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Release Blitz : The Edge of Us by Veronica Larsen

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Grab it now! The Edge of Us by Veronica Larsen!
A standalone, contemporary romance NOW AVAILABLE!
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"Veronica Larsen ripped my heart out! This book is so well written with absolutely emotional, raw, and beautiful characters." ~Alta Hensley, USA Today Bestselling Author
★ Amazon → http://amzn.to/2v1HOxr ★ iBooks → http://apple.co/2rx3EnW ★ Nook → http://bit.ly/2v3kwqz ★ Kobo → http://bit.ly/2h5Tc5M ★ Google Play → http://bit.ly/2tXmJQ6
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• SYNOPSIS •
Eight years ago, Cole Van Buren left me at the altar without a single explanation. My heart’s been at a standstill ever since, the anger keeping me from moving on. Keeping me from seeing the man who’s been right in front of me all this time…
Andrew’s been the friend I needed, the one constant through the hardest times of my life. But one night, the lines blur and we’re tipped into something more. Just when I’m ready to explore what we could be…
My ex comes back.
Cole says he didn’t come to get me back, but I should know better. The answers he dangles overhead are the ones I need to finally let go.
Except there’s no such thing as closure, only a past that wants to pull you backward.
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About the Author:
Veronica Larsen began writing around the age of seven, scribbling Nancy Drew-like stories between the margins of composition notebooks. Her journey into the romance genre began once upon a long military deployment when she penned a steamy romance for her husband, a US Marine. This story eventually turned into her debut novel Entangle. She fell in love with writing romance and hasn't looked back since. Her novels are known to feature engaging story-lines, relatable characters that tap into heart-tugging truths, and a tangible chemistry that builds throughout the story. She holds a Bachelor of Science in Psychology, which has come in handy in resolving the messy lives of the fictional people in her head.
Connect with Veronica:
Website: http://www.veronicalarsenbooks.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorveronicalarsen/?fref=ts Twitter: https://twitter.com/Author_VLarsen Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dqrQCv Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8445512.Veronica_Larsen

Cover Reveal: Drift by Amy Murray



Do you love emotional, swoon-worthy New Adult fiction and gorgeous covers? We do, too! And today we are thrilled to share an exciting look at an upcoming Entangled Embrace release that has us over-the-moon excited! Read on for all the details, and be sure to enter the amazing giveaway!
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DRIFT by Amy Murray

I’m not crazy. My mother may have died with everyone believing she was insane, but I refuse to accept that as my fate. Even if I am recalling memories about a life I never lived. A life that includes the mysterious James—a guy I’ve only just met, but feel as if I’ve known all my life. The memories are coming hard and fast, and I’m falling down a rabbit hole with consequences that far exceed anything I could have ever imagined. And now, someone is trying to kill me.
Someone from my past who knows about my visions and is looking for something he believes I took from him. All I have to do is figure out how these memories relate to the present and maybe I’ll survive to live another day.
Maybe…
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And scroll down to see the GORGEOUS cover!
 
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GIVEAWAY:

 

About Amy Murray:

Amy Murray graduated from the University of Houston with a B.S. in Psychology. She and her family live in Cypress, Texas, and when she can’t escape to Galveston bay, she enjoys modern quilting.

Chapter Reveal : So Good by Nicola Rendell




























Coming August 7th





























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On the roof of a house outside Truelove, Maine, master carpenter Max Doyle looks down through a skylight and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. She’s naked, she’s gorgeous, and everything about her is perfect, down to the ball-busting tattoo of a rose that wraps around her hip. But it isn’t just any woman making his knees buckle. It’s his best friend, Rosie Madden. And as he stands there, mesmerized and precariously close to toppling off the roof, he knows he’ll never, ever be able to look at her the same way again.

Rosie can’t help but notice that Max is suddenly acting very strange—lots of long stares, totally tongue-tied, and not at all like the slightly cocky hunk she’s proud to call her best friend. She can’t figure it out, until later that night when Max rescues her from the world’s worst date, challenges her to a game of pool, and shows her just exactly what she’s got him thinking about. Repeatedly.

