Monday, August 18, 2014

**COVER REVEAL** Damsel Not by Kristina Circelli

To Be Released October 12th:

In the days of old, one knight fought to save the maiden he loved – a battle that ended in a bloody promise for the future. 

In the days of the 21st Century, Izz doesn’t believe in prophecies. A recent widow, she struggles to find the passion that once fueled her life – a passion that is reignited the day a knight in disguise cuts into her life in a flash of swordplay and seductive grins.

Izz doesn’t want to love him. The guilt of moving on nearly crushes her, yet she finds herself unable to resist the touch, the feel, the scent of the man who leaves her breathless with just one look. But each day Izz finds herself drawn to Cade, the more danger she finds herself in, for someone believes Izz to be at the center of an ages-old prophecy – and will do anything to stop it.

When threatening messages turn even more dangerous, Izz must rediscover a part of herself she’s never known before and fight to save her knight in shining armor. With only a sword passed down throughout the generations to guide her, Izz must prove to her adversary that unlike maidens of old, she will never be a damsel in distress.

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Friday, August 8, 2014

Witch Hunter Olivia by T.A. Kunz

Here's what New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors are saying about Witch Hunter Olivia by T.A. Kunz:


"Witch hunters and sexy tattoo artists? This New Adult Paranormal is EVERYTHING fans of romance and action are looking for."
- #1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout

"A fun, action-packed, enjoyable read!"
- New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cora Carmack

"The perfect blend of New Adult and Paranormal. It's absolutely fantastic!" - New York Times bestselling author Nichole Chase

~ ~ ~

Reviewers are calling Witch Hunter Olivia "amazing, fun, well-written, and entertaining." You don't want to miss the hottest New Adult paranormal romance of the summer!



In the town of Piedmont Pointe, where paranormal is the norm, a girl can easily get herself in over her head with a single wrong move. Unfortunately for Olivia Adams, she's about to make several.

Starting over is never easy, but it seemed like the only option to Olivia. The decision to turn her back on the Guild of Witch Hunters, the very group she devoted her entire life to, was one of the hardest things she ever did. It meant leaving her family, her friends, and her old identity behind forever. Coming to terms with what caused her to abandon her duties in the first place was even harder.

While trying to lay low and stay off the Guild's radar, Olivia finds herself thrust back into her old ways after unknowingly interrupting an assassination hit on a powerful witch. What follows is the last thing she ever thought she'd agree to do--protect the very thing she was groomed to hunt.

To complicate things even further, Olivia begins to develop feelings for a tattoo artist who also happens to be half warlock, and no matter how hard she tries to fight it, she can't resist her inescapable draw to him. Olivia's forbidden relationship isn't her only issue though, because once the mystery behind the assassination attempt starts to unravel, she's forced to choose sides when the loyalties still tied to her past life are tested again.

So much for the idea of a fresh start.


Amazon ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon AUS ~ B&N ~ iBooks ~ Kobo



Author T.A. Kunz has always had a fondness for reading thrilling mysteries and action-packed urban fantasies. So, it was no surprise when T.A. decided to write stories that theyíd fall into one of those two genres. T.A. lives in Central Florida with two fur babies and a mechanical engineer who also happens to be quite the culinary badass, which there are no complaints about. Being a self-diagnosed caffeine addict, many joke that T.A.ís addiction to Starbucks coffee will likely be their downfall later in life.


Website ~ Twitter

Monday, July 28, 2014

Blog Hop!
Keep Reading to get to the Rafflecopter

July 15 - August 3, 2014

Fabulous Prizes!

Killing Me Softly Blog Hop Schedule

July 15 – August 3, 2014

July 15
Michelle Muto                                          
Candy Smith                                             

July 16
Amber Clark                                             

July 17

July 18
Brea Essex                                               

July 19
Kendall McCubban                                  
Erin Danzer                                              

July 20
Melissa Stickney                                      

July 21
Kristi Strong                                              
July 22
Amy Jones                                                 

July 23
Kris Kendall                                              
Mandy Anderson                                      

