EXCERPT REVEAL : The Drifter by Kathy Coopmans

Excerpt

 

I’m a lonely man. I choose to be this way. I had true love with her. It didn’t matter how old we were, or how young; once you have it, you never let it go. You spend a lifetime together. And I pissed it away. Underlining painful memories have inflicted punishment on my tattered soul for years. Besides Rori and Muriel, those two things are the only constant impressions that have kept me going. If I didn’t feel the need to live with a constant dagger shoved through my heart, I would have let myself whittle away years ago. It’s distressing, to say the least, that the pain I’ve caused is the only thing I’ve let rule my life. I’m living in hell every day, repeatedly burning from the inside out since day one. I will never forget the first time I was rejected in New York, how badly I wanted to call her and beg her to forgive me. I couldn’t do it, and I knew it. I jumped in the shower instead, rinsed off the dirt and grime, then pressed my forehead to the yellow tiles. Hot water beat down my back. I vowed not to cry, even though my heart ached and my lungs felt like they were working overtime to help me breathe. I caved and fell to the shower floor, my fist pounding and beating the wall in front of me until I became numb to the shooting pain filtering from my hands all the way to my shoulders, twining up around my neck until I choked from the lump lodged in my throat. Nausea bubbled up, and I vomited the contents from earlier in the day. The rancid smell left me dry heaving and an oversized human slumped over in the small confinement that the pain from missing her had left me in. When the water ran cold, I lay there shivering, wishing for nothing but her. Once I composed myself, I crawled back up and cleaned and towel-dried off, only to climb into an empty, cold bed, tired and defeated, scared to close my eyes, because when I did, all I saw was her. Several nights I repeated the same thing until the real life nightmares struck me hard, leaving me in this worst shape of my life. For years, I’ve been honest with myself over and over again, saying I deserve every chip and break my heart feels when her birthday or Christmas come around. It’s like this infinite cloud that hangs dormant over my head: dark and gloomy, cold and wet. It will never go away. Now that I’ve seen her, and even though I’m walking back down The Strip with no idea where I’m going, the memories that were once happy become so unpleasant I could easily bleed my life dry. Desperation pools around me. Panic sets in. What if she’s gone and I never see her again?

 

 

The Drifter by Kathy Coopmans is a heartfelt romance you are going to want to one-click!

 

Releasing July 11th.

Add to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/1RWK7BH

 

 

Blurb

 

To the outside world, Kray Brooks had it all growing up.

Wealth. The devoting parents.

The beautiful girlfriend.

Good grades.

 

All of it a lie, except her. The woman he left behind thirteen years ago to try and achieve his real dream… to become a musician.

 

Life doesn’t always go according to the plan you set out for yourself.

Sometimes, you drift. Become lost, lose hope and crash.

 

For thirteen years he’s been drifting wherever his guitar takes him, avoiding his past. Never thinking of his future.

Not once did he think it would all catch up to him. Until it did.

 

 

About the Author:

Kathy Coopmans

 

 

USA Today Best-Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.

After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.

She now writes full time.

She’s a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.

She’s a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

 

Use whichever one of these you would like babe.

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website |  Goodreads | Newsletter signup

 

Excerpt Reveal – Stealing Home

 

Coming July 10th

 

Pre-order exclusively on iBooks HERE

 

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

 

 

 

 

Being the only woman working for a professional baseball team isn’t easy. As the San Diego Shock’s newest athletic trainer, Allie knows all about long hours, endless travel, and warding off players’ advances. Given she’s already the subject of a handful of rumors about how “lucky” she was to have earned such a coveted position, she can’t so much as flutter an eyelash a player’s way if she wants to be taken seriously.

 

But number eleven is doing more than fluttering eyelashes Allie’s way. Far more. Luke Archer is at the top of his game and doesn’t let the fear of striking out keep him from swinging. This is a motto he applies both on and off the field, but Allie appears immune, seeming to view Luke as nothing more than caution tape on legs.

 

He’s a player, and in Allie’s experience, they’re all the same. She won’t risk her job or her heart to another one, no matter how different this one claims to be. But as Allie gets to know him, she discovers the number eleven the public thinks they know is very different from the real Luke Archer. He seems too good to be true.

 

And maybe he is.

 

Allie will have to confront the stories attached to a player of Luke Archer’s stature and decide who she’ll put her faith in—The man she’s falling for? Or the rumors?

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Working for a professional baseball team was going to be the end of my love life. The past two years confirmed that theory, as had the last text I’d received from my latest ex-boyfriend.

           Half of the year on the road added to another half of the year working grueling hours that rivaled a doctor’s first year of residency equaled a whole lot of no free time to fill with a social agenda. Since being hired on by the San Diego Shock this season and the San Francisco Kings the year before that, the longest relationship I’d maintained spanned eight weeks.

           This last one had barely cleared the four-week mark.

My lifestyle was costly, but it was worth it. Baseball was in my blood, and sports medicine was in my heart.

           I’d grown up in a small Midwest town where people still got together for potlucks and everyone from the town hermit to the mayor attended a funeral. Where the only place you were expected to be after church on a Sunday was stretched out on the bleachers around the baseball field. It didn’t matter if it was a T-ball game or the high school championships—the bleachers were always packed.

Baseball was a religion where I grew up—it was stitched into the fibers of my life—so it was no surprise when I ended up with a baseball player. No, the surprise came after I’d followed him to college and found him in bed with someone else.

           It had taken the wind right out of me, along with my tendency to trust first and doubt after. Ben had been sleeping around for a while by the time I found out—friends had known and said nothing—and that was the day I made a promise to myself to never let another guy hurt me as he had, to never be made a fool of like that.

After changing schools mid-year, I started studying sports medicine and never looked back. Or at least not often. I only looked back when I found myself feeling something similar to what I’d felt for Ben. The relationship never lasted long after that.

           As evidenced by my newest failed relationship.

           “Whose ass do I need to kick, Doc?”

           Dropping my phone into my lap, I looked across the aisle to see who was sliding into the row across from me.

Luke Archer.

Known to fans as the best hitter on the Shock, if not in all of pro baseball. Known to women for his good looks and up-to-no-good smile. Known to Cosmo magazine as being voted the Finest Ass in professional baseball. And known by the athletic training staff as a well-rounded pain in our asses.

