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BLOCK & TACKLE – BLITZ

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New Adult Romance, Sports Romance
Date Published: 3/13/2017
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Football, hockey, and everything in between!
Things are about to heat up on the ice and between the sheets. Each book is a fully fledged,standalone novel about forbidden love.
What happens when you get your dream job and temptation is your ex-hockey-star boss?
Or when the league’s top wide receiver has his eyes on you and he’s supposed to be just a client?
Perhaps you find yourself in enemy territory because the woman you love is your best friend’s sister?
Find out all the dirt in Block & Tackle!
Offsides by Elise Faber
Job title:
Executive Assistant for CEO of Prestige Media Group
Job description:
(1) Deal with a massive amount of emails.
(2) Schedule conference calls and meetings with top athletes and other hugely important people.
(3) Pick up dry cleaning and food, consult on tie selection, make dinner reservations, and book flights . . . basically act as a wife-on-steroids.
(4) THE IMPORTANT ONE: Do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with Devon Scott–demanding boss, former NHL player, and all-around gorgeous specimen of the male persuasion.
Job performance:
Failing.
Absolutely failing at number four.
Off Guard by Stephanie Fournet
Life couldn’t be better for Charlie Woodruff.
After a year of holding out, she’s finally landed the job she’s always wanted in the city of her dreams. An apartment she can afford and new friends at work make the transition easy.
When she meets a gorgeous stranger who makes her laugh and steals her breath, it seems like the icing on the cake…
Until Charlie discovers he’s a client.
Hutch Barlow — newly drafted wide receiver for the Oakland Raiders — looks like an avenging angel, hangs on her every word, and is completely off-limits. The trouble is he also refuses to take “no” for an answer.
And if she’s being honest, Charlie doesn’t want him to.
But seeing him means she could lose everything — including her heart.
Off Limits by Kristin Vayden
Everything about Ava screams off limits.
To want her is to invite disaster.
To pursue her is to risk my job.
To kiss her might cost me my best friend.
But all those risks seem small in light of the first problem.
She hates me.
To her I’m a sell out, choosing to advance my career rather than protect my biggest client.
Her brother.
And my best friend.
She hasn’t spoken to me in over a year, but that ends now.
Because I’m done with holding back.
To hell with the consequences.
Wish me luck . . .
Excerpts
From Offsides by Elise Faber
If ever a time existed for a curse word, this was it.
Becca was five minutes late. Five entire minutes late, and the little screen on the printer was flashing at her with a paper jam.
“Becca! Those files need to be on my desk now.”
Devon Scott. CEO of Prestige Media Group and her boss. Her very demanding boss.
Hence, curse words. Particularly the four-letter one Becca saved for only very special occasions.
The one that began with “f” and ended with a perfectly timed and heartfelt “uck.”
Yeah. The word pretty much summed up her day. No — her week. Heck, if she was already cursing, it might as well sum up her month.
She yanked the tray from the printer, cleared the jam, and shoved it back in. The printer whirred to life, spitting out pages in a flurry.
“Becca!”
“Coming,” she called before dropping her voice and muttering, “Hurry up. Hurry up.”
“Becca. So help me—”
The last page dropped into the tray. She snatched it up, fit it into the proper place of the file, and all but sprinted through the doorway of her boss’s office.
“The printer—” she began.
Devon’s eyes locked with hers, and Becca shivered. Not for the same reason that most people did when they met Mr. Scott. Not because his cool, businesslike expression was attributed to icicles or frozen seawater.
She shivered because of chocolate ice cream.
His eyes conjured thoughts of delicious, rich, melt-on-her-tongue sweetness that made her insides go all squirmy.
And along came that four-letter word again, blaring across her mind.
One winged brow arched, dark brown and perfectly formed. It made a crease on Devon’s forehead, a rainbow of little lines leading up, up, up almost to his hairline.
Which was the precise moment Becca realized she’d said that curse word aloud.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, smacking herself in the face with the manila cardstock in the process and dropping every single paper she’d so painstakingly fought the printer over.
This was not happening. Devon didn’t allow mistakes and… she sighed. She really needed this job.
The phone rang, and Becca lowered the folder, reaching out a hand to grab the receiver.
Devon beat her to it, snatching the phone up and snapping a terse “Hello” into it. But his eyes didn’t leave hers as the conversation went on. They sharpened, holding her in place as effectively as handcuffs—
And oh God. Now her cheeks were burning.
Trust her mind to take her straight on a journey to FSOG.
She bent, hurriedly collecting and ordering the papers before gingerly setting the file on his desk and beginning to back from the room.
Warm fingers on her wrist stopped her.
Becca’s eyes flashed down, and she shivered again. Tanned skin against porcelain. Thick, strong fingers dwarfing hers.
Devon Scott was a former hockey player, and it was easy to see why. He was every inch an athlete.
Every. Inch.
Oh good Lord.
She bit her lip and looked away.
“I need to go,” Devon said into the phone and hung up, hardly waiting a beat before allowing the receiver to drop.
It clattered and fell to the floor, but Becca barely noticed.
Because Devon was walking around the desk, his grip on her wrist tightening when she tried to slip free.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, calloused fingertips running along the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.
“Nothing.” She tugged her arm, silently telling him to release her.
He didn’t.
In fact, he leaned closer, bringing his face near hers, trailing the scent of pine and spice and man alongside.
“I said what’s wrong?”
The question made every part of her body go all tingly. Head to toes — and in between — each part heated and perked to attention.
Those parts told Becca to grab two fistfuls of Devon’s white button-down and rip. To pop the row of buttons and bury her face in the broad expanse of his chest.
But she had some pride. And a backbone, for that matter.
So she lifted her chin and said again, “Nothing.”
His hand wove into her hair, scattering the messy ponytail she’d thrown her brown locks into that morning as she’d run out the door behind schedule.
First the coffee shop for Devon’s large latte — she couldn’t abide the stuff. Then the bagel shop for his breakfast. Then rushing across town to open the office by five-thirty.
Her life was about making his easier.
And that was totally fine. She was the disposable half of their working relationship. She knew the score.
Until she didn’t.
One strong arm snaked around her waist and tugged her flush to his chest. The chest she’d admired for so long, the chest that made her want to lick… and squeeze… and stroke…
She didn’t have a chance.
He kissed her.
His mouth was firm and insistent, his tongue parting her lips to sneak inside, teasing hers until she broke free of her shock and kissed him back.
His hand slid lower and gripped her butt, pulling her somehow closer as he backed her up against his desk and proceeded to kiss the smart right out of her.
Buttons on her blouse came unfastened, his belt unbuckled, her skirt hitched higher, and—
 