But life is complicated. Rosie’s cat, Julia Caesar, wants to eat Max’s dog Cupcake for an afternoon snack. A dream job threatens to pull them apart. And another glance through the skylight changes everything, one more time. Yet try as they might, they can’t go back to being just friends, because falling in love with the one you’ve always adored?

It feels so good.


















1
Max

I wasn’t planning to see her naked—I swear to God, I wasn’t. The day was a scorcher, one of those godforsaken New England summer days that makes a guy wonder how he ever said fuck you to winter. I stood on the roof her house, three stories above the Maine woods, with a far-off view of the ocean. It was pretty, yeah, like the kind of shit real estate companies put on complimentary calendars. But in that heat, it was like standing on top of a goddamned toaster, turned all the way to burnt. I could feel that shit in my socks, straight through my work boots. At my feet was a stack of shake shingles, old school, to replace the ones that were missing. Her house had a few slow leaks, and one over her bathroom that made the ceiling look like a huge Rorschach test. She said it definitely looked like a rose in bloom, I said it definitely looked like Batman. But I told her hidden meanings wouldn’t make shit for difference when the ceiling collapsed into the tub, so there I was. Fucking miserable work, but I was glad to do it. Glad to do anything for her—anything she needed at all.
In the forest on every side around the cottage, the cicadas screeched. It sounded like a needle squeaking off a record player. I knelt down by the stack of shingles, using my utility knife to score a line through one to fit a nearby gap. I snapped it with my hands and tossed the scrap end off the edge of the roof. A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead, and I wiped my face with my forearm. One droplet got away, sparkling in the sun. It caught my eye, and I watched it fall, as it landed on the skylight window with a splat.
​And that was when it happened. Boom.
​There she was, right under me. She couldn’t have been more than six feet away, but she felt even closer. I had a direct line of sight down into her gorgeous, soft cleavage, bright and pure in the sunshine. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the surprise of seeing her, but at first I didn’t really process that it was Rosie at all. My dude brain said, I want that woman.
​Then my regular brain said, Don’t be an asshole, man. It’s Rosie. Have some respect.
Respect I definitely had, but of course I’d thought about seeing her naked before. She was so fucking beautiful that any man would have thought about it. Sometimes, like right then looking down into her dress, I couldn’t fucking help it. Sometimes we’d be out doing something ordinary, like eating dinner, or I’d be changing her oil, or she’d be teaching me to do shit I should have learned at some point in the last 34 years, like iron a dress shirt without screwing up the collar, and I’d catch myself watching her cleavage rise and fall as she breathed, or thinking how nice her legs were, and I’d think, Holy hell.
Now she was directly underneath the skylight. The angle of the sun cast my shadow down the roofline, away from the skylight, so I didn’t give myself away. Like that, I watched her. I gave in to my dude brain and just took her in. Her light brown hair glinted, and a beam of light caught the curve of her shoulder.
That was when the goddamned striptease started, beginning with the left strap of her sundress.
Her movements were graceful, sexy, sassy—the sway of her hips, the shake of her shoulders. I realized I might be in real fucking trouble, because I loved that sexy sass. It wasn’t normal Rosie-cute. It was naughty, like nothing I’d ever seen her do before. I liked it so much, I couldn’t look away. She shimmied out of her sundress, and it fell to the floor in a pool at her feet. No big deal, I tried to tell myself. I’d seen her in her bikini a thousand times. This was no different from that.
Except it was, because then she reached around to undo her bra. Before I could tell myself Don’t look, dude. It’s Rosie, don’t look, it was too fucking late. The straps slid down off her shoulders, and for one perfect second got caught on her nipples, swinging in the air before falling to the floor.
Holy…
I pressed my clenched fist to my mouth and groaned into my hand. All my blood was leaving my head. The roofline was getting wobbly.
It wasn’t like I didn’t know her curves; we’d spent whole summers on the beach—I knew her shape and her softness, I knew her lines and her freckles. Every curve of Rosie Madden was sacred in my book. Fucking douchebags on the beach giving her eyes had to answer to me and my eyes, right behind her. She did that to me—I was one punch away from defending her honor, always. But this? This was different. Seeing your best friend in a bikini at a clam bake is one thing. Protecting your best friend from assholes with wandering eyes is part of the guy-girl best friend creed. But seeing your best friend, absolutely naked in her bedroom, without knowing she can see you? That was a different deal.
…Shit.
