Monday, November 28, 2016

BOOK TOUR - Own by KI Lynn & N. Isabelle Blanco @Nyddi @KI_Lynn_


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Own by K.I. Lynn & N. Isabelle Blanco is the highly anticipated conclusion to the Need Series!

Get your copy now at:

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Blurb
Kira’s finally mine.
Mine.
And nobody and nothing is going to take her from me. I’ll fight for her, to the death. Do anything for her.
There’s no more living without her. No more holding back my feelings.
If only it was enough.
We’re surrounded every day.
Watched.
Stalked.
Judged.
Everyone knows us. Now, they suspect. The odds are stacked against us more than before.
We live in the shadows, hiding our love from the entire world.
But not for long.
I refuse to live like this anymore.
I’ll do whatever it takes to own her. I’m waging a dark war against those that stand against us.
And I will win.
That girl is going to be mine forever, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.


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Excerpt
Why the fuck is Kira at this party?
Stupid question.
I have no right to begrudge her this. She should be here, having fun, experiencing college to the fullest.
It just burns that she came here without telling me. That she didn’t even think of inviting me.
That she’s pushing me away while making time to sit on the grass with Austin.
If Dana hadn’t told Ryan to call me, I wouldn’t have known Kira was here.
This party is taking place in one of the student’s homesa mansion so fucking big, it’s bordering on ridiculous.
I’m never going to find Kira here, and according to what Dana told Ryan, Kira’s shitfaced. Drunk out of her mind.
And Dana lost her.
Growling under my breath, I push past the crowd, ignoring every drunk girl who tries to grope me.
Sometimes I wonder how I ever got high off this kind of attention. How my ego fed on it. It’s annoying as fuck.
I’ve already checked the large ass kitchen. Two of the sitting rooms. The foyer. The pool room. And almost every room upstairs.
I get a text from Dana. Marilyn just spotted her going into the movie theater on the first floor. OMW there now.
Of course this place has a movie theater, too.
Fucking ridiculous, as I said.
I about-face and practically fly down the stairs. I have no idea where the hell the movie theater is, so I grab a few people as I walk and ask them.
All of them are as clueless as I am.
They look at me as if I’m crazy.
To them, I probably look like I am.
Finally, I find one person who knows. Don’t know who he is, don’t care. He points me in the right direction, and I rush away without even thanking him.
The theater is all the way in the back of the house, in an area that’s actually empty. I get there in time to see Dana opening the door and rushing in.
Man, she’s an awesome girl. I could never thank her enough for caring for Kira the way she obviously does.
I go inside and find the small theater empty, except for Dana, Marilyn . . .
And Kira.
My breath whooshes out of me at the sight of her. I’m instantly hard, aching, furious, and possessive.
We haven’t fucked in days and I’d be lying if I said my balls aren’t full to bursting. I need sex right now like I need air and she’s the only person to give it to me.
But she came here, in that tiny, dark purple dress.
I have no right to tell her how to dress--but what the fuck is she doing coming to a party dressed like that without me?
Kira’s leaning against one of the chairs all the way at the front of the theater, refusing to move despite Marilyn urging her.
It’s obvious she really is drunk as a motherfucker.
“I just want to be alone, guys,” she says, almost whining.
I refuse to be amused. Now’s not the time. I’m too pissed at her.
But, fuck me. She’s sexy, adorable, and those lips are begging for my cock.
“I know, sweetie. But it’s not good for you to be alone right now.”
Kira swats Marilyn away. “Stop your shit, woman. You’re not my mother.”
Even Dana laughs at that one.
“She’s not. But I’m your man. And I say you’re not going to be alone.”
They all turn to stare at me as I walk down the short steps toward them.
Kira’s eyes flare with resentment.
With lust.
She rakes me with a cold stare that still manages to burn my entire body with how hungry it is.
Damn. If any of these girls just happen to look down a bit, they’re going to get an eyeful of how hard my dick is.
“I don’t want you here, either.” She swats me away like an imperious little queen.
“Girls. Leave us.”
Marilyn and Dana hesitate at my tone.
I don’t have time for this shit. “Now.”
Dana snaps to action first and leads Marilyn up the stairs and out of the theater.
Kira’s still looking at me with that rebellious hunger, a lust-filled sneer on her face.
I have no qualms about reaching down and palming my dick in front of her.
Her eyes flare hungrily.
