Miss Riki

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13 by Rhonda James Release Launch

Today we have the release day blitz of 13 by Rhonda James! We are so excited to share this sexy new romance with you! Check it out and grab your copy today!

 

Title: 13

Author: Rhonda James

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

About 13:

“Fake it till you make it.”

 

A notion I once considered utterly ridiculous. Until one crazy night with a mysterious man resulted in a social media frenzy that had the entire entertainment industry talking.

 

Seems a fake marriage was just what my career needed to make Hollywood come knocking.

 

Convincing him to continue the charade was almost too easy. The chemistry between us made it impossible to keep my hands to myself. But it was all just pretend, right? Love was never in the script.

 

That is, until he re-wrote it.

 

13 Reasons You Should Stay:

 

  1. I’m crazy about you
  2. I make you laugh
  3. You totally dig me

 

Get Your Copy:

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Exclusive Excerpt:

The first thing I noticed were his eyes. Bottle green with the tiniest flecks of copper scattered throughout, and when the light hit them just right, those flecks sparkled in the most intriguing way. His shaggy caramel-blond hair stuck up in all directions, as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day, and the longer I stared, the more I found myself wanting to do the same thing. Tattoos circled both of his wrists, and his ears were pierced and adorned in black onyx. He had a smile that could simultaneously melt your heart and panties. Everything about him screamed male model, and if he wasn’t, then he sure as hell should be. He was that gorgeous. The bar was packed, and he was seated close. So close his muscular thigh pressed tightly against mine, making it impossible to ignore his presence. Not that I wanted to or anything.

By the time I finished examining him, I looked up and found his pouty lips were puckered as if he was deep in thought. Either that or he was thinking about kissing me. Yeah, I knew we hadn’t been formally introduced, but I’d definitely consider kissing those lips. His gaze was intense, and it roamed my entire body, slowly, as if he were cataloging every detail for later when he was alone and naked in the shower. The thought of him naked, alone or otherwise, excited me.

“No one special.” I fidgeted in my seat. “Old boyfriend.”

“If you ask me, he’s a dumbass for letting you get away. You’re much prettier than candy.”

Another blush heated my cheeks as I shook my head and responded, if only to keep him talking, “Ahh, but you haven’t seen this particular piece of candy.”

“Don’t need to. He gave you up. In my book, that’s reason enough to achieve asshole status.” He winked and tipped his glass to mine. “But, thanks to his assholery, you’re here with me. So… to assholes.”

Okay. He was definitely flirting.

 

 

 

About Rhonda:

Rhonda is an Amazon bestselling romance author who strives to create a book boyfriend for all her readers. She’s married and lives in Michigan with her family. In her spare time you can find her talking to readers, getting lost in a new book, or just spending time with her family.

 

Connect with Rhonda:

 

Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Pinterest | Youtube | Instagram | Website

 

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ONE BABY DADDY Excerpt Reveal

 

 

About ONE BABY DADDY:

 

“What are you doing now that your team is out of the running for the Stanley Cup?”

Forget.

I need to forget. I need an escape.

Only one person isn’t falling for my reputation as the NHL’s Golden Boy; she captured my attention the minute she called me out for snooping through my best friend’s house. She didn’t want to hear my reason–she only wanted to playfully give me a hard time.

Adalyn is bold, sassy–and the perfect escape.

She’s everywhere. In town and in my dreams, and suddenly I need to spend every waking moment with her.

And I do, making this summer the best off-season I’ve ever had.

But in the midst of getting lost in Adalyn, what I don’t expect is to get her pregnant.

And what I definitely don’t expect is having to fight for her affection.

 

 

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Excerpt from ONE BABY DADDY:

 

Tentative at first, we explore, our lips light, our mouths not quite nipping, but not fusing together either.

We probe, we search, we delve into each other.

Her hands to my face.

My fingers tangling in her wavy brown curls.

Mouths open.

A gasp.

A moan.

A tightened grip.

The lightest touch of tongues.

Scooting closer, she wraps her legs around the back of mine, linking them together.

Tangling, molding, becoming one, the sweet taste of her mouth on mine . . . I’m lost.

Falling and falling fast, our kiss so deep, so intense with each thrust of our tongues, with each mingling of our lips, with every intake of desperate breath.

Tender, the way she moves her lips across mine.

Shaky, the way her hands tentatively explore the crevasses and divots of my broad and built chest.

Fearful . . . of the unknown, of what this means.

But so goddamn electrifying because the craving I’ve harbored for this woman is finally being sated.

Eyes closed, hands lingering, I slowly pull away and rest my forehead on Adalyn’s trying to catch my breath, taking a second to steady the jittery, wobbly feeling in my legs.

“Wow,” I mumble. “That was—”

“Unforgettable,” she finishes for me, her nose rubbing against mine.

Exhaling, I say, “Yeah, it was.”

My hands venture to her sides, memorizing every contour of her body in their path. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Her eyes light up and she hops down from the counter, taking my hand in hers in the process. “This way.” She practically skips down the hallway, light and giddy.

