Book Blitz: Witch Way by Sarah Cass

Book: Witch Way
Series: Holidays in Lake Point #4
Author: Sarah Cass
Publisher: Divine Roses Ink
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Felicity Holt has one ambition—to be an on-air reporter. After a lifetime of teasing and taunts of being one of the witches in Lake Points infamous Witch House, she wants to be known as more. When it comes to men, she beds them and leaves them, because it’s far safer than getting tangled in a relationship. When Craig McAlister, one of her childhood tormenters, returns to town, all of her ambitions and rules get turned on their head. 

When Craig manages to nab the coveted spot of Assistant Chief in the Lake Point fire department he returns home. Seeing Felicity again stirs up an old crush, and the more he gets to know her, the more he wants to be more than a fling. 

Opportunity and ambition rear their head and put Felicity and Craig’s relationship on the line. Felicity risks everything to pursue her dream. Will reaching her goal be worth the risk of losing Craig’s love?

***All books in Holidays at Lake Point are standalone reads.

What Others Are Saying About Witch Way

This book was fabulous. Excellent writing. The storyline was right on point and reading this book will bring out many emotions. Great great read!!! ~Julie Minton

The story of Felicity and Craig is breathtaking. You will not only be wanting to laugh but you feel the desire. The details are very well written and you will not be disappointed. It is a very fast paced and easy read that will play through your head like a movie. This series will keep you interested and highly entertained. Each book is placed around a holiday. The title goes along with each holiday. This book Witch Way goes with Halloween. Each book can be a stand alone and will not need to be read in order.~Amanda Hamilton

***Reviews can be found on Amazon

Holidays in Lake Point Series
Santa, Maybe
Deep-Fried Sweethearts
Stalled Independence
Witch Way 

A Thorough Thanksgiving
Eve’s New Year 
Heartstrings & Hockey Pucks 
Luck of the Cowgirl 
Stars, Stripes & Motorbikes
Free Falling
Love For Hire
Haunted Hearts

About Sarah Cass

Sarah Cass’ world is regularly turned upside down by her three special needs kids and loving mate, so she breaks genre barriers; dabbling in horror, straight fiction and urban fantasy.  She loves historicals and romance, and characters who are real and flawed, so she writes to understand what makes her fictional people tick.  And she lives for a happy ending – eventually. And enough twists to make it look like she enjoys her title of Queen of Trauma Drama a little too much.

An ADD tendency leaves her with a variety of interests that include singing, dancing, crafting, cooking, and being a photographer. She fights through the struggles of the day, knowing the battles are her crucible; she may emerge scarred, but always stronger.  The rhythms to her activities drive her words forward, pushing her through the labyrinths of the heart and the nightmares of the mind, driving her to find resolutions to her characters’ problems.

While busy creating worlds and characters as real to her as her own family, she leads an active online life with her blog, Redefining Perfect, which gives a real and sometimes raw glimpse into her life and art.  You can most often find her popping out her 140 characters in Twitter speak, and on Facebook.
Stalk Sarah Cass


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Excerpt Reveal: Machine by Normandie Alleman




Title: Machine: A Bad Boy Romance
Series: Barnes Family #2
Author: Normandie Alleman
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 19, 2016


The Queen of Reality TV meets the Kingpin of Porn

She’s trying to clean up her act.
He’ s a purveyor of filth.
It will never work.
But don’t tell them that.

Dynassy Barnes isn’t known for her big heart.

She is, however, known for her heart-shaped ass and the selfies she shares with her army of social media followers. So when she meets a handsome former SEAL, she thinks she may have scored a love connection and a way to redeem her reputation with fans.

Bridger Thompson is a man of many secrets.

When an explosion in Iraq damaged his ability to satisfy his then-fiance, he never dreamed the machine he built to carry out his husbandly duties would turn into a business featuring women pleasuring themselves with it on camera. A business that could never be associated with The Barnes’ Family, the darlings of reality TV.

But Dynassy stirs a desire Bridger hasn’t felt in years, and he’s dead set on laying claim to the famous beauty—even though he fears he won’t be able to love her the way she deserves.

For that, he’d need to become a MACHINE.


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“So, I’m not a stranger?” Bridger teased.When he held me in his arms like that, the last thing he felt like was a stranger.

“No,” I managed shyly. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was around him. He and I came from different worlds, but his embrace seemed like the safest place in the world. I suspected those big strong arms that just pulled me around the dance floor could protect me better than any man I’d ever met.

“Want to dance some more?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded enthusiastically.

We whirled across the floor, his hand on the small of my back guiding me, the muscles on the back of his neck pulsing under my fingertips. He smelled better than I would have dreamed—a combination of sandalwood and leather that spurred a sense of longing that made me imagine kissing his earlobe.

But before I could summon the courage to do it, the band stopped playing, and Bridger grabbed my hand. “Ready?”

I was ready for anything he wanted, so I said, “Sure.”

He walked me out to the parking lot and stood by an old gray pickup truck. That didn’t surprise me, but when he opened the passenger door to the eggplant-colored Dodge Viper next to it, I was caught off guard.

“I thought—” I started, but then tried to stop myself before I said something stupid, or worse, insulting.

He chuckled. “That the pickup was mine?”

I smiled, but didn’t answer.

“I get it.” Then he mumbled something about an inheritance and got behind the wheel. So, the mechanic, who’d been wounded in combat and was a SEAL no less, was also an heir of some sort. The better I got to know Bridger, the more I realized he was much more complicated than I’d originally thought.

There was a lot more to him than that deliciously curly brown hair and those piercing green eyes.


