Tag Archives: comedy

Cover Reveal: HER BOOK BOYFRIEND By K.R. Grace (Ugly Duckling Series)

 

Title: Her Book Boyfriend
Author: K.R. Grace
Genre: Mature YA Romantic Comedy

Release Date: August 25, 2017
Cover Designer: Okay Creations, LLC
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

She believes the secret to love is in the tropes of her favorite romance novels. He’s the best friend prepared to prove her wrong.
Then comes the bet.
If she can’t land a boyfriend for prom by recreating the ten popular tropes in her favorite romance author’s books, she has to go to the prom with her.
The glitch?
They’ve been close their entire lives. He’s the rock god and school legend, while she’s the brainy sidekick who does all his dirty breakups. Thus, finding a guy who doesn’t think they’re already an item is going to be a lot harder than she thinks.
Will she land the book boyfriend of her dreams? Or will she be forced to go to prom with her best friend.
The truth is in the pages.

As a child, K.R. Grace had an overactive imagination. When it was obvious she wasn’t going to change anytime soon, her mom shoved a pen and paper in her hand and said, “Write it down.” So, at the age of eight, her first story was born, and the writing hasn’t stopped since. When she’s not running with wolves, sleeping with bears, or flying with falcons, she can be found checking out local bands or watching movies about things that go “boo” in the night. She lives in East Tennessee with a dog that is afraid of his own shadow and a cat that was a mob leader in a former life.

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10 Dates By Emily James (Romantic Comedy) 99 Cents!

Blurb:

Joanie Fox can’t wait to settle down and marry the man of her dreams. However, when her engagement starts to look more stalemate than soulmate, her best friend stages an intervention sure to make even the most hardened serial daters wince: 10 Dates in 10 Days. 

Statistically, if you kiss a lot of frogs there’s bound to be at least one that’s not a complete toad, isn’t there? With nothing to lose, Joanie embarks on a crazy rollercoaster of blind dates. After all, what can possibly go wrong in the search for Mr. Right?

10 Dates is a standalone, sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy with a happy ending. It is not for the feint hearted and is best suited for readers over the age of eighteen due to sexual themes and mature content.

links:

Amazon USA

10 Dates: A fun and sexy romantic comedy novel

Amazon Australia

https://www.amazon.com.au/d/B071P2BYXD

Amazon Canada

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B071P2BYXD

Amazon UK

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B071P2BYXD

Amazon India

http://www.amazon.in/dp/B071P2BYXD

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35162183-10-dates?from_search=true

Here’s a Teaser:
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HOW DO YOU KNOW? Meredith Schorr Book Blast!

Welcome to my stop for Meredith Schorr featuring HOW DO YOU KNOW?, a romantic comedy.  Meredth will be awarding a $20 Sephora Giftcard to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  You can follow the tour here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2017/01/book-blast-meredith-schorr-tour.html

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BLURB: How Do You Know?

On the eve of her thirty-ninth birthday, Maggie Piper doesn’t look, act, or feel much different than she did at twenty-nine, but with her fortieth birthday speeding toward her like a freight train, she wonders if she should. The fear of a slowing metabolism, wrinkling of her skin, and the ticking of her biological clock leaves Maggie torn between a desire to settle down like most of her similarly-aged peers and concern that all is not perfect in her existing relationship. When a spontaneous request for a temporary break from her live-in boyfriend results in a breakup, Maggie finds herself single once again and only twelve months from the big 4.0.

As Maggie reenters the New York City dating jungle, suitors present themselves quickly, but who is “The One?” Is he a sexy coworker, one of many bachelors at a speed-dating event, or is he the man she already set free? How do you know? Her fun-loving friends and supportive family, including meddlesome “no-filter” Aunt Helen, eagerly share their (often unsolicited) opinions, but Maggie is determined to find her own way, even if she falls on her face—repeatedly.

Excerpt:

“I think we should break up, Maggie.”

My body involuntarily jerks at his words, and I grip the table for support. “You mean permanently or a temporary break?”

“It’s been three years, Maggie. If you’re not sure I’m the one by now, chances are I’m not. I don’t want to waste more of your time.” He pauses. “Or mine. I’ll hunt for a new apartment.”

I swallow back my tears. This is not how I imagined the night would unfold. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Doug gives a slight shake of his head. “I’m sure I don’t want to do this. But I’m also sure I have to. I’ll stay with Connor tonight and pack up some of my stuff while you’re at your mom’s tomorrow night.”

I try to imagine my family’s reaction to hearing Doug and I broke up, and that he moved out to live with his older brother. I can’t. I’m pretty certain my own reaction will be delayed since I currently feel like this is happening to someone else.

Doug continues speaking. “I’ll take care of the bill. You should get out of here.”

“I can’t let you pay for all of this.” I point at the uneaten food. “I ruined my birthday, and now you’re going to pay for it?”

Doug drops his credit card on the table. “Your birthday was Tuesday so, no, you didn’t ruin it. But you did break my heart.”

“Doug…”

Not meeting my gaze, he says, “Just go, Maggie.”

I stand up but linger. I don’t want it to end this way.

“Please, Maggie. Go.”

 

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

A born-and-bred New Yorker, Meredith Schorr discovered her passion for writing when she began to enjoy drafting work-related emails way more than she was probably supposed to. After trying her hand penning children’s stories and blogging her personal experiences, Meredith found her calling writing chick lit and humorous women’s fiction. She secures much inspiration from her day job as a hardworking trademark paralegal and her still-single (but looking) status. Meredith is a loyal New York Yankees fan, an avid runner, and an unashamed television addict. To learn more, visit her at www.meredithschorr.com.

Social media:

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/MeredithSchorrAuthor/

Twitter – https://twitter.com/MeredithSchorr

Website: www.meredithschorr.com

Buy Links:

Just Friends With Benefits

Amazon: Just Friends With Benefits

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/au/author/meredith-schorr/id562888020?mt=11

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/just-friends-with-benefits-meredith-schorr/1110025419

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/just-friends-with-benefits

A State of Jane

Amazon: A State of Jane

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-state-of-jane-meredith-schorr/1112799844?

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/au/author/meredith-schorr/id562888020?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-state-of-jane-1

How Do You Know?

Amazon: How Do You Know?

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/how-do-you-know-meredith-schorr/1120809409

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/au/author/meredith-schorr/id562888020?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/how-do-you-know-5

 

 

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Excerpt: SINGLE CHICAS (Stories By Sandra C. Lopez)

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Women’s Fiction / Humor
Date Published:8/19/16

 

Perfection is a Barbie doll, and, unless you’re looking for a guy with a fake smile, a hard head, and no genitalia, then you’re better off NOT being perfect―Single Chicas
Single Chicas is a collection of stories about modern Latinas being in, out, and around the zany hurdles of relationships. One woman receives strange calls from a lonely soul, another seeks advice on how to love herself, and another wakes up in a parallel universe to a man she’s never met. These chicas will make painstaking effort to survive the complexities with humor and grace. Once again, López dazzles audiences with her brilliantly candid craft. Smart, witty, and funny, these stories will explore the true endurance of singlehood.

 

#1: My Brother’s Funeral

I’ll never forget the day my brother gave me a stroke. Of course, being that he was my little brother, a stroke should’ve been classified a recurring condition by then. Instead, the most he had ever given me was a chronic eye twitch, which, now that I think about it, may have been an indicator of an on-coming stroke. But, yes, it was definitely a stroke I had when Benito (I always called him Benny) came over that day to tell me he was getting married.

My brain blew a short and my whole body went numb. I think, at one point, the world before me was engulfed in a white flash, and then somehow I ended up on the floor. When I finally got the feeling back in my jaw, the only thing I could muster to say was: “Are you a moron?” The clear answer was “yes.” He was a moron. Getting married? Was he out of his freaking mind? Oh, hell yeah! Let’s put aside that he was only 19, not even old enough to drink, for god sakes; let’s put aside that he’d only known the girl for 6 months, at most; let’s even put aside how annoying the girl was and how I couldn’t stand her. Why in the hell would he want to hang himself like that? Had he forgotten that marriage is basically a prison? Had he not paid attention to all the disaster stories I’d told him? Broken marriages from all around the table, starting with our parents and going all the way to our grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, to damn near everyone else we knew. It all ended the same: divorce, the blissful release from a life sentence.

“Why, Benny, why?”

“Oh, Bea, don’t you even start,” he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t want to hear your putdowns on marriage…again. I’ve heard them over and over and over.”

“Well, have you heard that marriages basically suck the big weenie?”

