Friday, 31 July 2015

CHAPTER REVEAL - Getting Hot by Mia Storm




Rules of engagement:
1) You have the right to use force to defend yourself.
2) Fire may be returned to stop a hostile attack.
3) You may not seize the property of others to accomplish your mission.
4) Detention of civilians is authorized in self-defense.

Delilah Morgan and her older sister Destiny have been on their own for two years, since their parents burned down the family home and went to jail for cooking meth. She’s street smart and tough. Nothing about her says sixteen, and she’s not about to tell anyone, especially Bran, the hot ex-marine bartender Destiny has her eye on. He’s stable and successful and everything her sister needs to keep them off the street. The only problem, something about Bran inspires her and suddenly she’s writing the best music she ever has. About him.

Branson Silo knows what it means to be in the line of fire. Home for a year from his second tour of duty in Afghanistan, he thinks he’s safe…until he meets Delilah. Despite her sharp tongue that makes him want to take cover, he can’t deny the attraction. But when he hires her to play weekends at his family’s saloon, he finds out she’s more than he can handle…which is saying something considering he used to blow things up for a living.
When the grenade finally explodes and the shrapnel flies, will Bran be left standing? Or has he survived years at war only to be taken down by Jail Bait?



Chapter 1
Bran

I shouldn’t have fucked her last week. That was my mistake, and I feel like a douche—something I’m not used to.
I watch Destiny tuck a long strand of platinum hair behind her ear with her pen as she finishes taking drink orders at the table near the door. She shoots me a secret smile when she turns and makes her way over, and I mentally shoot myself for getting caught looking. This train’s already careening down the track, barely holding onto the rails, and when I pull shit like this, it only picks up momentum.
“We got Hendricks?” she asks, slapping her order on the ancient mahogany bar between us.
I look over the order. “Closest thing I got is Tanqueray.”
The smile falls off her face and she blows out a sigh. “I’ll ask him.”
I follow the curve where her tiny waist blooms into a killer ass as she turns and heads back to the table.
She’s hot. That’s what it boils down to. When I took her home last week, it was after her first training shift with Carol. We’d sat at the bar and knocked back a few after closing and I got caught up in everything she had going on. I totally missed the signs. I didn’t see that she was looking for more than a hookup until after it was too late—until she didn’t leave after we’d done the deed.
The only guy at the table with three women—some total wannabe with a dark suit jacket over a turtleneck and pressed jeans—scowls and gives Destiny some lip. I can’t hear what he says over the piped in Kat Country, but she shrugs and says something back, then offers me an apologetic squint when the guy pushes up from his seat. He starts my direction on polished loafers, but his eyes widen slightly and he pulls up short when he sees me.
The reaction’s not unusual. When I left for boot camp six years ago, I was already in decent shape. I was Oak Crest High’s first ever (and only, as far as I know) four sport athlete all for years—football in the fall, wrestling in the winter, and baseball and track in the spring. Which is probably a big part of the reason my grades weren’t good enough to do anything but enlist. But the Marines made all that training look like fucking Romper Room, and it was only a matter of weeks before my bulk didn’t fit into any of my old clothes anymore. Since Pop owns the local gym and my sister Brenda runs it, when I’m not working behind Mom’s bar at the Sam Hill Saloon, I spend most of my time lifting weights. I’ve managed to stay in pretty decent shape…which means guys like this pansy ass are generally intimidated. Course, the tattooed six-foot-three thing doesn’t hurt the intimidation factor. Since I let my dark flattop grow out, I look more like a biker than an ex-Marine.
After a beat, his shiny shoes start moving again but he stops three feet short of the bar, out of my wingspan. “Tanqueray or Tanqueray number ten?” he demands, putting on a “big man” show for the women he’s here with.
I step aside to show him the rack behind me and he flinches a little at my movement. “For top shelf gin, Tanqueray’s what I got.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales his disappointment, then scans my top shelf again. “Tanqueray isn’t even in the same league as Hendricks.”
I shrug. “You want the citrus, I’d go with the Seagrams. Something drier, I’ve got Beefeaters.”
He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling as if my suggestions are all so far below him he’s afraid of getting a nosebleed if he has to look all the way down at them. “Just give me the Tanqueray. Make it a Tom Collins so I don’t have to taste it.”
He stalks back to his table and drops into his seat as I start on their order.
Destiny comes over and watches me mix. “That guy’s a jerk,” she say with a flick of her eyes back toward the wannabe professor. “Thank God he’s Carol’s to deal with in fifteen.”
“You’re giving Carol the tip?” I say with raised eyebrows.
Her lip curls. “Guys like that don’t tip.”
I lift my eyes to him as I shake his Tom Collins. “He give you a hard time?”
“He thought I should’ve known what kind of Tanqueray we have.” Her face scrunches. “I didn’t even know there were different kinds.”
I glance at the table again. City folk for sure. Probably up here in the foothills for something at the college. “Guess he didn’t realize he’d wandered out of his natural habitat.”
She busts out a laugh as I pour his drink into the highball. “So, I was thinking…” she says when her laugh dies. “I could swing by your place when you get off. If you want.”
“Listen…” I start, setting the drink on her tray. But just as I open my mouth to tell her I don’t do relationships, Mom shoves through the swinging door from the kitchen. Five years in the Marines and two tours in Afghanistan, and I’ve yet to come across another single person who intimidates me…except my mom. She makes some of my Marine COs look like kindergarten teachers.
“Hey Vicky,” Destiny says. “Has Carol punched in yet?” She tosses her eyes at Mr. Hendrick’s. “I’m giving her that table as soon as she does.”
