Thursday, October 20, 2016

Blog Tour- Tempting Tristan by Melissa Foster

Tempting Tristan is a stand-alone M/M romance featuring two sexy, lovable alpha heroes.
TRISTAN AND ALEX Fresh off the heels of yet another bad relationship, Tristan Brewer is taking a break from men to try to figure out where he keeps going wrong. He knows his biggest fault—he leads with his heart, not his head—and that’s never going to change. But after several introspective weeks, he’s beginning to get a handle on things. That is, until badass heartthrob Alex Wells walks into his bar... Alex has spent eight years in the army, months in a hospital bed, and far too long hiding his sexual identity. He’s guilt-ridden, damaged, pissed off, and up for a Silver Star for the incident that nearly cost him his life—and kept him from his grandmother’s funeral. But all he wants to do is live the life he’s always dreamed of and forget his stint with the institution that allows but doesn’t necessarily accept. The chemistry between Tristan and Alex ignites from the moment they meet, and the more time they spend together, the hotter the flames burn. But the closer they become, the more Alex's walls go up, and when the two walk onto a military base, Tristan finds out Alex’s physical scars aren’t the ones that run the deepest. *** "Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!" New York Times Bestseller Lauren Blakely "With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!" New York Times Bestseller Julie Kenner HARBORSIDE NIGHTS is a sexy, hot, and evocatively real series of stand-alone romances that follows a group of friends who have known one another for years as "summer" friends, and now come together after college to build their lives. They're tough, edgy, and accepting--most of the time. This series is written in the same loving, raw, and emotional voice readers have come to love by New York Times & USA Today bestselling, award-winning author Melissa Foster with LGBT themes.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.” Tristan shrugs. “Have at it.” “Why were you taking a break? I get that your ex was a prick, but is there more to it?” He looks down the street, across the street, and then his hand cruises through his hair as it has so often that I’ve already come to expect it when he’s nervous. “Ian was a prick, but the rest is going to make me sound like a pussy,” he admits. “I’ve only known you a day, and I already know nothing can make you sound like a pussy.” He meets my gaze, and his jaw tightens. He lifts his chin and I recognize the struggle between feeling proud and worrying about looking weak. I fight that battle on a daily basis. “I give away my heart too easily, and I end up getting hurt.” His eyes never leave mine, and that trust, that confidence, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “I was right. Nothing can make you sound like a pussy.” I slide my hand to the hard ridge of his jaw and lean in closer. “I’ve never given my heart away. That makes you braver than me.”
Wild Boys After Dark: Heath ebook x 2 winners
Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance and new adult romance, contemporary women’s fiction, suspense, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café and Fostering Success. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa has been published in Calgary’s Child Magazine, the Huffington Post, and Women Business Owners magazine.
Melissa hosts an Aspiring Authors contest for children and has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Melissa lives in Maryland with her family.
Visit Melissa on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups, and welcomes an invitation to your event.
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COVER REVEAL Grand Slam: The Boys of Summer by Heidi McLaughlin @HeidiJoVT

Grand Slam cover.jpg

Grand Slam:  The Boys of Summer
by Heidi McLaughlin releases on May 23rd!

Pre-order Available NOW!

Coming... May, 2017

The third novel in New York Times bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin's Boys of Summer baseball series.

A beast at the plate, Travis Kidd is a superstar for the Boston Renegades. But when baseball isn't occupying his time, Travis - named Boston's Most Eligible Bachelor - is known as a ladies' man.

Saylor Blackwell knows sports. As a public relations specialists, her focus is on the athletes. The hours are long, the job stressful, and she's prohibited from dating any of the overly friendly athletes, but the result is what matters - she's financially able to care for her daughter.

When a drunken night spent with Travis threatens that, Saylor knows she's made a mistake. Unfortunately, when he's accused of a horrible crime, it causes a PR nightmare and forces Saylor to come to his rescue. But when Saylor's ex comes back demanding custody, it might up to Travis to save her right back...