“We’re leaving, Kitty. Now.” I can’t fuck her until she sobers up considering how angry at me she is, but I’m getting her home.
Kira steps toward me and stumbles at bit.
I rush forward and catch her, pulling her up against me.
Contact. Seering, torturous contact. I have my arms wrapped around her, my hands on her ass, before I realize what I’m doing. As always, it’s an instant reaction. Absolutely zero control over my own body.
Kira pushes at my chest and that sexy small growl she gives me turns me on so much. “Don’t touch me.”
My barely leashed temper snaps free. “Like hell. You’re mine.”
She struggles against me, her body sliding along mine. “Excuse me if I don’t want to go back to fucking the dick I’ve seen inside Jennifer two too many times.”
She’s hurting. I get it. Shit, I’d be even more feral in her shoes.
But I’ll be damned if I let her pretend she doesn’t want me anymore.
Fisting her hair, I slide my other hand under her dress and roughly shove her panties to side.
Kira lets out a broken gasp at the feel of my fingers slipping inside her.
I move them around on purpose so she can hear how wet she is. “Lie to me again. Tell me you don’t want me,” I growl in her face.
Her arms wind around my neck and she slams her lips against mine. Growling at me like she  hates me and wants to eat me at the same time, she kisses me with everything she has.
Owning me.
Trying to control me.
I want nothing more than to show her who’s fucking in charge here, but she’s licking my tongue like it’s the tip of my dick, and her hips are thrusting up and down, fucking my fingers.
Using me for her pleasure.
Her body locks up, her plump pussy swelling around my fingers. A throb, a rush of liquid, and she’s squirting into my hand, her sexy moans echoing between our lips.
God damn.
I manhandle her, my mind cracking under the pressure of so much need. Spinning, I fall to my knees on the short steps and place her beneath me.
The steps are short but they’re huge. Enough to accommodate her lower body on one.
Kira leans back with her elbows on the step above her. Head thrown back, gorgeous throat exposed, she struggles to pull in air.
I lean back on my haunches and yank my belt open.
The sound makes her raise her head. By the time her eyes are on my crotch, I already have my glistening cock out in my hand.
She whispers my name like a prayer.
Finally.
This is what I need. No more distance. No more pain. Just her and her nearly demonic need to have me.
And I need this even more.
I grab her thighs and tug her toward me. Kira says my name again. Her hands land on my shoulders, fisting my shirt.
I spread her legs wide, wider than I probably should, and slide that juicy cunt right onto my dick.
Her body arches off the stairs like she’s being possessed.
She is.
If I haven’t left enough of me inside her for her to understandfor her to acceptthat I own her and always will . . .
I’m going to remedy that.
And there’s nothing she can do about it.
I pull my hips back, slow, hissing at the slick feel of her pussy walls tightening. Trying to keep me in.
Kira whimpers, clenching me even harder.
Wanting to let me go and powerless to do anything but keep me.
Using all my strength, I slam back into her.
One hard, vicious thrust.
She cries out and comes all over me.
Again.
Just like that.
I crack my neck, a growl purring through my chest, and lay into her. No mercy. No thought.
I’m close. Just a few more pumps into that slick cunt.
Kira fists my hair, her moans bouncing off the walls around us. I lower myself down and brace my elbows on either side of her head.
She tries to tug me down and kiss me.
I slide one hand beneath her head, fisting that beautiful hair, and drag her up to me. “Who told you that you could come here dressed like that?”
She bites my lip hard enough to make my vision snap white. I think I taste blood. “Fuck you. You don’t own m” She chokes on her words with my next thrust.
I can’t stop groaning, yet somehow I’m laughing in her face at the ridiculousness of her statement. “You want to keep fucking lying to yourself, Kitty?”
She hisses like the wild cat she is and leans up to lick across my bottom lip. When she pulls back, I see it.
Her lips are stained with the blood she drew from me.
I press my lips to her, our tongues dueling. We’re nothing but a mindless mass of sex, and I can feel the come rising up my shaft.
In the back of my head, it registers that I hear people speaking.
Drawing closer.
On the other side of the door.
“That bitch ruined my life!”
“First off, don’t ever call her a bitch in front of me. Got it? Secondly, you have no proof it was her that sent your parents that video. Third, back the fuck off, or I’m going to forget we were ever
The door opens.
I raise my head enough to look up. For a split second, the fact that we’ve been caught freezes me.
Then I see two pairs of familiar blue eyes locked on us.
Jennifer.
Austin.




