Book Sales – Thirteen Books Just 99p/c Each

#BookSale: All books listed below are 99p/c at the time of posting. Grab yourself a bargain!

⭐️ = Recommended Read

The Piano Man Project by Kat French – new release
UK http://amzn.to/1LV4Ruv

⭐️Always You by Kirsty Moseley
UK http://amzn.to/1DW4wl0
US http://amzn.to/1Iup9FO

Reasons Not To Fall In Love by Kirsty Moseley
UK http://amzn.to/1Iuot3m
US http://amzn.to/1fPFWfz

Free Falling by Kirsty Moseley
UK http://amzn.to/1LV53Kv
US http://amzn.to/1IOUF7P

⭐️Before & After by Nazarea Andrews – new release
UK http://amzn.to/1LV5ft6
US http://amzn.to/1VRyth2

Searching For Someday by Jennifer Probst
UK http://amzn.to/1pMM09v

The Year Of The Rat by Clare Furniss
UK http://amzn.to/1DW5n5c

⭐️You by Caroline Kepnes
UK http://amzn.to/1LV5wfq

⭐️Black Ice by Becca Fitzpatrick
UK http://amzn.to/1DW5eyv

When I Fall by J Daniels
UK http://amzn.to/1DW5wp5
US http://amzn.to/1IOVhdQ

*** books not listed above in US, are not 99c***

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Chapter and Teaser Reveal – BEFORE & AFTER by Nazarea Andrews

I am completely in love with books by Nazarea Andrews, so it’s safe to say I can’t wait to dive into Before & After, which releases in just 3 days!! Belo you can find not only the prologue to this story, but also the first 2 chapters!! Enjoy.

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Rike and Peyton fell in love in college.

A boy from the wrong side of the tracks, covered in ink and crooning in a bar is the last person a straight laced girl with a art major should fall for, but his rough edges made her jagged, alive, shaving away the coddled southern princess and revealing a soul wild and brilliant.

They fell in love, despite her family and his past and all the reasons why it wouldn’t work–and with their best friends, they made a life. Everyone was supposed to live happily ever after.
They, more than anyone, knows that life doesn’t go according to plan.

Rike and Peyton fell in love in college. A boy with a guitar, and a poet’s heart, and a girl with freckles dusted over her nose, a perfect fucking fairy tale.

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Prologue: Now

It’s raining buckets and I don’t want to go out in that. I stared at it from under the awning of the club and felt Lindsay sway into me. For a second, we both wobbled and another one of the girls banged against my side and I shrieked, sure we were going down.
Lindsay rights me, pulls me close. I lean my head on her shoulder and puff out a petulant, “Bitch.”
Her grip tightens just a touch and she laughs.
I haven’t been this drunk since senior year of college, when we did Christmas at her parent’s beach house in Key West. I wouldn’t be this drunk now except she begged.
Hung over and washed out wouldn’t do for the wedding, and even after that insane night on the beach with jello shots and beer funnels and tequila body shots, I had woken up without a hang over.
And that’s what you do, when your best friend begs the night before her wedding–you do her shots while the rest of the bridal party screams at the strippers and you slip her watered down beer that smells like piss.
You take the holy fuck never again drunk, because tomorrow, no one will be looking at me while she prances down the aisle in white.
Well.
One person will. And he’d think this shit was hilarious. I giggle against Linds’ shoulder and she bumps me gently. “You good?” She murmurs as we wait for the cab.
I smirk up at her, the world spinning unsteadily. “I’m fucking wasted.”
She laughs softly and kisses my forehead.
“Lindsay, get in,” one of the other girls calls and she peers at the cab. It won’t hold all of us, and I can feel a new tension settle over my best friend.
Lindsay doesn’t have a lot of close friends. Partly because we came here, to this city neither of us knows, because of the boys. So we both started over.
And because when we have each other, and the boys, well. We don’t need much else. But she’s more social than I am. And she works at a small ad agency, where she’s gotten close to the other girls.
So when she needed bridesmaids, of course she asked them.
I smirk as Lindsay shakes her head. “Y’all go. Peyton and I will grab the next.”
There’s a moment of rain splattered quiet and then the girl–I forget but I think she’s one of the Jennifers–shrugs and slides into the little cab, slamming the door behind her.
“What a bitch,” I mutter.
She laughs, that real noise that I know like breathing. Not the fake shit she’s been shoveling at the other girls all night.
“Stop it,” she orders and I blink up at her. “You’re thinking too much. Your drunk, Pey. Let go and enjoy it.”
I lean into her, and murmur, “Wanna help?”
She laughs again, shoving my shoulder, and I giggle. “You are such a slut when you drink.” She mutters.
I nod agreeably, and a cab pulls up. It’s dingy and the driver is frowning at his phone even as it he pulls to a stop. He gives us a distracted look as we spill in and the world sways, dizzy for a long moment. Lindsay tugs me against her as I whimper and pushes my hair back, studying me. “The Embassy Suites,” she says and he nods, jerking into motion.
Linds mutters under her breath and reaches for her seatbelt. “Sit up, honey. Belt. The rain is awful.”
“Freaking mother hen,” I grumble and she shrugs, implacable. I huff and shift to sit up and my phone goes off, the ringtone that only Rike has. I squeal and Lindsay reaches for me as I scramble for my purse, abandoned on the dark, dirty floorboard. I close my hand over it and hear her scream, my name a twisted noise that is almost unrecognizable.
It’s the last thing I can’t remember.

