30 September 2016

Release Blitz & Giveaway ~ Midnight Scent, Amour Toxique #1, by Dori Lavelle

Midnight Scent
Series: Amour Toxique #1
Author: Dori Lavelle
Genre: New Adult Romantic Thriller/Suspense
 Release Date: September 27, 2016


I find the love letters in my new dorm room, left behind by a previous occupant.

They're meant for someone else, but the words speak to me. They slide off the page and wrap themselves around my body, touching me in places I never knew existed.

I'm falling in love with each word, unable to stop myself.

And I don't even know his name.

Until they tell me.

His name is Judson Devereux. They say he’s toxic. Falling for him will be a mistake.

I want to believe them. I want to walk away. But the words refuse to be erased from the invisible parts of me.

I'm hooked on the scent of his poison. It’s bad for me. It could kill me. But I’m in too deep.

*This series contains sexual content, dark themes, and violence that could trigger emotional distress in readers.*

*Amour Toxique is a serial that unfolds over three volumes.*

Purchase Links
Amazon US / UK / CA / AU

Author Bio

Dori Lavelle, is a mother, wife, and a sucker for happy-ever-afters and mint chocolate.

Growing up, Dori read a lot, and when she wasn't happy with a particular ending, she wrote a different one, just for herself. Before long, she was writing stories when she should have been doing homework. The time has come for her to share the stories she cooks up in her head.

Author Links


Cover Reveal ~ Kill Me, Kiss of Death #1, by LP Lovell

Kill Me
Series: Kiss of Death #1
Author: LP Lovell
Genre: Dark Romance
Cover Design & Photographer: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink
Model: Casey Creswell
Release Date: October 24, 2016



To many, I am little more than a myth. The Kiss of Death, a hired killer, revered by the some of the greatest criminal organisations in the world. Trained by the bratva themselves, without conscience, without mercy, the perfect soldier. I’ll kill anyone… for a price. Death doesn’t discriminate, she sells to the highest bidder, but even I have a weakness.


I want one thing—power. But power is merely a game of strategy. The pieces are on the chess board. Death is my queen, and also my pawn. She’ll paint this city red in exchange for the one thing she wants. Now all I have to do is watch it all play out. She’s nothing more than a weapon, and yet, I find myself wanting to dance with death, to possess her. And I always get what I want.

A game of power. A risk that could cost her everything. An obsession that would see the world burn at their feet. A bloodied king. A broken queen. Kill me or kiss me?

Pre-order Links
Amazon US / UK

Author Bio

Lauren Lovell is an indie author from England.

She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards.

Lauren is a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be suffering from slight peen envy.

LP loves to hear from readers so please get in touch.

Author Links

Blog Tour ~ Blue by Jill Patten

Amazon US | UK | CA
Free on Kindle Unlimited


AP new - synopsis.jpg

He is a thief.

She is his victim.

Lance King, known as Blue, is the charming, local surfer bad boy everyone falls for. This comes in handy since he enjoys taking advantage of privileged college kids as they throw money around wherever they go. What turns out to be a typical spring break quickly changes when he meets the one tourist who exceeds his expectations.

Phoebe McCormick is on her way to having the time of her life. With Panama City Beach in her sights, and her two best friends by her side, the possibilities are endless, or so she thinks. What she isn’t expecting is Blue, the local surfer to nearly ruin her long anticipated spring break. Her carefree attitude and his charismatic personality is the perfect combination for a successful friendship, but their relationship turns out to be anything but. Once the fantasy world of spring break is over and life resumes in Pennsylvania, a secret she thought she’d be able to keep hidden emerges, making it difficult to ignore.

He steals her money, but she will steal something far more valuable from him — a memento that will forever change his life.

She is a thief.

He is her victim.

**This is a standalone**

Maybe he can be my one-night stand. I’d do him.

Shouldn’t I at least have a memorable night of sex before I go back home? Hell, I’m getting ahead of myself. He might not have any interest in sex. He might be one of those rare guys who still have morals and not fuck the girl until the second date.

He pushes up on his arms, giving me room to breathe. “Please don’t tell me you’re mad. My feelings will be hurt if you didn’t enjoy that as much as I did.” He smiles and it’s infectious.

I shake my head. “No, I’m not mad. A little surprised. And you’ve left me wondering what your intentions are now,” I state, challenging him to spill his guts.

“Does there have to be an agenda?” he asks. “Can’t a hot guy such as myself kiss a beautiful girl like you all because he wants to see if her succulent lips taste as good as they look?”

I narrow my eyes at him then bust out in laughter. “That has to be the corniest pick-up line I’ve ever heard. Do you say that to all the girls?”

“No. Just the ones I want. Just you,” he says with a blank expression. His clear, blue eyes burn into mine with too much seriousness for my liking. Whatever it is he sees in me, he needs to erase the vision quick. I’m not one to settle into a serious relationship, especially a long distance one. And I’m definitely not one for a good lay whenever he sees fit, if that’s what he’s going for. If sex is involved, it’s because I want it.

My mouth suddenly goes dry. I don’t know how to take his declaration. “Well, okay then.”

He rolls away from me, resting his body on his elbows. “Sorry.” He looks up at the starry sky. “Molly gets pissed at me when I don’t use my filter.” He turns his head and looks my way. “I’m kind of straight-forward. I don’t see any sense in pussy-footing around with what I want to say—or do.”

“Nothing wrong with that, I guess,” I say with a shrug. “I prefer someone to be honest with me rather than feed me a line of bullshit. But as for doing what you want…that can get you in a lot of trouble. You’re lucky I didn’t haul off and punch you in the face.” I chuckle. “But, you’re Molly’s brother and I like her, so I don’t want to screw things up with her because of you. Besides, you’re not bad-looking either. And you’re a pretty good kisser, too,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.

Catching me off guard as I’m staring into the same sky as him, he’s back in my personal space. This time his pretty eyes are hidden in the depths of the night.

“Perfect. Because I’m ready for another round of your tongue,” he says as he goes in for the kill.

I shove my arm in between his body and mine before our lips touch and push him off of me. “Don’t press your luck, lover boy.”

Dramatically, he falls on his back, holds his hands over his heart, and throws in a few faux sniffles. “Wounded.”

