Thursday, 27 August 2015

Not Just Another Romance Novel by Lisa Suzanne


BLURB
Is it really wrong to have more than one boyfriend?

I brought a new one into my bed almost every night.

From conference rooms to broom closets, I escaped reality with my leading men. Okay, so they were fictional book boyfriends.

In reality I should have been concentrating on classes while I looked for a living, breathing man to help me achieve my romantic fantasies. It was a friend who suggested combining my passions for romance novels and psychology to generate my Master's thesis research topic: Does the modern day romance novel leading man create unrealistic expectations for a prolonged adult relationship?

To find out, I’d run a social experiment. I’d be the constant. The variables would be my leading men. I’d date every stereotype in the books, from billionaires to bad boys, rock stars to bikers, dominants, athletes, and…my stepbrother?

If my research was successful, I'd end up with a degree and maybe even my very own happy ending.








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EXCERPT
“What’s that?” Austin asked, snatching my list out of Shannon’s hand.
“The list for my research project. Do you know any men who fit my criteria?” I asked.
He studied the list for a moment before handing it back to me. “I know a few.”
Six eyes turned to Austin. “Who?” I asked.
“I know a rock star. Well, kind of. He sings for a local band, but they’ve got a great following. I know several businessmen, but not any CEOs. I might be able to hook you up with one, though. And I know a few bars around here where your bad boys hang out.”
My jaw dropped. Everyone has that one friend who knows everybody. Austin had lived in San Diego his entire life, so he knew the lay of the land.
“Take me to your bars!” I practically yelled, garnering a glare from students studying nearby. “Sorry,” I whispered.
“Wait a minute,” Shannon said. “I thought of a few you’re missing from your list.”
A few I was missing? I thought I’d pretty much covered all the bases. “Who?”
“You need a Fabio.” She stated it like it was obvious.
“Like a cover model?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Sure. Or like a historical romance guy.”
I laughed. Shannon could be a bit of an airhead sometimes. “Where am I going to find a historical romance guy? We’re in the present tense, Shannon.”
“Duh. Renaissance Festival. And Austin, you seem to know everybody else. Do you know any vampires?”
Laughter bubbled up from my chest. I couldn’t help when it spilled out, and when I looked over at Austin and Scott, I found a similar reaction. Shannon stared at us blankly.
“What?” she asked.
“Vampires?” I asked through my giggles.
“They’re in all the books,” she clarified, only spurring on our laughter. Her brows came together in anger.
My giggles turned into those silent quaking convulsions that I couldn’t possibly control. Scott was holding up his hand as if to tell Shannon to stop while he laughed, and Austin clutched his stomach from the hilarity.
We’d stop for a minute only to glance at one or the other, and then we’d start back up again, garnering more glares from students near us.
Our laughing had to have gone on for at least a full five minutes before we were composed enough to talk about it.
“What?” Shannon finally asked in frustration.
Austin gave Shannon a very serious look while I stifled another wave of giggles. Scott had to excuse himself after a less than flattering snort.
“Vampires aren’t real,” Austin finally said.
“Well, you need a paranormal,” Shannon said, her voice both irritated and completely serious. “How about a werewolf?”
After that comment, it was my turn to excuse myself after a less than flattering snort.


AUTHOR BIO
Lisa Suzanne started handwriting her books on yellow legal pads after she took a creative writing class in high school. She still has those legal pads full of stories, but now one of them is published under the title How He Really Feels. She currently works as a full time high school English teacher, and her favorite part of the year is summer. She has been blessed with the world’s best dog, a supportive family, and a husband who encouraged her to publish after reading one of her novels. She likes the advice of Ernest Hemingway’s famous quote, “Write drunk. Edit sober.”