July 24
Tiffany Perry                                            

July 25
Amy Stogner Avid Reader Amy               

July 26
Lisa Hines                                                 

July 27

July 28
Trish Davy
So Many Books So Little Time             
July 29
Tia Bach                                                                                                             

July 30

July 31

August 1
Raine Thomas                        

Clean New Adult Military Romance


Killing Me Softly

By Devyn Dawson


I glance down at my black pointy-toed high heels and realize they’re the most uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever worn.  Andy’s mom let me borrow a pair of Andy’s shoes since we wear the same size.  It will take me a while to think of her in the past tense.  Looking around the room all I see are strangers.  None of these people knew her like I did.  No one knew the way she loved soft furry blankets and in the summer she loved softy silky pajamas.  They didn’t know that she spent more time praying for her friends and animals than she did for herself.  No, they didn’t know those things, and they never will.
My best friend, Andy, died four days ago in a car accident with her boyfriend Doug.  A car crossed over the center lane and hit them head on.  The police say they died instantly.  I talked to her exactly ten minutes before the crash, she told me she was going to stop by on her way home.  We’ve always done that; stop by on our way home from shopping to show what we bought.   Doug took her to Dallas to pick up a guitar and to go shopping. Andy’s parents have money. They spoiled her, but she never acted spoiled.  She was kind and giving.  For her birthday, her dad gave her a prepaid credit card.  She had to keep her grades up, if she did, he’d load a thousand dollars on the card every month for a year.  That’s more money than I make at my job. When I go shopping, I hit the thrift stores and yard sales.  Just because I don’t spend tons of money on clothes, doesn’t mean I don’t look like I do.  There’s a thrift shop not too far from here that I find the best deals.  If the outfit doesn’t fit me, I do the alterations myself.   My money is from my job at the vitamin store in the mall. Eight dollars an hour doesn’t go far when you’re the bread winner in your family. 

Andy didn’t spend the money on things just for her, no, she would buy things for an after school program she worked for as a volunteer. She would give you every dime she had if you needed help. When she went shopping for herself, she would buy a matching outfit for me.  She would always say that I was the sister she always wanted.

Linda, Andy’s mom, is making her way over to me, her grief is written all over her face.  I stand up and wrap my arms around her thin body and in that moment the magnitude of what happened hits me like a brick wall.  I start to tremble, but I force myself to keep it together until I get home.  That’s when I’ll have the luxury of breaking down.

“Sugar, how are you holding up?” Linda asks.  One of her friends leans over and hands her a fresh martini.

“I don’t know,” I shrug my shoulders.  “It doesn’t seem real, does it?”

“She loved you so much,” I smell the alcohol on her breath as she kisses me on the cheek.  “You’re welcome here any time, you’re part of our family.  If that daddy of yours gives you any trouble, you come over and you can sleep in Andy’s room.  She’d want you to be here with us, you know that.”

“I know.  If you don’t mind, I need to go home and check on my dad.  They changed his meds this week.  As usual, he’s been in one of his moods.  Never mind all that, if you need anything, I’m number five on your speed dial.  I’ll drop off the shoes later this week.”

“Holland, keep the shoes, I don’t need them back.  Go check on your dad, I’m going to try to get everyone out of here at a decent hour.  My head hurts too much to deal with so many people.  I love you, Holly, don’t you forget it either.” Andy’s the only person who ever called me by my childhood nickname.  When I started high school, I went back to my given name, Holland. Linda pulls me in for another hug, this one is tighter and longer than the last one.  In my head I can hear Andy complaining that her mom is getting mushy.  I smile at the thought. 

“I love you too.  I’ll be by soon.”  She’s hugging me as if she’s holding onto a piece of her daughter for dear life.

Most everyone here are family or friends of the family.  A few people from high school came to the funeral, but everyone bailed before the graveside service.  If it were anyone other than Andy, I would have done the same.   My heart is heavy in my chest and tears threaten to come, but I suppress them so I can get home before I start the water works.

My street is ten streets away from Andy’s house, but the neighborhoods are polar opposites.  Her street is lined with manicured lawns and matching brick mailboxes at the end of each driveway.  Several people on our street have taken their mailbox down because some kids drove by with a baseball bat and dented in the metal mailboxes.  A couple of the neighbors have cars parked in their yard and many of the houses have some type of car up on car ramps or a jack.  Andy’s neighborhood is filled with houses with three bedrooms and two or more bathrooms.  Ours isn’t. 

I pull into the driveway that is cracked from neglect and hot Oklahoma summers.  Our small two bedroom house is dark red brick with white trim that could use a new paint job.

The screen door bangs closed as I step into the living room.  Dad is right where he was when I left this morning, asleep on the couch.

“Dad, it’s after two.”  I say it loud enough for him to hear me. 

He pushes himself up to a sitting position.  “How was it?  Is her mom holding up okay?”

“It was as nice as a funeral can be for an eighteen year old girl.  Her mom’s okay, she’s a strong woman,” I say harsher than intended. 