Part of me knew I should keep my eyes off of her. She thought she was in private, I had no business spying. Anyway, I didn’t want to be that guy. I hated that guy. But the other part of me, fuck. The other part of me was nothing but want.
Then she bent at the hips, and time slowed down, like some kind of stop-motion Jackie Chan kung fu sequence. All the cicadas went silent, at least in my head they did. The wind stopped blowing through the trees. It was just her, and her perfection, in the sunshine underneath me. I felt like I was on one of those glass-bottomed boats, looking at a world I never knew existed.
She tossed her bra aside, and it landed on her neatly made bed. She shimmied out of her panties, shaking her ass as she did. I growled into my fist, and that’s when I went down into a crouch.
Because as she shimmied I saw it in a V above her ass. My kryptonite. A skimpy thong.
All these years, all these decades, I’d had her pegged for cute cotton panties—pastel polka dots, thin stripes, shit that was sweet and sensible. But I was so fucking wrong. Black. Strappy. Tiny. Not sensible at all. Now it was in a rolled-up ball at her ankles. Using her toes, she plucked her panties from the floor, and caught them on one finger.
Fucking A.
She was completely naked, not a thread on her. Every thought I’d ever had got sucked out of my brain, like dishwater down the sink drain. What was left was only one true thing, and it wasn’t about her ass, or her skin, or her breasts. It was the one thing I think I’d always known but never let myself feel. Until that moment.
She is the most beautiful woman in the world.
Part of the reason I thought that was, yeah, obviously, she was fucking stunning, every inch of her straight out of a dream. Not just my dream, either. Guys would slow down on Main Street to give her the elevator stare, and I’d quietly crack my knuckles and give them don’t-you-fucking-dare stares. But the other part, the part that wasn’t in my gut but that was in my heart, was that I fucking adored her. Adored her so hard it hurt.
She crouched down to pick up her dress, lifting the delicate straps with her small, sweet fingers. She pivoted, so I had a view of her other side of her body for the first time. There it was.
The tattoo.
I groaned again. I wasn’t prepared for this shit; three stories up, that body was dangerous. It was a rose tattoo, snaking around her hip, on the milk-white skin that was always under her bikini bottoms. The part of her I’d never seen. It was serious ink, real art, not some namby-pamby temporary tattoo or some amateur shit she might’ve gotten in an hour at a tattoo parlor on a dare on a cruise to Puerto Rico. It was complicated, detailed, and artful. Multiple visits to some tattoo artist, touching that creamy skin—goddamn.
It took every fucking ounce of strength I had, but I did manage to look away. I felt as disoriented as if I’d been sucker punched. Not cotton—lace. Not cute—hot. Not my friend—my fucking fantasy.
She was so important to me, such an integral part of my world, that I’d never let myself think of her as more than what she was. She was like running water, or electricity, or the sunshine itself. She was one of those things that was perfect exactly as it was, and one of those things only an idiot would want to change. I never looked at her and thought, I wish I could have more of her than I do already. That would be like thinking, I wish I could turn that cold glass of water into a swimming pool. Or, I wish electricity came through the air. Fuck that noise. Perfect things are perfect things, and Rosie Madden was a perfect goddamned thing, from the tips of her toes to the freckles on her nose. And that rose, holy fuck, that rose.
I was strong, but not that strong, and I let my eyes move down again. She’d disappeared from view, mostly, except for the edge of her ass. I watched her rifle through her closet, and a few dresses fluttered onto her bed. On her bedside table, I caught a glimpse of the picture she always kept there, of the two of us together. The memories flew back at me like a runaway train. The first time I’d ever seen her was the day my parents and I moved to Truelove, at the start of middle school. The first time I ever saw her, she was volunteering at the community gardens. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and I thought she’d looked super badass. I’d helped her dig up carrots and had been too fucking tongue-tied to say a goddamned word.
That’s how I felt, all over again times a thousand.
I’d never made a move. She’d cried on my shoulder through a line of guys who were never good enough for her. Jocks and pricks and a brief and seriously unfortunate stint with a guy who was a drummer for a reggae band who I hated so much it made me grind my teeth. But I never said shit about it. She was perfect even when she made mistakes. Tips of her toes. Freckles on her nose.
Never mind that rose. Like Banksy took on a temple.
One more time, I glanced down. Now she was sitting on her bed, and I saw that dark V shadow between her thighs. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I watched her put on a pair of red panties. Equally skimpy, equally not-sensible, equally ball-busting. They were only tragic because they hid the parts of her I’d never seen before.
Christ. All. Mighty.
