Friday, February 28, 2014

EXCERPT BLAST for About Last Night by Ruthie Knox

About Last Night
We are pleased to be able to share an excerpt from Ruthie Knox's ABOUT LAST NIGHT! ABOUT LAST NIGHT is a contemporary romance, published by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House. ABOUT LAST NIGHT is on sale for $.99 right now for a limited time only, so grab it now! ABOUT LAST NIGHT Synopsis: Sure, opposites attract, but in this sexy, smart, eBook original romance from RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox, they positively combust! When a buttoned-up banker falls for a bad girl, "about last night" is just the beginning. CathTalarico knows a mistake when she makes it, and God knows she's made her share. So many, in fact, that this Chicago girl knows London is her last, best shot at starting over. But bad habits are hard to break, and soon Cath finds herself back where she has vowed never to go . . . in the bed of a man who is all kinds of wrong: too rich, too classy, too uptight for a free-spirited troublemaker like her. Nev Chamberlain feels trapped and miserable in his family's banking empire. But beneath his pinstripes is an artist and bohemian struggling to break free and lose control. Mary Catherine--even her name turns him on--with her tattoos, her secrets, and her gamine, sex-starved body, unleashes all kinds of fantasies. When blue blood mixes with bad blood, can a couple that is definitely wrong for each other ever be perfectly right? And with a little luck and a lot of love, can they make last night last a lifetime? Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: Because of You, Ride with Me, and Midnight Hour.
  • A 2013 finalist for the RITA award in contemporary single-title romance from Romance Writers of America
  • A 2012 Reviewers' Choice Best Book Award nominee in the "Contemporary Love and Laughter" category, Romantic Times magazine
  • A Library Journal Best Ebook Romance of 2012
  • A Reviewers Choice Award 2012 Pick, All About Romance
  • A Best Contemporary Romance 2012 nominee at The Romance Reviews
  • A 2013 DABWAHA nominee