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The Boys of Summer
© Heidi McLaughlin, 2016

Chapter 1 – Travis

The one I’m eyeing for the night bends at her waist and lines her pool stick up with the cue ball. She slowly pulls the wooden rod through her fingers, until the felt top finally connects. The hard white plastic ball rolls toward her target, hitting it perfectly and stalling as the blue-striped ball rolls into the pocket. I let out a massive sigh and lean on my stick, waiting my turn. I should’ve known better when she approached me, asking if I wanted to play a game or two of billiards with her. I know better than to let a good-looking woman hustle me out of money but I wasn’t thinking with my right head. I never am, and once again I’m getting my balls get busted, no pun intended, by a pool shark.
“Sweetheart, are you going to let me play? My balls are getting lonely.” If she thinks I’m crude, she doesn’t say anything. In fact, she looks at me from over her shoulder and winks before shimmying her ass toward my crotch. My internal groan is epic. I’ve been watching her bend, lick her lips, show me her ample cleavage, and shake her ass for almost an hour. Not to mention, she brushes against me each time she passes me. And the touching isn’t subtle. I can read her loud and clear, all the way from her tight as-sin jeans to her plunging neckline.
“I can’t help it if you suck.”
“Do you?” I ask, stepping in behind her. My crotch is lined up perfectly with her ass, earning me another hair-tossing look over her shoulder.
She stands and turns to face me, resting her ass on the edge of the table. “What do you have in mind?” Her finger trails down the front of my shirt until she reaches the buckle of my belt. The tug is slight, but definitely felt. Message received loud and clear.
“What’s your name?”
“Are names important?”
“Of course. When I demand that you come for me, I need to know what to call you.”
“Demand?” she questions.
“I’m greedy like that,” I tell her, placing my cue stick against the table as I step closer to her. I lean in and try to get a whiff of her perfume, but a mix between the stale air from the bar and the beer on her breath makes it hard to tell what she’s wearing. I do love a woman who takes the time to dabble the perfect scent on her skin though.  
“My balls aren’t blue, darling, and haven’t been in years.”
“No, my name is Blue.”
“That’s a very unique name,” I say as my hand rests on her hip.
“What can I say? I’m a unique woman, Travis.”
Ah, she knows my name. That’s usually how things go for me. Rarely am I given the opportunity to introduce myself. Everyone knows who I am, and while I enjoy the fruits of my labor, sometimes anonymity would be nice. One day, I’d like to talk to a woman who doesn’t know that I’m Travis Kidd, right fielder for the Boston Renegades and one of the town’s most eligible bachelors. “You know who I am?”
“Doesn’t everyone? I’m a Boston girl; I know my Renegades.”
I nod and reach for my beer. It’s the off-season, and technically I shouldn’t be here. I usually head south for the winter but opted to stay home this time. After a long season, one that saw my former managers die and one of my closest friends on the team become a dad to twins, I thought I’d stay around and see what the winter had to offer. Aside from the cold, I haven’t found much, except Bruins hockey and Celtics basketball. Those games have been the highlight of my time off.
The pickings for women have been slim. Without trying to bag on the female population, it’s evident that they’re seasonal as well. Right now, the puck bunnies, gridiron groupies, and court whores are in full effect, and the cleat chasers are resting like the rest of the baseball world. Maybe I should’ve been a dual-sport athlete. This way I would’ve had the best of both worlds.
“What?” I ask, mentally shaking the cobwebs out.
“Where’d you go? It’s your turn?” Blue nods toward the table, and I look over her shoulder to see the cue ball sitting there.
“Why don’t you help me?” I know how to play the game of pool, but since she seems to be a pro, why shouldn’t she show me? I would’ve happily slid up behind her and taught her how to handle her stick but she took the fun out of it.
Instead, she’s off to my side and leaning into me, giving me a perfect sideways glance down her shirt. I smirk, ignoring everything she tells me, and watch as her mounds of flesh move each time her hand does. They’re real, that’s for sure. None of that fake silicon shit on this chick.
“And that’s how it’s done,” she says, righting herself. She continues to slightly lean over the table though, jutting her chest out for me to ogle. I cock my head to the side and wink before taking aim at the cue on the table.
My first shot goes in, and the second quickly follows. I line up the third, and that is when I see a raven-haired beauty nursing a drink at the bar.
Saylor Blackwell is off limits to anyone her agency represents. That includes me. Although I wish it didn’t. Saylor is the one I would’ve switched agents for if she told me to, but I fucked that up much I like I screw everything up. When she needed me, I wasn’t there. And I haven’t spoken to her since.
It’s my dumb luck that she’s sitting at the bar with her long, slender legs crossed, and she’s dressed like she recently got off work. Her eyes are set on the television, ignoring the gaggle of men staring at her. I remember that she was a hard nut to crack back when I wanted to know her better. I can’t imagine what she’s like now that she’s more successful.
My last shot is sunk into the corner pocket. “Eight ball, right side,” I say, nodding in the same direction I plan to send the black ball in order to finish this game. I’m in a rush now, eager to speak with Saylor. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself.
“Where ya going?” Blue calls out.
