Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Cover Reveal - Unfinished Business by Roisin Black @roisinblackauth

Cover Reveal
Title: Unfinished Business
Author: Roisin Black
Cover Designer: Susan Garwood from Wicked Women Designs
Love is a tricky business – especially when left unfinished. Liberty Rose - world famous television reporter, best-selling novelist and philanthropist returns to the west of Ireland, the place where she grew up, for the wedding of her daughter. To the outside world it appears she has it all - international career, good looks, wealth, two children and a happy marriage. However, all is not as it seems and her success has come at a price. Now, the emotional upheaval of her daughter’s wedding throws a harsh spotlight on her own marriage and unavoidable truths must be faced. But matters are complicated by the presence of the only other man she has ever loved. A man she hasn’t seen in twenty-eight years and with whom she still shares a raw chemistry.
He makes it clear he wants to deal with their “unfinished business” but is getting tangled up with her past any good for her future?
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Author Interview
When or at what age did you know you wanted to be a writer? I was always a storyteller and as I grew up I realised I could marry my ability with the English language to all the stories roaming around my head and get them down on paper. At about ten years of age I was producing little homemade "books" and at fourteen I even "launched" a local magazine! I didn't think of writing as a viable career until my mid-twenties when I became a journalist but that didn't provide enough of an outlet for my imagination, so I eventually decided to focus on writing books. What is the earliest age you remember reading your first book? My earliest memory is of reading Robin Hood. I remember the description of him being dressed in "lincoln green" and wondering what sort of green that was! I was most troubled by this. I'd say I was about seven at the time. The book was a present from Santa Claus and it was my first book with no pictures. I can't tell you how disgusted I was at Santa for bringing me a book with no pictures! What genre of books do you enjoy reading? Traditionally I love crime fiction and I always thought that would be what I would write so no-one is more surprised than me that I have written nothing to do with crime fiction! In recent years I have been reading a lot of romance and romantic suspense - which I really enjoy. I also love the classics - anything by Jane Austen, The Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy etc. I adore beautifully written books so will often have a look at the writers listed for big international literary prizes and check out the books. This is how I came to read Atonement by Ian McEwan, one of my favourite books. I also love reading collections of poetry - Yeats, Kavanagh, Seamus Heaney. What is your favourite book?
  1. Book? Do I have to pick just one? Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams. The Hunger Games trilogy and The Twilight series. Some recent favourites are Archer's Voice by Mia Sheridan, Consolation & Conviction by Corinne Michaels and The Love By Numbers series by E.S. Carter.
You know I think we all have a favourite author. Who is your favourite author and why? I love Ian McEwan for the richness of his prose and imagery. Kaylea Cross for her tight plots, thorough research and great sex scenes. Suzanne Collins for her brutal and unflinching subject matter. Thomas Hardy for his beautiful imagery, George R.R. Martin for his incredible world-building and Stieg Larsson for Lisbeth Salander. Mia Sheridan, Corinne Michaels, Kristen Ashley and E.S. Carter for their wonderful characters, great storylines and depth of character. If you could travel back in time here on earth to any place or time. Where would you go and why? I'd go back to London 1938 and tell, the then British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain just how Adolf Hitler and Nazism were going to pan out and that he needs to abandon appeasement and take action. When writing a book do you find that writing comes easy for you or is it a difficult task? Finding the time to write and being able to get into the right headspace is difficult - never the writing itself. Do you have any little fuzzy friends? Like a dog or a cat? Or any pets? Oh Yes! I'm a dog nut! I adore my dogs! I’m still grieving over the loss of Miss Billie - a lab collie cross and a huge character - loved by all who met her. She died just before Christmas. I still miss my old girl Zara, an amazing German Shepherd who was in my life for over ten years. What is your "to die for", favorite food/foods to eat? Oh this is easy! Fresh Atlantic lobster plucked from the pristine waters of the west of Ireland, served with lemon or garlic butter. New potatoes freshly dug from my dad's garden along with his carrots and my mother's scones and apple pies are unbeatable. Do you have any advice for anyone that would like to be an author?
Not to be all "famous sport's brand" about this but just do it! I'd also say don't waste your precious time with traditional / legacy publishers. Indie publishing is the way to go - if you are a success then the legacy publishers will come looking for you and that's the way to have them.
Róisín Black comes from the West of Ireland, a place where storytelling is a way of life. She’s a dreamer, a wanderer and a writer. In amongst extensive wandering and dreaming she has managed to carve out a successful career as a journalist, hold-down a marriage, produce two amazing children and spend her time with some pretty cool dogs. She currently lives in Queensland, Australia.
Author Links:

RELEASE BLITZ - Junkie by Heather C. Leigh + Giveaway @HeatherLeigh_8

  • NEW DARK ROMANCE by Heather C. Leigh

Meet Miri (Junkie) and Jagger (Boss) in the Broken Doll Series!

