Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Super Book Blast ~ The Likelihood of Lucy by Jenny Holiday


It's a book blast and the book featured is The Likelihood of Lucy by Jenny Holiday. You'll want to comment. If you do, you're entered to win $25 Amazon gift card. Sounds cool, doesn't it?

THE LIKELIHOOD OF LUCY
by Jenny Holiday

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  
London, 1815 

Trevor Bailey is on the cusp of opening the greatest hotel in London. His days as a gutter snipe are behind him, as he enjoys a life of wealth, society, and clandestine assignments as a spy in the service of His Majesty. Until one tumultuous night churns up the past he'd long left behind...

Turned out by her employer for her radical beliefs, Lucy Greenleaf reaches out to the man who was once her most beloved friend. She never expected that the once-mischievous Trevor would be so handsome and gentleman-like and neither can deny the instant attraction.

But Lucy's reformer ways pose a threat to the hotel's future and his duties as a spy. Now Trevor must choose between his new life and the woman he's always loved…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now an excerpt:


“How do you know if you want to marry someone?” Lucy watched Catharine’s eyes for signs of shock. Still, better not to be too specific. “Hypothetically speaking, I mean.”

Catharine tilted her head and examined Lucy quizzically, making no mention of the abrupt nature of the query—the tea had only just been poured and the footman had hardly got the door closed behind him before Lucy unleashed the ambush. “How do you know if you want to marry someone? A good question. If you have options—and unlike most women, you do—it’s quite easy.”

That’s what she’d been afraid of.

“You should marry someone who makes you feel a very great deal of discomfort,” Catharine declared. “At least initially.”

Lucy swallowed the very unladylike string of curses accreting in her throat. “This discomfort you speak of. What does it signify? It would seem to stand in contradiction to what you said in our earlier conversations. You said that a woman should look for a man who concerns himself with his wife’s pleasure. Are not pleasure and discomfort opposing states of being?”

“No, they are not.” Catharine must have heard Lucy’s silent plea for an explanation, because she grinned. “I know it may seem that way. But in my experience, the degree of discomfort—misery, even—a man makes a woman feel is directly proportional to the amount of pleasure he can bring her.”

“But why must everything be so extreme?” Lucy cried. Then, embarrassed that her question had very nearly become a wail, she took a deep breath and tried again. “Is there no place in this world for more moderate sentiments? Contentment, say? Equanimity and intellectual compatibility? I’m talking about a feeling of being adequately matched. What is so wrong with that?”

“Nothing, of course. Many successful, pleasant marriages are built on just such a foundation. And I would never counsel a woman against accepting a man who brought those qualities to her life.” Lucy was about to protest that Catharine contradicted herself, when the older woman let
her teacup fall to its saucer with a clatter and looked intently at Lucy. “If she had no other options.”

Lucy slumped against the back of the settee, and when, after a few seconds, she didn’t speak, Catharine moved from her chair to sit beside her. “And let me make myself perfectly clear. We’ve been talking about pleasure, and given my reputation—and what you’ve seen of me in our colorful conversations with Emily—you probably assume that we’re speaking of the sort of pleasure found in the marital bed.” Lucy started to protest. She’d heard enough already—her
worst suspicions had been confirmed. But Catharine waved away her objection. “We are, of course. And heaven knows Emily likes to tease me about my, ah, fondness for that kind
of pleasure. But that’s not really what I’m talking about.”

“What are you talking about, then?” Lucy whispered, fearing the pronouncement was about to get worse.

“Love. I’m talking about love. I shy away from the word, generally.” She shrugged. “I’m like a man that way. But what I’m trying to say is that if you have any choice in the matter, you should marry someone you’re in love with.

**

“Stop cleaning,” Trevor said.

Lucy turned. “And a good morning to you, too.” Another precept she’d always tried to instill in her pupils—a false show of confidence could sometimes lead to the real thing. Not that she was preaching affectation. Never that. Mrs. Wollstonecraft—her guiding light in all things—would not
approve.