The dark hallway leads to another white, clean, and crisp bedroom. Smooth lines, monotone colors of whites and creams, with one light blue throw pillow on her plush white bed that looks like a cloud floating in the middle of heaven.

Angling in my direction, she reaches for the hem of her dress, but I stop her, gripping her shoulders and standing her upright. Confusion laces her eyes and I take no time in easing that confusion.

“I want to take this slow, Adalyn.” I let out an unsteady breath. “That kiss back there, fuck . . .” I press a hand through my hair. “That rocked my goddamn world.”

Shyly, she peeks up at me through her eyelashes. “It rocked my world too.”

Unable to keep my hands off her for too long, I tip her chin up and press my lips against hers, my mouth smoothing along hers, lush and delicious, just as I expected. She sighs into me, holding on to my waist. I press my tongue against hers again, loving how she gives as much as I take.

Slowing down, my lips brush hers, the fiery passion we have for each other simmering like a pot ready to boil, but never getting hot enough.

I don’t want it to get too hot. Not right now.

I need to know more about her. I want more time with her. I don’t want to jump into this—into a physical relationship—when I know there is so much more I can share with this woman.

There is time for this connection to go beyond the physical, but for now, I need to not get wrapped up in the sensation of her being so close to me and rather seduce her mind instead. I. Want. Her. I want what Calder and Rachel have. I want the depth of trust and friendship I’ve seen in my parents’ marriage . . . How is that possible so soon? God, I want inside her, but I think I need inside her heart more than in her body.

Yes, I’m certifiable.

Completely.

“Can we agree on something?”

“Depends on what it is.” Her fingers trace up and down my spine.

Tracing her pattern, matching it with my fingers, I say, “Can we both acknowledge this unimaginable pull between us? Can we admit to ourselves that the physical is there, that we both would have no problem taking this relationship to the bed?”

“Easily,” she breathes out heavily, her fingers playing with the hem of my shirt.

“Can we also agree to wait?”

Sighing heavily, she rests her head against my chest, knocking it a few times with her forehead. “You’re killing me, Hayden.”

“I know but there have been too many times where the physical has taken the lead in developing a relationship and the communication has lacked. I don’t want that with you.”

“I can understand that.” She bites her bottom lip, her thoughts running a mile a minute in that pretty head of hers. “But what about . . . you know . . . when you have to leave, go back to Philly?”

I nod. “This is for then. So when I do go back, we’ll be okay. Because I can see a future with you, Adalyn, and that’s why I want to build something solid with you, something that can last. I want that chance. With you.”

“So when you return to Philly, you want to stay in contact with me?”

“Fuck yes, I do. And I’m going to have you sitting front and center at as many games as you can get to, especially since I’m trying to make hockey your favorite sport.”

“I don’t know.” She smiles. “That’s going to be one hell of a task to accomplish. Think you can handle it?”

“I know I can.” I press a quick kiss against her lips and then slap her ass, making her squeal. With a wink, I say, “Go get changed for bed, we have some making out to do.”

“Making out?” she asks, adding in a lift of that well-defined eyebrow of hers.

Acting stern and pointing my finger at her, I say, “Just making out. If you start with your wandering hands, I’m going to jet out of here, taking my body warmth with me.”

“That’s just cruel.”

“Then keep it in your pants, Adalyn.” Smiling wickedly, I go to the living room to grab my overnight bag, reprimanding myself with the same warning.

Keep it in your pants, Holmes.

For the love of God, keep it in your pants.

 

 

 

About Meghan Quinn:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

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EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS Book Review & Excerpt Tour

 

From Meg Little Reilly, comes a stunning thriller that will keep readers up turning pages long into the night, EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS! Grab your copy of EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS today!

 

CAUGHT IN THE BACKWASH, THEY HAVE LOST CONTROL OF THEIR LIVES…

For fans of Megan Abbott and Chris Bohjalian comes a novel of moral complexity about friends who must choose between self-preservation and doing the right thing in the wake of a fatal boating accident. Set in the moody off-season of Martha’s Vineyard, Everything That Follows is a plunge into the dark waters of secrets and flexible morals. The truth becomes whatever we say it is…

Around midnight, three friends take their partying from bar to boat on a misty fall evening. Just as the weather deteriorates, one of them suddenly and confusingly goes overboard. Is it an accident? The result of an unwanted advance? His body disappears quickly, silently, into the dark water. The circumstances are murky, but what is clear is that the other two need to notify the authorities. Minutes become hours become days as they hesitate, caught up in their guilt and hope that their friend has somehow made it safely to shore. As valuable time passes, they find themselves deep in a moral morass with huge implications as they struggle to move forward and live with their dark secret.

Grab your copy of EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS here!

