Thursday, July 30, 2015

Torn Hearts by Claire Contreras



Free, free, FREE!  Torn Hearts follows Mia and Jensen's story in the beginning. Like many of our own stories, theirs is not complete.  Their story will continue in Paper Hearts releasing September 10th!

 

Start Mia & Jensen’s Story for FREE  at the following retailers:

 
 
 
 
Blurb
 
I met a boy once.
He made my heart go into a frenzy every time he looked at me, and my knees go weak whenever he touched me. Our love was so beautiful that even its demise was bittersweet.
I met a girl once.
Her world, full of possibilities, made me feel like even I had a chance at being someone. She believed in me. She loved me. We were so secure, that even our breaking point seemed hazy.
Until we reached it.
 
 
Author Information

claire bio.jpg

Claire Contreras graduated with her BA in Psychology from Florida International University. She lives in Miami, Florida with her husband, two little boys, and three dogs.

 

Her favorite past times are: daydreaming, writing, and reading.

 

She has been described as a random, sarcastic, crazy girl with no filter.

 

Life is short, and it’s more bitter than sweet, so she tries to smile as often as her face allows. She enjoys stories with happy endings, because life is full of way too many unhappy ones.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter
 


 

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Review: Saved

Saved Saved by Kelly Elliott
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What another great book by Kelly Elliott. I could hardly put the book down. I loved it just as much as the first book. Well worth your time to read.

View all my reviews

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

The Forbidden Billionaire by J.S. Scott



Synopsis 

All of Jared Sinclair’s wealth still can’t

ease the pain from his terrible childhood…or his guilt over a recent

tragedy. Unable to forgive himself, the billionaire property investor

buries his emotions, toughens his skin, and becomes a notorious

womanizer, refusing to commit his heart to a woman when he’s convinced

she wants only his wallet.
But ever since Jared arrived in

Amesport, Maine, he’s been intrigued by Mara Ross, the petite and sexy

shop owner who asks nothing of him. When Mara’s store is purchased

without her knowledge, she stands on the brink of losing her home, her

livelihood, and generations of family history. Then the irresistibly

persuasive Jared proposes a business deal to Mara…and soon draws her

into a steamy, sensual affair, convincing her that he’s anything but

cold. However, when a revelation shakes Mara’s fragile trust to the

core, Jared must finally confront the truth about his past.
 
In The Forbidden Billionaire, J.S. Scott brings the next chapter in her passionate Sinclairs series to life.
Purchase Links 

Teaser



Also Available 



Synopsis 

Called an eccentric beast by the citizens of

Amesport, Maine, handsome, sensual billionaire Grady Sinclair stays

isolated in his mansion on a private peninsula. The arrangement suits

Grady just fine—until an unassuming woman rings his doorbell, awaking

his long dormant passion with her fearlessness. All he wants is to make

the fiery blonde his forever. But will he have to become the monster

everyone thinks he is to get his Christmas wish?

Emily Ashworth is

 desperate. The Youth Center has been robbed of all its money, and as

the director, she has to find a way to give the town’s needy children

the Christmas they deserve. With nowhere else to turn, she ventures to

the mansion of a mysterious billionaire to ask for help. Warned to

expect a beast, Emily is shocked to find Grady Sinclair a handsome and very

 sensual man. With steamy kisses under the mistletoe and seductive

whispers while hanging the wreath, Emily finds there’s more to Grady

than meets the eye. Is this misunderstood billionaire just a lonely soul

 who needs the gift of love for Christmas?

This edition of The Billionaire's Christmas, which was previously published in A Maine Christmas...Or Two: A Duet (The Billionaire's Angel & A Mermaid Isle Christmas), includes editorial revisions.

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1vnmcpd

Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/ZBbLkp

 


 Synopsis Dante Sinclair never cared about his family’s

 money. All the ultra-sexy billionaire ever wanted was to be a cop; and

now that he’s a homicide detective in Los Angeles, he’s a damn good one.

 But when he is injured and loses his partner in the line of duty, he

returns to his vacation home in Amesport, Maine, to recover. With a

mouth as dangerous as the streets he protects, Dante knows no one can

ever heal or tame him.

Sarah Baxter, a brilliant young doctor

still struggling with her stifled upbringing, has recently moved from

Chicago to sleepy Amesport to escape her past, hoping to find peace.