“She just clocked in,” Mom answers, glancing suspiciously at the table. “What’s the issue?”
Destiny shrugs a shoulder and picks up the tray of drinks I slide across the bar to her. “That guy needs to get over himself. Carol’s better at dealing with people like that.”
It’s the “take no crap” chromosome in the Silo family gene pool. My cousin is almost as intimidating as Mom. She has a way of putting pricks like that in their place without them even realizing how it happened.
Just as I’m thinking it, I see her pass by the porthole in the wooden door to the kitchen, pulling her dark curls back into a ponytail. A second later, she pushes through the door.
She looks at the three of us and her eyes narrow as she slings her short, black apron under her bulging belly and ties it. “You guys do know that when everyone clams up and stares at you when you walk into a room, that’s a dead giveaway they were talking about you, right?”
“All good, cuz,” I say, lifting one hand in surrender while picking up my bar rag with the other.
She gives us a glare that could fry bacon. “I’m not fat.”
“No, you’re not,” Destiny says, handing her the tray of drinks. “But I’m punching out and I need you to take that table.”
Carol’s gaze shifts to the table in question. “What’s wrong with them?”
“The guy’s a sanctimonious prick,” I say wiping down the bar. “He needs to be reminded his shit still stinks in the way only you can.”
A slow smile pulls at her mouth and she takes the drink tray.
“He’s the Tom Collins,” Destiny says. “The chardonnay is for the girl on his right and the Cosmos are for the other two.”
She bats her eyelashes and starts toward the table. “Coming right up,” she says, all breathy and sweet.
Mom turns to me once she’s gone, her frown deepening. “I came out here to remind you to put a note in the drawer if you pull petty cash, Bran.”
I give her a dubious smirk. “Really, Ma? I’ve been doing this for almost a year. Think I’ve got the drill down by now.”
“Well, the drawer came up exactly sixty short last night. So how else do you explain that?”
I feel my brows lift. My drawer’s never off by anything more than a few pennies. “You sure you didn’t pull it for the wine order?”
She scowls at me and crow’s feet crease the corners of her eyes. “I might be old, but I’m not senile yet.”
For her age, I have to say Mom looks pretty damn amazing. She met Dad sometime in the stone ages, when she used to dance at a strip club in San Francisco, and even still, I can see why he picked her out of the crowd. She’s got a deep worry line at the inside corner of her right eyebrow, but otherwise her face is deceptively youthful. The only thing that gives her age away is the skunk stripe that starts on the left side of her forehead and winds through the sea of dark hair pinned onto the back of her head like a the first swirl of cream into black coffee.
“I didn’t take any cash, Ma. Seriously.”
She sighs wearily and rubs her eyes. “It’s been a long day. I’ll check the numbers again tomorrow morning when I can think.”
I lean down and give her a peck on the cheek. “’Night, Ma.”
She hooks her elbow around my neck and yanks me in for a hug. “See you tomorrow, baby boy.”
She’s the only one I’d ever let call me baby or honey or any shit like that because, like I said, I’m a little scared of her. I watch her disappear through the kitchen door.
And then it’s just Destiny, waiting for an answer.
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I turn to her. “Listen, Destiny. There’s no question you are fucking amazing, and I had an awesome time the other night…but I feel like you might have gotten the wrong idea about what this is.” I drop the bar rag and splay my hands on the bar between us, holding her gaze. I may be a dick, but I’ve got a moral compass that points in the right general direction most of the time. She deserves to be told straight up. “I’m not the kind of guy that does relationships, and even if I were, you wouldn’t want one with me.”
It’s not like I expect her to whine or beg. I’ve only known her for a week, since Mom hired her for day shifts, but she seems generally more together than that.
What I also don’t expect is a shameless smile to spread over her face as she leans closer. “So, are you saying that pounding me until I scream your name is too much of a commitment?”
I blow out a laugh and give my head a slow shake. “This isn’t how I pictured this conversation going.”
She pushes away from the bar and unties her apron. “I’ll be back before closing. Maybe have a drink or two. And when you leave, if you take me with you, you won’t be sorry. If not…” She shrugs. “…no harm no foul.”
I watch as she disappears through the kitchen door behind Mom to punch out. Carol drops another drink order on the bar on her way to the kitchen and I go back to work.
The Friday evening crowd picks up and it’s not long before all the tables are full and patrons start lining the bar. I dim the lights—the closest we come to ambiance.
The Sam Hill Saloon has been here since the gold rush, when the town of Oak Crest was established as a mining camp. After they got married, Dad brought Mom out here and bought her this bar to keep her “busy,” since he didn’t want her taking off her clothes for horny men anymore. She got it in the divorce and has run it for the last thirty years, but the truth is, almost nothing here has changed for nearly three quarters of a century. There are pictures on the walls of grimy gold miners lined up at this very bar. Even most of the chunky wooden barstools and tables have survived. At some point, some owner lined the front wall under the windows with three booths, and Mom added a big-screen TV, but other than that, it looks exactly like the pictures. And there’s the faint stench of stale beer emanating from the floor planking that no amount of bleach will ever get out.
But it’s a landmark, and the only bar in town, so we’re usually busy.
I’m blending a pair of frozen daiquiris with one hand and shaking a martini with the other when out of the corner of my eye, I see a solo blonde slide onto the barstool at the end, near the beer taps. I finish what I’m doing and prepare the tray for Carol to pick up before glancing over and seeing its Destiny.
A guy in the middle of the bar makes eye contact and nods at his empty beer mug. I grab it and start filling without really looking up at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you again till closer to closing.”
