unVerified Sales Blitz #Giveaway

Today we have the sales blitz for unVerified by Kristin Giese! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!

Title: unVerified

Author: Kristin Giese

Genre: Contemporary Romance

About unVerified:

Matthew Milles-Lade, a rich kid whose trust fund is suddenly in question, and Margo Valentine Melon, a writer whose career fizzled before it sparked, are two twenty-something strangers stuck living at home, trying to figure out their lives. When they each come across a real estate listing for a palatial (and significantly underpriced) guest house in one of LA’s toniest neighborhoods, their lives get turned upside down. What happens next has them racing to catch the truth before it catches them.   Unverified has all the magic and making of the rom coms you love, set in the world of social media stardom and online fame, with just enough real world stakes to make it a page turner you won’t be able to put down.  

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Exclusive Excerpt:

“Kirby, when do you move in?” Maureen Melon shrieked as Margo walked into the kitchen. “Did you hear that M&M? Kirby bought a house!”   “Wow,” Margo said flatly, greeting the news with the same enthusiasm as dental work.   “I close next week. And then after that,” Kirby trailed off, lost in a haze of euphoria before exclaiming, “I’m gonna be a homeowner at 24! Can you believe it?”   They both looked at Margo with stars in their eyes.   “I can’t,” Margo echoed dryly…   Margo had moved home as a stopover after a failed stint at Popler, the holy grail of fashion magazines, but that was four years ago now. She’d nabbed the position her senior year and crammed her entire world into two checkable duffel bags and flung herself across the country to a rundown studio in Harlem. In real life it was 246 square feet of worn walls and sloping floors.   Perfection, Margo had thought the moment the door swung open. Her first day, she arrived ready to run the place. But, after eight weeks of only filing, running errands, and fetching coffee, she surmised she wasn’t being used to her fullest. So, with an abundance of entitlement that she mistook for confidence, Margo marched into her boss’s office. Lennox Stanton sat before her picking apart a vegan burrito like a vulture clad in Balmain as Margo launched in: “People say you have to start at the bottom, but I don’t think that applies to everyone. Some of us are meant to start several rungs up. I’m happy to get your coffee every once and a while, Lennox, but I’d like to be given more challenging duties if I’m expected to remain in my position.”   Five minutes later, Margo was on the corner of 45th and Times Square holding the contents of her desk, three packages of Little Debbie snacks, and a fake cactus. Lennox Stanton had fired her.   Her parents had encouraged her to bootstrap a way to stay in New York. “I’m not just taking any job, Dad,” she’d protested. “I wanna write, not wait tables.” The next day, she bought a ticket home. “It’s fine. I’ll take this time to write,” she informed her parents as she hefted her suitcase off the baggage carousel. Their worried glances said they weren’t so sure.   Kirby, on the other hand, skyrocketed. While waiting in line for coffee in between her classes Kirby had met a coding student, David, from the technical school across the street. Together, the pair formed a resale fashion start-up, Blush & Bashful, selling Kirby’s vintage finds. Surprising even to them, it took off and took them with it. Kirby went from a girl with no professional drive to driving a Mercedes in two short years. As far as Margo was concerned, that ride, metaphorically and literally, was supposed to have been hers.   “Earth to Margo!”   Margo shook free from the memory to find her mom passing Champagne flutes through the window that connected their dining room and kitchen and robotically grabbed them. She lapped the table placing one flute at each seat.   “What do you mean a channel?” she asked as Kirby joined her relay team, falling in rank behind her, placing napkins at each stop.   “I mean a channel, AN ACTUAL CHANNEL. I’ve already started shooting videos for the site, and we’re changing my title to editor in chief and style director. Can you believe…” Margo halted. Kirby smashed into her back. “What?” Margo asked indignantly. “You’re an editor in chief just because some coding school dropout gives you the title?” Kirby’s face crumpled.   “MARGO!” her mother reprimanded. Silence stood like soup in the room.   She knew she should stop but didn’t. Couldn’t. “I’m the writer. Not you. What have you ever done? I mean, really, Kirby? Seriously?” she asked, each word punctuated with accusation.   “You made eyes with a guy in a coffee shop who wanted in your pants and somehow you parlay that into a self-professed editor in chief title. You’re such a fake. And….”   “THAT’S ENOUGH!” Hank Melon boomed from the doorway. “Margo Valentine Melon, you will not speak to your sister that way. What has happened to you? You’re the one who quit. Not me.   Not your mother. Certainly not Kirby. You. You gave up. You threw in the towel. And yet here you are trying to hang all of us with it. I don’t think so, young lady.”   His words stung, mostly because they were true. Margo wanted to yell at them, like a child who drops their ice cream and then shouts at everyone standing around for what was their own mistake. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, placed the remaining flutes on the table, and rushed out.   “Margo?” Kirby started behind her.   “Give her a minute.” Maureen grabbed Kirby’s arm.   Carved into the side of the hill halfway down Beverly Crest sat Coyote Café, a small sliver of an establishment that was easily missed thanks to its hidden façade, so much so that Margo had missed it. She had to go down the hill and turn around, driving back up to locate it. She waited for one of the only spots in the lot that her beat-up Bronco would fit into. When she walked into the café, she stepped in a puddle of water. Damn it! Chelsea’s McQueens!   “What can I get you?” he asked.   Margo felt herself relax, the anger shaking free from what had just happened up the hill. “Ain’t that the truth,” she said, smiling at his positivity.   Margo rattled off her order and paid at the register.   “Take a seat.” He pointed to the booth. “I’ll get that right out to you. Want any pastries?” he asked, as he began to grind coffee beans, gesturing with his head toward the counter brimming with cake stands. “We make ’em homemade daily. I get up at 4 a.m. just to do it.”   Margo looked at the counter and spied the pile of at least ten croissants under an elegant glass cloche. She thought of Mix’s request for the flaky and buttery baked goods. “Nope, all set,” she said as she took a seat.   As Margo sat in the oversized walnut booth, a flood of anger and uncertainty washed over her. Universe, God, Beyoncé, Oprah, give me a sign of what I’m supposed to do. I thought I was on the right path, but I don’t know. I just need a sign of what to do next, of where I belong….    

