Release Blitz: Touch the Dark boxed set

Touch The Dark

12 Fantasy, Sci/Fi, Paranormal Interracial Romances from Bestselling Authors

He lingers in the shadows, eager to caress your soul.
Hushed whispers call out to you, luring you toward the darkness.
Beneath the wavering fear, a fever rises within. Lust, ecstasy…
Don’t be afraid. Before death, pleasure is guaranteed.
Close your eyes, reach out to the unknown…

Angel Rising ~ LaVerne Thompson
“To live, she must feed her hollow soul.”

Silent Screams ~ Yvonne Nicolas
“Torn Between darkness and light, can Rayne save mankind?”

Nylora’s Fate ~ Serenity King
“Unleashed passion has led Nylora to a fate unknown.”

Sable ~ Dariel Raye
“Orderly attorney, fiery sentinel wolf, made for each other.”

A Kiss of Ashen Twilight ~ Rae Lori
“Worlds collide when a Nightwalker and Fae fall in love.”

Homebound ~ Ursula Sinclair
“We don’t belong here.”

With Friends Like These ~ Stephanie Williams
“With friends like these who needs sex toys?”

Hunter’s Hit List ~ Lolah Lace
“Hunt or be hunted.”

AngelBorn ~ L. Penelope
“He gave up eternity for love… and lost.”

Birth ~ Krystell Lake
“Everlasting life comes with a price… her freedom.”

Spirited Away ~ Ines Johnson
“The trip to find herself led out of this world.”

The Alphas & Olivia ~ Bria Knight
“Two males, one female, what’s a werewolf to do?”

Get Touch the Dark for your Kindle at Amazon.


strong-enough-promoI am a huge fan of Nia Forrester’s novels and novellas. She writes about complicated relationships, families, love and all of its foibles in such a way that I never get enough of it. Today she shares some insight to her latest book, Ivy’s League (which I’ve already devoured and will be reviewing soon).

Dive into her sample: I’m convinced you’ll want to read this fantastic book!

Source: SAMPLE SUNDAY: Ivy’s League

Release Blitz: Autumn Kisses by Té Russ

When Rowan Hunter begins to suffer from a bout of the proverbial writer’s block, his editor offers up his beach cottage in Martha’s Vineyard. Prepared to relax, unwind and pray that the words begin to flow again, he gets an unexpected surprise one evening.

To the world she is known as the eccentric jazz singer Sapphire Woods. But to the small town of Oak Bluffs, Massachusetts on the Vineyard, she is simply Laurel Asher, their best kept secret. In need of some time out of the spotlight to work on her next album, Laurel goes to the one place that’s always been home.

Thanks to a misunderstanding Laurel and Rowan end up under the same roof. As the house has more than enough room, they decide to share the place. But what neither of them expects is the sensual attraction that begins to build up.

As the color of the leaves begin to change and fall to the ground, these two find themselves falling as well–for each other.