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 Author Bio
A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. A shamelessly proud basketball mom, Normandie lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull. If you’d like up to the minute new release info on Normandie’s books text RACYREADS to 24587 (Use all CAPS).
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Free! KU Chimera by Stephie Walls

Title: chimera
Author: Stephie Walls
Genre: Adult, Dark Romance
Published: May 11, 2016

CHIMERA © Stephie Walls 2016

Chapter One
When Sylvie died, it left a hole in my being that seemed prodigious. I adorn my face with the plastic appearance people anticipate from me, but internally, I weep. Continuing through the monotonous motion of my daily life, I increasingly find myself lost in what my friends—well, those who remain—refer to as a fictional world: novels, authors, artists, musicians, and the illusion of relationships on social media. The more time I spend on Facebook, the more entrenched I become in the fiction that exists on the screen. I believe these “friends” are truly concerned for me; they’re what relationships are in reality. Sadly, these seem to be the only things keeping me hanging on, but the thread threatens to break daily, frayed from top to bottom. The tightly woven fabric that was once my life has deteriorated beyond recognition.
That’s the crux of my juxtaposition. My life had value, it had meaning. It was everything I had ever imagined it could be. But without Sylvie, black clouds roll through my mind, hindering my ability to think, eliminating productivity, and stifling my creativity. My art is as dead as I am. But online…online I can be anything I want to be, whatever version of myself I decide to show to the world. I don’t have to be the pathetic artist who lost his muse. I don’t have to be the sweet, sensitive man Sylvie loved. I don’t know whom I want to reinvent myself as, but the idea of being whatever still exists in my soul doesn’t appeal to me. My craft has become recreating my persona, anything to escape the pain, the desolation, and the solitude. Surely there’s art in recreating an identity.
Most days, I find it difficult to even get out of bed. The colder it gets outside, the shorter the days are, the deeper I sink—sometimes only escaping the protection of my covers to take a piss or get something to eat or drink. Although frequently, I let those things go in favor of marinating in my misery. My laptop calls to me from my nightstand when the loneliness becomes too much to bear, the darkness too black to see through.
That recognizable blue-and-white screen brings me comfort, the newsfeed seemingly a link to real conversation, touching base with the people I’ve known for years—but it always introduces the possibility of newcomers. The “friend recommendation” is the online equivalent to a friend introducing you to someone new; at least it is in my mind. I always check out the recommendations. They’re often other painters or singers that might have known Sylvie—or people I barely recognize from high school or college. But every once in a while, some totally random person surfaces with no tie to my past.
Those are the connections I find most interesting, most appealing.
They also seem to be the safest, having no knowledge of the person I once was, or how all that remains of me is a fragmented shell. I have made several “friends” this way, people I would say I’m close to—even though we’ve never met and likely never will. Herein lies my fictional world, the one my real friends don’t understand and believe to be emotionally damaging to me. I’m not processing my grief…blah, blah, blah. If I hear that shit one more time, I may scream.
As soon as I log in, the familiar recommendations bombard me as if the universe is playing some cruel joke. There she is, my Sylvie…only her name is Sera Martin. She’s a perfect duplicate with the same striking green eyes, long chestnut-colored hair, high cheekbones, and luscious, pouty lips.
I realize I haven’t inhaled or exhaled.
I gasp and hold my breath until my lungs burn. I haven’t seen her in years. The day she died, I came home and stripped our house of any reminder—every picture, every video, every stitch of clothing, anything she loved. It all had to leave. I couldn’t bear the weight of what the world took from me. I imagined if I discarded everything, she wouldn’t haunt me, and maybe, somehow, I would manage to learn to live again if reminders of her didn’t surround me.
Yet, her loss possesses me daily.
This girl. This Sera. Could this be Mother Nature returning my Sylvie to me in a strange twist of fate? The notion there’s a doppelganger roaming the world has always been a thought I believe in. It’s possible after years of suffering, dying inside, barely hanging on, that my savior has come. Without hesitation, I click “add friend.”
Sera responds to my request with a private message.
Sera: Wow! Are you really Bastian Thames?
Me: Yes. Have we met before?
Sera: Once, but I doubt you’d remember. It was at a gallery down on the West End where your work was being featured a couple years ago. Is this the real Bastian? Not some lurker claiming to be the famous artist?
Me: Far cry from famous, but yes, one and the same. Are you certain we met that night? I remember the opening and can assure you I would have remembered you.
Sera: Yes, you were with your wife. She’s quite lovely. I’m not sure which was more beautiful, her or the nudes you had in the collection. That showing was the talk of the art community for months around here.
Me: That was the last opening I did. Seems like a lifetime ago.
Sera: Are you not painting anymore? I hate to admit that I lost track of your work when I went off to college but for years, I was a huge fan.
Me: Life happened. I haven’t painted in some time.
Sera: I can’t imagine you quit painting. Surely you just quit putting them out for the public.
Me: No. I haven’t so much as held a brush in five years.
Sera: That’s a shame. Hey look, Bastian, I have to run out but I accepted your request. I hope maybe we can talk some later. Maybe you’ll let me pick your brain about a project I’m working on?
Me: Certainly. I hope to hear from you soon.
Sera: Bye
Me: Later
My mind races with possibilities. I immediately go to her profile to see what information I can garner on her before our next conversation—assuming one comes. Jesus, she’s twenty-five, went to the Rhode Island School of Design, graduated with her Masters in Fine Arts, and holy hell, she’s a sculptor. If these pictures are of her work, then she has phenomenal talent. Scouring her profile provides only surface-level information. There’s almost nothing personal. The pictures all seem to be with other artists or at galleries or in a studio. Moving to her wall, I find tons of posts by other local artists, memes about artwork, jokes…the proverbial Facebook bullshit.
I almost quit scrolling when I see a post that grabs my attention. There’s a picture of two beautiful women, scantily clad, one bent over, the other yielding a paddle, and the words, “Someone’s been a bad girl.” Jesus Christ. There are one hundred forty-seven comments and two hundred fifty-three likes on the thread posted by a Maria Martin.
I click on Maria’s name first, assuming it will be a sister or cousin, not expecting it to be her mother. Holy shit, whose mother posts this kind of profanity on their daughter’s Facebook wall? Making my way back to the thread, I find myself enthralled by the dialogue.
It’s cheeky and playful but talk about insight. This one picture, one conversation, tells me scads about who she is personally, not about her work, but seemingly what she enjoys—intimately. Reading her responses to the comments ignites a fire in an area of my anatomy I thought had died with Sylvie. As my cock starts to twitch, that old, familiar heat seeps through my crotch.
I stop myself, realizing I’m staring at dialogue—about a woman who could be my dead wife’s twin—between people I don’t know. It’s morbid, really. Backing out of the comments and Sera’s profile, then I set the computer aside. I don’t close the laptop for fear of missing a message from her. Lying back, I stare at the all-too-familiar ceiling. I know every blemish on the drywall with aching familiarity. There have been hours of loneliness and isolation. The depth of pain is so fathomless, I often wonder how I made it to the next day without feeling the cold steel in my hand, without pulling the trigger.