Haven’t read this series yet?  
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Meet K.I. Lynn
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K.I. Lynn is the USA Today Bestselling Author from The Bend Anthology and the Amazon Bestselling Series, Breach. She spent her life in the arts, everything from music to painting and ceramics, then to writing. Characters have always run around in her head, acting out their stories, but it wasn't until later in life she would put them to pen. It would turn out to be the one thing she was really passionate about.

Since she began posting stories online, she's garnered acclaim for her diverse stories and hard hitting writing style. Two stories and characters are never the same, her brain moving through different ideas faster than she can write them down as it also plots its quest for world domination...or cheese. Whichever is easier to obtain... Usually it's cheese.

Meet N. Isabelle Blanco
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N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

N. Isabelle Blanco spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn’t handling her “spawn”, as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.


SALE BLITZ - Naughty Holidays 2015 by Nicole Edwards

Title: Naughty Holidays 2015
Author: Nicole Edwards
Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance, Gay Romance, Romantic Erotica
Published: December 1, 2015
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Ryan Trexler is hell-bent on getting his husband the best Christmas gift. One that will make Z think about him all year. Only he doesn’t have the slightest clue what to get him.

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Release Blitz - Make Me by Hazel Jacobs

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Book: Make Me
Author: Hazel Jacobs 
Series: Black Lilith #3
Cover Designer:Jesh Designs

Synopsis

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Harper Styles can’t believe she’s really doing this. It’s one thing to take a job as an escort to pay her way through college. It’s another thing to fly to Ohio and pretend to be some stranger’s girlfriend so he can get through a wedding without his family climbing all over him. 

She’s outside of the airport when she meets possibly the most beautiful man she’s ever seen. Later, in the first class lounge, she realizes that this man is her client—Slate, world-famous drummer for Black Lilith. 

Slate needs a girlfriend to deflect his parents’ attention from his womanizing, rockstar lifestyle. Unable to convince his best friends to lend him their girlfriends, he’s resorted to hiring an escort to pretend to be his lover and smooth the rough relationship he has with his family. 
She asks him for his real name, but he gives her a coy smile that makes her weak at the knees. He also makes it absolutely clear that he will not sleep with a woman he’s paying. As long as she’s technically his employee, he will not take advantage. But the chemistry between them is immediate.
Harper can be anything a man needs, but she’s starting to realize that what Slate really needs is a woman to break through his walls.