From Off Guard by Stephanie Fournet
She sounded much more composed than she felt. His presence, his attention, his eyes, everything about him weakened her resolve, and Charlie found herself wanting to reach for him.
That could not happen.
Hutch gently set her fork down on her abandoned plate and then leaned into the back of her couch. He watched her for a long moment. So long the silence grew awkward. The look in his eyes was completely unreadable.
“Are you wishing I hadn’t come?”
The question shocked the truth out of her. “No. Not at all.”
His elegant brow rose just a fraction. “But you want me to leave.” It wasn’t a question, but he sought her face for an answer, and, again, Charlie felt compelled to speak the truth.
“I don’t want you to leave. I need you to leave.” Saying it aloud filled her with regret, so much so she nearly panicked. Please don’t leave, she wanted to tell him.
The light in his eyes changed. “You don’t want me to leave?” She watched him fight a smile. Seeing that made her happy in a way she couldn’t explain. And at the same time, the happiness stung in a way that almost made her eyes water.
She took a measured breath. “You heard me,” she said, unwilling to give away anything else.
Hutch brought his elbow to the back of her couch and leaned his head against his knuckles. He looked at her. No one in her whole life had ever looked at her so openly.
“I don’t want to leave.” His voice was soft, deep, and it penetrated her skin and buried itself deep into her bones. She felt like she’d carry its resonance in her ribs and her sternum and her spine for the rest of her days.
Charlie swallowed and leaned against the back of her couch, matching his posture almost exactly. It was comfortable like this, resting her head against her hand and staring at an impossibly beautiful man. “What do you want?” she heard herself whisper.
“I want permission,” he whispered back.
Her breath tripped, stopped, and started again. “Permission for what?”
“To kiss you.”
From Off Limits by Kristin Vayden
This would do nothing but boost Bryce’s ability to market his brand. With any luck, he’d clench the Sprite deal we’d been working on. It was all about name recognition, and tonight’s game had given his a huge boost.
“I swear if you turn around, and I see dollar signs where your eyes should be, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions.” Her tone was acidic, grating on my final nerve. “That’s my brother. Don’t forget that.”
“What the hell is your problem?” I turned, wishing I could take the words back as soon as they filled the room. Because it wasn’t going to help anything — not her, not Bryce. Sure as hell not me.
“You!” She gave a sarcastic neck twist, eyes blazing.
“Really? Because I’ve never had a problem with you, Ava. Ever.”
Her gaze flickered to the ground then back to me, just enough hesitation in her expression to tempt me to push my luck. “And maybe… maybe if you’d stop focusing on your own assumptions, you might see that I’m not your enemy. But I get it. It’s easier to be pissed at me than Bryce. And I’m good with that. I’ll pretend with you because he did make the choice to play when you asked him to quit. I’ll take the heat for that every damn day.” I started to walk toward her, each step slow and measured as her caramel-colored eyes studied me, but she didn’t back away.
“Just don’t delude yourself into thinking that I have anything against you, Ava. I never have. Never will. So… deal with it.” I shrugged, stopping just before her, yet close enough for her floral perfume to assault me with lethal force.
“As if you see anything past his bank account.” She gave a cold glare.
“You really have no clue, do you?” I shook my head, intense frustration warring against the insane ideas that kept popping into my mind. “Everything — everything — that Bryce does is for you. And even if he didn’t take every step with you in mind, I would.” The words were soft, but the heavy nature filled the room, weighing it down. I was pushing my luck to the limit.
Ava tilted her chin lightly, her expression shifting. The light from the kitchen illuminated her lips as her pink tongue darted out to lick them. “What do you mean that you would?”
I shook my head, a slight smile teasing my lips. “And you say that I’m dense.” Without giving her a chance to respond, I gently nipped her lower lip, breathing in her small gasp at the contact before meeting her lips once more before pulling away. Part of me was tense, waiting for the slap that would inevitably come, but rather than a hard smack, her hand reached up and cupped my chin, pulling me in tighter. And my body reacted like a match to the flame.
About the Author