I’ve lived all over the country but have made Greenville, South Carolina my home for the last 20 of my 37 years. I have a serious addiction to anything Coach and would live on Starbucks if I could get away with it. If you follow me on Facebook you’ll also find that I’m slightly enamored with Charlie Hunnam. I’m an avid reader (literary whore to be more precise) averaging around 300 novels a year. I have a penchant for great love stories, sensual poetry and am a romantic at heart.

I currently work full-time in the Greenville area and fill my “extra” time with writing contemporary romance novels with a hint of erotica. I couldn’t do it without the support of my family and friends who push me to keep going when I don’t have the confidence or patience.

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Excerpt Reveal: Unsportsmanlike Conduct by Sophia Henry

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Sophia Henry
Pilots Hockey; Book 4
Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
Release Date: October 18, 2016
Published by: Random House Flirt
The author of Delayed Penalty returns with the story of a free spirit who believes she’s found forever with a playboy on a singles cruise. Discover why Kelly Jamieson calls the Pilots Hockey series “fun and flirty, warm and sweet.”
Kristen Katsaros wants a life full of adventure and laughter. After a difficult childhood, her motto is to live each day like it’s her last—because it just might be. So when Kristen’s parents send her on a post-grad singles cruise in the Caribbean to meet a Greek husband, she promptly hooks up with the hottest guy she’s ever met. Pasha’s decidedly not Greek, but Kristen gives him a pass because he’s got fun written all over his rock-hard abs.
Pavel Gribov, the cocky playboy of the Detroit Pilots hockey team, can score any girl he wants. But when a teammate drags him on a singles cruise, he can’t resist the chance to help out a drop-dead gorgeous damsel in distress by pretending to be her boyfriend. Before long, the fake fling turns intimate, fueled by something much deeper than lust.
Kristen and Pasha both agree to walk away once the cruise is over, but reality hits like a slap shot when Kristen finds out Pasha lied about everything. Just when she’s ready to start living again, the two stubborn survivors must decide if they can bear to lose the best thing that ever happened to either of them.


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Pre-order Links:
Amazon US : AU : CA : UK