FAN MADE TRAILER 


Purchase Links



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Excerpt 

Harper needs a smoke before she kills someone. 
Her fingers shake a little as she steps out of the cab and onto the curb outside of JFK Airport. She’d spent most of the drive staring out the window, desperate for something—
Anything to calm her nerves. But they just got louder and more insistent when she starting seeing planes in the air and buses with ‘Airport Express’ written on them. She was really doing this. 
The cabby hands her the purple carry-on she’d packed hastily that morning. She thanks him. It’s a bit chilly, even for New York in March, and she pulls her coat tighter around her neck as she fishes in her back pocket for the cabby’s tip. 
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, giving her a wink.
For a moment Harper panics. Does he know? Is he expecting—
But then he’s gone, and Harper forces herself to relax. She’s got a heavy black jacket on, and beneath it is a simple flannel and blue jeans. Her black hair is done in gentle waves. She deliberately went for an all-American girl look this morning, even forgoing makeup beyond a little light concealer to hide the sleepless night she’d had. No one can tell what she’s doing here. And even if they could, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of girls take jobs to put themselves through college, and even though this job isn’t the sort of job she’d tell her grandmother about, she refuses to let herself feel ashamed, or dirty, or any of the other words that come to mind when people hear the word ‘escort.’
God, I need that smoke. 
She heads for the Departures door and makes a quick detour to the gaggle of people waiting outside, their shoulders hunched in the cold and their fingers curled around cigarettes. There’s a garbage bin overflowing with butts and a general air of desperation as these people suck up as much nicotine as they can before they have to get on a flight. Harper isn’t addicted—she’s a casual, nervous smoker. No personal trainer worth her salt would have anything more than a casual fling with cigarettes.
Harper pulls a packet out of her purse. The lighter she brought with her is a cheap throwaway since she knows she won’t be able to get it through security. She can buy a new one when she arrives in Iowa. 
She’s never been to Iowa before. She had to Google it last night when her boss-madame—she doesn’t know what to call Angelica Spencer—telephoned to tell her that she’d be getting on a plane in the morning. That her first job as an escort would be literally escorting someone to a wedding of all things, and parading as the man’s girlfriend for his friends and family. Harper thinks he must be some kind of big deal since Angelica emailed her an NDA to sign before giving her the plane ticket. The contract didn’t say his name. It just referred to him as ‘the client.’ But whoever he is, Harper feels kind of bad for him. 
Is he one of those social outcasts who can’t get a date? 
Her lighter won’t work. She keeps flicking it, her fingers shaking with a combination of nerves and cold, and she mutters under her breath as the damn thing spouts sparks but no flames. The cigarette remains unlit between her lips and she almost wants to cry with frustration. This is not the time for this damn lighter to stop working!
“Need a hand?”
Harper looks up at the voice and feels her jaw drop.
The man in front of her is quite frankly—stunning. He’s hidden most of his body under a heavy suede jacket, but Harper’s been working to be a personal trainer for half her life, so she knows an impressive specimen when she sees one. His biceps bulge beneath the fabric, and she doesn’t need to look any closer to know that there are some rock-hard abs hidden under all of his clothes. He looks like the kind of man that guys at the gym keep posters of for inspiration. 
But the body is only half of it. His face is strongly defined and casually handsome. Model worthy, she thinks, and sweet Lord what she wouldn’t give to see this guy in an underwear campaign. He’s got blond hair which looks a couple of days away from needing a wash, and eyes the color of dark chocolate. 
She realizes she’s staring when those eyes flicker down to the cigarette still dangling from her lips. She recognizes that he’s holding a lighter and it’s immediately clear that she’s acting like an idiot.
“Oh, thanks,” she says, hastily throwing her own cheap lighter in the garbage behind her. 
She turns back and the man extends his hand. He flicks the lighter quickly and the flame launches without a problem. Harper gazes at it for just a moment before leaning forward, sucking in a breath of smoke and mint as the cigarette catches light. She glances up and catches him staring at her lips, which are fuller than average and one of her best features.
“Thank you,” she says again, drawing away and taking another drag of smoke, enjoying the way his eyes never leave her mouth. She pulls the cigarette from her lips and blows out a long stream of smoke.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he replies. Harper grins at the obvious double entendre. “Don’t suppose I can bum a smoke?”
Harper hands him the packet she’s still holding. He takes it from her and their fingers brush, and Harper shivers because neither of them are wearing gloves. He’s got chipped black nail polish, which usually isn’t much of a turn on for Harper, but on this guy it is. Hell, this guy could probably stand there in a unicorn onesie and she’d find it a turn on. He really is a beautiful man. 
He lights his cigarette, seemingly exaggerating the movement of his lips and watching her the whole time. Harper obliges him by admiring the show he’s giving her.
“Thank you,” he says, blowing out a stream of smoke and handing her back the packet.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” she replies as she shoves it back into her bag.
He laughs easily. It’s a deep, chesty laugh. If it weren’t for the smoke coming out of his lips, she would have thought that he was a singer. But singers don’t smoke. Then again, she’s going to be a personal trainer, so she isn’t exactly in a position to judge. 
“Are you a singer?” she asks.
He frowns with his eyebrows, but the rest of his face smiles. “No,” he says. “Why do you ask?”
“You have a nice voice.”
He stops frowning. “Thank you,” he replies, delighted. “So do you. But I’m not a singer, I’m a drummer.”
“Oh,” Harper says. She observes his muscles again, wondering if it’s a combination of carrying and beating drums that gave them to him. “Professional?”
“On my better days.” He blows out a lungful of air. Even though they’re surrounded by people, Harper feels like it’s just the two of them. He has this way of looking at her which makes her feel as though she’s endlessly fascinating. 
“Must be nice.”
“It keeps me off the streets.”
They smile at each other. Harper can’t remember the last time she felt this easy with a guy. She doesn’t think it’s just his smooth moves. Since she moved to New York, she’s had plenty of men give her nice smiles and let their eyes linger. She’s pretty enough, with a slim figure thanks to her routine, but with one of those ‘girl next door’ faces that she despised in high school, but has since become a blessing and a curse. It makes her approachable. 