Aside from writing romance, Elise Faber’s passions are chocolate, Star Wars, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team — the Sharks! — are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise is the mom to two exuberant boys and is thoroughly addicted to Dancing With the Stars. Connect with her on facebook (facebook.com/elisefaberauthor), twitter (@faberelise), instagram (@elisefaber) or www.elisefaber.com.

Kristin Vayden’s inspiration for the romance she writes comes from her tall, dark and handsome husband with killer blue eyes. With five children to chase, she is never at a loss for someone to kiss, something to cook or some mess to clean but she loves every moment of it! Life is full—of blessings and adventure! Needless to say she’s a big fan of coffee and wine…and living in Washington she’s within walking distance of both! Follow her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/kristinvaydenauthor) And Instagram @kristinkatjoyce and Twitter @KristinVayden! You can also sign up for her newsletter at https://eepurl.com/795f9.

Amazon Bestselling Author Stephanie Fournet has five novels to her name: FALL SEMESTER, LEGACY, BUTTERFLY GINGER, LEAVE A MARK, and YOU FIRST. She lives with her husband, daughter, and dogs in Lafayette, Louisiana, not far from the Saint Streets where her books are set. When she isn’t working or writing, she can often be found running or curled up with a romance novel. Visit Her Website (https://www.stephaniefournet.com/). Follow her on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/stephanie.fournet) And Instagram @stephanie_fournet and Twitter @stephanie4net!

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FRIEND ZONED – RELEASE DAY BLITZ

All’s fair in love and war,
until someone ends up in an arranged marriage.
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FRIEND ZONED
WREN MICHAELS
Genre: New Adult Romance, Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Wren Michaels
Publication Date: March 28, 2017
Catherine ‘Cat’ Marek has a sociology paper due on dissecting the laws of attraction. Project Panty Drop will case study two different men; one she’ll go after in person and the other she’ll attempt to charm online. Hiding behind her beauty, she tries to cover up her true geeky side, and the fact that she’s partially deaf.
Jaidev ‘Jai’ Sankar needs to knock out a paper for his online sociology class. After an encounter with the Texas Tease, Cat Marek, he decides Project Friend Zoned will be the ultimate topic, proving a guy can remain in the friend zone with a girl he finds attractive.
As Cat puts the moves into overdrive, Jai finds it harder to remain in the ‘friend zone’ with her. The only thing keeping him from letting go is the fact his hardcore Hindu parents have a wedding scheduled for him. When neither can resist their attraction, the fight no longer becomes about their papers, but about the freedom to love each other.
Wren Michaels never disappoints me, and Friend Zoned was no different. … Get this one. You won’t be disappointed.
– LeTeisha Newton, Goodreads Reviewer
With a mix of old world and new this book does NOT disappoint! I highly recommend it!!
– Sylvia Schneider, Goodreads Reviewer