EXCERPT: Cath leaned against a table strewn with crumpled tubes of paint and jars full of brushes, pressing her damp palms against the surface and willing her heart to stop pounding. You’re not really attracted to City. You’re just looking for your clothes, and then you’re going home. A blip, remember? This is a blip. Dimly, she realized he’d spoken. “Sorry, what?” His lips twitched, and the dimple made another appearance. “I only said ‘Good morning.’ Are you all right?” She’d been on the money predicting he’d have a posh accent, anyway. Maybe she could blame the hangover for her reaction to the smile. She needed to eat something. Or get laid. It had been a while. Could you still say that when it had been two years? It had been a while. “That depends,” she said. “On?” “On what I did last night.” He pursed his perfect lips, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “You don’t remember?” “Not much.” She drew her index finger along the surface of his worktable, as if checking for dust. “Do you remember refusing to tell me your name or where you live?” “We talked?” Funny, she couldn’t resurrect any memories of speaking to him. Only his hand, warm and solid, guiding her. Only the way he’d made her feel. The way he was still making her feel, come to think of it. She was bare-legged in this strange man’s apartment, asking him to reveal the details of what she’d done while drunk last night. The situation ought to have been intimidating. She ought to have been queasy with remorse. She wasn’t, and she could only conclude the reason was City. He projected calm. “You kept calling me ‘City,’” he said. Cath nodded. “Yep. That’s what I call you.” He gave her a wry smile, and she held on tight to the edge of the table. Maybe calm didn’t quite cover it. Not when he smiled, anyway. “That’s precisely what you said last night.” His voice wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It was low and warm and soothing, and it took the edge right off his fancy accent. “Did I say why I wouldn’t tell you my name?” The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate. “You told me you were sad and quite tired, but you didn’t require my help, and all you needed to set yourself to rights was a cup of coffee and something to eat.” “So how did I—” He raised one finger to prevent her interruption, his eyes twinkling with amusement. She’d never noticed how unusual his eyes were before. They were green over brown, both exotic and warm. “Then,” he continued, “when I tried to introduce myself properly, you covered my mouth with your hand and insisted we remain strangers, because you could tell I was a very nice man”—he pronounced the word nice as if it were a razor blade he was carefully spitting out—“and I’d be far better off not knowing you.” Cath was impressed. Her drunk self had more sense than she’d given her credit for. “That’s true,” she offered. “I’m not really your type.” He cocked an eyebrow but let the comment slide. “Since I’m here, I guess that means you took a pass on the opportunity to hop the next train and leave me to my own devices?” “It was nearly midnight,” he said, defensive. “All the shops were closed, there were no cabs to be found, you wouldn’t tell me where you lived or let me see you home, and you could barely stand up. So yes, bringing you here seemed like the right thing to do.” A thought distracted her from the question she’d been forming. “What were you doing at Canary Wharf at midnight on a Friday?” “Trolling for prostitutes.” He delivered the line in such a dry, remote tone, it took her a second to get that he was joking, but when she did, she couldn’t prevent herself from teasing, “You must have been so disappointed with the selection.” She glanced down at her small, decidedly unvoluptuous body in the oversized shirt. “I wouldn’t say that, love.” The dimple appeared again. She lost a few seconds gazing at his mouth, and then she came to and let her eyes slide down his torso to alight on his hand, which still held a paintbrush. She hadn’t expected the smile. Or the paintbrush. She definitely hadn’t expected him to flirt with her. “I’d been to see a film,” he explained. “I passed out,” she replied, attempting to steer the conversation back toward the safer ground of her humiliation so that she could get the details she needed and scurry home. “I suppose you did. You were terribly tired. I made a pot of tea, and by the time I’d finished you were asleep at my kitchen table. I tried to rouse you, but you said, ‘Leave me alone,’ and then something that sounded very much like, ‘Don’t murder me.’” He reported all this matter-of-factly, as if drunk women passed out on his kitchen table every Friday night. Which, for all you know, they do. “Nice of you not to.” “I seem to have convinced you I’m a nice man.” Cath nodded her agreement, though he didn’t look all that nice at the moment. The gleam in those green-brown eyes was positively rakish. She hadn’t thought City had a speck of rakishness in him. “Sorry about the stripping part,” she mumbled, partly because she was sorry but mostly because she wondered what he’d say. The smile he gave her made her toes curl, it was so wicked. “You do remember,” he said in that low rumble. “You were very, uh, gentlemanly about that.” “You were very intoxicated.” He turned away to set the paintbrush down on the tray at the base of his easel. “Yeah.” She stared at her toes until they uncurled. This was her cue to ask what he’d done with her clothes. She would have, only City asked, “How are you feeling?” and so she had to keep talking to him. She tried to mind it but failed. The man was proving to be an enjoyable conversationalist, and he was remarkably easy on the eyes. “I’m fine, thanks. I have a little headache, but the shower helped. And the toothbrush.” “Glad to hear it. Would you like breakfast? I fried up some bacon.” The mention of bacon made her stomach rumble. “That sounds like a yes.” “I do have a weakness for the bacon-sandwich hangover cure,” she admitted. “But it seems a little lowbrow for you, City. I can’t imagine you drunk, much less hungover.” He took a few steps closer and studied her, an unabashed appraisal that should have been rude or even scary but instead sent syrupy heat creeping through her abdomen. “Considering you don’t know my name, you seem to have a lot of ideas about me.” Oh, she had ideas. She had a whole slew of new ideas about him, and she needed to find an exit strategy quick, because none of them was on the list of things she was supposed to be thinking about. Banker, she reminded herself. He’s a banker, a very boring banker. Enough already. Just, whatever you do, don’t flirt with him. “I don’t need to know your name. I’ve seen you around, and I know your type.” Aaaand she was flirting with him. It won her a smirk. “What’s my type, then?” “For