This guy, for some reason, isn’t just flirting which wouldn’t be enough to set him apart from the others who have flirted with her in the past. He’s giving her the courage to flirt back, though how he’s managing it she can only guess. Usually, she’s looking at her feet, wondering what a man wants, wondering whether she wants him, and wondering if there’s something she’s missing or if it’s all a joke. Usually, she needs to know a guy before being flirty with him, which is why she’s only ever dated friends. Men she knew through mutual acquaintances who weren’t afraid to take the lead in romance. But this man just makes her want to smile and keep smiling, and ask him if he wants to get dinner and a movie, like some high school movie cliché. 
“What about you?” he asks. 
“I’m tone-deaf…” she says, “…and I can’t keep a beat for anything.”
He grins. “I meant what do you do for a living?” he asks.
I have sex with people for money. 
Not technically true. She hasn’t had sex for money yet. 
Today is her first time—her first client. And she could just tell him that she’s a personal trainer even though she’s not certified. Yet. Only one year left, and if the mountain of student loans weren’t looming over her like a monster from a fairy-tale, she would have been excited about it. Instead, here she is, getting ready to board a plane with a stranger and fly to Iowa with him. He’ll probably keep her ‘working’ all weekend. She wishes she’d asked Angelica to give her a one-nighter first. A man who just wanted to fuck and leave. How is she supposed to pretend to be a man’s girlfriend in front of his family if she doesn’t know him?
Thinking about that makes her look at her watch. When she sees the time, she panics.
“Shit,” she says, taking one last drag of her cigarette and throwing the butt in the garbage. The man she was talking to looks confused. “Sorry… I’ve got to, ah… sorry…”
She grabs her purple carry-on bag and speed-walks toward the doors. 
“Hey, wait!” the guy calls after her.
“I gotta go I’m gonna be late—”
“What’s your name?” 
Despite her instincts—she’s never going to see him again, what’s the point in looking back—she turns her head to see him watching her go in confusion. He’s still got the cigarette in his hand. Now that she’s looking at him from a distance, she realizes he’s got a battered brown backpack at his feet. 
“Harper!” she calls back before she can think of a reason not to. She’s never going to see him again. And it’s just a first name. But it feels good to think that he’ll have something to call her in his head if he ever thinks about her again. All she’ll have is ‘the sexy drummer,’ which is maybe for the best considering what she’s about to do.
Then she’s passing through the doors and all but running to the check-in counter. She’s got a client to meet at the bar of the American Airlines lounge, and she can’t afford to be late.
She checks her ticket again to make sure she hadn’t dreamed up the First Class designation. Whoever her client is, he’s generous enough to buy a hooker an expensive seat.
Stop calling yourself that. You’re an escort, and there’s nothing wrong with that. 
She repeats the sentiment over and over as she joins the First Class queue at the American Airlines desk, though there’s a small part of her that wonders if the men surrounding her in business suits can tell. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone for all-American. Maybe high class would have helped her blend in more. 
Her ticket is under her own name. Harper Lee Styles. Her mother thought ‘Harper Lee’ was a good idea at the time. But Harper reminds herself that she will need to introduce herself as Tiffany. That’s the name Angelica picked out for her. 
What a cliché, she thinks to herself as she hands over her ID and is waved through to security clearance. 
A few minutes in security and an aggressive pat down from one of the lady guards, and she’s speed-walking to the American Airlines airport lounge. She checks her watch again and breathes a sigh of relief. She’s early. She doesn’t need to meet her client for another ten minutes. 
She slows down so she can savor this moment. It’s not every day she gets to go into an airport lounge. She wishes her mom and dad could see her now. Then she remembers how she got the First Class seat, and decides that it’s probably best they can’t. She just wishes she’d finished that cigarette.
The lounge is all done up in blue and white and the chairs look ridiculously comfy. There’s a free buffet along the wall with fruits, vegetables, and a pasta salad that looks particularly tempting, and it’s completely deserted. Harper wonders where the rest of the people in the First Class line at the check-in desk are. She shows the bored-looking woman at the reception her ticket. She expects to get some sort of third degree, but the woman just waves her through with a sigh. Harper steps tentatively into the lounge, realizes that no one’s going to come and kick her out, and then she relaxes. She even allows a small smile to grace her face.
At the back of the room, a long black bar beckons. The back wall has a mirror which is obscured by every kind of hard liquor she can imagine. She resists the urge to order something really strong because she needs her wits about her if she’s going to do this. 
It’s not just the expectation of flirting, though that is something she dreads, there’s the sex part as well. She’s no blushing virgin, not by a long shot. It’ll just feel… she isn’t sure how it’ll feel. Maybe like it’s hanging over her? Like he’ll be expecting her to start stripping the moment, they get somewhere private, and she’ll have no choice because he’s paid for her? She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to cope with that. Will he expect her to fuck him on the plane?
“Something to drink, Miss?” the bartender asks. She looks younger than Harper but is obviously old enough to serve alcohol.
“Ah… just water, please,” Harper replies. 
“You sure? We’ve got champagne.”
Harper’s stomach churns at the thought. “Just water, please.”
Gazing at the mirror while the bartender pours the drink, Harper begins to wonder what her client will look like. The thought is immediately cut off when she sees the sexy drummer’s reflection in the mirror.
She spins around on her stool, clutching the bar for support. How did… what did, she can’t even form the thoughts. 
He gazes around the lounge, apparently looking for something. Then his eyes fall on her and he blinks for a moment, before grinning. He starts to make his way over to her and Harper begins to panic. He’d looked confused for a moment like he wasn’t expecting her, but what if he’d followed her there? What if he’s still talking to her when her client shows up? She can’t afford to be seen with another man when she’s already been bought and paid for.
She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off. 
“Tiffany?” he asks, his lips turning up in a crooked smile. 
Harper’s heart pounds in her chest. No way, she thinks, no way. 
“Yes?” she replies hesitantly.
He sticks out his hand, with its chipped polish and leather cuffs which she hadn’t noticed until now. “I’m Slate. I’m your client