Tilting my head in his direction, I give him an apathetic glare. “Tuck your lip back in before you get sand in it.”

He shakes his head. “Damn, girl, you’re harsh. You reject me then pour salt in my wounds.”

I can see him looking at me from the corner of his eye, and he’s trying to contain the smirk on his face. I hope he never attends acting classes because he’ll fail miserably.

He quickly flips over to his side and props himself up on his elbow. “So, you wanna go out later tonight?”

“Wasn’t one rejection enough?”

“Psshhh…I’m secure enough with my game to allow a little refusal here and there. It obviously hasn’t stopped me.”

“So I’m a game to you?”

“No, baby cakes, you’re definitely not a game. I can already see that you don’t like to play,” he adds, protruding his bottom lip.

Would I be a bad person if I admit I want to suck on that lip? Of course, I won’t tell him, but his lips are mighty tasty. And they felt amazing against mine. Maybe I could have a little fun with him while I’m here. Stick to one guy for the week instead of taking my chances with some random freak. I sort of know him, and I sort of know his sister. They seem like good people, so he would be perfect. Plus, he carries a love ‘em and leave ‘em vibe, and that is, after all, what I need. No strings attached.

Propping myself up on an elbow, I turn to face him. “Because I feel sorry for you and your enormous ego, I’ll hang out with you tonight. Let me text my besties one more time to see how they are.”

AP  new -about the author.jpg

Jill Patten was born a Yankee, but raised a southerner. She lives in the small town of Mayberry, North Carolina which was made famous by a popular TV show back in the sixties. (Maybe there will one day be a statue of her at the end of Main Street. Ha! A girl can dream, right?)

Jill has always loved to read, even during reading labs in middle school for reading comprehension. Judy Blume was her first author she hero-worshipped, maturing to revere the works of Stephen King. With all the fantastic authors today, she simply cannot choose a favorite. Her taste is very eclectic and she loves almost all genres. When she's not captivated by her fictional characters, she spends time with her sweet husband and two beautiful children.

Music is her muse. Jill also loves elephants, sarcasm, and anything made with sugar, especially sweet tea. She enjoys all things rude and crude and laughs at stuff she probably shouldn't. She has been accused of being bossy a time or two, but doesn't really see it herself.

All in all, Jill is just a small town girl in this great big world trying to enable your book addiction.

Oh, and if you read her book, please leave her a review - good or bad, she'll love you forever.


Blog Tour & Giveaway ~ Landing The Air Marshal, Snowpocalypse #1, by Jennifer Blackwood


Landing the Air Marshal
Snowpocalypse #1
by Jennifer Blackwood
Publication Date: September 12, 2016
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Brazen, Contemporary Romance



It was meant to be a one-night stand. One wicked night with an irresistibly sexy passenger. That’s all Air Marshal Gage Michaels can afford–his career comes before everything else. Too bad the snowpocalpyse of the century has different plans for him and Abby Winters. Before the night’s over, they find themselves snowed in at the most luxurious hotel in the city.Abby’s scouting job of a NYC penthouse should be quick, simple, and definitely shouldn’t include a sexy-as-hell man messing up the 3000 count sheets that will be featured in her company’s next blockbuster hit. Not when she’s up for a promotion that could skyrocket her entire career in the film industry. Still, she can’t refuse what the weather gods so obviously want her to have. She’ll give in, just this once.

Leaving is tougher than either of them could have imagined. But they’re two people who have nothing in common, living on opposite coasts. There’s no way they can ever be together. Right?


Amazon US | UK | CA | Paperback
B&N | Kobo | iBooks



Chapter One

“Please keep your tray tables in the upright and locked position. We’re expecting a bit of turbulence during the first hour of the flight.”

This was it. Abby Winters was going to die. She could hear Samuel L. Jackson’s voice in the back of her mind yelling, “This motherfucking plane is going to take a nosedive into the motherfucking tarmac.” Though really, threat of turbulence or not, the same thought occurred every takeoff and landing. But this time was different; she could feel it. The plane rolled out of the gate in an uneven fashion—maybe a flat tire?—and there was way too much rattling going on underneath her to pass a safety check. The plane was falling apart, she knew it, and they were going to crash to a fiery death during landing because all the screws fell off during the red-eye flight. Yes, she was definitely going to die.

Abby jammed her thumb into the button on the side of her seat, and the light above her head illuminated red. She needed the flight attendant. Now. If she was going to die, she at least wanted to knock back the complementary first-class champagne and go out with a buzz.

A blond flight attendant poked her head through the curtain of the drink station, looking less than pleased that she was being summoned minutes before takeoff, presumably right before she and the other flight attendants would begin their What to do in case we all crash and die spiel. Really, let’s face it—if the plane went down, there would be no need for the damn flotation devices seeing as the most water they were traveling over was in A-list celebrities’ pools.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The flight attendant flashed a smile that seemed a little too rehearsed, much like the look Abby gave her slimy coworker Jeremy every time he popped into her office unannounced.

“I need a drink.” She swallowed past the thick lump in her throat, even thirstier now that she’d said it aloud. Hopefully they had a bottle of Dom, because really, why not go with the good stuff for the inevitable last meal?

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but you’ll have to wait until we get up in the air and past the turbulence.”

Abby worked to keep her features impassive, even if she really wanted to scowl at the woman. She knew she didn’t get preferential treatment in terms of getting a drink minutes before takeoff, but damn it, what was the point of being in first class if it didn’t have any perks—like getting wasted before imminent death?

The attendant smiled sweetly and ignored Abby’s glare, instead going into her spiel about the emergency exit to the nearly empty cabin. There were a whopping two people in first class, herself included. When the flight attendant got to the part about the proper way to fasten a seat belt, she gave her own belt a reassuring tug. Abby had that on lockdown the second she’d plopped down, the buckle digging into her hips. If this plane did go down, fat chance of her falling out of the seat during a crash. Her ex-boyfriend, Rick, had called her the Organization Task Master, along with fun-sucker and vanilla—hence the “ex”—but being a free spirit hadn’t gotten her on the fast track to success in her job. Meticulous attention to detail had. Like the fact that the aircraft was listing ever so slightly toward the right, which put her frantic mind into overdrive at the thought of a flat tire.