           Not because he thought he knew better or was yet another prima donna—which the sport had no shortage of—but because he held to the old-school code of taking care of an injury by “walking it off.” If that didn’t work, then we could usually convince him to pop one or two pain relievers after the game, and sometimes, if he was feeling especially accommodating, he’d accept a bag of ice.

           Luke Archer was the real man of steel, and no one to date had managed to convince him he was also made of those injury-prone materials known as flesh and blood.

           “Doc?” Archer’s voice broke through my haze of thoughts. “Just give me his name and I’ll take care of it.”

The rest of the team and staff were shuffling down the aisle between us to find their seats on the team jet, but his stare aimed my way felt unyielding.

           “What makes you think anyone’s ass deserves a kicking?” I asked.

I returned a high-five as Reynolds passed by. He’d twisted his ankle in the game earlier today, and I’d been the first on the field to get him taken care of. I’d been the last one out of the locker room to finish getting him taken care of too. As a noob, I had to work twice as hard. As a woman, I had to work ten times as hard.

           “I have three younger sisters. I have more experience than most with guys deserving ass kickings.”

           The last of the guys wandered by us. Without the break of their bodies coming between us, Archer’s stare became too intense. His eyes seemed capable of pinning me to the back of the seat.

           The head athletic trainer, Dax Shepherd, attended to the “money” players—the ones like Archer, who brought fans to the stadium and were a large part of the Shock’s impressive win-to-loss ratio. Up until this very moment, I didn’t know Luke Archer was aware of my existence on this team or the planet.

           “You really have three younger sisters?” I asked.

Unlike most of the female populace, I didn’t know every last fact about Luke Archer. The news about his parents had made headlines a few years back, and that was all I knew about his personal life.

           “I really do. And I talk to or text all of them every day.”

           “Plus you kick asses for them.”

           Archer’s hazel eyes lightened. “Plus that.” He twisted in his seat so he was almost facing me, his eyes dropping to the phone in my lap. “So? No one messes with my sisters. And no one messes with my team.”

           My forehead creased. “I’m not one of your teammates.”

           “You’re a part of my team. Just because you don’t play the field or swing a bat doesn’t mean you’re not. You keep us healthy and strong out there.” When I cocked an eyebrow, he added, “And when we get injured, you make sure we get fixed up quickly so we can get back to doing what we love. You’re every bit as vital to this team as . . .” He glanced up and down the aisle like he was looking for someone to fill in the blank with.

           “As Luke Archer?” I completed for him.

           His answer to that was a lifting of his eyes. “I’m one man who can swing one bat.”

           “One bat really, really hard. And very, very exactly,” I interjected.

           He continued, “You make sure twenty-five men can keep swinging their own bats.”

           “Well, there’s me, the two other athletic trainers, the physical therapist, the personal trainers, and the actual doctor who help out with that too. I can’t take all of the credit.”

           “Come on. You work twice as hard as any of them, so you should at least take most of the credit.” When his phone started chiming in his slacks’ pocket, he pulled it out, turned it off, and hid it back in his pocket.

           “And since the closest Shepherd and Coach Beckett have let me get to you is handing out a water bottle, how would you know that?”

           He pointed at his eyes. “I’ve got two of these and use them for observation on occasion.”

           “When they’re not searching for your next conquest?” I gave an internal groan the moment after I’d voiced something that should have stayed unsaid.

           My relationships with the players had always been professional and rarely, if ever, delved into the realm of personal information. If it didn’t have to do with preventing or tending to injuries, I didn’t bring it up.

           Until now. When I’d just suggested that Luke Archer had a reputation in every city the Shock had visited, every hotel they’d stayed in. Perfect way for my first real conversation with the star player of the team, and the whole of professional baseball, to go.

           Archer stayed quiet, studying me with that tipped smile he was famous for.

           “You know my opinion on rumors?” he said a minute later.

           I was capable of nothing more than shaking my head.

           “That they’re started by haters. Spread by fools. And accepted by idiots.”

           My head tipped. “Are you calling me an idiot?”

           His eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a manwhore?”

           I studied him lounging in his seat with his legs kicked out in front of him, his wide chest stretching beneath his suit jacket, his long arms resting on the armrests.. His body was enough to weaken the resolve of someone as jaded to player players as I was, but his face didn’t play second-string.

           Brown hair lightened by the sun, smooth skin darkened by it, a strong jaw, and hazel eyes that trended more toward the green end of the spectrum; Luke Archer was quite possibly the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on. According to Sports Anonymous’s random poll of five thousand women, he was the best-looking guy in professional sports today. The other few billion women on the planet would have agreed with that title, I assumed.

           “Do you always take so long to answer a question?” Archer motioned at me, waiting.

           “No,” I said, recalling the last question he’d asked me. Snap out of it. “I don’t think that you’re a  . . . manwhore,” I whispered the last part.

I’d had enough experience with the rumor mill to be a sympathetic party to the target of so many. Being one of the first and only female athletic trainers in professional sports had opened me up to a hundred rumors when I’d been hired. All versions of them had to do with me fucking my way into the position.

           “Good.” Archer nodded, seeming satisfied. “Because you certainly don’t seem like an idiot.”

           “Thanks?”

           He nodded again. “Welcome.”

           That was when the pilot’s voice echoed through the team jet, running through his usual spiel. We were leaving Tampa and heading up to Chicago. Now that the season was in full swing, I lost track of the cities we were leaving and the ones we were heading toward. All of my attention was focused on the players and getting them through the season as injury-free as possible.

           “I’m still waiting for that name, Doc.” Archer clicked his seat belt into place when one of the attendants stopped beside him, looking ready to strap it into place for him.

           When she saw mine unfastened, all I got was a lifted brow and a pointed finger before she moved on to the next aisle.

           “Oh, it’s okay. He’s not worth it.” I lifted my phone toward him before dropping it in the duffel bag I kept on hand at all times. Bandages, tape, painkillers, and a small cooler of ice packs were always at the ready whenever I was with the team. “Any guy who breaks up with someone via text message isn’t worth much.”

           “Really? Over text?” Archer’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the reason the ass-kicking was invented. For those types of guys.”