Want a Spoiler Free Bonus Scene of Jagger?

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Book Summary

I'm a heroin addict. A junkie. A whore. I'll do anything to get my next fix.


Including walking right onto the property of Austin's most ruthless and feared drug lord to beg for some H. I don't know his name, only that people call him Boss. Oh, and that he won't think twice to put a bullet in my head.

But like I said, I'll do anything to get my next fix. Even if it costs me my life.

Or changes it forever.


Excerpt #1
Boss gives Miri a hit

Despite Miri’s disgusting appearance, her nasty addiction to heroin, and the fact that her maybe-boyfriend had been stealing from me to feed her habit, I felt responsible for her. It was my shit she got hooked on, and she just seemed… frail and in need of someone to take care of her. It was almost as if she were sent here as penance for my past failures to take care of my mom and sister.
Besides, Miri intruded on my property. She knew where I lived. I couldn’t just toss her out. It was highly unlikely, but she could call the cops and get them down here with a warrant in the blink of an eye.
Better to get her dosed up and calmed down before trying to talk.
“Jase,” I barked.
One of my men immediately appeared at my side. “Yes, Boss.”
“Bring me the kit.”
With a sharp nod, he left the room and reappeared in less than two minutes to hand me a small zippered pouch. “Here you go, Boss.”
“All of you leave,” I ordered as I began prepping the kit. One by one, I lined the items up on the table, in the order I would need them. Everyone obeyed my command but one.
“Boss, come on…”
“Milo, don’t push me any further tonight.” I turned to give my lieutenant a dark stare that said don’t fuck with me. He better not press his thoughts in front of a stranger.
Milo’s lips pressed tight as he struggled to keep his mouth shut and follow my orders. Nothing new from the big, strong-willed man. He was very opinionated at times. Tense and agitated, Milo gave in and agreed. “Fine. I’m going home then, Boss.”
“See you in the morning.” I dismissed Milo and returned my attentions to the sweaty, gross, trembling girl in my kitchen.
Using an alcohol pad, I wiped my hands to kill any germs. Then I picked up a tiny packet of white powder, careful not to spill any, and poured it into a spoon designed to lie on a flat surface without tilting. The rubber tourniquet was long compared to Miri’s razor-thin arm. I knotted it around the tiny limb, holding back a pained grimace at touching her filthy skin. When I glanced up to check on her, I found Miri watching intently. I blinked and tore my gaze away from those wide green eyes to search for a vein. There wasn’t a single usable one on her scar-riddled arm.
“Shit,” I muttered when an inspection of her other arm turned up the same.
“I-I use my feet.” Miri’s voice was so soft I nearly missed her response.
Caught in the sliver of emerald in those captivating eyes, it took me a minute to reply.
“All right.” I removed the tourniquet, put it around a slender ankle, and placed her left foot on the floor to get better blood flow to the extremity. A single bluish vein stood out, surrounded by a half-dozen faded and fresh track marks. “There it is.” I grabbed another alcohol pad and swabbed the area. Syringe in hand, I uncapped a vial of sterile water and drew up a small amount, adding it to the powered opiate in the spoon. Using a lighter, I cooked the drugs until the mixture was reduced to a clear, bubbling liquid. As I waited for the chemicals to cool, Miri became frantic.
“I-It’s okay. I c-can take it hot. Really. I-I don’t mind. Please…”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not safe. You could blow a vein or worse.”
“I don’t care! Give it to me.” She started to struggle in the chair, in danger of tipping it over again.
Fed the fuck up with today’s events and bullshit in general, I caught her chin between my thumb and forefingers and pinched hard enough to hold her still.
“Stop this immediately or you’ll get nothing. Listen carefully, because I’m only going to say it once. I’m never, ever hospitable to intruders, so you should consider yourself lucky to still be breathing right now and not being driven to a remote location where no one will ever find your body.”
Those dull eyes widened with fear and her lip trembled. “Okay, okay. I’m g-good. I’ll be good. I’m s-sorry.”
I ripped open another alcohol swab and wiped off my fingers. Filthy junkie. Once the mixture was cool, I drew it up into the syringe using a filtered needle and made sure the air was out.
“Ready?” I’m not sure why I bothered—I knew the answer before the question was asked.
“Yes, please, please, please.” Miri vibrated with anticipation.
Despite the fact I grew up around drugs, despised drug use, watched my family implode from drug addiction and never once allowed anyone to get high in my house or permitted drug use among my employees, I went against everything I believed personally and stuck the needle into the vein on Miri’s foot. I pulled back to watch as dark red blood entered the syringe. With visual confirmation I hit a vein, I removed the tourniquet and slowly injected the opiate into her system until the syringe was empty. Working efficiently, I cleaned up the kit, put the used items in a container for the staff to dispose of, and washed my hands at the sink.
Then I sat down and waited.