Chapter 1


Day 1
Cruising in the Caribbean


Is there anything more perfect than breathing in the salty scent of the ocean while jogging around the top deck of a cruise ship in ninety-degree weather?
Well, sure, seventy-five degrees would have been a better temperature for running, but I wasn’t complaining.
Sweat glistened on my arms and a gentle wind blew the flyaway strands of hair away from my face as my feet pounded the track.
Mental fist bump to my parents. They’d succeeded in their quest to find me the perfect college graduation gift, even if I hadn’t realized it at first. When they presented me with a printout of an itinerary for a cruise a few months ago, my first reaction was complete and utter terror, because the mere thought of being on a large body of water with no land in sight gave me hives. But I didn’t want my amazing parents to think I didn’t appreciate their generous gift, so I kept it inside and went along with the planning.
And so there I was. Sea breeze in my hair, a cardio remix of Lil Wayne’s “How to Love” blasting through my earbuds, and a tropical destination. Nothing could ruin this moment.
Except the familiar face of the person running toward me. Which sent my version of personal paradise plummeting to the ocean floor. Because in this case, “familiar” and “welcome” were not synonymous.
Maybe Spiros hadn’t recognized me. Maybe I could pretend I didn’t see him.
“Kristen!” he called.
Not even paradise could deter Murphy’s Law.
So I did what any smart girl who wanted to avoid her friendly stalker would do: I spun around, and ran the opposite way, putting more distance between us.
Note: When the self-proclaimed “smart girl” is unfamiliar with the territory where she is running, glancing over her shoulder to see if Spiros was still there is not the best idea. Because within three strides, I smacked into another runner.
Not a light, whoops-sorry-I-bumped-you collision. A head-on, semi-to-semi crash, where both bodies lay crumpled in a pile of twisted, burning limbs.
Burning, not only because the scorching Caribbean sun pounded on us from above, but also because the other semi had the body of a Greek god.
No joke.
As a good Greek girl on a singles cruise set up by my Greek Orthodox church and paid for by my straight-off-the-boat Greek parents, I knew Greek gods. And the hunk of muscle I’d knocked into was Adonis in the flesh.
Instead of scrambling to my feet, I found my gaze frozen on his face. Particularly on the sexy scruff dusting his upper lip and jawline. His twelve o’clock shadow was a distinct contrast to the absence of hair on his chiseled chest. Even the sweat rolling off the tip of his nose didn’t detract from his perfection, nor did the red undertone in his sun-kissed skin, flushed from running in the heat.
“Dude!” I exclaimed, yanking the earbuds from my ears. Then I broke into a cough and couldn’t stop.
Adonis picked up his sunglasses, which must’ve fallen when we crashed, and replaced them over his eyes. He waited until I finished my coughing fit before speaking. “Maybe you need to pay attention, since you were running the wrong way on this track, yes?”
“I didn’t—” I couldn’t finish my thought. I was still trying to catch my breath as I considered the situation: Adonis knocked me down, and he had the audacity to blame me?
“Well, if you were going the right way, why didn’t you run around me?” I asked breathlessly.
“I was playing chicken.”
“Excuse me?” Who says something like that?
He jumped to his feet. “I waited to see if you would back off first. You call this game chicken, yes?” He bent down and held out his hand.
At least he had some manners. I clasped his hand and allowed him to pull me up, impressed at the lack of effort it took him to lift me.
“Common courtesy dictates that people don’t usually play chicken while running.” I brushed a palm over my butt, even though the track seemed fairly debris-free.
He drew the back of his hand across his hairline, wiping away a film of moisture. “I think this same common courtesy dictates that people don’t look over their shoulder when they run.”
True. Technically, my poorly planned attempt to escape Spiros’s approach caused the collision.
“I’m sorry I ran into you,” I said.
“Are you also sorry because you were running the wrong way?”
“Who are you, the track police?” I asked, resting my hands on my hips and leaning away from him, my breath finally under control.
“This track has rules. Today we run this way.” He pointed in the direction I’d originally started running. Then I followed his finger as it traveled in another direction, stopping at a red sign with the heading track rules in thick white letters.
Who pays attention to what day it is or obnoxiously large signs about rules when they’re on a cruise?
“Well, I’m really sorry. I got flustered. I’m trying to avoid that guy running toward us.” I nodded slightly toward Spiros, who had caught up to us by now.
Yep. Spiros Loukas, my annoying admirer, who’d also been running the wrong way on the track, stood at my heels. Just like at home.
Paradise lost.
I can’t explain why my protective instincts kicked in for the gorgeous girl who’d just slammed into me, but when the out-of-shape oaf she’d been avoiding reached out to place his thick, dirty hand on her, I jumped into action.
Without a second thought, I stepped forward and slid my arm around her slim waist, placing myself between the girl and the man who’d chased her straight into me.
“Kristen, are you okay?” the guy asked, panting.
The slob must’ve jacked up his speed when he saw the collision. It seemed a little sad that such a short burst took so much out of him. He needed to get in shape if he wanted to impress anyone.
“I’m fine. I had this rock of a pillow to fall on.” She swatted my stomach with the back of her hand, causing my muscles to involuntarily contract under her touch.
“Wanna join me for a few laps?” the man asked her, completely disregarding me.
But I’m not the type of guy who lets himself be ignored. “Who are you?” I demanded.
“I should be asking you that question,” he countered.
“I’m her boyfriend,” I said.
Kristen, as the huffing man had called her, stiffened. I patted her waist, silently asking her to go along with the scheme I’d quickly concocted.
“Excuse me?” He ran a hand through his unkempt brown hair as his beady eyes shifted back and forth between me and Kristen.
“You gonna tell him or should I smash his face?” I asked.
“We’ve been, um,” she stammered, “seeing each other?”
Her voice rose slightly, which would have made me smile if I hadn’t had to scare off the stupid fuck who didn’t realize this poor girl was running away from him. At least she was quick enough to go along with the story I’d created to help her.
“What? Since when?” he asked. “Who is this guy?”
I squeezed the tiny girl into my sweat-soaked side and felt her bare skin against mine. A quick glance down told me her hot pink shirt had ridden up to reveal a tight, toned waist. It made me want to get sweaty with her. And not by running together.