           I shrugged as the plane started to taxi down the runway, the interior lights dimming. “We haven’t even been together a month. Truthfully, it lasted longer than I thought it would. This kind of lifestyle”—I twirled my finger around the airplane—“makes it difficult to sustain a long-term relationship.”

           “That’s why I’m not a fan of them.”

           “Long-term relationships?”

           “Any kind of relationship,” he said.

           I nodded my understanding. The players had it worse than the team staff. At least in terms of having to question if a person was into them for who they were or because of their job, and the fame and money that came with it.

           “I’m either practicing for a game, playing a game, recovering from a game, or fueling up and resting for a game. There’s not time for much else,” he said.

           Leaning into my armrest, I realized how strange it was to be having such an easy conversation with Luke Archer. It felt natural, not forced. Most of the players would take a moment to chat with me about something game-related, but I was still the new kid on the block. I felt like I had to pass some test before they’d accept me as a member of the team.

           Archer didn’t seem to be of the same mind though.

           “Yeah, I know. It’s like you need to find someone who can just travel with you wherever you go, right?” I said, thinking how much easier it would to be in a relationship with someone I got to see on a daily basis without two computer screens.

           “Exactly. Someone who understands the lifestyle. Appreciates the sacrifices you have to make.”

My head fell back into the headrest from the inertia of takeoff, but I could still feel Archer’s eyes on me. “Someone who understands that the job comes first. Someone who doesn’t get insecure or jealous or bent out of shape that they get the few precious minutes in between the job.”

           When my head turned toward him again, I found Luke Archer staring at me with a kind of intensity I hadn’t seen aimed my way in a long time. My breath caught, and even though the strength of his stare threatened to overwhelm me, I held his gaze.

           “Someone who understands the game. The commitment. The time. The sacrifice. Someone who’s as committed to it as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitched, carving a dimple into his cheek. “It’s not like you could ever expect to find a person like that sitting in the row across the aisle from you, right?”

 

 

 

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

 

Website   Facebook  Twitter  Blog  Instagram

 

 

 

 

 

NEW TEASER & Sneak Peek by Pepper Winters!

New Teaser Alert! 

 

Pennies is the highly anticipated July 20th release from Pepper Winters. 

 

“She was poor.  He was rich.  Together…they were bankrupt.”

Pre-order your copy here:

iBooks: http://apple.co/1PofXwO

Nook: http://bit.ly/1TXN1uq

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1WVHdEZ

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1Plgtvw

Add Pennie$ to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/1X2jy4I

Amazon will be available at a later date.

To be notified when available: http://eepurl.com/120b5

Read the prologue and Chapter One here: http://bit.ly/2929WEg

Blog Tour of Uncovering Camila by Vivian Winslow

Synopsis:

Camila Cohen is a highly ambitious and driven third-year NYU law student who works as a part-time bartender to help pay her way through school. She prefers no-strings attached relationships, afraid that anything serious could get in the way of her goals.

But when chef Eliseo Perez ditches her for a job in Miami, she realizes even a casual arrangement can leave you feeling burned. Just as Camila’s close to accepting a position at the high-powered law firm of Sullivan & Moore (more appropriately known by its initials, S & M), her uncle Arthur, the head of the Cohen Real Estate dynasty, makes a proposal that compels Camila to question the career path she’d always assumed would be right for her.

As she attempts to balance her busy final year of law school with her bartending job, what should have been a random Tinder date for a hot hook-up leads to something unexpected. Meeting the incredibly brilliant and handsome Marshall James forces Camila to face her greatest fears and realize that creating a life for herself means making decisions that could potentially hurt the ones she loves.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Uncovering-Camila-Wildflowers-Book-3-ebook/dp/B01FZX77KM

 

Amazon UK:  https://www.amazon.com/Uncovering-Camila-Wildflowers-Book-3-ebook/dp/B01FZX77KM

 

 

Author Bio:

Elizabeth Ann Hayes writes Romance under the pen name Vivian Winslow. Elizabeth was born in San Diego, California but has spent most of her adult life as the consummate wanderer. Her nomadic life took her abroad to Paris, Madrid, London, Hong Kong, Los Angeles, and São Paulo. After eleven moves across four continents over a span of seventeen years, her journey brought her back to New York City in 2011 where, despite the chaotic pace, she’s managed to make it home for herself and her family.

 

Since 2014, Elizabeth has published nine novellas in her Gilded Flower Trilogies as well as two installments of Wildflowers, a New Adult series of standalone novels. These contemporary romance books are female-driven with strong, beautiful and intelligent women as well as diverse characters, reflecting her own multi-cultural heritage.

Social Links:

 

http://www.vivianwinslow.com

 

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

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Spotify – https://play.spotify.com/user/vivwinslow

Spotify playlist for Uncovering Camila

https://open.spotify.com/user/vivwinslow/playlist/6Aeao0ntFKPcoAvqQfV5jR

Review By Lori Jean DeSisto Sarat

Uncovering Camila

Camila and her cousin Shoshana are very close. Shoshana wants Camila to find love and come out of her shell.  So what does she do she finds Camila a date on Tinder.  But heres the catch she didn’t tell Camila about it. Enter Marshall who has no idea he was messaging Shoshana.

Shoshana invites Marshall to meet in person, well she invites marshall to meet C. C. In person.  So Marshall goes to Camila’s work orders drinks and sits waiting for Camila to finish work. At the end of the shift Camila tells this customer to pay for his drinks not knowing that her cousin acting as her under her nickname C.C. Has offered to pay for his drinks.

“You Ignore me all night and now you try to renege on an offer that you made.  Sounds to me like you’re the one with a ‘twisted sense of humor’.”

They figure out what has happened and discuss it in great detail.  They move on and give each other a chance.  Together they uncover her “wild” side.  But heres the question can they find happy together and find a way to keep Camila’s family happy as well.

For me this book was a struggle to get through.   It wasn’t my kind of book. I prefer something a little more fast paced and more action.

Excerpts

Excerpt 1

“Soooo, the host,” he says. “Obviously single, no kids . . . .”

Camila shrugs. “Someone new to the school. I’m not in any of his classes, so I don’t know much about him.”

“You’re being weird. You’re always about extraneous details, and now you can’t say the man’s name or look at me.”