“I believe I did hear that from you, yes.”

“Well, then tell me why? Why the fuck would you do something like that!?” Oh, I could feel my poor blood pressure rising. Good grief, the boy was going to give me a heart attack. I tried taking in a few calming breaths, but the whole thing was basically useless. I was in total freak-out mode. “C’mon, Benny, tell me, please, because I’m not understanding here. What, did she pull that voodoo-hoodoo crap on you? Did you crack your head on something? Have you just completely lost your mind? C’mon, you gotta give me something here.”

With an easy shrug, he said, “Oh…you know.”

“No, I don’t know!” Okay…one, two, three…breathe. I shot him a stern glance and asked directly, “Did you knock her up?”

He looked at me accusingly, his dark eyes narrowing. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know what else to think.”

Benny shook his head with a petulant eye roll. I know that eye roll. It’s the same one he pulls whenever someone tells him to pick up his socks or wash his hands. In a huff, he simply stated, “No. I didn’t knock her up.”

“Then why?”

“Because she’s just…”

“What? Say something.”

“You know…” At a loss for words, he paused then added, “she’s just so…you know…great.”

A literary master at work here. “Great? What’s so great about her?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s a good answer,” I inserted wryly.

“Well, I can’t think with all these questions,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, do you need a minute? I mean, I know I’m throwing really hard questions at you. Worse than poking your nose or scratching your balls, evidently.”

“Why you gotta be like that, huh?”

“Hey, I’m not the one ruining my life here. I’m not the one going after those little titties.”

Pulling his “talk to the hand” gesture, Benny turned to walk away.

“Furthermore,” I continued, following on his ass, “she calls you forty times a day, she has you running to her every time she cries at all hours of the night, and she’s dragging you to all these girly places you wouldn’t be caught dead in, even if you were dead. Plus, she’s annoying, she’s rude, she’s just plain crazy. Face it, she’s nothing but a big, bi—”

“Okay, Bea, that’s enough!” he yelled, twisting around to face me. For a long time, he stood there staring down at me, his nostrils flaring, his jaw tightening. I could tell he was getting pissed. What guy wouldn’t? I was basically pointing out that his girl was wearing his huevos like a necklace.

“Look, bottom line: she treats you like a slave. She will ruin your life. She’s gonna suck you dry ’til there’s nothing left of the old Benny. Seriously, get out of this thing and go live your own life. C’mon, before it’s too late.”

He stood there in brooding silence for a moment, his gaze lingering on his sneakers. Then, looking back up at me in resignation, he said, “She really wants this.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to make her happy.”

“But what’s gonna make you happy?”

Biting his lower lip, my brother shifted awkwardly, his head hung low. He had no words.

“Benito!”

“She’s already started planning with her mom,” he shot out, tearing his eyes from the floor.

“Who cares!? Just don’t do it.”

“But I already told her I would.”

“Oh, god!” My frustration had mounted to unbelievable heights. Oy, there go those chest pains again. The boy was definitely killing me here. But what else could I do? I swear he was as loyal as a dumb dog, and he was bound and determined to live out his days with his tail between his legs. I knew then that he wouldn’t back out on her for any reason. Not even if she was kidnapped, I don’t think (although that was an idea that crossed my mind.)

I stood quiet for a moment, taking long calming breaths. Then I looked up at him, disappointment drawn on my face, and said, “You’re making a big mistake.”

That day I told my brother not to expect me at his funeral.

Sandra C. López is one of today’s influential Latina authors in Young Adult literature. Her first novel, Esperanza: A Latina Story, was published in March 2008 WHILE she was still in college. Since then she has published several other books, including the Single Chicas series. She was named as one of “2011 Top Ten New Latino Authors to Watch” by Latino Stories, and her book, Beyond the Gardens, was a Silver Medal winner of the 2016 Global Ebook Awards in Multicultural Fiction and a finalist in the Int’l Latino Book Awards. Art, literature, and travel are her passions, and she aims to keep doing them as long as she can.

Contact Information

Website: www.sandra-lopez.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sandra-Lopez-173657042664609/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1656820.Sandra_C_Lopez

Purchase Links

Amazon: Single Chicas

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/single-chicas-sandra-lopez/1124415443?ean=2940153681405

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TONIC by Staci Hart 99c PRE-ORDER!!!

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Tonic by Staci Hart

99c PRE-ORDER!!!

 
“STEAMY, FUNNY AND TOTALLY CAPTIVATING”

Pre-order now for only 99c!!! Tonic by Staci Hart releases on October 13!!! #SteinHarts #BestieRelease

US: http://amzn.to/2e5CJgj
UK: http://amzn.to/2dTLdD2

Joel Anderson doesn’t take anything seriously.

Not his relationships, which have been few and far between since his brutal divorce. Not the drama of working in a tattoo parlor, which seems to be around every corner. When things get him down, he smiles and cracks a joke. But he’s not the kind of man you cross, or you’ll find yourself at the wrong end of his fists.

Annika Belousov takes everything seriously.

Like her job as a reality television producer, given that she typically has something to prove. Or her love life, which is defined by a series of requirements — affluent, ambitious, accomplished, to name a few. Definitely her family, who worked their whole lives to afford her every opportunity, a sacrifice she doesn’t take lightly. When she’s tapped to produce a reality show at Joel’s shop, she doesn’t think twice, just goes in for the kill, as if there were any other way.

The second Annika walks into Joel’s shop, he makes it his mission to crack her open, but she’s not having it. He’s all wrong — too crass, too hairy, too un-serious. But it doesn’t take her long to find out there’s more to him than smirks and tattoos. And what she finds could put her career and his heart on the line.

Not that Joel cares. Because for the first time in a long time, he’s found his tonic.

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#99c #PreOrder “scorching hot” “an explosive read” Tonic by @imaquirkybird #SteinHarts http://amzn.to/2e5CJgj

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TEMPORARILY INSANE By Vicki Batman (A Hattie Cooks Mystery)

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Welcome to my stop for TEMPORARILY INSANE by Vicki Batman.  Vicki Batman will be awarding a $75 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. You can follow the tour here: https://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2016/08/blurb-blitz-temporarily-insane-by-vicki.html

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MediaKit_BookCover_TemporarilyInsane

GENRE: romantic comedy mystery

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

No man. Bad job. And Murder. Hattie Cooks is still searching for her dream job and one might be available…in the Big Apple, far from friends, family, and Allan Wellborn, the man who still makes her heart race. In the meantime, she finds temporary employment at an accounting firm where two auditor friends turn up dead.

Detective Allan Wellborn dropped Hattie for Blonde Bimbo who, coincidentally, is employed at NLB where fishy things are taking place. When Allan interviews Hattie, he must determine why
all signs point to her as a suspect.

Can Hattie discover why Allan dumped her and who is murdering auditors before death strikes again?

Excerpt:

“So, you really have no intention of giving me my birthday present?”

“Not really. This one needs to be savored.”

Bouncey, bouncey. “Besides, your mom would kill me if I told.”

Uh-oh. My radar surfaced like a periscope on a Dclass nuclear submarine armed with twenty deadly missiles. This would not do. No siree. Sometimes, Mom’s surprises were incredibly unique. Translated, this meant on occasion her presents were:

—Butt ugly
—Not needed
—Childish

I didn’t want to sound completely ungrateful about Mom’s gifts. In truth, I very much appreciated everything she gave me. I really struggled with keeping the unusual presents and then donating them to a charity when they weren’t used. Most had been stashed on the top shelf of my closet in case she visited and made inquiries about them.

 

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_TemporarilyInsane
AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Award-winning author, Vicki Batman, has sold many romantic comedy works to the True magazines, several publishers, and most recently, a romantic comedy mystery to The Wild Rose Press. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and several writing groups. An avid Jazzerciser. Handbag lover. Mahjong player. Yoga practitioner. Movie fan. Book devourer. Cat fancier. Best Mom ever. And adores Handsome Hubby. Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking “What if??”
Find Author at:

Website: http://vickibatman.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1ipdLkv
Twitter: https://twitter.com/VickiBatman/
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/vickibatman/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4814608.Vicki_Batman/
Author Central: https://www.amazon.com/author/vickibatman
LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?id=116288777&trk=hb_tab_pro_top/
Google+: bit.ly/1zUggDF/
Plotting Princesses: http://plottingprincesses.blogspot.com
Sisters of Suspense: http://sistersofsuspense.com/2015/08/16/vicki-batman-sister-of-sassy-writing/
Email: vlmbatman@hotmail.com

PURCHASE ON AMAZON:  Temporarily Insane (A Hattie Cooks Mystery)

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Fixed Up By Maddie Jane

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Fixed Up book cover 9781760370091

Book Title: Fixed Up
Author: Maddie Jane
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 15, 2016
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Goodreads

book blurb

A fresh new voice in contemporary romance, Maddie Jane debuts her romantic comedy novel about a woman who knows how to fix things and the man who wants to convince her that DIY is more fun with two…

Toppling from her very high heels into Luke Colton’s arms is not the impression Harper Cassidy likes to make. She is strong, independent, and on a personal mission to teach DIY skills to women, and he is all wrong – determined to get involved, determined to help her, and determined to mess with her self-control and self-imposed single lifestyle.