“He is not your business. What are you even doing here?” she asked, effectively taking the spotlight off me.
The quickness with which she regained her composure intrigued me, as if she was a pro at going along crazy schemes with no preparation.
“I signed up for this cruise months ago,” the man said defensively. “After your parents—” He stopped and shook his head. “I hoped we could spend some time together.”
My body tensed, but I kept my arm around Kristen, my hand still resting on her hip. She allowed me to stay close.
“It’s a singles cruise. Go meet someone.” She paused. “Someone new.”
“Or I’ll smash your face,” I promised. My fingers slipped down and skimmed her backside before curling into a fist behind her. Kristen reached around and swatted at my hand until I returned it to her waist. She’d obviously gotten the wrong idea about my accidental ass contact.
Dough Boy didn’t speak, but his eyebrows slid closer together as his head swiveled from Kristen to me. I tried to keep my expression neutral, which was hard because this guy had to be an idiot not to realize that she didn’t want him to bother her. It had taken me less than two minutes to figure it out.
When neither Kristen nor I caved, his sloped shoulders dropped. Then he sighed and spun around, heading straight for the elevator instead of resuming his run.
Once he was out of sight, I reluctantly released my hold on Kristen’s waist. “Why are you trying to avoid him? Other than the obvious.”
A soft sweet laugh escaped from her deep pink lips, a trait shared by many of the beautiful Greek American girls surrounding me on the ship.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Possessive creep.”
“Kinda like a stranger who randomly puts his arm around my waist and claims to be my boyfriend?” she countered.
Her sarcastic comment didn’t put me off, because there was no conviction in her delivery. None of the animosity she’d been projecting toward Dough Boy came across toward me, just a feistiness I appreciated. I enjoy people who challenge me.
“I saved you,” I reminded her.
“You did, actually.” She adjusted the front of her shirt, peeling the fabric away from her sweaty skin. “Why would you do that?”
“I am a gentleman,” I said. Saying the words reminded me to lift my gaze from her tight stomach back to her beautiful face. “I guess American girls are not used to this,” I added before abruptly leaving her to continue my run.
I didn’t pursue women. They came to me because it was their foolish life goal to “land” a hockey player. No challenge. No connection. No love. Just a girl who wanted the status of being with me. Needless to say, we’d have fun, but there was no future. There was never even a second time.
Usually my protective instincts emerged only when it came to my family—including my sister, Katia, and her best friend, Svetlana, who was like a second sister. But something about Kristen made me jump between her and Dough Boy. She didn’t know who I was or what I did for a living. And she’d never stood outside the team’s locker room or waited for me to show up at my favorite bar, so I had anonymity on my side.
If Katia had been here, she would’ve teased me for the caveman-like growls that had rumbled in my throat as I stood toe to toe with Kristen’s stalker.
The Caribbean sun must have been melting my brain, because this Kristen girl was not my sister, just a stranger in obvious distress. And I couldn’t blame Dough Boy for trying to get with her, because she was by far the most gorgeous girl I’d seen on this boat.
When Blake Panikos, my good friend and teammate on the Charlotte Aviators hockey team, had first invited me on a cruise set up by a conglomerate of Greek Orthodox churches in the metro Detroit area, I immediately declined. Despite being raised by Russian Orthodox parents, I’m not a religious person. The thought of being stuck on a boat with a group of religious fanatics made me want to chop off my dick with a hacksaw.
But Blake, who had been recently divorced, kept needling me to go. After various attempts to sway me into taking the trip with him, he finally sold me when he showed me some of the girls who would be on the cruise. He pulled up his Instagram account and scrolled through pictures of the girls he’d met at the church he frequented when we played together in Detroit on Charlotte’s minor-league affiliate team. Flipping through photo after photo of the most gorgeous Greek girls Detroit had to offer sealed the deal. A week in the Caribbean surrounded by sexy singles looking to hook up was worth the effort it took to relearn the sign of the cross.


~~~~Also available in the Pilots Hockey Series ~~~~


Pilots Hockey; Book 1
Release Date: September 1, 2015





Pilots Hockey; Book 2
Release Date: February 16, 2016





Pilots Hockey; Book 3
Release Date: June 7, 2016





Meet Sophia Henry:


Sophia Henry, a proud Detroit native, fell in love with reading, writing, and hockey all before she became a teenager. She did not, however, fall in love with snow. So after graduating with a BS in English from Central Michigan University, she moved to the warmth of North Carolina for the remainder of her winters.


She spends her days writing books featuring hot, hockey-playing heroes. When she’s not writing, she’s chasing her two high-energy sons, watching her beloved Detroit Red Wings and rocking out at concerts with her husband.




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Book Blitz: Didn’t I Warn You by Amber Bardan

Title: Didn’t I Warn You
Series: A Bad For You Novel
Author: Amber Bardan
Genre: Romantic Thriller/Suspense
Not everything dangerous is bad.
From the moment Angelina laid eyes on him, she fell into a fantasy. Mysterious, foreign, gorgeous, Haithem offered her what she needed most—a chance to feel again.

But Haithem is much more than he appears to be. He lives in a world of danger where everything comes at a price.
For Angelina, that price is her future.
He’s made sure the life she’s left behind is in tatters. Made her family believe she’s dead. Still, he talks about protecting her, about keeping her safe, but she can’t distinguish his truth from his lies. She can’t separate her pleasure from his betrayal. 
Haithem warned her. He told her he’d make her heart race, her body come alive, and her most primal needs rush to the surface. His for the taking.
He didn’t say she’d come to love the devil who’s destroying her, even as he keeps her prisoner.

After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fuelled adrenaline haze, writing romance with a thriller edge. 

She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.

Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.

Find out more about Amber by visiting



Book Blitz: Love Happens Series by Jodi Watters



 Jodi Watters’ Love Happens series have brand new covers!
Next to Me and Wrong Then Right are both standalone full-length novels with no cliffhangers but have reoccurring characters.