“To the bar. Rack ‘em,” I tell her. It’s not a lie. I am going to the bar but with the intention of speaking to another woman. I’m smooth though, and I can easily play it off while I order another round of drinks.
“Two please.” I put up two fingers as I motion toward the bartender. Leaning in, I know I’m blocking Saylor’s view of the television, which is all in my game plan.
“Hey Saylor.”
“Travis,” she says coldly. We have a history. A small one, but it’s there. I often remember the night we spent together and the regret that was on her face when we were done. I had never been kicked out of an apartment before that night. Usually, once I’m satisfied, I leave. With Saylor, everything was backwards. It’s like she used me to scratch an itch, and once I took care of that, she didn’t need me anymore. “What brings you in?”
She looks everywhere but at me. “I’m meeting a client.”
“And nursing your what?” I take her drink from her hand and sniff. “Scotch? When did you start drinking the hard shit?”
That gets her to look at me.  Her glare is deadly as her blue eyes penetrate into mine. “As if you know anything about me.”
“I know enough.”
“You don’t know shit, Travis Kidd. Go back to your booty call. She’s looking at me like she’s ready for a cat fight, and I assure you, you’re not worth fighting for.”
Saylor turns, giving me the cold shoulder. If I weren’t so stunned by her outburst, which I did not deserve, I’d tease her. But I have a feeling that there’s something bothering her, and I’m the last person she needs making shit worse.
With the bottles of beer between my fingers, I go back to the pool table where Blue is indeed throwing daggers at Saylor’s back.
“Down, kitty. She works for my agent.” I run my hand down her arm, trying to diffuse the situation. Jealous women usually turn me off, and this should be my sign to hit the road except I’m an idiot and want to stay mostly so I can watch Saylor.
Taking Blue by her hand, I lead us over to the stools, and I sit down, pulling her between my legs. My hand is planted firmly on her leg right under her butt check. It’s a risky move, especially with all the cameras around, but I don’t care right now. It’s the off-season. I’m allowed to have a little bit of fun.
“You have nothing to be jealous over,” I tell her. If anything, I’m trying to appease her.
“We good? Wanna go back to kicking my ass at pool?”
She looks over at the table and nods. “You rack, and I’ll break.” Blue saunters away, giving me space to watch Saylor, who turns and makes eye contact with me. I wish I could tell what she’s thinking. Is she second-guessing her harsh words? I am. I want to go back over and offer to pick her tab. Or ask how she’s getting home. It’s late, and the roads are shit. If she’s driving, she shouldn’t be drinking. She has a kid that depends on her.
“I’m ready,” Blue says, thrusting the stick in my face. Her words catch me off-guard. Is she ready to play another game or two of pool? I hope so because I have no intention of leaving as long as Saylor is at the bar. Or is she ready for me to fuck her and never ask for her number? Because that is bound to happen as well.
I break, sending the balls off in every direction. Four drop. Two of each giving me the choice of what I want to be. Blue is yammering in my ear about the set-up and which would be the best. Her angles only work for her though, and I see that I can run the table on her if I line up correctly.
“We should’ve bet,” I tell her as I walk around the table.
“I’d hate to hustle you out of your money, Travis.”
I laugh off her comment and proceed to clear the table. She huffs when the eight ball falls into the designated pocket.
“Well would you look at that,” I say, taking a bow. Blue pushes me lightly and falls into my arms. Her lips are on mine before I can push her away, and doing so now would be embarrassing for her so I kiss her back and find myself opening my eyes to watch Saylor watch me.
As soon as I pull away, Saylor is sliding off the bar stool and heading toward the door.
“Be right back. I need some fresh air.” A true gentleman would’ve invited his lady friend outside, but that is not who I am.
“Do you need a ride home?” I ask, as soon as I see Saylor standing near the curb. “And what happened to your client?”
“He canceled.”
It didn’t strike me as odd earlier when she said she was meeting a client, but it does now. I’ve never met anyone from the agency at a bar, let alone this late at night.
“How about that ride home?”
“Travis,” she draws out my name and then drops her head into her hands. Without thinking, I pull her into my side. “Come on, Saylor. It’s a ride. Nothing else.”
“What the hell is going on? I thought you were taking me home?” Blue speaks loud enough for everyone on the block to hear.
My arm drops, and Saylor steps away from me. I turn at the sound of Blue’s voice behind me.
“I’ll be in. Give me a minute.” I smile, hoping to placate Blue but it doesn’t work.
“I see some things never change,” Saylor says as she steps off the curb and waves at a cab only to be passed by.
Shaking my head, I push my hands into my pockets for a bit of warmth. If I knew Saylor would be out here when I returned, I’d run in and grab my jacket. “It’s not like that.”
“What, do you like her or something?” The sound of Blue’s voice grates on my nerves. Saylor looks over my shoulder and rolls her eyes.
“Or something,” I say, without taking my eyes off Saylor.
As soon as a taxi pulls up to the curb, Saylor is sliding in.
I make a split second decision to get in with her, but not before Blue yells at me. “Where the fuck are you going?”
I answer her by slamming the door shut. I have Blue on the outside screaming and Saylor looking at me like she’s going to kill me. She opens the door, and I hear, “Fuck you, Travis Kidd. You’ll pay for this.” And before I realize what’s happening, Saylor is out of the car and the cab is speeding down the road.