Just as the flight attendant disappeared through the curtain, another came from the coach cabin. “Sir, we’re about to take off. Please pick any seat you’d like, quickly.”

“Thanks,” came a deep, rich voice that caressed her skin like expensive cashmere.

She couldn’t see him, because of the whole squinting-waiting-for-imminent-death thing, but she didn’t even want to put a face to that sexy voice. It would probably be a disappointment. Much like when she googled her favorite Disney character with the sexy baritone voice—utterly disenchanting. She’d never think of Aladdin in the same way again.

Please don’t sit next to me. Please don’t sit next to me.

Last thing she needed was Mr. Sexy Voice to witness her in-flight freak out.

“Mind if I sit here?” By the volume of the question, she could tell he was still in the back row of first class—her row.

Aw, crap. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled it through her mouth, ruffling her bangs along her forehead. This guy didn’t know he’d just earned himself front row tickets to Abby Winters: The Airline Chronicles.

She glanced over at his midsection—nice, tailored pants, and a crisp, white button-up. She’d like to tell him there were exactly four other rows to choose from, but her mother had given her the gift of proper manners. And maybe a mild generalized anxiety disorder. But really, what parent didn’t screw up their kids to some degree? Hence the fact that kids weren’t even a blip on her radar.

“I don’t mind.” She totally minded. Not that being huddled in the corner of a germ-infested seat was any indication. Nope.

He sat down, and his scent wafted over to her side of the seat—some fresh, woodsy cologne that must have been mixed with pheromones because her inclination to lean over and take a deep sniff was overpowering. It said I like camping and hot showers, both things she also really liked.

She caught herself leaning toward him, and shifted quickly back to her corner. Shit, what was in that cologne? Crack? She hadn’t even seen this man’s face yet—still didn’t want to, because she’d automatically copied and pasted Jensen Ackles’s handsome mug onto the guy, and this was just too good of a fantasy bubble to pop. If he didn’t live up to that, this cologne would be such a disappointment. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and focused on her breathing. That much she could control.

“Flight attendants, take your seats and prepare for takeoff,” the captain’s calm but authoritative voice boomed over the speakers.

Abby dug her fingers into her sweaty palms. Shit was about to get real in here. Amazing that, even though she traveled thirty weeks out of the year, the fear never subsided. Abby screwed her eyes shut and swiped her thumbs over her lucky four-leaf clover earrings. Silly superstition, but the earrings hadn’t failed her yet. Not when the person who’d gifted them to her was watching over her from heaven, making sure she made it to her destination. It was times like these that she really missed her father. He always had a way of calming her down. The serene Yin to her neurotic Yang.

Just as the plane rocketed off the tarmac, Abby mumbled a quick prayer to anyone who was listening upstairs and clenched the armrest with enough force to leave indents of her in-desperate-need-of-a-French-manicure nails in the aluminum.

This was the part she hated most, the hours spent in the air, where anything could happen and she was at the mercy of other people. And she hated putting her life in someone else’s hands. Hello, she’d seen that pilot movie with Denzel Washington where he flew drunk 90 percent of the time. That could be her pilot.

“Please don’t be drunk,” she whispered, more like a prayer than anything else.

“What?” the gruff voice next to her asked.

She shook her head. Man, it was true—you really could hear everything on these planes. “Sorry. I was just saying that I hope we have a good flight.” And by good, she meant arriving at her destination alive and in one piece.

“Supposed to be a rough one, but it’ll be all right.”

Maybe their definitions of “all right” were subjective. Because “all right” to her meant being unconscious for the whole thing—or intoxicated. Where was that damn champagne when she needed it?

If you looked up “control” in the dictionary, Abby’s picture was lined up with expert precision next to the definition. She oversaw all set designs and locations for her production company, people reported to her, she got shit done—and did it in four-inch heels with a smile. The fact that she was stuck in this POS plane that took away all her control made her want to curl up in a ball and let out a guttural scream. Okay, so Rick may have been spot-on with her need to be in charge. Maybe setting scheduled days to have sex, and making lists of acceptable positions, took it a tad bit too far, but she had a schedule to abide by, and she wanted to do it with maximum efficiency, all right?

They’d broken up over a month ago, and even though she was long past missing him, his parting words still stung. Was she really that boring? Or vanilla? Whatever. She didn’t have time to contemplate those things, she was too busy with work, work, with a heaping side of more work—all for the chance of a promotion to key set designer when Robert, the current occupant of that position, retired in four months. The only other competition was Jeremy—who would take any opportunity to step over someone with those black loafers to get what he wanted. And she’d be damned if his good-ol’-boy ass beat her out for the job.

The plane leveled out from its ascent. Woohoo! We didn’t crash into the tarmac! She took a calming breath through her nose and exhaled deeply out her mouth. First obstacle tackled, now if she could sleep through the rest of the flight, she’d be golden. She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Just as she found a position in which she might be comfortable enough to get some shut-eye, the plane rattled and took a nosedive toward the ground.

Abby let out a scream, arms flailing to latch onto anything to keep her steady. She clamped onto something hard to her right and closed her eyes so tight that stars sparked behind her lids. This was it. Her lucky earrings had failed her, and she was going to die on this motherfucking plane.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, the plane leveled out and the pilot came on the speakers. “Sorry about that.” The captain gave a nervous chuckle “It’s going to be a bumpy ride. Please stay in your seats until further notice.”

She still had her eyes closed, clinging on to…what was she holding? It was warm, unlike the cool metal of the armrest that dug into her thigh. Oh no. She pried one lid open and immediately regretted the decision.

Turned out that the “armrest” was an actual arm. A forearm really. A really, really nice, muscular forearm from what she could tell, covered by the crisp cotton of a man’s dress shirt and locked in the vice grip of her fingers.

Her gaze wandered up, breaking the Jensen Ackles spell. The very nice arm was part of a genetic-lottery-winning package, with a facial structure that should be cast as the lead in her company’s next film, and a pair of honey-colored eyes that pierced straight to her core. Crap. This was even better than anything her imagination had conjured up.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she wished she had a parachute so she could kamikaze straight out of this plane instead of face the fact that she’d just grabbed this guy and screamed. She released her grip on him and smoothed invisible wrinkles out of her skirt. “I’m so sorry. I…really hate flying.” That was by far the lamest sentence to ever come out of her mouth, beating out, Yeah, I came; that was good for me, too.