starters, you come from money. You went to expensive boarding schools, graduated from either Oxford or Cambridge, and now you work at a bank in the City—thus the name.” He frowned and wiped his hand over his mouth. What a mouth. “Just let me know when I get something wrong,” she offered. “By all means, carry on. You’re doing a brilliant job so far.” “Which was it, Oxford or Cambridge?” “Cambridge. Trinity College.” She resisted the urge to gloat. Gloating was well outside the range of acceptable responses to City on this particular morning. So is flirting with him. Right. But it was so much fun. She hadn’t flirted in ages. “Let’s see,” she said. “I know you like to jog. Judging by those shoulders and arms, I’d say you also row, yeah?” “Some. I play rugby, too.” He gave her half a smile, and she made an effort to suppress the image of City in a rugby jersey with pink cheeks and dirty knees, tussling over a ball. A human orgasm. Her good sense was now officially yelling Mayday! She was now officially ignoring it. “What do I do for fun, then?” He stepped even closer. This flirtation had turned into a two-way party. She needed to find a method of steering the conversation back toward bacon sandwiches and, say, the location of her skirt, because it probably wasn’t good that she could smell him now, and on this man linseed oil was an aphrodisiac. “Well, you go to the symphony, spend weekends in the countryside, and date women who wear twinsets and have names like—” Without the least bit of warning, he kissed her. Not a preamble sort of kiss, either. No, he really kissed her, one huge hand cupping the back of her neck, and his warm, firm lips knew exactly what they were doing, which was driving every single thought from her head. Only the man remained, the mouth, the sensations coursing through her, heating her up from the inside. Heating her up fast. Could all bankers kiss like this? Cath rose on her toes, angling her mouth and pressing closer, but he pulled back a few inches. Then a few feet. She wanted to say something. The only word that came out of her mouth was a shaky “Whoa.” She tried again. “What was that, City?” “You tell me, Yank.” His lips curved into that sexy smirk again. “I’m pretty sure you just kissed me.” “Yes, I did. Shall I apologize?” “What for?” “It was terribly impolite. I didn’t ask your permission.” Cath leaned back against the table, crossed her arms over the tight peaks of her nipples, and tried not to smile like a girl who’d just been kissed silly. She failed. She was failing a lot around this guy. It ought to have been worrisome, or at least embarrassing, but his lips had liquefied her brain. First kiss in two years would do that, she supposed. “I was much more impolite than you. What with the passing out and all. You’re being very nice about it.” City scrubbed his hand over his jawline, pensive now. “I would appreciate it,” he said after a moment, “if you would stop calling me ‘nice.’” He took a step closer, and her heart rate spiked. “You are nice.” Her voice came out all weak and wavery. This was how Little Red Riding Hood had felt when she’d discovered the Big Bad Wolf wearing Grandma’s bonnet. “No,” he replied. “I’m not.” Another step, and his eyes traced a path over her arms, down her stomach to her hips. The brightly lit art studio made her purple underwear visible through the white T-shirt. She could tell that City noticed, and that he was enjoying the view. She sat down on the edge of the table. “You brought me here with impure motives?” The idea gave her a stupid thrill. He shook his head. “No. I developed them after you arrived.” Cath fingered the hem of the shirt where it hit her mid-thigh. “You shouldn’t admit to that sort of thing. It’s perverted to lust after half-naked drunk girls.” “Not perverted.” He stepped closer until his thighs brushed her knees. “Only male. And at any rate, you didn’t get me lusting with the strip show. Though it was . . . fetching.” “No?” It was a wonder she could speak at all, considering there was a tall, hard, hot man crowding her and using up all the oxygen. “What irresistibly attractive thing did I do, then?” One more step, and he was between her legs. “You talked. Rather a lot.” “About what?” “All sorts of nonsense. You’re not very fond of my country, I gather.” Cath shrugged, sheepish. “Sometimes I miss Chicago.” “I’d never heard you talk before. You ought to do it more. It’s charming.” “People who talk to themselves at the train station are generally understood to be crazy. Especially in your country.” “You could talk to me.” “I hardly know you.” “I’m superb,” he said. “You’re going to like me.” Big, warm hands covered her bare thighs, and she shivered. “Though I should probably reiterate, I’m not at all nice.” “I am,” she whispered. “I’m a very good person. Not the kind of girl who gets drunk and has to be rescued from train stations.” “I know.” He moved his hands up a few inches to the crease where her thighs met her hips. “Or who makes out with strange men on tables. I’m a thoroughly respectable woman.” “You don’t kiss like one.” He smiled that shark smile again. New Cath had a death grip on the tattered vestiges of her willpower, but she’d lost control over her body. Her palms smoothed over the muscles of his forearms, and her butt scooted her closer to the edge of the table by an inch or two. Or four. At least her mouth still worked. “I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.” “Don’t reform. I like you bad.” “I don’t want to be bad.” But her arms had reached up and twined around his neck, and she had to murmur the last part against his lips. “I do,” he said, and took over. Available for purchase at these and other retailers: Amazon Barnes and Noble   .99 now   Author PhotoABOUT RUTHIE KNOX: USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox writes contemporary romance that’s sexy, witty, and angsty—sometimes all three at once. After training to be a British historian, she became an academic editor instead. Then she got really deeply into knitting, as one does, followed by motherhood and romance novel writing. Her debut novel, Ride with Me, is probably the only existing cross-country bicycling love story. She followed it up with About Last Night, a London-set romance whose hero has the unlikely name of Neville, and then Room at the Inn, a Christmas novella—both of which were finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award. Her four-book series about the Clark family of Camelot, Ohio, has won accolades for its fresh, funny portrayal of small-town Midwestern life. Ruthie moonlights as a mother, Tweets incessantly, and bakes a mean focaccia. She’d love to hear from you, so visit her website at and drop her a line.   LINKS: Website: Facebook: Twitter:!/ruthieknox ABOUT LAST NIGHT Goodreads: Ruthie KnoxGoodreads:

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Book Blitz for Crashing Back Down by Kristen Hope Mazzola

Title: Crashing Back Down
Author: Kristen Hope Mazzola
 Release Date: November 4, 2013 

Mags McManus has just become a war widow in her mid-twenties. Her late husband, Randy, left for the Army right after their wedding. Instead of celebrating his homecoming and living in marital bliss with her soulmate, Mags finds herself living in constant agony. Dealing with the guilt of still living without Randy, are Randy's best friends and parents.

Rising from the ashes of this tragedy, Mags starts to learn how to love and trust again, finally being able to find happiness. But sometimes things really are too good to be true and again Mags learns how cruel the world can be as she crashes back down.

**18+ for sexual situations, cursing and adult content**
A portion of all royalties from Crashing Back Down are donated by the author to The Marcie Mazzola Foundation.

Kristen Hope Mazzola is an up and coming independent author from sunny South Florida. Crashing Back Down is her debut into the literary world. Kristen is currently working on the rest of her Crashing Series, which will include a sequel, Falling Back Together, and a prequel, Walking Away. She even has a few more tricks up her sleeve, with more characters to introduce and more twists to unravel, so keep your eye on this talented young author!

When Kristen is not driving a pen into paper, she enjoys reading all different genres and fishing. “There is just something so magical about water and the calm it brings to my life,” says Kristen. Even though writing is not her only career she is pursuing, Kristen hopes to one day be a full time writer. Having a day job and a busy life, makes finding time for writing difficult, but anything worthwhile in life is difficult. Loving life, writing, and fishing basically make up her world.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

My Way Series by HJ Bellus Blitz Tour

(My Way Series, #1)

Whose parents abandon them in a trashy trailer when they are five years old? Oh Yeah! Mine do!

Hey Hoochies! I'm Milly, and I am tired of taking kicks to the gut. A broken family, an asshole husband and the loss of loved ones have left me crying Uncle, and declaring a serious case of the Fuck-Its! 

I had my heart broken, stomped on and shattered before I ever started on my journey to find my little piece of happiness. With a bucket list, a '66 Ford and wild dreams, I set out on an adventure that changed my life forever. 

I found Cree… 

A pirate with a little princess and they swept me off my ever lovin' feet, filling my world with sprinkles, mac n’ cheese and the courage to live again. 

They forced my fragile heart to trust and love without fear. 

But the truth is, nobody’s past stays hidden forever. It’s an invisible monster waiting to attack and destroy. It has the capability to ruin everything you’ve worked to set right. 

All it takes is one final blow to the gut to end everything…

Add on Goodreads

Excerpt #2 CREE

His voice snapped me out of my trance.

“Annie, I told you to put on some clothes.”

“Daddy, I am trying to play Malibu Barbie here!” she said as she cocked her hand on one hip and shook her head at her dad.  This girl had some sass and I loved it.

“Do you mind if I help her finish her Malibu Barbie outfit while you finish dinner?”

“Sure go ahead.  Be back here in ten minutes though, ladies.”

Annie led me to her very pink and purple bedroom.  She had a canopy bed, fairies, Barbies, princesses - you name it, this girl had it.  Her room was very clean and organized.  With a very serious face, Annie explained to me that she wanted to dress up as Malibu Barbie.

I took her hair down and combed through the knots she managed to put in it.  I made a perfect bun on top of her head and placed one of the flowers in her hair that I brought for her.  We found matching flip flops and a cute swim skirt in her closet.  She insisted on make-up to finish her outfit.  I hollered downstairs to get Cree’s permission.

“Cree! Annie is asking for make-up.  Do I have the go ahead from her dad?”


We came into the kitchen five minutes later.  “Without further ado, I give you Malibu Barbie!”

Annie strutted into the kitchen, showing off her costume to her dad.  Cree put on the charm and acted like he had never seen such a beautiful Barbie.  I didn’t realize that as I was watching the father/daughter interaction play out before me, I was tearing up.  I quickly pushed down my emotions and tried giggling at the father/daughter duo before me.

Annie showed me where to sit.

“Daddy always serves us the meal.  You just have to sit here and tell him what you want... kay?”

“Annie, Milly can get her own food if she wants.”

“Nope!  I want the royal treatment here just like Malibu Barbie.  You know a girl could get used to this.”

Cree just shook his head and chuckled.  Minutes later, he placed our plates in front of us and I froze with fear and terror.  Cree had made mac n’ cheese for dinner.  My poppy was the only one that made me this meal.  I loved eating it when he would make it for me growing up, but it always reminded me of my empty tummy and my wet underwear.  I haven’t had mac n’ cheese since my Poppy died.

“Daddy makes the best mac n’ cheese.  He is the best cooker!”

“It’s just from the box, so don’t get too worked up over it, Milly”

I watched Cree kiss the top of Annie’s head as she dug into her food.  He loved her and cherished her like a father should.  He fed her mac n’ cheese and kissed her forehead.  He loved her.  My mind instantly flashed back to a little girl who sat in a corner for three days in urine-soaked clothes, shaking with fear that her daddy would come back and whip her bottom for peeing.  The little girl’s one wish was to have her daddy come back and cook her mac n’ cheese.

“Um, Milly?  Are you ok?” asked Annie.

I looked up to realize that Cree and Annie were staring at me.  I tried to talk, but my voice was frozen with fear.  That one horrible memory just hijacked all rational thoughts.  I started to feel tears sting my eyes. I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer.  Cree’s love for his daughter unleashed emotional pain within me that I couldn’t control.

“It’s just mac n’ cheese, Dolly.  If you don’t like it, I can make something else for you.”