“What? I’m making you a cocktail.” Camila forces herself to look at Jared.

He regards her suspiciously. “You’re a terrible liar, my friend. I’ll figure out what you’re hiding.”

It takes all of one second when he sees Marshall walk into the apartment.

“Oh my God, it’s Mr. Gucci,” he whispers into Camila’s ear.

“Shut up. This isn’t the time.”

“Oh, it totally is,” he replies and heads into the adjacent kitchen to introduce himself to Marshall.

“Good evening. I’m Jared. I work with Camila over at L,” he says, hinting he recognizes Marshall from the bar that night.

“It’s great of you to come.” Marshall casually extends a hand.

“Remind me of your drink of choice, and I’ll be sure to keep your glass full tonight.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. You know how to mix a Metropolitan?”

The bartender suppresses a smile. “Funny. Camila really enjoys those too. I’ll be right back.”

“You fucked him didn’t you?” Jared wags a finger at his friend.

“How can you tell? You spoke to him all of two minutes.”

“While you hid in here like a scaredy cat. What happened? Buyer’s remorse? Hard to imagine though.” He turns in the direction of the kitchen and shakes his head. “No way. With that mouth, the way he stands, and his posture. He’s definitely good in the sack.”

Camila makes a face. “I didn’t realize he was my Professor.”

“I thought you said you weren’t in any of his classes.”

“I dropped it on the first day when I saw him. But what’s worse. He’s my faculty advisor for Law Review.”

“That’s classic,” Jared laughs out loud. So loud it gets Marshall’s attention. He spots Camila standing by the bar. “Oh, hey C.,” he begins to say then clears his throat. “Camila, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I came early to help Jared set up,” she says, finishing her drink in one gulp.

 

“This is worse than my cousin’s bar mitzvah down in Palm Springs,” Jared groans to Camila when she approaches him for another drink.

“It may kill you to hear this, but this is one of the better networking parties I’ve been to,” she replies.

“That guy in the corner talking to your boyfriend looks like my Uncle Mordy.”

Camila slaps his arm. “Shut up already. And that man happens to be the foremost expert in Trusts and Estates in the country. I think Oprah is his client.”

“Seriously, honey. You do not belong with this crowd. You are so downtown cool, and they’re uptown uptight.”

“For your information, I just spoke with a woman who runs a legal aid office in the Bronx. She said her work was ‘rewarding’. How many people ever say that about their jobs?”

“Most teachers, except middle school ones, and saints.” Jared leans on his elbow. “So fine, not all lawyers are like my Uncle Mordy. But most of them are.” He checks his watch. “Cover for me a minute. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I thought I was paying Jared to work, not you.” Marshall says.

“He’s taking his Union fifteen,” Camila answers wryly.

“I guess I can’t interfere with that. I would hate to get a letter from a union lawyer.” He holds up his glass. “Would you mind? I think I prefer your Metropolitans to his anyway.”

“I told you it’s because I don’t sweeten it. Besides, I could use something to do.”

“You’re not giving up so quickly, I hope. There are plenty of attorneys I can introduce you to.”

“So this was a plan to get me to consider a different line of work.”

“Not a plan as much as a hope. But I know better than to interfere in your life. You know what you want.”

Camila looks up when she hears that last word. “Up until recently I would’ve agreed with you. But I realized that I’ve been confusing need with want. I need a job. I don’t know if I want the one I thought I did.”

Marshall furrows his brow. “That’s a tough one. You want to talk about it?” He looks around at the party. More people have arrived. Students are always game for free alcohol, as he knew they would be. However, if he could, he’d snap his fingers and make them all disappear so he could be alone with Camila.

“Maybe later,” she says vaguely, pouring his drink into a clean glass.

Marshall drops five dollars into a tip jar. “Later then.”

 

“I’m glad you came tonight,” Camila says as she stacks the shakers and places them into a small box. “It was nice to have a friend around.”

“Students are terrible tippers, but you know I’d do anything for you,” Jared replies. He hooks a cord around the box of alcohol and stands. “At least I got to check out your secret boyfriend.”

Camila slaps his thigh. “Shh. He is not.”

“Oh please. You and Felicity should start a club. You guys can make a SLAM book and write Felicity + Todd and Camila + Marshall on the cover. This is so junior high with your sad, longing faces.” He presses his cheeks down. “A crush on your professor, and a crush on your boss, I swear I am living in the middle of a young adult drama.”

“Oh come on. You said they’re probably sleeping together. That’s not happening here.”

Jared puts a hand on his hip. “You’re lying to me, and you’re lying to yourself. I can see what’s going on. My vision is 20/10.”

“Enough. You’re being weird.”

“Pot, kettle, honey. I’ve known you for seven years, and I’ve never seen you act this strange.”

“But he’s my professor,” she whispers as the catering staff bustle around her, clearing out the dishes. Most of the party has emptied out with the exception of a few lawyers who seem to be friends of Marshall’s.

“No he isn’t. He teaches at the law school where you happen to be a student. I’m not an idiot. That’s gray area at best, but still within acceptable boundaries. And I should know a thing or two about boundaries because I’m always breaking them.” Jared hands her the container with the shakers. “Walk down with me and wait while I get a cab.”

Excerpt 2 (sexcerpt)

 

Camila turns her body to face Marshall. Lifting her hand, she runs a finger down the side of his face. He catches her hand and trails kisses around her palm. From there he runs his tongue up her index finger and sucks. He continues to suck on her fingers relentlessly, each one stirring her craving for sex even more than the last. She smiles to herself. This dare will be far easier than I thought.

She sits astride Marshall on the bench, careful not to tear her dress. “You sure about this?” He asks.

“Why do you ask?” Camila rubs his cock from outside his trousers. “You want to hear me say that I want to be with you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies before crushing his lips against Camila’s. Like last time, this kiss blows her away with its intensity, as he alternates between tender caresses and biting her bottom lip. Unlike last time, there’s an undercurrent of desperation behind it because they both know the weekend will end and their City lives will resume, where neither one will be able to touch the other. Somehow that prospect of it ending before it even begins drives them further into the moment, passion superseding all reason and doubt.