As the world started to spin, I realized fixing the shingles could wait. I’d been working on old houses long enough to know that if you found yourself on a dangerously sloping roof and felt like you might be less than 100% on the ball, you needed to reconsider your game plan. I needed to get my shit together—that body had me totally fucking derailed. So I made my way down the roof, basically bouldering down backward. I focused on my grip, and my steps, like a climber coming down from Everest without enough oxygen. When I got to the gutter, I worked my way around the corner, standing on the eave, and hooked my leg over my ladder, making sure to put one foot after another and keep a tight grip on every rung.
When I stepped off the ladder, I grabbed a bottle of water that she’d left for me and filled up my palm and then splashed my face. My sweat stung my eyes through the droplets of water, and I rubbed away the tears. I heard the hinges on the screen door creak. “All done?” she asked.
I opened my eyes. They stung like hell, but I didn’t give a fuck. There she was, in a dress I’d seen before. Striped and sweet. But now I knew the secret. There were red panties under there. Red. Cherry red. My eyes fell on that part of her hip that I knew was inked.
“Max?”
I managed somehow to snap out of it. “Sorry. Getting there. Spotted something weird with the skylight.”
Rosie cocked her head. “Were you up there? Above my room?”
Awesome, dude. Smooth. “Just noticed it out of the corner of my eye.”
“I don’t like you being on the roof.” She pursed her lips. “Too steep. Promise you’ll get some ropes up there or something? Promise?” She reached out and put her hand to my arm, her fingers with their short pink nails pressing into my tanned skin. I had a quick but totally unavoidable image of her gripping my forearm in a very different situation. I want that. So fucking...
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
When I didn’t answer—I knew that if I opened my mouth the first words out would be You. Me. Right Now.—she looked up at the roof and squinted into the sun. She peered suspiciously up at me and shifted her nose, kind of like a bunny. Adorable. She wasn’t very tall, so whenever she looked at me she had to lift her chin, which used to be cute. But now looked…like everything I’d ever wanted. “Have you had too much sun?”
​I was vaguely aware that she’d said some words, but I wasn’t hearing them because I realized that I couldn’t see her bra straps, so that had to mean she was she was wearing a strapless…
Knock. That. Shit. Off. “I’m good.”
“Mmm.” She nodded and furrowed her delicate eyebrows, which had never looked so pretty as they did at that moment. I didn’t even know eyebrows could be pretty. They’re eyebrows, for fuck’s sake. But suddenly I felt like for the last ten years, I’d been looking at her through a standard definition television, with a shitty cable connection. Now someone had handed me an HDMI cable, and she was in 1080 dots per inch. Christ.
“Lemme make you a sandwich. You’re acting strange.”
Rather than answer her, I dumped the remaining half a bottle of water over my head, like Andre Agassi used to do between break points at the French Open.
“Ham? Or turkey? I’ve got both. Or chicken salad!” She clapped her hands together, compressing her cleavage. “Do you want a pickle?”
She means an actual pickle, you fuckwit. “Surprise me,” I told her, and dragged my eyes off the curve of her cleavage. I grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt and pressed it to my eyes. I had to get out of there. I needed a cold shower, or a call from my tax guy, or an unexpectedly urgent trip to the DMV—anything to stop myself seeing her stark naked every goddamned time I looked at her. Anything to get my mind off that ink.
As I wiped my face, she cleared her throat, and I dropped my shirt. “What?”
She pressed her lips together and rocked back on her sandals. “Nothing!”
I followed her eyes and glanced down at my fly, but the stallion was still in the barn. “Come on,” I said, finding myself smiling right along with her. “What are you looking at?”
“Just…” She swallowed hard. “Looking good there, champ.” She glanced at my stomach, where I’d shown her my bare abs. She made a fist and gave me a mock punch, soft and sweet. “That P90X is working great for you.”
Here we go again with the fitness videos. For everything else she was—beautiful, smart, funny—she was also a fucking ball-buster sometimes. She’d worked up this whole narrative that I spent my nights with Tony Horton on my houseboat, getting cut and doing reps while I drank protein shakes with a straw straight from the blender. It was her only explanation for why I didn’t have a girlfriend. P90X it had to be, she’d said. Or maybe, she’d whispered like a co-conspirator, “Jazzercise.” Now, though, I had a better idea than ever about why I was so picky: not a single woman held a candle to her. I’d been fucking blind to it, but now the mist had burned right off. “I’ve never even seen the opening sequence. Never have. Never will.”
“They’re streaming now!”
​“Christ.”
Rosie snorted and made a long wheeeeee. “Sure. Surrrrrrre,” she said, stifling her giggle. “One ham-and-turkey, coming right up.” She spun on her sandals and disappeared into the house. Hips swinging. Red panties invisible, but not to me.
Not anymore.