“When will you go to the store to buy groceries?”

The only question he cares about……food.  He doesn’t give a crap about the funeral, he’s been sitting on the couch all day.  He sits around and feels sorry for himself.  “Dad, I told you I don’t get paid until Tuesday.  Your Social Security check paid the bills.  I have thirty dollars for gas.  That’s all the money we have in the bank.  There’s stuff to eat, just not what you want.   Give me a few minutes to change for work and I’ll make you some supper.”

“You’re working on the day of your best friend’s funeral?”  He asks, posing as the concerned father.

“Yes, I’m working on the day Andy was buried.  I have to pay the bills, so working isn’t an option. Your prescriptions will be running out this week, I need money for your co-pays.  Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”  I set my stuff down as I head down the short hall to my bedroom.

“Holland, I’m getting better!  Don’t you worry, before long, I’ll be able to go back to work!”  He shouts out to me.

He’s told me a thousand times how he’s getting better.  Per Dr. Paul, his regular doctor, he’s never going to be fit to work again if he doesn’t go to therapy on a regular basis.  He’s two steps away from being placed in an institution.  He was involuntarily committed last October, it lasted for five days.  Being the selfish person I am, it was the most sleep I’ve had in years.  He was safely behind locked doors, and I didn’t have to worry about which side of him I was going to come home to.

My little room is large enough for my full-size bed and a small desk I found at a garage sale.  Most of my clothes are folded up inside big plastic bins.  Andy teased me about my organization skills.  She said I’m the only teenager who puts away their clothes on their own.   I found it easier to strap a bin of dirty laundry to my skateboard and pull it the two blocks to the Laundromat than to carry it that far.  I’ve been doing our laundry since my mom left when I was thirteen.  That was the year my dad lost his job with the advertising firm and everything spiraled out of control.

I bend over to tie my shoes and pick up my keys that fell to the floor.  I double check my reflection in the mirror before rushing out of my room to make a quick dinner for my dad.  Crap!  I think to myself as I realize I got more bleach splatters on the hems of my khakis.  Thankfully, Gerrie won’t be working tonight to gripe at me about buying a new pair of pants.  She find a way to complain about me at every opportunity she finds.  She hates it when I wear my long hair down, she says I shed it all over the store. Last year she got upset with me for not being tan like all the other girls in the mall.  She told me guys would come in to buy vitamins if I had a tan and wore make-up.

Andy and I would dream up crazy come-backs to Gerrie’s insults, but I never used them. 


How can I face another day without her humor?  How am I going to deal with my dad without her encouragement?  How will I carry on?



Chapter One.  Cheeky

Six months later.

“Yes Aunt Laney, I know his birthday is Saturday.  Dad won’t show up for dinner, he never does.  He hates surprises and apparently he hates showers too.  I know you don’t like to come to our neighborhood, so you can drop it off at the mall.  I’m working tonight and tomorrow morning.” 

“Okay, I’ll bring it to you at the mall.  I’ve reloaded that Visa for you to get some groceries.  Holland, you can come live with me, no one would blame you,” Aunt Laney says for the hundredth time.  She’s my dad’s older sister and the only family member who still checks in on us.  Her husband is a big corporate lawyer who represents every big company in Oklahoma.  She was his paralegal, until they fell in love and got married.  To ease her conscience she loads a prepaid Visa so I can buy groceries and gas.  She paid off the mortgage last Christmas.  She has no idea how much easier she made my life when I didn’t have to worry about that bill anymore.

Things have been looking better this year.  June moved away and I was promoted to assistant-manager, which included a two dollar an hour raise.  “Okay, I’ll see you then….and thank you for helping us by loading the Visa.”

“Oh honey, you’re a doll.  I’m proud of you for being such a good daughter to my baby brother.  I hope you’ve been able to keep your flawless GPA.  You’ve been working so many days a week, it must be hard to keep up your grades.”

I can picture her admiring her fingernails as she talks.  She’s always struck me as a superficial person by the clothes she wears and the people in her life.  “Thanks, I don’t have any choice, he’s my dad.”  I state the obvious.  “I’m taking online classes, so it works around my schedule.  Not to be rude, but I need to go; I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll see you later.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you this evening,” I click my cell phone off and close my bedroom door behind me.
“Dad, your dinner is in the fridge in the purple container, heat it up for one minute.”  I turn the corner and see my dad sitting up for a change.

“You’re going to work early, you should eat breakfast,” he suggests.