Camila doesn’t speak right away. She wants her kisses to speak her desire for her. For her tongue to find his and to stroke it the way he stroked her pussy that morning in her apartment. She brings her hands to his face, gripping him with the intensity of a lover who’s saying both hello and good-bye. It’s truly liberating to own this level of freedom with someone knowing that the present is all they have. She can feel his erection grow and press against her cunt, growing slicker with every kiss and lick against her lips. Camila draws his left hand under her dress so he can feel her desire.

Marshall moans into the next kiss, taking her deeper as he buries two fingers inside of Camila. She cries out silently, only a jagged breath shattering the stillness around them. Time has literally ceased to exist in this moment between the two lovers as they continue to climb toward their mutual pleasure. Camila lowers the zipper of his pants, freeing his cock. Marshall hisses as she begins to stroke him. What he wouldn’t give to feel himself inside her warm mouth right now. He groans as he bites down on Camila’s lips, remembering how it felt when she took him deep inside her. He starts to penetrate Camila faster. He wants to fuck her this way and so many others right here on this bench. How perfect and poetic to have someone like Camila on the Baron estate where he’d lost his virginity to Dahlia, the eldest of the twin daughters, all those years ago in the pool house. To bring such light to a place that represents so many memories from his past fills him with such a sense of peace he doesn’t want it to end.

Marshall takes out his fingers and licks them before putting them in Camila’s mouth. She sucks on them hard. The idea that these fingers were just inside her pussy drives her further into her lust. She lowers herself over his cock, prepared for how deep he would go and how far it would stretch her. This time her eyes are open, watching the look of pleasure on his face as she takes him fully.

His moan is louder than it should be, but neither of them cares. She rides him slowly this time, with greater purpose than before. Each time, she wants to feel him deep inside her, and he wants to savor it too. Marshall pulls Camila tight to him, burying his groans into her mouth, his kisses conveying a warmth and gratitude for tonight, for that morning in her apartment, and for feeling so fucking good at this moment.

He buries his face in her breasts as he continues to thrust into her. Her cries match his. Both are so close to coming, but neither of them is ready to. The reality after the fact will hit them both, and they want to push it away as long as they can. Marshall wraps his arms around her tighter, unable to edge any longer. “I’m going to come,” he whispers.

Camila nods as she rides him harder, lifting herself off, and slamming down so she feels it in her G-spot. She draws a deep breath, finally reaching that deep abyss as Marshall stops thrusting and lets himself go.

 

 

 

Giveaway

 

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Everything BOOK TOUR Erin Noelle

5 stars Heavenly Long Everything Erin Noelle….TOP REC…http://amzn.to/28IFDFC

I love a good forbidden romance. It’s one of my favorite romantic tropes, so I was super excited to dive into this one. This book did not disappoint and definitely delivered on the sexual tension between these two in spades!!!

Everett is an aspiring musician and is given the opportunity to go on tour, with his twin sister, as the opening act for their father’s band. All he has to do is make it through the last few months of his senior year and then he can finally start living the life he has always wanted. So of course, things aren’t going to be that easy.

“We were going on tour. All over the world. Sold-out crowds. The best venues. I could play music day and night and get paid for it. My dream.”

I loved Everett’s character. He’s very grounded and humble. He is very much an old soul in a 17-year-old’s body. While he is playing in his parent’s bar one night, he sees a woman that he immediately feels a connection with. He feels things he’s never felt for someone in his life.

“I could fuck her through my music before my hands ever touched her. But, God, did I want to touch her. And kiss her. And feel her all around me.”

Belle is starting life over in a new city with a new job at the local high school. All she wants is to move on from a painful past and start fresh. After her run-in with Everett, she can’t stop thinking about him. Imagine her surprise when her almost hook-up walks in her classroom on her first day on the job.

“Time stopped. The earth stopped spinning on its axis. The ground fell out from under me. And it happened all at once. The moment my eyes landed on Everett. My rockstar.”

Clearly, these two can’t possibly act on their attraction again…But desire is a tough beast to deny. I appreciated the slow burn between the characters. It wasn’t about just the physical, I could truly feel how these two cared for one another and how their similarities bonded them. Erin’s writing just draws me in and I devoured this book. I couldn’t wait to find out how the situation would resolve itself.

“It was illegal, unethical, and morally wrong. But I didn’t give a fuck about any of that…”

The Command Series by Karyn Lawrence

The Command Series by Karyn Lawrence has brand new covers!

BUY: http://amzn.to/28NY5K6

Blurb:

STEAMY ROMANCE AND EDGE OF YOUR SEAT SUSPENSE!

A gunshot rings out and interrupts Laurel Hayward’s first steps on stage as a professional dancer, and witnessing an assassination is just the beginning of her horrific night. The ruthless killer is determined to either have her or to silence her, landing Laurel in the protective custody of Deputy U.S. Marshal Jason Dunn.

His cocky, indifferent attitude gets under her skin, but worse yet, there’s undeniable attraction. Jason can claim he’s not interested in her all he wants, but once he’s got her tucked away in a safe house his actions say otherwise.

She needs his help to stay alive and he needs her to catch the killer that has eluded him for years. Forced together and on the run, the attraction flares out of control and develops into more just as the obsessed killer comes for Laurel . . . and threatens to destroy everything.

Contains mature content and 80,000 words that you won’t be able to put down until you’ve turned the last page.

BUY: http://amzn.to/28K3ELC

Blurb:

Billionaire CEO Shawn Dunn has plenty of sex, power, and money. A woman turning down his advances? Unfathomable. Yet that’s what she does, again and again.

Kara Hayward is supposed to be off limits. Her sister is hiding from the dangerous assassin she escaped from, and it’s best for everyone if Shawn keeps his distance. Certainly as far as Kara is concerned. Shawn’s only after one thing and then he’ll walk away, just like her ex-husband.

But Shawn has larger desires and he’s used to getting what he wants. He doesn’t care if being together is dangerous. He doesn’t believe that threat to him, or his empire, is real. Right up to the night he has everything taken away.

This is the second book in a stand-alone series; the story is complete with no cliffhanger ending.

BUY: http://amzn.to/28KgnMV

Blurb:

The most dangerous thing on Captain Olivia Wallace’s plane is her Italian employer’s new bodyguard. Nathan is just like all the other predators in the deep bush of South Africa: he’s powerfully intense, strikingly gorgeous, and completely lethal.