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Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.


Author Links





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Release Blitz : #MOMFAIL 24 Mom-Coms 24 Authors


Cover Design: MadHat Books
Release Date: July 25, 2017
 

Synopsis

Everyone just stop for one bleeping minute so we can all get real with each other. Being a mom is some tough $#!†. You're constantly wearing questionable substances that make you ask, "is this chocolate or ... oh, crap ..." and your purse is merely a receptacle for three-week-old snacks and broken crayons. Let's be honest ... even when we're doing this “mom” thing right, we're somehow doing it completely wrong. Pardon us while we dust off our collective Mother of the Year trophy and proudly present you with an epic anthology of #MOMFAILS. *Stories inspired by real life (unless you’re a cop, then it’s all complete fiction). Names and situations have been changed to protect the guilty (and by guilty, we mean the moms). Because motherhood is a battlefield and we're all just trying to survive by any means necessary. Featuring this amazing lineup: Alissa York, A.M. Willard, BL Berry, Carina Adams, Claudia Burgoa, Crystal Burnette, Dylan Allen, Faith Andrews, Gia Riley, J.A. DeRouen, Kate Anslinger, Leddy Harper, LK Collins, LL Collins, Marie James, Piper Rayne, Riann C. Miller, Shari J. Ryan, Stephanie Rose, Stephie Walls, SM West, TL Swan, Teresa Michaels, and foreword written by: Nicole Kane Knepper.    

Goodreads

 

 

Purchase Links:

 

Giveaway

$100 Amazon Gift Card
 
 

 

Connect with the Authors:

 
Alissa York: http://bit.ly/2tkt3lq
A.M. Willard: http://bit.ly/2vGtAyH
Carina Adams: http://bit.ly/2gOIMHr
Claudia Burgoa: http://bit.ly/2ugiEtU
Crystal Burnette: http://bit.ly/2uFaEnk
Dylan Allen: http://bit.ly/2vGUNBk
Faith Andrews: http://bit.ly/2uOc67s
J.A. DeRouen: http://bit.ly/2dFHwzC
Kate Anslinger: http://bit.ly/2tLw8dt
Leddy Harper: http://bit.ly/2uF5gAG
Marie James: http://bit.ly/2ubkYQ6
Piper Rayne: http://bit.ly/2ugdmPf
Riann C. Miller: http://bit.ly/1V9Q3xM
Shari J. Ryan: http://bit.ly/2vGUfeN
Stephanie Rose: http://bit.ly/2vHa3ya
Stephie Walls: http://bit.ly/2rwxvkc
Teresa Michaels: http://bit.ly/2rIEfrf

Audiobook Review: Fake Fianceé by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Fake Fianceé
Written by Ilsa Madden-Mills
Narrated by Yvonne Syn and Alastair Haynesbridge
Length: 6 hrs and 47 mins
Unabridged Audiobook
Release Date: 07-11-17
Publisher: Audible Studios