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Excerpt From the Book

Her face haunted me. The adorable dimple pitted in her cheek caught my eye first. Sexy full lips that folded into a gorgeous smile just about took my breath away. I did my best not to continuously stare at her, managing to throw just a few glances here and there hoping she got the message. But she didn’t take the bait. Instead, she gave me a ‘too good for you’ glance while she plowed down a server on her way to the bathroom, probably to restock the toilet paper in her bra.
The Texas Tease, I called it. Lots of girls at UT had it—this one in particular—in spades. Shorter than my normal tastes, her alluring doe-eyes caught me off guard. The memory of her petite frame sashaying as she worked those sexy, black pumps played on a loop in my head. Along with the way her long, brown hair bounced with every step like a damn shampoo commercial.
She drove me insane, and I didn’t even know her name. At least Mick confirmed she was a student at UT, apparently in one of his Economics classes.
She intrigued me, sitting in a sports bar drinking beer while her prissy friend sipped wine. I even caught her glancing at the Longhorn game on the big screen. A cute girl who likes beer and football? Every guy’s dream. If only she weren’t a snob. But, I’d put her in her place. And I had the perfect plan.
The ring of my Skype alert disrupted my plotting. Incoming message from Kanti, my best friend.
Kanti: Hey …
Me: What’s up, brat?
Kanti: You busy?
Me: Never too busy for you.
Kanti: Stop with the sugar, you’re giving me diabetes.
Me: LOL Better get used to it.
Kanti: Ugh. Don’t remind me. Quick, what do you want for your birthday? You got the new Mortal Kombat release already?
Me: Yeah, of course I do. But you don’t have to get me anything. You know that.
Kanti: I can’t NOT get you anything.
Me: Tell me you talked to your parents and the wedding’s called off. That would be an awesome present.
Kanti: Seriously? You know that isn’t even in the realm of possibilities. So shut it.
Me: I can dream, can’t I?
Kanti: Yeah, and I know what you do in those dreams. Not even going there.
Me: You’re such a bitch. Why do I love you?
Kanti: Because we’re best friends.
Me: Well, there’s that.
Mick yelled through the door. “Jai, you comin’ down or what?”
“In a minute,” I replied.
Me: I gotta go. Kegger tonight and we’re hosting.
Kanti: Email me and let me know what to get you.
Me: Fine.
Kanti: LOL Kiss Kiss
Me: Whatever. LOL TTYL
I closed the lid on my laptop as Mick flung the door open.
“People are starting to arrive. You’re on keg duty first.”
I tossed him a nod. “Yeah, I know. I’m coming. Just finishing up some notes on my Sociology project.”
“I thought you dropped that class?” He folded his arms, leaning against the door-frame.
“I was going to until Professor Wilkinson agreed to let me take it online, since it’s the same time as my cinematography course.” I pulled out a notepad. “What’d you say that chick’s name was again? The one we saw at the bar today.”
“Catherine Marek. But I think she goes by Cat.” Mick shrugged. “Why? I thought you said she was a snob, and you weren’t gonna pursue her?”
“Oh, I’m not. I got my sights set on another girl I’ve been talking to for a little while. But I think that Cat chick will make for a perfect target on my sociology paper.” I wrote down her name and underlined it five times. “I’m calling it, Friend Zoned.”
Mick laughed. “Oh, this ought to be good. What’re you gonna do?”
“It’s what I’m not gonna do that’s going be the best part. I’m going to act like I’m interested, then when she takes the bait, I’ll friend zone her. I’m going to prove that a guy can be sexually attracted to a girl who’s interested in him and still remain only friends. I’ll be the best ‘friend’ she’s ever gonna have.”

Giveaway

WIN
Prizes up for grabs:
Winner’s choice of a book from the Author’s backlist
$10 Amazon Gift Card
Contest runs from March 30 – April 1, 2017.

