and her blood-sire, Darius visit New York to meet with the discerning Master of the City, Nikolas, he ends up being more than they had bargained for. Not only is Nikolas a neurotic clean-freak, he wants their help in catching a crazed weretiger shifter that’s been terrorizing the streets, murdering and eating not only humans, but vampires too. Will Lily and Darius be able to find the weretiger for Nikolas before she strikes again- and adds yet another victim to her pile of corpses?

 

———————-

A Wolff’s Mate by P.T. Macias

The FBI Director seeks intel and discovers more than he counted on. His mate is in trouble and time is running out. The mature widow is oblivious to what she has in her hands. The tall handsome stranger awakens her passions and love. She’s forced to make life changing decisions, forget her insecurities, and liberate her passions.

wolffsmate_ptmacias

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Fantasy Come True by Desiree A. Cox

Gavin and Chloe’s relationship was very sensual and passionate.  They were no strangers to talking about fantasies; however, Chloe revealed a particular fact about her past that intrigued Gavin.

While on vacation they ensured Las Vegas’ nickname ‘Sin City’ continued to hold true.  The temperature wasn’t the only thing hot as they pushed their sexual limits beyond the traditional boundaries into taboo territory, with satisfied desires and one Fantasy Come True.  For 18+ readers due to explicit sex, sex situations, and language.

FantasyComeTrue_desireecox

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His Living Kiss by Heather Marie Adkins

MJ Strong’s life spiraled into darkness when her father committed suicide just before the new millennium. On a late night bender, she’s found by the only creature in the world drawn to her depression: a vampire. What she thinks is a forever connection ends abruptly fourteen years later when he disappears without a trace.

MJ finds herself searching for meaning to her existence in the wake of his absence. What she finds is a bar, the patrons and people who work there, and Foster Price. A human man—a living man—whose connection goes so much deeper than their shared darkness. Together, they find the light they seek to burn away the sorrow they’ve lived with for far too long.

 

—————-

Vampires Of The Sea by Lynna Stephens

Lynnea and Zendava are two sisters of a different breed, literally.  They are Vampire Mermaids. Until a life threatening event their secret had been something they shared with no one, not even each other. Their taste for blood and the need to keep their dark secrets hidden brings them to the shores of surrounding islands where they in their own unique ways satisfy their lust filled desires. Lynnea enjoys the bar scene where she carefully picks her prey, teases them, tortures and finally sucks the life out of them. She not only had a taste for blood but the violent aftermath excited her as well.

Zendava views each prey as a course of a meal. For her appetizer she likes them light and airy, smart on the outside dumb on the inside. She is especially excited by the fancy, stiletto wearing, stuck up ones. They always weaken in her presence. For her entrees she enjoys full, voluptuous even heavy prey. The bigger the better. They are usually lonely and alone. They love to be touched and she loves how excited they get, how they become so enthralled that they don’t even fight when her teeth graze and then sink into their soft necks. She likes the feeling of being full and happy and knew her visits would be few and far between so she tried to make them last. She had learned a lot of the type of prey she liked and what it took to get them to drop their guard on her visits above. They were all very sexual and surprisingly easy to manipulate.

Coming to shore was a forbidden act and a secret each sister kept from the other. Mermaids all knew the dangers of visiting the shores. If found out their lives could turn to nightmares. Lynnea and Zendava had always been warned against visiting the world on top by their mother who spoke of it as if it were hell. Just as everything comes to an end eventually so did their trips above. One dark visit brings sickness, confusion, near loss and love had taught this family of Mermaids a hard lesson. Their Mother who had over the years become less vibrant and energetic finally reveals what brought her to that point. Fortunately their love for each other and their clan brings them home to the sea, for good.

———————

Assassin’s Mate by Jami Brumfield

Scarlett Jennings is on the run from a sadistic ex-fiancé. She takes refuge on a supernatural cruise liner as a dancer. She doesn’t makes plans for her future because she knows he will find her someday. Brock Martin is part of an order of assassins. He hops the supernatural cruise to kill his next target but is intercepted by a red-headed tigress. After one kiss he makes plans to take out his mark and spend the rest of the week courting the beautiful dancer. There’s only one problem with those plans, his Scarlett has a hefty price on her head and he’s been dispatched to collect.