“It’s okay, Cree.  I’m so sorry that I am crying.  I haven’t been a guest in someone’s house for years.”

Then I looked at Annie, “I’m perfect.  My heart right now is just overflowing watching your daddy take care of you.  When I was your age I wanted my daddy to cook me mac n’ cheese, but he didn’t want to.  It makes me very, very happy that your daddy wanted to cook us mac n’ cheese.”

“Milly, my daddy will cook you mac n’ cheese whenever you want it.  When you are having a really bad day, daddy even sprinkles magic dust on your mac n’ cheese to take away all your sadness.  He does it for me all the time.”

Annie then gives Cree a very serious look and says, “Daddy you better get those special sprinkles.”

Cree made his way across the kitchen and came back with a bottle of sprinkles.  Yes, confetti sprinkles - the kind you put on a cake.  He opened the lid, then did a funny little dance, wriggling his hips and spinning around, while sprinkling my mac n’ cheese at the same time.  He even tossed some over his shoulder, spraying us with sprinkles.  Annie loved the show her father was putting on.

“You now have magical mac n’ cheese!  Enjoy!” Cree said, and then he bent over and kissed my forehead again.

I started giggling.

“Twust me, it works Milly!” Annie said, while shoveling her food into her mouth.

I followed suit and started shoveling my food into my mouth.  Funny thing is I too now believe in the magic of Cree’s sprinkles, because the rest of the night was the best night of my life.
Purchase links:

(My Way Series #2)
by: HJ Bellus


Lacey’s Story…

Covering up pain is easy. It’s keeping it tucked away that’s hard. I’ve always needed the cover of tattoos to hide the nasty past that leached its way into me, tainting me beneath my skin. 

Not the shiny, trendy tats, but the ugly broken kind, meant to keep the world at bay. If they weren’t enough, then my piercings, foul mouth and crazy hair usually did the trick. Life had taught me to never follow the rules, because when you do, you get burned.

My life was perfectly imperfect until Tripp…

Our relationship is what most would describe as fuel meeting fire. We were both hell bent on burning each other to the ground. Tripp was sexy as hell, a charismatic beast, and soon became one of my best friends. We shared a love of ice cream and tattoos as we blazed our own path that could only lead to a beautiful train wreck. 

The only question left is, will we set the countryside ablaze with our hot tempers and foul mouths? Or will we paint our own happy ending filled with all the gushy shit normal people crave?


(My Way Series #3)

Willow's story COMING SUMMER 2014!

About the author: 
I'm just a simple girl who loves the country life... Oh yeah, & a good corn dog! Throw in a little Vanilla Ice, and shits bound to get crazy! 

Be Brave! 

Social media links:

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Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Cover Reveal for Forgive us our Trespasses by M.L. Steinbrunn

Releasing March 11th
Forgive Us Our Trespasses Book Synopsis: 
How long would you wait to be with the one that you love? How much of yourself would you hide in order to keep them? Brooks knows the moment he meets Vivian that he will do whatever it takes to protect her, even if it means leaving her. Running from his past, he spends the next decade trying to forget the shattered heart that he left behind. Is there any betrayal worth the cost? Are there some sins that cannot be forgiven? After a lifetime of rebuilding the walls guarding her heart, Vivian confronts the harsh reality that some fortresses are not meant to stand. Winding through a gray fog of disappointment and deceit, she must conquer her deepest fears to accept the love she believes she is too unworthy to have. As the paths of these two battered hearts cross once more, together they seek redemption for their sins. However, when the secrets of their pasts come knocking on their door, forgiveness and love will be tested, and they will be forced to answer the question: “When the lies run out, will the truth finally set you free?” Forgive Us Our Trespasses is an adult contemporary novel and is not intended for younger readers due to mature content.


Meet the author of Forgive Us Our Trespasses, M.L. Steinbrunn:

Colorado native M.L. Steinbrunn is new to the professional literary community, but has been in love with the world of fictional characters and plot twists since she was a child. Writing short stories and reading anything she could get her hands on, it could be argued that her hobby borders on an obsession. She works full-time as a middle school and high school educator and coach in rural Colorado where she and her husband are raising their three young children. Through education she has enjoyed guiding others on their paths and helping students build their stories. After countless evenings of discussing story ideas, it was her husband who encouraged her to follow her own path and publish her first novel. She is currently working on her debut romance novel Forgive Us Our Trespasses, which is will be released in March of 2014. It will be the first in a series of intertwined stand-alone novels. In her free time M.L. enjoys travelling, Amazon one-clicking, watching movies, chauffeuring her children to their one and half million activities, and people watching. She would like to add a big thank you to everyone that has been overwhelmingly supportive of this incredibly scary yet exciting journey. Where to find me…

Death of a Rock Star by NJ Frost is NOW AVAILABLE!!!