Chapter 1: Before

The bar is riding the line of slow and dead, which is depressing as fuck, because playing to an empty room is always a little bit of a letdown. Scotty doesn’t bitch—he doesn’t give a fuck who listens, as long he has a mic and his guitar with me to back him up.
Scotty could play to an empty room, and still be a happy motherfucker. He’s done it often enough.
Lamar swings by the bar with a fresh round of long neck bottles, and I stand from where I’m adjusting the drums to take it from him.
“Slow night.”
He shrugs. “It’ll pick up. You play, and it always does.”
True. But it’s been months since we had this low a turnout to work with.
Barrie’s is a dive and that’s putting it nicely. It’s a fucking hole in the wall in a college town, and has delusions about which college town it landed in. It wants to be a bigger deal than it is. But it’s our hole in the wall, and Lamar keeps the free beer coming as long as we keep the music playing.
There’s even a sticky dance floor, coated with spilt beer and other things I don’t want to name, and some nights, we manage to draw enough of a crowd that they pack that little floor and scream along to our cover songs.
And there’s another reason we keep coming back. The real reason I keep coming back.
I take a beer and glance at the little booth that sits empty and almost forlorn in the corner. It isn’t usually empty this late on a Thursday night. She’s usually here by now, and the absence strings nerves along my skin, making my foot tap anxiously.
Scotty is watching me, and I shove down the unease as I swallow more of the beer and tap my drums, a quick beat that pulls a low response from the small audience.
He gives them a sexy half smirk and I see a girl at the bar texting. I hit the drums again and he glances back at me. I cock an eyebrow at the girl and he grins, not the smirk he reserves for the audiences, but the shit eating grin I’ve seen on my best friend’s face so many times. The one that promises trouble and good times, and the distinct likelihood of getting laid.
A grin crooks one side of my lips, and I nod at him. Slam my sticks together twice before throwing myself into the beat of a popular summertime anthem.
Scotty follows my lead, crooning about summer and trucks, beer and good times and the girls who are pouring in off the street scream our names.
Scotty lives for this shit. He always has. For the high of the girls and the crowd, the ones who for a few hours make him forget that we’re two months behind on rent. That everything outside the circle of bright lights is a world of shit and heartache.
Because here, it’s not. Here we’re fucking untouchable, and as they sway to our music and the beat I’m keeping with my drum sticks.
He loves this. And I get it. Not because I care about the girls—I do, in a abstract sort of way. I love it because for a few minutes every night, between covering the bullshit on the radio, we roll out a song that no one has heard before. Sometimes, they love it. Sometimes, I come out from behind the drums, and croon to the room, a song that bares my fucking soul, and even with the lights so bright they’re blinding, I can see her in her little booth, hair pulled up and messy, eyes half lidded as she listens.
It’s the closest I’ve come to talking to her. Because I know better.
A girl like her isn’t meant for me. She’s poise and pearls, peaches and cream skin and private smiles.
I’m covered in ink and scars and hiding from my own fucked up past, and so far below a girl like her that it’s stupid to even consider it.
I do though. Every fucking time I see that tiny smile when I sing.
She doesn’t know I write for her. But I do. It’s the only way I’ve allowed myself to talk to her. At night, when Scotty and I stumble home drunk and high off the performance, when one of the barflies don’t end up in bed between us and—sometimes—on the nights when one does.
Scotty changes the rhythm and I shift, matching him as he slides into a ballad, crooning to the crowd. A group of sorority girls in a uniform outfit of tiny shorts, hooker heels, and tops that flash smooth curves are on the dance floor, writhing and singing along, and I wonder which Scotty will tap to come home with us.
She isn’t coming in. It’ll be the first Thursday night in almost three months that she hasn’t been here and it bugs me. I want her here.
Even knowing how bad an idea it is, how different we are—I want her here.
I miss a beat, stumbling on the rift and Scotty sends me a sharp glance, kicking in with a solo to cover me. I shake my head once, and he shifts his attention back to the crowd as we give in to the music.
It’s the third song of the second set, when I’ve shoved her out of my mind almost completely, that the door swings open, and she stalks in.
She’s out of place in a blue sundress and white sweater, an oversized bag at her side, her long red hair swirling around her face in a halo of angry curls.
She’s fucking gorgeous and the sudden release of tension is almost dizzying.
And right then, I decide. Fuck all the reasons it’s a bad idea. I’m tired of giving a shit about that. She can shoot me down if she wants—but first I’m going to give myself a shot.

***

“You’re girl was late,” Scotty rasps as we land on two stools at the bar. It’s late and the crowd of sorority girls has thinned to almost nothing, although a pair are nursing Cosmos and watching us speculatively.
Surprisingly, Scott’s ignored them completely.
“Need anything, boys?” Manda asks as she sways past, giving Scotty a flirty smile. He grins at her, letting his gaze sweep over her.
My best friend is a fucking slut. But with Manda, it’s all flirting and no action. She’d take him up on it—she’s made that very clear. But Scot doesn’t fuck where he works, and Barrie’s has been too good for us to risk screwing it up for a quick fuck.
Which is good, because I’d have to kick his ass if he touched her. She might be a little too friendly and a little desperate, but she’s a cute kid and I like her.
“Bourbon, Manda,” he says and she glances at me questioningly. I nod and she pours the drinks. Scotty glances at me. “What are you waiting on?”
I shrug and grit my teeth. Scotty twists and gives her a look over his shoulder. “Fine. Stay here and keep Manda company. I’m going to introduce myself to your siren.”
I jerks him back by the collar of his shirt before he can take more than two steps and throw him back against the bar. “Back the fuck off, Scott.” I growl.
He grins, a challenge and a taunt in that expression. “Then make your move, Rike.”
I snatch the bourbon from Manda and take a deep breath before walking to her table.
And wait.
For a long. Fucking. Time.
It takes almost a full minute for her to look up, almost long enough for my courage to fail. I’m ready to retreat when she blinks and looks up at me, her blue eyes widening a little as they find mine. She looks startled, and sleepy, and as gorgeous as she looked at a distance, is nothing compared to how fucking flawless she is this close.
There are freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and dusted over her nose.
I swallow a groan as she licks her lips and gives me a tentative smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say, and then go blank.
Because in none of my fantasies did I ever consider we’d actually ever get to this point. And the smirks and smooth lines won’t work—not on her.
“What do you call a group of unorganized cats?” I ask and her eyes cloud, confused.
She gives me a pretty frown and I grin, “A cat-astrophe.”
For a second, all either of us do is stare, and then she giggles. “That is literally the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
I grin, “So you want me to leave?”
Laughter dances in her eyes. “Have a seat, jokes.”
My heart shoves up into my throat at the casual nickname and invitation but I keep my cool smile in place as I slide into the booth across from her. She pecks at the computer a few more times, and then twists it aside and reaches for her drink—a whiskey neat.
She normally drinks for vodka cranberry, and I’ve fantasized about kissing that taste from her lips. My dick twitches and she watches me over the rim of her glass, lazy interest in her dark eyes.
“Y’all sounded good tonight,” she offers.
My lips tick up into a grin, “As opposed to most nights?”
A flush crawls up her cheeks. “No! You always sound good. I’m just—“
I laugh, and lean back in the booth. Her adorable embarrassment is too easy to provoke. “I’m kidding, Red. Relax.”
“So how did you get involved in this? The band?”
“Scotty needed backup and it was fun. Something to keep me out of trouble. Neither of us are very good at doing shit without the other.” I say, skirting away from just how true that is and how fucking co-dependent we can be.
“That’s cute,” she says, grinning.
“Yeah?”
“Guys don’t usually do the whole BFF bullshit—not like girls. It’s kinda cute to see a couple of dudes who are good friends.”
There’s a little part of me that wants to point out that we aren’t BFFs. That we were forced together out of necessity and kept together to survive. But I don’t. That’s a little heavy for now, and I don’t particularly want her thinking about my best friend at the moment anyway.
“So what are you doing here?” I ask, leaning forward and tapping the open laptop. “Most girls like you find a library to study in.”
Her eyes narrow a little, and I get the feeling I’m wandering into dangerous territory. “Girls like me?”
Her tone is tight and full of warning, but I ignore it, offering her a lazy grin. “Pretty. Smart. Too damn good to be in this shithole.”
Her lips twitch and I lean forward, into her space a little and whisper. “You’ve been here for months, Red. Distracting and out of place. So tell me. Why the hell do you keep coming back?”
Her eyes are wide and her breath is coming in short sharp bursts and if I lean forward another few inches, I could taste the lips I’ve spent months fixating on.
“I like the music,” she murmurs and I swallow my groan, because fuck if that isn’t the most perfect answer in the world.
“And the computer?”
A flush flares up her cheeks again and she ducks away. I lean back, giving her room as I take a pull on my beer. She’s fiddling with the swizzle stick that came in her drink.
“I write sometimes. And the music is the perfect inspiration.”
I was wrong. She could say something more perfect. I grin at her and say, “You might just be perfect.”
“Might?”
I hesitate and then shrug. “Need a little longer to figure that out, Red.”
Her eyes are still amused but a little wary as she watches me, a finger circling the rim of her glass, catching the drop of whiskey from her last sip. She lifts it and licks the Jack away, and I swallow hard, chasing my groan away with a cough. “Go out with me,” I say, suddenly.
“I don’t date,” she says immediately. She leans back and I want to drag her back to the edge of her seat, force her back into the easy warmth we were sharing even as she slams walls up between us.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because I’m busy and because boys are idiots and because school—I don’t need to be distracted.”
“You aren’t too busy to drop by and listen to me play every week for three months. And I’m not a fucking boy,” I says the last bit tighter and fiercer.
Her breath catches a little in her throat as she licks her lips. “Maybe I’m here for Scotty.”
For the first time in almost two decades, I want to punch my best friend. Because fuck if he’s going to get this girl too, after all the time I’ve spent watching her. I’ve never cared who Scot takes to bed. Usually we take them together—women are no different than any other thing in our world. But the thought of him touching her, or her on her knees in front of him. It makes me irrationally angry.
“Rike,” a sweet low voice purrs behind me and I blink free of my thoughts to twist and meet the gaze of the girl behind me. She’s all smooth curves and long blonde hair and legs for fucking days.
She went home with us a few week ago, and I knew even as she was in bed with us that it was going to be a problem.
“Scotty is flying solo,” I say, turning back to Red. I can feel the sorority girl at my back, the indignant fury from her. Red is watching her with curious eyes, gaze skirting between the two of us. I ignore the huffy girl behind me and say, “You aren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
Her eyes flicker with reserved amusement, and I lean forward, and whisper, “Please. Save me from the sorority.”
Her lips curve into a slow smile, something mischievous and mysterious in the twist of her lips, and I want to see that smile every day. I want to know why it’s different, and what makes it different from the smile she would give me half asleep and naked in my bed.
I blink, shake the thought. Focus on now.
God, she’s fucking with my head, hard.
“Go find a new toy, Lindsay. This one is mine tonight.”
That’s what her name was. Lindsay.
“You’ll like them,” Lindsay says, a smirk in her voice, and Red’s eyes slip past me, settling on the girl and hardening.
Fuck. That’s jealousy, and a part of me wants to fucking crow with victory.
Instead, I reach out and claim her hand, letting my fingers trace over the curl of her palm, bringing her attention back to me as I absently caress her hand. She watches me curiously for a moment.
“Friday. Pick me up.” She reclaims her hand and scribbles on a note card, sliding it across to me. Then she grabs her bag, shoving her laptop inside as she slides out of the booth and across the bar. She stops Lindsay, and murmurs something to the blonde girl.
Curious, assessing eyes flick to me, but Lindsay only nods and turns away from me. Red smiles, and ducks out of the bar.
I glance down at the note card. Her handwriting is messy and strong.
And her name is Peyton.