Oh God. She still had five hours left with this guy. If she were in the studio right now, a laugh track would be sounding in the background. Maybe she should ask the flight attendant to move her to a different seat. Because as embarrassing as that would be for a few minutes, that beat stewing for multiple hours.

After a moment of awkward silence, she looked up to see him smiling at her. One dimple popped out, and holy moly, if this guy wasn’t at least a model, someone needed to notify a talent agency, stat.

“I don’t mind a pretty girl on my arm,” he said and winked down at her.

An honest to God wink.

On a scale of one to cheesy, this ranked a solid Gouda. And yet her lower half was whispering something more along the lines of yes, please, can a pretty girl touch more than just your arm?

Um, whoa, that didn’t need to cross her mind. That thought had come from so far out of left field, she now had third-degree whiplash. If a guy pulled that line on her at a bar, she’d roll her eyes and tell Mr. Gouda to take a hike.

The smile reached all the way to the crease in his eyes. For a moment, she was transfixed by this stranger and the way he was able to command her attention with just one look. Heck, not even Jensen Ackles was capable of that when she’d met him the first day on set, and she sported mad lady boner for the guy. She continued holding this stranger’s gaze, and she suddenly forgot why this type of pickup line never worked, because it was sure as hell working on her right now.

Damn, he’d barely said two sentences to her in total, and she was totally drooling over this tantalizing package of pheromone cologne, gravelly voice, and bedroom eyes all tied up nicely with a tag labelled, Give me some of this. The guy was good.

And that was why she needed to reel it in. She shook her head, breaking this ridiculous stare-off that shouldn’t be happening with a complete stranger. Instead, she handled it the only tried and true way she knew: with sarcasm.

She set her mouth in a wry smirk, making sure to raise her brows, too, and said, “That line work on most women?” She knew the type. She dealt with them every day on set. So she shouldn’t even bat an eye with Mr. Gouda.

His smile widened. “I don’t know. First time someone’s ever grabbed onto me during a flight.”

Right. Because only crazy people manhandled strangers. She inwardly groaned at how awkward she’d become in the last few minutes. Good riddance poised control, hello awkward-teen self. Slap on some braces and a boom box, and the transformation would be complete.

Since when do you, Abby Winters, get flustered?

She shifted in her seat at this. The thought unnerved her. Because the answer was never. She never got flustered, not in board meetings when she had conflicting views with the producer, or even when she had to talk to the CEO of Yellow Raft. Where was the quick wit, the snarky retort? Left on the tarmac of LAX, presumably. Between the flight anxiety and the damn crack pheromones, her defenses had been stripped. And she did not like this one bit.

“What’s your name?” His voice had a slight southern drawl, one that made her stomach clench.

Back in high school, she’d been all about lists—apparently, her need for organization started at a young age. She’d ranked her top places to travel. Perfect jobs. Even one for all the attributes required in a future spouse. Accent definitely wasn’t on the list, but maybe she needed to reassess that one.


“Gage.” He stuck out his hand and she took it, her small hand engulfed in his large, callused one. She didn’t fail to notice the lack of wedding ring, and the fact that his nails were nicely trimmed. Or the fact that she was still holding his hand a few beats past socially acceptable. Whoops.

She retracted her hand and fumbled with her seat belt. “Er—um, thank you.” Okay, seriously, what was getting into her? If she could form coherent sentences around A-list celebrities, talking to a random complete stranger shouldn’t be that hard to do. This must be the flight anxiety. Yes, definitely flight anxiety. This was all because of the damn plane, not because she was sitting next to a guy with bedroom eyes and a chin that could cut glass.

She stole a glance his way. The prickles running down her spine could definitely be due to the sheer size of the guy. Even seated, it was evident he easily cleared six feet and could probably bench a Honda. Yes, that had to be it. In fact, it’d be smart to just stop looking at him altogether. And, if anything, Abby still had her wits, even if her brain was momentarily scrambled from takeoff.

She cleared her throat and looked down at his large hand cupped over his thigh. Those callused hands would pluck pleasure straight from her core if they molded against her breasts. On cue, her nipples hardened against the silk fabric of her shirt. Well, shit, apparently her body was not on board with this whole ignoring him thing.

Working eighty-hour weeks did zilch for her sex drive, but this man had amped it up to eleven within minutes.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Abby. Glad my arm could be of service to you today.” He smirked and, oh, did she want to slap the smugness right off his face.

“I don’t do that often.” She paused and cringed. “Okay, maybe I should page the flight attendant so we can drink away this awkwardness.”

He waved off her offer. “I don’t drink on planes, but thanks.”

What the hell was wrong with this dude? Intoxicated was the only state she wanted to be in when stuck in a metal contraption at thirty-six thousand feet.

“Business or pleasure?” The word pleasure in that deep, gravelly voice practically made her toes curl.

Abby choked on her spit, and heat climbed up her cheeks until the skin beneath her eyes was burning.
Was he a mind reader? If her thoughts were that transparent, she needed to schedule time on her calendar to work on that. “Excuse me?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Are you traveling for business or pleasure?”

Oh. It was a polite question. Of course, he’d been nothing but gentlemanly. She was the one who had all these very unwanted pervy thoughts.

Okay, maybe they weren’t necessarily unwanted, but definitely not timely. She needed to focus on the penthouse she’d be visiting in five hours. Yep, okay brain, go ahead and power down this unscheduled turned-on-ness and pick up the hint that this guy was just being polite. He was probably trying to make small talk in order to avoid being stabbed with an airline utensil by the crazy woman who screamed in his ear and grabbed the shit out of his arm. God, it sounded insane when she put it that way.

“Business. Going to check out a penthouse for the night, and then I get to relive plane purgatory all over again.” Lord help her.

“Wow. Penthouse. What type of business are you in, the mafia?” He raised his brows and swiped his thumb across his jaw.