When Sarah is assigned to Dante’s case, there’s an instant heat between

them. They couldn’t possibly be more different, yet their intense

passion is impossible to ignore. As burning desires awaken within Sarah,

 her haunted past returns, threatening her once again. Can Dante

overcome his grief and unravel the secrets Sarah is hiding in time to

protect and rescue her?

Coming Soon!!! 

The Billionaire's Touch 
 


Pre Order Available NOW 

After a troubling childhood, wealthy Evan

Sinclair likes his life orderly and controlled. He rarely gives in to

spontaneous urges—until he begins a chance correspondence with a mystery

 woman who sounds like his complete opposite. She intrigues and amuses

him, and the interest seems mutual…which is more than he can say for his

 current obsession, Miranda Tyler, the tough-as-nails, sexy

schoolteacher who’s made it clear she’s not impressed—or interested.

Miranda

 finally has it all: a good job, friends, and the security of living in

the quaint coastal town of Amesport, Maine. She even has an anonymous

pen pal—a man she’s never met yet has bonded with almost effortlessly.

The only thing unsettling her life is Evan Sinclair. The handsome

billionaire is arrogant, pompous, and far too used to getting his way.

Miranda tries her best to avoid him, until Evan’s steamy kiss turns her

world upside down.

Soon their red-hot desire is scorching the

sheets and has them both spinning out of control. But when secrets are

revealed, will their insatiable attraction keep them together or force

them apart? In J.S. Scott’s The Billionaire’s Touch, the eldest Sinclair just might have met his match.











J.S.

 Scott is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of steamy

romance. She's an avid reader of all types of books and literature.

Writing what she loves to read, J.S. Scott writes both contemporary

steamy romance stories and paranormal romance erotics. They almost

always feature an Alpha Male and have a happily ever after because she

just can't seem to write them any other way! 






Damaged & Dangerous (The Sacred Hearts MC Book VI) by AJ Downey






Title: Damaged & Dangerous
Series: The Sacred Hearts MC VI
Author: A.J. Downey
Release Date: September 27, 2015


Synopsis
 
 
She’s Damaged…
Dani Broussard never imagined that her life would turn out like this. She always thought that her grandfather would be there for her into adulthood and that her high school sweetheart, Jared, would be the man she would marry. That isn’t what happened though. Instead, her grandfather got sick and passed away before Dani saw the age of nineteen. It was just her and Jared until he hooked up with a local MC, The Suicide Kings… Then it was just her. Pig-Pen claimed her body, rules her life, but he would never hold her heart. Kept because of her looks and a particular set of skills unique only to her, Dani has been with The Suicide Kings for the last three years… three long damaging years. She hates it, all of it, the pain the humiliation, the fear… and as strong as Dani is, as clever as she can be, she is quickly finding that death may be the kinder, gentler option rather than live through any more of this hell.
He’s Dangerous…
Red-XIII is, and always will be, a Sacred Hearts man. But for now, he’s a Suicide Kings prospect. Tasked with providing intelligence on the King’s inner workings to his real club, Thirteen has been slowly, quietly and carefully dismantling the King’s operation from the inside out. The situation is dangerous, good thing Thirteen is a dangerous guy but even he can’t be everywhere at once and a couple of missteps have cost the Sacred Hearts dearly. Doubly determined to finish this with no more wreckage or damage to the SHMC, Thirteen is blindsided by his heart when he lays eyes on Dani. A pretty, little thing with long black hair and striking blue eyes. She slays him with one look from her damaged soul and now Thirteen has tasked himself with two missions… Take down The Suicide Kings and get both Dani and himself out alive.
For now those missions run parallel to each other but what happens if they ever end up at odds? The bigger question is, how can he get close to the VP’s Ol’ Lady as a Prospect and not get them both burned?
 
 
https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fbook%2Fshow%2F25895137-damaged-dangerous&h=bAQHuoFds
 
 
Excerpt


I finished cleaning the clubhouse all the while trapped in memory. I didn’t realize that I’d had company as I’d worked. As usual, he was there, parked on the end of the couch, boots propped on the old, scarred, garage sale coffee table, only this early in the day he’d forgone the beer in favor of a bottle of water. Another thing that set him apart as ‘other’, to the rest of the guys beer was bottled water.