“Sorry?” she says. “Are you talking to me?”
The voice is off—slightly raspy and a pitch lower than her usual. I look up again and squint at her, wondering if she’s already started drinking. She’s taken her straight hair down from the ponytail she always wears it in and it’s not as long as I remember it from the other night—the only other time I’ve seen it down. There’s also a fading blue stripe cutting through the platinum over her right ear that I’ve never noticed before.
“What can I get you?” I ask her instead of pushing it.
I’m already reaching for the vodka and cranberry to start on a Madras, her drink of choice last week, when she answers, “Rum and Coke.”
“That’s different,” I mutter, shooting her another glance.
She gives me a puzzled look. “Look, I really just wanted to find out if you hire entertainment.”
My face mirrors her puzzlement, I’m sure, as I try to process her statement. “Why?”
She hunches to the side and pulls something up from her feet. I see it’s a battered black guitar case when the narrow end peeks over the top of the bar. “Because I need a gig.”
“Didn’t know you played,” I say, pushing her drink across the bar to her.
That baffled look is back as she pulls it toward her and takes a swallow. I can’t help following the curve of her long neck downward toward a pair of large round tits perfectly outlined by her snug, low-cut T-shirt. She is definitely hot, and if we’re on the same page, then I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. She wants me to fuck her till she screams? I’m perfectly capable of that. She sets her drink down and catches me staring. She cuts me that wicked smile again, causing my cock to stir. I return the smile, sending the innuendo right back at her.
She props her elbows onto the bar and leans forward, giving me a clear look down her shirt. “Considering that we’ve never met before, I don’t find that surprising.”
I’m so absorbed in images of my face buried in those magnificent tits that it takes me a second to process what she said.
My eyes snap to hers. “Wait…what?”
She reaches across the bar, offering me a hand. “Lilah.”
There’s a full second all I can do is stare, wondering if this is one of those split personality things you hear about sometimes. And in that second, through the dim lighting, I take in all the tiny details—a dark mole at the outer corner of her right eye; her eyes, silver instead of blue; the missing white crescent-shaped scar above Destiny’s right eyebrow; and lips, a little fuller than I remember—which are smirking at me now.
“You’re not Destiny,” I say as it all clicks.
It’s not a question, but she shakes her head. “No. I am most definitely not Destiny.”
“Twins?” I ask.
She cocks her head playfully. “What do you think?”
“You’ve got to be. You’re fucking identical except for the eyes.” I tap my forehead. “And you’re missing a scar.”
Her perfect blond eyebrow raises in amusement. “She’s the pretty one and I’m the smart one.”
I bark out a laugh as I reach across and shake her hand. “Bran Silo. Good to meet you.”
She doesn’t let go of my hand for a second after we’re done shaking—just long enough to send a clear message that she’s interested.
A knot forms in my gut, and I realize it’s guilt. Destiny and I have an understanding, but regardless, I’m pretty sure fucking her sister would be way outside the bounds of gentlemanly behavior. Not that anyone would ever mistake me for a gentleman. “Destiny never mentioned she had a sister.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” She takes another drink, nearly polishing it off in a few big gulps.
I tip my head at it her glass. “Another?”
“My limit is one,” she says, pushing her glass toward me. “Just Coke this time, thanks.”
Carol sweeps by on her way to the kitchen, dropping an order on my bar. “Thought you left,” she says to Lilah without slowing down. “Careful or your favorite customer might ask for you,” she adds, jerking her head at Mr. Hendricks as she disappears through the swinging door.
I bark out a laugh as I scoop ice into Lilah’s glass and fill it with Coke. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”
Lilah shrugs. “Happens all the time.” She slides out of her chair, lifting the guitar case. “So do you want to hear me play or what?”
I look around the crowded room, loud with chatter, drowning out the background music. “We don’t generally have live entertainment,” I say, which is really an understatement. We’ve never had live entertainment. But for some reason, I’m not willing to shut Lilah down so fast.
When my eyes find her again, annoyed impatience shines loud and clear out of her gaze. “So that’s a no?”
I feel my mouth pull into a cocky half-smile. “I didn’t say that.”
She opens her case and pulls out her guitar, unabashedly climbing through the window I left ajar for her. I watch as she sets herself up on the stool and rests the guitar in her lap, gripping it softly but confidently. She starts strumming, and I expect her to be discrete, since this is basically an audition, but there’s not a shred of self-consciousness or embarrassment anywhere in her disposition as she begins to belt out lyrics—an old No Doubt song that I can’t remember the name of.
The way she plays, as if on instinct; the passion in her voice, and the fact that she’s really fucking good, starts to turn heads at the tables closest to us. As they quiet and listen, more tables still, and soon the only thing she’s competing to be heard over is the Kat Country on the speakers. But she doesn’t decrease her volume. If anything, as eyes find her, she becomes louder, feeding off the attention.
I reach under the bar and click off the stereo, then lean onto the back counter and cross my arms, listening as she finishes one song and launches into the next.
A guy at the bar pulls a five from his pocket and flags me down with it. I grab his beer mug, but he shakes his head. “Is there a tip jar?” he asks with a nod toward Lilah.
I pull a fresh mug from under the bar and he slips the five inside, then I set it at the end of the bar near Lilah. She cuts me a smile and her eyes slide down my body as she sings.
And fuck me. I lean my hands on the bar and press against the lower counter when my dick won’t yield to my will. Without a doubt, everything Destiny has going on, Lilah’s got that and more.