She laughed, and their gazes met again. He rubbed his lips together, the edges around his mouth fading to a faint pink, and she couldn’t help but run her tongue over her bottom lip in response. They looked soft. Really soft. Kissably soft. Since turbulence had let up a bit, she couldn’t even blame the drumroll in her stomach on that. She could have sworn she saw a flicker of desire in his eyes, but chalked it up to being part of the whole dark, handsome, bend-me-over-the-seat-tray package.

Okay, it was time for her brain to shut off—or in her case, maybe reboot, because there was zero chance an airline hookup was going to happen. She’d already put her crazy on full display. Plus, airplanes carried MRSA, for crying out loud. Totally not sexy.

“Close. I work for a production studio. I’m a set scout. What about you?”

“I work in security. Private sector.” He flinched after he’d said the second part. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to tell her that? It was cryptic, nonetheless.

She didn’t even know what “private sector” meant exactly. She’d heard it in crime shows on television, but that was always for hitmen, top-secret government agencies, and rent-a-cops. But just one look at him, and he was decidedly too seasoned to be a mall cop. FBI? CIA? Whatever he was, he’d fill out a uniform nicely.

Yum. Uniforms. Ever since she’d binge-watched Blue Bloods, she’d had this silly fantasy of a cop busting out his handcuffs on her. Completely the opposite of what she’d normally want. But a man who risked his life for the safety of others did all the things to the space between her thighs. It almost erased the mortification of grabbing onto him from her mind.

In fact, now she wondered why he’d sat next to her in the first place. “Wait. Does that mean you’re profiling me?”

“Pretty young brunettes afraid of flying don’t typically fit a security risk profile. Should I be worried?”

A little thrill shot through her. He’d said she was pretty. Okay, maybe it was only implied. But still, she’d take it. She sure as heck didn’t need a man’s approval, but damned if it didn’t feel good to hear it every once in a while.

She knew what some of the production crew said behind her back. The terms “uptight” and “colder than a witch’s tit” may have been thrown around a few times. Those snide comments in the break room cut deeper than she cared to admit—not that she let her coworkers know it. So, hell yeah, it was a breath of fresh air to be talking to someone who didn’t know her planner addiction cost her more than her grocery budget for the month. Two words: washi tape.

In fact, she could be anyone she wanted to be, and he would be none the wiser. That thought kicked her heart rate up a few notches. Chances were at a steady zero percent that she’d ever see this guy again, so why not take a risk and loosen up for a few hours?

She sank back in her seat, trying to come up with a good response, one that said I’m not trying too hard, but I’m witty.

Ugh, this was ridiculous. Analyzing every frickin’ move was what got her this whole Sahara Desert sex life in the first place. Stop overthinking and get your big girl panties on. She’d never met a man in uniform in person, besides the Beverly Hills cop that issued her a speeding ticket, and flight phobia be damned, she was going to muster up the courage to flirt with him, because when the opportunity arose to hit on a man who served his country, you took it. “Shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Looks can be deceiving, you know.”

Admittedly, in terms of retorts, this was a little on the lame side, but not awful enough to elicit an eye roll. And it was much better than the caveman talk going through her head at the moment—must get closer to delicious hot man.

He took a long perusal, starting at her eyes and slowly working his way down to her hips. “Yes, they can be.”

He cleared his throat and reluctantly tore his gaze from her body, clearly conflicted. With what, she didn’t know. “I’m off duty right now, and so is any profiling.”

“Good to know. Because I can do some real damage with a nail file. Don’t even start me on the dangers of tweezers.” Much better. Finally, she was back to her witty self. All it took was the thought of him in a cop uniform, ripping off her shirt, buttons from her blouse flying, to give her the extra push.

His brows rose. “You’re just asking for trouble, aren’t you?” The playfulness in his tone said he was kidding, but the heat in his gaze hinted that he might perform a strip search for fun.

If she said yes, would he whip out some secretly stashed handcuffs? There would be absolutely no objection on her end.

“Yeah—” The plane rocketed through a bad bout of turbulence, and Abby’s arms went flying again. She went to clamp down on the armrest and missed by a good six inches, and instead grabbed the inside of Gage’s leg. And her fingers brushed against something that was definitely not his leg.

Abby quickly pulled her hand away, scooting as far against the window as possible. She pressed herself up against the cold plastic, the noise of the plane as it rocketed through the turbulence now deafening. She couldn’t even look at him after what she just did. Sweet baby Jesus, she just touched his dick. Could that even be classified as a dick, or maybe a Maglite? She should definitely not be thinking about his cock.

Think about work.

Yes, work. The reason she was on this plane in the first place. She needed to focus on the penthouse. With the extra-fluffy white duvet she’d asked to be put on the master bed. A bed that deserved the presence of the anaconda this guy was smuggling in his pants. One look at Gage and she knew he’d laugh her off the face of the planet if he saw her perfectly scheduled sex life—she couldn’t be the only person that did that, right? In fact, right now, she couldn’t even remember why she made that list in the first place, because she’d be willing to bend a few rules just this once for a chance with this sexy stranger.

Gage cleared his throat and crossed an ankle over his knee, scooting farther away from her, his body language completely closed off now. How did she know? Because she was still staring at his crotch like a bona fide creeper.

“Maybe I underestimated you. It’s not too late to do a frisk.” His lips quirked into a conspiratorial smile.

Her eyes widened, and she choked on her own spit. Real smooth. “Excuse me?”

A booming laugh that vibrated straight through her ribs sounded from Gage. He said, “I’m kidding.” He lifted a brow as his gaze followed Abby’s down to where she’d been honed in like the Eye of Sauron. “So you’re heading to New York City?” he asked.

Did someone say head? That must be why she had the sudden urge to complete this whole man-in-uniform fantasy and drop to her knees to find out what this guy was packing in his pressed pants. Maybe he’d even read her the Miranda rights as she went to town on him. Okay, she was officially sick and maybe should stop watching cop shows.

She needed to slam the brakes on that thought process. Since when did she ever want to give head? Uh, since she laid eyes—and hands—on this Gandy-size bulge that she was still staring at. “Yes.”

She inwardly groaned at how awkward she’d just made this whole situation with this complete gentleman. He was being polite, taking the crazy woman’s mind off the flight, and here she was, lusting after him like some high schooler with a freaking crush on her teacher.