**Also Available on Heidi’s Website here:**

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About the Author


Heidi McLaughlin
Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot.

When she isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games

Heidi's first novel, Forever My Girl, is currently in production to be a major motion picture.

NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author

Release Blitz - A Cowboy Wedding in Scotland by Em Taylor @emtaylor_3

☆.•°*°•.☆ Release Day Blitz ☆.•°*°•.☆
#stetsonsandkilts #hotcowboys #emtaylor
A Cowboy Wedding in Scotland 
By Em Taylor
Stetsons and Kilts Series Book 2

Release Date 20 October 2016

Louise was pleased when her friend found love with the cowboy turned viscount, Cole Macallan eighteen months ago. Really pleased. She’s even helping her now pregnant friend to plan her wedding, even if Rhona is a bit of a Bridezilla. So it’s no bother to go to Glasgow Airport to pick up Cole’s brother, Jake and bring him back to Strathdougall. But that’s where the perfectly laid scheme goes agley – to quote Robert Burns.
A first kiss before they’ve been introduced, Jake’s oversharing about his disability and an argument about a suitcase means their friendship doesn’t get off to the best of starts. But when a flood at the hotel threatens the wedding Jake and Lou have to put their growing attraction aside and work together to save the wedding and stop Bridezilla from finding out and losing her mind completely.
Can Jake and Lou really forge any kind of relationship? A cowboy with a below-knee amputation and a Scottish accountant with a quick tongue and bad habit of speaking without thinking? Can a cowboy lose his heart to a girl who’s afraid to be wrangled?

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Also Available in this series:

An American Cowboy in Scotland
Stetsons and Kilts Series Book 2
Romance, sex, hotness
Sometimes in a kilt, sometimes in jeans
What more could you want? 


As Rhona Lorimer waits for her new boss to arrive, she reckons things can’t get much worse. The manager of the Scottish estate has to explain to her new American boss that the estate is in ruins and there’s no money left. When the drop-dead gorgeous cowboy turns up in full Highland regalia, looking like he fell off a shortbread tin, Rhona knows she has her work cut out. 
The locals don’t take to Lord Cole Macallan, so Rhona feels obliged to show him hospitality. But the guy is hot. Can Rhona fight her feelings for her new boss as their worlds collide and they discover just how much Scotland and America are two countries divided by a common language… but brought together by mutual passions? 

This book contains scenes of an adult nature

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About The Author:

Em Taylor lives in a small cottage in a small village in Scotland near to a small castle. You'd think she was visited daily by handsome men in kilts but sadly it's only spiders than seem to invade her home. When she's not writing about sexy dukes, vampires and cowboys, she's knitting, going to sci fi conventions and generally getting up to mischief.

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Release Blitz - Fore Play by Shelly Alexander @ShellyCAlexande

ForePlay by Shelly Alexander 
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“She wants to play. Game on.” —Leo Foxx
Giving a woman what she wants is my business. I’ve built a career on it. I mean, is there anything more beautiful than seeing a woman get exactly what she wants, exactly the way she wants it, with exactly the man she wants it from? Nothing I’ve ever seen comes close.
There’s just one little catch. Sometimes women go looking in the wrong places. Sometimes they need a little help figuring out what they want in a man. That’s where I come in. I’ve spent years studying what women want. I mean what they really want.
Sounds like a great job for a guy, right? A dream career. Especially since it’s become so much more. It’s a multimillion-dollar corporation called Checkmate Inc., and I’m the CEO. One of the youngest on record. Except a few feminist groups have gotten the wrong impression and are starting to make noise. Something about how Checkmate helps give guys an unfair advantage over women. And the one woman who can help me can also sink my company to the bottom of the Hudson—and drag me along with it.