Fake engaged to the hottest quarterback in the country? SCORE.
They say nothing compares to your first kiss,
But our first kiss was orchestrated for an audience.
Our second kiss . . . that one was REAL.
He cradled my face like he was terrified he'd f*ck it up.
He stared into my eyes until the air buzzed.
Soft and slow, full of sighs and little laughs,
He inhaled me like I was the finest Belgian chocolate,
And he'd never get another piece.
A nip of his teeth, his hand at my waist . . .
And I was lost.
I forgot he was paying me to be his fake fiancée.
I forgot we weren't REAL.
Our kiss was pure magic, and before you laugh and say those kinds of kisses don't exist,
Then you've never touched lips with Max Kent, the hottest quarterback in college history.
Three months. Two hearts. One fake engagement.

Can I talk about this cover first... I am really feeling the whole vibe of this guy. I'm not usually into the long hair but that and the scruff looks so good on this guy. And he is exactly how I would picture Max.

When I first started getting into romance audiobooks I was pretty much only listening to New Adult. I got tired of that kind of quick. I didn't even think this was a New Adult book when I was thinking about reading it. I just saw fake fianceé and jumped on it. Fake couple, marriage of convenience is my FAVORITE trope. I mean I really love it so I just jumped on this book from the title alone.

Story

This book was everything I love about New Adult. I loved the hero and the heroine. Sunny and Max are both fresh off of break-ups. Sunny is just trying to make it through the semester. She picked classes with her ex-boyfriend and she is not enjoying the fact that she has to see him. Max is also not looking forward to seeing his ex. He just want to focus on football and getting nominated for the Heisman. Sunny and Max decide to become a fake couple to make him look good for the nomination and get a little payback on their exes.

I loved that this book was low on drama. Sometimes New Adult has drama just to have drama. Sunny wasn't very experienced with guys but she also wasn't naive. She had her limits and stuck to them. Max also wasn't the typical athlete. He was smart and he was not a manwhore. He was in the past but it wasn't a big plot point in the story. Sunny and Max had a little tragedy in their past but they were strong despite those issues.

Narration

I swear when every I see atypical names for narrators I think its an alias. As far as for these narrators names, this is the first book I have listened to from either narrator but their voices sound very familiar. This book had dual narration so Yvonne Syn read all chapters in the heroine's POV and Alastair Haynesbridge read all of the chapter's in the male POV. I really enjoyed Yvonne as Sunny. I felt her voice really fit the character. She also did a good job with the male characters. Same for Alastair's narration of Max. He fit that character very well and also did a good job with the female characters. There was a British male character in this book and I think both narrators did a good job with the accent.

Overall I listened to this book fairly quickly and it was enjoyable. I enjoyed the narration and would listen to another book from these narrators. I have all this author's books on audio but this is the first one I have listened to. I will definitely be making a dent in those books.

Cover Reveal : Blue Balls By RC Boldt

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#GIVEMEBLUEBALLS! Get ready for this laugh-out-loud rom-com by RC Boldt! Release Date: August 8th
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Enter the PREORDER GIVEAWAY → https://goo.gl/forms/5Zv2fjuBRq4LB99U2
Dramatic Portrait Of A Girl Theme: Portrait Of A Beautiful Lonel BLUE BALLS Truth: A painful condition caused by a prolonged state of sexual arousal without release. Myth: Only affects males. SARAH I’m beyond frustrated with the man who’s left me high and very far from dry. Multiple times. But, somehow, even though I’m not interested in a relationship, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome keeps me coming back for more—one crazy, sexual debacle after the next. Come hell or high water, the stars will align, and the release will be out of this world. JACK I’m captivated with the woman who’s left me sixty-nine shades of blue, and she's only in this for one thing. The first time, I blew it—and not in the good way—but I’m going to ensure we finally see it through. I need to put an end to this “plague” of sexual calamities and prove to Sarah that we can have more. It's time to grab the universe by the balls and show it who's boss. RCBBlueBallsBookCoverTEASER5b RCBBlueBallsBookCoverTEASER1 About the Author: RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl. Email: rcboldtbooks@gmail.com Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2iNvOqS Website: http://www.rcboldtbooks.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rcboldtauthor Twitter: https://twitter.com/RC_Boldt Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2iNCOnF Instagram: http://bit.ly/2iRJVxM RCBBlueBallsBookCoverFACEBOOK

Release Blitz : Disasters in Dating by Danielle Allen





Dating is hard.
Dating online is hard.
Dating online in your thirties is hard.
Dating online in your thirties after being in a ten-year relationship is hard.