Rowan breathed in and out deeply as he ran down the beach for his evening jog. There was something different…more peaceful getting his daily exercise done on the beach. Back in the city when he ran, the city smells of gas exhaust surrounded him, now he was taking in the salty sea air. Instead of listening to his music to block out the sounds of grumpy people and horns blaring in traffic, he was able to leave his headphones back at the house and just enjoy the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
He’d been in Martha’s Vineyard for almost two weeks now and he’d fallen in love with the place. He could imagine staying there forever. It was as if time slowed down, even stood still out on the island. Especially since the vacation season had passed. He’d arrived at the perfect time and thank his lucky stars he’d even been able to write a little. It wasn’t much yet, but it was better than nothing.
He’d done as Harry asked and called to let him know when he’d arrived at the island. Harry told him, again, to make himself at home and take as much time as he needed using the house.
He’d spent the first few days exploring. His ego got a little boost by how many people recognized him and asked for his autograph or wanted their picture taken with him. But they weren’t over the top about his recognition, which he appreciated. The town of Oak Bluffs was low key and laid back.
Rowan made his way back to the house, waving and speaking to the few people along the beach, out for an evening stroll. Once he was on the porch he stomped his shoes, getting the sand off of them before he walked into the house. After he felt like he wouldn’t leave a trail of sand in the house, he went in through the kitchen entrance off the side of the house.
He went straight for the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water out and drank it down in a few gulps. He grabbed the hoodie he’d worn to fight off the evening chill and was about to pull it over his head and start for the shower when he heard a click behind him.
His pulse began to quicken, recognizing the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
“Don’t move.”
He raised an eyebrow and felt something further south raise as well. He hadn’t expected the person he was sure had a gun pointed at the back of his head to have a voice so silky, so smooth and so damned arousing.
You could very well be shot right now, he told himself, and you’re turned on by the sound of your possible killer’s voice.
He shook his head as a chuckle slipped out.
“I said don’t move,” she said, more firmly.
“Hey,” he said, calmly. “There must be some kind of mistake.”
He was about to speak again, when he heard the sound of a low menacing growl.
Great, she has an attack dog too.
“You’ve got five seconds to explain what the hell you’re doing in my house.”
“Your house?”
“Yes, this is my home. And you’re trespassing.”
“I’m not trespassing…can I at least turn around?” he asked.
He could sense her hesitation. Finally she said, “Slowly, with your hands up.”
He did as he was told and for a brief second he thought he might have already died and gone to heaven. The woman in front of him looked like an angel, with her big halo of tight curls spiraling around her face and across her shoulders.
She stood there, gun pointed at him with her feet braced firmly apart ready to pull the trigger if he so much as blinked wrong. And beside her was a bullmastiff standing tall and looking ready to defend its mistress. The dog was so massive, he stopped above the woman’s waist. He wondered if she walked or rode the huge animal.
“I’m not trespassing,” he repeated. “I was invited.”
“By whom?” she demanded.
“Harry Asher.”
He could tell by the look on her face that she recognized the name. She took one hand off of the gun and reached into her pocket.
“Don’t move,” she said again, as she pulled out a phone. She dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.
“Lolo! How are you, my girl?”
Rowan instantly recognized Harry’s voice. He would have breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn’t feel like he was in the clear yet.
“Uncle Harry?” she said, her voice full of apprehension. “Is someone staying at the beach house?”
“Yes, I sent one of my clients out there. He needed somewhere he could write in peace. I didn’t tell you since you’ve been out in L.A. for a while.”
“Well, I’m not in L.A. anymore,” she mumbled.
“You’re not? Wait…are you at the beach house?”
“Yes, I’m at the beach house.”
Harry must have heard something in her tone, because suddenly his voice was frantic as he said, “Christ Laurel! Put the gun down.”
Clearly Harry knew his niece well. What was probably more accurate was he’d taught his niece well.
She instantly dropped the gun to her side.
“Coltrane!” Harry said next. “Stand down boy.”
The once intimidating dog, whimpered, tucked his head and laid down at Laurel’s feet.
“Hunter? Are you okay?”
Rowan removed the hoodie from his head and watched as Laurel’s eyes grew wide with recognition.
“I’m fine Harry,” Rowan said. “But thanks for helping get things cleared up.”
“No problem. How’s the writing going?”
“It’s getting better.”
“Good. I’ve got a dinner meeting so I will let the two of you hash the rest of this out yourselves. Oh and Lolo?”
“Yes, Uncle Harry.”
“Put my gun back. And apologize,” he ordered, before hanging up the phone.
Laurel slid her phone back in her pocket and glanced up at Rowan.
“I really am sorry,” she said quietly, looking embarrassed.
Rowan grinned at her and said, “You were protecting what was yours, right? I’m just glad we got things worked out before you actually used that thing.”
“It’s just that sometimes squatters try and stay in the vacation homes in the off season.”
“You don’t have to explain anymore. But how about we do some proper introductions,” he said, walking toward her.
He held his hand out to her. “I’m–”
“Rowan Hunter,” she said, slipping her hand into his.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“I recognized you after you took your hood off,” she said, sheepishly.
“Next thing you’re going to tell me is you’ve read all of my books and you’re a huge fan,” he teased.
He watched the corner of her mouth tilt upward as she said, “Your headshot in your books doesn’t do you justice. You’re much more handsome in person.”
“Is that a fact?”
She smiled again and pulled her hand away from his. “I’m Laurel,” she said.
“Harry talks about you all of the time,” Rowan informed her.
“He probably exaggerates,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“And who is the behemoth?” he asked, although he’d already heard Harry called the dog by his name.
“This is Coltrane,” she answered.
“Interesting name. Hey, there Coltrane.”
At the sound of his name, Coltrane barked and stood on his hind legs. Rowan held his hand out and Coltrane sniffed it for a second. Once the dog decided he wasn’t a threat after all, Coltrane swiped his large tongue across Rowan’s hand.
“Well,” he said, trying shake the slobber off of his hand, “it’s nice to meet you too, Coltrane.”
He looked up at Laurel and grinned. “And it’s nice to meet you, Laurel, despite the circumstances.”
She hung her head, blushing again. “You have to let me find a way to make it up to you.”
“That’s not necessary–”
“I insist,” she interrupted. “I just got in, so I’m feeling kind of gritty from the plane ride. So how about we get cleaned up and then we can go out for dinner. My treat.”
“Okay,” he relented. “I’m in the master bedroom, if that’s where you stay I can get my stuff and go upstairs to shower.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “The second story suite is my favorite spot anyway.”
He nodded then they turned in opposite directions to head for their bedrooms.


Té Russ found solace in reading at an early age and a vehicle which broadened her horizons. As an adolescent she used writing to express her unspoken words. Since then, she has gone from writing stories in diaries to attending college for journalism and falling in love, which has allowed those youthful words of love to blossom into a series of stories in her romance novels. This Texas wife and mother of three can be found reading, skydiving, cheering for her MMA fighting husband at, buzzing down the interstate on the back of motorcycles, or kayaking.


Blog Tour: Best Kept Secrets by Shelly Ellis

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Between the fall-out from his father’s latest shady business dealings and his wife Charisse’s alcoholism, Evan Murdoch has his hands full. But he should be most concerned about the scandalous affair Charisse is having right under his nose–with his half-brother. Evan’s being pushed to the edge, and no one knows that better than Leila Hawkins…

Leila is back in Chesterton, divorced, penniless, and desperate enough to do anything to save her mother’s home from foreclosure–including turning to Evan, her former best friend. But Evan isn’t interested in friendship. Instead he makes Leila a shocking indecent proposal…

Meanwhile, Evan’s newlywed sister, Paulette, wants to be the perfect wife. But a blackmailing bad boy ex has reappeared in her life–and he’s threatening to reveal her most painful secret…

The scandals just won’t quit–and for everyone involved, desire, betrayal, and lies are all in a day’s work…


Hey, sexy,” a female voice said from over Evan’s shoulder. He turned to find one of Paulette’s bridesmaids smiling up at him. She laid a warm hand on his arm. “Wanna dance, baby?”

“There you go! A distraction, Ev,” Terrence said. “Just what the doctor ordered! Go out there and get your groove on, boy!”

“Uh, I’m married,” Evan muttered to her, holding up his ring finger and ignoring his brother. He returned his gaze to the ballroom.

“So! I’m not asking you to run away with me! I’m just asking you to dance,” the bridesmaid persisted. She wrapped an arm lazily around his shoulders. “Come on! Dance with me!”

Evan narrowed his eyes down at her.