About Wren Michaels

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Wren hails from the frozen tundra of Wisconsin where beer and cheese are their own food groups. But a cowboy swept her off her feet and carried her below the Mason-Dixon line to Texas, where she promptly lost all tolerance for cold and snow. Fueled by coffee, dreams, and men in kilts, Wren promises to bring you laughter, sexy fun time, and action that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The easiest way to her heart is anything to do with the Green Bay Packers, Doctor Who, or Joss Whedon.
Represented by Margaret Bail of Fuse Literary Agency.
Official website: https://wrenmichaels.com/
Connect with Wren Michaels on social media:
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BUTTERFLY SERENADE – PROMO BLITZ

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New Adult Romance, Contemporary Romance
Date Published:  1/15/2017
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 Rose
Whore. Slut. Tramp.
I don’t want to believe the words, but they’re true. Having sex with strangers temporarily affords me the necessary control to quiet the demons from my nightmares. But each unfulfilling encounter leaves me more emotionally empty than before. I’m trapped in a dead, brown shell, unable to break free.
Until the day he walks into my life.
Colin is everything that’s good and pure–a beacon of light to my dark, lost soul. His music is a soothing balm, warming long-frozen places inside me. His kindness disarms me, making me long for more. But to have more, I’d need to reveal the horrors of my past.
And I can’t tell anyone. It’ll tear me apart.
Colin
 
I’ve been waiting for her all my life.
From the moment I laid eyes her, I knew Rose was my soul mate. I’m drawn to her inner beauty and yearn to show her the love she’s never known. The pain reflected in her lovely amber eyes rouses emotions deep within me, stirring the music in my soul and making my fingers take flight over the keyboard.
But Rose is a woman holding closely guarded secrets.
More than my next breath, I want to quell the haunted look in her eyes … heal her broken spirit and make her whole again. She doesn’t believe that’s possible. But I won’t give up.
Not until she lets me love her–all of her.
Warning: Contains graphic descriptions of abuse that may distress some readers.
Excerpt

 