Chapter 2: After

Sometimes, the loneliness
Is a physical blanket,
A tangible thing that wraps around me,
Like a suffocating wave that won’t recede.
And then your hand,
Rescues me.
(Rike’s poems to Peyton)

Noise. Quiet, steady, noise. It breaks the silence, shrill and sharp, then gone and it’s just a waiting silence. My eyes open, slow and painful, and I look at a fuzzing white ceiling, and the bright silver of a pole near my head.
Why the hell is there a pole near my head?
I open my lips to talk, to ask and a body, one I hadn’t noticed before, shifts in the corner.
The nurse looks at me brilliant blue eyes, and for a moment, I can’t remember what I was going to ask, because there is only his eyes and the questions there, and a scruffy beard, sharp angled face, and long hair that hangs in disarray like he’s been pushing his fingers through it.
“You’re awake,” he says, and I remember that I was asking a question.
But I can’t remember what it was. I think, struggling to hold on to the elusive question and my eyes widen, panic slamming into me. Beside me, the shrill and sharp noise of the monitor that woke me screams to life as my heartbeat slams in my chest.
I can’t remember anything.

***

It takes a sedative to calm me down, and when I wake, it’s slowly, with no idea of where I am. It’s dark—and I remember the light streaming into the room earlier, lighting his ice blue eyes, and the wild panic when I realized everything was a blank slate.
I feel it again, now, but the panic tamer, not as sharp and choking. I shift to sit up in the hospital bed, and glance around.
My gaze lands on the nurse, sleeping in a chair in the corner. His hand is wrapped around a phone, and I wonder, inanely, if he sleeps in all of his patient’s rooms, or if I’m special.
Tattoos snake under the pushed up cuffs of a long, silver blue thermal, and I have the absurd desire to push them up and see what designs will be revealed.
I don’t even like guys with tattoos.
Why is he here? I clear my throat, and his eyes fly open. For a moment, his eyes are sleepy, soft, so intimate it makes the breath catch in my throat, and I swallow hard. Then he blinks, and the hungry emotions are tucked away, and there is only concern there, calm and professional as he pushes out of the chair and comes to the bed.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, glancing at the machine briefly. His eyes flick over it, and his lips tighten before he reaches for a button.
I stop his hand with my own, and see his eyes flare wide, before he closes them, and with a deep breath pulls away from me.
Stung, and strangely embarrassed, I tuck my hand back under my blanket. “Where am I?” I ask my voice shaky with disuse.
How long have I been here, how long have I been unconscious?
“St. David’s Medical Center.” He waits, watching for some sign of recognition, and then adds, “Austin, sweetheart.”
Austin. Why the hell am I in Austin?
“Where would you rather be?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
I blink. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud until he responded, and I feel heat crawling up my neck. His eyes drop to it, and heat, and I clear my throat, looking away. Searching for an answer to his question.
Where would I rather be?
It’s a blank page, my past empty, stretching behind me. For how long? I bite hard on my lip. “How long have I been here?”
“I think you should let me call the doctor.”
“Why can’t I remember anything?” I whisper, and tears sting my eyes. I blink hard, and sniffle. He’s staring at me, his face tight and remote, and I want him gone, suddenly. I want just a minute, to break down in private. Away from this stranger with his tattoos and eyes that see too much.
“Can you call the doctor? And maybe give me a minute?”
He inhales sharply, and I feel a flare of guilt, inexplicably. Then he nods, and steps away from my bed. “Of course. Give me a few minutes to find him. If you need anything—“
“I’ll call the nurse,” I say and he nods.
I don’t know who he is. Why he’s here. Why he looks so strangely hurt by my behavior.
“Do I know you?” I ask, hesitantly.
His whole body seems to tense, and I want to reach out and touch him, to soothe the tight line of his shoulders.
A tattoo is licking up his neck, a bird in flames, just visible over the collar of his scrubs.
“I’ll be back with the doctor,” he says hoarsely.
And then he’s gone, and any answers he might have are gone with him.
It stings a little. Like I should know him, or why he was here—and I don’t.
Why the hell am I a hospital in Austin? Why aren’t my parents here?
Every memory I reach for is blank. A space where something should be but nothing is. It’s like who I am has vanished. The doctor is a Haitian man with skin the color of midnight and a wide smile. And an accent so thick I almost can’t understand him as he explains.
The nurse—not tattooed blue eyes—gives me a notebook, and when the doctor leaves again to find my MRI scans, I write what I know.
I was brought in from a car crash two weeks ago.
I had traumatic brain injury, causing memory loss.
Apparently, I was drunk before the accident and that didn’t help my mental functions at all.
The girl with me is still in critical condition.
Her license says she is Lindsay Murphy and I am Peyton Collins.
I live in Austin.