About the Author:

 Kristin Giese is a talent manager, brand developer, and executive producer who began her career building the entirety of the Nate Berkus brand, amongst other talent as well as partnering with the likes of The Oprah Winfrey Show, OWN, Sony, Target, TLC, NBC, P&G, GMC, and so many more. Born and raised in Ohio and a proud Shelby Whippet, Kristin’s love for estate jewelry is only outmatched by her commitment to vintage kimonos and her family. Unverified is her 1st novel. Follow her on Instagram @allmoxie.  

Connect with Kristin:

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest

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Twisted Lies Book Blitz #Giveaway

Twisted Lies
Kai Juniper
(Twisted Pine Academy, #1)
Publication date: November 26th 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance

You don’t belong here.
That’s what they said when I showed up at Twisted Pine Academy.
As if I wanted to be there. I’d do anything to go back to my life in New York instead of living in California with my eogmaniac uncle and his spoiled-rotten sons.
The only good thing about being here is Jackson. Hot-as-hell and filthy rich, he ditched Twisted Pine to play football for Legion, the rival public school. Now everyone at Twisted Pine hates him, especially my cousin, Braden, which makes me want Jackson even more.
Braden rules Twisted Pine and everyone in it. If Braden finds out I’m with Jackson, he’ll use his power to ruin me.
Let him try.
My loyalty is with Jackson, and I won’t let anyone tear us apart. Together we’re going to take down Braden and his kingdom at Twisted Pine.
They think I don’t belong there? I don’t. But now that I’m here….watch out.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Hey!” a guy yells.
I look over and see the guy walking toward me from his house. He’s big, like a football player. The guy has some serious muscles. He looks like he’s around my age or a year or two older.
“You can’t be here,” he says, stopping in front of me.
“Where? The beach?”
“It’s private property,” he says, putting his hands on his hips, making him look even larger.
“I live here,” I tell him as I stand up.
“Where?” he asks, like he doesn’t believe me.
“Down there,” I say, pointing to Brock’s house, although you can’t really see it with the bend in the shoreline.
“Then you need to stay there. On your own property. This is mine, and I don’t allow uninvited visitors.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? I can’t even walk on the beach?”
“Not on this part. It’s private property.”
“It’s a beach. I should be able to walk on it.”
“And I’m asking you not to. If you can’t follow that simple rule, then I’ll need to call the cops.”
I huff. “Are you kidding me?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he asks, staring down at me.
As I look at his face, I feel like I’ve seen him before. Why does he look so familiar?
“Have we met before?” I ask.
“You slammed into me on the street,” the guy says, folding his arms over his chest. “So in addition to trespassing on my property, you also almost tripped me when I was running.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, mimicking his pose. “I went to pick up my phone and didn’t see you.”
“How can you not see someone coming right at you?”
“I was upset, okay?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe you should give people a break, especially when you don’t know all the shit going on in their lives.”
“What shit are we talking about?” he asks, sounding curious.
“Nothing. Never mind.” I sigh. “Am I allowed to walk across your precious beach to get back?”
“Yes, but that’s the last time. I don’t want to see you back here.”
I look behind me at the long stretch of beach. “What if I want to keep going? Do I have to go in the ocean to avoid stepping on your beach?”
“That’s private property too.”
“The ocean is not private property. You can’t own the ocean.”
“Why is this so hard for you to understand? You shouldn’t be back here. Even if it wasn’t private, this isn’t a walking beach. It’s rocky and the waves are unpredictable. If you want to walk by the water, go to a real beach. A public beach.”
“Why would I do that when I have one right here? I don’t care if it’s rocky. I have shoes on.”
“Would you stop arguing with me and just go?” he says, raising his voice.
I glare at him. At those beautiful blue eyes. That chiseled face. If he wasn’t so mean I’d think he’s hot. I might even say he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. But his attitude ruins it.