——————–

Subtle Magic by Josette Reuel

Growing up different had made life difficult for Harley Hawen, a Rhai’ud without magic; she had buried herself in her cooking and baking. Her only friend, her cousin and roommate, Jenna, was a true Rhai’ud with the looks and magic.

Resigned to a life alone and magicless, Harley worked at her parents diner and spent free nights with Jenna. Then six months ago a group of men on motorcycles rolled into town and Harley and Jenna’s dreams had become tormented.

Magic has a subtle way of making things happen.

Chase and Diesel were Gwar’Arth — bear shifters. The Den they had grown up in was becoming too tight for all of the younger males that were looking for mates, so they had brought their new Den members to a new home on Karhu Ridge.

Chase and Diesel were two-thirds of a Triad mating. They had found each other as young boys, but had never found their third. So, they rode into town that first day knowing that they had a third for their Triad out there somewhere, but they hadn’t realized that she would walk right out in front of them when they were least expecting it.

For six months the woman tormented them and did everything to keep away from them, but they had had enough. She would realize that they were all meant to be together, if it was the last thing both Gwar’Arth men did.

SubtleMagic_JosetteRoeul.3

—————————-

Tomorrow’s Forecast by Ginger Marie

Amber Collins has come back to her country home in the hills of Kentucky. Returning after years of traveling, Amber is longing to find some deeper purpose for life than just work and solitude.

Shane Callahan is a very successful, highly motivated man that doesn’t take no for an answer. Shane had been rather content with his life, until….. He saw her again!

It had been almost 20 years since their paths had crossed. Little did they know how much their lives mirrored one another’s.  Always checking the forecast to plan the day. Each longing to find meaning, driven by desires, how little they knew that deep down their most erotic desires were deep seeded around the other.

After all this time…. Would they continue to be “best buds” or would they give in to their inner urges?  Allowing themselves to drift into an erotic abyss of pleasure…

What Will ….

TOMORROW’S FORECAST Bring?!

tomorrowsforecast_gingermarie

Amazon:  http://bit.ly/wickedlyexotic

All proceed from the sale of this box set goes directly to the National Autism Association.

Facts: Autism now affects 1 in 68 children; Boys are four times more likely to have autism than girls; About 40% of children with autism do not speak. About 25%–30% of children with autism have some words at 12 to 18 months of age and then lose them; CHILDREN WITH AUTISM DO PROGRESS – EARLY INTERVENTION IS KEY; AUTISM IS TREATABLE, NOT A HOPELESS CONDITION.

SubtleMagic_JosetteReuel.2

SubtleMagic_JosetteRoeul

undercover rock star teaser2 by J Galicki

The Sicarii: Hired Gun Serials by A.J. Bennett and Julia Crane is on SALE!

AmazonB&NiTunes

*Mature adults due to language and sexual nature*

Tall, dark, and sexy as hell, Thorne Hollow knows the power he holds over the opposite sex and how to use it. Cast out by the gods thousands of years ago, he roams the earth working as an assassin for The Sicarii, a secret society who protects humans from all of the things that go bump in the night.

One night stands are his way of life … until he meets a mysterious woman whose intriguing power compels him to uncover more about her and the strange magic she wields.

Previously Hired Gun Serial. Complete novel.

 
 
 

Review: Thoughtful by S.C. Stephens

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AmazonGoodreads

Every story has two sides, and in this new book, the epic love story between Kiera and Kellan is shown through his eyes.

All Kellan Kyle needs is his guitar, and some clean sheets of paper. Growing up in a house that was far from a home, he learned a hard lesson:You’re worthless. Now his life is comfortably filled with passionate music, loyal band mates, and fast women… until he meets her.

Kiera makes him ache for more. Makes him feel for the first time that he’sworth more. But there’s one problem— she’s his best friend’s girl.

Just when Kellan thought his emotional defenses were rock solid, Kiera’s indecisive heart wreaks havoc on his soul, changing him forever. Losing Kiera is not an option.

 

Amy’s Review:

4 STARS!!!!

I was excited to read this book. I loved Thoughtless and couldn’t wait to see things from Kellan’s POV. The whole series is amazing. Picking up Thoughtful I wanted to feel connected to Kellan. Wanted to feel his wants, needs, fears, and passion for Keira but I felt that it was a bit lacking and his internal monologue was a bit repetitive. His personality seemed a bit different than in Thoughtless. I guess I expected more from him.