It’s not nearly enough for me to work with—to build a life on. But it’s all I’ve got, so it’s going to have to do. What bothers me isn’t that I can’t remember. It’s that I’m alone here.
What the hell kind of life was I living, that I am so fucking alone?
The door opens, and Tattooed Blue Eyes enters with a paper bag. He eyes me for a minute, and I stare back silently.
A tiny grin turns his lips, and he comes deeper into the room sitting down in a chair near my bed.
“Knock knock,” he says, and waits, staring at me.
I frown, “Who’s there?”
“Hatch.”
“Hatch who?” I ask, exasperated.
The grin blossoms into a full smile, “Cover your mouth when you sneeze!”
I giggle and shake my head. “That’s really bad, Blue eyes.”
His grin falters, for just a second and then he shrugs. “But you laughed. Now. Are you hungry?”
I don’t respond, and he doesn’t seem to care, going to work pulling out a plate of fried rice and chicken with vegetables and spreading it all out on the table. He moves easily, almost ignoring me, but I can feel the tiny glances he darts at me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, when the plate is in my hands and he’s back in his chair. The sleeves of his thermal have been shoved up, and I see stairs crisscrossing up his arm, and a brightly colored fish on his other, twisting through weeds and flowers.
“I’m eating dinner with you.” He says. Pauses, “Do you want me to go?”
That possibility looms in front of me. All night, alone in this room, and nothing. No memories or knowledge to keep me company.
The thought is terrifying and I shake my head. Because whoever he is, he’s a distraction. Someone to keep my mind off the emptiness.
“No,” I whisper. “Please stay.”

BEFORE & AFTER – Out July 30th!
Goodreads |
buy links available upon release

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Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.

Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Website | Street Team

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New Review and Excerpt – FOCUS ON ME by Megan Erickson

Megan Erickson has a new m/m release!! Check out my review, buy links and an exclusive excerpt from the book.

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Colin Hartman can now add college to his list of failures. On the coast-to-coast trek home from California, Colin stops at a gas station in the Nevada desert, and can’t help noticing the guy in tight jeans looking like he just stepped off a catwalk. When he realizes Catwalk is stranded, Colin offers a ride.

Riley only intended to take a short ride in Colin’s Jeep to the Grand Canyon. But one detour leads to another until they finally find themselves tumbling into bed together. However there are shadows in Riley’s eyes that hide a troubled past. And when those shadows threaten to bury the man whom Colin has fallen in love with, he vows to get Riley the help he needs. For once in his life, quitting isn’t an option…

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He’s light and he doesn’t deserve all the dark that’s in my head. I’m like a plant, though, and no matter what, I find myself leaning toward his light. I wonder if there’s ever an end to the hurt. —R

You know that feeling when you’re reading a book and you know that something isn’t right, that something bad will happen? And then the more you read, the more that feeling of dread weighs you down until you get so far into the book and you know with absolute certainty that something terrible is about to happen? And you hope and pray with all you have that someone will save the day? Yeah, that… This book…

Focus On Me definitely worked on a whole bunch of my emotions. I felt nervous, scared, sad, and happy. I laughed, cried and loved. Megan Erickson is undoubtedly a very talented writer and she sure knows how to write a captivating story. I do have to say, I didn’t love this book as much as I loved the previous one, Trust The Focus, though I loved the link between the two books!!

I didn’t feel the connection between Colin and Riley, and so that resulted in a few issues for me. Mainly not *feeling* the shortened names (Col) and endearments (baby), and the promises of “you’re it for me.” Colin’s moods and thoughts seemed a bit scattered as well; he started off cool, calm and collected, but then became moody and questioned himself and Riley, which ultimately had me questioning whether the relationship was what he even wanted. I can understand Riley’s temperamental behaviour, but I wanted Colin to be the strong one who held it all together (maybe unrealistic, but still…)

Aside from those things which weren’t huge problems in the grand scheme of things, I actually did love these characters. In fact, all of the characters. They were very well written and I loved their back stories and the paths that led them to meet each other. I loved trying to figure out Riley’s story, and I thought it was handled fantastically for such a sensitive topic.

I can’t wait to see what Ms. Erickson brings to this series next.

“You left,” I snarled. “I was coming back!” he yelled, then softly added, “I was always coming back.”

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*ARC received in exchange for an honest review*