He did not stop scowling. “You are a guest here. Guests don’t clean.”

“Well somebody has to. Beds don’t make themselves.”

“Why make them at all?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t make mine. Why bother? You’re just going to get into it again later.”

She would have laughed, but he seemed perfectly in earnest. And she had to admit there was some logic to his position. Still, she felt compelled to defend herself. “A servant worth his or her salt would not be able to look at an unmade bed and not remedy it. You have no servants at all?”

“I’ll have an army of them when the hotel opens—a hiring spree is my next major task, in fact, and not one I’m looking forward to. For now, I have a woman who comes in for half days and cooks. But no one enters my private apartments. Ever.”

“I did.”

“Yes.” He moved to the bed and threw the counterpane back, undoing her work. “And you’re not a servant.”

She had to cover her shock at his deliberate mussing of the bed. “That’s debatable. The fate of the governess is to be forever lodged in the limbo between the household and its staff. She is not quite a servant, not quite a member of the family. Mary Wollstonecraft once wrote, ‘A teacher at a school is only a kind of upper servant, who has more work than the menial ones. A governess to young ladies is equally disagreeable.’” Clamping her mouth shut, she checked herself. There
was no need to start up with Mary. That was exactly what had landed her in this mess to begin with. It’s just that Mary’s words were always so close to Lucy’s heart. It was difficult to censor herself sometimes. But that’s exactly what she had to learn to do if she was lucky enough to secure another position.

“Be that as it may, at the Jade, you are a guest.” He set a package on the unmade bed. “Put this on, and then we’re going out. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He was gone before she could answer.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About the Author:

Jenny Holiday started writing in fourth grade, when her awesome hippie teacher, between sessions of Pete Seeger singing and anti-nuclear power plant letter writing, gave the kids notebooks and told them to write stories. Most of Jenny's featured poltergeist, alien invasions, or serial killers who managed to murder everyone except her and her mom. She showed early promise as a romance writer, though, because nearly every story had a happy ending: fictional Jenny woke up to find that the story had been a dream, and that her best friend, father, and sister had not, in fact, been axe-murdered. From then on, she was always writing, often in her diary, where she liked to decorate her declarations of existential angst with nail polish teardrops. Eventually she channelled her penchant for scribbling into a more useful format. After picking up a PhD in urban geography, she became a professional writer, and has spent many years promoting research at a major university, which allows her to become an armchair astronomer/historian/particle physicist, depending on the day. Eventually, she decided to try her hand again at happy endings--minus the bloodbaths. You can follow her twitter accounts @jennyholi and @TropeHeroine or visit her on the web at jennyholiday.com.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jennyholidaybooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/jennyholiday   

Get your copy here: 

http://www.amazon.com/Likelihood-Entangled-Historical-Regency-Reformers-ebook/dp/B00WRGWHT2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1431466263&sr=8-1&keywords=the+likelihood+of+lucy


http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-likelihood-of-lucy-jenny-holiday/1121815835?ean=9781633752825


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Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Super Book Blast ~ Summer Fire!

It's the summer and it's hot. Very hot. Check out these fantastic stories and comment on the post. Why? One randomly drawn commenter will receive a $25 Amazon/BN Gift Card. Sweet!
Want more chances to win? Here's the link for the tour: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/05/book-blast-summer-fire-love-when-its.html

SUMMER FIRE
by Gennita Low, Stacey Mosteller,  R.J. Lewis,  L. Wilder,  Victoria Danann,  Kym Grosso,  Cat Miller,  Mimi Barbour,  Clarissa Wild,  Teresa Gabelman,  Linda Barlow,  Helen Scott Taylor,  Victoria James,  Mona Risk,  Patrice Wilton,  Joan Reeves,  Danielle Jamie,  Terri Marie,  Lorhainne Eckhart ,  Brandy L. Rivers,  Nicole Blanchard