“Fine! I’m going!” I turn and run off toward the ocean.
“What are you doing?” he yells as I go in the water.
“You told me not to walk on your stupid beach!” I yell.
“You’re gonna drown!” he yells, running toward me.
“I’m not gonna—” I’m stopped by a wave slamming into me and shoving me to the ground. The water pulls me toward the shore, dragging me along the sharp rocks. I feel my shirt lifting up to my bra, the skin on my torso exposed, the icy water hitting it.
“Help!” I manage to yell as another wave hits me.
Strong hands lift me from the water, sweeping under my back and legs and carrying me back to shore.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the guy says.
I can’t answer, coughing up the water that went in my mouth.
Still carrying me, he walks toward the rocky ledge just below the back of his house. He gently sets me down on my feet but keeps his arm around me.
“You okay?”
“No,” I say, shivering as the wind blows. “That water is really cold.”
He hesitates, looking up at his house, then back at me. “We need to get you inside.”
“Inside your house? You wouldn’t even let me on your beach, which is why I’m now freezing to death and bleeding.”
“Bleeding?”
I point down to my knee which has blood running down it.
The guy keeps a hand on my back as he bends down to inspect my knee.
“Shit, you really got scraped up.” His eyes move over my body, then his hand goes to my abs, which is still exposed from my shirt riding up.
I suck in a breath as his thumb sweeps just below my bra. “What are you doing?”
“Wiping the seaweed off.” His hand swipes over my stomach, causing a ripple of pleasure through the area just below it. “You’re covered in sand.” He stands up. “We need to get this cleaned before it gets infected.”
“WE?” I glance down the beach. “Um, yeah, I’ll just head home and do it there.”
“You’ll never make it. You’re a mess. I’ll get you cleaned up, then take you home.”
He wants me to go in his house? I think I can trust him, but I’m not sure. I just met him.
“I’m just gonna head home.” I take a step and pain shoots from my knee, like there’s a rock stuck in the skin that’s scraping me every time I move.
“I really think you should come inside,” he says. “You might’ve damaged your knee.”
“It’s fine.” I take another step. More shooting pain. “Shit,” I mutter, biting my lip.
The guy comes in front of me. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” I say, cringing from the pain. “I just need to go slow.”
“You can’t even walk. Let’s go inside.”
“No. Really. I’m fine.”
He cocks his head. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Afraid?” I nervously laugh. “Why would I be afraid of you?”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks in my eyes. “I’m trying to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I stare back at him. “Said the killer before slaying the victim in his secret lair.”
He laughs. “Secret lair?” He points to his house. “Does that look like a secret lair?”
“The secret lair would be inside the house, like a hidden room.”
“There are no hidden rooms,” he says, holding back a smile in an attempt to be serious. “I promise.”

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Meet Me In The Strange Book Blitz #Giveaway

Meet Me in the Strange
Leander Watts
Published by: Meerkat Press
Publication date: March 27th 2018
Genres: Coming of Age, Fantasy, Young Adult

2019 IPPY SILVER MEDALIST – YOUNG ADULT
Meet Me in the Strange is an intoxicating adventure set in a glittery, retro-futuristic world of glam rock, spectral aliens, and gender-bendy teens. Davi is mesmerized by a girl at a concert, who appears to lose herself in the power of the otherworldy music of Django Conn. Later, through a chance meeting, Davi becomes friends with the girl, Anna Z. She is like no one Davi has ever met: she loves to talk, talk, talk and has grandiose theories of the next evolution of humans and a strange phenomenon she calls the “Alien Drift.”But danger lurks around every corner, because Anna Z is on the run, and her cruel and controlling older brother is determined to find her, at any cost. Davi faces a daunting decision, go on living a safe existence at the magical Angelus Hotel, which has been in the family for generations, or help Anna Z escape her troubled past. When the two take off to follow the concert tour of their glam-rock idol, Django Conn, Davi and Anna Z will face the biggest threat of their young lives.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

Now available in paperback!