Title: Next to Me
Series: Love Happens #1
Author: Jodi Watters
 Release Date: October 16, 2014


The past is hot on her heels.

On the run and out of options, a desperate Ali Ross knows two things for sure…
Her ugly past will eventually catch up to her. And when it does, she’ll need a strong and loyal man to help her face the danger head on or risk losing everything. Including her freedom.The girl is hard on his heart.

Looking for love and having no luck, former Army Ranger Sam Gleeson knows two things for sure…

His mysterious new neighbor is wreaking havoc on his heart. And her sweet and seductive charm is playing a captivating game with his head. Despite her secrets.Hiding from a violent ex-husband, Ali knows the law can’t help her. She also knows someone like Sam can. Fearing for her life, she hatches a shamelessly impulsive plan that’s as old as time. She’s willing to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety, and that includes doing the sexy soldier next door. But when their searing chemistry blazes so hot it burns them both, Ali’s hidden agenda seals an unimaginable fate.




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Title: Wrong Then Right
Series: Love Happens #2
Author: Jodi Watters
 Release Date: May 15, 2015


Hope Coleson is having a doozy of a day.
Wrongly terminated from her menial waitressing job? Check
Abruptly evicted from her run down apartment with prime views of a graffiti painted dumpster? Double check.
Thoroughly bedded by a smoking hot man with smooth moves and zero communication skills? Triple X check.
And it doesn’t end there. Estranged family members are showing up like bad pennies, her precious savings account has been wiped clean, and she may or may not have a stalker.
So what’s a desperate girl to do, but try her hand at love?

Retired Navy SEAL Beckett Smith doesn’t make mistakes.
Yes, he drinks his way to the bottom of a beer bottle or six, on one too many occasions.
Sure, he’s a well-educated man who prefers to communicate at a level only slighter higher than your average poodle.
And yeah, he lost his legendary control and slept with his boss’s sister, stripping her of more than just her clothes before making a quick getaway.Only it doesn’t end there. Isolation isn’t providing the peace he’s seeking, the boss he considers a friend is ready to hand him a beat down and a pink slip, and the girl he can’t stop thinking about is suddenly parked on his doorstep. So what’s a jaded guy to do, but take a chance on love?



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Author Bio
My love for steamy romance began when I was in junior high. A friend and I came upon a dumpster of discarded paperbacks behind our small town’s Ben Franklin store. The covers were missing and each book was torn in two, split right down the center of the spline, but I found that to be no obstacle as I scanned each page looking for any love or lust words—and curse words, too. It wasn’t long before I was scouring the public library and our local discount store, devouring anything labeled romance. I said a tearfully grateful goodbye to Judy Bloom as Jackie Collins began ruling my world.I live with my high school sweetheart turned husband and our three, beloved DVR’s, in the desert Southwest. Otherwise known as the surface of the sun during the summer months.

My life long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually weigh what my driver’s license states I do. And I have been contemplating a hair color change for the last decade. I’m thinking red.


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Book Blitz: The Bastard Son by Jerri Hines


The Bastard Son
by Jerri Hines
Series: Winds of Change, #2
Genre: Historical Romance
Cover Designer:  Erin Dameron-Hill at edhGraphics
Release Date: July 26, 2016



Sumner Meador walked in a world of wealth and privilege as part of Charles Town’s elite, but that was years ago. Now he fights in the Southern backwoods driven by the passion he holds for the Patriot cause, shadowed by his past. Reeling from a devastating defeat at the hands of the British, Sumner seeks haven at his farm, only to find an interloper—an unwelcome and unwanted distraction. He has no time for the young woman or the complications she brings with her, but soon discovers he has no option but to give aid to the stubborn, courageous beauty whether she wants it or not.

Jane Kilmer has been violently thrust into the midst of the civil war ensuing in the backwoods. Hiding from one of the most dangerous vigilantes, Jane trusts no one. Suddenly, she has no choice but to put her life in Sumner’s hands. Both desire revenge, but neither wants what happens—to fall completely, undeniably in love with each other. As the war rages around them, their love is put to the ultimate test. The question becomes not whether their love will survive, but will they.

Author’s Note: This book was previously published with Whiskey Creek Press as Another Night Falls under the Tides of Charleston Series.



Night had fallen. Everything had been set for the evening. The horses fed; the dishes cleaned. Warren promised to bring a cow next time out, although Sumner didn’t see the necessity since he wasn’t planning to be around here for long. But there again, the girl might enjoy fresh milk.Jane prepared another fine meal for supper. She was a good cook, but he expected she had cooked from an early age.

Walking back from the barn, he found her sitting on the porch, smiling up at him. In the fading light, she looked beautiful. She had taken off her cap, leaving her hair down in a braid over her shoulder.

For the life of him, he couldn’t get the thought of having her in his arms out of his head, with her firm breasts pressed against him…her body arching instinctively to his.

Warren hadn’t even suggested it would be harmful to leave a young, innocent in his care. Perhaps, Warren thought it the lesser of the evils in her life.

“Thank you for the supper, Jane. I was thinking of retiring for the night.”

“I will do so shortly.” Rising, she moved over to the railing and stared out into the coming night.

Go, leave her. Instead, he came up behind her. “Are you feeling well? I know you still have the effects of the bump upon your head.”

“I have recovered,” she whispered. “It is not what bothers me. I feel so lost. I had thought I would at least have my grandfather’s land after…”

“We are working on a plan to remove you from this area. I know of people where you would be safe and won’t have to worry until after this war is finally over.”

Turning, her eyes met his. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It isn’t pity I feel for you.” With the words, all his good intentions dissipated with a strong craving to have her back in his arms. He gently caressed her cheek. “Run, Jane, from me.”

She made no movement to leave him. She lifted her face up to his. He needed nothing else for his lips to descend upon hers. He would have stopped if she pulled away. She did not.