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The book is on sale for $0.99! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

21 ALL NEW Contemporary Romance stories by NY Times, USA Today, and National Bestselling authors.

Love when it’s hot? So do we. Especially when we’re writing about gritty alphas, angsty bad boys, sizzling attraction, and unrequited passion. Turn the fan to oscillate and join us for this steamy, groundbreaking bundle of summer tales that are hot hot hot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now for an excerpt:
From "Summer Rhythm" by Brandy L. Rivers

Intending to head for the bar, Chloe got lost in a daydream when she stepped through the door. A familiar song caught her attention. Glancing up, her gaze locked on her biggest regret.

Molten brown eyes, shaggy brown hair, perfectly curved lips twisted in a sinful smirk. That sexy mouth, and talented fingers—and damn, the man could play an instrument. Nearly any.

Smoldering eyes locked on hers for a brief second, igniting hope. Then his brow furrowed as he looked away. Closing his lids, Doug Walsh threw himself into the music like he wanted to banish her from his mind. She couldn’t blame him.

Her desire was a cruel twist of fate. He was even hotter than the last time she saw him, eight years ago. A twinge of guilt thrummed through her and she turned, with the intention of walking out the door.

Someone looped their arm through hers and dragged her toward the bar. 

“Thought I mentioned your favorite mistake was playing tonight,” Jackie sing-songed. They’d been best friends since kindergarten. As much as Chloe loved her, Jackie was going to torture her.

She didn’t want to think about the way she’d let Doug in, only to shut him out the next morning. Not once, but twice.

Hopeless, she looked over. “If you had, I wouldn’t have come.”

With a dejected sigh, she climbed onto a stool and dropped her chin into her hand. Nodding at the bartender, she ordered, “Long Island, please?”

Bartender dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Jackie nudged her. “Why not? Clearly you’re still hung up on him. I saw your reaction.”

“He probably hates me.”

“Nah. He never let it slow him down.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you saying Doug turned into a man-whore?”

Jackie’s brow scrunched. “Not exactly. Though he doesn’t have a problem picking up women.”

“That’s karma for you.” Chloe turned to find her drink. Tracing the disposable coaster, she took a sip from the tall glass before asking, “Why did you invite me here?”

“Figured it would be like old times. Only without having to sneak into bars.”

Chloe giggled. “What the hell. He’s already seen me and the worst he can do is ignore my sorry ass.”

A smirk lifted one corner of Jackie’s mouth as she looked to the stage. “Doubt he’ll ignore you long. He can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Get Your Copy Here:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1Dv2jy3 
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Summer-Fire-Love-When-Its-ebook/dp/B00U1DZH7C/


Apple: http://bit.ly/1CVOgih  
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/summer-fire/id968862231?mt=11

B&N: http://bit.ly/18d9QY0
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/summer-fire-gennita-low/1121243540?ean=2940151700993&itm=1&usri=2940151700993

KOBO: http://bit.ly/19QsJAD  
https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/summer-fire

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1wsmBsL


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Out Now ~ Home to Cedarwood

Home to Cedarwood 
Single Dads Society, Book 1
By Megan Slayer
M/M, Anal Sex, Masturbation
From Loose Id
27,000 words, Novella

An AllRomance Ebooks Bestseller!!
An Amazon Bestseller!!

Colin Baker owns a book store and he’s back in Cedarwood with his son. He’s looking for a new start after a bad breakup, but he never expected that start to include his old crush, Officer Jordan Hargrove. Jordan hasn’t come out, but if he can score with Colin, then he’s all in. He’s dreamed of hot nights with the quiet man.

After a speeding ticket and some hurt feelings, sparks fly between the bookstore owner and the police officer, but Cedarwood is a small town with small town values, and a gay couple isn’t what the town expects. Colin’s created a support group for single gay fathers and he feels he’s making some difference in Cedarwood. Some folks in Cedarwood are fine with these two men reconnecting, but some aren’t.