Harper has been more than clear that her plans don’t include him, but there’s something about a woman that knows her way around a power tool that has Luke too enthralled to walk away. Taking his mother along to Harper’s DIY for women classes is the perfect excuse to watch her in action, and maybe convince her that doing it for yourself doesn’t always mean having to go it alone.

excerpt

Luke had considered not going back to the classroom to talk to Harper, but he’d never been one to shy away from a fight.

And she still had the sexy tool belt on. Which helped. A lot.

‘I didn’t think you’d be back,’ she said, not meeting his gaze.

‘It seemed a waste of a good ‘I’ll be back’ not to.’ He looked at her, wondering if she got the Arnie reference. She stared blankly, jiggling a hammer for a second before shoving it into a loop on her belt. ‘And I thought we had a few things we should slug out in private,’ he said. ‘As in, not in front of an entire class of your students. Or even worse, my mother,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘What sort of things?’ Harper’s hand was back on the hammer, which made Luke extremely nervous. If forced to describe her right now, this very second, the words ‘armed and dangerous’ would be perfect.

‘I thought we probably needed to discuss this thing we’ve got between us, for starters.’

‘What thing?’ Her hand held the head of the hammer, lifting it and then letting it slide back through its loop. Lift, slide. Lift, slide.

‘You can pretend all you want, Harper, but there is a thing and it’s the reason we got naked together.’

For a second the hammer was still. Then lift, slide. Lift, slide.

‘People get naked for a whole lot of reasons. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.’

‘True. Only I get the feeling it is a big deal for you, which is why you turfed me out on my arse the way you did.’

Harper’s hand formed a fist around the hammer, her white knuckles the only indication she acknowledged his words. At least the lift–slide had stopped before it completely threw him off course.

‘Okay, so now we’ve talked about that. What else did you want to talk about?’ said Harper.

meet the author

Maddie Jane lives near the beach in Christchurch, New Zealand, with her husband, three children and a very hairy dog. She has a journalism qualification as well as a degree in history and English literature from Canterbury University.

She started reading romance novels when she was far too young and hasn’t stopped. When she isn’t reading or writing she likes walking on the beach and planning her characters’ happy ever afters.

She enjoys reading, holidays, reading on her holidays, movies with happy endings and spending time with family and friends.

social media websitetwitterFacebookGoodreads

buy the book

Fixed Up book cover 9781760370091

AMAZON US:  Fixed Up

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Release Day: GONE WILD By Dakota Madison

Gone Wild

Cover

Book Title: Gone Wild
Author: Dakota Madison
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: May 15, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Goodreads Button with Shadow

book blurb

Go BACK TO BOOKMAN with USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison’s new #LoveinMidlife #ComingofMiddleAge romantic comedy series.

Tenured English professor Bly Daniels believes the short walk from her campus office to the university library is too much exposure to the harsh elements of the outdoors. She would prefer to spend her days (and nights) comfortably seated indoors reading classic literature.

When Bly is arrested for reading one of the great books while driving home, a judge sentences her to thirty days of community service with The Wild Way, a therapeutic wilderness program for troubled teens.

There she meets Turner Wild, the owner and operate of the wilderness program. Turner is everything Bly despises: rugged, unrefined and outdoorsy. For Bly a trip to hell sounds more desirable than spending an entire month with Turner and his band of hooligans as they traverse the woods of rural northwest New Jersey communing with nature.

Bly certainly never expects to form a bond with the troubled teens she’s been assigned to mentor and forge an unlikely relationship with their fearless leader, Turner Wild.

Each full-length novel in Dakota Madison’s LOVE IN MIDLIFE romantic comedy series can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the series. Each story features one of the graduates of Bookman College attending their 25th reunion.

excerpt

“This is as far as I go,” the crusty old cab driver barks as he stops in front of a long dirt road that disappears into the woods.

“How far is it to the wilderness camp?” I ask.

“Pretty far, I would imagine. It’s not visible from the road at all.”

“And how am I supposed to get there?”

“I guess you’re just going to have to walk.”

I laugh until I realize he’s not joking. He expects me to walk into the woods on a dirt road that is God knows how long.

Then I realize I’ll also have to carry my bag as well. I could barely carry my suitcase to the front stoop for him to place in his truck.

“I can only take the cab on paved roads,” he tells me. “Company rules.”

Is that supposed to make me feel better? It doesn’t.

I heave a huge sigh. “How much do I owe you?”

“Thirty.”

I hand him three ten dollar bills, plus a five dollar tip.

“Let me get your bag out of the trunk.”

When he exits the cab I take a moment to compose myself. I’m already so far out of my comfort zone I feel like I’m having a panic attack, and I haven’t even made it to the camp yet.

You’re an intelligent woman with a doctoral degree, I remind myself. You can do this.

By the time I exit the cab my bag is already on the side of the road waiting for me.

“Good luck,” the cab driver says.

“Thanks.”

It probably wasn’t the smartest idea I ever had to wear a dress and pumps. In my defense I don’t have much else in my wardrobe. Work attire and lounging outfits for around the house are about it. When I teach I always wear a dress or a suit with dress shoes. I wouldn’t be caught dead outside of my home in one of my lounging outfits.

Calling the dirt pathway a road is extremely generous. The trail is much rockier and uneven than I initially thought. The shoes I’m wearing are not even close to being appropriate for the conditions. I’ll be lucky if I don’t turn an ankle.

My suitcase is another problem entirely. I can barely make it a few feet before I have to set it down. The muscles in my arms are already throbbing and I haven’t even made it far enough to spot the end of the trail yet.

Luckily it’s still early in the day. I’ve got many hours of sunlight left. Even if it takes me several hours walking a few steps at a time I should make it there before dark.

Unless it’s a few miles to the camp, then I’ll be in a bit of trouble.

Two hours and thirty seven minutes later I’ve had about all that I can take. My feet are blistered and aching. I’m afraid when I finally remove my shoes my feet will be bloody as well.

My arms are so weak I don’t think I can lift the suitcase again.

And I’m on the verge of complete exhaustion.

What was I thinking packing so much stuff? I was thinking I’ll be here an entire month and I need reading materials.

Here is no water but only rock

Rock and no water and the sandy road.

Those words from T.S. Eliot’s ‘The Waste Land’ seem appropriate right now. I take a seat on my suitcase and wipe the sweat from my brow with a tissue that I just happened to have shoved in my pocket. I can’t even remember the last time I sweated. It may have been in high school when we were forced to play those utterly horrendous sports in our Physical Education classes.

I was supposed to be at the apex of my career this year. I was finally promoted from Associate to Full Professor. Edgar had been hinting that when he retired I was first in line to take over as Chairperson of the English Department. I was just a few months away from paying off the mortgage on my house.

Now it looks like I might lose everything, and I’m sitting in the middle of the woods helpless to do anything about it. Edgar was not happy when I told him I needed to take a month of personal leave and he’d need to find a substitute to teach my classes. That coupled with the fact that my arrest and conviction has tarnished the reputation of the institution does not bode well for me still having a career upon my return from this journey into the wilderness.

The sun is starting to get higher overhead, and it’s beating down on me. I’m not sure how much of the blistering brightness my pale skin can take. I should probably edge closer to the tree line where it’s shaded, but I’m too exhausted to move.

I’m just about to fall asleep seated on my suitcase when a large pickup truck whizzes by. I try to raise a hand to wave the driver over, but to no avail. My arm won’t lift high enough.

Instead I choke on the dust left in the truck’s wake.

Then to my surprise the trucks comes to a screeching halt, reverses and heads back towards me.

When I rise to greet the driver my legs feel like cooked noodles. They’re so weak I can barely control them as I move towards the truck.

My eyes go wide when I see who has hopped out of the vehicle. The driver is a young, petite woman of Asian descent.