Seriously, were the five hours of air travel hell over yet? Then she could get off this godforsaken plane and forget about this guy who scrambled her brainwaves. But all she could seem to think about were those rough hands ripping off her panties, working their way all over her body. No guy had ever teased this type of response out of her before, piercing through her immaculate armor…and she wasn’t about to start letting one now, especially not this guy, who was clearly not interested.

Plus, it was the running office joke that people in relationships, in any capacity, got soft. Miranda, the old set scout, got married, had kids, and where was her career? In the same place she dumped the contents of those cloth diapers she touted on Facebook. No thank you. With two major scouting trips in the next month, and the chance at a promotion in the near future, avoiding any kind of distraction was vital.

The pilot came over the speaker system, giving Abby a short reprieve from her thoughts. “We’re through most of the turbulence, so sit back and enjoy the ride. Our featured film will be starting shortly.”

A movie. Now that was something she could do without making an ass of herself. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, her pencil skirt riding up her thighs. The need pulsing between her legs amped up several notches.

Hello, sex drive, I hear you loud and clear, but I’m putting you in park. She swallowed hard, suddenly parched. God, where was that flight attendant? She was so thirsty. For a tall drink of Gandy-dick.
She really needed to stop thinking.

Hell, her body was burning up. And even the luxurious seat was no match for her uncomfortable wardrobe. Why had she stupidly chosen to wear this tight of a skirt on a five-hour flight? It looked cute in the mirror this morning. Now she wasn’t so sure she was actually a closet masochist.

Gage’s gaze flickered to her legs and then quickly diverted to the empty seat in front of him. The way he’d regarded the bare sliver of skin on her thigh cranked her internal temperature to a steady simmer. She’d probably imagined it, because his smile disappeared and he moved even farther away from her.

Abby busied herself with pulling her tablet out of her carry-on stowed under the seat in front of her, and powered it up. She had research to do. Her boss, Rob, had sent her another movie based in a penthouse, wanting her to research it and pick out elements that would be essential for her set for the filming of the billionaire romantic comedy, Blurred Lines.

She’d never seen the movie that Rob sent her, but heard from her best friend Amanda that it was heavy into the kinky stuff. Great. Gage would probably think she was off-the-charts bat-shit crazy watching this on a plane, but hell, she’d already grabbed his dick. There wasn’t much else she could do to embarrass herself further. Plus, this movie wasn’t going to study itself. She just needed to smoothly transition this stare down into a productive few hours.

She pointed to her tablet. “I’m going to watch a movie now.” Yeah, that came out real smooth.

“You enjoy that.” His previously friendly tone had turned imperceptibly formal, the same tone a flight attendant used when addressing passengers. He gave a curt nod and a small smile. Abby pressed her thighs together and pushed her tongue against her the back of her teeth. Gah, those dimples were her kryptonite. That, paired with that face, those biceps, the fresh shower smell, and the prospect of handcuffs, well, her panties were soaked and she hadn’t even started the movie.

About Jennifer Blackwood

Jennifer BlackwoodJennifer Blackwood is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. She lives in Oregon with her husband, son, and poorly behaved black lab puppy. When not chasing after her toddler, you can find her binging on episodes of Gilmore Girls and Supernatural, and locking herself in her office to write.

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29 September 2016

Release Blitz & Review ~ One Night In Sydney, City Nights Series, by Jan Graham

One Night in Sydney
by Jan Graham

I’m so excited about the release of One Night in Sydney. When I looked at the City Night’s series by Tirgearr Publishing and noticed the absence of any cities in Australia from its titles, well, I knew I had to do something to rectify the situation. 

I chose Sydney as my city to write about because I’m so familiar with it. I’ve always lived within driving distance (2.5hrs or less) of it, which means, heading into the hustle and bustle for theatre events or concerts is an easy thing to do. Sydney is not only a great source of live shows it’s also has amazing shopping areas, spectacular parks, museums, galleries, and the harbor precinct with the famous Opera House and Harbor bridge. 

All in all, it’s a spectacular place to visit, a great place to write about and, in One Night in Sydney, it’s the perfect place to fall for the man of your dreams.

Will passion win out over wise business sense in one of the most beautiful harbor side cities of the world?

Abigail Devon is all about business, until the dream of keeping her company alive fails and she finds herself seeking distraction in the arms of a tempting stranger she met on the plane. Kane Matheson is a man like no other, and once Abby gives into her attraction to him, passions spark and a night of erotic pleasure begins.

Kane can’t believe his luck when his flight to Sydney places Abby along his path to a fun filled weekend. She’s his kind of woman—business minded, clever, and with curves in all the right places. When he discovers they have more in common than savvy business expertise and undeniable sexual heat, he’s faced with a daunting choice, and left wondering if pleasure can win out over wise business sense in one of the most beautiful harbor side cities of the world.

Amazon US | UK

One Night in Sydney Releases on September 28th
A 99c preorder special is available at Amazon until October 2nd


You know, if you like, we could hang out together in the city for a bit, maybe when you’ve finished your busy day.” Kane didn’t look at her this time; speaking from his reclined position, head tilted back against the rest with his eyes closed. “I only have to try on a suit and then I’m done for the day. You could meet me there, let me know if you think I look okay, you know, thumbs up or down, and then we could grab a bite… or something. Whatever takes your fancy, beautiful.”

He raised his lids and angled himself slightly to look at her for the final part of his statement, the wicked expression and cheeky glint in his eyes giving Abby the distinct impression he hoped that he’d be the something that took her fancy. He did. But it couldn’t happen.

Abby didn’t believe in love at first sight, but she did believe in lust at first sight and Kane ticked all her boxes. Feeling breathless, hardened nipples, feeling flushed when they touched, and that increasing ache between her legs. Luckily the flight was a short one, so she’d be able to escape him soon enough. In her party days they probably would have been in the bathroom, reaffirming her membership in the mile-high club, but those days were behind her. She doubted she’d renew that membership again any time soon.

“I really don’t think that’s possible. But thanks for the offer.” She wondered if he knew she was lying. Of course it was possible, all she had to do was say yes. She merely chose not to.

“That’s a shame. I have this feeling we’d get along really well.” He tore the edge off the bottom of a page in his magazine, grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket, scribbled a number on it and handed it to her. “In case you change your mind.”