I secreted a small smile in his direction and he secreted one back but we didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. Soon, Skid came around and our little private moment was in the wind but that was okay. I knew that I could or would never be with Thirteen, but having him around had become a little ray of light in an otherwise darkened room. Maybe it was foolish to hope or to dream at this stage but I couldn’t help but believe that with a guy like Thirteen around the club, maybe, just maybe things could get better.

“What you smiling about?” Skid asked me as he bellied up to the bar. I startled, had I been smiling? I glanced at the older biker and he raised an eyebrow under his faded black do-rag.

“I don’t know…” I frowned and flailed helplessly inside my head for a convincing lie, “I was just thinking about a piece I was going to try and create. I think I have all the pieces now.”

Skid chuckled, “It’s good to see you smile Rac. How ‘bout you get me a beer? One of them ones with the orange dude on the label.” He turned on his stool and started talking to Thirteen who had been grinning like an idiot behind his back but who quickly schooled his features into neutrality before Skid turned.

I rolled my eyes at Thirteen behind Skid’s back and got Skid the bottle he asked for, popping the top. I set it on the bar by his hand and he picked it up and drank, never breaking his stride as the two of them spoke bike. I was simply nothing more than furniture again which I didn’t like but at the same time was definitely the lesser of two evils.

Pretty soon Gordy, Pipes and Cooter came in from the front of the club and I was serving them up drinks when Pig-Pen and Griz made their arrival. The rest of the guys started to trickle in from the front or the back lot and girls started coming intermixed with the guy’s arrival. The party was in full swing the sky dark outside when Gordy swore and pounded his fist on the bar.

“God damn fucking son of a bitch!” he bellowed, looking at the lighted screen on his phone. Griz shoved down on the head of the strung out broad sucking him off and she choked, struggling.

“What is it now?” he demanded and let her up. She stood up disgusted and stumbled towards the bathrooms.

“Trouble!” Gordy declared, “But if we all go now we might make it, Ace and Deuce are holed up at the North West safe house, says Sacred Hearts have ‘em pinned down, four of ‘em.” Griz stood up and tucked himself back in his pants doing up his jeans.

“Boys! We’re goin’ huntin’!” he yelled. A cheer went up and I swallowed hard, Thirteen stood.

“Not you!” Gordy stabbed a finger at him.

“Take Coon to your place and keep her locked down. She’s our last bet on making any god damned money.”

Thirteen raised an eyebrow, “I live in a cabin with no electricity!” he declared.

“So fucking what!?” Pig-Pen called, “Don’t care if she’s comfortable, so long as she can produce. Don’t be god damned pussy over her pussy!”

Thirteen gave a shrug and I gathered my purse. The guys were all going out the back door to the parking lot where they kept their bikes I could already hear some of them firing up. Dredd and Flyer were chasing out the club sluts, which truthfully there weren’t many left hanging around since the club’s drug supply started drying up. I came around the bar and Pig grabbed me by the elbow, hard.

“You’re my bitch, so don’t be getting any ideas about spreading those whore legs of yers for Pretty boy over there,” he muttered savagely in my ear, his breath washing over me, a fetid mixture of whiskey and cigarettes with an overlay of just plain rot.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I plastered on a fake as hell sincere smile, “I know who takes care of me,” I said.

“Damn right.” And as if to prove his point he shoved his mouth against mine and his tongue in my mouth all the while looking daggers at Thirteen. I gave little resistance. I didn’t want or need any bruises except the ones that were likely imprinted on my arm from where he gripped me, besides that, I’d learned a long, long time ago that resistance was futile and only hurt more in the end. Pig-Pen finally broke the kiss and thrust me in Thirteen’s direction before going out the door.

“You good to ride?” he asked. I nodded grimly. I just wanted outside so I could spit. Thirteen grabbed my coat off the hook in the wall behind the bar and handed it to me and I shrugged into it.

“C’mon.” he put a hand on my shoulder and made like he was shoving me in front of him out the door, though his grip on my shoulder was light, not painful. He put on his helmet and glasses sitting astride his bike. I put on the spare and with one final brave smile at Pig who was glaring at me and standing with Griz and Gordy I got on behind Thirteen.

Text Copyright © 2015 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

 
Pre - Order Now
 
Amazon:  US ~ UK ~ CA ~ AUS
 
 
 
 
About The Author 
 
A.J. Downey is a born and raised Seattle, WA Native. She finds inspiration from her surroundings, through the people she meets and likely as a byproduct of way too much caffeine.