From the neck up she’s beautiful, with long silky dark hair and perfect features. From the neck down she’s dressed like a man. She’s wearing well-worn jeans, black combat boots and a green Army jacket.

“Are you lost?” Her tone is accusatory, definitely not friendly.

I shake my head.

“You know this road leads to a wilderness camp for troubled teens.”

“I do.”

She looks me up and down. “You don’t look like you’re ready for the wilderness, and you’re definitely not a teenager.”

“I’m aware of that.” My voice is weary. “I’m court ordered to be here. Community service.”

She rolls her eyes. “Lucky us.”

“Unfortunately the cab driver wouldn’t take me beyond the main road. I’ve been walking for hours.”

“Would you like a lift?” She raises an eyebrow.

“That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.”

She lets down the tailgate of the pickup, presumably for me to place my luggage in the empty truck bed.

I do my best to drag the suitcase over to the truck, but I feel like my muscles are on fire. There is no way I’m going to be able to lift the suitcase into the back of the vehicle.

The woman and I both stare at the suitcase for several moments.

“You can’t lift it, can you?” she asks finally.

I shake my head.

“Unbelievable.” She grabs the suitcase like it’s no heavier than a rag doll and tosses it into the back of her truck. Then she slams the tailgate of the truck closed.

She glares at me for several seconds. “I have some advice for you. Never pack more than you can carry.”

Before I have a chance to respond she marches over to the driver’s side of the truck and hops in.

I hurry over to the passenger side of the vehicle and stare at it for a few moments. I’m five feet seven inches tall. The woman is easily five inches shorter than me and she got into the truck with very little effort. I have no idea how I’m going to climb into this thing, particularly in my dress and heels.

“Are you coming?” She glares at me again. She’s very good at glaring. Despite her small stature she’s quite intimidating.

“If you’ll give me just a few seconds I need to figure out how to get inside of this truck.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

She jumps back out of the vehicle, makes her way around to my side then gives me an extremely hard shove right on my buttocks which propels me enough that I’m able to climb into the seat.

She stomps back over to her side of the truck, leaps into her seat with the ease of a rabbit then slams her door shut.

“Your truck is very high off the ground,” I observe.

“No shit, Sherlock. Now fasten your seatbelt.”

The woman doesn’t say another word to me as we head down the dusty road toward the camp.

Thankfully she parks extremely close to what appears to be a main building. It has a placard which says: The Wild Way Administration.

I do my best to hop out of the truck in my heels. The woman opens the back of the truck, hoists my suitcase out of the truck bed and tosses it on the ground.

She doesn’t wait for me to say anything, not even a thank you. She marches back over to the driver’s side, leaps into the truck like a frog, and drives somewhere behind the administration building.

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t feel like dealing with my suitcase so I just leave it where the woman tossed it. There’s not another soul anywhere so I don’t think it’s in danger of being stolen. Not that my clothing and books would be of value to anyone but me.

I walk up the small set of stairs to the administration office. The building is really just a large cabin, much like all of the other smaller cabins scattered about the heavily wooded property.

Unfortunately the front door is locked. I try knocking, then pounding, but to no avail. The place appears to be deserted.

The person with whom I spoke on the phone, Turner Wild, the program director, told me specifically to report to the camp today. I even wrote it down. He was very short with me, much the way the Asian American woman was, so I wasn’t able to get him to commit to a specific time.

My feet are throbbing. I’m not that motivated to walk over to any of the other cabins, which are a significant distance from this one, several hundred yards at least.

The small porch that I’m standing on doesn’t have any chairs, or seats of any kind, so I guess I’m stuck standing here for a while until someone appears, or I figure out something else to do.

I wait for what feels like an hour, but when I glance at my watch I realize only twenty minutes have actually gone by. Time seems to pass very slowly when I don’t have my nose firmly planted in a book.

That’s when I hear rustling on the roof of the administration building. Panic begins to set in when some tree debris fly off the roof and nearly hit me.

What’s up there? Is it some kind of animal?

Then I hear stomping—loud, heavy stomping—right above me. Is it possible for a bear to climb on a rooftop?

My chest tightens and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m going to get killed by a bear and I haven’t even started working here yet.

More tree debris rain down on me: branches, bark, pine cones.

What is going on up there?

Then I hear hammering. To my knowledge bears don’t know how to use hammers. Is Turner Wild on the roof? Or maybe the woman who gave me a lift in her truck?

“Hello?” I shout when the hammering stops. “Hello?”

“You made it,” a male voice shouts back.

I nearly jump out of my shoes when the guy, presumably Turner Wild, jumps down from the roof and lands on the porch next to me.

“Community service?” He places his hammer on the porch rail next to him and wipes his dirty hands on the sides of his jeans.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

The man is different than how I pictured him from our very brief phone conversation. I thought he’d be a lot younger, maybe late twenties or early thirties, but he looks more like he’s my age, mid-to-late forties.

That’s not to say there isn’t a youthful air about him.

Everything about this man is rugged and outdoorsy. His brown hair is cut in a short, military-style haircut. His strong features look a bit rough and weatherworn. His dark jeans and t-shirt are tight fitting and display every one of the large muscles on his exceptionally masculine body.

And he’s wearing a very large knife hanging from his belt. I’m not surprised he runs a wilderness camp. It would be difficult to imagine someone who looks the way he does doing anything else.

Well, maybe serving in those Special Operations Forces in the military. I could picture him in one of those SEAL teams like the one that killed Bin Laden.

I decide there are only two likely vocations for this man: killing bears or killing Bin Laden.

His sea green eyes are like lasers as he stares at me. I’m immediately uncomfortable. I wonder if there is any way I could contact the judge and tell her I’ve changed my mind. Fifteen months in jail is starting to seem much more desirable than a month in the woods with this frightening character.

I extend a hand because I’m not sure what else to do. “Hello, I’m Dr. Daniels.”

He stares at my limb like I’m a leper. Then he looks me up and down. “What kind of doctor are you?”

I clear my throat. “I’m an English professor.”

He laughs. “So you’re not a real doctor.”

I immediately bristle at his ignorant comment. I hate when people say that. “For your information the word doctor is derived from the Latin word docēre which means to teach. The title Doctor has been used for centuries in Europe as a designation for someone who has obtained a research doctorate such as a Ph.D. Thus a person with a medical degree is more accurately described as a physician, not a doctor.”

He pats my shoulder in the most condescending way imaginable, like I’m some kind of pet. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

“Why are you touching me?” His hand is still on my arm. I can feel the heat from his body move through mine. It’s extremely disconcerting.

“Sorry.” He stares at me for a long moment before he removes his hand.

I try to brush away the tingly feeling flowing down my limb. “Why did you call me Doc? This isn’t a cartoon. You’re not Bugs Bunny.”

He laughs again. I don’t like people who laugh so easily. I’m immediately suspicious of them.

“I’m serious,” I tell him. “There’s no reason to laugh.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re wound up tighter than Dick’s hatband?”

I glare at him. Does that expression even make sense? I have no idea what he means, but it feels like an insult. And he’s smirking, which makes it worse.

He looks me up and down. “You can’t wear that.”

“Why not?”

“This is a wilderness camp, Doc. We’ll be getting down and dirty. Living in the woods. You can’t wear a dress and heels.”

“I’d appreciate it if you called me something other than Doc. Dr. Daniels would be fine. Or Ms. Daniels. Or my first name, Bly, if you insist. Just not Doc.”

“I could call you Community Service. Would that be better?”

I shake my head.

“That’s what I thought. What about the clothes, Doc?”

teaserteaser

meet the author

USA TODAY Bestselling author Dakota Madison is known for writing new adult, love in midlife, and contemporary romance with a little spice and lots of heart. Dakota is a winner of the prestigious RONE Award for Excellence in the Indie and Small Publishing Industry. When she’s not at her computer creating spicy stories Dakota likes to spend time with her husband and their bloodhounds. Dakota also writes under the pen names SAVANNAH YOUNG, SIERRA AVALON and REN MONTERREY.

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AMAZON US:  Gone Wild (Love in Midlife Romance Series) (Volume 2)

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FORTUNA By Elaine Cantrell

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Welcome to my stop for FORTUNA by Elaine Cantrell.  Elaine Cantrell will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. You can follow the tour here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2016/03/vbt-fortuna-by-elaine-cantrell.html

 a Rafflecopter giveaway

MediaKit_BookCover_Fortuna

GENRE: Romantic comedy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Aimee Sherwood never dreamed that following her fiancé into the witness protection program would land her in a haunted house in a town that’s downright creepy. She’d have laughed if she had been told the guy who lives down the road might be her soul mate, not the man whose ring she’s wearing. Life in West Virginia is nothing like life in Los Angeles, but between bean ball battles with Marilyn Monroe, remodeling a crumbling farmhouse, and starting a new online business, life in the country is anything but boring.