EACH BOOK CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE
Getting Dirty
Getting Played
Getting Hot - Release 17 August 15



About the Mia Storm:


Mia Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending. Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite. Connect with her online at MiaStormAuthor.blogspot.com , on Twitter at @MiaStormAuthor, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MiaStormAuthor

Thursday, 30 July 2015

RELEASE DAY & REVIEW: Tangled Bond by Emma Hart




Buy Links

 

One date with the sexier-than-sin Detective Drake Nash. Simple.

Until you take into account that my brother finally proposed to his girlfriend, so Nonna is on a warpath—and the crazy old bat has Cupid by the balls.

The upcoming mayoral elections has everyone running on full speed, and while I couldn’t give any less craps about the corrupt Holly Woods mayor’s office, a dead body in the middle of a campaign speech has me thrown right into the middle of it. The victim is close to the mayor, but all he cares about is minimizing the damage to his campaign, so he hires me to work alongside Drake to close the case as quickly as possible.

Bad news for our tentative relationship.

We disagree far more than we agree, but being at loggerheads won’t get this murder solved… Or deal with the arrival of someone from his past.

The mysteries behind the murder aren’t the only things unraveling, and despite being knee-deep in lies and corruption and bonds so tangled they’re almost indecipherable, I have to figure out if I’m willing to fight for Drake the way I do justice…

Or if he’ll be my one who gets away.I’m an Italian-Texan woman in a family full of cops. I’m passionate and shoot before I think. You only f*ck with me if you’re stupid.





“We’re both fools, Noelle.”
I take a deep breath and look down at my hands clasped around the mug. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I just…”
“You’re not used to anyone other than your brothers stepping up and protecting you.”
I hate it when he’s right. Really, really hate it.
He closes the slight distance between us and gently takes my hands from the mug. “Hey.” He touches his fingers to my chin and lifts it, making me look at him. “I get it. I already told you I don’t want someone who needs saving. But saving and protecting are two vastly different things, cupcake. I don’t care if you need protecting from a killer or some sleazeball hitting on you because he’s loaded and wears fancy suits. I’m gonna protect you, whether you like it or not. I’m not afraid to stake my claim where dicks like him are concerned. One-up me on solving murders every day of the week, but don’t be mad at me for doing what feels right. Nothing matters more to me than protecting you, bella.”
Of all the things he calls me, I’ll never let him know how much bella affects me. Because just about every time he says it, I stop breathing. It’s always at that moment when my heart is already pounding.
“I know.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not apologizing again though.”
“I’m surprised you said sorry once.”
I purse my lips at his wide grin. “It won’t happen again.”
“I didn’t think it would.” His eyes spark in amusement. “I’m sorry too, but I can’t help it if your badass gene pisses off my alpha complex.”
“My badass gene is laughing at you.”
“My alpha complex wants to smack your ass.”
I grab my purse, put it over my butt, and walk backward. “Nope. That’s not how we’re starting today.”
“You’re right.” He stalks toward me with a lusty glint in his eye. “We’re gonna start it like this instead.”
He slams me back against my front door and I drop my purse. He dives his hands into my hair and seals his lips over mine. Fireworks erupt across my skin as I curl my fingers around his neck.
He devours me, plain and simple.
“Now,” he breathes, smiling. “Now, we’re gonna go and get some work done.”
I flick my thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away the smudge of my lipstick. “Now, we are.”






Review By Angela

5 Stars

So first things first, my addiction for cupcakes has resurfaced. I thought I had it under control but reading this clearly I was wrong!!

Noelle & Drake...I love them. I love their witty banter, when they argue, when they threaten each other and basically just them in general.

This book is just as good as the first if not better because you have a feel for all the characters this time round and it just makes it all the more enjoyable.

The way your write Emma is just amazing, the things that are swirling around in that head of yours just amazes me. The way you bring your characters to paper I will never know but every time I read one of your books I'm left wanting more!

If you haven't read Twisted Bond yet, your missing out and need to get on that quick and be ready for the greatness that is Noelle & Drake in Tangled Bond.

Was given an ARC in exchange for an honest review.



Photograph cheating spouses. Hand over the evidence. Cash my check.
That was my plan when I returned home to Holly Woods, Texas, and became a private investigator.
Finding the dead body in my dumpster? Yeah… Given the choice, I think I would have opted out of that little discovery, especially since all three of my brothers are cops. And my Italian grandmother is sure the reason I’m single is because of my job.
Of course, my connection to the victim is entirely coincidental. Until I’m hired by her husband to investigate her murder and shoved bang-smack into the path of Detective Drake Nash.
My nemesis, a persistent pain in my ass, and one hell of a sexy son of a bitch.
Shame he still holds a grudge from that time I shot him in the foot twelve years ago, or we could have something. In another life.
So now all I have to do is avoid my nonna’s blind dates, try not to blackmail my brothers into giving me confidential police files, and absolutely do not point my gun at Drake Nash. Or kiss him. Or jump his bones.