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iBooks | Kobo | IndieBound | Audible

 ***

Miss Riki’s Review:

When three people go out on a boat and only two come back, there are bound to be questions. This tightly woven mystery is fraught with tension and an underlying thread of paranoia that will thrill suspense lovers and thriller junkies alike. I just love a book that questions the ultimate morality of its characters, and EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS does it SO well. With each chapter you are left wondering who is good and just, and who might be not quite telling the truth. with each character panicking along the way, and more and more truths uncovered, this quick page turner kept me guessing and engaged all the way through. I think this book would make an excellent book club read, since so many questions come up along the way. It would be great fodder for discussion and debate! If you’re looking for an eerie thriller with a great cast of characters, you’ll love this book!

***

 

 

Excerpt from EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS:

Hunter kissed Ashley’s naked legs, knees and thighs, working his way up her body and through his A-game stuff. But she intercepted his advances with her own moves and eventually he was out of his head and totally in the act. They were both drunk, but it didn’t feel like drunk sex in the out-of-body way he usually settled for. She was energized and athletic, a real go-getter. It was almost comical. She insisted on reading the expiration date of the condom, which struck him as hilarious. Ashley was above him, and then below. It was exhausting, but also a relief to have someone really running the show. He was happy to follow.

Ten minutes later, the entire episode concluded in a conventional but thoroughly satisfying missionary position.

And it was exactly three seconds after ejaculation that Hunter remembered all the horrible things he’d been trying to forget. The investigation of Kyle’s death was still open. The boat was still banging against the dock posts. This little adventure had changed nothing. Hunter’s body was calm but his mind wasted no time getting back to its baseline of panic. He needed a drink. He needed Ashley to leave so he could pour himself something tall. He liked her and hoped for an encore one day, but wanted her to get the fuck out at that moment.

“That was fun. I suppose I should go,” she said, moving not a muscle in her body. She was splayed out under the down comforter with her eyes closed.

Hunter got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. “Yeah, it was fun. Can I call you again?”

If she answered, he didn’t hear her before the bathroom door closed. He peed and splashed water on his face. When he returned to the room, Ashley was halfway dressed, watching local news on a small TV that sat on a dresser.

“Why do they think he was swimming in Katama Bay?” she said, one sock in hand at the edge of the bed.

“What?”

“This guy who died—Kyle Billings. Why do they think he was swimming in Katama Bay?”

Hunter turned his back to her and rifled through drawers. What was going on? Why was she asking these questions?

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t been paying much attention. Do you want me to call you a car?”

“No, I’m fine to walk.” Ashley continued to watch from the edge of the bed. “I just know for a fact that a Katama Bay swimmer would have been carried further south by the current, if that’s actually where he started from. It doesn’t make any sense.” She pulled her sweater over her head.

Hunter walked to the doorway. “I heard he was on oxy or something, so who knows.”

Ashley considered this information. “Still, the current…it wouldn’t matter. He had to have been further north if it took two days for the body to wash ashore in that place. That’s what the coroner said, that it had been about two days.”

Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “Kind of a morbid thing to be hung up on, don’t you think? You’re like some kind of citizen investigator. You sure you don’t want a car?”

 

“Taut with moral complexity and a subtly building tension, this is the kind of story that punishes you if you dare to put it down. ”

— Kim Cross, New York Times best selling author of WHAT STANDS IN A STORM

 

 

Add it to your Goodreads Now!

 

 

“[a] skillfully wrought tale of atonement in a frame of psychological suspense.”— Booklist

 

GIVEAWAY:

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About Meg Little Reilly:

Meg Little Reilly is the author of the novels EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS and WE ARE UNPREPARED. She’s a public radio commentator, essayist, and outdoors enthusiast. Prior to writing novels, Meg worked in national politics and the White House. She holds a B.A. from the University of Vermont and an M.A. from the George Washington University. These days, she lives in rural Vermont with her husband and two daughters.

 

 

 

 

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THREE DAY FIANCÉE Excerpt Reveal

Marissa Clarke is stopping by today to share an excerpt from her upcoming THREE DAY FIANCEE! Check it out and grab your copy May 14th!

 

Title: Three Day Fiancée

Author: Marissa Clarke

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Day: May 14th

 

About Three Day Fiancée:

Helicopter pilot Taylor Blankenship’s time schedule is maxed out. Between his job, his eighty-pound slobbering mess of a dog, and his matchmaking grandmother, he has no time for anyone or anything—especially a woman. If only there were a way to get Grams to back down.

 

The job of New York City dog walker suits Caitlin Ramos perfectly while she preps for her CPA exam—steady, scheduled, and requiring very little human interaction; a huge seller since she’s still on the mend from a toxic relationship. Men suck. Especially her bossy, hot client with the Saint Bernard that thinks it’s a lap dog. No way will she go for his plan to pretend they’re engaged to get his grandmother off his case. Down, boy.

 

Offered a bargain she can’t refuse, Caitlin finds herself playing the part of fiancée to Taylor. Fortunately, it’s only for three days. All she has to do is fake a relationship with Mr. Bossy Pants in front of his entire family, survive a fierce game of truth or dare with an unscrupulous pair of octogenarians, endure a one-on-one round of Twister with Taylor, and not lose her heart to a guy who turns out  tobe a lot more than she’d bargained for.