Chapter 1
Rose
I slide the last box of my belongings out of the back seat of Olivia’s car and close the door with my hip. For a moment, I stand there breathing deeply of the fresh pine-scented mountain air. In the distance, beyond the brick building that houses our dorm, the majestic San Francisco peaks rise up in their cloak of foggy clouds to meet a clear blue sky. It’s good to be back at Northern Arizona University. The city of Flagstaff and this school have been my haven since I left my old life behind two years ago. I don’t miss it. No one in their right mind would. It was nothing short of hell. In a way, my life didn’t really start until I moved here. It’s still far from perfect, but whose life is? At least it’s mine to live now, and no one can make me do anything I don’t want to.
Funny that I lived that old life just two short hours away from here, yet no one I used to know has ever tried to find me–or if they tried, they haven’t been successful. I’m glad. I don’t want to see anyone from that time. No, that isn’t entirely true. The only person I’d like to see again is my old friend, Emily. Other than her, I couldn’t care less. The people to whom I’m related by blood aren’t my family anymore. The only real family I have now are Olivia, her mom, Abigail, and her younger sister, Jennifer. They took me in when I had no place else to go and helped me carve out this new life for myself.
The ache in my arms reminds me that I need to relieve them of their burden. I head for the main door of the dorm. One of the girls who lives down the hall from me and Olivia sees me coming and holds it open for me. I nod my thanks, then head up the stairs for the third floor where our room is located. I’ve made this trip up and down about ten times today, unloading all our stuff. By the time I reach the second floor, the strength in my arms is flagging and my legs are screaming to end this torturous exercise. After taking a short breather at the landing, I continue plodding up the next flight of stairs.
At the sound of heavy, rapid footfalls behind me, I move to one side to allow the person who is quickly gaining ground on me to pass by. My cumbersome load bumps into the railing, causing my foot to catch on the next step. As I’m about to pitch down the stairs, a pair of strong hands catch me at the waist.
“Whoa, there! Easy,” a sexy, masculine voice rumbles in my ear.
I automatically stiffen. I don’t like being touched–especially by strange men–without my permission. Knowing he’s only trying to help, I take a deep breath and will my body to relax.
He leans to one side, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see he’s smiling.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You can let go of me now, I resist the urge to say out loud.
“Here, why don’t you let me help you with that?” Before I can protest, he moves around in front of me and lifts the heavy box out of my hands. “So where are we headed?”
“Ah … next floor.” I point upward. “Room 329.”
He continues up the stairs with me trailing behind. The door to mine and Olivia’s dorm room is open, but before entering he calls out, “Knock, knock.”
“Hi! Did you need something?” I hear Olivia’s friendly voice coming from inside the room, but his tall, muscular frame blocks her from my view.
“Just helping your roommate with her stuff.” He lifts his arms, indicating the box.
“Oh! Well, bring it on in.”
He enters the room, and I follow.
Olivia finally sees me. “I was wondering what happened to you. You were gone for a while.”
Having placed the box on one of the beds, my helper turns around. “I’m afraid that’s partly my fault. I nearly knocked her over in the stairwell. I figured the least I could do is carry her things.”
“Thank you,” I say to one of the buttons on the front of his shirt. I can’t bring myself to make eye contact. It’s something I tend to avoid with men, unless I’m on the prowl. I’m afraid it might encourage him to do something I don’t want. Like ask me out.
“I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Colin … Colin O’Malley.” He offers his hand, first to Olivia–who introduces herself, too–and then to me.
It would be rude not to accept, so I place my hand in his. It almost completely envelopes mine, and at once, I notice his long fingers. Even though his hands are on the large side, there’s a gentleness in them I don’t expect. Now that I think about it, once I got over the initial shock of his touch, I’d noticed it in the stairwell, too. It also didn’t escape me that he’d behaved like a gentleman and hadn’t tried to “accidentally” cop a feel. He’d only held me until he was sure I’d regained my footing.
“So …” He leans down a little. “Do you have a name?”
Realizing I’ve been daydreaming, and still staring at his chest to boot, my face starts to heat. “Yeah, i-it’s Rose … Rose Harmon.”
I finally lift my gaze to find him smiling at me. He has a gorgeous, model-perfect smile with straight white teeth. And wonder of wonders, it actually shows in his sparkling eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes quite so blue. They’re the color of the sky I just saw outside. He has dark hair, almost jet black, with an unruly lock that falls down over his forehead, giving him a rakish look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man this handsome in all my life, except maybe a few times in the movie magazines Emily and I used to look at in the library as teenagers.
Still smiling and holding my hand, he says, “Rose” as though he’s trying out my name to see if it fits.
The sound of it coming from his lips makes my stomach do an uncharacteristic flip-flop, and for a moment I forget to breathe.
About the Author
Julianna is a hopeless romantic and believer in fairy tales. Even as a little girl, her fondest dream was to find a Prince Charming who would sweep her off her feet. She’s happy to report she’s been married to him for twenty-two years. Although she’s been an avid reader since she was two years old, she never envisioned herself as a writer until six years ago. Now she feels like she’s finally found her life’s passion. The muses keep the ideas flowing faster than she can put them on the page. She hopes that her readers will love her characters and stories every bit as much as she’s loved creating them.
Julianna currently lives in hot, sunny Phoenix, Arizona with her husband, an adult son, a teenage daughter, a Husky/Great Pyrenees mix dog, and two cats. In addition to writing, she enjoys reading, hanging out on GoodReads, surfing the web, watching TV or movies, book shopping, and feeding her insatiable thirst for knowledge.
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ROMANCE ISLAND – BLITZ

 

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Contemporary Romance, New Adult Romance, Rock Star Romance
Date Published:  January 24, 2017
Publisher: Lost Plot Press

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Only $.99 Until January 29, 2017
Regularly Priced at $7.99
Where does a rock star go looking for love? Romance Island Resort, of course! An exclusive paradise in the Buccaneer Archipelago off the coast of Western Australia, Romance Island Resort is known for its luxury and the discretion of its staff. Welcome to paradise, where the romance is as hot as the weather and the tides aren’t all that’s surging beneath the surface.
A hot Aussie rock star looking for love. Why did he have to pick HER hotel?
For a limited time, you can get the first 3 books in the Romance Island Resort series for only 99c.
That’s
•Maid for the Rock Star (#1)
•The Rock Star’s Email Order Bride (#2) and
•The Rock Star’s Virginity (#3)
for more than 85% off the full price of buying the books separately.
About the Author

Demelza Carlton has always loved the ocean, but on her first snorkelling trip she found she was afraid of fish.
She has since swum with sea lions, sharks and sea cucumbers and stood on spray-drenched cliffs over a seething sea as a seven-metre cyclonic swell surged in, shattering a shipwreck below.
Sensationalist spin? No – Demelza tends to take a camera with her so she can capture and share the moment later; shipwrecks, sharks and all.
Demelza now lives in Perth, Western Australia, the shark attack capital of the world.
The Ocean’s Gift series was her first foray into fiction, followed by the Nightmares trilogy. She swears the Mel Goes to Hell series ambushed her on a crowded train and wouldn’t leave her alone.
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PROMO BLITZ- SHELTER ME BY STEPHANIE TYLER