Her name was Angie. Or was it Amy? Something that begins with an A, he thought.
Loose curls had fallen out of her chignon and one lock hung limply over her heavy-lidded, glazed brown eyes. One of the straps of her satin dress was hanging off her shoulder, revealing the lace bra underneath.

If he had wanted to dance with a drunken woman tonight, he would have just asked his wife for a twirl on the dance floor.

“Look, why don’t I do this?” he asked, gently shifting the young woman toward the bar counter. “Instead of us dancing, why don’t I get you a cup of coffee?” He then motioned to get the bartender’s attention.

“I don’t need a cup of coffee,” the bridesmaid argued. “I said I wanna dance!”
She then shoved away from Evan and turned, snagging the heel of one of her stilettos in the hem of her dress. She stumbled forward with arms flailing wildly.

“Oh!” Terrence shouted. “There she goes!”

Both brothers caught her just before she tumbled.

“You got her?” Terrence asked, shifting her toward his older brother.

Evan nodded, slowly bringing her back to feet. “Yeah, I got her.”

The bridesmaid gazed up at Evan and Terrence woozily. She slumped against the older brother’s broad shoulder. “I don’t . . . I don’t feel so well. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Sick?” Terrence exclaimed. He eased back and pointed at his tuxedo. “Oh, no! Not on this! This is a Tom Ford.”

“You’re a real prince, Terry,” Evan murmured sarcastically. He then returned his attention to the bridesmaid. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll get you to the ladies’ room. All right?”

She closed her eyes and weakly nodded.

Evan guided her across the crowded ballroom to the double doors, drawing a few curious stares from wedding guests. There was nothing he hated more than making a scene. Having a woman besides his wife clinging to him was bound to cause some talk, but he couldn’t let her stumble drunkenly around the reception, or worse—lose her five-star dinner right there on the parquet dance floor. Like with his wife, Charisse, it was better to spirit away the bridesmaid to a place where she could recover privately. Terrence was obviously no help so Evan would have to take care of this himself.

Evan stepped into the carpeted foyer with his arm wrapped around her waist and her arm draped around his neck.

“I’m really going to be sick,” she murmured again.

“I know. I know. I’m working on it,” he grumbled, glancing frantically around him.
He struggled to remember where he had last seen a women’s bathroom. Finally, he saw a few women streaming out of a door on the other side of the foyer’s winding staircase. He walked toward them and started to ask if one of them could help him, but when the women’s bathroom door opened again, the words halted in his throat.
Leila Hawkins stepped out of the tiled bathroom into the foyer. She dropped a compact into her clutch purse, snapped the steel clasp shut, and looked up to find Evan staring at her. Her mouth fell open in shock.

“Evan,” she whispered breathlessly.

His jaw clenched. “Leila.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Leila was as gorgeous and sexy now as she had been ten years ago. The only thing that was different was her hair. It was shorter now, chin-length and cut in a fashionable bob. He also noticed that she was wearing heels, something she had never worn when they were younger because she had said she didn’t know how to walk in them.

Her honey-hued skin glowed under the foyer’s chandelier lights, and she looked elegant and alluring in the simple pale yellow cocktail dress that hugged every delectable curve in just the right place.

She doesn’t have a right to look this good, he thought. He’d prefer for her to be a hunchbacked cyclops, or at least to have gained forty pounds or more. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about reacting to her like the way his body was responding now.


Barnes & Noble
Indie Bound

Shelly Ellis HeadshotAUTHOR BIO

Shelly Ellis is a NAACP Image Award-nominated women’s fiction/romance author and creator of the Gibbons Gold Digger series. Her fiction writing career began when she became one of four finalists in a First-Time Writers Contest when she was 19 years old. The prize was a publishing contract and having her first short-story romance appear in an anthology. She has since published five novels and has been chosen as a finalist for 2015 NAACP Image Award in the Literary Fiction Category, 2012 African American Literary Award in the romance category, and won a 2013 Angie Award.

She is married and lives in Maryland with her husband and their daughter.


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Hi everyone, my name is Paul and I’m a recovering sex addict. I’ve been managing my addiction for two years.

Paul McNeill loves sex.  Good sex. Bad sex. Oral sex.  Any kind of sex.  You name it; he loves it.  But Paul’s biggest passion is his greatest flaw.  As a recovering sex addict, he’s been abstaining and managing his addiction for over two years.  Now, all the wants is to fall in love and find that certain someone he can settle down with.

But when he finds himself on his knees on Elle Jacoby’s damp lawn, he knows there’s going to be trouble.  Elle quickly becomes Paul’s biggest challenge yet.  She’s instantly set him ablaze while he begs to be hosed down. As he gets to know her more, the flames burn even hotter.

How can he resist a hot divorcee who’s amped up to have all the fun she’s missed?

Warning: For mature audiences only. If you don’t like graphic sex, sex talk and curse words in books this story isn’t for you.

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     “Elle, have you ever considered that the whole bunch of men looking to hook-up on Tinder could be bad apples?”

      “You’re so funny!”

      “I’m not joking,” I say.

      “Seriously Paul, I’ve decided to throw myself back into the game.”

      “But Tinder’s not really a game, Elle . . . it’s more like the mosh pit. What if you get head butted again?”

      “I’ve realized the mistake I made. This time I’m going to spell it out to the dude before we get to the sexing.”

      “Spell it out, huh?”

      “Yeah, no weird stuff like latex or furry suits. No demeaning talk or behavior. No bondage. No threesomes.”

      “Or foursomes?” I ask.

       “Ewww, no!” she says.

       “Are you trying to make me feel bad?”

       “What? No, why?”

       “I told you about my foursome.”

       “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about that. That was when you were a man-whore.”

       “Yes, thanks, although I prefer the term ‘sex fiend’.”

       “Well . . . that’s still what you told me.”