 

Excerpt:

Without warning the blonde jerked the plastic container away from Aimee. It scooted across the table and crashed into a gelatin salad, taking a corner off its molded perfection. The blue bean balls went everywhere, rolling around the table like marbles on steroids. ”Look what you’ve done,” the blonde wailed. “Nobody will want to eat them now.”

She snatched a bean ball and hurled it at Aimee, who ducked just in time. “You missed me,” she taunted. She had no sooner finished speaking before a second bean ball flew through the air. This one caught the shoulder of her new blouse.

The blonde laughed.

Aimee grabbed a bean ball from the table and threw it at the blonde. She hit the woman right in the chest. “Help me!” the blonde shrieked. “She hit me in the heart. Where’s the sheriff?”

From the corner of her eye, Aimee saw the priest hurrying their way. She fired one final bean ball, which hit the blonde’s forehead with a beany thud.

Rocky grabbed her arm. “They’re circling the wagons. Let’s get out of here.”

Practically running, they made their escape from the church. Rocky took the precaution of locking the truck doors. He sighed. “I guess we can’t come back to this church either. Are we going to become atheists?”

“Of course not!”

 

Q&A with Elaine Cantrell

Where do you get your book ideas?
Everywhere! Sometimes I’ll be listening to some music, and a certain phrase or tune will give me an idea. Maybe someone says something intriguing, and I’m thinking what if… Ideas are everywhere if you just look for them. Even my own obsessions provide ideas. For example, I love home renovation so Fortuna, the house for which the book is named, needs major renovation.
Do you write outline to start or just start writing?
Up until now, I just sat down and started writing, but the book I’m working on now is requiring a little more planning. I’m not sure exactly why, but I’m actually making a list of scenes to write. I still prefer to just sit down and write, but I guess I can adjust this time.
How long does it normally take to write the book before edits?
Oh, not long at all. Every time I start a new book I get so excited and energized that there aren’t enough hours in the day to write. I can write a 60-70 thousand word book in a couple of months, but then come the edits. Groan. They take far longer than the first draft of the book.
Are you an indie author or mainstream author?
If an Indie author is an author who either self published or was published by a small publisher, then I’m indie. I’ve never self published because it looks awfully long and complicated. All of my books are published by small publishers.
How did you get started, can you give people wanting to write an idea how to get started?
I started writing when my son asked me to read a book he’d written. It was a great book, and it made me think. I’d always wanted to be an author so I decided I’d see if I could write too. I sat down and it took forever to get the opening scene down, but I finally did it.

Not long after I finished my second book, I heard about a writing contest sponsored by Oak Tree Press. At the last minute I decided to submit my manuscript. I mailed it off and promptly forgot about it.

A few months later I was eating ice cream when the phone rang. It was the publisher of Oak Tree Press who told me I’d won the Timeless Love contest. My prize? Publication of my story. I was so excited I forgot to put up the ice cream, and it melted everywhere.

If you’re interested in being an author, decide what kind of book you want to write, and then just sit down and write it. If you have a particular publisher you’d like to write for, read some of their books to get an idea what they like. Above all, polish that story until it sparkles.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Elaine Cantrell was born and raised in South Carolina where she obtained a master’s degree in personnel services from Clemson University.  She is a member of Alpha Delta Kappa, an international honorary society for women educators and Romance Writers of America.  Her first novel, A New Leaf, was the 2003 winner of the Timeless Love Contest.  When she’s not writing or teaching, she enjoys movies, quilting, reading, and collecting vintage Christmas ornaments.

 

 

Find Elaine at the following locations:

http://www.elainecantrell.com

http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/elainepcantrell

http://www.twitter.com/elainecantrell

http://www.pinterest.com/elainecantrell

http://www.goodreads.com/elainecantrell

http://www.amazon.com/Elaine-Cantrell/e/B001K7V90M/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1411604384&sr=1-2

Purchase on Amazon:  Fortuna

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You Can Have My Heart, But Don’t Touch My Dog by Dixie Cash

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Welcome to my stop for YOU CAN HAVE MY HEART, BUT DON’T TOUCH MY DOG by Dixie Cash.  Dixie will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. You can follow the tour here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2016/03/book-blast-you-can-have-my-heart-but.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

MediaKit_BookCover_YouCanTakeMyHeart

GENRE: Contemporary Romantic Comedy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

After two divorces, Sandi Walker, entrepreneur extraordinaire, is on her own and loving it. As a devout animal lover, she has made a success of the only gourmet pet food bakery in Midland, Texas. She’s also a pet foster parent and has fifteen assorted abused and unwanted animals at home. When a golden-colored stray dog with an abundance of personality appears at her door, she can’t refuse him and she can’t keep from falling in love with him. She names him Waffle and gives him a permanent home.
General Manager of the Flying C Ranch, Nick Conway, has searched for months for his lost dog, Buster. Giving up on ever finding him, he looks for a new dog and finds a puppy at a pet grooming shop. While he went to the shop to see a puppy, he also encountered a beautiful redheaded woman he can’t put out of his mind. Little does he know that she found Buster in an alley and has now claimed him as her own. Sparks fly between Sandi and Nick when he steals Buster and sues her in court for custody. It will take a mouthy parrot, a sitting judge, the matchmaking skills of the Domestic Equalizers and Cupid himself to resolve this conflict.

Excerpt:

She couldn’t help admiring the excellent view of his backside. Tight Wranglers hugging his tight bottom. He was the stereotypical cowboy. She was the first to point out, having lived in West Texas all of her life, that there were cowboys and then there were damn fine cowboys. The one leading a cow in front of her definitely fell into the latter category.

“Always good to have a plan,” she yelled.

Nick stopped suddenly and turned to face her. He thumbed his hat back, hitched his hip and cocked his knee. Oh, my God. John Wayne. Seconds turned into an eternity. “Speaking of plans,” he drawled, “is it your plan to stand in the road and get run over? Do I need to get another rope?”

Sandi’s jaw dropped. Her cheeks flamed. The very nerve!

She flung back her hair, turned on her heel and stomped back to her SUV. “What an asshole.” She jerked the door open and slid behind the wheel. “Did you hear him, Jake?”

“What the fuck?” Jake squawked.

“You’re exactly right, Jake. He talked to me like I didn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.”

Jake fluffed his feathers. “Don’t let me get wet. Don’t let me get wet.”

She started the engine, jerked the SUV into gear and roared past Mr. Nick Conway as Jake squawked loud enough to wake the dead, “What an asshole! What an asshole!”

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_YouCanHaveMyHeart

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Dixie Cash is Pamela Cumbie and her sister Jeffery McClanahan. They grew up in West Texas during the great oil boom, an era filled with “real-life fictional” characters who cry to be written about. Pam has always had a zany sense of humor and Jeffery has always had a dry wit. Surrounded by cowboys and steeped in country-western music, when they can stop laughing long enough they work together creating hilarity on paper. Both live in Texas–Pam in the Fort Worth-Dallas Metroplex and Jeffery in a small town near Fort Worth. Jeffery also writes steamy contemporary romance novels under the pen name of Anna Jeffrey.