All while I hunt down the killer.
Sounds totally simple—until a second body proves that sometimes things that start as coincidences don’t always end up that way…


(Twisted Bond is book one of the Holly Woods Files series and while it does not end in a cliffhanger, it is not a standalone.)



By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies - usually wine - and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.




RELEASE DAY LAUNCH & GIVEAWAY - Lukas by Carian Cole

Lukas RDL

Lukas-ebook-cover 

Lukas Synopsis

Storm’s younger cousin. Vandal’s little brother. You’ve met him in the background. The sweet one. The nice one. The one they can all rely on. The good one. He’s a tattoo artist. He plays metal and classical music - on the violin. He’s got a body built for sin. He’s 24. In comes Ivy. She’s a 36 year old single mom who hasn’t dated in 18 years. All she wanted was a tattoo. She got a helluva lot more :) Being good has never been so bad.  

 Amazon| Banes and Noble | Kobo 
 Vandal, book 2 in ASHES AND EMBERS Amazon | Barnes and Noble  
Storm, book 1 in ASHES AND EMBERS Amazon | Barnes and Noble    

Exclusive Excerpt

He leans his head down closer to mine. “You looking at me like that, and saying my name like that, just makes me want to kiss you even more.” I swallow hard, unable to tear my eyes away from his. “You really shouldn’t be saying things like that,” I breathe, my voice quivering. He’s got my nerves in overdrive. Hell, who am I kidding? He’s got my entire mind and body in overdrive right now. He moves his hand to cup the side of my face. “Close your eyes, Ivy. Let’s make our wishes at the same time.” Lukas is a wizard, and I’ve quickly fallen under his spell. My eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch mine, so softly that we are barely touching at all, but it’s enough to make me see even more shooting stars, this time behind closed eyes, in that place where magic happens. His kiss is completely unexpected but way too perfect to break away from. I drop my bag to the ground and bring my hands up to rest on his shoulders. He kisses me a little harder, his tongue gently touching my lips, silently asking permission for more. Parting my lips, I let him kiss me deeper, his tongue slowly meeting mine, caressing in enticing circles. The feel of his tongue piercing and lip ring is so strange to me, yet incredibly erotic. I think I like it. His hand goes to my hip, pulling my body possessively but gently against him, as his kisses grow more passionate and urgent. My legs begin to shake with timid desire, my hands squeezing his muscled shoulders, hanging on to him in this sudden dizzying realm he’s led me into. Did a first kiss ever feel like this before? Has any kiss ever felt like this before? No. Not for me. Not ever. He oozes skilled sensuality; every touch, every breath, every kiss is measured in perfect timing and depth. This is not an awkward, clumsy, rushed and horny boy touching me for kicks. Not by a long shot. He’s savoring everything. And I don’t want him to stop. Grasping my waist with both hands, he effortlessly lifts me up onto the hood of my car, bringing me closer to eye level with him. He moves between my parted legs, guides my thighs around his jean-clad hips, and covers my mouth with his again, kissing me long, deep, and tantalizingly slow as he gently holds my face in his hands. It’s the kind of kiss that brands complete want and ownership. He leaves no doubt that he wants me. The logical part of me is telling me to stop him, but the lonely, aching part of me takes over, and I slide my hands up his chest and over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck. My fingers tangle in his long silky hair, and I love how new and different it feels. Everything about him is so different, like tasting an exotic food for the first time that quickly leads to crazy indulgence. That magnetic pull I felt the first time I laid eyes on him is a force to be reckoned with right now. It’s controlling me, taking over every part of me, squashing my fears and reservations, and paving a very clear path that leads directly to this man. I cannot even begin to understand or make the tiniest bit of sense of this attraction. But it’s there, and it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. Suddenly, he stops kissing me, his lips just a whisper away from mine, and stares into my eyes for a few moments, before letting his dark eyes slowly close as he pulls me closer against his body, his hard cock pressing against me through our clothes, sending a hot surge of raw desire through me. What I glimpsed in his eyes shook me even more than his kiss. All feelings that carry the ability to give immense pleasure and pain. Neither of which I am ready for. I slowly try to pull myself away from him, but he holds me close against him. “Wow,” I say breathlessly, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Come upstairs with me, and let’s see if we can upgrade that to a holy shit,” he whispers, his hand resting on the back of my neck, gently squeezing.   

Carian Cole Bio:

  carian-225x300 

I have a passion for the bad boys, those covered in tattoos, sexy smirks, ripped jeans, fast cars, motorcycles and of course, the sweet girls that try to tame them and win their hearts. My debut series, Ashes & Embers, follows the lives of rock band members as they find, and sometimes lose, the loves of their lives. My first novel in the Ashes & Embers series, Storm, published on September of 2014. Vandal, the second novel in this series is publishing in February of 2015. I currently have approximately nine books slated for this series, as well as an MC series in the works, and a few stand-alones coming in 2015 onward. Born and raised a Jersey girl, I now reside in beautiful New Hampshire with my husband and our multitude of furry pets and spend most of my time writing, reading, and vacuuming.  