She has lived many places and done many things though mostly through her own imagination... An avid reader all of her life it's now her turn to try and give back a little, entertaining as she has been entertained. She lives in a small house in a small neighborhood with a larger than life fiancé and one cat.
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Monday, July 27, 2015

Out of Time by Beth Flynn



 
OUT OF TIME is the HIGHLY ANTICIPATED sequel to NINE MINUTES where Grizz, Kit & Grunt's gritty tale continues!  You aren’t going to want to miss this!
NOW AVAILABLE
 
 
 
Prologue
1950s, Central Florida
 
The slap was hard and almost knocked him to his knees. They wobbled for a split second, but he managed to regain his stance and glared hard at his father.
“Your mother said you missed the bus and had to hitchhike home.”
He tasted blood in his mouth where the slap had caused him to bite the inside of his cheek. He knew his next comment would bring another blow. He braced himself.
“Ida is not my mother.”
Another hard one, this time to the side of his head, which caused a ringing in his ear. This was nothing. He’d endured worse. He didn’t know why it bothered his father so much when he said this. Ida herself was the first to remind him that she wasn’t his mother.
“Don’t fuck with me, boy. Where were you?”
“It’s the last day of school. Some of us had to stay after to help the teachers clean out their classrooms.” This was a lie. He’d gotten in a fight that day. He’d snapped when a snooty rich kid made fun of him.
The kid was new and had only been enrolled for the last two weeks before school let out for the summer. He was too new to have been warned. The new kid had asked him in the boy’s room if he picked his clothes out of the garbage can that morning. He’d left the idiot dazed and bloody on the bathroom floor, then calmly washed his hands and went back to his classroom. He’d looked at the big clock over the blackboard. Less than fifteen minutes until summer started. Hopefully, his dad wouldn’t work him to death and he’d be able to keep an eye out for her. For Ruthie.
He’d been on the loaded school bus, ready to pull away, when the driver reached over and opened the door. The substitute principal stood at the front of the bus and quietly perused the group of kids. When he saw who he was looking for, he pointed and indicated with his finger. Follow.
Damn. He’d almost made it out of there.
They never discussed the alleged crime as they made their way back into the school and to the principal’s office. He simply bent over the desk and endured the paddling. It wasn’t so bad and didn’t even compare to the beatings he’d received from his father. Beatings that had left permanent scars on his back and other parts of his body. He may have been young, but he knew this fucker, a temporary replacement for the school’s regular principal who was out recovering from surgery, was enjoying this way too much. Would probably lock his office door and jerk off after sending him to find his own way home. Fucking pervert. The world was foul.
So, he’d hitchhiked and ended up walking the last seven miles to get home and now stood there, facing the wrath of his father. His stepmother stood off to the side leaning back against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. A hot, stale breeze floated in from the window above the kitchen sink.
His stepmother. Ida. He’d hated her for as long as he could remember. He had no memory of his real mother. He was told she’d died in this house giving birth to him. It wasn’t really a house so much as a shack in the middle of nowhere. A two-bedroom hovel situated on several acres surrounded by orange groves as far as the eye could see. His father was a skilled carpenter by trade, but for reasons that made no sense to his son, he preferred this destitute existence. He could have made a decent living, could’ve lived in a home not so far from the modern world—as modern as you could get in the fifties. He chose instead to live in a dilapidated old house that had been passed down for generations. He never once used his carpentry skills to make it into a real home. He’d slap some tar on the roof if it leaked or replace a busted pipe, but other than some hodgepodge repairs, he never lifted a finger. It was crumbling around them.
Maybe it was because his father considered himself the king of his castle and he could hold reign over his unworthy subjects. Maybe the brutality he unleashed here made him feel an iota of power that he didn’t feel in the real world. Maybe knowing that he could provide a nice and safe environment, but purposely chose not to, was part of the psychotic seed that had been implanted in his personality. He wasn’t just a bad man. He was worse than that. He prided himself too much on withholding any good he could do for his family.
That made him pure evil in his son’s eyes.
Before she’d married, Ida had worked as a maid for a wealthy family in West Palm Beach. His father had met up with a couple of other laborers to make the long drive down to a mansion situated on the beach to spend a few days doing carpentry work and repairs. He returned with his three comrades and a glowing Ida, who had finally, finally snagged herself a man. She had become tired of being someone’s maid, and when a hardworking, widowed family man came along and showed a hint of interest, she jumped. Unfortunately for her, she jumped too quickly and without hesitation. She hadn’t realized then that she was jumping from the frying pan right into a fire that was even worse. Overnight, she went from being a lonely, overworked maid to a lonely, overworked, and abused housewife.