“Dad, it’s four in the afternoon.  I have to do laundry tomorrow, so it would be nice if you took a shower and put your dirty clothes in the hamper.”  He won’t.  He’ll give me excuses why he couldn’t shower before I got home.   Recently, he developed a fear of showering in an empty house.  His therapist called in a new medication, but it only seems to make him more of a zombie and has done nothing for his fear of cleanliness. 

“Four?  The days sure go by so fast.”  He rubs his hand across his unshaven face.  He’s not even forty, but you’d never know by the amount of grey in his beard.

“Gotta go, Dad,” I hold my breath and give him a peck on his head.


Friday evening at Darby Springs Mall is crowded as usual, leaving the only parking spaces ridiculously far from the doors.  During my lunch period I’ll move my car closer so I don’t have to get security to walk me to my car after work.  I ease the Charger between two SUVs, barely clearing the one on my right.  Aunt Laney gave me her old one as a graduation gift during my senior year.  Old to her is anything older than two years old.  She had only owned this one for a year before giving it to me.  She even covers the car insurance so it wouldn’t be a burden on me and my dad.

“Hey Sam, can you stay until close?  It’s the fifteenth which means payday for the military, and they love to come stock up on the protein powder.  This is usually the busiest day of the month.”  I glance around the store to make sure everything is in order.

“Is that what’s going on?  I had to restock the powder a couple of times already today.  One guy wanted to return something, but I told him to come when you’re working.  He said he’d come back tonight,” Sam says.

“Will you straighten up the display of Vitamin C?  Someone turned all the bottles backwards, it was probably a kid.” Sam’s a quirky guy who spends all of his paycheck on body building powder and his spare time in the gym.  He dates a girl I went to high school with, she’s rumored to have appeared in a couple of adult films.  She’s a pretty girl but she can’t carry on a conversation without talking about kinky sex. “I’m going to the back to place some orders, if you need me just call,” I say as I turn to the back of the store.

“Holland?” Sam’s voice booms over the phone intercom causing me to jump. 

“Yes, Sam.”

“That guy is here with the return.”

“I’ll be right there.” 

There’s a guy at the register dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt talking to Sam.  His short light brown hair is definitely Air Force the way it is perfectly squared off on the back of his neck.

 I remind myself that I’m the assistant manager and not to be intimidated. 

“Hi, I’m Holland, what can I help you with,” I ask as I step behind the cashier counter.  Another pretty-boy airman with his deep dimple and flawless skin.  There’s no way he’s much older than I am, that’s good because I don’t typically back down to people my age.  Older guys in the military scare me, they seem so hard and angry. 

“Hey Holland, Sam here told me to come back when you’re here to refund this powder.”

The first thing I notice are his eyes, pale blue eyes…incredibly pretty blue eyes and smile.  The manager-in-training classes I took told me to always hold the customer’s gaze.  They obviously never looked into eyes like his.  It takes everything in me not to shift my eyes away from him.  It makes me feel exposed as if he is literally looking into my soul. 

“Yes sir, is there a problem with the powder?” 

He’s first to avert his eyes and look down at the jug of Mega Muscle Protein Powder.  “It gave me a rash,” he replies without looking up at me.

Most of the guys who come in are embarrassed to admit they ended up with a rash. “A rash?  Do you have a photo of the rash?”  Our return policy on store-brand products are if it gives you a rash, you have to provide a photo.  There’s nothing more disgusting than looking at a rash on a stranger. 

“That rule on your policy is pretty intrusive.  When I read it, I was floored that it was a real rule.”

Here we go, he’ll turn off the charm and turn into a douche.  I’m sure Sam is doing the countdown in his head.  “Yes sir, we must turn in the photo along with the explanation in to our corporate office.  Our policy is for quality control and has nothing to do with being intrusive.  May I see the picture?”
He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through his pictures before holding it up for me to see.  Sure enough, it’s a rash… on his ass!  He took a selfie of his ass rash in the mirror. He is standing in his boxers and holding one side of them down and taking a picture with his other hand.  I need to call Andy and tell her about this, she’s going to die laughing.  Dammit!  I can’t call her, because she’s dead. 

“I need a print of the picture,” I snap.  My mood has gone from good to pissed in two seconds.

“You really need a picture of my ass to give me a thirty-five dollar refund?”

I cock my head to the side, my go-to defense pose when I’m hiding my feelings from the world.  “I didn’t write the rules, but I follow them.”  This is the look Andy called my bitch-face.