 

 

Pre-Order Your Copy Today:

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Exclusive Excerpt:

Caitlin liked to snap the leash on Beauregard, a huge Saint Bernard, at exactly seven. Labeled a problem client, Beau was on his third agency and had blazed through a fair share of walkers, the latest of which was Rick, a co-worker from Animal Attraction. Caitlin and Beau had hit it off immediately, and he’d never given her any trouble, so she’d found Rick’s stories of the dog’s misbehavior hard to believe. She checked her phone when she pulled out her keychain. She still had one minute. At least one thing was going right—she was on time. She slid her key in the lock and froze.

Bark-bark! Crash.

She’d never known Beau to break anything before. Heck, he usually just laid around and slobbered. Sometimes even getting him to go out for a walk took a treat or two.

Crash. Thump-thump-thump. Ahoooooooo! Woooo! WOOF!

Great. A cold shower, stubbed toe, blown breaker, no caffeine, close encounter with a garbage truck, soggy feet, wet hair, and now this. Whatever this was.

A chill shot down her spine as she lifted her hand to knock, then stopped. Beauregard’s owner was never home at this time of day. He left for work before she arrived. What if someone had broken in?

Her fingers tightened on the key as she debated whether to call 911 or go tell Fred in the lobby.

“Beauregard, stop! Sit! Stay!” a male voice shouted from inside. Well, at least it wasn’t a burglar unless he was doubling as a dog trainer. Score one in the win column this time. She relaxed fractionally, silently unlocking the door and opening it just a crack to peek in.

Oh, man. Score ten in the win column.

The hottest guy she’d ever seen was chasing Beauregard around the living room wearing nothing but a bath towel—and the towel was hanging on for dear life…not that she blamed it; she’d hang on to that fine backside for dear life, too, given the chance. He was tall, with dark hair and a build that was lean and toned and screamed long-term gym membership. She bit back a laugh as Hot Guy and his six-pack abs hurdled the coffee table in an attempt to catch Beau, who lumbered to the far end of the room, drooling. She might have been drooling, too as he lunged for Beau and missed.

“Look don’t touch.” Yep. And she was getting a good look. She grinned, realizing her crap day had finally turned around.

And then a couple of things happened at once. Beau noticed her in the doorway and launched toward her at full steam, no doubt to give her his customary slobbery greeting with uncustomary zeal. As the dog passed the center of the room, Hot Guy reached out and grabbed his collar, causing the muscles across his broad chest to bunch up as he attempted to slow the dog—the attempt didn’t slow anything, especially Caitlin’s heartbeat. The day had done a total one-eighty. Win all around. No need for caffeine now.

“Woof!” Beauregard barked.

Yeah, woof! Caitlin was too stunned to do anything but stare, heart pounding, as the dog and towel-clad Hot Guy, still clinging to Beau’s collar, hurtled in her direction like a runaway locomotive. Bring on that train wreck, universe.

It was obvious Hot Guy hadn’t noticed her until that second, because his brown eyes grew huge as Beau reared up, his paws landing on her shoulders, tongue nailing her cheek as she slammed back against the doorjamb.

“Oh, shit,” he said, only inches from her. So close she could smell his aftershave or soap or whatever mouth-watering scent clung to his body. Releasing the dog, he tightened the towel and took a couple of steps back. “I’m sorry, I…”

Caitlin strained to peek around Beau’s huge head as the guy backed up another step and gave a smile. “I didn’t see you there.”

Well, no way could she say the same, and she certainly wasn’t sorry. Heck, the last few minutes warranted completely forgiving the universe for conspiring against her all morning.

 

About Marissa:

Marissa Clarke is a multi award-winning, RITA® nominated author of romance for adults and teens. She lives on an island in the middle of a river. Seriously, she does. When not writing, she wrangles her rowdy pack of three teens, two Cairn Terriers, and one husband.

Inexplicably, her favorite animal is the giant anteater and at one point, she had over 200 “pet” Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches. The roaches are a long story involving three science-crazed kids and a soft spot for rescue animals. The good news is, the “pet” roaches found a home… somewhere else.

 

Connect with Marissa:

Website | Mary Lindsay | Twitter | Facebook | Street Team/Facebook Group | Instagram | Pinterest

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TUCK ME IN TIGHT Cover Reveal

Today we have the cover reveal for Tuck Me In Tight by Jennifer Rebecca! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today:

 

Title: Tuck Me In Tight  

Author: Jennifer Rebecca

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Day: May 28th

Cover by Alyssa Garcia at Uplifting Designs.

 

About Tuck Me In Tight

George Washington Township, New Jersey has been relatively quiet ever since it was turned upside down following a high profile kidnapping. During the lull in excitement Detective Claire Goodnite has enjoyed being in the love bubble with the sexy SAIC Wesley O’Connell.

 

Never fully believing that she was capable of a committed relationship—with Wes or with anyone—leaves Claire feeling undeserving of the elusive happily ever after. She has never let herself enjoy what was within her grasp . . .