No, he had no good memories of Ida. Maybe she’d started out trying to do her best. To make their shack a home, to be a mother to her new husband’s young son. But if she had started out that way, he had no recollection of it. Maybe she wasn’t always the horrible person he knew. Maybe his father made her that way. It didn’t matter. He hated her no matter what. He hated her because he knew what she was doing to her own daughter. His half-sister, Ruthie.
Ruthie was a sweet and trusting child who’d captured his heart since the day she was born. She was a happy little girl who was always smiling in spite of the mistreatment her mother inflicted. He spent every second that he wasn’t at school or working caring for his little sister. He adored her and did everything he could to protect her from his parents, especially Ida. He made sure she ate when she was sent to bed without supper. He made sure she was bathed. He couldn’t do it every day, but he did it as often as he could manage. He erased evidence of her bathroom accidents, making sure to wash out her clothes in the creek and let them dry before returning them to her dresser. He wiped away her tears and kissed her boo-boos.
Unfortunately, there were too many even for him to kiss away.
Every night she’d say, “Brother, tell me a story. Tell me a happy story where things don’t hurt and everybody is nice.”
He would pull her close in the bed they’d shared ever since she was a baby and, ignoring the stench of their unwashed bodies, he would make up happy stories to tell her. Anything to make her forget, just for a little while. They would watch the stars from their bedroom window and sometimes he‘d even use them in his stories.
“See the brightest star, Ruthie?” he’d tell her as they gazed out their window. “That’s you. You’re the brightest, most beautiful star in the sky.”
“Where are you, Brother? Are you there, too?” she asked him once.
“I’ll always be the one that’s closest to you.”
He didn’t know if the stories he made up were happy ones. He didn’t know what happiness was himself, so how could he tell a four-year old? But he tried.
Once in a while, after he was certain his father and Ida were asleep, he’d go to the back screen door and let Razor in to sleep with them, too. Razor was a big black Rottweiler that had wandered up to their house one day and never left. His father refused to let the dog stay and insisted he didn’t need another mouth to feed, that he’d shoot the dog if it didn’t leave on its own. The dog was smart. Sensing the father’s animosity, it would come around only at night and wait for the handout left for him on the far side of the barn. His father finally relented; he decided maybe the dog wasn’t so bad after all when his barking woke them up one night to warn them that a wild animal was trying to get into the chicken coop. The hen’s squawking never reached their sleeping ears, but the stray dog’s barking and pawing at their back door did. His father let Razor stay, but he had to be kept outside.
Now, the beating done for the day, his father stared at him for a few seconds. Finally, he said, “Get your fucking chores started. Don’t come back in until they’re all finished. You don’t get done before supper and you don’t eat.”
The boy didn’t need to glance at his stepmother to know she would purposely serve a very early supper that day. He headed out the back screen door and let it slam behind him.
“C’mon, Razor,” he said as he headed for the ramshackle barn.
It was dark outside when he finally finished his chores. He found some food he’d stashed in the barn and silently ate, sharing half with his dog. After washing up in the rain barrel, he headed into the house and crawled into bed with Ruthie, pulling her close. She moaned.
“Brother is here, Ruthie. Do you want a story?” He was exhausted, but couldn’t fall asleep thinking he would let her down without a story.
“My stomach hurts,” she whispered.
“Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?” he whispered back.
“No. It’s not that kind of hurt.”
“What kind of hurt is it? Are you hungry?
“Mommy stepped on it.”
He stiffened, then squeezed his eyes shut. He was glad she didn’t want a happy story tonight because the only one he could think of was one where he strangled Ida with his bare hands.



 
Haven’t read this series yet, check out Nine Minutes for
ONLY $2.99!
 
About the Author:
 
 
Beth Flynn is a fiction writer who lives and works in Sapphire, North Carolina, deep within the southern Blue Ridge Mountains. Raised in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Beth and her husband, Jim, have spent the last 17 years in Sapphire, where they own a construction company. They have been married 31 years and have two daughters and two dogs. In her spare time, Beth enjoys writing, reading, gardening, church and motorcycles, especially taking rides on the back of her husband’s Harley. She is a five-year breast cancer survivor.
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