“Look, I’m not going to go print off a picture of my ass to get a thirty-five dollar refund.  You can keep the powder and the money.”  He shakes his head back and forth before taking his receipt and folding it up neatly before returning it to his wallet.

I stand at the register and watch him walk out of the store.

“What happened?”  Sam asks.

“Nothing, I’m following policy,” I reply nonchalantly.

Sam looks at me like he wasn’t buying it for an instant.  “Holland, one minute you were okay and the next you flipped and were pissed off.”

“I didn’t flip.”  I gather up my paperwork to tally out our sales for the day.  My dad flips, I just get pissed.

“I think there’s Pamprin in the office, if you need it,” Sam says sarcastically.  Good thing I like him or I’d write him up just because I can.

“I’m not PMSing and just for that, you get to mop the floor tonight.”  Without turning around, I head back to the office.  When memories of Andy pop into my head, I’m reminded how lonely life is without her.  I’ve been going to her grave and sitting there for hours.   She was always my sounding board when it came to my dad, now I feel guilty for all the times I made her listen to me complain.  We should have spent more time doing pranks and laughing at stupid movies.  Now, I’ll never be able to do those things with someone.  Lately, everything reminds me of her and I’ll either cry or get angry.  It isn’t that I’m mad at her, it’s I don’t know when the pain will stop.  My therapist says dumb things like, time heals all wounds, or everyone grieves differently.  The therapist was Aunt Laney’s idea since the health insurance policy she bought for me covers the visits. 

“Knock, knock,” Sam’s voice brings me back to reality.  “Hey, do I really have to mop the floor?  I have plans after work and I don’t want to smell like bleach and dirty mop water.”

“I told you to mop not take a bath.  I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t ever hint for me to take Pamprin again, okay?”

“Deal.  Your Aunt Laney is in the store, do you want me to send her back here?”

“No, I’ll go out there.”


I've thought of myself as a writer for as long as I can remember.  I played grown-up with my family, until everyone grew up and left me to figure out what I really wanted to be.  Jumping over the cliff, I took a leap of faith and wrote my first full length novel, The Legacy of Kilkenny.  My love of young adult books, helped mold me into the writer I am today.  The books I write, reflect the types of books I enjoy reading.  Every story I write will have a huge twist at the end, one that often leaves the reader in shock (no pun intended, if you know me, you know why I say that, LOL).  Thank you for considering to read my books.  Happy reading!

Thank you for having me on your blog!

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Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Promo Blitz Forest Bull 99Forest Bull


Three lovers. Two immortals. One mystery. When Ring Hardigan isn’t making sandwiches for, and with, his two partners, Waleska and Risa (they’re cool like that), he’s got a busy schedule doing the dirty work of sending immortals to the ever after. Wally and Risa provide linguistics, logistics, and finding the right place for him and his knife. A reclusive Baron from the timelost forests of Europe asks for their help—find a stolen collection of jewelry, and find the thief—his daughter Elizabeth, an immortal of purest evil who wants nothing less than control of Hell itself. With the help of a 2400 year old succubus hooker named Delphine, they might just live long enough to what is evil, who is human, and exactly who wants to reign in hell.


Beauty is indeed a good gift of God; but that the good may not think it a great good, God dispenses it even to the wicked. - Saint Augustine


Elizabeth stood with her elegant silhouette backlit by the city at night. One hand absently held an empty champagne flute; the other toyed with the heavy curtains that framed a view of the heart of Paris. Her brown eyes lingered over the city as she stretched her sculptured body in a feline motion that sent black hair falling down her snowy back in a silken rush. Over her shoulder, on the edge of the tangled bed, the girl dressed, pulling boots on her long legs. She was tall, young, and radiant, possibly Czech, a honey blonde in her late teens. Her looks were natural and fresh, but unfinished, where Elizabeth was a classic dark beauty with a commanding presence that only breeding and maturity could grant. Money could buy the appearance of wealth but not the assurance to wear it like a second skin. The girl’s beauty would command the eyes of men wherever she went, but Elizabeth’s would bend their will even as she entered a room. Even a fool could see that the blood of kings flowed in her veins. Standing in heels, the girl met Elizabeth’s height, eye to eye. Around the women, furniture of rich wood gleamed with the luster of wealth. Upholstery, flawless from disuse, covered the beautifully framed items that were tastefully scattered across the rooms. Each room of the suite spoke of money and taste. Even the single lamp that threw muted light from the corner was a model of understated style. The immediate area was in the disarray of harried intimacy. An empty wine bottle, berries on a bone china tray, and the scent of perfume and damp linen testified to the activity of the previous night. At least some Europeans still respected a Do Not Disturb sign, regardless of noise. The sign had also allowed them to sleep the day away, a dreamless sleep of joyous exhaustion. She looked at the girl, who now had her luggage near the door.