LINKS

https://www.facebook.com/Dixie-Cash-342620327656/

https://twitter.com/dixie_cash

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4310.Dixie_Cash

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29427026-you-can-have-my-heart-but-don-t-touch-my-dog

https://www.harpercollins.com/cr-102073/dixie-cash

Amazon:  You Can Have My Heart, but Don’t Touch My Dog (The Domestic Equalizers Book 8)

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Release Day Review: Molly’s Misadventures by D.E. Haggerty

Romantic Comedy
Date Published: January 11, 2016
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I’m having the suckiest day ever. First, my father, aka Mr. Grumpy Pants, calls to say his nurse just walked out on him. Likely story. I rush home to pack only to walk in on my husband getting it on with his younger, skanky secretary. Unfortunately, my quick weekend trip home to fix Dad’s problems turns into a stay of a few weeks. Luckily, I’ve got Danny, the neighbor boy I had a crush on when I was a dorky, braces-wearing, nose-buried-in-a-book teenager, and a brand-spanking new blog to keep my mind off things. Before I know it, I’m writing product reviews of vibrators and getting questioned by a store rent-a-cop at the world’s worst date ever. All while trying to figure out how to take things with Danny to the next level. Not to complicate things or anything but my boss decides to give me an ultimatum – come back in four weeks or don’t come back at all. How in the world did my life get so complicated?
Excerpt
Danny clears his throat and turns to me. “I was going to ask you something about your blog.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you ever blog about me?”
I nearly choke on my wine. “Blog about you? The blogs are about my dates.”
“Babe, pay attention.” He grabs my chin. “What do you think we’re doing?”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Being good friends?”
He shakes his head. “Um, no. I’m wooing you.”
“Wooing me?”
“Yeah, wooing.” He points between us. “Do you think I drink wine on my porch with just anyone?”
I’m confused. “You don’t like wine?”
He chuckles. “Look at me. I’m a single guy with a kid. Why would I have wine in the house?”
The dominoes begin to fall in place. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Come over here.”
 He takes my wine and places it on the ground next to his glass before firmly grabbing my head and planting his lips on mine. The kiss is soft, sweet, and everything that’s right in the world. And it’s not enough. I want, no need, more. I grab his neck and pull him closer. He growls and grabs my head to tilt it to his liking so he can deepen the kiss. I’m putty in his hands by the time he eases up and pulls back. What. Just. Happened?
Review:
OMG I loved this book!  Molly rushes home to pack due to a family emergency with her sick father and finds her husband bonking his secretary on their couch.  She leaves left New York after taking a leave from her job and leaving her cheating husband.  I loved the characters, they were so colorful.  Molly’s friend Dianne pushes Molly to start writing and dating again and they start a blog.  The older ladies at Molly’s learn to blog class were hoots, loved them.  And then we have Danny, the hot guy next door that Molly crushed on in high school and who is now a single dad.  You won’t go wrong with this five star hilarious romantic comedy.
About the Author

I grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Woman. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage every once in a while to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. Another job change, this time from lawyer to B&B owner and I was again fed up and ready to scream I quit, which is incredibly difficult when you own the business. Thus, I shut the B&B during the week and in the off-season and started writing. Several books later I find myself in Istanbul writing full-time.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
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Molly’s Misadventures By D.E. Haggerty (Romantic Comedy!)

Romantic Comedy
Date Published: January 11, 2015
 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png
I’m having the suckiest day ever. First, my father, aka Mr. Grumpy Pants, calls to say his nurse just walked out on him. Likely story. I rush home to pack only to walk in on my husband getting it on with his younger, skanky secretary. Unfortunately, my quick weekend trip home to fix Dad’s problems turns into a stay of a few weeks. Luckily, I’ve got Danny, the neighbor boy I had a crush on when I was a dorky, braces-wearing, nose-buried-in-a-book teenager, and a brand-spanking new blog to keep my mind off things. Before I know it, I’m writing product reviews of vibrators and getting questioned by a store rent-a-cop at the world’s worst date ever. All while trying to figure out how to take things with Danny to the next level. Not to complicate things or anything but my boss decides to give me an ultimatum – come back in four weeks or don’t come back at all. How in the world did my life get so complicated?
Excerpt
Danny clears his throat and turns to me. “I was going to ask you something about your blog.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you ever blog about me?”
I nearly choke on my wine. “Blog about you? The blogs are about my dates.”
“Babe, pay attention.” He grabs my chin. “What do you think we’re doing?”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Being good friends?”
He shakes his head. “Um, no. I’m wooing you.”
“Wooing me?”
“Yeah, wooing.” He points between us. “Do you think I drink wine on my porch with just anyone?”
I’m confused. “You don’t like wine?”
He chuckles. “Look at me. I’m a single guy with a kid. Why would I have wine in the house?”
The dominoes begin to fall in place. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Come over here.”
 He takes my wine and places it on the ground next to his glass before firmly grabbing my head and planting his lips on mine. The kiss is soft, sweet, and everything that’s right in the world. And it’s not enough. I want, no need, more. I grab his neck and pull him closer. He growls and grabs my head to tilt it to his liking so he can deepen the kiss. I’m putty in his hands by the time he eases up and pulls back. What. Just. Happened?
About the Author

I grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Woman. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage every once in a while to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. Another job change, this time from lawyer to B&B owner and I was again fed up and ready to scream I quit, which is incredibly difficult when you own the business. Thus, I shut the B&B during the week and in the off-season and started writing. Several books later I find myself in Istanbul writing full-time.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
Giveaway
$10 Amazon gift card
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Cover Reveal: Cross The Line By Julie Johnson

Cover Reveal

CROSS THE LINE by Julie Johnson front cover

Book Title: Cross The Line
Author: Julie Johnson
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Comedy
Release Date: November 10, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

Phoebe West has been head-over-heels in love with her brother’s best friend for as long as she can remember.

Not that he’s bothered to notice.

Despite several mortifying attempts at seduction and a decade’s worth of unrequited pining, nothing Phoebe does seems to make any impact on the man she’s obsessed over since her bra-stuffing days. She knows it’s time to let him go, though just the thought is nearly enough to shatter her…

Nathaniel “Nate” Knox has only ever seen Phoebe as one thing: forbidden.

There’s a darkness in Nate, the kind you can’t avoid after years working in special forces and private security. He’s no good for anyone — especially not someone as sweet as his best friend’s little sister. He knows he can’t have her. Not ever. Even if she makes him feel things he barely recognizes…

Some lines aren’t meant to be crossed.

When an unforeseeable series of events sends Phoebe stumbling headfirst into danger, there’s only one man who can protect her. Though, in his quest to save her life, he may just break her heart…

CROSS THE LINE is a full-length contemporary romance about a woman who can’t seem to walk away… and the man who’ll go to any length to keep her safe. Due to sparks flying, suspenseful moments, steamy scenes, and one sassy heroine, it is recommended to readers ages 17 and up.

excerpt

“Fuck!”

The curse bursts from my mouth before I can stop it — an involuntary reaction to the tape tearing at my skin. Pain stings my chapped, bleeding lips. My head falls forward, hair cascading in a tangled, dark brown curtain around my face as I gasp for much-needed air. Breathing through my nose for the past few hours has left me lightheaded. Without the tight loops of rope around my midsection I’d slide to the floor like a wet piece of linguine, boneless and weak.

God, my mouth is drier than the Sahara, now that whatever sedative he slipped me is wearing off. I’d give my virginity for a single glass of water. My tongue darts out to catch the trickle of blood oozing from one of the cracks. Sticky tape residue coats my split lips like superglue.

“Take this and shut the fuck up.” He shoves a copy of today’s Boston Globe into my tethered hands. “And don’t cover the fucking date.”

My fingertips curl awkwardly around the top edge, arms gawking at an odd angle against their bonds as I try to maintain my grip without blocking the bold typeface at the corner. My eyes scan the headlines briefly — nothing exceptional jumps out.

Sox Sweep: Red Sox take Cardinals 4-0 in Fenway Victory

Mayor Walsh Approves Anti-Tobacco Bill

Spring Storms Cause Citywide Power Outages

There it is: the rest of the world, carrying on as though nothing happened. As though I’m not tied to a chair in a dark basement somewhere, breathing in toxic black mold spores — they need to get an exterminator down here pronto, this stuff can’t be healthy for your lungs — all while praying to god they don’t kill me.

Because, well…. I can’t die. Not when I’ve barely lived.

I’m only twenty-three. I haven’t gone skydiving or ever been kissed passionately in the rain. I haven’t had a chance to try out a surely-disastrous pixie cut, or tan topless on a beach in the French Riviera. I’ve haven’t gone cage swimming with sharks or told the man I’m crazy about that I love him. Hate him. Want him. Want to kill him?

Oh, who the hell knows.

I’ve never been in a committed relationship. Hell, I’ve never even had an orgasm.

Seriously, I can’t go to my grave without at least one Big O on my record. That’s a crime against humanity.

“Your daddy wants proof of life,” he sneers, snapping me back to reality. “Hold it up so I can see it. You cooperate, you go home. You don’t…”

He doesn’t fill in the rest; doesn’t need to. It’s pretty self-explanatory, as threats go.

I contemplate tossing the paper to the floor at his feet, but I’m not exactly in a position to fight back. I try to lift my arms higher, but it’s not easy to do much of anything with the cord wrapped so tight around my wrists. The skin has gone raw where the rope digs into my flesh and my fingers feel tingly from lack of circulation. Unable to shift on the cold metal seat, everything below the waist is pretty much numb.

Once, I watched a YouTube video showing how to escape if your hands are ever bound with duct tape. Just my luck I’d end up with the one kidnapper in the world who still uses rope to restrain his victims’ limbs.