“Troubled rock star Jamie Grimes was found dead at his London home earlier today.”

So there you have it. Jamie is dead… and it's no surprise.
A victim of his addictions – his love of drugs and his love for her.

Sylvie Smith isn’t just any girl.
She was my best friend’s girl.
No, not just his girl, she was his downfall.
She’s the last woman on earth I should want,
but the instant I set eyes on her I know.
She'll be my downfall too…

Thrown together in the aftermath of Jamie’s death,
Blake and Sylvie's worlds are set to collide.
Are they a disaster waiting to happen
or an epic love story about to begin?



DEATH OF A ROCK STAR on Goodreads:
THE BOY IN THE BAND on Goodreads:

NJ is an avid reader and obsessive writer, fuelled for the most part by chocolate and coffee.
During her postgraduate studies in English Lit NJ became a contemporary romance junkie and finally found her calling. A twisted romantic at heart, she loves nothing more than losing herself in a good book with lots of passion and angst. She’s always at the mercy of one book boyfriend or another, so creating her own book boyfriends and torturing them has been a wicked dream come true… but she may have lost her heart to her victims in the process.
Although she enjoys the darker side of romance NJ loves a ‘Happy Ever After’ and is eagerly pursuing her own.
THE BOY IN THE BAND, NJ’s full length follow-up to DEATH OF A ROCK STAR is due for release Summer 

Goodreads Author Profile:
Facebook Author Page:

Music has played a huge part in the inspiration for Death of a Rock Star & The Boy in the Band – my playlist is endless, but here are a few highlights…
Arctic Monkeys – Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High
Bastille – Icarus
Biffy Clyro – Biblical
Birdy – (Live Lounge cover of Passenger’s) Let her Go
Chvrches – Recover
Eyes on Film – Waking up Dead
Foals – Inhaler
Foals – Late Night
Foxes – Youth
The Fray – How to Save a Life
Indiana – Don’t You Wanna Mess Around
Interpol – Rest my Chemistry
Interpol – Slow Hands
King of Leon – Closer
The Libertines – Time for Heroes
The Libertines – Don’t Look Back into the Sun
London Grammar – Night Call
Maximo Park – The Night I Lost My Head
Maximo Park – Your Urge
Tom Odell – Hold Me
The Orwells – Dirty Sheets
Rat Attack – Saturday Night Feelin’
You Me at Six & Chiddy – Rescue Me

In spite of the rain, there’s a crowd milling around outside Jamie’s house and a pool of defiant candles casting their golden light into the dark. It looks like someone has scattered stars on the pavement. This is what bereft fans do. In the absence of their Gods, they erect shrines – on their bedroom walls, on a dead man’s doorstep. Someone is playing his music. It rises into the night sky like a mournful offering, an appeasement to the rock gods. Those gods are so fucking brutal. It seems they always take the best of us far too soon.
As I stand at the furthest edge of this strange spontaneous wake, watching, wondering what the hell Jamie would make of all this, my gaze catches on a girl. Her face is heart-stopping and looks about as haunted as I feel. She’s gazing down at the candles, not really seeing them I suspect, or maybe wondering like me, how the fuck they are staying alight in this slow painful rain. She’s wearing striped pyjama bottoms tucked into huge combat boots that aren’t even fastened and a black biker jacket with an image on the back that is unmistakable. I’d know that jacket anywhere. It’s Jamie’s, which means – she’s her. She’s Jamie’s mystery girl.
My heart is ricocheting around like crazy. With anger and I’m ashamed to admit, with crazy lust. For a moment I regret that my cock decided to behave on the way over here. I wish I’d fucked the nameless model senseless just like I needed. Maybe I wouldn’t be aching now at the sight of my dead friend’s girl. No, not his girl, his fucking downfall – I have to remember that. Seeing her now though, for the first time, I understand. I thought Jamie was crazy for letting a girl get to him like she did. Now I get it. She’s that kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful you’d die for.