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Excerpt #2
Boss forces Miri in the shower to get clean

Fighting the intense, gut-clenching fear, I tightened my grip, using his strong muscles to keep me upright as he washed my feet. The cloth skimmed up my legs one at a time, his hands scrubbing over and over as the foam rinsed away days of dirt and grime. The boss skipped my clothed midsection, straightened to his full height, and repeated the process with my arms, spending extra time on my dirt-caked hands and nails, and the track marks on my arms, only moving on when my skin glowed pink.
Next, he lifted my long red hair off my neck and slid the cloth across the top of my back and shoulders, then around the front to wash the exposed part of my chest where my tank top dipped low. I glanced down as his enormous, bruised and scabbed hands worked over my skin, only then realizing my white tank was completely transparent and I wasn’t wearing a bra. Instinctively, my hands flew up to cover my breasts. He chuckled, a smooth, deep sound so seductive it could easily charm a roomful of people and melt every pair of panties in a five-mile radius.
“A little too late for that, doll. Seein’ as I’ve already got a good look at everything.”
Something about his cocky drawl, the crooked smirk on his face, and that single raised eyebrow felt like a challenge. My courage, boosted by the decadent lull of my best friend, heroin, had me meeting his gaze head-on. Determined to show the boss I wasn’t a cowering scaredy-cat, I fingered the hem, tugged the wet tank over my head, and tossed it to the floor with a loud splat. The man’s eyes widened, which only fueled my desire to make him eat his stupid words. Still staring directly into those sapphire eyes, I stuck my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and shoved them down, stepped out, and kicked them aside. Completely naked, I stood my ground and raised my own brow in return, hands on my hips.
Our eyes were locked a few more seconds before he threw his head back and burst out laughing. The action made him look years younger than I originally believed. “You are somethin’ else, you know that, doll?”
Instead of answering, I snatched the soapy washcloth from his hand and quickly finished washing my newly exposed skin.
The boss scrambled to catch the cloth I whipped at his chest before turning to storm out of the shower. I yelped when he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me toward him. The blazing heat of his chest was pressed against the bare skin of my back and I trembled from head to toe. The boss held tight and lowered his mouth to my ear.
“First, don’t ever fucking throw shit at me again.” Chills broke out across my skin at his angry threat. “You will not disrespect me in my own house, especially after I fucking took you in instead of killing you the second you set foot on my property. Got it?” When I didn’t answer, he squeezed my upper arms until I whimpered.
“Y-yes. I get it.” I struggled to keep from screaming out of pure terror. What was I thinking? Mouthing off to a drug lord while naked in his shower and a house full of his goons one floor below. I couldn’t possibly be more vulnerable.
After digging his fingers in for another long moment to prove he was in charge, the boss released me and spun me around as he picked up another bottle. “Your hair is fucking disgusting. It needs to be washed.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste and once more, shame flooded me with heat. This man had a way of making me feel as though I was less than human. He held out the bottle, shaking it in my face. “Either you do it, or I do, doll. But you’re not getting out of here until you’ve cleaned the junkie stench off.”
The backs of my eyes stung and my face caught fire. I couldn’t look at him as I took the bottle and poured some shampoo into a shaky hand. He washed himself quickly then stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest as I lathered my hair and rinsed off under the spray.
“Again,” he demanded. I bit my lip to keep from telling him to fuck off and did as I was told.
When the last suds swirled down the drain, the boss was silent as he reached around me and cut off the water. He carefully folded the washcloth, laid it on the edge of the sink, and stepped out of the shower enclosure. He handed me a towel, and picked one up for himself. I tried not to watch as he rubbed the fluffy white cloth over all of those tan muscles, but it was futile. Staring, I was mesmerized by the sight as the boss wrapped the towel around his waist and shucked his wet briefs from underneath. I gulped, knowing he was now naked beneath the soft terrycloth, a mere foot away.
When the silence became uncomfortable, I clutched my own towel to my chest, dug up what little courage I had left, and turned to face him with a huff. “We showered together and I don’t even know your name.”
He quirked that damn eyebrow again and smiled, white teeth gleaming in the middle of his dark designer stubble. If I didn’t know he was a widely feared drug lord and a pushy, high-handed, scary motherfucker, I’d find his expression almost charming.
“I know you’re The Boss, I want to know your name.”
“My name is Boss,” he repeated. “Or Boss Man. Either one works.” As if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if forcing unwilling women into a shower were an everyday occurrence, he shrugged and brushed a hand through his wet hair.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.” This guy was so damn frustrating. He shot me up with H, dumped me in the shower, humiliated me, washed me, but wouldn’t tell me his name. Whatever. I turned my back to him.
Big mistake.
Two large hands wrapped around my shoulders, and I was jerked back against his body once more. Both of us were currently clad only in towels, his slung low around his waist and mine tucked under my armpits. There wasn’t as much skin-on-skin contact as in the shower, but this felt much more intimate. Slowly, Boss spun me around to face him, and I had to muffle a frightened cry. His blue eyes were narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring. The transformation from playful to furious was immediate and absolutely terrifying. For the first time since I’d showed up on his lawn, I was truly, without a doubt, scared shitless.
This man, the one in front of me—so different from the man who laughed in the shower—is what I expected from the drug lord I heard rumors about. Horrible rumors of unspeakable acts of violence. A ruthless man to be respected and feared.
Boss pressed the length of his half-naked body against me, and growled, teeth glinting behind curled lips. “That’s the second time you turned your back on me after mouthing off. I’m only going to say this once more, Miri, so listen carefully.” He lowered his head and his breath ghosted across my neck. I shuddered and a whimper escaped my throat, the result of a horrifying combination of lust and fear. “You are my guest. You snuck onto my property and you’re goddamn lucky I didn’t let Milo shoot you on sight. No, I saved you, took your ass in, gave you your fucking heroin, and washed a couple weeks’ worth of filth and scum off of you using my very expensive body wash that, incidentally, I never share with anyone. I expect you to be grateful for my hospitality and treat me with some goddamn motherfucking respect, got it?” His hands tightened around my arms incrementally as he spoke. His message was quite clear as his touch became more and more painful. I knew his thick fingers would leave bruises on my pale, fragile skin.
Legs shaking, I nearly pissed myself when faced with the lethal side of this man.
“I want to hear you say you understand, Miri.” Boss let go and stepped back until his eyes bored holes into me from beneath heavy brows.
Filled with terror, my heart pounded and my breath caught in my lungs, rendering me speechless. His eyes narrowed, not happy with my silence. Somehow, I managed to choke out two words.
“I-I understand.”