Will the naysayers be enough to drive Colin and Jordan apart, or will they make their way together in this small town?

Available from these retailers:

And now for an excerpt:
Copyright © Megan Slayer, 2015, all rights reserved

“Hello. Welcome to the Single-Fathers group. My name is Colin Baker. I own the Books Comics Vintage and Memorabilia Bookstore on Main Street. I’m thirty years old, gay, and I have a son. I’ve been single for the last year, and I’m not sure I’m ready to start dating, but I’m positive I’m tired of being alone.” Colin rubbed his hands together and stood behind the podium. He hated being the center of attention. Being terminally shy, he preferred to play the role of the wallflower. Then he and his partner adopted their son. Everything changed when they welcomed Gage into their lives. He gripped the top of the podium. 

“I’m glad you’re all here.” Colin folded his hands to hide the shaking. “I created this group for the single gay parents in the Cedarwood area—especially the guys. As you know, Cedarwood isn’t exactly welcoming to the LGBT community. There aren’t many of us, but I figured we all need a support system. Feel free to add your name to the outreach list and invite anyone you think might like to attend. In this group, we share our stories and support each other. Now I’ll open the floor.”
 

He stepped away from the mic and made his way down the steps of the stage. Meeting in the basement of the former Reserved Church of the Open-Minded worked better than he’d expected. People knew the building, but no one seemed to care if anyone gathered there—unless the people were gay. The church for anyone who wanted to worship only lasted long enough for a sign to be erected. Bad for the church members but good for Colin and his group, which now only numbered five. He grabbed one of the chairs and listened to the others in the group share their stories.
 

He’d been asked once if the group was intended to hook up the single fathers. Colin smiled at the time, but inwardly seethed. God. Yes, they were single, but not everyone wanted to hook up. Okay, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t interested in a hookup. After Nicolas, he dreaded jumping back into the dating pool. But the loneliness wouldn’t go away.
 

Two and a half hours later, the meeting broke up. He helped put the chairs away, turn off lights, and locked the building. The guys in the group were a good bunch. Everyone seemed interested in the problems of the others. Some of the men made headway in their love lives. Some didn’t. Some were happy to be in Colin’s not-yet-ready-for-dating camp.
 

Despite the town’s location outside Cleveland, the population only numbered around six thousand. Most people worked in the bigger city and spent their weekends in Cedarwood. People moved to Cedarwood for the schools and the safe small-town feel. The children tended to live idyllic lives. The kids belonging to gay parents were the subject of bullying more than some of the other children. He knew because he’d heard stories from his son.
 

Colin drove home to the duplex he shared with his brother, Farin. The light shone in the living room of his half of the building. Farin must’ve brought Gage home for the night. Colin checked his watch. Nine p.m. Shit. He’d stayed out fifteen minutes past his son’s bedtime. He preferred to be home before Gage went to sleep in order to kiss him good night. He strode into the house and dropped his coat and keys on the chair by the door.
 

“Heya.” Farin stood. He rolled his shoulders and groaned. “I’ve been on that couch for the better part of forty-five minutes. Gage and I read every book he’s got on every superhero known to mankind.”
 

“He likes his superheroes.” Colin rubbed his temples. “Police too. I don’t know why. I tried to get him interested in baseball, but that hasn’t worked.”
 

“It’s a phase. Remember how I used to get silly over fire trucks?” Farin patted his brother’s shoulder. “I was five, but I loved those trucks. But we were talking about Gage. He hit the hay ten minutes ago. He didn’t want to go to bed. When I asked him why, he said there’s a kid at school giving him hell. He didn’t say hell, but you get the idea.”
 

Colin pointed to the chair. “Sit. He hasn’t said a word of this to me. What’s going on?”
 

“Okay.” Farin perched on the edge of the armchair. “Some kid in his class—he wouldn’t say who—has been talking crap to him. Saying his dad is gay, so he must be gay. Kids are rough at that age.”
 