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Monday, February 24, 2014

Cover Reveal for Dom Wars by Lucian Bane

dom wars banner
Dom Wars Cover Art
Dom Wars Round One
By Lucian Bane
Release Date March 1, 2014
Lucian Bane's inner Dom is out of control and hungry for things he can't name. When he signs up for Dom Wars, he meets Tara who is naive to the BDSM world. Her reckless dominance and puritan heart fascinate him. But when he discovers the pain in her past, it unleashes his true Dom within.
Author Bio
I'm an Ineffable Dom. That just means, do yourself a favor and please don't try to describe me or fit me into your categories. Complicated Dom, Intricate Dom, Confounding Dom work too. I love very much the soft side of a woman. Not just her body, but everything on the inside-- her passion, her intelligence, her convictions, her delicate tenderness. But the one fetish that might be a part of what makes me an Ineffable Dom is that I love her strengths. I love a woman that isn’t afraid to look me in the eyes and say ‘make me’. But I need it to be real, not staged, not pretended. She has to be a fighter at her core the way I’m a Dom at my core. I want an equal that is willing to come hard against me in every sense of the word, exhaust me. I want her so deep inside me that we’re lost in each other. I want her to never doubt that I will always use my power to adore her, protect her, liberate her. I don’t want a woman I can break, or overpower, or exercise my dominance over, I want a woman I can come undone with. I want a woman I can jump off the cliff with into that abyss of holy hell, this is beyond me, beyond my control. The greatest fear of most people is losing themselves or unravelling their roots. My greatest fear is not finding a woman I can take that plunge with. Yes, it’s a huge risk. That’s the yin and the yang of it. And while the risk titillates my Dom, it’s the ineffable fruit of that risk that moves him. He knows he has to have it. He knows he’s supposed to have. And he’s prepared to dominate for it. I think there are many men like myself, and I hope my writing will be a map for them. A map for women as well, to let them know Doms like this exist. I’d like to call them out of the woodwork. Help men join with their natural inner Doms in a way that I think is one of the most fulfilling experiences there are. I want to challenge them all to go for the complete power exchange with a woman, but don’t be a coward and not give the same that they demand or expect. And consider that when you give one hundred percent of yourself to a person, there is no more of you to give away. You now belong to them the way they belong to you. Inner Doms are dogs that need a master to train them. I once bowed to my Dom's reckless and tireless desires, but when I gained control, he bowed to my will. The transformation made me into what I am today. What many would call an Ineffable Dom. But its equal term in the Vanilla world, in my opinion, is a real man.
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Saturday, February 22, 2014

Undefeated by Scott Hildreth

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Shane Dekkar is an undefeated, gorgeous, and somewhat shy boxer from Compton California. In the ring, he's a beast, out of the ring, he's loving, caring, and intriguing. After the death of his grandfather, he moves to Austin and meets Kace by happenstance as she and her boyfriend are in an argument in public. He is drawn to her, and she to him. Her boyfriend drives away as she mouths the words "help me" through the window...
When they meet again two years later, Shane begins to believe in fate. But, as he prepares for a potential shot at a championship fight, he believes there's no time in his life or career or a woman.
Kace Meadows lives in Austin, Texas. Now 26, she has been in an abusive relationship since she was sixteen years old. As terrible as it is, she can’t seem to find a way to allow herself to end it. With her current boyfriend, she can’t seem to win. She finds hope in reading about her book boyfriends....and dreaming.
Until she meets Shane Dekkar, a boxer. Holy mother of perfection...
Shane fights his inner demons by using his fists. On the street or in the ring, Shane does what he does best, he wins at any cost. Unlike Kace, Shane can’t seem to lose.
Undefeated is an extremely romantic erotica novel about fighting. Fighting for what you believe in. Fighting for life. Fighting to live. And fighting to keep love once you find it.
Be prepared to be moved, touched, stand up and cheer, and cry your eyes out. This book will, without a doubt, knock you unconscious. This novel clearly defines the love that we all seem to want, yet can't find. This is not your typical boxing/fighter romance. This book will give you hope, make you feel, and cause you to wonder....wonder why you haven't met your Shane Dekkar.
Purchase Links
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Undefeated Playlist
Listen to the music that inspired the book