—

EXCERPT:

It was like she’d lost everything. Her name, her voice, any idea who she was or what she looked like, who the people were around her. The only thing that mattered was right there in front of her on the stage.
We were up close—masses of glam-girls and glister-boys all reaching out at the air like we could feel the music in our hands and pull it into ourselves. Wild kids pushing and pulsing with the music. Not really dancing. But it was music and bodies, so what else could you call it?
And it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen because the girl was gone—not just freaked or blissed-out. She’d let go, totally, of everything.
I got that first glimpse of her about halfway through the show, and it was like I was split right down the middle of my skull. One half was still there with the rest of the crowd, the band like the Horses of Apollo carrying me upward with the fiery sound. And one half of me was zapped by seeing this girl, like a knife juiced with electricity cutting into my brain. She was gone, vanished, disappeared inside herself.
I was cranked up like all the other five thousand fan-kids who’d come to hear Django Conn, and see him and feel him. Some of them had dyed orange, cockatoo haircuts just like Django. Some—boys and girls—had eye makeup, silvery mascara, and big, shiny slashes of lipstick, dangly earrings and platform shoes, feathers and fishnets, and the whole glam look. But this girl was different.
She had glasses, ordinary eyeglasses. They were steamed over and caught the spotlights from the stage, oozy reds and liquid purples. Her hair was black, long and damp in snaky-sexy locks that clung to her face and her neck. And just for a second, I thought she looked like somebody who was shipwrecked, drowning in a sea, dying almost but okay with that, or more than okay, letting the waves sweep her up and away.
I don’t remember what she had on. Doesn’t matter. Was she pretty? Maybe. Beautiful? Doubtful. Amazing? Absolutely.
She wasn’t one of them, not exactly, trying to look like, trying to be Django. And neither was I, even though I’d been waiting months for this show, and I loved Man in the Moon in the Man more than just about anything in the world. I’d been listening to the new album nonstop for weeks, my new diamond needle wearing out the grooves.
For the song “She’s the Hype,” the lights went into a wild black and white strobe. Off and on and off and on, pulsing, slamming, stuttering. And the girl kept appearing and disappearing. Not like a ghost all wispy and see-through. In flashes, for a second or two, she was solid, real, realer than anything. It was like the light itself was a drum, pounding light hitting the crowd in sudden bursts. I got a glimpse, and then she was gone. Then back again, broken up into frames like an old film, flickering in and out of reality.
Nobody was paying attention to other people. Nobody but me. All eyes were on Django, and all ears were blasted by the band. So when the girl lost it, when she totally lost it, I was the only one who saw and got it. Private, secret, just me and her alone, even though we were surrounded by five thousand others at the Maxima. Just me and her in that secret place.
The band got hotter, and the crowd got wilder. Django got fiercer, jumping into “I Asked for Water but She Gave me Gasoline.” And I lost sight of the girl, like the tidal waves pushed us apart, a couple of pieces of broken driftwood in a blackwater storm.
Django did all my faves: “I Fear No Venom,” “Girls Will Be Boys,” “Empire of Light,” “Pavlov’s Daughters.” They finished up with “Flash Bang Baby.” And then Django vanished in a sudden cloud, like a puff ball when it bursts and shoots that cloud of dust-spores into the air. It was like he blew up right there in front of five thousand fans. One second he was singing the last line from the last song on Man in the Moon in the Man, over and over again: “You’re all I’ve ever had!” Then the band crashed to the end of the song, and it looked as if he’d exploded. It was just a stage trick of course, lights and smoke like a magician uses to cover up his best illusion. But Django blew up and the dust spores whooshed out over us, a cloud of powder pink and velvety violet, and that was the end of the show.

Author Bio:
An avid musician, Leander Watts has played and sung for decades in a wide variety of bands. His interests range from garage rock to skronky jazz, from baroque organ to Appalachian gospel. The first rock concert he attended was David Bowie on the Diamond Dogs tour in 1974. He teaches writing and literature at the State University of New York at Geneseo (his alma mater). Leander Watts is the author of STONECUTTER, WILD RIDE TO HEAVEN, TEN THOUSAND CHARMS, and BEAUTIFUL CITY OF THE DEAD.

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Falling for Christmas Book Blitz

Falling for Christmas

by Jody Holford Publication Date: December 2, 2019 Genres: Adult, Holiday, Romance

Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon

Georgia Meyers business may be sweets but that’s not what she’s looking for in a man. In fact, she’s not looking for any man. Running Sweet Georgia, her candy shop in the center of Angel’s Lake, is her priority. Police officer, Cam Andrews is known for being a good cop and a shy man. Meeting Georgia, he’s not only smitten but impressed. When a handsy Santa tries to grab more than her holiday suckers, Georgia quickly puts him in his place. With her knee. Cam and other officers arrive just in time to see she doesn’t need to be rescued. Georgia’s new life plan is all about staying focused on business. She has no intention of acting on her growing feelings for the charming police officer. Cam’s not a casual kind of guy. Georgia insists she’s not a forever kind of girl. Cam respects Georgia’s wishes about not pursuing the attraction between them, but when her shop is vandalized, he closes the distance. In a professional capacity. As more incidents happen, Cam is convinced Georgia has made an enemy. She might want to deny their snowballing feelings but he won’t ignore his sworn duty to protect. Even if she was, there’s something she’s not telling him that could put them in more danger than getting caught under the mistletoe.