“He’s seven.” A dull ache grew behind his eyes. The next thing he knew, the kid would be teasing Gage because he was adopted too. His younger brother definitely inherited the listening gene. Where Colin moved first and thought second, Farin knew how to get people to talk. Apparently he’d worked his magic on Gage.
 

Farin rested his elbows on his knees. “Don’t let it bother you. Kids say stupid shit all the time. I talked to Gage, but he wanted me to keep quiet. He just wants to know that Dad has his back, but he’s scared to talk to you because he’s worried you’ll get upset. Let him know you’ll go in and talk to the principal too, if that’s what needs to be done.”
 

“You bet your ass I’ll talk to the principal.” Colin bit back his anger. He hated the way the residents of Cedarwood refused to accept the differences in society. So some people were gay. Who cared?
 

“Calm down before you do or you’ll blow a gasket and get yourself into trouble.” Farin left the chair and headed to the front door. “Give Gage a kiss, tell him it’s cool and you and Uncle Farin love him. If you need help, I’m right over there.” He saluted Colin, then headed out the door.
 

Colin jumped up from his seat and ascended the stairs two at a time. When he reached Gage’s bedroom, his son was already asleep. The kid did have a talent for crashing once his head hit the pillow. He kissed Gage on the forehead and whispered, “Love you, big boy.”
 

Colin crept out of the room and left the door open a bit. He went back downstairs long enough to lock up and turn off the lights. He paused at the picture window. The lights of Cedarwood twinkled against the dark sky. In the silence of the night, the small town was almost pretty. He should’ve been happy to live in the community. The schools were all located in one central campus and the sports programs were highly ranked. The graduating classes featured only around a hundred and twenty-five kids each. A person could still shop in town and get everything needed in one trip down the main drag. The cost of living wasn’t horrible, either. But the cost of living in Cedarwood as a gay man rose by the minute. He managed to fuck himself over doubly by co-owning the lone bookstore in town. The people wanted the books, comics, and collectibles he sold, but that didn’t stop them from making derogatory comments.
 

He raked his fingers through his hair. He wasn’t part of the star baseball team and he wasn’t the naive kid from high school anymore. He had a kid, a business, and a life. He’d worry about Gage’s problems at school in the morning. Maybe by then he’d have a fresh perspective or better advice to give his son. Maybe.
 

* * * *
 

The next morning, Colin stood at the island in the middle of the kitchen and drummed his fingers on the faux marble surface. Two months into school and his kid was late…again.
 

“Come on, Gage. You’re late.” He glanced up the back set of stairs one more time The light glowed on the wall from the second-story bathroom. “What are you doing up there?”
 

Gage rounded the corner and bounded down the stairs. “Sorry, Dad.” He kept his head down. “My belly hurts.”
 

“Really?” Colin stopped Gage on the steps. “I heard about the kid at school. Besides, you’re only a week away from the Halloween parties. You love those parties.”
 

“Harvest parties. We can’t have Halloween ones. It’s against the law.”
 

“It’s not against the law.” Probably against something else, but Colin didn’t want to discuss that with Gage. “So talk. What’s with the kid at school?”
 

“Uncle Farin blabbed.” Gage ducked under Colin’s arm. “He wasn’t supposed to talk to you. He promised.”
 

“You do realize your uncle and I talk about everything?” Colin followed his son into the kitchen. “So spill your guts, kid.”
 

Gage stared at Colin. He might have been adopted, but the way the kid glowered at him, he could’ve sworn Gage shared the same gene pool. With the same blond hair, blue eyes, and thick lashes, Gage reminded Colin of a miniversion of himself.
 

Colin squatted in front of his son to put them at eye level. “What did the kid say?”
 

“That my dad is a fag.” Gage stuck out his bottom lip. “Why would he do that? You’re a dad.”
 