       “I did. So see, I’m the very guy you wouldn’t want to sleep with.”


       “Yet, you pretty much asked me to screw you when we met. Do you see how complicated this is?”

       “Can I ask you something, Paul?

       “Sure, why not? You know so much about me already.”

      “Did you do men too back during your sex fiend days?”

       I almost drop the phone. “Sex with dudes? No! Why would you ask that?”

       “So your orgy was really just you and a bunch of women. Did you have a harem or something?”

       “I could have.”

       She huffs into the phone. “Oh really? A harem? What if you’re making all this stuff up? Why should I believe you and all your big talk?”

       “If you don’t believe me, I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything.”

       “What if you made up all those sexy stories . . . like that you were addicted to sex. What if you’re really more like your accountant brother?”

      I feel the vein pop out on my forehead. Why is she screwing with me?

      “I know what this is about,” I whisper in a dark voice.

      “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

      “You’re provoking me, trying to get me to come over there and fuck you and break my oath. Well, it’s not going to happen.”


      “Yup, good.”

      “Because you know what, mister? You don’t fit into my profile anyway.”

      “Oh that’s rich. You must have one hell of a profile.”

      “Well look at you. You’re searching for a little complacent wifey who will roast your chicken and birth you a bevy of babies.”

      “Roast my chicken? What’s that a metaphor for?”

      “It’s not a metaphor, it’s dinner.”

      I roll my eyes. “You’re pretty weird, you know.”

      “And you don’t want to fuck anymore and nothing’s weirder than that . . . so who’s calling the kettle black?”

      “Who says I don’t want to fuck? I never said that. I want it.”


      “Sure.” I want it bad. So bad it hurts, but I don’t tell her that.

      “So it’s that you just don’t want to fuck me?”

      “Oh, I want to fuck you. Right now I want to throw you on the bed and ride you so hard you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

       There’s a long silent pause. Maybe that was too much.

       “Ms. Jacoby, are you still there?”

        “I’m here, Paul Junior. I’m just distracted thinking about you throwing me on the bed.”

       “And mounting you?”


       I hear a soft moan.

       “And fucking you hard?”

       “God, yes.”

      “So you really want that, do you?”

      “You’re cruel. Are you going to make me beg for it?”


      “Please . . . Paul, are you touching yourself? Because I am.”

      I pause.



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Ruth Clampett, daughter of legendary animation director Bob Clampett, grew up surrounded by artists and animators. A graduate of Art Center College of Design, she has been VP of Design for Warner Brothers Studio Stores and taught photography at UCLA. Today she runs her own studio and as the Fine Art publisher for Warner Brothers Studios has come to know and work with some of the world’s greatest artists in the fields of animation and comics.

From this colorful background comes Ruth’s first novel, Animate Me, a fun and sexy, unique and engaging contemporary romance.

Ruth lives and works in Los Angeles, strictly supervised by her teenage daughter, who helps plan their summer around their yearly pilgrimage to the San Diego Comic Con.

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Amazon author page  Goodreads

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Review: Boyfriend by Faye McCray



BF Cover Final (Online)Boyfriend by Faye McCray

ISBN: 1508818142
Publisher: CreateSpace
Pages: 332 Paperback; 214 Kindle
Publication Date: 3/23/2015
Genre(s): New Adult, Multicultural, Romance, Literary
Intended for mature readers.


Nate Best enrolled in college to escape a painful and complicated past. Together with his roommate, he parties more than he studies and sleeps with girls like it’s a Division I sport. When Kerry Wallace, an innocent young woman from a privileged background captures his interest, he jumps at the challenge. He eagerly denies all he ever was for the chance to be someone completely different with her. Before long, he starts to believe he can be. 

When Kerry’s best friend, Jayna Lavajo, sees right through his good boy façade, he is irrepressibly drawn to her. Unable to resist her wild beauty, unapologetic spirit and charm, he finds himself on the verge of destroying everything. Tangled in a web of lies, lust and deceit, Nate is finally forced to confront the past he tried so desperately to escape.


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I always like when I get to delve into the mind of a male character, especially when it’s a story about relationships. Boyfriend by Faye McCray gives you that opportunity. Nate wants to reinvent himself. He wants to put his difficult past behind him and thinks his relationship with Kerry, who comes from a very privileged background, will help him escape his past. Like so many social chameleons, he begins to believe in the version of himself he has created. But then he meets Kerry’s best friend, Jayna, and suddenly Nate cannot hide behind his carefully constructed facade. She sees through it and him better than anyone else, and it’s not long before Nate finds himself unable to resist being drawn to her free spirit.

Boyfriend is an interesting story of love and identity. Though I felt the beginning was slow going, the story soon picked up and I was able to empathise with Nate, even as he behaves badly. There were times when I wanted to scream at him (and Jayna) but that is always a good sign for me–it means the author has succeeded in getting me to feel something for her characters.  Boyfriend is not an easy story–if you don’t like stories about cheating, then this probably isn’t the story for you. But if you like stories about complicated relationships and what can be the impetus to someone thinking they want one person while longing for another, then you should definitely give Boyfriend a try.

While I enjoyed reading Boyfriend, I felt like it ended a little too abruptly. It would be interesting to revisit the characters and find out if Nate’s decisions lead him to becoming the person he thinks he wants to be.