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Broken Promises (The Broken Road #2) by Melissa Huie


BLURB
The Sequel to the sexy, suspenseful novel The Broken Road.
“Not a day had gone by that I didn’t dream about Shane, that one day he would come home to us. I imagined that our days would be filled with long talks and moments of reconnection, and our nights would be full of hot, sweaty sex. But things weren’t going the way I had imagined. Baby steps, Megan. He just needs to adjust. I couldn’t change the past and we would have to take things in stride. We couldn’t be the same couple we once were, not overnight.”
When Shane Turner shows up at Megan Connors’s carport one rainy night, Megan thinks she’s dreaming. The man who has held her heart since high school, and the father of her unborn child, is supposed to be dead, killed in an explosion at a safe house. But somehow Shane has survived, and Megan believes that with him home safely and their baby on the way, they will finally get their happy ending.
But it soon becomes apparent that all is not what it seems. Shane is home, but he’s brought some demons back with him, demons that Megan can’t fight alone. Shane is a haunted man, plagued by paranoia and distrust. He believes that danger threatens their lives at every turn, and it is tearing their life together apart.
In this compelling sequel to The Broken Road, Shane must deal with the present and the future, with the cartel—and himself. Megan must protect her family and, when the time comes, must make the ultimate decision.
Will Shane and Megan have their happily ever after, or will it just be another broken promise?




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EXCERPT
“Good morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. He wrapped his muscular arms around my belly from behind me, the evidence of his arousal pressed against the small of my back. My breath caught and my heart quickened as he nuzzled the sensitive spot under my ear. Just this one simple act had my core pulsing with liquid heat. His hands roamed north, barely grazing my belly, and tenderly kneaded my swollen breasts. Moaning, I tilted my head up toward his and caught his searing lips with mine.
Abandoning the pan in front of me, I turned and threw my arms around his neck. Passion fueled my body as our lips frantically mashed together. Our tongues clashed, dueling over the right to invade the other’s mouth. Shane’s hands cupped my behind, then gripped hard as he led me over to the table. He swept aside the napkins and papers that covered it and lifted me onto the smooth surface.
Red colored my vision as my primal need took over. Shane pulled off my bathrobe at the same moment I yanked down his sweatpants. My mouth watered at the size of his erection and I eagerly stroked his throbbing, rigid shaft. His head rolled back and he groaned at my touch. There was a time for cuddling and foreplay, but this wasn’t it. His hazel eyes smoldered, and he desperately ripped the thin material of my cotton underwear right out from under me. Craving his touch, his body, his heat against mine, I leaned back on my elbows and gave him the opening he wanted.


ALSO AVAILABLE
#1 The Broken Road








AUTHOR BIO

Melissa grew up in Maryland by the Chesapeake Bay, where her favorite memories took place near the water. Now she lives near Washington, D.C. with her family, dog, and a lot of fish. In between the chaos of laundry, chasing after her three children and trying not to burn dinner, Melissa continues to find her escape by feeding her addiction of reading and writing about love, suspense, and sarcasm.


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Tuesday, 25 August 2015

Blurred Lines by Lauren Layne


BLURB
In a novel that’s perfect for fans of Abbi Glines and Jessica Sorensen, USA Today bestselling author Lauren Layne delivers a sexy take on the timeless question: Can a guy and a girl really be “just friends”?

When Parker Blanton meets Ben Olsen during her freshman year of college, the connection is immediate—and platonic. Six years later, they’re still best friends, sharing an apartment in Portland’s trendy Northwest District as they happily settle into adult life. But when Parker’s boyfriend dumps her out of the blue, she starts to wonder about Ben’s no-strings-attached approach to dating. The trouble is, even with Ben as her wingman, Parker can’t seem to get the hang of casual sex—until she tries it with him.

The arrangement works perfectly . . . at first. The sex is mind-blowing, and their friendship remains as solid as ever, without any of the usual messy romantic entanglements. But when Parker’s ex decides he wants her back, Ben is shocked by a fierce stab of possessiveness. And when Ben starts seeing a girl from work, Parker finds herself plagued by unfamiliar jealousy. With their friendship on the rocks for the first time, Parker and Ben face an alarming truth: Maybe they can’t go back. And maybe, deep down, they never want to.