Colin sighed. “Okay.” He needed to explain the situation in order for Gage to understand. “Some people say mean things. No matter how hard you try to get away from them, they’ll always be there.” God, did he know that lesson well. He’d tried to shake the memories of the guy from high school who insisted on making his life hell.
 

“What do I do?” Gage rested his hands on his hips. “Uncle Farin said to ignore him.”
 

“That’s a good idea. Don’t let him know you’re upset. It’s hard because you’re going to be mad, but once he realizes you’re not going to react, the kid should stop,” Colin said.
 Unless you have a secret crush on the guy being the dick. He shook his head. He wasn’t about to tell his son that little tidbit of information. 

“Fine.” Gage picked up his tennis shoes. “But I’m already late. Why don’t you just let me skip today?” He grinned and batted his lashes. “A mental health day, like you say you want to have?”
 

Kids were such sponges. He’d have to remember to think before he spoke in the future. “No mental health days. Grab your book bag. You have art today, don’t you? You love art.”
 

Gage yanked his bag from the hook. “I do.” He hurried past Colin and headed out to the garage.
 

Colin picked up his tablet, wallet, and keys. He’d get Gage to school late, but at least he’d conned the kid into going. He locked the back door, then climbed into the car beside his son.
 

Once the garage door opened, he backed out of the garage and closed the door. Colin eased the rest of the way down the driveway, then turned onto the street. He glanced at his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
 

“I’m going to take you in to school and write the excuse then, okay?” Colin asked. He barreled down the back road to the school complex. The speed limit sign read twenty-five. He snorted. Did anyone actually drive that slow anymore? He checked his speed. Thirty-nine. Fuck. He tapped the brake. He needed to get his head in the game and pay attention. The speed limit was there for a reason, not a suggestion. God. He was a dad and getting his kid to school safely should’ve been utmost in his mind.
 

Colin let off the gas and continued down the road, but something in the mirror caught his attention. Red and blue lights. What the hell? Realization washed over him as he recognized the reason for the lights. A cop. Fucking balls. He’d been caught speeding. He pulled over to the side of the road and parked.
 

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Gage asked from the backseat.
 

“Daddy went too fast on this road and the cop is calling me out. I was wrong. I was speeding.” He sighed and leaned back in his seat. Shit. Of all the times to screw up, he had to do it in front of his kid.
 

“Sorry, Dad.” Gage curled up in his booster seat.
 

“Me too, kid. Now you’re superlate.” Colin pressed the button to roll down the window, then reached across the dash to the glove box and retrieved his registration.
 

“Excuse me, sir.” A shadow darkened the window. “License and registration, please?”
 

Colin slid the card from his wallet. “Here you go.” He refrained from looking at the cop. Not because he disliked cops, but because the shame of his actions washed over him in epic proportions. He’d been speeding, in a school zone more than likely and with his kid in the car.
 

“Do you know how fast you were going, sir?” the officer asked.
 

“Probably twenty miles over the limit.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
 

“Thirty-nine in a twenty. This is a marked school zone. The lights were flashing.”
 

“I’m sorry, Officer.” Colin opened his eyes. The stress was no excuse to be a jerk. “I was trying to get my son to school and wasn’t paying attention. I accept responsibility for my actions.”
 And I’ve learned my lesson. 

“I see.” The cop paused. “Colin Baker? I knew a guy named Colin Baker when I was in school. We played ball together. Huh. Well, I’m going to give you a ticket. Give me a moment.”
 

Colin slid his gaze to the officer as the man retreated to the cruiser behind Colin’s car. He didn’t need to read the man’s badge to know his name. He’d recognize that body anywhere—Jordan Hargrove. Why in the name of God did the guy who’d featured prominently in all Colin’s high-school fantasies have to be the guy who was currently writing him up for breaking the speed limit?
 

The dull ache from the night before developed behind Colin’s eyes. So much for being a good role model for his son. Horrible fucking luck.
 