Enter Carian’s giveaway!! a Rafflecopter giveaway  

Tuesday, 28 July 2015

RELEASE BLITZ - Illicit Temptation by Janine Infante Bosco


Illicit Temptations
by Janine Infante Bosco
Release Blitz


Synopsis: 
Michael Valente...

My father was the Underboss of an organized crime family. He was murdered when I was a teenager leaving me broken. My mother died in a tragic accident, her death annihilated me. My life was in shambles until Victor Pastore, one of New York’s most notorious gangsters and my late father’s best friend, recruited me to work for him.
Everyone expected me to walk in my father’s shadow, to be the prodigal son, the next big thing to hit the mob. I was torn between filling those expectations and walking the straight line my mother wished I had. Nothing made sense and I felt as if I was just passing through life.

The only beacon of light in my otherwise dark world was the one girl that was off limits to me. The one girl who could bring me to my knees consuming my mind, body and soul.
She’s the sweetest temptation I’ve ever known and the most illicit.
Nikki Pastore....
My father’s a gangster. My boyfriend’s is the king of New York’s nightclubs. I am often labeled as Vic’s daughter or Rico’s girl, never just Nikki. I struggle for people to acknowledge me for the woman I am and not for the men in my life. I’m fighting a losing battle.
There is only one person who sees me for me, my Mikey.
He’s wild.
He’s reckless.
He’s hot as hell.
He’s completely unattainable, but oh so tempting.

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About the Author:


Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Now in her early thirties Janine is dedicated to her family, her boys the lights of her life. In her spare time, she wrote the Riverdale Series a labor of love and family that she is so very thrilled to share with you. Hope you enjoy the Lanza’s.

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REVIEW TOUR: Pandemic Sorrow Series by Stevie J Cole

Pandemic Sorrow Series on Tour
(all 3 books are available individually or in a box set)
Genre: Contemporary Romance 
by Stevie J Cole
 
Pandemic Sorrow are on Tour.
 
Oh Boy this is going to get messy!
 
Jag & Rush are taking the band on tour they will be sharing their sex crazed and downright dirty life with you all.
 
The life of a rock star is dirty but someone has to do it.
 
Start with Jag Steele. the lead singer and guitarist of the band Pandemic Sorrow, and he has a drug problem. 
 
He’s Famous, a rock star, a legend, drug addict & womanizing man-whore.
 
Then there is Rush, it’s his job to play music that makes girls wet, and then to screw a select few of them. 
 
He is a professional rocker. He’s rich, famous and one lucky son-of-a-bitch. He has everything - except control.
 
Come and meet the band if you are brave enough ladies in this exclusive interview:
 