New Adult Romance, Romantic Suspense
Date Published:  July 25, 2016
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There are ghosts in my past—ghosts I can’t recognize.
My painting heals me, but Lucas Caine has made me come alive. My past could take both those things away forever. What started out as an undeniable need to create was quickly turning into danger as my longing for memories fed the rough canvases I filled.
Falling for Lucas will force me to revisit my lost memories—and possibly lose myself, my art, and him in the process.
And now he has me skating the thin edge between desire and fear as I use a past I don’t remember to leverage a future I’m not sure I want.
(This is book 1 in a 3 book series. Book 2 will be available November 2016 & Book 3, January 2017)
EXCERPT
I absently tucked it into a loose braid over one shoulder while I studied the painting in front of me. I’d wanted to let Brayden pick the order, but he’d refused earlier that morning, and told me I was running out of time. At that memory, I murmured “Bastard” in his absence.
That’s when a low, rough voice said, “People usually know me at least five minutes before calling me that.”
Still on the floor, I whipped around to see the tall, brutally handsome man standing maybe ten feet away. How long had he been there? I hadn’t heard him come in, but now that he was coming closer, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
The fight or flight response had remained intact when my memory hadn’t. Everyone, every stranger wasn’t necessarily a stranger. They could know me. They could be a part of my past.
Whether this man was or not, my base response to him was a purely physical one.
“The door was open,” the man explained.
And it might’ve been. Brayden told me to lock myself in but I often forgot. Panic must have flashed across my face because he stopped advancing and held up his hands like a show of surrender. But he didn’t try to tell me he was harmless, because he wasn’t. Never could be. And the man who waited for him had moved too, turned his back in an effort to appear less threatening.
“My name’s Lucas. I buy a lot of art from Brayden.”
“Mine?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“I guess you’ll have to try harder.”
A smile ghosted across his chiseled face and I liked that. Wanted to see it more, wanted to be the one who could always bring a smile to his face.
 These men could be here to harm me and I was too busy with my tongue hanging out to threaten them with the police.
Because you rely on your gut, Ryn, my therapist, foster mom and Brayden always told me. That will get you through just about any situation.
My gut said this man knew I was Ryn Taylor, artist, but didn’t know anything beyond that about me except what he’d read in interviews. Maybe he was here for my art, or maybe it was for me. But how could I feel so connected to someone I’d just met?
Lucas.
I rolled the name around in my mind as my eyes took in the black leather motorcycle jacket and the tighter black T-shirt underneath…the worn-in jeans and the heavy black motorcycle boots. I saw the hint of an expensive watch peek out on his wrist as he came closer.
I knew too, if I pushed up those sleeves, I’d find some ink. Incongruous, and ultimately intriguing.
 The angles of his face begged to be drawn, to be touched, and I held my hands down rigidly at my sides so I wouldn’t do just that. “My show’s not until tomorrow night,” I managed.
“I know.”
“Are you here to…” I looked around for Brayden, like he would magically appear and caught another glance of the other man by the door. “Are you here for Brayden?”
“For Brayden? No.” His mouth quirked up to the side a little and he ran a hand through his dark blond hair. It was long enough to curl a bit at the nape of his neck, and it was rumpled, like maybe he’d just rolled out of bed…and maybe he hadn’t been alone.
“You’re not his type.”
 His blue eyes pierced me. They were a dark blue and they missed nothing. “Whose type am I?”
Mine, I nearly blurted out. I was nervous, my stomach fluttering but not in that panicked way I recognized. Just the opposite, actually. Heat flooded me as he stared at me in my tank top and jeans with utmost appreciation, the frank gaze of someone who understood beauty and acted on it.
I wanted him to act, but at the same time, I needed him to stay away. I was too drawn to him, an electromagnetic pull that spun the earth on its axis differently. Something told me that I’d never get this man out of my life. I’d never be done with him, or him of me, and holy hell, that was a heady enough thought to make me dizzy.
I remained on my knees, stock still, looking up at him. I had the odd feeling that if I moved, even a little, I’d fall, trip, completely ruin the moment.
He gave me a heated look, and dammit, he knew what I was thinking.
Every woman who came into contact with him probably had that reaction. And that made me unnaturally, irrationally jealous because, in my mind, I’d already claimed him.