He strides across the room and flips on a set of overhead track lights, the sudden flare of the bulbs making my eyes water. I squint to keep him in focus as he sets his iPhone on a tripod and aims it at me.

“Smile for the camera, love.” His lips twist in a cruel grin and I wonder for the thousandth time how I missed it — the sociopathic gleam in his eyes, the dark edge to his charm. How could I have been so blind?

Oh, right.

The dimples. And the muscles. And dear god, the way he fills out a pair of dress pants…

Frankly, I never stood a chance.

“Come on, Phoebe. You can do better than that.” His eyes narrow. “Daddy will be wanting an update on his darling daughter’s safety.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, glaring at him.

“That can be arranged,” he volleys back flatly, the threat sending a cold tingle down my spine.

“You won’t get away with this… This… whatever you’re planning.” My words sound remarkably steady, considering my insides have dissolved into jelly. “He’ll never pay the ransom.”

“He’ll pay with his money or you’ll pay with your life. ” He leans toward me, face dark with anger, those stunning eyes narrowed on my wide hazel ones. “Either way, the Wests are going to fucking pay.”

My throat convulses.

I’m totally going to die a virgin.

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Meet the Author

JULIE JOHNSON is a twenty-something Boston native suffering from an extreme case of Peter Pan Syndrome and an obsession with fictional characters. When she’s not writing, Julie can most often be found daydreaming, drinking too much coffee, striving to conquer her Netflix queue, or stalking Goodreads for new books to add to her ever-growing TBR list.

She published her debut novel LIKE GRAVITY in August 2013, just before her senior year of college, and she’s never looked back. Since, she has published three more novels: SAY THE WORD, ERASING FAITH, and NOT YOU IT’S ME. Her books have appeared on Kindle and iTunes Bestseller lists around the world.

You can find Julie on Facebook or contact her on her website www.juliejohnsonbooks.com. Sometimes, when she can figure out how Twitter works, she tweets from @AuthorJulie. For major book news and updates, subscribe to Julie’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bnWtHH

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SPOTLIGHT: DRIVING HER CRAZY BY KIRA ARCHER

Book Title: Driving Her CrazyDHC_500

Author: Kira Archer

Release Date: Aug 17, 2015

Genre: romantic comedy

Book Synopsis: Cher Debusshere hates being the black sheep of her posh, well-to-do family almost as much as she hates driving—which is exactly what she’s forced to do when her flight home for her perfect sister’s wedding is grounded. Fan-freakin’-tastic. Then a hot guy offers to share both the car rental and the driving duties…only to drive her crazy by assuming she’s just some spoiled little rich girl.

Mechanic Nathaniel “Oz” Oserkowski is about as blue-collar as they come. There’s never been a time he hasn’t worked his ass off, and he’s determined to prove it to the gorgeous princess in the passenger seat. As the miles pass, they bait and needle each other…until their lust and longing gets so hot it nearly overheats the engine.

They have nothing in common. Hell, they can barely stand each other. But sometimes it takes a journey to change the destination…

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Kira ArcherAuthor Bio: Kira Archer resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kiddos, and far too many animals in the house. She tends to laugh at inappropriate moments, break all the rules she gives her kids (but only when they aren’t looking), and would rather be reading a book than doing almost anything else. She has odd, eclectic tastes in just about everything and often lets her imagination run away with her. She loves a variety of genres and along with contemporary romances, she writes historicals as Michelle McLean.

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Giveaway Info: $25 Amazon gift card International entrants welcome.

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Excerpt from Driving Her Crazy by Kira Archer

She’d meant only to kiss him quickly, just enough to show him she could be crazy and unpredictable. But the second her lips touched his, something short-wired in her brain. Nothing mattered but getting more of him. Her lips parted beneath his, inviting him in. He groaned and pressed her closer, his tongue dancing with hers until her head swam. His hand trailed up her side, the plastic of her poncho crinkling as his thumb just brushed the side of her breast.

She threw her head back, the touch setting her on fire. He kissed her exposed throat, nipping at the tender flesh beneath her ear. She arched against him, wanting more, wanting everything. And he seemed more than willing to accommodate.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. I’m kissing him. I’m not just kissing him, I am trying to suck his tonsils out and praying to God he’ll do the same to me.

Nathaniel’s hand gripped the back of Cherice’s neck, angling her face better so his tongue could delve deep into her mouth, exploring every inch.

Oh, yeah. Just like that. Oh God.

What the hell am I doing? This is so wrong. Although. I’m single. He’s single. He can do whatever he wants. So can I. But do I want this? I don’t even know him. Oh God, I am making out with a guy I don’t even know. Does that make me a slut? What if he thinks I’m a slut?

He leaned farther back against the door, pulling her on top of him. His hand roamed over her butt, squeezing the trembling flesh, pressing it tighter against the hot, hard length of him.

Holy shit, I don’t even care. He can think whatever he wants as long as he does that again.

“Cher.”

Hmm?”

His lips trailed their way up her neck.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

His teeth grazed her chin. Pulled her earlobe into his mouth for a quick nip. She sucked in her breath, nearly sobbing at the sensation that shot straight to her groin.

“Am I?”

“Yes. You are. So tell yourself to shut up and just kiss me.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.”

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Release Day: Rye Must Die (An Izy & Max Paranormal Comedy) By Dakota Madison & Savannah Young

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Book Title: Rye Must Die (An Izy & Max Paranormal Comedy)
Author: Dakota Madison & Savannah Young
Genre: Paranormal Romantic Comedy
Release Date: July 24, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

There’s a fine line between sexy alpha and creepy stalker…and Rye has crossed it.

RYE MUST DIE is a SHORT NOVELLA by USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison and Savannah Young. It can be read as a STANDALONE or as part of the ongoing series.

Izzy Grant is supposed to be dead, suicide by hanging. But when she regains consciousness, she’s still alive and still the crazy girl voted Most Likely to Kill Herself in high school. She’s still the girl who everyone in Old Town loves to hate.

But one thing had changed. He saved her life, a man wearing all black and riding a motorcycle. He pulled her down from the tree and made sure she was still breathing.

Now he’s following her. Izzy doesn’t know why, but she’s eager to find out.

excerpt

Prologue

I gasp for breath. Then I cough. The brisk air stings my lungs.

I’m on the cold, hard ground, not hanging from the tree like I’m supposed to be, and I’m definitely not dead.

When I open my eyes I’m glad it’s dusk. I don’t think I could take the glare of the sun right now. Dusk was always my favorite time of day, when nature’s light is fading away.

My neck feels raw, but there’s no rope on it. I search around me, but the rope seems to have vanished.

I spot a guy dressed in all black. He’s sitting on a black H-D Iron 883, very similar to the motorcycle I ride.

A shiver runs through me when I realize the guy is watching me.

He must have been the one who did it. He cut me down from the tree. I have a vague memory of a struggle. Of strong arms grabbing me and holding me tight. I fought against him, but I was hopelessly outmatched.

I wanted to die but I realized he wasn’t going to let me.

Then I blacked out, and woke up on the ground.

I wonder how long he’s going to sit there. It’s almost like he’s guarding me. Then he opens a black satchel on his bike and removes a rope—my rope—and holds it up for me to see.

I feel like he’s taunting me with it. Why does this asshole care if I live or die?

When I give him the finger he doesn’t respond. He just puts on his dark helmet and speeds away, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

I think about some of the other ways I could kill myself, but those methods leave a margin of error that I’m not comfortable with. I don’t want to jump in front of a moving truck only to be paralyzed for life and still not dead.

Besides, I’m suddenly hungry and craving a burger and fries in the worst way. I guess today is not the day for me to die.

Six Weeks Later

Another exciting day at the Old Town Antique Shop. I’ve had only two customers and only one who actually bought something. It’s a good thing the building is completely paid for, I live right upstairs, and my grandmother was extremely generous to me in her will. I certainly couldn’t afford to run a real business on the pittance the store makes on a weekly basis.

I would have been out of Old Town by now if my grandmother didn’t croak. And she didn’t stipulate in her will that I had to keep the antique shop running in order to get the money she entrusted to me. I’m the last living member of the Grant family and I now have the honor of running the business that’s been in our family for generations.

I glance down at the stash of romance novels I keep hidden under the counter. I know they’re cheesy, but right now they’re the only things that are keeping me from slashing my wrists when I’m in the bathtub. They give me the slightest bit of hope that maybe someday; someone will love the town pariah. Even the meanest girls in romance novels always get the guy.