 

Until a string of murdered women dressed and posed like sleeping dolls shakes the very foundation of everything Claire thought she knew. Particularly when the only connection to be found between the three victims is the man who finally stole her heart for keeps, Wes.

 

But it’s like she always said, she’s bad at love.

 

Pre-order your copy today!

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Exclusive Excerpt:

This is how my heart breaks

What. The. Fuck.

I had sat down at my desk and opened the manila envelope that was left on top of my stack of mail. It had seemed harmless enough.

But it wasn’t.

I blink my eyes over and over trying to make my brain process what it’s seeing but I can’t. I can’t unsee the images in the stack of pictures in my hand. Giant glossy eight by tens from different angles so there is absolutely no doubt that my heart is breaking.

And it is broken. It’s not just broken, it’s shattered.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I hear from over my shoulder and I have to grit my teeth to keep from screaming.

I shuffle the pictures sliding the top one to the back of the stack so that I can see the next in the row. This one is zoomed in. His head is tipped back and his face is distorted in both lust and passion as she straddles his lap. Her hands hold his to her breasts and I can see the play of tendons flex through them as he grips them tight. It was only two nights ago that his hands were on my own breasts much the same way as I rode his cock on the sofa.

“Claire, did you hear me?” he asks but I shuffle the stack again.

In this picture, he has his arms wrapped around her back and he’s pulling her close, her breasts mashed up against his strong chest. Her hands with long, red painted talons press in on either side of his face and as they kiss hungrily, their mouths open as their tongues tangle.

“Goddamnit, Claire! Did you hear me?” My spine turns to steal.

“I did. I’m just choosing to ignore you,” I respond coolly.

“Don’t do this, baby,” he pleads.

“I’m not the one who did anything,” I snap.

“I can explain.” But I’m not interested in listening to him plead a case where he is more than guilty.

“I’m going to need you to leave, Wes.”

“No.”

“This changes everything,” I say so softly even I struggle to hear the words that are coming out of my mouth.

“This changes nothing! Fuck that, Claire,” he yells. “You want to run away. You have always wanted to run away. And here is your fucking reason served up to you on a goddamn silver platter.” Everyone around us in the bullpen is doing everything they can to make it appear that they are not listening, not studying the tragic demise of Claire and Wes with rapt attention, but we all know that they are.

“No,” I shout back as I throw the stack of glossy betrayal down on top of my desk as I push my rolly chair back and stand. It slams into the desk behind mine. “You do not get to come in here, where I work, and tell me that I am to blame for your bullshit.”

“Okay,” he says quickly as he holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I can see you need time.”

“I need a lot of things. One of them is definitely distance.”

“I don’t know if I can give you that. I can’t lose you, baby.” His words burn hot behind my eyes and the last thing I want is for the other guys in the bullpen to see me cry.

“You should have thought about that before you fooled around with that stripper.”

“Claire—” he starts but I don’t let him finish.

“You need to go now,” I say softly.

I stand with my feet apart, my hands on my hips, and my head bowed as if I’m waiting for a blow. But I see him clearly even if only in my peripheral. He looks at me and opens his mouth as if he’s going to try to explain again. Something in my stance must have told him it was a losing battle because he snaps his mouth closed before moving towards the exit.

Wes pauses just before opening the door to turn and look back at me, I see him in my peripheral, but I’m looking at his lies and deceit spread across my desk for all to see. He pulls open the door and then slams it on his way out. I’m Detective Claire Goodnite and this is how my heart breaks.

 

 

Catch up on the series:

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About the Author:

Jennifer is a thirty something lover of words, all words: the written, the spoken, the sung (even poorly), the sweet, the funny, and even the four letter variety. She is a native of San Diego, California where she grew up reading the Brownings and Rebecca with her mother and Clifford and the Dog who Glowed in the Dark with her dad, much to her mother’s dismay.

Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also an Alpha Xi Delta.

10 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of a 8 year old and 6 year old twins. She can often be found in East Texas on the soccer fields, drawing with her children, or reading. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals. She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.

 

www.JenniferRebeccaAuthor.com

JenniferRebeccaAuthor@gmail.com

facebook.com/JenniferRebeccaAuthor

Twitter: @JenniRLreads

Instagram: @JenniRLreads

 

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SUCH DARK THINGS Book Review & Blog Tour

 

From New York Times bestseller Courtney Cole, writing as Courtney Evan Tate, comes the psychological thriller that will keep readers up turning pages long into the night, SUCH DARK THINGS! “Written in breathless style, this page-turner relies on quick thrills, surprise twists…[for] readers seeking a fast entertaining tale…”(Publishers Weekly). Grab your copy of SUCH DARK THINGS today!

 

A HORRIFIC RECURRING NIGHTMARE IS THREATENING TO STEAL HER SANITY…

Dr. Corinne Cabot is living the American dream. She’s a successful ER physician in Chicago who’s married to a handsome husband. Together they live in a charming house in the suburbs. But appearances can be deceiving—and what no one can see is Corinne’s dark past. Troubling gaps in her memory mean she recalls little about a haunting event in her life years ago that changed everything.