Review by Lil' Max

I was sort of taken back by the way the book started. I was feeling sorry for Kace and the predicament she was in. Like Dayum, nobody should be in that situation. I was routing for her though and I'll be damned if she didn't come through like a champ. That's my girl!   Things start to changed when Shane Shame On Dekkar rides into town and right into Kace fucked up life.
   There are no words to describe every thing this man stood for, but I will try.  He was a stone cold fighting machine.  He had a no tolerance attitude that was strictly enforced on a daily basis in and outside of the ring. He was considerate, compassionate,  smart and calculated and knew how thoroughly please a  woman.  
Sweet Lord Baby Jesus did he Ever!!!
*shivers and tingles* as I remember!!! Gahhh
Undefeated_SDH_9He knew just how to get what he wanted.  Now when that man said he was coming for it he wasn't playin! He went for it.  HARD. I swooned and fell for this him probably harder than Kace did. YA YA I know he's fictional but so what. When you read this you'll know what I mean!  Both Kace and Shane get what they deserve and it is right on time! I was enticed, enthralled and captivated by this story! I have become Scott Hildreth's biggest stalker.  
Fan I meant fan I swear. 
Shame on you if you ain't already read this because every woman needs a Shane Shame on Dekkar in their life so run don't walk you're ass over to your computer, phone, or tablet to one click this and I will be right here waiting on your response just to say mmmhmm I told you so girl!!!
Undefeated Knocked me off my feet with 5BadAssDirtyTopNotchStars!!!
Author Scott Hildreth's Inspiration for Writing Undefeated
My inspiration to write Undefeated, and the hope that it may inspire someone to get out of an abusive relationship, came from the events described below. The events below are true. The events in the book are not. The book is one hundred percent fiction.
One weekend, I had a girl get in touch with me that I had never met. She had received my telephone number from a friend of a friend. Frantic, she attempted to speak to me initially, but each time she tried, she was overcome with emotion.
This emotion filled silence continued for almost an hour, and then we then actually began to communicate, albeit slowly, and one-sided. I learned through the conversation (that lasted almost eight hours) that she was bound by her husband, and gang raped by his friends. This happened for a few days. Against, if I even need to state this, her will. She was in and out of consciousness for two days. Eventually, she was released. In shock and extremely poor health, she contacted me from a remote hotel room.
I struggled with this event, and how to handle it. I struggled with this more than I have struggled with almost anything in my life. Vengeance. At what point does one administer justice to someone that the courts will undoubtedly not punish properly? The punishment for this particular crime, regardless of what was imposed by the court, would not be sufficient for the crime committed.
I chose at the time to speak to another close female friend about the event, and get her opinion.
Although I could not speak to my friend about the person, the events, or the intimacies of the above mentioned conversation, we spoke for some time in general about God, about law and about the difference between what is right and what is wrong. I shared with her my thoughts of feeling a need to resolve this issue with the caller’s husband on my own. When the smoke cleared, I sat in a coffee shop and thought. I made a decision. “Put up again thy sword into his place; for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” I decided, for once in my life, that it was not my responsibility to resolve this issue. I contacted the authorities, called in a few favors from some friends in law enforcement, and the issue was dealt with in a manner in accordance with law.
My female friend, as always, proved extremely useful in her ability to convey her understanding of the message of God in a manner that I could listen to and accept. I have always struggled with attempting to do what is right (in my mind), and hoped that it was what was right in God’s eyes. I do not know that these things always were in line with one another.
Until now.
And now, a year later, the person from the incident above?
She is well. As well as she can be, considering all things. She is fortunate.
I struggle - still today - with thoughts of vengeance.
My struggle brought me to this.
I hope you enjoy.

Excerpt 1
Trying to figure a way to get out of a relationship and not feel like a complete failure is difficult. Most people will never understand why I have stayed in the relationship with Josh as long as I have. As much as I hate the way that he has treated me, I cannot imagine giving up on us - giving up on our relationship. I don’t think I know how to be alone. When I think of it, my head gets all jumbled up and I get scared. Sometimes when I think of leaving him I shake. As soon as I start shaking, I change my mind. I often wish someone would decide for me.
Each time that he has beaten me, I deserved it. I remember the time when I was eighteen, right after high school. Josh was twenty-one. He had to work overtime that day, and he came home exhausted from a long day at work. He asked me about dinner, and I back talked him. He just lost his temper. He never would have hit me if I hadn’t talked back. It was a really long day for him.

About the Author
sh Readers, I will never forget the first time I actually felt as if I had helped someone resolve an issue in their life. I was in middle school. It started then, and has continued throughout my entire life. I have always made myself available to talk to people and resolve (or attempt to resolve) issues that they struggle with. Having an exceptional ability to communicate has always been a gift of mine, and I have enjoyed doing so. Telling stories has always been second nature to me. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was a child. I have written poetry, romance, self-help, addiction, alcoholism, codependency, technical, and satire. There isn't a genre or a topic that I feel more comfortable with. I enjoy writing about whatever it is that I feel passionate about at the time. Being open-minded and often seeing abusive relationships unfold, I have always been passionate about abuse, or the prevention of it. My main focus has always been people that are incapable of helping themselves, primarily women, children, and the elderly. I have talked to hundreds of women that were in abusive relationships, and assisted many of them in removing themselves from these relationships. I try to focus in my writings to develop a story that makes people stop and think. To look at a subject or subjects from a different point of view. If I am able to get my point across, and make the subject entertaining to the reader, I feel that I have met my objective. I feel that I have tremendous depth as a person, and have had some great experiences in my life. To date, what life has offered me has been nothing short of spectacular. My opinions, point of views, and perspectives on matters are just that; an opinion. There isn't necessarily a right or wrong in what I write, but more of a belief. I always believe in what I am writing, and I further believe that the reader may benefit from viewing it from the written perspective. I hope that you enjoy reading what I have written as much as I enjoy writing it. Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than knowing a reader enjoyed something I have written. Considering that, please take time to leave a book review if you have read something I have written.
Best Regards,
Scott Hildreth
Author Links
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Don't forget to enter this knockout giveaway. Prizes include:
- 6 Ebook copies of Undefeated
- 6 Signed Paperback copies of Undefeated
- 15 Boxing Glove Keychains
- and 2 winners will receive a printed Shane Dekkar - Undefeated black Zip-up Hoodie (Size L)
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