But Nathan isn’t who he pretends to be and she’s drawn to the decent man she sees inside, the one he claims doesn’t exist. Even as he risks everything he has to save her.

His actions put them on a collision-course with uncontrolled passion, but also dangerous violence, and its impact threatens to destroy so much more than just their lives.

This book contains mature content. It is a standalone novel with no cliffhanger ending.

About the Author:

Karyn Lawrence is an author, graphic designer, and screenwriter. She published the nonfiction book for children: “Techniques of Color Guard” after an editor discovered her color guard blog; way back in the infancy of the Internet and long before blogging was a thing.

She has been a screenwriter for more than fifteen years, with rather mild success, and grew tired of her stories only reaching a handful of readers. The decision was made to try fiction in early 2013 and once she figured out how to write internal dialogue again, the prose came fast and furious. She most enjoys writing smexy (smart-sexy) books featuring a lovable SOB.

Karyn is a Chicago native who lives in Kentucky with her epic husband and two adorable sons. She also writes dirty romantic books as Nikki Sloane.

Author Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Karyn-Lawrence/e/B00KCRUDIK/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/karynlawrenceauthor/?fref=ts
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8136036.Karyn_Lawrence
Twitter: https://twitter.com/karynsloan

UP IN FLAMES/Abbi Glines Blog Tour

Up in Flames: A Rosemary Beach Novel (The Rosemary Beach Series Book 13) Abbi Glines TOP REC. http://amzn.to/1sXHP1a

 

I don’t even know where to start for this one. I will say this. I was an official Nan hater. Actually that is the nicest thing I could say about Nan.

From the moment I met her in Fallen Too Far (Rush & Blaire) I loathed her. And it got worse with each book I prayed silently for her death. A SLOW AND PAINFUL ONE

Then I heard she was getting her own book. My first real thought was.

The villain of Rosemary Beach finally gets her own happy ending

If you’re like me you are shaking your head back and forth. Why? Why should she get her happy ending. Well because Abbi said so that’s why!

So I open the book with a chip already on my should. I mean It’s freaking Nan, no one likes Nan..Well except for Nan!

I wanted to be someone’s Harlow. Or Blair.
But I’d always just be Nan. And Nan wasn’t enough.
I never had been, and I was done trying to be.

Ugh OK fine she got me feeling something. Did I feel bad for her. Yes. I did. Did she deserve it. Yes she did.

So in this book she had two victims, oh sorry, suitors to chose from.

Well that was a stretch and I don’t want to say much more. I will say that I had a favorite the minute he walked into her life. The minute he opened his mouth. The minute her eyes caught his!

As my gaze drifted over the crowd, already bored with the sight in front of me, it collided with the hard gaze of another. A pair of eyes locked on mine. Eyes that made me shiver with fear and excitement. I took in a chiseled face, its hard planes obvious even under a thick beard. My eyes traveled lower. Broad shoulders gave way to thickly corded muscular arms and a chest that looked like it was about to burst from the black t-shit he was wearing

What I learnt about Nan is everything is not what it seems. She isn’t what it seems.

This book had me going up and down with emotions. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen. I couldn’t wait to see if she would get what would be coming to her. I couldn’t wait for the other shoe to drop. I had to see. I had to witness. I almost needed popcorn.

But here is one thing I wasn’t counting on. Feeling sorry for her. routing for her, cheering for her. I was hypnotized by Abbi’s writing and I COULDN’T LOOK AWAY.

BUCKLE UP BECAUSE THE RIDE IS GOING TO BE BUMPY, IT’S GOING TO TOSS YOU, IT’S GOING TO TURN YOU UPSIDE DOWN. IT WILL SHOCK YOU IT WILL MAKE YOU AWE. IT WILL MAKE YOU SCREAM IT WILL MAKE YOU WANT TO TAKE YOUR KINDLE AND DROP IT INTO A POOL! BUT IN THE END YOU JUST SIGH BECAUSE THE RIDE WAS WORTH THE TIME IT SPENT WAITING

EXCERPT REVEAL Filthy English by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Chapter 1

 

Remi

 

Plain and simple, this night sucked.

Sadly, it was my honeymoon.

I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported dark clothing with long, loose cloaks. Not me though. I’d gone modern with a slinky little number and three-inch heels, putting my height at nearly six feet. Yep, I’m the giant in the blue dress, towering over every girl and some guys at the bar.

My top teeth dug into my bottom lip as I gazed around the smoky club, my eyes bouncing off random faces. Even in a room full of party people, music, and strobe lights, I was lonely.

My groom was missing.

That’s right. Hartford Wilcox, Jr., aka Mr. Nice Guy at Whitman University in North Carolina, had jilted me two weeks before the big wedding day as we had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s.

And now here I was—on my honeymoon and getting trashed with my best friend Lulu who’d decided to skip her beach vacation and come with me at the last minute.

She poked me with her finger as we sat in front of the heavy wooden bar of the club. “Hey, Earth to Remi, get that glazed look out of your eyes and order a drink already. I’m thirsty.” She fluffed her pixie-cut pink hair and straightened her black tutu, eyes scoping out the club. “Dang, the men in here are hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch,” she said in her honeyed southern drawl.

I half-heartedly agreed, not really caring, more intent on scanning the bottles behind the bar. “I want tequila,” I murmured. “A whole bottle.”

Her face snapped back to me and her green eyes widened. “Uh-uh. No way. I know what happens when you drink that crap. You either eat a ton of tacos and puke, or you wrap yourself around some cocky bastard with a well-developed tush.”

True. I did love a tight muscular ass.

But I wouldn’t get one tonight.

A short laugh burst out of me, one of those I’m-miserable-but-pretending-to- be-okay-laughs that I’d been doing a lot of lately. For the past two weeks, I’d vacillated between a sobbing mess and an angry woman who became so incensed that “fuck” was the only word that seemed appropriate in any given situation. Going to the post office to mail he dumped me, but thank you anyway cards. Fuck. Going to the wedding venue and not getting the ten thousand dollar deposit back. Fuck. Realizing I was homeless fall semester—which was in two weeks—fuck. Listening to my mother tell me it was my fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The bartender delivered my bottle and poured me a shot. I sucked the tequila down while Lulu watched me warily. It tasted like bad decisions and gasoline, but tonight was about forgetting. The sooner the better.