She remembers only being in the house the night two people were found murdered. Her father was there, too. Now her father is in prison; she hasn’t been in contact in years. Repressing that terrifying memory has caused Corinne moments of paranoia and panic. Sometimes she thinks she sees things that aren’t there, hears words that haven’t been spoken. Or have they? She fears she may be losing her mind, unable to determine what’s real and what’s not.

So when she senses her husband’s growing distance, she thinks she’s imagining things. She writes her suspicions off to fatigue, overwork, anything to explain what she can’t accept—that her life really isn’t what it seems.

 

Grab your copy of SUCH DARK THINGS here!

Amazon | B&N | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo

 ***

Miss Riki’s Review:

You guys – I LOVED this book! Corrine is the kind of whip smart heroine I love to read about and the dichotomy of her capable ER physician life against the wicked nightmares that plague her past is the perfect setup for a bone chilling and crazy ride. This book is skillfully plotted in a sort of non-linear timeline that kept me guessing right up until the very end. When the secrets behind Corrine’s vision finally became clear, I was blown away. The whole book is dynamite and atmospheric and eerie as all get out, but let me tell you, from about 70% on- I WAS HOOKED. Like- found myself barely breathing as the events unfolded.

If you love deftly plotted psychological thrillers and a love story that is both real and wonderful, get your hands on SUCH DARK THINGS today!

***

Excerpt from SUCH DARK THINGS:

I scan through my texts.

None from Corinne. I’m oddly disappointed, even though she never texts me during the day. The ER keeps her too busy. But still. I thought she might text after this morning’s sex.

One from Michel.

How are you doing?

And several from a number I don’t recognize.

Hi there. It’s Zoe from Vilma’s.

Damn it.

I swallow, and I read her other texts.

You left your credit card at the café this morning.

Do you want to meet me so you can have it back ASAP?

I feel a jolt. First, fuck. I left my card someplace? I can’t even remember the last time I did that. How irresponsible. I practically don’t have a credit limit, so a thief could have a field day with it.

Second, how weird that she’s texting me. So weird.

I can just pick it up from Vilma in the morning, I answer. Thanks for letting me know.

I see the three bubbles on my text screen signifying that she is answering. So I wait without putting my phone down. The idea of who is on the other end of the phone gives me a jolt, a thrill, even though my initial thoughts about the girl weren’t flattering. She might have clear daddy issues, but she has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. It strokes my ego that she’s texting me.

I actually have the card with me. I didn’t want anything to happen to it. I’m in town running errands. I could meet you for lunch?

Another jolt.

She wants to meet for lunch? Is this for real?

What a kind offer, I answer and my heart literally pounds. But I would never impose on you like that. If you’re working tomorrow, I’ll pick it up then.

There are three bubbles. She’s typing.

But nothing comes through.

I wait.

The three bubbles are still there, then they disappear.

Still nothing.

I can’t help but picture her in her overly-tight waitress uniform. The bright blue complemented her skin tone, and her tits were busting out of the top. The skirt was short, and it’s quite possible that she made it that way on purpose.

For a minute, being a red-blooded man, I picture that ass bent over a chair, her uniform skirt hitched up to her hips. Her lacy panties would be shoved to the side…and I think she’d be shaved.

I indulge for just a second, then I push the images out of my head. It’s a fantasy. That’s all.

I’m normal.

I love my wife.

I miss my wife.

Corinne is my world.

I jam my phone into my pocket as my door opens with my next patient.

“Mr. Ford,” I greet the elderly man in front of me, the one with OCD who is at this very moment wiping his feet on the carpet as he walks to wipe away all germs from his shoes. He does it a thousand times a day. “I’m so glad to see you. How have you been?”

He takes a seat in the chair across from me, careful to keep his right foot crossed over the left, and for the next hour, I’m immersed in the world of an obsessive man. This week, his new habit is stepping on a particular stair-step on his porch precisely four times every time he goes home.

We discuss coping mechanisms, and the chemical reasons that OCD could be at play in his brain, and when we’re nearly done, I find him staring at the portrait of Corinne and me sitting on my desk.

“You’re a lucky man,” he tells me, and his cloudy eyes are pensive. “I lost my Helen a decade ago. I haven’t been the same since.”

No, he hasn’t. His OCD emerged that year, when he was lost in grief.

“I am lucky,” I agree. “My wife is a brilliant woman.”

“She’s a looker, too,” Mr. Ford observes, and I try to see the picture through the fresh eyes of a stranger.

Corinne’s eyes are bright and blue, her hair long and blond. She’s thin, she’s trim, she’s tall. Her legs are long, her smile bright.

She is a looker. Sometimes I forget that.

Probably because I haven’t seen her in days and days.

I hide my stress. My patients don’t get to hear my very real and very human problems.

We finish our session and Mr. Ford leaves, and I wrap up my notes. When I’m finished, I’m surprised to realize that it’s lunchtime.