Interview written exclusively for the Blog Tour
 
Stevie J. Cole on what it would be like to interview Pandemic Sorrow.
“They’ll be in a few minutes, Tiff. You ready?”
I nod and smile. “Yeah.” Shit. I’m nervous.
Todd opens the door to the conference room but stops to look back at me. “They’re a lot to handle. Just don’t….provoke them or anything.”
“Provoke them, what are they freaking rabid animals?” I laugh.
His gaze trails down to my chest, and his lips lay flat across his face. “No, that’s enough to provoke them. Might want to pull that up a little.”
I huff, and Todd walks out the door. Muffled voices filter through the other side of the door, laughter. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’ve interviewed countless rockers since starting at this magazine company, and I have never been this anxious. I mean, hell, it’s Pandemic Sorrow. Jag Steele, Stone Steele, Rush…and that drummer whose name I can’t ever remember. Jack, Travis…Pax!
The door swings open and my breathing ceases for a second.  Jag struts in. I have never in my life seen a man with so much swagger. He’s dressed in a tight black v-neck, jewelry draped all over him, and his jeans—my eyes instinctually fall to his crotch—holy shit, those pants are tight. 
I‘m so focused on how tight Jag’s pants are that I completely miss the other guys trail in and take their seats.
“It’s real, wanna touch it?” Jag chuckles and I feel my entire face redden.
“Ah, no. Nice gesture and all.”
He shrugs and yanks out his chair, turning it around as he adjusts his junk before straddling it.
I sit, staring around the room. I realize I must look like a complete idiot, and I clear my throat. “So, let’s start with a simple question for each of you. What was the driving force behind your pursuit to fame?
Jag’s lips curve in to a delicious smile. “Pussy. Lots of pussy.”
Rush laughs as he leans over the table toward me. “For me,” his eyes skim down to my low cut top, “the promise of nightly orgies.”
Oh, fuck. I am in for it. I need to divert my attention away from these two whores. Where’s that drummer? I eye Pax, who’s not even looking in my direction. His chin is slumped to his chest, and all I can see is his spikey blonde hair. I think he’s asleep.
“Uh, Pax?” He slowly raises his head. “What drove you to fame?”
“I dunno, money?
“I actually have a worthwhile answer, unlike these shitheads.” Stone taps his fingers on the table. “I wanted to do something everyone told me I couldn’t.
I can’t stop the ridiculous smile making its way over my lips. Damn, Stone is hot. Those brown eyes, those cheekbones, that hair. I’m swooning, not going to lie. “Okay, next question is for Rush. Rush, if you had to be something besides a rock star, what would it be?
“Oh, that’s easy.” He stands up, grabs the edge of the table and pelvic thrusts against it so hard it scoots an inch across the floor. “Hands down, a porn star. James Deen can go fuck himself because his measly nine inches don’t have shit on my man-cock.” He laughs as he collapses back down in his chair.
I giggle, and his face goes all serious.
“No, really. A porn star.”
Jag shoves him so hard he knocks him out of his chair. “Rush, you couldn’t be a porn star. You don’t have any fucking stamina.”
“I’ve got loads of stamina.”
“Like shit you do—”
“Hey!” I shout. They both turn to look at me, and for a moment, I’m afraid I just really pissed them off. I timidly clear my throat. “Next question. Stone, what’s it like working with your brother?”
He smirks. “I mean, when I’m not babysitting his ass, it’s tolerable.”
Jag is too busy making lewd hand motions at Rush to be offended by that, so I go on to the next question on my list. “So, guys, what’s it like to be Pandemic Sorrow? It must be incredible to be so famous?
Pax shrugs as he mumbles, “It’s cool.”
Rush tosses his hands in the air. “Fucking amazing! Are you kidding me?” He shakes his head as he grins. “I can’t even explain to you how amazing this shit is. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out I’ve been in a coma or something, and that I’m still just fucking up drive-thru orders at Burger Boy.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.” Stone nods. “Surreal. That may be the best word. It’s surreal. It’s weird to be flipping through the radio and hear your song on there. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like I am that dude.”
I smile politely. I love all of his down to earth comments. Unlike the other perverts in this room, he seems so adorably sweet. I glance over at Jag. It seems like he has checked out momentarily. He’s staring down at his hands as he fidgets with one of the rings on his finger. “Jag, what about you. What’s it like to be so famous?”
He glances up at me, his face completely void of any emotion. “Oh, uh. It’s great. Really.” Pausing, he wipes his hands down the legs of his jeans. “You know, paparazzi following you around, so you can’t even shake your dick without it making a headline. Always a party, always a show, always fans screaming at you. Yep. Couldn’t be better.”
That didn’t seem authentic in the least. Honestly, he looks miserable. What do I say to that? Nodding, I say, “I can’t imagine. It must be tiring.”
There’s an awkward silence. I flip through my tablet and find the next question. “So, we had some fans write in with questions they wanted you guys to answer. One fan asked that each of you describe your perfect mate.” I look over at Rush. “Why don’t you go first since you want to be the porn star and all?”
His lips curl, his eyes twinkle, and then he smirks. “A girl that likes company in the bed. Kinda like—” He narrows his gaze on me as he arches a brow. “You gonna publish all the stuff I say, right?”
“Yeah, unless you ask me not to.”
“Oh, no. I want this in there more than anything else I’m gonna say.” He clears his throat, smiling proudly. “A complete freak, kinda like I imagine Jules would be. She’s our assistant manager. We all know she likes being treated like a dirty slut.”
“Uh, Rush, you probably shouldn’t—“
“Oh, no, she expects shit like this. Seriously though, I need a freak.”
Jag groans. “Yeah, sure, Tink looks like a freak. Rush, she looks like she’d be a damn lame lay.” He leans over the table as he thumbs his lip piercing. “I need a girl that would put me in my place every once and a while.”
“That’s a good answer, Jag.” I turn to Stone and my cheeks heat. “What about you?”
“Honestly, I can’t even think about that. I’m so consumed with my career, I know I would be a shitty boyfriend, but I do like short girls.”
Yep, swooning again. “Pax, what about you?”
He shrugs. God, he has no personality whatsoever. “Oh, just give me a girl that hasn’t been rammed by these three fuckers and I would be good.”
Jag flips him the bird. “Fuck off, Paxton.”
“You sick of sloppy seconds, drummer boy?” Rush asks as he shoves him.
Pax swats Rush’s hand away. “Fuck you dick dribbles, don’t get all pissy just because I didn’t want to join in for your orgy last night,” he shouts.  “I don’t like slapping dicks with you sick fucks.”
I can feel my jaw hanging open. They are arguing with each other; yelling, cursing.
The next thing I know, Stone is waving his hand in the air to get my attention. “Tiffany?” He whistles.
I glance over at him, and he is sitting there so relaxed like none of this phases him. He smiles sweetly at me. “I assure you, none of them know how to use their dicks the way I do.”
Oh, hell. Compose yourself, boo. I think I’m getting sweat stains under my arms! Oh, crap! I hear a loud bang. Jag just threw Pax on the floor, and Rush is laughing. This is a disaster. Smile, smile…
Stone stands and walks over to me. “They’ll knock each other out eventually. And while they are…” he swats a stray piece of hair from my face. “Why don’t I go knock the fuck outta you?”
I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but this is Stone Steele. I take another quick look at the three guys rolling around on the floor, then eye the door.
“Come on, you pretty little thing.” Stone barely touches his warm lips to mine before pulling me toward the door.
I am most likely going to get fired from the magazine now, but I don’t really care. I mean, who in their right mind would turn this guy down? 
 
 
Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)
WARNING: This novel contains explicit language, sexual situations, and is the story of an addict. This material is intended for a mature audience. 

"My name's Jag Steele. I’m the lead singer and guitarist to the band Pandemic Sorrow, and I have a drug problem. Well, I mean it's not really a problem – unless you count the fact that I almost made my heart explode from all the blow I shoved up my nose a few weeks back..." 