A few minutes later, Lulu went out to dance with a British guy she’d been making eyes at. I sat glumly at the bar, fiddling with my diamond tennis bracelet, rubbing it like rosary beads. I needed to forget Hartford, and according to Lulu, that meant hooking up with someone.

Was she right?

Fate answered in the form of a beautiful man—and by beautiful I mean drop-dead sexy with a backside so delectable and muscular my mouth plopped open.

I snapped my lips shut and adjusted my velvet half-mask—the annoying feathery plumes on the sides kept sticking to my red lipstick—and turned ever so slightly to check him out, not wanting to appear obvious. He slid into the seat next to me, tall and broad with rippling shoulders and a massive frame.

I checked my appearance in a mirror behind the bar, mentally analyzing the odds of a girl like me snagging a hottie like him.

Although no one had ever called me beautiful, I did have two—okay, maybe three—things going for me in the looks department. My shiny, golden-brown hair that hung down in waves to my shoulders, my fluffy “pillow lips” as Lulu described them, and lastly, I had an itsy bitsy space between my two front teeth which were otherwise white and perfect. Lulu claimed the gap lent me an exotic look, like Madonna or Sookie Stackhouse. Whatever. I was a True Blood fan. I went with it.

He shifted on the stool, leaning closer to me. His cologne swirled in the air, the smell of expensive Scotch and musk mingling together to create a heady, slightly dangerous scent. I paused, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. The spicy whiff triggered a distant memory just out of reach.

As slyly as I could, I studied his profile from top to bottom. Like me he wore a black mask, although his was more masculine, not hiding his chiseled, movie star jawline. His lips were carnal and luscious, the bottom more plump than the top with a slight indentation in the middle. As I watched, his tongue swept out and caressed it, his top teeth biting it as if he were deep in thought. He raked a hand through his dark, longish messy hair, held it suspended above his head for a few seconds and then released it, letting it swish back into its tousled yet perfect place.

I tore my eyes away.

Something about him sent loud warning bells ringing in every atom of my body.

Danger, danger. Don’t touch that.

But my gaze would not be denied as I took in the tight black shirt and sculpted chest that was obviously used to the inside of a gym, right down to an arm that looked like it could snap a board in half—or me.

Nice biceps, Mr. Beautiful.

The pièce de résistance was the vivid blue and orange dragonfly tattoo displayed on his left arm. It was larger than my hand and took up most of his bicep. My eyes traced the contours of the design from the papery wings to the multi-faceted eyes. A bold black color outlined the insect, giving it a masculine feel.

Gorgeous.

True Religion jeans stretched down long legs and ended in a pair of black Converse without socks, giving him a boyish quality that was in direct contrast to the crazy-sexy-bad-boy vibe he had going on.

Him tonight?

Maybe. He was the polar opposite of Hartford who was blond, lean, and tattoo-free.

I nibbled on my fingernail. How do I get him to notice little ol’ me?

Just then a redhead with fluffy Farrah Fawcett hair strode up to his stool, bold as brass, wearing a tight, white mini-skirt that barely covered her booty. She brought with her the smell of sweet, cloying perfume, the kind I always got spritzed with at the mall.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, casually rubbed her finger down his arm and struck up a conversation. Her fake, black lashes—which she’d somehow managed to get outside the eyeholes of her mask—batted. She puffed out her well-developed chest.

He smiled back at her with a wicked grin, his relaxed body language telling me he was confident when it came to women. She whispered in his ear, boobs right in his face, but whatever he said back wasn’t what she wanted to hear because a few ticks later, she crossed her arms, glared at me, and stalked away.

I blinked. What had I done?

Then he turned and pointed his devastating smile at me.

Shit, he’d made eye contact—as much as you could with a claustrophobic mask on.

But wait…

Was he crazy?

Because if he’d turned down her flirtation, I didn’t have a shot.

I didn’t know how to do the fingers-tip-toeing-up-his-arm-thing and sexy hair flicking. I didn’t know a thing about applying fake eyelashes. I didn’t know how to make my breasts sit up that high. I looked away from him and took another shot, feeling anxious and strangely off-kilter.

Mr. Beautiful ordered a drink from the bartender, his British accent smooth as silk as it washed over me. I froze. I almost knew that voice—deep with soft rounded vowels that made you tingle in your lady parts.

What was it about this guy that had me all jacked up and hot for him?

Hello, tequila, my inner voice said. But it was more than that.

Getting brave, I pivoted on my barstool, and found Mr. Beautiful’s eyes on me once more, searching my face. As if he too recognized the pull between us.

My heart played hopscotch, jumping against my chest. My skin prickled. I shivered.

Did I know him?

It clicked.

Dax Blay?

It was his voice, the same deep quality, the kind of voice that made you want to hop into his bed and ride him like a cowgirl.

My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the emotion that zipped up my spine whenever I thought of him. He was my one mistake, the time I’d tossed inhibitions and carefully laid plans aside and went with my instincts, only to have them tossed back in my face.

But the man next to me wasn’t Dax. Thank God.

Last spring at the campus-wide end of the year fraternity party with Hartford, I’d seen Dax, and he’d had shorter hair, like always, and zero tattoos. Yeah. No way.

Plus, last I heard, he was in Raleigh where his father lived.

Yet…

Dax was British. He could have family here. Maybe he got a tattoo?

Nah. I mean, what were the odds of us both being at the same club on the same night in a country where neither of us lived?

I tore my eyes off Mr. Beautiful and waved at a bartender for more limes, but somehow my tennis bracelet snagged on the bodice of my dress, leaving my wrist dangling like a wet dishrag in a most inappropriate place.

I wiggled my arm.

Jiggled it.

Even went so far as to jerk, but it wouldn’t separate.

Sweat popped out on my forehead. Holding my breath, I twisted and tugged the bracelet, forcing the delicate material in my bodice to stretch beyond normal limits.

“Well, hell,” I breathed, pausing to assess.