Abby laughed and stared at the mobile number in her hand. He certainly was persistent.

“I assume you’ve run out of business cards?” She continued to chuckle as the plane began its descent. “You did say you understood business, right?”

“I did. I also said I was on a pleasure trip. I’ve left all business accessories at the office. This weekend, I’m just a regular guy who uses any piece of paper on hand to give the woman he likes his number.”

Oh Lord, thank heavens the plane had just touched down. She folded the paper, slipped her fingers into the front of her shirt and tucked the number into her bra. It was a mistake to put it there, and Abby knew it the moment her gaze met Kane’s, who was now standing waiting for her to step out into the aisle.

“What?” she asked innocently as Kane stared down at her cleavage with a devilish grin on his face. “It’s just a silly habit I picked up in my partying days. I’d pop anything important in my bra and that way I wouldn’t lose it.”

Grabbing her handbag from the floor, she stood and moved to walk out into the aisle but Kane blocked her way. His body forming a human wall as he retrieved her bag from the overhead cabin. Luggage sorted, Kane didn’t move, fixing her in place with his heated gaze.

“I’m glad you think I’m important.” His devilish grin didn’t waver and he spoke in a tone laced with lust. “I’m also delighted to know that when you take off your clothes tonight and get naked, you’ll be thinking about me.”

She was about to burst into flames. Abby raised her hand, placing it on his chest with the intention of pushing him back, only to find her fingers lingered on the defined muscle beneath her touch.

“We’ll see,” she whispered.

Kane placed his hand over hers, gently gripped her fingers and raised them to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles tenderly and smiled. “We will. Now off to your very busy business day, Abigail Devon.” Stepping back, Kane handed over her bag before ushering her into the aisle. “I look forward to receiving your call later today.”

Unsure how she made it to the plane’s exit on trembling legs, Abby breathed a sigh of relief once she made it into the terminal. Allowing the disembarking crowd to carry her forward, she picked up her pace. The more distance she put between Kane Matheson and herself, the better. Today was all about saving her company, not indulging in a quickie with a man she met on a plane.


Kane Matheson is on his way to Sydney for the wedding of his best mate. He's a hard working businessman that has no time for relationship, one night stands are preferred at this stage of his life. And he's got his sights set on the sexy woman that just sat next to him on the plane.

Abigail Devon is in town in a last ditch effort to save the family business. The past six months she's been working her butt off to keep the business going, but circumstance arise that put her between a rock and a hard place. If this last ditch effort doesn't pan out, she'll have to sell.

Abby doesn't have time to succumb to Kane's charms, but when she runs into him a second time their attraction won't be denied. One night might be just what she needs.

But when new information comes to light, the budding relationship is put into turmoil. Can they find a way to work through their issues in order to have more than just one night?

One Night In Sydney is a fast paced, seductive read that will leave you hot and bothered. The chemistry is electrifying and leaps off the pages. I love how Kane pursues Abby even when he knows she's mad at him. I love Abby's heart and how she puts it into her work. Her emotions are worn on her sleeve, but she won't let anyone take advantage of her.

When Kane and Abby get together, you better watch out because the sparks fly. Their passion is intense and sensuous. Just like the light show they saw, their connection is spectacular.

I enjoyed this book and recommend it anyone looking for a quick, alluring escape from everyday life.

About the Author

Jan Graham is an author of Contemporary Romance and Romantic Suspense, all her writing is erotic and some includes BDSM elements. She has numerous published titles to her credit, with more to come once she overcomes her current bout of procrastination. Jan lives in Newcastle, Australia where she writes, reads, feeds her Netflix addiction and drinks coffee with friends.  

For those who enjoy labels and tags, as well as being an author, Jan is a blogger, a submissive, an aunt, dyslexic, a lover of all things erotic, naughty, a participant in the BDSM community, a widow, an orphan, and a member of The Australian Sex Party (no it’s nothing kinky, they are a legit political group). 

In short, she is generally a bit of an eccentric who lives her life slightly left of center. You can find out more about Jan and her work by stalking her on the various social media sites where she occasionally hangs out.

Excerpt Reveal ~ Use Somebody, Fix You #3, by Beck Anderson


We stand in a ridiculous line (my opinion) to grab a coffee at the original Starbucks, and Macy pulls out her phone.

“Now we’ll take our coffees and go drink them somewhere cool.” She pulls me along back the way we came, hops on the Link again, headed back toward the hotel.

“Where is this cool place?” I fight the urge to take the reins. She’s lost. We’re headed nowhere.

“Just wait. It’s gonna be cool. I asked the concierge about it before you got up, too, so it’s not just me and Google that thinks so.”

We walk a short block in the opposite direction of the hotel, past the gleaming steel and glass public library, which Macy takes several pictures of as we walk.

We cross the street, and she walks up to the front doors of a grey stone modern office building.

“What?” I feel a little unsettled. I’m the one who does the surprising.

“Trust me.” She takes my hand and pulls me in through the revolving doors.

We get on the elevator, and she presses the button for the seventh floor.

“Okay.” I stand next to her, but I’m concentrating mostly on the way it feels to have her hand on mine. I think about her lips on mine, her hips against mine…

And then she coughs. It’s two, quick coughs, but there’s that rattle again.

And my mind’s back on the business of keeping her well, keeping her safe.

We get off the elevator. She looks like a kid with a great secret. “Just wait. This is so cool.”

“You haven’t been here, how do you know?”

“Don’t be a crank. Nobody likes the stick in the mud.”


She pulls me through another set of chrome and glass doors.

And yeah, she’s right. It’s pretty cool.

So apparently Macy from Teton County, Idaho, has discovered the rooftop park hidden in the middle of downtown Seattle. And it’s gorgeous. She hands me my coffee and walks over to the railing. The sun is out, and the water and the waterfront is laid out in front of us.

“There’s the Space Needle! We’re going there later today. After dinner.”

I laugh. “Are you at least going to let me pick a spot for dinner?”

“Do you want to?” She doesn’t look like she wants me to.

“There’s a great place I know, and it’s a short walk from the hotel.”

“Fine.” She takes a sip from her coffee and looks out over the view.