His kiss deepened, devouring her with his lips. His hand lowered, caressing and smoothing along the curves of her body.

“I want you, Jane,” he whispered. “More than I have ever wanted another. You feel it also…this longing between us. Tell me you do.”

“Yes, Sumner, yes.”

He talked no more, but swept her in his arms and answered the dictates of his body. In quick strides, they were in the bedroom, making quick work of the barrier that lay between their bodies and their desire.




Book One: The Governor’s Daughter



Jerri Hines is an Amazon bestselling author of the Winds of the Betrayal series and Southern Legacy serial that were inspired by her fascination with history. She is a Southern gal who has lived the last thirty years near Boston with her Yankee husband. She believes in love and the power it holds. It is the reason she writes romances. Her next release under Jerri Hines will be the much anticipated conclusion to Winds of Betrayal, Set Fire To the Rain, coming in 2016.

She is also an Amazon Bestselling author under her penname, Colleen Connally. Her historical romance series, Secret Lives, is riddled with romantic suspense and a touch of paranormal. Fragmented, Book One Boston’s Crimes of Passion, marks her first contemporary suspense thriller. Framed, Book Two, will be released in 2016.

She is a supporter of The Home For Little Wanderers in Boston and the Alzheimer’s Association.


Jerri has limited spots open on her Street Team. If you are interested, please click here to send her an email.





Book Blitz: Inseverable by Cecy Robson




Title: Inseverable
Series: Carolina Beach #1
Author: Cecy Robson
Genre: Contemporary Romance/New Adult 
Release Date: June 21, 2016
How can you imagine forever with someone who’s leaving everything behind?Callahan, a former army sniper, wants to make an escape from his past and everything he experienced at war, but most of all, just not feel. Feeling leads to pain and he’s suffered enough. When he inherits a house on South Carolina’s Kiawah Island, he packs his bags, lured by the peace and seclusion he thinks it will bring. But, Callahan never counted on meeting anyone like Trinity . . .

Trinity has always been the cute, and funny one, who most guys overlook in pursuit of her “hot” friends. She became used to being everyone’s pal, until the day the young man she was attracted to, was drawn to her in return. He became her first great love, and first crushing heartbreak when she found him in bed with one of her closest friends.

To move forward, and to carry out her commitment to helping those in need, Trinity enlists in the Peace Corps, but not before returning to Kiawah for one last memorable summer. She just never imagined it would be so unforgettable.

Callahan doesn’t want to get close to anyone-let alone Trinity. He finds her perkiness insufferable and her attempts to entice a smile distracting. After all, he’s in Kiawah to leave all feelings behind. But when it comes to Trinity, who feels everything, it’s hard not to feel something.

Neither expected to fall in love. And no one could have predicted how inseverable they’d become.

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Three days.

That’s all I have left until this shit ends.

Three days shouldn’t feel like forever, not compared to the eight years I’ve bled to the Army. Thing is, good men have been killed in less time. In as quick as a blink, a squeeze of a trigger, or a small breath right before a grenade blows is all the time it takes to shove someone right out of life and well into death.

That’s what makes three days as long as it is. Three days is plenty of time to die.

My eyes tear when the wind picks up and shoots grime through the small hole of my lookout point. This blown out piece of cinderblock is only big enough to allow me a view of the street below, but not so small I don’t get smacked in the face with more filth. The tarp flaps above me as I spit out another layer of the dirt-sand mix spackling my teeth. Christ Almighty, I need a swig of the water resting near my elbow. But my thirst, like everything else has to wait.

I have a job to do.

I adjust my hips against the cracked cement of my bed, bathroom, and home all rolled into one, thankful that the agonizing ache stretching over the lower half of my body has settled into a now familiar numbness.

Out of all the points I’d scouted, and all the accumulated years spent in this position, I should be used to it. And in a strange way, it should almost be home. Yet nothing ever has been home.

But in three days, maybe something finally will be . . .

I shove my thoughts away and breathe as my fellow Rangers stalk along the street. It’s then I see them, a mother and daughter walking straight toward my team. Less than one city block separates them from the men counting on me to keep them alive.

The hell? How did they get past the other sniper unreported? Rogers is new on watch. But the quick paces these two are taking should have clued him in that something’s up. I train my scope on their faces; their expressions are blank, unreadable. ‘Cept that’s not what keeps my attention.

The little girl can’t be more than five. So why the fuck isn’t her mother holding her hand? I lift my radio and bark a warning, dropping it beside me as I lock my scope dead center on the woman’s head.

The radio crackles and Modreski chimes in, yelling at his team to hold their positions. He asks me what my plan is, knowing if something’s caused the short-hairs on my neck to rise, he and the boys damn well need to listen. But I don’t hear him, with a breath and a squeeze of the trigger, I leave a kid without a mother.

Just beneath the sleeve of her abayah―the dress completely covering her body―I see it, a detonator that would trigger the explosives likely strapped to her chest. A few Rangers I know―Simons and Boreman, rush forward. I start to mutter a curse, pissed at her for making me shoot her in front of her kid. But the curse lodges in my throat when I see the kid isn’t looking at her mother lying next to her dead.

She’s watching my advancing team as she lifts the detonator clasped tight in her hand.


Author Bio


Cecy Robson is a new adult and contemporary author of the Shattered Past series, the O’Brien Family novels and upcoming Carolina Beach novels, as well as the award-winning author of the Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series. A 2016 double nominated RITA®finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, Cecy is a recovering Jersey girl living in the South who enjoys carbs way too much, and exercise way too little. Gifted and cursed with an overactive imagination, you can typically find her on her laptop silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories.
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Book Blitz: Untouchable by Sibel Hodge


by Sibel Hodge
Genre: Psychological/Vigilante/Suspense Thriller