Ginny pokes her head in. “Hey, boss. I’m going out for lunch. Should I bring you something back?”

I could meet you for lunch?

Unbidden, the texted words flash through my mind, and guiltily, I push them away. Fuck, man. Not cool.

“I’m good,” I tell Ginny, and I think my words have a double meaning. I’m good. I don’t have straying thoughts about a woman who isn’t my wife. Not real straying thoughts.

Ginny leaves, and I grab my jacket, and as I do, my phone buzzes, and I think my wife might’ve texted me back.

I’m startled when I see that I’m wrong.

It’s not Corinne.

It’s a picture.

Of Zoe.

I was right. She’s shaved.

My heart thuds as I stare at the nude picture.

Her tits are big and full and her thumb is brushing her nipple, her other hand caressing her shaved vagina. Her eyes are big and turned to the camera in a sultry gaze, and she’s completely and absolutely naked.

Are you freaking kidding me?

I swallow hard, and it’s not like I haven’t been hit on before. I have. But this is different. It’s so blatant, so outrageous, and frankly, in some hidden and shameful spot, it turns me on.

Fuck, man.

I’m sorry, I’m married, I reply, typing with shocked wooden fingers.

Because I’m good. The stiffness in my crotch doesn’t count.

Three bubbles.

That’s fine, she answers. Do you want a girlfriend?

Sweet Jesus.

She can’t be serious. Is her generation so blatant and direct?

No, I answer. Sorry.

Three bubbles.

Hmm. We’ll see.

 

 

 

 

“Fans of domestic thrillers with an unreliable narrator will gobble this one up…Recommended for all thriller/suspense collections.”
–Booklist

Add it to your Goodreads Now!

 

 

 

About Courtney Evan Tate:

Courtney Evan Tate is the nom de plume for New York Times bestselling author, Courtney Cole.  Courtney Evan Tate is her darker side… the side that explores shadowy places.

Courtney lives in Florida with her husband and kids.  She has a passion for raising drug addiction awareness, the Marine Corp (her middle son is a Marine) and being introspective on the human condition.

To learn more about her, you can visit www.courtneycolewrites.com.

 

 

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FLIGHTPATH by Amber Addison Release Blitz

Today we have the release blitz for Amber Addison’s Flightpath! Check out the release day festivities and be sure to grab your copy today!

Title: Flightpath

Author: Amber Addison

Genre: Contemporary Military Romance

Flightpath:

Being married young isn’t a thing of the past in Louisiana. And for Madelyn and Seth, it’s a way of life. Except, no one prepared them for the skies ahead.

Moving to new places more times than either of them could count with new battles to fight at every stop, their Flightpath to happiness is turbulent.

Between Air Force Pararescue school, deployments, a baby, and the strain that military life can put on a family, they’ve discovered life has to fall apart in order to fall back together again.

When a terrorist attack puts Maddie’s life in grave danger, their lives definitely fall apart, and Seth knows saving her might be the only thing that saves them.

FLIGHTPATH can be read as a standalone or as book one in The Love and Valor Series.

*Previously released as a Titan World Novella,

with New York Times best-selling author Cristin Harber…now available with an extended epilogue as a full length novel.

Get Your Copy Today!

Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon FR | Amazon IN | Paperback | Kobo | Smashwords | Nook | iBooks | GooglePlay ⠀⠀⠀⠀

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

I was married to the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. We made it through basic training and a couple of specialized training schools, despite the time apart. I knew she was with me for the long haul. When we moved away from Texas and on to the next round of training, she never looked back. She squeezed my hand and told me as long as she had me and I had her everything would fall into place. It was always our thing. Maddie squeezing my hand or me squeezing hers. That unsaid reassurance both of us needed from time to time. When I was away from her, I of course missed her body—which she so graciously made sure I had plenty of pictures of—Thank you internet!—but I missed the way she squeezed my hand when I felt like I was struggling. I missed the way her eyes twinkled and turned super green when she saw me walking toward her. I missed the way her eyes turned dark green, almost brown when she was angry, and even how they turned blue when she was sad. I missed that gold ring she would get around her pupils on the “hazel days” as we called them. So yeah, I missed fucking her. But I also just missed her, and it was something not many of the guys understood.

 

The Pipeline, a seemingly endless chain of classes and schools across the country that I had to take over the next two years were easy in terms of our relationship, but hard as hell in terms of finishing each step and getting to the next. Maddie was able to be with me most of the time, and we got family housing. I felt like I was taking care of her while I was training. She kept writing. I didn’t want her to, at least not for money. I wanted her to write for fun. I swear she wrote all the time…unless she was watching those dumbass shows that make trauma medicine look like a joke. But she wrote a lot. Mostly random pieces in small online publications, but she said it gave her a sense of having something to do, and I couldn’t argue with that logic. It felt good to take care of my girl, though. So, I was always a bit torn but didn’t want to be that dude who looked like an asshole by telling his wife not to work. Growing up definitely wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.