What’s not hard?
Meeting men who aren’t really single.
Having your time wasted.
Receiving unsolicited pictures of genitalia.
Said genitalia.

When did dating become so complicated?

I just want to find a nice, good looking man who replies to my entire text message and doesn’t text me “WYD” every hour. I just want to find a fun loving, intelligent man who doesn’t have a Master’s Degree in Cheating, Shenanigans and Tomfoolery and isn’t fluent in lies. I just want to find a man who is actually the height he listed in his dating profile.

I jumped back into the dating scene with tempered expectations. I didn’t think all the men I would meet were going to be amazing, but I didn’t think so many of them were going to be disasters.



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Release Blitz : Savage By S.L. Scott

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RELEASE BLITZ

Title: Savage

Series: The Kingwood Duet

Author: S.L. Scott

Genre: Mystery, Romantic Suspense

Release Date: July 9, 2017


SYNOPSIS

Welcome to the mysterious world of the rich and the damned in this gritty, modern day fairy tale. Two star-crossed lovers will either find their destiny or meet their fate in a world where demons come in the form of familiar faces and pawns aren’t just players, but deadly.

She was my destiny.

I was her downfall.

We were a match made in hell.

But when we were together, that hell was pure heaven.

The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she would pay the price for my sins. I wasn’t much older than she was, but old enough to know better. Old enough to know she would be good for me and I was bad for her. But I pursued her anyway. Back then I had hope that maybe she could change my future.

Maybe together we could change our fate . . .

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~ Free in Kindle Unlimited ~


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EXCERPT

He moves with assurance, every step taken with purpose. When I met him, he oozed confidence, but I discovered that he didn’t know who he was. It was as if his mother’s death had caused him to lose track of himself. He made me feel safe and secure, taken care of, and loved. He was never unsteady around me. But I would catch him lost in his own thoughts when he assumed I was studying. I remember a night when music played softly in the background, a fire flamed in the fireplace, my books were scattered on the coffee table, and his room was dim with the heaviness of his mood, he stood in the open doorway that led to the balcony. The anguish seemed to cover him like a cloak, his shoulders sagging and his head seeming too cumbersome to hold up. Alexander leaned against the railing and closed his eyes . . .

“Kingwood Enterprises is the only thing left of my mother.”

“You’re left of her.”

“No.” He laughed, looking up at the night sky. “I’m all bad, just like my dad.” Glancing over his shoulder back at me, he sighed. “When are you going to see the real me, Sara Jane?”

“I see the real you every time I see you. This is who you are. I don’t know why you think you’re so bad when all I see is the good.”

With a smile on his face, he turns around, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re the smartest decision I ever made. You know that?”

“Yes,” I say, feeling sassy. “Now come and kiss me.”

“You’re so demanding when you get compliments.”

“You like it.”

Hopping over the arm of the couch, he lands with a thud next to me sending my textbooks to the floor. “I do like it. A lot.”

That was a good kiss. A kiss that went from chaste to more in seconds. I still remember it so clearly.

Alexander may not have known who he was at the time, but he knew who he was going to be. I often wonder if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy or falling into a trap set long before he was born. There are a lot of ghosts haunting this manor and I don’t intend to let him be the next.

Tonight, his secrets are protected by a solid wave of muscle that rolls over broad shoulders, crashing down strong arms. I turn over to get a better look at him before he disappears outside. He’s been working out a lot more lately. He says it’s to get rid of pent-up energy. I think it might be preparing for battle.


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ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE KINGWOOD DUET

SAVIOR coming August 13th, 2017

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SAVIOR Amazon Preorder Link: http://amzn.to/2sk8ftD

 

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

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Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She's obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she's a pro.

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