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Meet Heather C. Leigh
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Heather C. Leigh is the author of the Amazon best selling Famous series. She likes to write about the 'dark' side of fame. The part that the public doesn't get to see, how difficult it is to live in a fishbowl and how that affects relationships.

Heather was born and raised in New England and currently lives outside Atlanta, GA with her husband, 2 kids, and French Bulldog, Shelby.

She loves the Red Sox, the Patriots, and anything chocolate (but not white chocolate, everyone knows it's not real chocolate so it doesn't count) and has left explicit instructions in her will to have her ashes snuck into Fenway Park and sneakily sprinkled all over while her family enjoys beer, hot dogs, and a wicked good time.

My favorite authors are Dan Wells, Ken Follett, and Stephen King.

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RELEASE BLITZ - Retrieval by Aly Martinez @AlyMartinezAuth



The Retrieval Duet by Aly Martinez is a two part series.

RETRIEVAL is NOW LIVE  and will bring readers the first part of this emotional second chance romance.   

TRANSFER (Part Two) will release on September 27th!

NOW AVAILABLE on the following retailers:
Retrieval (Part One):

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I proposed on our first date.
She laughed and told me I was insane. Less than a day later, she said yes.
It was a whirlwind, but we were happy…
Until we got greedy and wanted a family.

It was a life I couldn’t give her, not for lack of trying. Fertility just wasn’t on our side. We sought out doctors and treatments. Spent money we didn’t have. Lied to our families. Smiled for our friends. Put on a brave face for a world that didn’t understand.
Finally, we were successful…
Until we were forced to bury our son.