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EXCERPTS
Most of the time, having a girl for a best friend is awesome.
Among the highlights:
(1) My color-blind self never has to worry about going out the door looking like a sad clown.
(2) The Brita water filter is always replaced on time.
(3) Parker actually likes doing laundry for fun, and she only complains when I sneak my stuff in with hers about 30 percent of the time.
Oh, and as this morning’s adventure displayed, she’s an excellent excuse when a person needs to rid himself of clingy one-night stands.
But then there are the not-so-great parts. Like when she’s spent thirty-five minutes looking at lamps.
“Just get that one,” I say, lifting my arm to point at a random floor lamp as the noisy, child-filled scariness that is IKEA threatens to choke me.
She barely glances at the one I’ve selected. “It looks like a uterus.”
“What the fuck does a uterus look like?”
“Like that lamp. And honestly, for as much time as you spend rummaging around in women’s panties, you really should get familiar with their parts.”
“Isn’t the uterus the—” I break off, looking for the right word to describe the random memories from eighth-grade sex-ed class.
Parker lifts her eyebrows. “The baby cave?”
Like any normal guy would, I wince. “Christ. Why would I need to know about that? I use a condom.”
“Several of them, judging from the state of your bedroom,” she says, tilting her head to study the lime green lamp shade in her hands. “Do you think this would clash with my bedspread?”
“You’re asking the color-blind guy? Like I have any clue what color your bedspread is.”
“Seriously? Don’t act like you’ve never seen it. Two nights ago you flopped onto my bed in your sweaty gym clothes and it took me two washes to remove the man stank.”
I shake my head. “Poor Lance. Do you make him wear a plastic bag when you guys hook up so he doesn’t get his man stank on your sheets?”
“Lance doesn’t have man stank.”
I frown. “Hold up. If I have man stank, Lance has man stank.”
“No.”
I open my mouth to argue, but instead I shrug. That’s another thing you learn having a girl best friend. You pick your battles.
“You have two more minutes to pick your lamp,” I say. “I’m starving.”
Parker adjusts her purse strap on her shoulder. “Oh, I’m not buying a lamp. I was just browsing.”
I inhale deeply to rein in my women suck rampage when I catch her smirk.
“Oh, I get it,” I say as we move toward the end of the store where we’ll pick up my dresser. “This is payback. You’re mad because I made up that story about you having a creepy doll collection.”
“Actually, it was more punishment for destroying the house rules. I’m totally laminating them next time.”
“Or you could just create an online version and keep them in the cloud like normal people born after 1980.”
I see a little lightbulb go on in her head and almost regret giving her the idea. Not that it matters much. I’ve never really followed her fussy rules anyway, although for the most part I try to not be too much of a dick. The towel incident this morning notwithstanding, it’s like I said, Parker loves laundry. I knew she had extra clean ones stashed away.
“Seriously, don’t get that color finish,” she says, shaking her head at the dresser box I’m about to pull off the shelf.
“Wood is wood,” I say with a shrug, starting to maneuver the huge box onto our flat cart.
“No, there’s old-man wood and there’s modern wood.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Old-man wood, huh? You and your kinky fetishes. Do you make the dolls watch?”
She ignores me, and uses her hip to push the box I’d started to move back onto its shelf. “That one.” She points.
“Espresso?” I ask, reading the label.
But Parker is now typing away on her phone. I shrug, pushing her out of the way so I can get at the box she indicated.
“How about tacos?” she asks, glancing up briefly from her phone.
“I just had Mexican last night,” I say through a grunt as I move the box into position.
“You said I could pick.” She gives me a challenging look, her goldish brown eyes practically daring me to argue with her.
“If it was a unilateral decision, why’d you even ask?”
“Unilateral. Good word. And it was a test. You passed,” she says, trotting to catch up with me as she replaces her phone in her purse. “So how did you and Airhead meet? The Beta Phi party last night? She looked like she was eighteen.”
“Airhead?” I ask.
“It was written on her pants. Literally.”
“Oh, right. Those weren’t her pants. Lindsay left them last week.”
She makes a disgusted face as she pulls her long dark hair into a messy bun. I don’t notice most things about Parker as a girl, because, ya know, it’s just Parker, but she does have some damn good hair. It’s all Victoria’s Secret model–-like, long and dark with lightish streaks running through it.
The rest of her is kind of Victoria’s Secret-ish, too, but other than an initial moment of whoa when we first met, there’s never really been anything between us. I guess you could say I like her too much.
That and she’s dating Lance, and I like the guy. I mean, we’re not best friends or anything, but it’s impossible to live with Parker and not have some sort of friendship with her significant other.
Lance and I stop short of braiding each other’s hair, but we watch games together on occasion. I’d never make a move on his girl—even if I wanted Parker.
Which I don’t.
“So let me get this straight,” she says, as I swipe my credit card through the self-checkout machine. “One of your booty calls leaves her pants, which is weird, by the way, and then a week later, an underclassman sorority girl willingly puts them on?”
I shrug and give her a look out of the corner of my eye. “What’s wrong with that?”
Parker closes her eyes and sort of scratches at her eyebrow. “You don’t tell your mother any of this, do you?”
“Sure, we actually have a family blog, and I list my sexual activity for the week every Sunday. Is that weird?”
She ignores me, pulling out her phone again.
AUTHOR BIO
Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance.
Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband that it would only take three). Since then, Lauren's gone on to publish ten books, including the bestselling Stiletto series, with several more on the way in 2015.
Lauren currently lives in Chicago with her husband and spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll find her at happy hour, running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to straighten her naturally curly hair.