Friday, May 15, 2015

Super Book Blast Virtual Tour ~ A Promise Kept by KS David

It's a Super Book Blast with A Promise Kept by KS David. Check it out! Oh and comment because there are prizes involved! K.S. David will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn host. You can follow the tour here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/04/book-blast-promise-kept-by-ks-david.html The more you comment, the better your chances of winning!


A PROMISE KEPT
by K.S. David

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quinn McGuire only wanted to lay her mother to rest. She planned to hustle out of Hayden County,
Kentucky once it was all done. The town held nothing but bad memories for her. She’d never forget the echoes of children’s taunts calling her poor trash and whispers about her daddy's crimes. With the exception of her best friend, Jack Lassiter, there was no one in Hayden she cared about - and she’d even been hiding from him for the last two years. But in less than 24-hours after her arrival, Quinn’s brother gets arrested for murder, derailing her plans for a quick exit. Quinn has to find a way to clear his name, but shadows from her past threaten her efforts and her sanity. As she moves closer to the truth, she just may be putting herself in the path of the real killer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now for an excerpt: 

Jack was an intentional man who rarely did anything that didn’t serve a purpose. When he trained his shrewd green eyes upward, I realized it had been his aim to touch me. My reaction to his hug earlier hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

Taking the swing next to him, I pushed off gently and moved back and forth. 

“How long are you going to be home this time?” he asked. There was no reservation in his voice - no indication there had been a break or shift in our friendship. His easy way belied the fact that we hadn’t spoken in over two years.

Shrugging, I said, “Dunno, a couple of weeks I guess. I figure it will take that long to settle Ava’s affairs - sell the house and do something with the salon.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him, and an awkward silence settled between us as an afternoon breeze whistled and tossed dry leaves across the yard. We shared the same birth date, but at thirty-eight, there was wisdom in Jack’s face that made him seem wiser than his years. 

I sighed and looked at the sky before speaking. “I’m sorry for not staying in touch.”

He took a sip of coffee and nodded toward me. “And.”

“And…” I hesitated, “you are… my best friend, and you deserve more than that.” 

He rolled his eyes. “And... you are going to tell me why you disappeared without a word for two years.”

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head slowly before looking at him. “No,” I said quietly. “Not yet. I will tell you one day but not right now.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About the Author:

K. S. David lives in the Mid-Atlantic with her husband, their three children and a menagerie of pets.

New storylines are constantly running through her head and she keeps notebooks tucked in pockets of the car, the nightstand and makes voice recordings just about all day long. She's addicted to true life mysteries and crime shows, both of which marry well with a great romance. Some of her favorite things are long walks, reading in bed, baking and of course, writing her next novel.

http://kurdymay.wix.com/k-s-david-romance

https://twitter.com/ksdavidromance


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Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Smut by the Sea is Coming!


This year will be the third Smut by the Sea at Scarborough Library and it’s bigger and better than ever before with a schedule filled with sexy, seaside shenanigans.  This year’s event is sponsored by Sexhibition, the brand new and innovative Sex expo to be held in Manchester this August. Smut UK will be there, you should be too!

On the 23rd May 2015 Smut UK will take over the upstairs of Scarborough library from 9am -5pm with workshops, performances and more to delight you. All day you will be able to indulge in the delights of the erotic market place. Get your homemade gifts and treats from Bella Settarra, and Cara Sutra will be giving away goody bags and selling sexy treats including DVDs, bondage gear and lube. Pick up a book from the Smutty book stall, check out Steph’s Ann Summers table and of course you must have a go on the world famous Erotic Tombola, you never know what you might win. 


There will be two reading slams filled with top quality authors, make sure you come and listen to Cara Sutra, Janine Ashbless, Kiki DeLovely, Charlie J Forrest , Bella Settarra, , Anna Sky
Slave Nano, Cameryn Moore, Helen J Perry, Ashe Barker, Jacqueline Brocker, Ashley R Lister, Lisabet Sarai, and Victoria Blisse as they read 5 minute excerpts for your aural pleasure.


