Through His Heart by Deborah Camp – Spotlight and Giveaway

FS_TourBanner_ThroughHisHeart copy

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Deborah will award a $50 Amazon or BN GC to one randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on her tour.

MediaKit_BookCover_ThroughHisHeart“Sending you an SOS.”

When psychic Trudy Tucker hears this plaintive cry in her mind and then connects psychically with a little girl’s kidnapper, she is drawn to a small town in Missouri where everyone is suspect – including herself and her lover, celebrated psychic detective Levi Wolfe. As she and Levi work together to sort through whom and what to trust, an innocent life hangs in the balance.

Enjoy an excerpt:

A shudder raced through her and her stomach knotted. Nausea rose up to her throat as darkness descended in her mind.

“I’m sending you an SOS. Sending you an SOS. An SOS.” Can you find me? Can you hear me?

“I hear you,” Trudy whispered, answering the small, trembling voice.

“Did you say something, Rachel? Are you singing something?” This was a different voice in her head. A deep bass, but gentle. Coaxing, cajoling, cunning.

The darkness parted like a curtain in Trudy’s mind and Rachel came into view. She sat in a child’s white rocking chair, her red tennis shoes dangling inches from the floor. A wedge of purple discolored her right cheek. Her lips twitched and her chin quivered.

“Be a good girl and do what you’re told and that won’t happen to you again. No one wants to hurt you. You gotta obey, though. Can’t say ‘no’ to your elders. Your mama should have taught you that.”

“It hurts.”

“Want me to kiss it and make it well?”

Rachel rounded her shoulders, making herself smaller. “Nuh-uh.”

“Okay then. I could make it stop hurting though . . . I’ll read you a Bible story. How about that? Remember what we talked about? God is way up here . . . then there’s his disciples right here . . . and then your elders . . . and you’re way down below that.”

Glimpses of hands . . . moving up and down, illustrating the levels. Dirty nails, dry skinned knuckles.

“Where’s Mommy?”

“Are you hearing me? This is important.”

“I want to talk to Mommy.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you! God gave you to us. Your Mommy is busy serving the Lord and now you’re here serving us because it’s been ordained. Quit touching your face! That won’t help it heal. Come sit in my lap while I read. Did you hear me ask nice? You won’t like it if I have to ask twice. That’s my good girl. You act like this all the time and you won’t get any more boo-boos.”

Was he kissing her? Was he licking her?

About the Author:MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_ThroughHisHeartAuthor of more than 40 novels, Deborah lives in Oklahoma. She has been a full-time writer since she graduated from the University of Tulsa. She worked for a few years as a reporter for newspapers before becoming a freelance writer. Deborah’s first novel was published in the late 1970s and her books have been published by Jove, New American Library, Harlequin, Silhouette, and Avon. She has been inducted into the Oklahoma Authors Hall of Fame and she is a charter member of the Romance Writers of America. She is widely published in non-fiction and writes and edits for a magazine focused on small businesses. Deborah taught fiction writing for more than 10 years at a community college. She is currently working on a series of novels featuring two psychics who work with police nationwide to identify and track serial murderers.

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All of her novels are available on Amazon as ebooks

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Falling Under by Lauren Dane – Spotlight and Giveaway

8_5 Falling-Under-Release-Week-Blitz

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by the publisher. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win a copy of Falling Under.

8_5 Dane_FallingUnder_TPDuke Bradshaw, co-owner of the Twisted Steel custom motorcycle and hot rod shop, may devote his days to chrome and leather, but his nights belong to Carmella. His sultry redheaded neighbor has a smile like an angel and a body built for sin, and for the past year both have dominated Duke’s dreams. When a problem at Twisted Steel requires a fast fix, Duke sees his chance to finally make his fantasy a reality.

Ever since she first heard the low rumble of his engine, Carmella Rossi has wondered if Duke Bradshaw handles his women as expertly as he handles his bike. When he shows up at her door offering her a much-needed job at his shop, she gets her chance to find out. Beneath Duke’s masterful touch, Carmella soon submits to a world of unimaginable pleasure.