Finally, his gaze shifted to the paintings I’d been appraising. He focused on one that was part of a series that’d already sold well, thanks to Brayden. I’d wanted to call the series Man in Trees (and still did so) but Brayden told me it was creepy and insisted on simply, Catskills as the official series title. And while I could see what he meant, the person these were based on had never, ever scared me. But I couldn’t tell Brayden these were based on someone real, because he’d freak out.
 Even though I was building an entire series around him, I’d never seen the man’s face. Still, I’d always sworn I’d be able to sense him the way I’d sensed him out there before I’d caught sight of the shadowed figure, and even though I hadn’t been able to see his face clearly, I knew he was big, broad and utterly male. I’d wanted to walk across the lawn, strip him and paint him…and then climb him after I stripped myself.
When I’d shown Brayden the first picture, he’d insisted on bringing it to the gallery. I hadn’t wanted that, but I’d felt foolish telling Brayden about why the painting was so special to me, why I wanted to keep it. He told me that if I was sentimental about my work, I’d never get anywhere. In the end, after a terrible fight, I agreed to let him show it in his gallery, but I’d have final say if it was to be sold.
It was stolen a week later.
I stared up at Lucas as he stared at my painting—the fourth in a collection of nine, not counting the missing first one, all attempts to recreate those initial feelings that had propelled me to paint the first one. His expression unshuttered for a brief moment, like he was letting me in, drawing me closer to the fire.
I couldn’t afford to play with fire, but he was like the ghost of the man I thought I’d conjured up on that warm summer’s night in the Catskills. I was seventeen, dizzy and half high from creating. I’d glanced over and watched him. He was half hidden among the trees and if I hadn’t been coming off a painting, I would’ve been terrified. Instead, I noticed how handsome he was, chiseled and mysterious.
I dreamed about him that whole week, less as the years went by, but always when I needed comfort, or when I was coming out of the burn of my art.
He’d been there. He was now here. Could I have wanted him so badly that my dream turned into reality? A ridiculous thought and one I chided myself for.
Creation didn’t work that way.
I tried to draw in a shaky breath when this ridiculously beautiful, rough man moved a few steps in my direction, even though he was still focused on the painting.
The walls were closing in on me until he said, “Your work is beautiful,” and turned from me to the paintings.
What little space he’d given me let me breathe. Even though I swore his gaze heated me, the fact that he was pointing to various paintings soothed me.
“My first show is tomorrow,” was all I could think of to say, even though it was probably obvious.
“Your work is ready.”
Your work. Like he knew I wasn’t. “I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
He turned back to me then. “That’s not a bad thing. Protect whatever the hell makes these.”
What made those was a part of the nightmare of my blacked-out past. What if discovering what was behind it stole the art from me, left me limp, with nothing? What if I had to trade nightmares and the thing I loved for peace? That haunted me, so I’d chosen not to have peace.
I remained on the ground, drawn to him, wanting to rise but refusing to do so. Sheer stubbornness and self-preservation mixed together.
He reached a hand down to help me up but I couldn’t touch him. Not yet.
I pushed myself up. He was at least six foot four to my five feet four inches. The difference was dramatic.
He was so still, a predator, watching me with keen interest. I’d never been as intensely aware of a man in my life. I could smell his skin, wanted to taste it, put my mouth on his and forget everything else, including basic human decency.
I blamed the art. The heat. My lack of proper nutrition.
I stuck out my hand without saying anything, almost a dare. He took it in his and my pulse beat a tattoo. I felt the slow burn and then the aftershock quake through my whole body.
There was a definite sense of street in him, a primal, easily willing and able to fight for his life street sense.
His eyes were haunted, like maybe he already had.
There was no doubt he’d won.
About the Author
 

 

Stephanie Tyler is the New York Times bestselling author of romance novels spanning multiple genres, including Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Paranormal Romance and Contemporary Romance.
She’s a hybrid author who writes for multiple publishers, including Random House, NAL/Penguin, Harlequin, Carina Press, Mammoth Books, Belle Books and Samhain Publishing, as well as Riptide (as SE Jakes) and indie publishing. Her books have been translated into half a dozen languages, nominated for an RT Readers’ Choice Award and garnered top picks from RT Magazine as well as starred reviews from Publishers Weekly. She’s a frequent workshop presenter and has contributed stories for anthologies for charities, including SEAL of My Dreams, which has raised over 150K for the Veterans Medical Association.
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