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About Jody Holford

I’m a mom and wife first and many things after. I’m a best friend and a regular friend. A daughter, sister, auntie, and a teacher. I am a book lover, a shopper, a pajama-wearer, movie-watcher, worrier, over-thinker, and a wanna-be-good-Samaritan. I’m a Gemini, a nervous talker, and an emotional writer. I am represented by Frances Black of Literary Counsel.

Jackal Book Blitz #Giveaway

Jackal
Harley Wylde
(Devil’s Boneyard MC #1)
Publication date: October 12th 2018
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

Josie: I spent an amazing three days with Jackal before he disappeared, back to his club, the Devil’s Boneyard. He’d made it clear what we had was a temporary thing — he never wanted the picket fence and kids. I was fine with that. Then I faced the scariest thing ever. Telling my big brother, Tank, a Dixie Reaper, I was pregnant and alone at the age of nineteen. He wanted to go after Jackal, but I wouldn’t let him. I wanted this baby, and I knew Jackal wouldn’t. I never expected to see him again. Funny how fate has a way of surprising you.
Jackal: I’ve thought about Josie often since I walked away from her over two years ago. When I’m finally back in Dixie Reapers territory, I knew I’d look her up, see if we could have some more fun. I never counted on the little girl glued to her hip, or the fact the kid was mine. So I did what I do best. I ran. But now I want something I’ve never wanted before. My family. Because Josie and our daughter, Allegra, are exactly what’s been missing in my life. I just have to do some groveling and hope she’ll forgive me. Easy, right? I’ve never had a woman tell me no.
Figures the one I want more than anything might be the first to send me packing. But when she gets an unexpected visitor who threatens her and our child, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Now that I’m ready to keep my woman and kid, I’m not letting anyone take them away.
WARNING: Lots of over the top hot sex, an alpha biker who just can’t seem to get it right, and an adorable little girl who will steal your heart. Guaranteed HEA. No cliffhanger.

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99¢ for a limited time only!

—

EXCERPT:

I got on my bike and went in search of Tank’s house. The car parked in the driveway of the green house looked to be the same one that had been outside the clubhouse that night over two years ago. I killed the engine on my bike and walked up the porch steps, then knocked on the door. A slightly curvier Josie opened the door, her hair up in a messy bun, no make-up on her face, but fuck if she didn’t look gorgeous. Her hips seemed a little wider than before and her breasts looked bigger too. She damn near took my breath away, and I knew I was staring. There were dark circles under her eyes, and there was a yellow smear on her tank top, but I ached to reach for her.
I smiled. “Hi, Josie.”
Her eyes went wide and she stepped outside, pulling the door mostly shut behind her. She cast a nervous glance into the house before facing me again.
“What are you doing here, Jackal?”
“I came to help Zipper and I wanted to see you.”
She nervously looked over her shoulder again through the crack in the door, pulling it closed a little more before looking at me. Something was up, but I didn’t know what. I knew Tank wasn’t in there, so who was? Was there a guy in there she didn’t want me to see? I hadn’t really thought about her hooking up with someone while I was gone, but I should have. A beautiful redhead like Josie? She probably had men falling at her feet.
“You should go,” she said.
“Go, but… What’s going on, Josie? Are you pissed I didn’t call?” I glanced at the door, anger burning in my gut. “Is there someone else?”
“Please, Jackal. I can’t do this right now.”
She stepped back inside, careful that I wouldn’t see into the house, then shut the door. I heard the lock click and her footsteps wander away.
What the fuck was going on?

Author Bio:
Harley is the international bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers and Devil's Boneyard series.
When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can't deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you've come to the right place.
Harley Wylde is the "wilder" side of award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith. For fans of Gay Erotic Fantasy Romance, Harley/Jessica also writes as Dulce Dennison.
Check out Harley's other books, and read some random facts about the author, at harleywylde.com.
Follow Harley on Amazon to be notified of new releases, or sign up for her newsletter.