But history has taught Carmella how bad a boy boy can be. If she doesn’t put on the brakes fast, her hard-bodied heartbreaker could drive her right over the edge . . .

Enjoy an excerpt:

Carmella answered her door to find Duke standing on her porch with a six-pack and some chips.

He held them aloft. “I was thinking we could hang out and have a beer and some snacks.”

She smiled, even as she looked down at herself. “Uh. I’m sort of messy. I was cleaning the kitchen.”

He walked in without saying anything else, but once he got to her kitchen, he turned back. “You look fantastic.”

Ginger had already abandoned her nap at the sound of Duke’s voice and deposited herself at his feet.

“So easy,” she murmured to the dog as she joined them in the kitchen.

“Glasses or the bottle okay?” He indicated the beer with a tip of his chin.

“Bottle is fine. There’s an opener in that drawer there.” She pointed. “If you’re hungrier than just chips and dip, there’s leftover baked ziti. I was just thinking about some dinner.”

“Leftover ziti? How is that even possible? Was everyone sick? I promise if you made me baked ziti, I’d eat every last bit.” He cocked his head and looked extra hot.

She put a hand on her hip. He was so totally full of it. “Actually, I made a smaller one for myself and took two to a big family dinner. It’s my uncle’s favorite. But I brought home coconut cake and some other stuff.”

Carmella bent to look in her fridge because he was standing so very close and she was getting giddy. Giddy was bad. Giddy ended up being the last time she slept with her ex. Though to be fair, it had been fantastic.

This man was a giddy nuclear reactor and it made her girl parts want to be so stupid.

And then he bent to peer into the fridge at her side. “Jesus Christ. Carmella. Baby, this is the most organized refrigerator I’ve seen in my entire life. I’m in awe.”

She was so surprised and weirdly flattered, Carmella turned to look at him and ended up whacking her forehead to his so hard she saw stars against her closed eyes.

Firm hands took her by the upper arms and helped her stand though she wobbled a little. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Ouch,” Carmella managed. “Sorry. I got you pretty hard.”

Duke laughed as he moved the hand she’d had over her forehead and replaced it with a bag of frozen berries. “My go‑to is corn usually, but you don’t have any. That should help. I’m okay. I have a very hard head. That’s totally true so stop it with that look of yours.”

“You have a go‑to remedy for head bumping?” Carmella sat at one of the stools at the island. “And what look do you mean?”

“Works for busted knuckles, black eyes, the usual sort of lifestyle-related injuries.”

Carmella winced when she raised her brow at him. “Lifestyle-related?”

Duke shrugged. “What can I say? Ass kicking and fisticuffs seem to be a regular part of my life. And the look I meant is the one you’re wearing right now. The one you give that makes everyone feel like a wayward boy who craves your approval.”

“I have that look? Really?” How awesome! She clearly needed to use it more.

“You do. Why do you think we’re all so obedient to your paperwork rules?”

“Because it’s efficient and makes money move back into the shop more quickly?”

He laughed again and then moved the bag of fruit to kiss the sore spot.

They both went very still.

His muscles tightened, the tension radiating from him made her dizzy. And probably crazy, but needing to soothe. So she slid her hands up the wall of his chest, not to restrain or hold back, no matter how much she told herself that lie.

Once she touched him, she knew it to her toes that everything had changed.

“Damn it,” he snarled and then kissed her. Only, no. He took her mouth, owned it, and had his wicked way with it.

About the Author:8_5 Lauren DaneThe story goes like this: While on pregnancy bed rest, Lauren Dane had plenty of down time, so her husband took her comments about “giving that writing thing a serious go” to heart and brought home a secondhand laptop. She wrote her first book on it. Today, Lauren is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than 60 novels and novellas across several genres.

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Ten Things Most People Don’t Know About Lori Handeland – Guest Blog

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Lori Handeland, author of the Sisters of the Craft series. The third book of the series, Smoke on the Water, released today.