 

There was a lot riding on my success in the PJ program. Maddie and I were kind of living school to school for a few months. If I failed, I’d be out and back to trying to decide what I wanted to do in the service. I wasn’t the only one who’d be starting all over again. We both would be. And, because I’m stubborn, I’d try to be a PJ again. I would’ve kept training and trying. I wanted to be a PJ more than anything in my life. For the first time, I knew my purpose was to love my wife and save people’s lives. Maddie tried to take a break from school for me while we spent a little over a year in New Mexico where I finished my Pararescue EMT/Paramedic and my Recovery Specialist courses. I wouldn’t let her though. I mean, she could’ve told me no. Maddie had no qualms about being independent. She was really cute, always thinking she would get her way. She ended up enrolling in school for two semesters in New Mexico. I still claim that as a point in the win column, even though it was only a couple of semesters. After that, they shipped us off to a new base in Arizona. I never thought I’d call Arizona home. But it sure as fuck beat that humid shit I was so used to in Louisiana. Maddie reenrolled in college while we settled in, and I continued my training with my unit for an eventual deployment. I was officially a PJ, and Arizona was home, for now. I had my wife. I had my passion. I was pretty fucking happy. It did scare me how badly I wanted to see some action overseas, though, and it outright terrified Mads.

 

It felt like years, but sooner rather than later, I was able to use my hard training. I was going to be more than a new recruit. I was going to do more than just train. I was going to implement skills very few people could.

 

I was going to war.

 

My first deployment was really hard on everyone. Myself included. Maddie was about to graduate college and there was nothing I could do to stop my deployment. In the military, you don’t get to call the shots. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be there to hug her, to celebrate with her. I wanted to be the man I was supposed to be. But, maybe I was. Maybe the man I was supposed to be could do both. I was sure as fuck going to try. There was nothing I could do to properly portray how much I would miss her smile in my life every day. She’d never understand how much I would worry about her. I tried to tell her. I tried to show her—in some of the dirtiest ways possible—that I wasn’t going anywhere. That she was mine. I was hers. War wouldn’t tear us apart. We wouldn’t be one of those statistics. Plus, the Air Force would be in and out of this conflict in no time.

 

The problem with my plan was that we weren’t in and out of the conflict in no time. When I enlisted, I knew there was a chance I’d go to war. I didn’t think it was likely, but I realized it was a possibility. I wasn’t a fucking moron. I also knew there was a chance I could very well die serving my country. That was a sacrifice I decided I was willing to make without consulting with my new wife. I never asked her how she felt about it. Later, I would learn to regret never asking her opinion. She might’ve told me how much she’d hurt without me. My little copilot, having to pilot life on her own. She always did a fine job, but I know now that she always wished I was there to keep her on course.

 

But when I’m honest with myself? I would’ve chosen the same anyway. Saving lives? That’s a feeling I’m unable to describe. Saving kids, being the one to save my brothers and sisters at war, knowing I could save the life of an innocent civilian? That’s what I was supposed to be. That was what I was always supposed to be, even before I knew it. I just hoped I didn’t lose the only woman I would ever love over my need to do something for the greater good.

It had been nice stateside, pretending war wasn’t looming in the background. I never thought it would actually happen, not to an extent where I would need to be deployed. Wars were a thing of the past, right? But, when terrorists attacked Americans on United States soil, it was only a matter of time before we got called to serve. That whole thing happened rather quickly. I went from being a pretty carefree, happily married young man, the man that loved coming home to my wife every night and fucking her in ways that only I knew how. I equally loved holding her hand during a movie night on the couch or having her crawl into my lap and go to sleep as I played video games. Life was easy. It was good. Life was unreal.

 

But life got real. Shit got real. Shit got real in a real big fucking hurry.

 

The day before my deployment snuck up on me, and before I knew it, I was facing months without my girl. I knew we’d be okay. We’d made it through plenty of long distance periods. But each one hurt just as much as the first time, and as time went on, each one hurt as bad as the worst times. I was better at hiding it than she was. She was so free with her emotions. I had always been pretty open with my emotions around her, too. But the closer deployment came, the more I began to try to turn a lot of my emotions off. I knew my training, while it was the best around, was nothing compared to the wounds I’d be seeing. I knew learning to close a body bag would be nothing like actually doing it with a lifeless body inside of it. I knew what war did to my friends who had been and come back. I thought if I started to shut down before I left, I would definitely be okay. The problem with that plan?

 

My beautiful, emotional, Maddie.

 

 

About Amber Addison:

Amber Addison is a southern mama who writes about real life love in small town USA. She enjoys writing contemporary romance that has it’s ups and downs just like the trials that we face in our day to day. Love isn’t perfect and she doesn’t pretend that it is.

Amber writes anything from swoon worthy military guys to sexy soccer players. When she’s not writing about hot guys and strong women, she’s reading or cleaning up an endless trail of toys left behind by her dog and daughter or getting tattoos.

Nominated for Best Debut Author, 2017, UtopiaCon

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