“Before you go, are you ready? Do you need anything?”

In the girl’s purse rested a first class ticket to Miami and credit cards, all with no limit. Elizabeth’s tone was light but warm. The girl reddened slightly from the remembrance of the previous week and the life that she was about to begin. She was also flushed from her internal struggle as her body began to change.

“No, I have everything. Thank you. Thank you a thousand times. This is . . . ,” she trailed off as Elizabeth gave the smallest of frowns.

“Something is missing. Here. This.” She held the girl’s hand and slipped a delicate ring on her finger. The diamond was framed on either side by a strange stone deeper than oxblood. Light swirls of silky color danced in the gems. The antique platinum setting was graceful and worn, like an heirloom.

“I cannot -,” the girl started.

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “It was my daughter’s. Wear it, and, when you have a daughter you love, give it to her.”

To a girl of such youth and beauty, children were far away where she was going.

“But what if I have no daughter?” she asked. Elizabeth looked briefly at the window.

“Petra, your life will be one of gifts, giving. And receiving. Men will want you. They will try to own you. All of them, drunk with lust, an endless line of their eyes shining with greed,” Elizabeth gave a wintry smile. “You will appeal to their vanity even as they feed you. Savor it. There is no other feeling like it.”

She kissed the girl on the cheek in dismissal and turned to the champagne bottle settling in the silver urn. “Whether you want to or not, you will be a mother of sorts. Many daughters, I think. And when you find one who meets your mettle, you will give her the ring as a gift. In the meantime, the gift you will give is yourself.”

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Author Bio

terryBorn in 1968, I discovered fishing shortly after walking, a boon, considering I lived in South Florida. After a brief move to Kentucky, my family trekked back to the Sunshine State. I had the good fortune to attend high school in idyllic upstate New York, where I learned about a mythical substance known as "snow". After two or three failed attempts at college, I bought a bar. That was fun because I love beer, but, then, I eventually met someone smarter than me (a common event), and, in this case, she married me and convinced me to go back to school--which I did, with enthusiasm. I earned a Master's Degree in History and rediscovered my love for writing. My novels explore dark fantasy, immortality, and the nature of love as we know it. I live near Nashville, Tennessee, with the aforementioned wife, son, and herd, and, when I'm not writing, I teach history, grow wildly enthusiastic tomato plants, and restore my 1967 Mustang.

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Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Buried by Selena Laurence Cover Reveal!

Hiding from Love series
by Selena Laurence
Releases August 4, 2014
* Stand Alone Novel *

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Seven years ago, Juan Martinez lost everything—his only parent, his home, his life as he’d known it. Alone, lost, and desperate, he turned to the Reyes Hispanos—the RH—one of the most violent gangs in South Texas. But when you sell your soul to the devil, you pay a heavy price. Convicted of a drive-by shooting, Juan has served hard time. Finally out on parole, he wants to disappear—from the RH, from memories of all that he’s lost, and especially from the gorgeous woman who just showed up next door.

Beth Garcia grew up following after her older brother, David, and his best friend, Juan. She always dreamed of a day when she’d be old enough for Juan to look at her as someone other than David’s little sister. But he disappeared at seventeen, after his mother was deported, and Beth thought she’d lost him forever. When she finds him living at the halfway house next door, she knows he’s still the same guy inside. Determined to save him from himself and the RH, Beth sets out to prove that he didn’t commit the crime he was convicted of. But the path to absolution is dark, and even Beth may not be able to discover the real Juan.

Can a man with a damaged soul and a beautiful heart let a woman with fierce loyalty and unwavering love risk it all to save him? Or will his past bury them both this time?

"You're killing me here, you know that, right?" I move a bit closer to her now, almost near enough to touch.

"Then stop fighting it," she whispers. 

I take the last step, leaving only an inch between us, head to toe. I can see the shine on her sweet cherry lips, and smell the cinnamon in her hair. "It'll never work. I'll never be free, and I won't bury you with me." 

She gazes up at me and there's so much trust in her eyes, so much faith and pure devotion, it literally steals my breath away. For a moment in time, everything stops. The birds in the trees, the cars rolling by on the street, the sun beating down on my skin. All of it just stops as if someone hit the pause button. I look into her eyes, and I can't fight it any more than I can fight the gravitational pull that keeps my feet on the ground. 