10 things most people don’t know about me

1. I’m an only child.
2. My father was a Pulitzer Prize nominated photojournalist.
3. I was once vice-president of a contracting company.
4. My favorite food is steak.
5. I would love to own a 50s era muscle car even though I can’t drive stick.
6. My favorite movie is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
7. I’ve also written western historical romance under the name Lori Austin.
8. The one place I want to travel most is Italy.
9. I once played with lion cubs at a circus.
10. If I see a mouse I will freak out more than is appropriate for seeing a mouse.

smoke on the waterReunited after four hundred years, three sisters join together to vanquish the power that tore them apart…and embrace the sorcery that is their birthright.

Abandoned as an infant, Willow Black spent her childhood in foster care, the object of whispers and pity…and rumors about being certifiably crazy. Telling your young friends that you can foresee the future—and summon the rain—is a surefire way to end up in the psychiatric ward. But when Dr. Sebastian Frasier arrives at the facility, Willow’s whole life takes a turn. Sebastian is the handsomest man she’s ever actually laid eyes on—even though he has been in Willow’s visions for years. But not even she could have predicted the storm of passion that has engulfed them both. With Sebastian by her side, Willow is emboldened to embrace her history, and the sisters she never knew. Soon, the true power in her blood awakes—and the battle she was born to fight begins. While the temptest rages, Willow must depend on the friends and family she’s found—and the man she has loved forever…

b>About the Author: loir handlandLori Handeland is a New York Times, USA Today, Waldenbooks and Bookscan Bestselling Author and the recipient of many industry awards, including two RITA Awards from Romance Writers of America for Best Paranormal (BLUE MOON) and Best Long Contemporary Romance (THE MOMMY QUEST), a Romantic Times Award for Best Harlequin Superromance (A SOLDIER’S QUEST), the Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence, the Write Touch Readers Award, the National Readers Choice Award and the Prism Award.

Lori is published world wide in several genres–historical, contemporary, series and paranormal romance, as well as urban fantasy and historical fantasy–by such publishers as: Dorchester, Kensington, Harlequin, St. Martin’s Press, Harper-Collins, Simon and Schuster and Penguin/Putnam.

She also publishes gritty, sexy western historical romance under the name Lori Austin.

Lori lives in Wisconsin with her husband, enjoying occasional visits from her grown sons. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached at

Buy the book at Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

Can’t Go Back by Marie Meyer – Spotlight

8_4 Can't-Go-Back-Launch-Day-Blitz

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by the publisher.

8_4 Meyer_Can't Go Back_E-BookWhen Jillian moved next door, she refused to get out of the car. I climbed into the backseat beside her and promised to never leave her.

Now, I’m driving her a thousand miles away, so she can leave me.

She has to go. What else would she do? Follow me and my band from one cheap bar to another, get hit on by sleazy promoters? Because Jillian would definitely get hit on. She’s the most gorgeous, talented girl I’ve ever known, and she doesn’t even see it.

This scholarship gives Jillian the chance to study at the best design school in the country. It’s what she’s always wanted. I won’t stand in the way of her dreams, no matter how much it hurts to watch her go. I just wish she wasn’t leaving without knowing the truth.

Enjoy an excerpt:

The headlights flashed across the Pennsylvania Welcomes You sign just as my playlist ended. Reaching for my phone, I scanned through others. I needed music to fill the growing hollowness inside me. Moving my best friend, Jillian, to design school was one of the hardest damn things I’d ever had to do.

With the cruise set at eighty, I watched the odometer tack on mile after mile. Jillian snored away in the passenger seat, her head against the window, legs stretched out, bare feet resting on the dashboard. Every now and then, I’d sneak a quick peek at her and smile, years of friendship played on a highlight reel in my head.

Twelve years ago, after Jillian’s parents died during the 9/11 attacks, she came to live with her grandparents—my neighbors. The day she arrived, she refused to get out of the car. I climbed into the backseat with her, offered her my hand, and promised to always make her smile. I’d never leave her. Now, I was driving her a thousand miles away, so she could leave me.