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I polished off the rest of my sub and threw away our trash. Riley was humming along to music from a radio that sat in the corner of the Laundromat. I found a toothpick dispenser and put one in my mouth as the dryer buzzed.
I shoved a wheeled laundry cart under my dryer and began dumping in my dried clothes. Riley did the same, his singing growing louder. He’d thrown in some hip movements too, and I shook my head with a smile at his antics.
A club song came on with a pounding beat and Riley whooped. He latched onto a pole that was in the middle of the Laundromat and began to shimmy along its length like he was a stripper.
We were alone in the Laundromat, which was good, because Riley sure as hell wasn’t holding back. He worked the pole like a pro, and by this time I’d stopped pretending like I was folding. I stood with my hands on my hips and watched him.
He moved like a cat, all fluid and boneless. His expression was dreamy, like he was caught up in the music and happy to be that way. I wasn’t sure anything had ever made me feel that transcendent. And that was exactly how he looked.
His back was to the pole and he dipped down in a squat, separated his knees, and then rose back up. Now his hot eyes were on me, the brown showing a fiery ember beneath.
He beckoned to me with one finger, and I hesitated for a minute when I remembered his rejection. But this was harmless. We were just goofing off, playing around, and dancing to fun music in a Laundromat in the middle of nowhere.
And the best part of all of this was I didn’t see one damn demon in Riley’s eyes. Not one.
So I sauntered over to him, spitting out my toothpick as I went. He rolled his eyes at me, which made me grin.
I grabbed him around the waist, his slender body easily crashing into mine as I curled my bicep. He wrapped his arms around my neck and continued to swivel his hips. I made a scrunched face and strummed a little air guitar on his back, and he arched his neck and laughed.
I loved how carefree he looked, his hair in disarray from dancing. He was only wearing a plain T-shirt now and an older pair of jeans since his good ones were all in the wash.
And we danced. As we swayed, I didn’t even have to guess what he’d do next. Our bodies fit like a puzzle, our rhythms in sync as we moved to the beat.
Everything about this felt right, and I wondered what had happened to me—that I was somehow falling for this man who looked like he’d stepped off of a catwalk, who had demons and sad eyes and kissed like an angel.
Maybe it was the caretaker gene that Jess always talked about, because I wanted to hold Riley like this forever. I wanted to dance with him while doing laundry and joke about delis with mounted animal heads.
It was reckless and a little stupid but I’d spend my last dime to follow this guy around the country. Maybe I could do this—for once in my life, succeed at something. And if that was taking care of Riley while he got rid of his demons, then so be it.
The song ended and a slower one filtered through the speakers. I heard a piano and some kind of stringed instrument like a violin. The singer’s voice was melancholy and Riley’s mood seemed to sober right with it. It was like he felt the music internally as he clung to me and swayed in my arms, all traces of the earlier joy gone.
I rubbed my hand up and down his back, feeling the knobs of his spine through his T-shirt. I was glad I’d bought that pack of cookies at the deli because I might have to force-feed Riley later.
But now I enjoyed the warmth of his body against mine as he rocked back and forth to the music. This was okay, this dancing. It didn’t have to lead to more. It felt good to want him, to enjoy this moment, knowing it wouldn’t progress further. He’d made his feelings clear.
His breath was hot on my neck, and I could feel his erection hard against my thigh. He shook slightly, and his fingernails dug through my thin T-shirt.
He turned his head, and my lips brushed the hair at his temple as his lips brushed my neck, so softly, so slowly, but enough to make me close my eyes. Enough to make me groan. Enough to make my hard cock throb.
I kept my mouth shut as those soft lips coasted over the front of my throat, then up to the lobe of my ear. His hand rose from my shoulder to cup my neck, and he pressed even closer, aligning our bodies. “In another life, Col, I-I think it could be you. I swear.”
That hurt. That hurt a lot, each word like arrows into every sensitive bit of flesh. I stepped back, separating our bodies. Riley’s hands dropped lifelessly to his side. I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged a little, the pain taking the focus off of where Riley had bled me. He stared at me, biting his lip, and his hand clenched his thigh. This felt too soon. I’d only known Riley for less than a week, and I barely knew anything about him. But he made me ache. There was something about him that called to me. So I swallowed my pride and I threw out the only parting shot I had. “I guess our timing is off, then, because I think it could be you, too. In this life.”
I shoved the rest of my clothes in my bag, not giving a shit if they were folded, and headed toward the front door. “Get your clothes and let’s head out,” I called over my shoulder.
I didn’t look back as I pushed the Laundromat door open and heard it slam shut behind me.

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TRUST THE FOCUS – Out Now!
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FOCUS ON ME – Out Now!
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New Review – TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee

With the release of Go Set A Watchman by Harper Lee, I knew I finally had to see for myself why this author and this series had created such a stir. And it’s probably the best decision I ever made regarding books. Check out my review of To Kill A Mockingbird, and if you haven’t read it yet, then please do!!

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The unforgettable novel of a childhood in a sleepy Southern town and the crisis of conscience that rocked it, To Kill A Mockingbird became both an instant bestseller and a critical success when it was first published in 1960. It went on to win the Pulitzer Prize in 1961 and was later made into an Academy Award-winning film, also a classic.

Compassionate, dramatic, and deeply moving, To Kill A Mockingbird takes readers to the roots of human behavior – to innocence and experience, kindness and cruelty, love and hatred, humor and pathos. Now with over 18 million copies in print and translated into ten languages, this regional story by a young Alabama woman claims universal appeal. Harper Lee always considered her book to be a simple love story. Today it is regarded as a masterpiece of American literature.

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“Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

This weekend I took myself out of my comfort zone and I read a book that I never would have read before, had I not been wanting to try something new. In doing so, I found I had a passion for more of the classics that I never gave a second glance; a love of the ageing character, Atticus Finch; and an appreciation for an author whom I had never really thought anything about before reading her book.

Told from the witty and honest narrative of a young girl wise beyond her years, I never once felt put off or felt my enjoyment hindered by Scout’s age; instead, I was endeared towards her and her frank and intuitive view on her town and the people within it.

In fact, I think had the story been told by an adult, I don’t think it would have worked quite as well. As pointed out in the book, sometimes, it takes a child’s perspective to really get the point across, and I think Scout not only got the point across, but really drilled it home.

Having spent the last three years almost exclusively reading contemporary romance, To Kill A Mockingbird has shown me why the classics really are classics, and why they will never go out of style. My eyes have been opened to a whole new world of characters and stories that I cannot wait to become acquainted with, and it all started with the undoubtedly talented Harper Lee.

To Kill A Mockingbird is a book that everybody–no matter of age, sex, race, or religion–should read, if not for the simple fact that it is a truly fantastic piece of literary fiction, then for the profound message it delivers in such a way that it ensures it will never be forgotten.

A book I am sure to never grow old of, and an instant favourite.

“Atticus, he was real nice.”

“Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them.”

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TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD – Out Now!
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GO SET A WATCHMAN – Out Now!
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Having written several long stories, Harper Lee located an agent in November 1956. The following month at the East 50th townhouse of her friends Michael Brown and Joy Williams Brown, she received a gift of a year’s wages with a note: “You have one year off from your job to write whatever you please. Merry Christmas.”

Within a year, she had a first draft. Working with J. B. Lippincott & Co. editor Tay Hohoff, she completed To Kill a Mockingbird in the summer of 1959. Published July 11, 1960, the novel was an immediate bestseller and won great critical acclaim, including the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1961. It remains a bestseller with more than 30 million copies in print. In 1999, it was voted “Best Novel of the Century” in a poll by the Library Journal.

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Double Review and Giveaway – Blog Tour: EDGE OF THE FALLS and CHASING THE WIND by Nazarea Andrews

When I heard that Nazarea Andrews was releasing the second book in her series that started in 2013, I knew I needed to do some catching up. For me, that means I’ve spent the last two days reading two fantastic books. For you, that means I have two new reviews and recommendations for you, along with a giveaway!

FIRST UP…

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In a world torn apart by science and war, an outcast finds love with a beast.

Sabah has lived outside the Commission’s control her entire life. But as she approaches the age of Majority, her guardian pushes her to make a choice: life in the wild with a boy she barely knows, or a place in the nearby City with Berg, the boy she’s known since childhood.