My rating: 3.5 stars

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Book Tour: Unrestrained – a Duology by Shyla Colt & LaQuette

Title: Unrestrained: A Duology 
Author: Shyla Colt and LaQuette
Genre: Contemp/NA/Erotic Romance
Published: August 28, 2015
Power Privilege & Pleasure by LaQuette 
When a need for unrestrained power and control unfurls…chaos usually follows.
Alexis-Jeovonni Tenetti is the most prolific legal mind of her time. She uses her genius to create intricate solutions for the problems her clients often find themselves in. Her mind sees what most can’t, providing her with the ability to initiate and master the manipulative games she’s accustomed to playing. Her ability to outthink everyone else around her has kept her successful and in control of almost every aspect of her life, and the lives of the clients she serves. 
After all, control is necessary to keep things in order. Order is the only thing that keeps chaos away and allows most people to embrace the illusion of freedom. She was all too aware that freedom came at a cost and was often a privilege of those in power. The one time she’d forgotten that fact and relinquished her control had resulted into the living nightmares that chased her even in her waking hours. 
Life had taught her in a very vivid way that there were only two options in her world…control or be controlled. And the latter just wasn’t an option she was willing to entertain.
Sometimes the only way to regain control is to stop playing the game…
Elliot Alan Quillen was raised in big business; he had everything at his 
fingertips until a tragic accident stole the most important thing in the world to him. Deciding the brass ring that had been dangled in front of his face was no longer an incentive for letting others control him, he walks away from everything his privilege has offered him. 
Cast aside by his overbearing family, Alan is left to pick up the tattered pieces of his life and soul alone. He’s resigned himself to feeling nothing but the pain of loss for the rest of his life until his first encounter with his new boss’ lawyer clues him in that he might just be ready for something more.
Arrogant and frustrating, Alan quickly learns to suppress his desire for the lady lawyer and her infuriating mouth. If only he could stop daydreaming about what that mouth would taste like on his tongue, then maybe he could stop the desire that he’s been fighting like hell to bury along with the rest of his emotions.

When secrets from A.J.’s past come spilling out of her tightly sealed closet and bring danger to her door, Alan has to make a choice. Willingly step into another set of manipulative power games, stand by her and forgive her secrets, or let a murderous maniac decimate A.J. and her entire family.
Or will they both realize that her power combined with his privilege could equal the ultimate pleasure?
For the Love of Dixie (Kings of Chaos #3)
by Shyla Colt

After having her heart broken by Echo, Dixie Dunn makes a new life for herself, away from the Kings Of Chaos. Now, she must return in order to get her stubborn father back to fighting shape after a heart attack. She knows she’ll have to face Echo, as he has made it clear over the years that she still belongs to him. But she refuses to give him any chance to crush her heart again. 

Echo, Joel Spencer knows that Dixie hates him, but he also knows she yearns for him. After being forced by his hateful father to practically leave her at the altar when they were teens, he realizes that he has his work cut out for him. One thing is on his side, he knows what she wants and needs. This time, he WILL make her his again, and to hell with whoever gets in his way.


Power Privilege & Pleasure by LaQuette 
“You think this shit is funny?” he asked. “I was ready to close a deal that was going to bring in millions into the company,” he rumbled, the room shaking with the unexpected boom of his voice.
She tilted her head slightly, staring at him, appearing to really see him and his anger for the first time since he’d come barging into her office. She backed her chair away from the table and stood up. Here face settling in to a canvas of hard tight lines accompanied by the ticking of her jaw.
Was that anger?

In all the years they’d been fighting, in all the years they’d kept this seemingly ongoing professional tug of war going between the two of them, she’d never seemed bothered or concerned with his anger. If he was honest, that was the thing that pissed him off the most about her. While he was ready to punch something, she was always the picture of calm, never concerned with the fact that he was ready to break things after being in her presence for more than five minutes.

Finally, after five years of her passive-aggressive bullshit, we’re really going to have an honest argument.

Almost giddy with the fact that he’d seen a glimpse of actual emotion from the woman standing in front of him, he decided to keep pushing for more. He couldn’t really say why it was so important to him, but there was just something about the knowledge that he’d finally been able to make her lose her shit even in the slightest way, that made him feel like this was a win in his column.

“You made me look like a fucking fool,” he bellowed. He inched closer to her, stepping into her personal space. He pressed and pressed until she was backed up against the table. But even though he had her cornered, her shoulders were pulled back in defiance and holding her head up in that stubborn confidence that she kept in place no matter the circumstance.

“If you felt like a fool, it’s probably because you are. You’ve worked for Kenneth for five years now. This is not news to you, Quillen. You know damn well you can’t make a move without Kenneth or my say so. You were foolish for not setting things in proper order before you ever sat down to close that deal and you know it. Don’t try to blame the shit your arrogance got you into on me.”

She was standing there, hands on her hips, chest heaving, eyes wild looking like the perfect mix of anger and sensuality he’d ever seen. Before he could stop himself he looked down at that luscious mouth of hers and his dick jumped with excitement again, filling and thickening and pulling all of the blood flow from his brain.
That’s the only explanation he could think of for the words that fell out of his mouth next.
“You have the sexiest fucking mouth I’ve ever seen,” he growled. “It would look so much prettier stretched around my cock than spewing the venom you insist on spitting.”

He waited for the slap that he knew was coming. If he’d been on the receiving end of a statement like that he’d certainly have been looking to hit someone. But she didn’t hit him, even though she had every right to. Instead, she stepped closer into his space and spread those fuckable lips into the most alluring smile.

“If you think you’re man enough to get me to put my mouth to use like that, Quillen, then make me. Or are you just all talk?”
For the Love of Dixie (Kings of Chaos #3) by Shyla Colt
I press my foot on the gas and open up the engine of my Chevy Camaro. Black Betty growls. I weave through the cars on the highway; hell bent on reaching my hometown. Thoughts of my father swim in my mind. Is he still alive? Will he survive this? 
The years spent pulling all-nighters, partying hard, and taking on too much stress have finally gotten to him. They wheeled him into Mount St. Joseph hospital two hours ago. 
I made the drive from Santa Monica in under an hour, breaking laws and driving with the aggressive skills honed on the busy highways of California. The familiar landscape is nothing more than a blur. I’m going too fast, and my ability to focus is shot. All that matters is reaching San Mateo. I know how their hospital is going to play it. They’ll bust the club’s balls and tell them they can only let in and release information to the next of kin emergency contact. 