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There is a giveaway for an ebook Bundle of Lauren Layne’s REDEMPTION Series

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Wrath (Wrong #2) by L.P. Lovell


BLURB
Tor
Jude Pearson could just as well kill me as kiss me most days. He was my captor, my living hell, and yet, he became my saviour, my heart. Stupid. He’s heartless, conditioned to feel nothing, and so I ran... straight into the clutches of his enemy. Joe Campbell wants Jude to suffer, and I just became a pawn in a very dangerous game.
Joe has broken me in every way, everything that I once was stripped away, and in it’s place is festering hatred and a rage so cold I feel nothing else. I have one purpose. Revenge.
Jude
Love makes you weak, it makes you irrational. She was collateral, completely innocent when she was unwillingly dragged into my corrupt world. With the damage I’d already caused her, I couldn’t let her love me, so I let her go, and now...he has her.
No matter where she is, she will always be mine. This man has taken every-fucking-thing from me, and he has the last thing that matters to me. I will kill him. Slowly. Joe Campbell better run because the devil is fucking coming for him.
Sometimes two wrongs can make a right.
Rage.
Hate.
Revenge.
Our Wrath binds us, but it may also break us.

REVIEW
I received a ARC from the author in exchange for a honest review.
4.5* read.
Wrath starts off exactly where book one ended so you really need to read the first book to understand this one and fully appreciate it the brilliance of this author. I have to admit I'm not really a dark kind of girl, I'm a girlie girl who loves sweet romances with HEA. This is so far out my comfort zone but I absolutely loved it. Its dark and twisted and I'm so glad I took a chance on the first book. Actually the reason I bought the first book was because of the cover, it stood out to me grabbed me and I had to read it. Since then I've been eagerly waiting for book two so when I was given a chance to get a ARC I jumped at it.
At times this book is really hard to read its so dark and it makes you feel so much emotion and there's so many twists and turns your on the edge of your seat. Its full of violence and dark twists and turns but my god its so brilliantly wrote that you never want it to end. Its hard to say much more without spoiling it for people so I'll leave it a that but if you like dark books that grab you and pull you in you need to read this.

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ALSO AVAILABLE
#1 Wrong





LP LOVELL
Lauren Lovell is an indie author from England. She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards.
She's a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be suffering from slight peen envy.

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STEVIE J. COLE

Stevie J. Cole is a secret rock star. Sex, drugs and, oh wait, no, just sex. She’s a whore for a British accent and has an unhealthy obsession with Russell Brand. She and LP plan to elope in Vegas and breed the world’s most epic child.

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