Three diverse workshops will take place though out the day, Jennifer Denys will be leading one on researching and writing Werewolf stories, Slave Nano will be Kinking up the Past in his historical and sexy workshop and Cameryn Moore, professional potty mouth will be talking dirty to filth up your fiction or steam up your sex life.

And as if that’s not enough there will be performances from the Enchanting Bea Noir and the sensual Blue Belle and those brave enough can pick up a Free Spanking from Mistress Cara Sutra!

Tickets are still available including a VIP package that includes a sexy goody bag filled with treats, your lunch and priority seating in all workshops, performances and slams. 

Monday, May 11, 2015

Book Blast Virtual Tour ~ Love, Loss and Longing in the Age of Reagan by Iris Dorbian

It's time for a book blast! Woo hoo! This one features the book, Love, Loss and Longing in the Age of Reagan, by Iris Dorbian. Check it out. You'll want to comment, too. Why? Iris Dorbian will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. You can follow the tour here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/04/book-blast-love-loss-and-longing-in-age.html

LOVE, LOSS, AND LONGING IN THE AGE OF REAGAN: DIARY OF A MAD CLUB GIRL
by Iris Dorbian

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's the early 1980s, MTV is in its infancy, the Internet does not exist, Ronald Reagan is president and yuppies are ruling Wall Street. Edie is a naïve NYU student desperate to lose her virginity and to experience adventure that will finally make her worldly, setting her further apart from her bland suburban roots. But in her quest to mold herself into an ideal of urban sophistication, the New Jersey-born co-ed gets more than she bargained for, triggering a chain of events that will have lasting repercussions.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  
And now for an excerpt:

The following week I looked at my grades and knew I had to do a serious overhaul if I wanted to get into NYU. Sure, NYU was not the Ivy League but it was a respectable institution of higher learning and a menu of B’s, C’s and one D (for geometry) wasn't going to admit me into Valhalla. I needed to get straight A’s or else.

Until my sophomore year, straight A’s were the norm for me. But then feeling bored and listless with my sheltered suburban lifestyle, I fell in with a crowd of misfit kids, potheads and pill-poppers, some dropouts, others permanently jaded with the status quo—all railing against authority.

Before I was the archetypal geek who dutifully read every assignment, handed in homework on time and always raised her hand in class. Afterwards, my daily regimen consisted of cutting classes and getting high in the bathroom with my new pals.

Sometimes we’d bolt from the premises altogether to go to Paramus Park Mall, where we’d drop speed in the bathroom before driving back to catch the last class or two.

That soon changed when I made going to NYU and moving to my Shangri-La, the Village, my all-consuming goal. I removed myself from the dead-end clique and got back on the academic track. Soon my mediocre grades were replaced with straight A’s.

In the late winter of my senior year, my guidance counselor collared me in the hallway before I made my way to algebra. He told me that he had just gotten off the phone with NYU admissions. They had accepted me and I was going to get a pretty nice financial aid package. I don’t think anything else stuck in the hollows of my brain the remainder of the school year.
           
Moving to the Village to attend NYU in September of 1979 was more than just a fulfillment of a teen goal: It would be a watershed in an incomplete life, introducing me to three
relationships that would haunt me like a specter long after they were over, leaving me with an emotional legacy that I would never get over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About the Author: 

Iris Dorbian is a former actress turned business journalist/blogger. Her articles have appeared in a wide number of outlets that include the Wall Street Journal, Reuters, Venture Capital Journal, DMNews, Playbill, Backstage, Theatermania, Live Design, Media Industry Newsletter and PR News. From 1999 to 2007, Iris was the editor-in-chief of Stage Directions. She is the author of “Great Producers: Visionaries of the American Theater," which was published by Allworth Press in August 2008. Her personal essays have been published in Blue Lyra Review, B O D Y, Embodied Effigies, Jewish Literary Journal, Skirt! Diverse Voices Quarterly and Gothesque Magazine.

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