Despite the AC blowing from the vents, a fine sheen of sweat coats my body. My father is everything to me. Mother, Father, sister, brother, and extended family. I never knew my mother, and unlike many single fathers in our lifestyle, he never pawned me off on someone else. His philosophy is…we’re in it together. That means it was him and me against the world. 

And then I left. 

Guilt shreds me from the inside like poison tipped claws, releasing toxins into my bloodstream. I hit the brakes and skid into the parking lot, steering the car precariously into an open spot. I fumble with the seatbelt with clumsy fingers and shaky hands. I manage to remove the strap, stumble from the car and take a shaky breath. This wild-eyed, panicked persona won’t win me any points with the Kings, or help him. 

Knock it the fuck off, Dunn. Time to woman up. 

My heels clack against the blacktop as I walk through the rows of cars. I spot a line of parked motorcycles up front. My stomach drops, and I feel as if I’ve started the decent down a large hill. I run out of steam a few feet from the Harleys, faltering at the thought of facing their knowing eyes and censure. Everyone has an opinion about me and the way I handled things. I’m used to the malicious stares peppered in. It’s the silent accusations that kill me. At least I have the Grans. Grandpa and Grandma Dunn had accepted me and loved me with the single-minded-all-consuming-love that only grandparents are capable of. 

As I stare at the double doors, my past rushes up and consumes me. The loneliness, shame, self-loathing, are the bile creeping up the back of my throat. God hates me. I’ve suspected it from the minute I was old enough to realize how fucked up my living situation was. I didn’t let that stop me. I’m a part of Chaos. We don’t bitch and whine. We change what doesn’t work and keep it moving. It doesn’t matter if we’re dying inside. Maybe that’s why so many of us have a wicked vice of going a little mad. All that holding in emotions and pretending to be okay. Never mind the dirt, blood, and secrets that cover each and every one of us. We can pretend it’s a motorcycle club that loves to ride, but in the back of our minds, the reality is always there starring us in the face. It’s a fucked up thing when you see shit on the news and know the people you love caused it. The club has an ugly side and a hefty price tag. 

I didn’t want to pay the toll, so I left. There was no gain for me. Not when I was treated like a pariah. It wasn’t everyone, just a few. It was one too many. I know I shouldn’t’ have let it stop me. Nothing changes the fact that I ought to have been around more for Pops. 

Maybe this is my punishment for being a shitty daughter. 

A month after I broke my rule about mixing with the club, I’ve returned with no immediate exit strategy in sight. I’ve avoided this place like the plague for over ten years, and now I can’t get away. I’d do anything for my father. The man loved me and fought for me from the minute he knew I existed. It wasn’t easy being a single father in the club. When you add the fact that I represented everything some of the patch members were against, its miraculous I came out as well as I did. I think I was drawn to psychology because what I wanted most when I left San Mateo was answers. About myself, about the world I grew up in, and about people who blindly hate. 

I’ve learned a lot over the years, but the one thing I could never figure out was how to come home without feeling like I was compromising myself and undoing all the work I’d done. I grew up in the club, but I never felt like I belonged. It put a strain between me and my father. I regret my choices now, as I pray the cardiac arrest he went into doesn’t steal him from this world. I let it go too long. I knew better. No one understands better than I and my family, how fleeting life can be. My mind goes back to Psycho’s fucked up assassination, because truly that’s what it was. A senseless snuffing out of life. 

I give advice to people all day long, but I’m too chicken shit to face my demons. It’s ironic really. Those who can’t do, teach. Those who can’t function in a non-dysfunctional manor, become psychologists. Or at least I had. It made me feel like a fraud. Tired of being help captive by the bonds of the past, I square my shoulders like a soldier going into battle, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I gave them the finger once and road off into the sunset with a full ride to college and plans for a good life. I won’t revert to the cowardice preteen now. 

With my spine rediscovered, I enter via the double doors with my head held high. The sight of all their cuts boasting the crowned kings makes me queasy. 

“Dixie Rose,” a voice booms. 

I glance up and spot Stone. 

“Where you been, girl? Get your ass over here, so we can find out how your daddy is doing,” Stone says. His voice is husky and his eyes are bloodshot. 

I scurry over. When this man says something, you immediately comply. “I’m sorry, I got here as soon as I could,” I say, glad to have my task clearly labeled. “What happened?” 

“One minute he was fine and the next, he was clutching his chest, and collapsing. His lips started turning blue. We managed to get an aspirin in him. I don’t know how much good it did.” Stone shakes his head. 

“Are the Grans here?” 

“No, they were out at the cabins. They’ll be pulling in soon.” 

I grip Stone’s arm and let him lead me to the nurse’s station. I cannot lose my dad. “He has to be fine, he’s too damn ornery to let this take him out,” I whisper. 

“His next of kin is here,” Stone says to the nurse at the desk. 

“I’d like to see some identification,” the dark haired nurse with the sever bun and dour facial expression says. 

I grit my teeth, used to the disbelief that comes from having dark skin, and a Caucasian father. I dig into the purse hanging at my side, pull out my Driver’s License and glare as she looks from my picture to the information they have on my father. “I see you are his emergency contact. You’re father suffered a cardiac arrest.” She nods her head. “Okay, Ms. Dunn. I’ll call the doctor in to speak with you.”

“No, you need to tell me something, now,” I say. 

“Ma’am, that’s against policy.” She glances over at Stone nervously. 

“No. You don’t look at him. You look at me. I’m the one you need to be worried about right now.” I lean over the desk. “These men are my family. Don’t let this face and these work clothes fool you. I want to know if my father is alive and I’m not going to wait for you to track down the doctor who’ll take his sweet time getting up here to tell me.” 