I got glimpses into Kellan’s past as he was growing up. My heart absolutely broke for him and how his bastard of a father and bitch of a mother treated him. Is it wrong to say I’m glad they are dead? Lol.

The sex scenes were just as hot as they were in Thoughtless. I loved to read it from Kellan’s side. What he was thinking and feeling during it. The timeline almost lines up identical to Thoughtless except with the glimpses into Kellan’s past. Definitely worth the read.

 

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Cover Reveal: Mollify by Xavier Neal

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00099]

Title: Mollify (Senses Series Novel)

Author: Xavier Neal

Photographer: Paul Henry Serres ( https://www.facebook.com/PaulHenrySerresPhotographe?fref=ts )

Release Date: May 3rd

Synopsis:

Dean “Mr. O” Kellar has been following closely in the footsteps of his famous adopted father for years, but when Megan Davis pops back into his life suddenly he starts following him in a new light. She was the girl who saved Dean when they were children and the girl he needs to save now. Will the two of them be torn apart once more or will their hearts be allowed a chance to finally mollify?

-This book is in the 9th in the series but may be read as a standalone-

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00099]

Author Interview: Susan Griscom

Author Interview with Susan Griscom

Susan Griscom~What are you currently working on?

A Gypsy’s Kiss, A Sectorium Novel, book 1. This series is a spin off from my Whisper Cape Trilgoy. The first book is set six years in the future and is Breena’s story. Each book will be a stand-alone and feature the eight kids from the trilogy as grown-ups with their own stories.

~Who is your favorite author?

Nora Roberts and right now, Colleen Hoover

~Which of your characters is your Book Boyfriend? Why?

It’s hard to pick just one. But Cael was my first so I would have to say him since I’ve written about him the most. He is my idea of the perfect male.

~Are you an organized author or scattered?

Oh gosh. I am very scattered. I usually don’t have an outline and write what comes into my head when I’m sitting in front of the screen. I do try to jot down a few things about where I’d like the story to go, but sometimes the characters just don’t want to go there and so we end up doing something else.

~Which one of your characters is your absolute favorite? Why?

Courtland from Allusive Aftershock and Brodie from Beautifully Used are my favorites. They were easy to write. I felt all their pain. Courtland goes through some awful stuff during all those earthquakes.

~Do you work on 1 story at a time or multiples?

Usually just one story at a time. If I think of one that I want to write at a later time, I’ll jot some things down about it. But in order for me to stay focused on the characters and their needs, I need to stick with them until they are finished.

~What is your favorite genre to read?

Contemporary and paranormal romance. That’s what I write too.

~If you could go back in time what is one thing you would tell your teenage self?

Not to be in such a hurry to grow up and to take relationship slower. Also to try to be more outgoing and study harder.

~What are your favorite hobbies?

I read. LOL I ride my bike, I run, I ski and I used to quilt, but haven’t for a while.

~Do you believe in love at first sight?

Not for me. But I believe in lust at first sight.

~Favorite drink? Alcoholic or not.

Wine

~What’s the one thing you can’t live without?

My mouse. I use a laptop, but I still need to use my mouse.

~If you had a superpower, what would it be?

I would love to be able to teleport. I’m not a fan of flying, but I do love to travel and go to book signing events. If I could just think it and be there? Wow. I would love that.

~What is your favorite TV show?

Games of Thrones, Vampire Diaries.

~Do you like to go out or stay home?

I am a complete home body. I hate to get dressed and go out. Sometimes it’s fun at night to go out to dinner or a movie, but during the day, I hate to leave the house.

~What is your favorite movie?

P.S. I love you, Armageddon, and Independence day.

~What is your preferred method to violently kill someone (in your book, of course)?

Poison

~Do you take the “personality” quizzes, like on Buzzfeed/Facebook?

I think they are fun.

~What is your favorite holiday?

Christmas

~What is your favorite/ go to cuss word?

Fuck and shit. Of Damn shows up a lot too.

~Do you like tattooed bad boys or sweet good guys?

I love the tattoos. I don’t have any but I love to look at them. I don’t like it when they are covered completely but I like them on the arms, hips, backs, chests. Not on the face though.

~What is one of your phobias?