Skin-tight with a plunging neckline, the dress was mostly a stretchy fabric held together by sequined straps and a zipper on the side. Slated as part of my honeymoon wardrobe, it was a Tory Burch and had cost four hundred dollars, the most I’d ever paid for a fun outfit, and no way did I want to damage it. I might have to return it to rent an apartment at Whitman.

Lulu. I needed Lulu. She was a whiz with wardrobe malfunctions.

I spun around on the barstool and used my free hand to wave at her, but she was slinging herself around dancing, having a great time and completely oblivious. I resorted to flapping both hands at her, one high and one low. Several people waved back with baffled expressions, but Lulu didn’t notice. Dammit.

I groaned and slumped down in my seat, ready to scream. Now what? Go to the bathroom and repair it there? Good plan.

But the club tilted when I stood, the strobe lights making me squint as they flashed in my face. I wobbled in my leopard print heels—that Lulu had insisted I wear—and grabbed the stool to keep my balance. `

I sucked in a breath to gather myself, but I couldn’t think straight. The room spun, and I was suddenly queasy, and why did I slam all that tequila, and oh my god, my wrist is currently attached to my tit like a T. rex arm.

I had to get out of here before someone noticed what an idiot I was.

Trying to be stealth like, I reached across the bar to get my beaded clutch, but because it was my left hand and not my right that I used most of the time, I got off balance and stumbled—and my ankle folded in on itself. I yelped as my shoe catapulted off my foot and vaulted off toward the dance floor, while I fell forward, straight into Mr. Beautiful’s lap.

 

Filthy English (unedited excerpt)

Copyright Ilsa Madden-Mills

 

The British are HERE! 

Are you ready for Filthy English?

Add to your TBR for a July 11th release here: http://bit.ly/28MpTlk

 

 

 

 

Blurb

A smokin’ hot British player…

A jilted girl…

One night of mistaken identity…

 

Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.

 

She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.

 

She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.

 

Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.

 

But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…

 

One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.

 

*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*

 

 

 

 

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

 

She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.

 

She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.

 

When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

 

 

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

 

You can stalk her on her website as well as get signed books: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorilsamaddenmills?pnref=lhc

 

IG: https://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/

 

Twitter: @ilsamaddenmills

 

 

RELEASE BLITZ Everything by Erin Noelle

Everything is the story every Book Boyfriend fan has been waiting for!  #Rocker

NOW LIVE!

 

Everything Erin Noelle….TOP REC…http://amzn.to/28IFDFC

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1UF88TP

iBooks: http://apple.co/28Lij4h

Nook: http://goo.gl/HEIXok

 

 

Blurb

Music was was part of my DNA, pumping hard through my veins, resonating deep within my bones. Not surprising, considering my dad was a global rock star and my mom had the voice of a fallen angel.

With my twin sister by my side in our indie-rock duo, Singed Wings, we were ready to finally see our name in lights when we opened for the hottest act to sell out stadiums – Jobu’s Rum Summer Reunion Tour.

The life I’d always wanted was finally within my reach. All I had left to do was finish out my last semester of high school.

But there was one problem: Ms. Sloan, the new art history teacher.

The same Ms. Sloan I’d met as Belle, the sexy little pixie who’d captivated me at a New Year’s Eve concert last year.

The same Ms. Sloan who’d owned nearly every one of my thoughts since that night.

The same Ms. Sloan whose class I was in danger of failing.

With my dream gig dangling just on the other side of that cap and gown, all of my focus should’ve been on my school work and improving my music as I prepared for my big shot to rock the world…

But I never expected her to rock mine first… and to change everything.

 

Everything is a standalone novel. It is a spin-off from the Book Boyfriend Series.

 

About the Author

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and three fur babies. When she’s not reading or writing romance novels, she enjoys winning at cards and board games, awkward people-watching in public places, and doing cartwheels at the most random times. She’s usually barefoot, is never without a song in her head, and currently holds the title of World’s Best Procrastinator.

Her titles published include the Book Boyfriend Series, Dusk ‘Til Dawn Series, Luminous Duet, Fire on the Mountain series, and numerous standalone books that range from New Adult to Contemporary romance.  Her books have been a part of the USA Today Bestselling list as well as the Amazon and Barnes & Noble overall Top 100. You can follow her on Facebook @ www.facebook.com/erin.noelle.98, her blog @ http://www.erinnoelleauthor.com, on Twitter @authorenoelle, and on Instagram @erinnoelleauthor.

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Say You’ll Stay Corinne Michaels Blog Tour

Say You’ll Stay Corinne Michaels   http://amzn.to/28IFh1P

You think Corrine Michaels and the first thing that comes to your mind is OMG her stories are so good and touching oh and by the way you cry each and every time

Then when I met her in Boston while she was undercover I tried to get all sorts of information from her and I came up empty!
Nothing. Till the Blurb came out! People Grab your kleenex!

This story where do I start with this story, oh wait I know gut wrenching, heart breaking, soul shattering, the pain that she goes through you feel all the way down to your bones!

One word.
Stay.
It was all he had to do. Instead, he got on that bus and took my heart with him.
That was seventeen years ago. 

So she moved on, how could she not HE DIDN’T ASK HER TO STAY!

She got married, she had beautiful twin boys. Her house had the white picket fence, everything she wanted she had. Till that one day it all went away.

I was left once again. 

This part of the book I had to read in bits and pieces. I couldn’t do it all in one shot. The way Corinne wrote this story I felt every single thing that she was going through. I felt it all.

Alone, penniless, and with two boys, I had no choice but to return to Tennessee. He wasn’t supposed to be there. I should’ve been safe. However, fate has a way of stepping in. 

I’m the one who alway says everything happens for a reason and I will say this. This poor girl Jesus Murphy how much can one person have to deal with. If I was Presley I would have thrown in the towel faster than I could blink, but nope not her. She said I’ll take it and I’ll raise you one more.

She fought, she struggled, she lived, she breathed, and she hurt. With all this she learned to be free again. To be her again. To love everything she thought she didn’t need again!

This time around, the tables are turned. It’s my decision. Second chances do exist, but I don’t know if we can repair what’s already been broken . . 

Ok so the one thing I have to say about this book that I didn’t like and I know that I’m not with the other in this, but Zach oh my Zach the amount of time I wanted to jump in the book and hurt you where the sun didn’t shine.

This is a story that you have to read, you must read, you must must must!