But when Arjun, a monster created by scientists, saves her life, everything Sabah knows begins to change. Hidden away from her life and family, Sabah finds herself trusting the beast when he tells her secrets and more—falling in love with a creature she’s spent a lifetime fearing.

But in a world where control is everything, and life is something you fight for—can a love that defies society survive?

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“She was wrong,” Kaida says at last. “Who was?” Cedric asks, confused. “The girl in the story. She thought he didn’t love her. That he’d forget,” she looks at me, her eyes bright, challenging. “But he wanted her safe. He did love her— enough to send her where he thought she would be safest.”

This book released way back in 2013, so why it has taken me this long to read it, I have no idea!! I’m just glad the release of the second book in the After The Fall series meant that I finally picked up Edge Of The Falls, because I could not put it down!

One sitting was all it took to completely devour this book and fall once again in love with a world created by this talented author. There’s a reason that Nazarea Andrews is one of my Ultimate Authors, and you only have to start any one of her books to realise why.

Edge Of The Falls was soooo good! Though the terms for certain things initially had me a little confused (a glossary at the beginning of the book would have been much appreciated) the storyline itself was fantastic, and the writing was as usual for this author, flawless.

I loved the story surrounding Sabah, the children and the Mistress; the Tribes; Berg and the City; Arjun and the Ban-Wolves (though admittedly, I really struggled to see Arjun as a book boyfriend with the way he was described, even though I did love him as a character–yes, I am completely shallow when it comes to my BBFs), and all the twists and turns that linked characters together.

Though After The Fall is a series, Sabah’s story ultimately begins and ends in Edge Of The Falls, with the second book, Chasing The Wind, focusing on secondary characters, with the backstory continuing throughout. And FYI, it’s just as fantastic!

“You showed me that impossible stories could be true.”

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NEXT UP…

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Kaida grew up in two worlds–a child in the Manor raised by Sabah before she was granted Citzenship. But the only place she has ever felt like she’s belonged is with Cedric and Guin, the boys she grew up with.

When Cedric’s involvement in a rebel faction goes wrong, the Commission exiles her and holds Guin hostage. Now, she’s on her own for the first time, and searching for the sister who left her behind and a princess who was stolen from the City–and then she stumbles across a face from the past.

Hawke has been an outcast since his Tribe died. When he finds Sabah’s sister on the road, he agrees to help her. But as they search the wilds and grow closer, his disdain for her is slowly replaced by a deep attraction for the girl who faces every challenge so bravely.

And as the City’s deadline dwindles, and the boy she loves hangs in the balance, Hawke is left to wonder if he is protecting her, or if he’s the biggest threat she will face.

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You know you’re on to a winner when you completely lose yourself in two books in just wo days, and Nazarea Andrew’s series, After The Fall, is going for gold! All my responsibilities went out the window as soon as picked up Chasing The Wind.

Having loved Hawke when we (briefly) met him in Edge Of The Falls, I was really excited to see more from him in this book, and unlike with Arjun, I had no problem with seeing the old Rover’s Son as a book boyfriend. In fact, out of all Nazarea’s heroes, Hawke comes a very close second to Finn, and Finn is one of my favourite BBF’s, period!

I loved Kaida and Hawke, but I also loved the part that Cedric and Guin played, and how something that appeared so complicated was actually so easy. I both loved and hated the emotions flying at one point (yes, there were tears!) and I loved how eerything came together.

Due to me reading an unedited ARC of this book, the following may have changed before the final version published, but one character was said to have died, and then later on in the book was alive. But other than that, this was once again a book that I couldn’t fault. I loved it!!

How everyone is not shouting from the rooftop about this versitile author, I have no idea, but what I do know is that you need to read this series.

“It’s as free as life gets in this world, Kaida. Don’t you ever want to be free?”

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*ARC received in exchange for an honest review*

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EDGE OF THE FALLS – Out Now!
Goodreads | UK eBook | US eBook

CHASING THE WIND – Out Now!
Goodreads | UK eBook | US eBook

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Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.

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There’s a $50 Amazon gift card up for grabs!! To enter, just click the giveaway tab below.

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Cover Reveal – TANGLED BOND by Emma Hart

If you havn’t read Twisted Bond yet, then WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??? I loved this book HARDCORE and now I have the cover and synopsis of book #2, Tangled Bond! Can you sense me SQUEEing?? I’m so excited for this book!!!

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One date with the sexier-than-sin Detective Drake Nash. Simple.

Until you take into account that my brother finally proposed to his girlfriend, so Nonna is on a warpath—and the crazy old bat has Cupid by the balls.

The upcoming mayoral elections has everyone running on full speed, and while I couldn’t give any less craps about the corrupt Holly Woods mayor’s office, a dead body in the middle of a campaign speech has me thrown right into the middle of it. The victim is close to the mayor, but all he cares about is minimizing the damage to his campaign, so he hires me to work alongside Drake to close the case as quickly as possible.

Bad news for our tentative relationship.

We disagree far more than we agree, but being at loggerheads won’t get this murder solved… Or deal with the arrival of someone from his past.

The mysteries behind the murder aren’t the only things unraveling, and despite being knee-deep in lies and corruption and bonds so tangled they’re almost indecipherable, I have to figure out if I’m willing to fight for Drake the way I do justice…

Or if he’ll be my one who gets away.

TWISTED BOND – Out Now!
Goodreads | UK eBook | US eBook

TANGLED BOND – Out July 30th!
Goodreads |
buy links available upon release

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By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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Cover Reveal and Excerpt – BEFORE & AFTER by Nazarea Andrews

Nazarea Andrews has a new book releasing!!!!! I love, love, LOVE this author so I am very excited to read this book.

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Rike and Peyton fell in love in college.

A boy from the wrong side of the tracks, covered in ink and crooning in a bar is the last person a straight laced girl with a art major should fall for, but his rough edges made her jagged, alive, shaving away the coddled southern princess and revealing a soul wild and brilliant.
They fell in love, despite her family and his past and all the reasons why it wouldn’t work–and with their best friends, they made a life. Everyone was supposed to live happily ever after.
They, more than anyone, knows that life doesn’t go according to plan.
Rike and Peyton fell in love in college. A boy with a guitar, and a poet’s heart, and a girl with freckles dusted over her nose, a perfect fucking fairy tale. But what happens when the fairy tale doesn’t fall apart–but is forgotten?