My head tilts incrementally to one side, and lowers, bit by excruciating bit until her breath feathers across my face and my lips meet hers. I press against their softness, hearing the tiny gasp that she makes. The lipgloss is slick, and I can't help but think of all the other places on both her body and mine that I'd like to make slick. I feel my breathing ratchet up a few dozen notches as my mind goes to static. I haven't kissed a woman since the night before I went behind bars, and my engine is revving at full-throttle. 

But Beth is special—beautiful and strong. If there is one thing I've learned working for the RH and living behind bars, it's how to control myself. When so much around you is out of control, you realize quickly that self-control is one of the best weapons you've got. As much as I want to press Beth up against the wall of the house right now and drive every part of me into every part of her, I don't. I stand stock still, hands fisted by my sides, and I gently, ever so softly, kiss her. 

It's electrifying. Like someone just took a defibrillator to my poor shriveled lump of a heart. It surges to life and screams for freedom—freedom from the past, freedom from the sins, freedom to love this woman. I start to pull away, knowing that touching her more will only make the inevitable loss that much harder, but her hands snake up around my neck and against my lips she murmurs, "No." 

"Beth," I gasp. "We can't." 

She opens her eyes, lips millimeters from mine. Her long dark lashes sweep up and then down once, as she says, "Yes. We can." 

Before I know what's happened we're together from knees to lips, her warm, giving curves molded against me in places that haven't felt this in so long they've forgotten just how amazing it can be. 

I put my hands on her waist, willing myself to keep them there. Her fingers play with the short hairs at the nape of my neck, and even as my dick swells and turns hard as a rock, some kind of tension releases from her mouth to me as I stroke along her perfect white teeth. She tastes like the cherry lip gloss and I know that cherry candy will now be my favorite flavor until the day I die. 

I can feel her nipples harden against my chest and I push my hard-on into her, desperate for relief. She groans and stands on her tiptoes, grinding her pelvis against me as she does. 

My hands move up her sides, my thumbs finding the underneath of her breasts. If there were a form that was considered geometrically perfect, the curve of that sweet spot where her breasts meet her chest would be it. That curve should represent the most complex mathematical equation there is, and God, how I'd love to be the one man to solve it.

The Hiding from Love series

(Nick & Lyndsey)
** 99 cents **
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(Gabe & Alexis)
** FREE **
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(Gabe & Alexis)
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(Juan & Beth)
Coming August 4!
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Selena Laurence is the Barnes and Noble Bestselling author of what she likes to call Edgy Contemporary Romance. Her books have been Amazon Top 10 bestsellers in multiple categories including Multicultural Romance, Hispanic Fiction, Urban Fiction, Military Romance, and Romantic Suspense. Her New Adult romance, Hidden, won the 2014 Reader's Crown Award for Contemporary Romance of the year.

Selena lives in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and spends a hell of a lot of time at soccer games, on her laptop, and reading. She requires a Mocha Latte every day to function, keeps a goldendoodle at her feet most of the time, and has more kids than she or Mr. Laurence know what to do with.

Connect with Selena

Selena is also author of the Lush Series, a story of four high school friends who form the rock band Lush.  Take a ride with rock stars, men, brothers, and lovers, as Joss, Walsh, Mike, and Colin discover what it means to succeed, to fail, to hurt, and to love.

A Lush Betrayal
(Joss & Melanie)
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For the Love of a Lush
(Walsh & Tammy)
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Low Down and Lush
(Mike & Jenny)
Coming Fall 2014

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

We are thrilled to share the cover for The Only Answer, by Magan Vernon!

Title: The Only Answer
Author: Magan Vernon
Age Group: NA
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: 8/11/14


The sequel to the international hit, The Only Exception.

A boy burdened with a family legacy.
A girl haunted by a shattered past.

Both searching for answers to a future threatened by the unknown.

Three years ago, conservative Trey Chapman and liberal Monica Remy met their match in one another - and made the only exception that would change their lives forever.
Now, Trey's father is running for president, forcing Trey and Monica to put aside their personal beliefs to be the model of perfection.

But fate has other ideas, casting the family in scandal.

Some seek to use that disgrace to further their family legacy, while others refuse to let go of the past. Trey and Monica soon find themselves lost among questions that challenge their true feelings. Will they be able to rediscover that the only answer lies with one another, or will they lose each other forever?

Be sure to add The Only Answer to your to-read list on Goodreads!