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Charleston Buzz Kill Book Blitz #Giveaway

Charleston Buzz Kill
Tom Turner
(Nick Janzek Charleston Mysteries, #2)
Publication date: December 1st 2019
Genres: Adult, Mystery

When one of the stars of the boozy, risqué reality show, Charleston Buzz, takes a bullet to the head in mid-tryst, homicide cops Nick Janzek and Delvin Rhett swing into action. Within twenty-four hours they have five suspects…problem is all of them have solid alibis.
Meanwhile, across town, is that a clandestine brothel being run by the fat cats of Charleston?
And what’s with all those college girls hanging out there?
As new partners Janzek and Rhett stumble along looking for a break, it becomes clear that some of Charleston’s most prominent citizens are up to their eyeballs in it all.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Vermelle LeGare had one of the oldest, most prominent surnames in Charleston. Fact is, the nicest street in Charleston was LeGare Street—pronounced Le-gree, as in Simon. Close seconds being Tradd and Church Streets.
Vermelle, though, was black and poor, a fifth-generation cleaning lady. Her husband, Willie, had just dropped her off at the corner of Broad and Church—a ten-minute walk to the house on Stoll’s Alley where Vermelle was working that day. Willie’d dropped her there because he had a big roofing job that day and didn’t want to be late. Vermelle didn’t point out to Willie that his being on time would make her late for Mr. David.
Mr. David was David Wayne Marion, a rich, handsome fifty- year-old man. Vermelle knew just how rich he was because his net worth had been published in an article in the Post & Courier when he took an ill-fated run at becoming governor. Seventy-five million, mostly in real estate, she recalled.
After he lost in his bid to become governor, Mr. David veered off in a whole different direction and—of all crazy things—ended up becoming the star of a TV reality show. He had money, looks, and success, so fame was all that was left. But Vermelle had seen the show and… well, she intended to keep her opinion to herself.
She walked down Church Street and marveled once again at the beautiful houses on the street shaded by live oak trees with their wide, majestic canopies. Her favorite was a four-story brick Georgian with a dark mahogany door and antique glass fanlight above it. The house had graceful pediments above the windows and a perfectly proportioned wall to its right. On the second floor was a classic piazza where she imagined the husband and wife sipped their sloe-gin fizzes as soon as the clock struck five. Maybe earlier.
On the next block, she passed the garage door of an elegant Federalist-style house and chuckled to herself at the angry red letters stenciled onto its garage: Do not block driveway. Violators will be persecuted to the full extent of the law.
Did that mean hanged, she wondered, or merely tarred-and- feathered? And wasn’t it… prosecuted? White people didn’t make mistakes like that… did they?
Her favorite wall in Charleston was on the next block. Its surface was dirty concrete with patches of green lichen making it look a thousand years old. The highlight of the wall was the most intricately detailed wrought iron gate she had ever seen. She wondered if it had been crafted by Philip Simmons, a blacksmith by trade and a black man by birth whose work, she had heard, had ended up in the Smithsonian Museum.
Then she passed the decrepit house with a severe lean to one side, that always caught her attention. It was a stately colonial with imposing columns but was run-down and neglected. Like the owner couldn’t afford to keep it up. She had heard Mr. David on the phone once making fun of a woman who was, “house-rich and check book poor” and wondered if this was her place. Mr. David went on about how the woman was from an old Charleston family but had been spotted using food stamps on the down low at the local Harris Teeter food market.
Vermelle turned left on Stolls Alley and walked over the bumpy, broken-brick pavement. The roads were in far better shape up on Nunan Street—in the heart of the ’hood—where she lived in her two-bedroom freedman’s cottage. She had observed how the well-to-do south of Broad Street folks leaned toward the old, worn, distressed look. She had heard the word ‘quaint’ used a lot but just couldn’t see it.
At number 5 Stoll’s Alley, she rang the bell and waited.
David Marion’s Greek Revival featured grey stucco over brick— the brick peeking through in several places. Vermelle had heard how at one point in history brick had lost favor with the rich folk so they had simply stuccoed over it. As she fumbled for her key, she looked over at the bulky two-inch-thick shutters with cut-outs of palmetto trees and the flickering gas lanterns that David Marion kept on at all time.
After a minute or so, she knocked and waited. Nothing.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
Out of options, she tried the doorknob. To her surprise, it opened.That was odd. She pushed it open and stuck her head in.“Mr. David, it’s me, Vermelle.”
She walked into the hallway, the rare herring-bone heart-of-pine floor at her feet. “Mr. David,” she said again a little louder, “it’s Vermelle.”
She walked into the living room recently decorated by Madeline Littleworth Mortimer herself. “Mr. David?”
She figured he must have hurried off to shoot a scene for his dopey TV show and had forgotten to lock the house. It had happened before. She went down the hallway to his bedroom to get the sheets, towels, and his dirty clothes; the first thing she always did. The bedroom door was open, and she went in.
And there, sprawled atop the 1000-count Egyptian sheets of his king-size bed, lay David Wayne Marion buck naked and with a bullet hole in his forehead .
First, Vermelle screamed, scaring the hell out of Mr. David’s Labrador retriever, napping at the side of the bed. Then she called the cops.
Finally, she fled the house and headed straight to the AME Church up on Calhoun. All she could do now was pray for the soul of poor Mr. David.