We were left broken, battered, and destroyed.
They say love is in the details, but it was the details that ruined us.

This is the story of how I took back what had always been mine.
The retrieval of my wife and our family.

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“Where’d you get beer?” Elisabeth asked as she scrambled from the couch.
“Seth,” I replied, hanging my head and rubbing my eyes.
Jesus, I’d wanted to kiss her. She was being a bitch, spouting shit she didn’t mean just because she was too scared to let me in.
But, even through it, those plump lips were calling to me.
I’d never been able to resist that woman. Despite that we’d fallen apart, it hadn’t changed. The hum for her was still in my veins. It never went away, but for two years, it had been dormant. I’d packed it down so tightly that I’d hoped it had died. But, with one look, my body began thrumming like a live wire.
“Seth?” she asked as she bent over to straighten her tight, black pencil skirt.
It was a rare occasion to catch Elisabeth in something other than a perfectly pressed skirt and a pair of heels. But she’d been sleeping all day. It was wrinkled all to hell and back. The only thing her efforts succeeded in was drawing my attention down to her legs.
Legs that had spent many nights wrapped around my hips as she came while crying my name.
Shit. I should go.
But, after the way she’d latched on to me that morning, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“My assistant,” I answered. “I had him pick you up a bottle of wine, too.”
She blinked. “You have an assistant? Who delivers you beer? And your ex-wife wine?”
“No, I have an assistant who does whatever the fuck I need him to do. And, luckily for us, beer and wine happen to fall into the whatever-the-fuck-I-need-him-to-do category tonight.” She fought back a smile as I finished, “So do gyros.”
“Damn. I need to get one of those,” she mumbled to herself.
I smirked. “Cash my checks and you could afford one.”
It was a dick move, bringing up the money right then. But, despite her expert hand in decorating, that little starter house we’d bought with rose-colored glasses now needed a shit-ton of work.
Her back shot ramrod straight, fury crinkling the corners of her eyes as she snarled, “I’m not cashing your checks.”
I shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to figure out how to get your own wine and dinner after tonight.”
“I think I can manage,” she fired back.
“Suit yourself.” I pushed off the couch and meandered to the kitchen.
I went to the fridge and leaned in, searching for anything I could snack on. With the exception of at least a dozen Tupperware containers, she didn’t have much in the way of a quick bite.
Snagging a handful of grapes from the drawer, I made a mental note to send Seth to the grocery store after he’d delivered dinner.
Popping the grapes in my mouth one by one, I felt her watching me in what could only be defined as silent awe. I decided my best move would be to ignore it. “You know, I should have invented Tupperware. You alone could keep me in business,” I told her, retrieving a beer and then shutting the door.
She scoffed then muttered, “At least then I would have benefitted from you abandoning our marriage.”
Lava fresh off the volcanoes in Hell boiled in my veins.
I cocked my head to the side and questioned, “I’m sorry. Come again?”
“You should go,” she snapped.
Think a-fucking-gain.
“Nah, I’m good. Got any movies?”
I tipped the bottle to my lips, doing my best to calm the storm brewing within me, all while still fighting the desire to take her to the floor, plant myself between her legs, and remind her how that fucking attitude affected me.
Clearly, she had forgotten.
My cock had not.
“Roman, it’s been a crazy day. Please don’t do this tonight.”
“Do what?” I asked, leaning back against the huge, granite island.
She threw her hands out to the sides in frustration. “What you always do.”
“What do I always do, Lissy?”
“This!” she yelled.
I frowned and took another pull from my beer. “Haven’t been in our kitchen, drinking beer, in a long time. I hardly think it’s fair to say I always do it.”
Her eyes nearly bulged from her head. “My kitchen, Roman. This is my kitchen. Not ours. And you know good and damn well that is not what I’m talking about.”
My lips twitched as I pointed the neck of my bottle at her. “No. What I know good and damn well is that I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about. Or why you’re slinging unnecessary and, might I add, undeserved attitude at me like a short-order cook at the bitch house.”
“He did not say that to me,” she whispered to herself.
When I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, she swung a pointed finger toward the door and yelled, “Get out!”
I grinned, crossing my legs at the ankle. “You always were cranky when you were hungry.”
And that was the exact moment her head exploded.

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Want More?  
Pre-order Transfer (Part Two)
Releasing September 27th

Meet Aly Martinez
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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.