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“Your girl was late,” Scotty rasps as we land on two stools at the bar. It’s late and the crowd of sorority girls has thinned to almost nothing, although a pair are nursing Cosmos and watching us speculatively.
Surprisingly, Scot’s ignored them completely.
“Need anything, boys?” Manda asks as she sways past, giving Scotty a flirty smile. He grins at her, letting his gaze sweep over her.
My best friend is a fucking slut. But with Manda, it’s all flirting and no action. She’d take him up on it—she’s made that very clear. But Scot doesn’t fuck where he works, and Barries has been too good for us to risk screwing it up for a quick fuck.
Which is good, because I’d have to kick his ass if he touched her. She might be a little too friendly and a little desperate, but she’s a cute kid and I like her.
“Bourbon, Manda,” he says and she glances at me questioningly. I nod and she pours the drinks. Scotty glances at me. “What are you waiting on?”
I shrug and grit my teeth. Scotty twists and gives her a look over his shoulder. “Fine. Stay here and keep Manda company. I’m going to introduce myself to your siren.”
I jerks him back by the collar of his shirt before he can take more than two steps and throw him back against the bar. “Back the fuck off, Scott.” I growl.
He grins, a challenge and a taunt in that expression. “Then make your move, Rike.”
I snatch the bourbon from Manda and take a deep breath before walking to her table.
And wait.
For a long. Fucking. Time.
It takes almost a full minute for her to look up, almost long enough for my courage to fail. I’m almost ready to retreat when she blinks and looks up at me, her eyes widening a little as they find mine. She looks startled, and sleepy, and as gorgeous as she looked at a distance, is nothing compared to how fucking flawless she is this close.
There are freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and dusted over her nose.
I swallow a groan as she licks her lips and gives me a tentative smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say, and then go blank.
Because in none of my fantasies did I ever consider we’d actually ever get to this point. And the smirks and smooth lines won’t work—not on her.
“What do you call a group of unorganized cats?” I ask and her eyes cloud, confused.
She gives me a pretty frown and I grin, “A cat-astrophe.”
For a second, all either of us do is stare, and then she giggles. “That is literally the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
I grin, “So you want me to leave?”
Laughter dances in her eyes. “Have a seat, jokes.”

BEFORE & AFTER – Out July 30th!
Goodreads |
buy links available upon release

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Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.

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Cover Reveal and Pre-Order- SECRETS DON’T KEEP by Elora Ramirez

Not enough people know about this author; her books overflow with deep-rooted emotion. Her next book releases August 10th and I have the cover, synopsis, an excerpt and pre-order below, plus, a giveaway!

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My name is Kera Collins, and I would do anything for a golden nod.

At first glance, my life appears perfect: the best friends, the best school, the attention of Dex Albright, the deliciously irresistible grandson to the Headmaster. All I need is the prestige behind La Boheme, an elite secret society formed within the walls of my school, and my life would be complete. Once I’m in, I’ll be the one with all of the secrets.

It’s just…no one told me these secrets could kill.

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“Tell me again about cherry trees and spring time and eating sunbeams.” I whisper in his ear.
“Why should sunbeams get all the fun?” He growls and I laugh quietly.
Both of my hands are on either side of his face. I’m gripping the soft area above his neck. Our tongues meet and I press myself against him, the sparrow inside my chest turning into a phoenix, lit and ready. I wrap one leg around his hip and position myself against the shelf, pulling away just enough to look in his eyes. I want to see the clouded look that takes over when he’s lost in the feel of me. His hands grab me and I gasp.
This is much, much better than Neruda.
We’re a tangled piece of hormones, begging for some type of release.
And then —
We’re crashing against the floor, Dex covering my mouth with his hand. I start to claw at his arm because what the hell?
He doesn’t waste any time. Leaning forward to where his lips begin to tickle the edges of my ear, he whispers.
“Someone’s here.”
I press my hands against his chest, pushing him back so I can look him in the eyes.
“What do you mean someone’s here,” I hiss.
And then I hear it. Or…them, actually. Soft footsteps. My eyes widen and Dex places his finger on my lips. Despite the severity of the situation, I have a strange desire to bite it.
Or lick it. He sees my gaze shift downward and he hides a smile.
“Behave,” he mouths.
I shrug again, my shoulder scraping against the wooden floor. I stretch my neck and try to get a look at who could possibly be in the library at this hour.
“Kera?”
I jerk my head back toward Dex, and he looks at me in confusion. My heart thuds against my chest. I grab his wrist and pull his finger away from my lips.
“Season?”
Dex opens his mouth like he’s about to say something and I put my hand up to quiet him. In a heap of arms and legs, I try and make my way to a standing position but my best friend finds me bending over, Dex kneeling in front of me with his bow tie akimbo around his neck.
“Kera?”
I swallow and turn around, my face breaking into a smile. I’m thinking of excuses. I’m thinking of how I can explain the tête-à-tête she seems to have interrupted. I’m thinking…my eyes find hers and I gasp.
Holy shit.
She’s been crying. Her eyes, normally a bottomless shade of crystallized green, blink away new tears. I walk over to her, rearranging my dress with each step.
“Ohmigod. Season. What happened?” I reach for her but she twists away. Her arms and legs are covered in scratches and twigs keep falling out of her burgundy curls. She moves to hide her arms and looks away for a brief moment before catching Dex’s gaze and bouncing to me.
She’s skittish, and her eyes — they’ve lost all glimmer of Season.
A weight settles on my chest and I fight to stand still, to not turn and run. This is not life. This is not supposed to happen. Not here. Not Season. I brush away the silence between us, willing her to look at me. I reach for her again and she startles, putting her hand up in front as a defense. She blinks and focuses on me, her eyes feral.
“I knew you’d be here. I knew — I got your text an-and they said you would…”
“S, what’s going on? Why — what are you doing here? Did something happen?” I wrinkle my brow and turn to find Dex walking toward us, his bowtie now perfectly positioned against his neck. He’s working on his cufflinks and staring at Season with his mouth all twisted. I can’t tell if he’s bothered by the interruption or by Season’s condition.
She coughs and whimpers and I shoot her a look.
“Season…”
“It’s Sebastian.” She wipes at her cheeks with her hands, her fingers reaching for each other in a form of desperation.
Anger vibrates against me but deeper than that, there’s a fear. A cold-blooded fear I can’t explain. Something isn’t right and I don’t know how to fix it and my best friend is standing in front of me like she’s been turned inside out and back again. Black spots fill my vision and then grow clear.
“What happened. Where’s Sebastian?” I move closer and she grabs my arm. I stop and look at her. She’s shaking her head.
“You know —.” Her words stumble over each other and it’s enough for me to freeze in place. I turn to look at her and she closes her eyes and takes a breath.
“We were in the woods. They found us. Th-they took him.”
“Who took him?” Dex steps closer, his face now the picture of concern. “Wait. Did you say someone told you we would be here?”
The muscles in his cheek twitch. I reach for his hand.
There are moments in life where we can spot the change coming. Whether it’s intuition or cycles or whatever, these are the seconds and minutes that turn into catalysts. Once they pass, life is forever categorized as Before and After.
This is what I feel hovering above us, waiting to descend and take over. I close my eyes and wait and wonder if I can keep it from happening.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
If I can wish hard enough, maybe we can go back to where I’m leaning against the shelves, Dex pressing up against me. Maybe even before that — back to when I first saw him, standing with the lacrosse team the day I moved into Ivy Hall. I let go of Dex’s hand and clutch at the bottom of my dress and feel myself waver. Dex grabs my elbow.
I open my eyes and find Season looking at me, tears rushing down her cheeks.
“La Boheme.” she whispers. “They’re the ones who took Sebastian.”