That was my introduction during my first stint in rehab. I'm messed up. If you asked anybody who I am there’s a list they will go down: Famous, rock star, legend, drug addict, womanizing man-whore, but if you asked me, I wouldn't have the first idea of what to say, because I don’t know who Jag Steele is. Really, I’m living every other damn person's dream, and all I want is reality. 

Roxy Slade, that girl was my reality. My brutally flawed and beautifully broken reality. And she hated everything I stood for. To her I was just one of “those guys”, and she’d rather be buried alive with poisonous snakes than give someone like me a piece of toilet paper to wipe their ass with. Brutal. Life. Is. Brutal. And it is just a giant pain, which is why I chase after anything to make it numb, anything that can fill this void. I just want anything that can make me not feel. I just don't want to feel.
Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1BxtOWs
 
 
Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2)
It’s my job to play music, to make girls wet, and then to screw a select few of them. I’m a professional rocker. I’m rich, I’m famous, I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I have everything - except control.

The industry owns me. And the only thing I have a minuscule grain of control with is women, but not that dominate, tie you up and gag you kind of control. No, I want to govern how I make them feel. I need them to feel like a goddess while I’m in them, and I love being able to control the fact that they’ll never really have me. Love is complicated. It is bullshit. And even if I thought I needed it, the rules of being a rocker won’t allow it. 

Sex is all I need. 

I don’t need love.

But for some reason I want her. For some reason I can’t get her out of my mind. And lately, every time I’m with any girl besides her it feels wrong.

I can practically have any woman I want, but I can’t have her. She’s off limits because she’s part of that industry that owns my ass. 

Sex was all I had.

And sometimes I thought maybe love was all I needed…with her
Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2)
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1IqHz0t
 
 
Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3)
My life had been no fairy tale. Actually, growing up, it had been something more like a nightmare, which is why I ended up so hard. When you don't want to hurt having the ability to be numb is your best defense mechanism. And for a long time all I was doing was existing.

Jag Steele, the lead singer of the international rock band Pandemic Sorrow, was the epitome of everything I despised: arrogant, entitled, but the thing I hated most about him was that he was an addict. Drugs had been the demon that had ruined everything in my life, and anyone who had a love affair with them pretty much made my stomach turn. It brought up memories I wanted to stay buried. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly a fan of Jag.

Funny thing is, people aren't always who you expect them to be. Never in a million years would I have thought the night I meet Jag would have any significance on the rest of my life, but it did. 

I found out that sometimes something that screams utter destruction might actually be your saving grace.

Some people may say our story is too screwed up to be a romance, but for two broken people, we made the pieces fit together perfectly.
Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3)

 

Pandemic Sorrow Series (Jag, Rush, & Roxy 3-in-1)

Three-in-one rocker boxset. 
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The life of a rocker is gritty, and for the boys of Pandemic Sorrow, it's exhausting. Their existence is one of sleepless nights, binges with drugs, and the daunting task of pleasing women...lots and lots of women. Life is one endless party, and for both Jag and Rush, it's a path of utter self-destruction. 
Warning: Jag and Rush are from a male point of view, and are very...male. They are vulgar and explicit and may have to work their way through a few fans before they find a woman who can tame these rocker's inner whore. All books contain explicit language and sexual situations. 
Box Set:
 
 
 

Reviews By Angela

Jag #1
5 Stars

So first off this is NOT your average Rock Star read. It is a very different version where there is  drugs, anger, pain and sometimes you just get so drawn in the story its rips you apart.

The way this story was written is flawless, I was so consumed by it that I didn't know what to do after it.

I had actually read Rush which is book 2 and at the time I felt the same reading his story but I had questions and issues with a few things not realizing I had skipped a book. So reading Jag and knowing Rush made it even better me in way.
I kinda knew what I was getting myself into and the way Stevie writes and come away loving an hating her all over again. lol

Overall a great read but not for the faint-hearted.

Great work Stevie!

*Was given an ARC in exchange for an honest review*


Rush #2
 5 Rock 'n' Roll Stars

Okay so if you haven't read Rush by Stevie J Cole you need to get on it quick...
She is Amazing at writing Rock Stars.
She takes on a journey where you just get lost in the characters and forget where you are (well me anyway)
The characters and flow of this book were written well.I felt like I was there and felt the emotion, anger & happiness from all the characters.

Am definitely a new fan of Stevie and will be reading future books from her. I recommend you read this if you like rock stars.

Well done Stevie!
 *Was given this book in exchange for an honest review*


Roxy #3 
5 Brilliant Stars

First this is book 3 in the series and can be read as a standalone,but I suggest you read the previous 2 books in the series to get a better sense of the story.

OK so this is Roxy's POV and we get a look into her life, which was not very pretty growing up at all.
Without giving to much away, this story once again has drugs, pain & you see some abuse from her past and how she came to be the person she is today.

It was a very emotional read for me, at times I had to take a break and get refocused but I loved it all the same.

Not your everyday rock star romance but defiantly a series that either needs to be read now or added to your TBR

Great work once again Stevie on taking me again on a journey through your brilliant writing, I'm still recovering.

*Was given an ARC in exchange for an honest review*
 
 
 
 
Meet the Author
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.
Facebook
http://www.steviejcole.com/
https://twitter.com/StevieJCole
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