She clears her throat and shifts in her chair. “He is alive and stabilized, that’s all I can say.” 

“There…was that so hard?” I ask. 

She shakes her head. Her hazel eyes are full of disdain, anger and fear. 

I want to feel bad, but I don’t have it in me. From the minute I walked up, she judged me and gave me shit at the worst possible time. There were things I missed about this life, like getting straight to the point. There was no need for fake niceties. “You get all that, Stone?” I ask. 

“Yeah, I got it, baby girl. Let me go tell the others,” Stone replies. 

The mention of the others thrusts me back into icy waters. A chill rushes down my spine, and I can’t help but follow his journey with my gaze. I scan the crowd, searching for the one person I want to see the most, and the least at the same time. 

Leaning against the wall, he looks like a mythical being. The golden strands of his hair fall around his shoulders, and his muscles flex in his forearms. All he needs is a hammer, and he’d be Thor. 

His bright blue gaze collides with mine, and I’m lost. My heart bangs against my ribs like a prisoner rallying for freedom. Unable to move, I remain rooted like a tree grown up from the white and green tile floor. 
2015 Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award Finalist in Erotic Romance, 2015 Swirl Awards Finalist in Romantic Suspense, LaQuette, a native of Brooklyn, New York, spends her time catering to her three distinct personalities: Wife, Mother, and Educator. 

Writing–her escape from everyday madness–has always been a friend and comforter. She loves writing and devouring romance novels. Although she possesses a graduate degree in English Lit, she’d forego Shakespeare any day to read something hot, lusty, and romantic.

She loves hearing from readers and discussing the crazy characters that are running around in her head causing so much trouble. 
Shyla Colt grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, but has lived a variety of different places thanks to her wanderlust, interesting careers, and marriage to a United States Marine. She’s always loved books and wrote her very first novel at the age of fifteen. She keeps a copy of her first submission letter on her desk for inspiration. 

After a lifetime of traveling, she settled down and knew her time had come to write. Diving into her new career like she does everything else, with enthusiasm, research and a lot of prayers, she had her first book published in June of 2011. As a full-time writer, stay at home mother, and wife, there’s never a dull moment in her household. 

She weaves her tales in spare moments and the evenings with a cup of coffee or tea at her side and the characters in her head for company. A self-professed rebel with a pen. Her goal is to diversify romance as she continues to genre hop, and offer up strong female characters.



Release Blitz: Secret Obsession by Olivia Linden

Title: Secret Obsession
Author: Olivia Linden
Genre: Erotic Romance/New Adult
 Release Date: August 21, 2015
Finn was the type of man that dreams were made of. A charming country boy. Handsome, hard working and loved his mama. Underneath? A freak in the sheets.

Raven knew he was everything she wanted. But he was her secret.

Raven was supposed to be off limits. Forbidden.

That didn’t stop Finn from wanting her, so he took her. After one taste he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. Everytime she screamed his name an indelible blemish was etched onto his soul. Claiming him just as he had claimed her.

What they were doing was reckless which only added fuel to the flames. With each encounter they edged closer to the fire. Closer to disaster. There was no way for things to end well, but there was no way he could stop.

Lines get crossed, blurred and scratched down his back as they both give into their Secret Obsession.

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Raven stood amongst the spectators as Finn strolled towards the bull. She might as well have been standing alone. Her entire world had been narrowed down to focus on him. The sexy sway of his gait, the way his t-shirt hugged the muscles in his back, and his nice tight ass. And she loved that he wasn’t cocky. Finn had an easy confidence about him that she found very disarming. His warm brown eyes seemed to look right into her, and made her wonder how much of her soul he could see.

Hopefully not enough to know how bad she wanted him. He turned back to wink at her and she felt the flush rise up her neck and cheeks.

In one quick leap, Finn threw one long leg and then the other over the bull. He straightened his back, placed one hand on the hook, and raised the other in signal of his readiness. The music started and after a backwards count from three to one, he was set in motion. After his first five seconds, Raven knew he wouldn’t be falling off anytime soon.

He was magnetic. Looking cool, confident, and in total control as he kept his balance while the bull jerked and swayed. The way he eased his hips forward and arched his back to move with the momentum of the ride was beyond sexy. And the crowd ate it up. Some women cheered, others watched with the same dreamy expression. Finn was a living, breathing fantasy.

The guys placed bets. Most bet that he would last more than a minute. Others thought he would fall at the next unexpected shift. They were clearly haters. No doubt, Finn held the attention of every woman in the room.

He rode that bull for one minute and forty-five seconds. Then he let go on his own accord and threw himself onto the mat, hopping to his feet in the same motion. Raven stood in awe, with her lips slightly parted when he approached her.

“Your turn.”


Finn shook his head and took her by the arm to guide her to the bull.

“No backing out Miss ‘I know how to work my hips’. You’re up!”

Raven didn’t have time to protest. Before she knew it, Finn had her lifted onto the bull and adjusted for the ride. Once she was seated and the popular country song began to play, her nerves settled and her natural performer’s nature kicked in.

“You good?” Finn asked. Raven waved him off, shaking off the trepidation with a wink of her own.

“I got this!”

She raised one arm to signal and then she began to move.

Standing with his arms crossed and a big smile on his face, Finn watched on with a mixture of pride and enthusiasm. He hadn’t seen her, but he’d felt Raven’s eyes on him when he’d rode. Now he was able to watch her, and boy was it a treat.

After a shaky start, where it looked as if she would be thrown in her first three seconds, she righted herself, and rolled with the jerky motions of the bull, syncing to the beat of the music. He couldn’t stop staring at her, not even when Buck tapped him to comment on how hot she looked up there.