The event photographer my assistant hired corrals me and Checkmate’s other two founding partners for a photo op. Dexter Moore, in charge of our retail division, flanks my left side looking metro-stylish, having traded his coveted white socks and flip-flops for expensive Italian shoes to look the part of his job. Unlike in our college days, he now manages to brush his dark hair and wears a neatly trimmed mainstream-hipster look. Oscar Strong¾Oz, as we call him¾head of Research and Development, takes the spot on my right, dressed more comfortably in jeans and a trendy blazer. He’s also mastered the uses of a brush since our punk-ass-kid days are over, but he goes for a looser flow-and-comb look for his light brown hair. Khakis are a thing of the past for all three of us, seeing as how that was our standard uniform when we were members of our college chess team.
But all three of us kept the glasses. Sort of a pact between bros, so we never forget our roots and what it took to get here.
“Let’s make this quick. There’s a problem in the lab, so I gotta go,” Oz says. Really, he just hates getting his picture taken.
“Your sister just walked in.” Dex is the opposite and loves smiling for the camera. The flash goes off once, twice, three times in quick succession.
My eyes trek to the entrance of the rotunda. Since I’m six-two, I can see over most of the crowd. My little sister is a full foot shorter than me, and it’s impossible to find her in the ocean of guests all talking, eating, and drinking. But a path parts in the crowd, heading in our direction, and even though I can’t see her, I know it’s Ava. She’s determined and far too bold for her own good. Which makes me batshit crazy when it comes to protecting her from douchebags who will take advantage of her and break her heart.
The photographer tells us to strike a different pose, and we do. Oz grumbles under his breath. Dex strikes a pose worthy of a GQ fashion shoot. I sigh and smile and watch for my sister as she makes her way toward us.
The path weaves left then back right, and finally Ava reaches the fringe of the crowd. She’s five years younger than me, and a protective instinct surges through me because I’ve been her guardian since our parents were killed in a car accident eight years ago. That’s right: I’ve been her brother, father, and mother all at once, since I was twenty-one. I’m told the family resemblance is unmistakable since we have the same vivid blue eyes and honey-blond hair that has a natural wave to it—physical description courtesy of my personal life-stylist at Checkmate’s anchor retail studio on Fifth Avenue.
Okay, fine. Wardrobe, haircut, and really cool Armani glasses courtesy of the personal life-stylist too.
Ava waves, smiles, and then I see her. Not her, as in my little sister. Her, as in the brunette trailing behind Ava, trying to keep up. And I remember that Ava said she was bringing a friend who works in public relations. Thick dark brown hair is pulled into a ponytail that brushes over one slender shoulder. Her clothes are elegant and professional with a subtly chic edge to them. She’s looking down, like she’s making sure not to step on any toes. Then she breaks free from the crowd too, and her head darts up to look around just long enough for me to glimpse the stark contrast of cobalt eyes.
Cobalt. My favorite element on the Periodic Table.
As they approach, Ava opens her arms wide to give her big brother a hug. But I’m not actually looking at my sister. I’m looking over her shoulder. Her friend’s gaze lifts to mine, locks on, and holds me mesmerized. The way she carries herself tells me she’s confident and self-assured. Probably smart as a whip. And then it happens. Everyone else around me melts away as she pulls a plump, red lip between her teeth. Long black lashes flutter downward to break our eye contact, and I know.
I’ve never met her. I don’t even know her name yet. But that small gesture with her lip and the downward brush of her long lashes tells me she’s not sure what she wants from a man. She’ll figure it out, though. The women who are confident in every other area of their lives always do. I also know that when the light bulb finally switches on, she’s going to ask me to fuck her. And I won’t be able to say no.
About the Author
A 2014 Golden Heart® finalist, Shelly Alexander grew up traveling the world, earned a bachelor’s degree in marketing, and worked in the business world for twenty-five years. With four older brothers, she watched every Star Trek episode ever made, joined the softball team instead of ballet class, and played with G.I. Joes while the Barbie Corvette stayed tucked in the closet. When she had three sons of her own, she decided to escape her male-dominated world by reading romance novels and has been hooked ever since. Now, she spends her days writing steamy contemporary romances while tending to a miniature schnauzer named Omer, a tiny toy poodle named Mozart, and a pet boa named Zeus.

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