I kiss her on the cheek again. “Don’t sulk.”

She turns and kisses me full-on, on the lips, for the briefest possible moment, before pulling away and facing out to the view again. “I’m not.” I taste mint and feel sparks down to the base of my spine.

Then she smiles the slyest, crookedest grin I’ve seen. I haven’t seen her smile like that.

And I grin back.

Use Somebody is Beck Anderson's newest Hollywood standalone!

Releasing October 8th. Now Available for Pre-order!

Amazon US | UK


Jeremy King, Hollywood über-agent to the stars, knows that sharks gotta swim. He’s one of them, after all. He’s never met a deal he couldn’t strike or an argument he couldn’t win. LA is his kind of town—they both never stop moving.

So when his friend and client, movie star Andrew Pettigrew, invites him on a “man-cation” to the wilds of Idaho for a little fly-fishing, Jeremy’s not so sure. He might not have cell service. There’s no way there’ll be any supermodels to woo. And his idea of the great outdoors is a drive down the Pacific Coast Highway in his Tesla Model S—moose definitely do not factor into the picture.

Fitting then that because of a moose, he meets Macy Shea Summerlin, the best fly-fishing guide on the South Fork. Jeremy’s surprised and tantalized, but Macy isn’t having any of his alpha male posturing. She gives as good as she gets, and she knows how to throw a mean right hook.

As the two of them get tangled up in each other’s lives, both Jeremy and Macy must come to terms with winning and losing and letting love in. And Jeremy has to find the answer to his own question: Is he simply “using” Macy or could he really “use” someone like her? Find out in Use Somebody, book 3 of the Fix You series.

About The Author

Beck Anderson is a two-time Rita© finalist and author of four novels including the Fix You series and The Jeweler. She’s also a wife, a mom, an educator, and a walker of a small, bossy dog-slash-evil genius.

Excerpt Reveal ~ Tempting Tempo, A Tempest Novel, by Michelle Mankin


“Melinda, come back,” Sager called, his deep voice urgent. “Wait,” he insisted, his hands falling on my shoulders before I had a chance to press the elevator call button. He turned me toward him, the warmth and tenderness in his touch and his unique leather and cardamom scent bending me to his will.

My lids fluttered half closed remembering how good it had been in his bed. Those strong hands gliding over every inch of my naked skin. His confident caresses coaxing me, sometimes demanding me to respond. Knees weakening, my body swayed in ready servitude towards the sexy rock god who had everything I needed but nothing I could ever hope to keep.

“Come back to bed.” He gently stroked a tendril of my sapphire hair behind my ear. He melted my resolve with his warm regard and his earnest expression. My arms stiffened at my sides, a battle waging within me. My fingertips longed to retrace the contours of his sculpted body, but my feet only wanted to run away.

"I can't,” I pleaded, my stomach cinched. “I need to go. I have a race in a couple of hours."

"I heard you." His tone was tender, but I could feel the tension rising in it. “I listened very closely to everything you said.”

“It's late.” Three a.m. in fact. We had been together most of the night. I motioned with my chin toward the door to his hotel room that he had left propped open. “Let's forget tonight ever happened. Like I told you it doesn’t mean anything.” --a lie lie lie --no guy had ever made me feel like he did, even before I slept with him.

“Bullshit,” he decided, unwaveringly certain. “You might say you only slept with me to make Dizzy jealous, but I don’t believe that’s it. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t feel the same connection I did. It wasn’t him in that bed with you tonight. It was just you and me. And that’s the way it has to be from now on. I won’t share you with anyone else. You get me?” He gathered my hands and brought them to his chest. I could feel his heart racing. His thumbs lightly circled the delicate skin on the inside of my wrists. My pulse leapt to his touch. “Don't be afraid, Melinda,” he whispered.

“I'm not scared.” Another lie. I was terrified of the intensity of the emotions surging through me, emotions he seemed to effortlessly command.

“I think that you are. You bolted for the door as soon as things got intense.” His dark eyes delved piercingly deep. “You’ve got to know that no matter how angry I get I could never hurt you.”

“I know,” I whispered back.

“So stay then.”

“I can’t, Sager. I just can’t.” He wanted something real, but when he found out how messed up I really was, he wouldn’t want me anymore.

**Tempting Tempo is a standalone in the Tempest series but does contain characters and story lines from previous novels.**

He sees her in a way she could never see herself.

She has never felt more beautiful than when she was in his arms.

Tempting Tempo by Michelle Mankin releases October 13th!

Pre-order Your Copy
Amazon US | UK
iBooks | Nook | Kobo


Sager Reed, the strong and silent bassist of the rock band Tempest, is well acquainted with loss. The thoughtful artist’s own tattoos only hint at his turbulent youth. He buries his guilt about it deeply within his troubled heart.

Melinda T. Belle, the daughter of a dysfunctional rock legend, as a rule avoids emotional entanglement. In fact, she has turned her back on nearly everyone and everything she has ever known. Now she is alone, trying desperately to find fulfillment in the one dream she has left, competitive skiing. 

Can Sager overcome his dark past and finally believe that he is worthy of her love? Will Melinda realize too late that he is the one that really matters?

About The Author

Michelle Mankin is the New York Times bestselling author of the Black Cat Records series of novels.
Rock Stars. Romance. Redemption.

Love Evolution, Love Revolution, and Love Resolution are a Brutal Strength centered trilogy, combining the plot underpinnings of Shakespeare with the drama, excitement, and indisputable sexiness of the rock 'n roll industry.

Things take a bit of an edgier, once upon a time turn with the Tempest series. These pierced, tatted, and troubled Seattle rockers are young and on the cusp of making it big, but with serious obstacles to overcome that may prevent them from ever getting there.

Rock stars, myths, and legends collide with paranormal romance in a totally mesmerizing way in the Magic series.

Catch the perfect wave with irresistible surfers in the Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances series.

Romance and self-discovery, the Finding Me series is a Tempest spin off with a more experienced but familiar cast of characters.

When Michelle is not prowling the streets of her Texas town listening to her rock or NOLA funk music much too loud, she is putting her daydreams down on paper or traveling the world with her family and friends, sometimes for real, and sometimes just for pretend.

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