Author Bio:
A native New Englander, Tom Turner dropped out of college and ran a Vermont bar...into the ground. After limping back to college to get his diploma, Tom became an advertising copywriter, first in Boston then New York. After ten years of post-Mad Men life, he made a radical change and got a job in commercial real estate. Not long after that he ended up in Palm Beach, buying, renovating and selling houses along with collecting raw material for his novels. On the side, he wrote Palm Beach Nasty, its sequel, Palm Beach Poison, and a screenplay called Blood Red Sea. While at a wedding a few years later, he fell for the charm of Charleston, South Carolina, and moved there. Recently, wandering Tom moved again. This time, just down the road to Skidaway Island, outside of Savannah, where he's writing a novel about passion and murder among his neighbors.

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Doctor Millionaire Book Blitz #Giveaway

Doctor Millionaire: A Hopewell Millionaires Sweet Romance
Elle Rush
Publication date: December 1st 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Twelve friends.
Ten-year reunion.
One $50,000,000 lottery ticket.
The only reason Dr. Doug Little returned to work in his dying hometown was to keep a promise. Two years and he’s gone. The only things getting him through his first couple months are his ten-year reunion and working with his old high-school crush.
Although Jackie Dunn loves her quiet world, her small-town life gets even harder when her part-time hospital job is in peril. If not for her friends’ encouragement, she’d head to the city for better opportunities for herself.
At the reunion, all the returning graduates chip in for a lottery ticket, but nobody expects to win the fifty-million-dollar jackpot. Doug’s share should be more than enough to buy his freedom, but the town doesn’t want to let their new doctor go. Jackie is the only thing that makes Hopewell bearable; the problem is the more time he spends with her, the more he forgets how much he wants to leave.
When he finally finds a way to escape, Doug realizes he’ll be doing it alone. Jackie doesn’t have much time to show him the life he accidentally created for himself in Hopewell is far better than anything his millions could buy him anywhere else.

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—

EXCERPT:

Doug moved so he was standing beside Cameron. The sunlight coming through the window highlighted the sweat on Andie’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay, Andie?” he asked.
“Umm.” It wasn’t a yes, but it was an acknowledgement. “Jason, can you read those again, but slower this time?” she asked.
“Andie, did you pick a ticket where we didn’t match one number? I hate those,” Tyler complained.
Doug did too, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the source of Andie’s distress.
She was still sweating. “Tyler, watch Andie,” Doug ordered.
Tyler sat up straight and held out a hand, ready to grasp Andie’s biceps in case she toppled over. It looked like a real possibility.
Jason rattled off a string of numbers again.
Andie swayed on the sofa cushion. Tyler’s grip kept her upright. “Jason, move,” Doug ordered. He and Tyler tilted Andie until she lay across the sofa. “Andie, I need you to slow your breathing. You’re hyperventilating.”
“We won,” she gasped. Her blonde bangs were plastered to her forehead.
“How many numbers did we match?” Jason asked.
“All of them,” she said breathlessly.
Doug swiped the ticket out of her hand. “Breathe. Slowly. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” His eyes went to the ticket; a tiny, blue dot under each number. “One more time, Jason?”
“Four. Eight. Twelve. Nineteen. Twenty-nine. Forty-seven. Forty-eight.” His voice cracked when he asked, “Did we really get them all?”
Doug wanted to hyperventilate himself. He nodded. Seven out of seven. That was a jackpot win, if it were true. “I think so. Maybe somebody should look on another site. Or run out to the gas station and see what they have posted in case Jason’s app is wrong.”
He expected yelling. Shouts. Happy, hysterical tears. Not dead silence.
Scarlett hit the carpeted floor with a thump. Her legs had gone out from under her. “Do you know what the prize is this week? Fifty million dollars. That’s, what, five million dollars each?”
“Four and change,” Freddy said. “There are twelve of us. Andie wrote all our names on the ticket when she bought it.”
He’d forgotten. Doug flipped the narrow sheet and saw the names printed on the reverse. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Who’s going to double-check the winning numbers?”
They checked the numbers again, this time on the lotto’s website using Evelyn’s laptop. Then Cameron and Freddy took a field trip to the gas station. Freddy live-streamed the drive, including a long, in-depth focus on the posted, winning numbers. Scarlett texted Noah, Kirby and Jonathan, ordering them to Evelyn’s immediately. She accepted no excuses.
Fifty-million dollars’ worth of winning numbers.
Fifty million.