SECRETS DON’T KEEP – Out August 10th!
Goodreads | UK eBook | US eBook

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Elora Ramirez lives in Austin, Texas with her chef-husband. At the age of four, she taught herself how to read and write, cutting her teeth on books like Dr. Seuss and writing anywhere she could find the space–including her Fisher Price kitchen set, the pages of picture books and Highlights Magazine. Since then, she’s grown to love the way words feel as they swell within her bones. Writing holy and broken is her calling, and pushing back the darkness and pursuing beauty through story is her purpose. She embraces the power of story and teaches women from all parts of the world how to embrace theirs. She has a knack of calling things out , the truth and the detail, the subversive threads that make a life a story. She loves hip-hop, wishes she lived by the beach and cannot write without copious amounts of coffee, chocolate, music, and her husband’s lavender liqueur.

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Follow the giveaway link below for your chance to win a $20 Amazon Gift Card!!

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New Review – GREY by EL James

Forget about laters, baby. Grey is live now!

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See the world of Fifty Shades of Grey anew through the eyes of Christian Grey.

In Christian’s own words, and through his thoughts, reflections, and dreams, E L James offers a fresh perspective on the love story that has enthralled millions of readers around the world.
Christian Grey exercises control in all things; his world is neat, disciplined, and utterly empty—until the day that Anastasia Steele falls into his office, in a tangle of shapely limbs and tumbling brown hair. He tries to forget her, but instead is swept up in a storm of emotion he cannot comprehend and cannot resist. Unlike any woman he has known before, shy, unworldly Ana seems to see right through him—past the business prodigy and the penthouse lifestyle to Christian’s cold, wounded heart.

Will being with Ana dispel the horrors of his childhood that haunt Christian every night? Or will his dark sexual desires, his compulsion to control, and the self-loathing that fills his soul drive this girl away and destroy the fragile hope she offers him?

This book is intended for mature audiences.

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She’s oil on my troubled, deep, dark waters.

For years, myself and my fellow Fifty Fanatics have begged the talented EL James for more from the sexy, dominant, CEO, Christian Grey, since we were mercilessly teased with part of his POV in the end of Fifty Shades Freed, and to celebrate the birthday of my favourite fictional character–the ultimate book boyfriend–we now have it.

I’ve read FSOG so many times, and I’ve spoken about it with friends and readers even more! We talk about our favourite scenes and it’s always ones that hold a lot of emotion or are intensely sexy, but while reading Grey, I realised that there’s a scene that often gets looked over, but I have never read it without the biggest grin and the fullest heart. And that’s the night they spend together in Christian’s hotel in Georgia. And all they do is…talk. But oh how my heart soars!

I didn’t realise until Grey, just how much of a lonely life Christian led before Ana. Yes, he had staff and family, but most of his conversations and interactions were work related. It wasn’t until Ana that Christian really began to live, never mind feel. No wonder he stalked her!

He came across as robotic as times, though mainly towards the beginning of the book, which could have been purposeful. I guess his life was robotic before it was turned upside down by the innocent Miss Steele.

Grey has everything we wanted in Christian’s POV. The dinner with Mrs Robinson (though short), more about Leila and the “situation”. A session with Flynn. Work life. And so many thoughts and feelings. It made me appreciate Christian and Ana’s story even more now that I’ve seen things through his eyes.

Once again, I’m now begging this author for more. I don’t think it’s possible to ever have enough when it comes to Mr Grey.

I close my eyes, fighting the disquieting sensation that surges and fills my chest once more. It’s like homesickness and a homecoming rolled into one…and it’s terrifying.

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FIFTY SHADES OF GREY – Out Now!
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FIFTY SHADES DARKER – Out Now!
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FIFTY SHADES FREED – Out Now!
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GREY – Out Now!
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FIFTY SHADES TRILOGY BOXSET – Out Now!
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Hello and welcome. I’m the author of the adult romance Fifty Shades trilogy, the first instalment (British spelling) of which was published in May 2011. I’ve been delighted and honoured by the positive response from readers the world over, and I’m looking forward to bringing you some new love stories I’ve got planned.

With love and thanks
E L James

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New Review – TWISTED BOND by Emma Hart

Fresh new book from Emma Hart. It’s a must read!!

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I’m an Italian-Texan woman in a family full of cops. I’m passionate and shoot before I think. You only f*ck with me if you’re stupid.

Photograph cheating spouses. Hand over the evidence. Cash my check.
That was my plan when I returned home to Holly Woods, Texas, and became a private investigator.
Finding the dead body in my dumpster? Yeah… Given the choice, I think I would have opted out of that little discovery, especially since all three of my brothers are cops. And my Italian grandmother is sure the reason I’m single is because of my job.
Of course, my connection to the victim is entirely coincidental. Until I’m hired by her husband to investigate her murder and shoved bang-smack into the path of Detective Drake Nash. My nemesis, a persistent pain in my ass, and one hell of a sexy son of a bitch.
Shame he still holds a grudge from that time I shot him in the foot twelve years ago, or we could have something. In another life.
So now all I have to do is avoid my nonna’s blind dates, try not to blackmail my brothers into giving me confidential police files, and absolutely do not point my gun at Drake Nash. Or kiss him. Or jump his bones.
All while I hunt down the killer.
Sounds totally simple—until a second body proves that sometimes things that start as coincidences don’t always end up that way…

(Twisted Bond is book one of the Holly Woods Files series and while it does not end in a cliffhanger, it is not a standalone.)

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Emma Hart has taken on yet another genre with her brand new mystery/suspense series, the Holly Woods Files. Yes, Noelle Bond has the usual sass, and yes, Drake Nash is irresistible, but Twisted Bond is unlike anything Emma has written before.

Again, yes, there is romance but that’s more of a slow burning, background thing. The main focus of the book is very much the mystery surrounding the death of a local girl, and it follows Noelle as she tries to find her killer, all while trying to manage her match-making Nonna.

This book kind of drove me a bit insane. But in the very best way! You see, when it comes to twists, I can usually spot them a mile off. It’s my “thing.” But with Twisted Bond, I could not figure it out! With every piece of new information, I was no closer to finding the answers I was desperate to know!

This book just had me hooked! From page one to the very end, I was intrigued, addicted, and hanging on every written word. Emma Hart continues to find new ways in which to hook her readers, and that is why she is one of the best, most versatile authors around.

Hey, he’s handsome. Catholic. Italian. It could be worse.

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*ARC received in exchange for an honest review*

TWISTED BOND – Out Now!
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By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to a terrible two year old and growing bump, due September 2013. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of juice and writes books.
She likes to write about magic, kisses and whatever else she can fit into the story. Sarcastic, witty characters are a must. As are hot guys. Emma is currently working too many books to even count – including Playing for Keeps, the companion book to the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novel, The Love Game. She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to when all the ideas come to life.

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