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Early Feedback

This book was love it was sensual it was hot and it was sexy. Bravo to you Hazel Jacobs on another delicious 5 star read. Thank You! ~ Goodreads Review

Hazel brings us great stories with wonderful writing. This is a definite must read. ~ Goodreads 

Make Me is a light and fun read leading to hea, no heavy dramas or angst, includes great main and secondary characters that I would love to read more about in the next book from the series. ~ Best Book Boyfriend

About The Author

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Hazel Jacobs is a passionate fan of romance novels and a crazy fan of rock and roll. Never trained as a writer, she began creative writing as a hobby. That quickly evolved into a mission to pen a novel that brings a new generation of readers into the wild realm of loud music and total passion.

Stalker Links


PURCHASE BOOK ONE
Black Lilith


PURCHASE BOOK TWO 
All Or Nothing


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Release Blitz - With Murder In Mind by Viveca Benoir @VivecaBenoir

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Book: With Murder In Mind
Series: The Matt Saga
Author: Viveca Benoir
Genre: Dark Romance

Synopsis

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The sixth book in the Matt Saga. The characters find themselves all moving forward towards their own personal goals of revenge and survival. For Matt, Julian, and Devia, their lives forever entwined, things will never be the same. Marie continues to dance to her own tune.

Age 18+. Some chapters contain adult scenes of violence and graphic sexual content.


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Purchase Links


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About The Author

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Born to British Army parents, Viveca grew up in Europe and speaks six European languages fluently, which basically means she can buy food wherever she goes. Married, with two biological children, plus four adopted children. Now, years later, the kids all grown up, she is an international best selling author, writing a variety of genres. Her hobbies, when not writing, include sailing, flying, ski-ing, fencing, dressage, and playing the cello.

You can Stalk Viveca Here:


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Release Blitz: After We Fall by Melanie Harlow @MelanieHarlow2

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After We Fall by Melanie Harlow Publication Date: November 28th, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis:

Jack Valentini isn’t my type.
Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave.
Jack might be gorgeous, but he’s also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a “rich city girl” like me, and he isn’t afraid to say so.
But I’ve got a PR job to do for his family’s farm, so he’s stuck with me for ten days, and I’m stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles.
His huge, hard muscles.
Pretty soon there’s a whole different kind of tension between us, the kind that has me misbehaving in barns, trees, and pickup trucks. I’ve never done anything so out of character—but it feels too good to stop.
And the more I learn about the grieving ex-Army sergeant, the better I understand him. Losing his wife three years ago left him broken and bitter and blaming himself. He doesn’t think he deserves a second chance at happiness.
But he’s wrong.
I don’t need to be his first love. If only he’d let me be his last.
“Second chances are not given to make things right, but are given to prove that we could be even better after we fall.” —Unknown

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About the Author:

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.
Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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