Heights and snakes

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A Gypsy’s Kiss (The Sectorium Series Book 1)

Excerpt

After my brief recuperation period, I went back into the game. A few minutes later, the ref blew his whistle for icing against the other team. That meant there would be a face-off. I skated to the spot on the ice where the referee held the puck. I had to face-off with the asswipe who’d elbowed me in the back, number four. Part of the fun of hockey was the violence, and learning to navigate through the complex systems and labyrinths of physical contact while still adhering to the code. An unwritten set of rules that had been handed down from generation to generation. The code picked up where the rulebook left off.
With my stick down on the ice and ready, number four put his stick down. The puck fell, and I got to it, sending it over to Tex, who took it down the ice. I skated to the corner and Tex shot the puck over to me. Number four came at me again, his gloved hand on his stick right at the level of my balls. I pivoted to my right, and he got me in the hip. This time, I dropped my stick and slung out a punch. When a player challenges another, that player must answer the call and stand up for his team. Number four was doing his best to show me up. Fights can turn the tide of the game and create momentum. This fight would be more than just my retaliation, it would also spark some energy for the team. Something we needed if we were going to win this game.
His first punch struck me on the left side of my jaw. Next thing I knew, our gloves were off and I’d sent out a punch to his face, my knuckles colliding with the side of his mouth. His helmet flew off. I took another punch to the face, which almost sent me to the ice as my own helmet rolled away, but I managed to stay up on my skates and got in a few more slugs before we were doing the fighter hug, my fist still pounding into his neck and chin. The battle was eventually stopped by the refs, and both number four and I headed to the penalty box. We each had five minutes to sit and brood. At least the teams were evenly numbered and there wouldn’t be any power play by the other team. I turned to glance at Breena. She looked worried. She needn’t worry about me, and I didn’t want her to worry, but it made me feel excellent that she might be concerned. It had been a hockey fight. Nothing more. It happened all the time. I sent her my best cocky grin, and she rolled her eyes.

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Stalker Links

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http://www.amazon.com/Susan-Griscom/e/B008R94FNO/

Author Interview: Dany Rae Miller

Author Interview with Dany Rae Miller

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~What is your favorite TV show?

My all time favorite show is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Loved the characters, and how Joss Whedon wove the story over the life of the series. I’m a Joss Whedon groupie for sure. J Dollhouse was another favorite.  My current favorite show is The Originals.

~What was your first job?

Oh, my gosh. It was at Sonic Drive-In. The first day I did nothing but make onion rings . . .  from scratch! Imagine a 16 year old with all her mascara and eyeliner running down her face and dripping off her chin. Seriously, my eyes were so swollen by the end of my shift that I had to call my dad to come drive me home. And, yes, believe it not, I went back the next day.

~What is one thing you will never do again?

Make onion rings from scratch. Never. Ever. EVER. Again.

~If you could date a celebrity who would it be and why?

TV construction hunk Anthony Carrino. Why? Geez. Look at him! And he can fix anything. ANY. THING. 😉  Plus, he seems like a big old softie when it comes to the home reveals.

~Favorite drink?

Wine. Any kind, but especially a truly oaky, buttery California chardonnay.

~Name one of your pet peeves?

Cruelty. I can’t stand intentional cruelty of any kind.

~Do you believe in love at first sight?

Yes. I think we can connect with certain people in an instant. Will it last, though? That’s the ultimate question.

~What are your favorite hobbies?

Writing, of course. LOL. I also love to knit and crochet with decadent yarn, and I love to cook.

~Do you work on one story at a time or multiples?

I work on one novel at time. However, Wolven Moon is turning into a very integrated series with an overarching storyline going through at least eight novels. So, I’m loosely plotting several books at once while writing the current WIP.

~Do you plot out your stories or write as you go?

A little of both. I don’t start writing until I know the beginning, the ending and at least three pivotal points.

~What writing advice do you have for aspiring authors?

Trust yourself. If you’re an avid reader, you know a good story when you see one. Don’t let so-called writing rules get in the way of your story. And it is YOUR story. Write it your way.

~What are you currently working on?

Soft Fate, the second installment in the Wolven Moon series. My readers are reading it for free right now (as of March 2015). I’m posting chapters on my website as I’m finishing them. It’s a cool beta reader/sneak peek arrangement that I did with Soft Shatter, too. I love it! There is nothing better than instant feedback from readers, and nothing more motivating than readers clamoring for more.

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