I’m deep in a very hot sex scene when I’m startled by the little bell that chimes when the front door opens.

I’m even more surprised by the guy who walks into my shop. Or more like strolls in. He’s wearing a wild flowered Hawaiian shirt over a red Green Day T-shirt, faded cargo pants and red converse high tops. He runs his hands through his mop of sun-bleached blond hair, but it doesn’t help. Old Town is always windy, but his hair isn’t just windblown. It’s a little too long and looks shaggy.

He’s definitely not from Old Town.

After giving me a quick once over he grins. His grin is too wide and his teeth are too perfect and too white. I already hate him.

“You know we’re nowhere near the shore?” I try not to sound as disgusted as this guy is making me.

He laughs. He seems like the kind of guy who laughs easily. I hate him even more.

“I’m not here to surf.”

I give him a once over. “You could have fooled me.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a shiny business card. He wiggles it in my face so the light overhead reflects off of it.

I rip the card out of his hand just to make the glare stop. “What’s wrong with you?”

He laughs again, which makes me even more perturbed. Not that it’s difficult to do. Most people are able to get on my bad side pretty quickly.

“Do you want a list?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I shake my head and examine his card:

Old Town Ghost Tours. Max Elliot, Paranormal Investigator.

Great. Not only is he starting to be the most annoying person on the planet, he’s also one of those ghost hunting freaks.

I try to hand the card back to him, but he puts his hands up and shakes them at me. “The card is yours to keep.”

If I had a trash can close I’d make a point of throwing the thing inside of it, but the trash can is on the other side of this weirdo and I don’t feel like walking past him to get to it.

“You didn’t answer my question.” I glare at him.

“What’s wrong with me?” He looks down at his watch, which I now notice has Mickey Mouse on it. “How much time do you have?”

I give an exasperated sigh. “What can I help you with?”

He grins again. Boy does this guy like to smile a lot. He must think it’s charming, and maybe some girls are into that, but I’m definitely not one of them. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve smiled so far this year.

And I don’t go for blonds and definitely not beach boy blonds with big smiles. I prefer the dark and dangerous type, all in black leather, preferably riding a motorcycle.

“I’d love for you to go out with me, but we can negotiate that later. I’m here to see Alberta Grant. Something tells me that you’re not Alberta.”

“I’m Izzy Grant,” I reply, but I’m not sure why. I don’t really want anything to do with this guy.

“What’s Izzy short for?”

I frown. “Izzy.”

No one calls me by my given name, and definitely not this guy. I only give it out on a need-to-know basis.

“Okay, Izzy. How can I find Alberta?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re obviously not from around here.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, you’re not wearing jeans and cowboy boots for starters.” And you have no idea my grandmother is dead. Everyone in town knows that.

He points to his business card lying on the counter. “Just moved here. I’m trying to start a business.”

“In Old Town?”

He nods. “I’m going to capitalize on the popularity of the Tawnee Mountain Resort. The guests need some nighttime entertainment and ghost hunting is really popular right now.”

I don’t feel like stating the obvious. That there’s no such thing as ghosts.

I decide to play with the guy because he’s annoying and it’s not like I have anything better to do.

“Alberta isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.”

He grins again. Oh how I wish I could just slap that big grin right off of his perfect, beach boy face. Then he looks around the place. “Are you sure you aren’t too busy?”

I narrow my gaze at him. “I’ll make time for you.”

“See, you already like me.”

If he only knew.

I lock up the store and hang up my OUT TO LUNCH sign. Max follows me to the small parking lot on the side of the store.

I stop in front of my old Harley H-D Iron 883. “Do you want a ride? I’ve got an extra helmet.”

He laughs. “There is no way I’m riding on the back of a chick’s motorcycle.”

I point a finger in his face. “I’m not a chick. And if you ever call me that again, I’ll rip your dick off.”

He puts his hands up. “Okay, chill. It’s just an expression. Can we take my car instead?”

I glance at the bright red Mini Cooper parked at the other end of the parking lot. “That’s not a real vehicle. That’s a clown car.”

“This isn’t just any Mini Cooper. It’s a special limited edition.”

I frown. “Just an FYI. If you plan on living in Old Town you’ll attract a lot less attention if you’re driving a pickup, preferably a Ford or a Dodge Ram.”

He grins. Another one of those huge grins that irritate every nerve in my body. “Who says I don’t want attention?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.”

I’m short, only about five feet two inches, and I’m worried about fitting inside that car. I have no idea how Max, who’s easily a foot taller than me, fits inside of it.

“Okay, we can take your car,” I agree, but only because I want to see how he squeezes inside that thing.

He pulls his keys from his pocket and starts throwing them in the air like he’s juggling with them. The guy has no shortage of ways to completely annoy me.

To my surprise Max fits into his car better than I imaged he would. He’s got the seat pushed back as far as it will go, so his legs aren’t cramped.

“You could buy a bigger car,” I say as I snap on my seat belt. “Being such a big guy.”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? This car is a chick magnet. I’ve known you less than fifteen minutes and I’ve already got you inside of it.”

When he winks at me I feel a little bile rise in my throat like I want to vomit. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not my type.”

He waves the comment off like a mosquito. “I’m everyone’s type.”

“Not mine,” I repeat.

“You won’t know for sure until you’ve had a chance to test the goods.” Then he winks at me.

Now I’m really going to be sick. “I’m not interested in testing any of your goods. Do you want to see my grandmother or not?”

He heaves a sigh. “Tell me where to drive.”

Five minutes later we pull up to the Old Town Cemetery. As soon as Max parks the car he turns and looks at me. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“You’re the ghost hunter. Isn’t this like your Valhalla or something?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Most graveyards aren’t haunted. Spirits like to stay close to loved ones, or places they were most familiar with before they died.”

“Whatever you say.” I open the door and hop out of his clown car.

I’m surprised when he follows. Part of me thought he’d just turn the engine back on and speed away.

As I open the cemetery gate I’m overwhelmed with sadness…again. It’s been happening a lot lately…ever since my grandmother died. She was the last of my relatives, and now I’m alone in the world. Not that I’m not used to being a loner. I’m known for it. But being alone, without any family to anchor me, makes me feel truly lost.

Alberta Grant wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but she was my rock. She lived to be ninety, and from what I’ve heard around town, spent at least forty of those years being a cantankerous old broad, who was both feared and admired.

I seem to be following in her footsteps. Except for the ad-mired part. People in Old Town say I’m freak and a bitch and tend to steer clear.

And I’m okay with that.

When I find my grandmother’s headstone I clear away the leaves that have fallen on it.

“How did she die?” Max asks. His tone is actually sincere. He’s finally dropped the overdone surfer-boy salesman act.

“She was old. Ninety.”

He nods. “Do you miss her?”

“More than I ever thought I would.”

He’s actually quiet as he stands there with me. He’s slightly attractive when he’s not talking. It’s when he opens his pie hole that he’s a complete turn off.

As we drive back toward the antique shop I have a brief moment of panic when Max passes right by it.

“You missed my stop.”

“I know,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Let me out. Now.” I can feel my pulse start to race. I briefly consider jumping out of the car, but I’m not wearing my leather today so the pavement would definitely hurt as I slid across it.

“It’s okay.” When Max glances over at me, I can see concern in his eyes. “I’m just going to take you to lunch. My treat.”

I take in a deep breath and try to calm my frayed nerves. “Lunch?”

“You put an OUT TO LUNCH sign on your door,” he reminds me. “So I’m taking you to lunch.”

“You’ll do anything for a date, won’t you?”

“So you’re actually going on a date with me?” He grins. “And here I thought you were a tough girl.”

I huff. “Do I have a choice? You kind of have me trapped in your clown car.”

When he glances over at me his eyes have turned serious. “You always have a choice. Don’t ever forget that.”

I nod, but we’re both quiet as we head back into the center of Old Town.

If only all guys thought the way he does, my life wouldn’t be a complete and total mess.

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Meet the Author

USA TODAY Bestselling author Dakota Madison is known for writing New Adult and contemporary romance with a little spice and lots of heart. She likes to explore current social issues in her work. Dakota is a winner of the prestigious RONE Award for Excellence in the Indie and Small Publishing Industry. When she’s not at her computer creating spicy stories Dakota likes to spend time with her husband and their bloodhounds at their home outside Phoenix, Arizona.

Romance novelist SAVANNAH YOUNG grew up in rural northwest New Jersey in a place very similar to the fictional Old Town, which is featured in her books. When she’s not at her computer creating spicy stories, Savannah is traveling to exotic locales or spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds.

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