“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re very persistent?” she said, taking the brush and can.
“Every single day of my life and you love it.” I picked up the other can and brush.
She smiled, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I put up with you.” She turned toward the wall. “You want me to just start painting?”
“Yes. Get a big enough square so we can see if we like that color for the wall. At least one foot by one foot.”
“That’s very precise measurements,” she said, looking at me out of the corner of my eye.
“Always best to be precise, Miss Remy.” I smiled, waiting for her to start painting to I could work on my own.
“Very true, Mr. Chapman.” She finally took her eyes off me and began stroking the brush against the wall.
I wasn’t sure how long it would take her to paint so I had to work fast. I didn’t even care if I spilled on my five-hundred dollar suit coat as long as I got the job done. By the time I was finished I turned fully toward Monica. My nerves were at an all time high and my heart was beating so fast I couldn’t even count the beats as I waited for her to look at me.
Usually she did everything she could to try and beat me. I loved her competitiveness and the way she challenged me. But not today. Now I just wanted her to finish her painting and finally turn toward me. But she wasn’t even looking in my direction. She was lost in thought, meticulously painting the tiny red square on the wall.
I wasn’t one to get flustered but I let out an audible groan. That was when she widened her eyes and finally turned toward me. “What the hell is your problem, Trey?” She dropped the paint brush in her can, red paint splattering on her hands.
I opened my mouth to answer but she cut me off before I could speak. “You rushed me through dinner so we could see your new apartment, an apartment that I’m not even going to really be living in because I can’t get a real job. Then as soon as we get here you’re rushing me to get in the bedroom so you can paint a freaking wall when we’re both dressed up for the convention. I’ve put up with a lot from you and I know you’re nervous about tonight, but you have to freaking relax or you’re going to drive me crazy!”
I cleared my throat. “Okay.” I nodded. “I understand I’ve been on edge tonight, but there’s a perfectly good reason and we can discuss it after I see which paint color is better for the wall.” I stepped back, smiling with my hands in my pocket.
She raised an eyebrow, turning away from the wall and putting her hands on her hips. “What kind of stunt are you trying to pull right now? Are you hiding something? Is this where you  break up with me?”
I usually loved her stubbornness but now Monica was getting to be a little bit too much. I was already on edge and had it all planned out, but nothing was going quite right. Love was never perfect that way, but once I found Monica I learned that things didn’t have to be perfect to work out.
Slowly I extended one hand and kept the other in my pocket. “Just come stand here with me and look at the wall and stop being so obstinate.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What if I said no?”
I took a few steps toward her until we were toe-to-toe. I didn’t say anything. Instead I just smiled and put my hands on her waist, lifting her in the air. She squealed as I walked backwards a few steps before setting her down a couple feet away.
“You’re very persistent, Mr. Chapman.”
I took her hands in mine. “I am when I know what I want and I’ve known that I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. The first time you opened your mouth and spoke to me. I knew there wasn’t going to be anyone else but you.” Slowly I turned her toward the wall and she gasped, removing her hands from mine and covering her mouth as soon as she read the words I painted on the wall: Will you marry me?
I pulled the velvet box out of my pocket and stood in front of her before I got down on one knee and opened the box, holding it open for her. The woman at Tiffany’s told me the diamond cut was called the Lucida after the brightest star in a constellation. She didn’t even need to tell me all of that before I was sold on the square diamond with it’s diamond side stones and  opened curved diamond band.
There something incredibly unique about it. Something that caught my eye. Just like Monica did.
I swallowed hard, trying to focus on my words instead of the tears that welled up in her eyes. These weren’t tears of sorrow like the night she poured her soul to me after Alpha Mu’s barn dance. These were tears of joy. “Monica Remy, It’s been three years since you first walked into my life. Three of the best years I’ve ever had. We’ve laughed together. Cried together. Everything. Together. I can’t imagine my life without you. I picked out this apartment especially so I could share it with you and our future collectively. And I hope that you’ll do me the honor of marrying me.”
I held my breath waiting for her response, counting down each second to my heart beat. Finally she nodded slowly before removing her hands from her mouth. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Yes. Yes. A million times yes!” she said louder.
I couldn’t hold the grin that was threatening to split my face. I put the ring on her finger, slowly standing up before wrapping her arms around her waist. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world tonight, Monica.”

About Magan Vernon

Magan Vernon is a Young Adult and New Adult writer who lives with her family in the insurance capital of the world. When not writing she spends her time fighting over fake boyfriends via social media. You can find her online on 
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