Release Date: July 18, 2016



A Conspiracy. A cover-up. And a whistle-blower who knows too much. You think you know who to trust? You’re wrong. And the truth may kill you…

~~ Inspired by real UK police investigations, this book contains scenes which some readers may find disturbing ~~

It’s Maya and Jamie’s anniversary, and she waits with excitement for him to return home for a celebratory dinner. There’s a knock at the door. It’s the police. Jamie has been found hanging in a local wood.

His death is ruled a suicide, but Maya doesn’t believe Jamie would take his own life. Something isn’t right. Someone has broken into her house. Someone is watching her. And someone has gone to great lengths to cover up what Jamie was doing before he died.

Maya’s grief turns to suspicion, and as she begins to investigate the weeks leading up to Jamie’s death, her trail leads her to a place known as “The Big House” and the horrific secrets within. Secrets people will stop at nothing to keep hidden. People linked to the heart of the Establishment who think they’re untouchable.

Now Maya has a dangerous decision to make. How far is she prepared to go to reveal the truth?





Sibel Hodge’s No. 1 Bestseller Look Behind You has now sold over ¼ million copies. Her books are International Bestsellers in UK, USA, Australia, France, and Germany. She writes an eclectic mix of genres, and she’s a passionate human and animal rights advocate.

Her work has been nominated and shortlisted for numerous prizes, including the Harry Bowling Prize, the Yeovil Literary Prize, the Chapter One Promotions Novel Competition, The Romance Reviews’ prize for Best Novel with Romantic Elements, and Indie Book Bargains’ Best Indie Books of 2012. She was the Winner of Best Children’s Book by eFestival of Words 2013, Nominated for the 2015 BigAl’s Books and Pals Young Adult Readers’ Choice Award, Winner of Crime, Thrillers & Mystery | Book from a Series in the SpaSpa Book Awards 2013, Readers’ Favourite Young Adult – Coming of Age Honourable Award Winner 2015, and New Adult Finalist in the Oklahoma Romance Writers of America’s International Digital Awards 2015. Her novella Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave has been listed as one of the top 40 books about human rights by Accredited Online Colleges.







Excerpt Reveal: Rising Ashes by Annie Anderson

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✦ ✦ ✦ Available for PreOrder ✦ ✦ ✦


RISING ASHES by Annie Anderson
Ashes to Ashes; Book 3
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: August 18, 2016
Cover Design by: MadHat Books




West Carmichael is not my real name.


It is the name I pulled from thin air over five hundred years ago. I don’t come from royalty—I come from the dregs of the ethereal. As the King’s assassin, I have more blood on my hands than most. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone.
But I will keep her safe.
Even if I die trying.


Evangeline Black.


My name sounds like the heroine of a historical romance novel – not that I read those or anything. My life so far: Dead parents? Check. Broken heart? Check. Evil mistress of darkness, hell-bent on power and thirsty for my death? Big. Honking. Check. But this mess won’t get cleaned up by itself.
I’ve got a job to do.


As these two reluctant hearts fight their pull, they must decide if they want to fall apart in the midst of the chaos swarming around them or yield to their hearts…
and rise.


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Pre-Order Rising Ashes
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EVAN – 1928 – Los Angeles, CA
The first time I met West Carmichael, I was singing at a speakeasy in Los Angeles. My parents didn’t know where I was, and for the first time in a long time, neither did Aurelia. Hiding from a Seer is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but a special cloaking amulet from a witch friend seemed to have worked wonders.
It was pretty. A sapphire the size of my thumbnail set in a silver filigree setting hanging from a thin chain that rests just below my collarbone. It wasn’t the nicest piece of jewelry I owned, but it was my favorite.
Maybe because it granted my freedom.
Or maybe because it matched my royal blue silk charmeuse gown to perfection. I used to hate dressing up, but this dress made me feel like a woman. It was an off the shoulder number with a daring sweetheart neckline – far ahead of its time. It fit like a second skin until it hit my thighs and then flared out like a calla lily into a delicate but short train. It may not have been the most comfortable dress I owned, but it made me feel like a sexy siren. Something that with my diminutive height, I rarely felt.
I was alone – finally alone even in this sea of people– after so much time with the ones I loved breathing down my neck. It was like a vacation. I needed something of my own. A secret, a life, something to break away from my family. Something that didn’t say princess or royalty.
Something that let me just be me. Singing was it for me.
I was ending my five-song set with a favorite of mine, an old Jane Greene song when I saw him. I’d seen him around town a few times, when I was shopping by myself or when I watched a boxing match at the Olympic Auditorium, a scandalous activity for an unchaperoned young lady.
But we’d never met.
He was handsome. I even daresay beautiful, if you can call a man like that beautiful. He was tall – taller than anyone in the room by nearly a whole head –and built so powerfully he made the other men look like pitiful adolescents dressed up in their daddy’s clothes. It was difficult to tell if his hair was as dark as it seemed in the low light of the secret club, but it appeared black in the dim. Dressed to the nines in a brilliant black suit, he moved with grace through the crowd until he found his seat at the only open table in the joint, folding his huge frame into the chair with the grace of a jaguar.
Papa had taken me to Brazil when I was just a little girl, and we saw the big cats roam the rainforests. He moved just like those jungle cats, scanning the room for prey and threats, watching everything with disinterest, as if he could take or leave the sights and sounds and people. As if he were bored in this raucous party that seemed to never end.
© Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson


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Also Available in the Ashes to Ashes Series


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SCATTERED ASHES (Ashes to Ashes, #1)
Amazon US : AU : CA : UK  


FALLING ASHES (Ashes to Ashes, #2)
Amazon US : AU : CA : UK  
**Available on Kindle Unlimited


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About the Author:
Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad.
As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.
Connect with Annie:
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