Author Bio:
Elle Rush is a contemporary romance author from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. When she’s not travelling, she’s hard at work writing books which are set all over the world. From Hollywood to the house next door, her heroes will make you sigh, and her heroines will make you laugh out loud.
Elle has a degree in Spanish and French, barely passed German, and has flunked poetry in every language she ever studied, including English. She also has mild addictions to tea, yarn, bad sci-fi movies, and HGTV.

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COVER REVEAL - Biker Beauties Volume 1

Title: Biker Beauties Volume 1

Series: Biker Beauties #1-2

Author: Audrey Carlan

Genre: Erotic Romance
Cover Design: Jena Brignola

Release Date: December 30, 2019

Blurb

From Audrey Carlan, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Calendar Girl series.

Biker Babe (Biker Beauties #1)

Princess. That’s what the club calls me. I’m not frilly, into pink, or expect a man to woo me with chocolates and flowers. I don’t need candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach.

I’m not the girl you take home to your parents. I like wild, fun, and good times. I’m the kind of girl you put on the back of your bike and ride through the night…in more ways than one.

I like the wind in my hair and the open road before me. I was born a biker princess and I’ll be one until the day I die. The man in my life can try to tame me, but he’ll have one hell of a fight on his hands. Though if he wins, he’ll get the ultimate prize…all of me. Devoted. His old lady through thick and thin.

So when I opened my store, aptly named Biker Babe, I didn’t expect to have the biggest, sexiest, most jaw-dropping man walk into my shop and set my world on fire. I wanted him instantly. Only problem, my father is the president of the Hero’s Pride MC, and Taggart “Rex” Crawford is his new Vice President.

Our Pride likes to live wild and ride free but everyone knows the President’s daughter is off limits.

***

Biker Beloved (Biker Beauties #2)

The day I found out I was going to be a father was the scariest, most shocking moment of my life. Worse, my brand new baby girl was dropped off in the arms of my motorcycle club, abandoned by her mother while I was fighting in Afghanistan. Of course, I did what I had to do, and returned home as soon as possible.

At this point in my life, women were the last thing on my mind. I could easily pick up one at the bar or partake of the many club girls vying for The Pride’s attention.

Then she entered my sights.

Anya Markova.

It was her eyes I noticed first. Bright blue and haunted. They spoke of a sadness I wanted nothing more than to whisk away. My first attempt at wooing her didn’t go well. Anya wasn’t the type of girl I could just pick up. She was the type I’d need to court…relentlessly.

When I found out Anya was my daughter’s much-admired ballet teacher, I knew exactly what I had to do—and I wasn’t above using my daughter’s love of her new teacher to make it happen. Because throughout my years in the club, serving my country, traveling the world, I’d never met a woman who made my soul sigh the way she did.

Now, I’d stop at nothing to make this stunning ballerina my old lady.  

The Biker Beauties is a collection of interconnected standalone novellas. They can be read out of order if desired. They are high in heat, but don’t forget the sweet.

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Releasing December 30, 2019

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Author Bio

Audrey Carlan is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. She writes wicked hot love stories that are designed to give the reader a romantic experience that's sexy, sweet, and so hot your e-reader might melt. Some of her works include the wildly successful Calendar Girl Serial, the Trinity Trilogy and the International Guy Serial.

She lives in the California Valley where she enjoys her two children and the love of her life. When she's not writing, you can find her teaching yoga, sipping wine with her "soul sisters" or with her nose stuck in a wicked hot romance novel.

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Let It Snow Cover Reveal #Giveaway

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Let It Snow: A Christmas Novella
Kristie Leigh
Publication date: December 11th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Coming home for the holidays after eight long years to say goodbye, I found myself saying hello.
Melissa—or Missy as I remembered her—had had a crush on me. But being a typical eighteen-year-old, I didn’t pay much attention to the blushing twelve-year-old.
I walked away without so much as a backwards glance. But now? Now I can’t tear my eyes away.
Gone was the girl with braces and pigtails…in her place was a woman who took my breath away.
I just had to prove to her I wasn’t the same guy I was back then. I prayed for a Christmas miracle, but I never expected this.
Her.
Us.

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Author Bio:
I'm a feisty redheaded Canadian/American who fell in love with romance novels when my friend Phil bought me a Kindle that hasn't left my side since.
My favorite books to read are anything taboo and super sick and twisted. I'm not sure I will ever
write anything dark, but I would love to give it a shot one day.
I live in South Florida with my high school sweetheart and three kids.
I grew up in Burlington, ON, Canada but made the move to South Florida in 2013 and definitely don't miss the snow.
I'm not sure where this writing journey will take me but either way, I know it will be a fun new adventure, and I'm super excited about it.

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