When she’d been offered a scholarship to an elite design school in Rhode Island, I was thrilled for her. Jillian always dreamed of being a designer. After everything she’d been through, losing her parents at such a young age, and struggling to overcome her self-harm tendencies as she got older, it was time something positive came her way. But, it wasn’t until now that I realized just how many miles stood between Rhode Island and Illinois…between Jillian and me.

“Uhhh,” I groaned, pressing my feet into the floorboard, stretching the best I could. I needed some tunes to liven up the drive. The lonely, dark road was fucking with my state of mind. With the pad of my thumb, I swiped through countless artists on my iPhone, finally deciding on the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I needed something heavy, loud, and bass-driven to pull me out of my current funk. Letting my head fall against the headrest, I fingered Flea’s bass riffs along the steering wheel.

Jillian sighed and moved her head from the window, placing it back onto the seat. Wisps of blonde and orange hair covered her face and her neck slumped at an odd angle. No way was she comfortable. Hell, I wasn’t comfortable. It was almost eleven. I was tired, hungry, and I really needed a restroom.

Holding the wheel steady with my left hand, I used my right to rock her gently. “Jillian. Jillian, wake up.”

She blinked a few times and sat up, still half asleep. Her hair was a tangled mess on top her head, like a pile of vanilla ice cream swirled with orange sherbet. I ran my palm over her head, smoothing some of the pieces back where they belonged.

Jillian looked out her window, then back to me. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. What time is it?” She lowered her pale legs from the dash and raised her arms high, stretching.

She wore a faded t-shirt featuring my band, Mine Shaft, and like any red-blooded male, it didn’t escape my attention when the t-shirt rode up, exposing the small patch of skin above the waist of her yoga pants. She wasn’t the scrawny little girl who used to play in the dirt with me.

I removed my hand from her head with a sigh and adjusted the volume knob, reducing Anthony Kiedis to background noise. “It’s just after eleven.”

“Ugh, I hope there’s a good yoga class on campus.” She yawned, arching her back. “Where are we?”

I took the next exit, getting off the turnpike, following the blue signs to the nearest hotel. “We’re in Pennsylvania. Do you want to keep driving or call it a night?” The choice was up to her; if she wanted me to keep going, I would. But, I hoped she didn’t. I was beat.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have taken over the wheel a hundred miles ago.”

“It’s alright.” I flashed her a smile. “You looked too peaceful to wake up.” More than peaceful, she looked gorgeous. Many times throughout the night, I’d fought the urge to run my fingers through her hair, or touch her porcelain cheeks.

But then I reminded myself, friends didn’t get to touch.

Three months ago, I’d had my chance. Back in May, the easygoing friendship Jillian and I had as children was obliterated the second she kissed me. In that moment, I wanted to do a whole hell of a lot more than kiss her.

A light wind whistled through the doorway, causing Jillian’s long hair to float on the breeze. Without a second thought, her hand came up and she swiftly tucked the flying strands behind her ears. I would have liked to do that for her…but it was too late. I kept my hands in my lap.

Stretching out my legs, I leaned my back against the wall of the little old cabin. Jillian did the same, resting her head against the dusty log walls. This cabin had been our place in high school. Off the beaten path, in a forested section of the state college campus, the miniature cabin became the home to many late night talks, song writing sessions, and countless other memories. Where most childhood friends have treehouses, Jillian and I had a tiny cabin in the woods.

After having dinner with my parents and sister, Jillian insisted on coming out here. Since she was leaving for college in three months, it seemed fitting that we needed to say good-bye to “our cabin”.

She’d been quiet since we’d gotten here. “What’s on your mind, Jillibean?” I nudged her with my shoulder.

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Nothing. Just enjoying the night. It’s always so peaceful out here.”

“Yeah, it is.” I closed my eyes and listened to the crickets chirp. In the distance an owl hooted.