In his mind she was riding for him alone, like he was the only man in the room. Without thinking, Finn stalked forward, too drawn to her to stop, and jumped on the bull behind Raven. She laughed wildly and let out a loud hee-haw. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“Hold on, baby,” he whispered in her ear.

Raven’s laughter died down to an uncontrollable smile at the erotic sensation of Finn being so close to her. Finn’s chest pressed against her back. His fingers clutched her hips to guide her to his tempo. And his obvious arousal pressed against the crease of her ass. If she weren’t having so much fun, she would have fainted from overheating.

While they rode he whispered and crooned words of encouragement in her ear. “That’s nice, baby,” and “I love the way you ride,” made her tingle down to her toes. It was all in fun, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how good his body felt against hers and how she could tell he felt the same way. But she knew that they had just crossed some sort of invisible line, a broken yet unspoken rule, and committed an infraction in the whole stepfamily hierarchy.

She knew she was supposed to care.

But she didn’t.

Author Bio
Olivia Linden, a native New Yorker, was raised between Queens and San Antonio, TX. Currently living in Florida with her 10 year-old son, she decided it was time to follow her dreams of becoming a full time author. Her creative itch began when her elementary school principal posted one of her stories in the halls of her school. She was only seven at the time, but old enough to understand how integral writing would be to her future. From that moment on, reading and writing became her two greatest passions.

Olivia is a newbie to the industry, but she hasn’t stopped writing since she found her literary voice all those years ago. Jaded Hearts, her first published novel, mixes her big personality, with a sexy yet humorous tone. It is her philosophy that laughter is essential to making it through even the toughest situations.

Find your passion with Olivia Linden.

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Blog Tour: May Williams’ Michigan Moonlight


coverAnimal Prints

By: May Williams


Photographer Ian Kroft’s dream is to finish his book on fellow veterans. When his father offers him the funds he needs in exchange for persuading a family to sell their farm, it sounds simple. Then Ian meets Colette and in a flash everything changes.

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snow-prints-web-2Snow Prints

By: May Williams


With a successful career, and his dream house under construction, the only thing missing from Adrien Peterson’s life is love. Since high school, Adrien’s heart has belonged to the irresistible Gracie Sinclair. If only he could make her see it.

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fingerprintsFinger Prints

By: May Williams


Police detective Gabe Sinclair sees broken laws and broken lives every day. The last thing he needs is to add to the list is a broken heart. The law he’s made for himself is never let a relationship get serious—that’s how he got burned before. So when Gabe hears the word “love” he calls it off—even though the word is coming from the lovely Sylvia O’Shea.

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author_mwilliamsAuthor Bio

May Williams is convinced she read every book in the public library of her hometown as a kid. They were wonderful inspiration for life as a novelist. If she’s not reading or writing, May can be found pursuing her other two passions – sewing and running. May lives happily in a little town on the shores of Lake Erie with her husband, two children, three cats, and one oversized dog.

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She wrapped her arms around the neck of an all white alpaca, murmuring soothing words. Her flaming hair blew against the animal’s fur, reminded him of how it looked against her pillow early in the morning after a night in her bed.

Without planning to, Gabe took a step closer and reached for her. “Syl…please…I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her eyes met his, their expression unreadable. Before he could do anything else a radio crackled to life behind him. “Large quantity of TNT found in the building on the southwest corner of the farm. And we’ve got diesel fuel and ammonium nitrate. Looks like the tip was good. You got her, Miller?”

“Please,” Gabe pleaded with her across the inches that divided them, while ignoring the buzz of excitement that went through the assembled officers.

“Cuff her, Sinclair, or I’m going to own your badge.” Miller’s voice cut through the still air.

Gabe waited. Several seconds ticked by. Would she fight him or, worse, try to run? He wanted to say something, anything to her, but his brain wouldn’t form the words.

With a defiant look, Sylvia raised her white wrists to Gabe. He grabbed one wrist, spinning her around and snapping the cold metal on her arms, more roughly than he meant to. “Sylvia O’Shea, you’re under arrest for the possession of explosives without valid license and permits. Anything you say can and will…” He droned on, although he no longer heard what he was saying. He brushed the alpacas aside and guided Sylvia from the pen.


Cover Reveal: Wet by Ruth Clampett

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Hi Everyone, my name is Paul and I’m a recovering sex addict. I’ve been managing my addiction for two years.

Paul McNeill loves sex.  Good sex. Bad sex. Oral sex.  Any kind of sex.  You name it; he loves it.  But Paul’s biggest passion is his greatest flaw.  As a recovering sex addict, he’s been abstaining and managing his addiction for over two years.  Now, all the wants is to fall in love and find that certain someone he can settle down with.

But when he finds himself on his knees on Elle Jacoby’s damp lawn, he knows there’s going to be trouble.  Elle quickly becomes Paul’s biggest challenge yet.  She’s instantly set him ablaze while he begs to be hosed down. As he gets to know her more, the flames burn even hotter.

How can he resist a hot divorcée who’s amped up to have all the fun she’s missed?

Warning: for mature audiences only. If you don’t like graphic sex, sex talk and curse words in books this story isn’t for you.


Release Date : September 8th

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Ruth Clampett, daughter of legendary animation director Bob Clampett, grew up surrounded by artists and animators. A graduate of Art Center College of Design, she has been VP of Design for Warner Brothers Studio Stores and taught photography at UCLA. Today she runs her own studio and as the Fine Art publisher for Warner Brothers Studios has come to know and work with some of the world’s greatest artists in the fields of animation and comics.

From this colorful background comes Ruth’s first novel, Animate Me, a fun and sexy, unique and engaging contemporary romance.

Ruth lives and works in Los Angeles, strictly supervised by her teenage daughter, who helps plan their summer around their yearly pilgrimage to the San Diego Comic Con.

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