“Yeah?” I answered, but kept my eyes closed. I liked the way her voice mingled with the sound of the wind.


With a tap on my shoulder, I rolled my head in her direction, and opened my eyes. Our faces were less than an inch apart. My pulse went from zero to erratic in the matter of second and the cabin grew stuffy. Jillian’s midnight eyes searched my face.

My eyes fell to her mouth. Like so many times before, I wanted to kiss her. What would her lips feel like on mine? What did she taste like?

I moved my head closer…the tips of our noses touched and Jillian sucked in a tiny breath.

What noises could I elicit from her? How loud could I make her scream my name?

And while my mind conjured a dozen and a half erotic scenarios, Jillian closed her mouth on mine.

I shivered at the memory and readjusted in the seat, trying to accommodate the bulge in my pants.

It had taken every ounce of energy I possessed not to push my hands through her long, rainbow-dyed hair, press her against the cabin wall, and show her exactly why she couldn’t leave me at the end of the summer.

Her lips were hot and full, and I wanted to devour her. My hands itched to explore the curves of her tiny frame. With just one kiss, she’d released a flood of emotions I’d never felt for another woman.

And it scared the shit out of me.

Jillian was my friend…my best friend. If we ventured down that path, I feared she’d give up on her dream to stay with me. I didn’t want her to blow off design school and stay in Illinois and end up at the junior college. She was too talented for community college. I wanted more for her. I’d spent so many years trying to protect her from every pain and sadness life threw her way, I worried she’d grown too reliant on me. She needed this opportunity to spread her wings and find herself.

With one infinitesimal nudge—all I could muster—I pushed her way. When our lips parted, I could still taste her, and like a starving man, I wanted more. Energy crackled between us. Jillian stared at me, desire and confusion pooling in her dark chocolate eyes. Her expression begged me for an explanation. Then I told her the biggest lie of all: I only wanted to be friends.

And now she was leaving…without knowing the truth.

About the Author: Marie Meyer was a Language Arts teacher for fourteen years. She spends her days in the classroom and her nights writing heartfelt new adult romances that will leave readers clamoring for more. She is a member of RWA and the St. Louis Writers Guild. Marie’s short fiction won honorable mentions from the St. Louis Writers Guild in 2010 and 2011. She is a proud mommy and enjoys helping her oldest daughter train for the Special Olympics, making up silly stories with her youngest daughter, and bingeing on weeks of DVR’d television shows with her husband.

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Tremaine’s True Love by Grace Burrowes – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

8_4 grace TremainesTrueLoveGraphic

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Enter the Raffleocpter at the end of the post to win a bundle of Grace Burrowe’s books.

8_4 grace Treamine's True LoveHe’s had everything he could ever want…until now

Wealthy wool magnate Tremaine St. Michael is half French, half Scottish, and all business. He prowls the world in search of more profits, rarely settling in one place for long. When he meets practical, reserved Lady Nita Haddonfield, he sees an opportunity to mix business with pleasure by making the lady his own.

Nita Haddonfield has a meaningful life tending to others, though nobody is dedicated to caring for Nita. She insists the limitations of marriage aren’t for her, then Tremaine St. Michael arrives-protective, passionate, and very, very determined to win Nita’s heart.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt:

Tremaine St. Michael is enjoying a late night raid on the larder with Lady Nita when he gets news that his prize herd of young rams has taken ill. He’s all ready to charge off into the winter night, when Nita takes matters in hand.

“Mr. St. Michael, please sit,” Nita said.

“I don’t want to blasted sit. When I’ve taken every precaution, fed them extra rations, added hot water to their icy buckets at considerable effort—”

She put a ginger biscuit in his hand. “Are these extra rations from the same hay you normally feed?”

“I had the steward buy some particularly good hay,” Mr. St. Michael informed his biscuit. “We’ve saved it back to feed on the coldest nights. That hay is beautiful, soft, green. It’s quite dear, but worth the expense.”

“We can send a pigeon for you in the morning,” Nita said. “Tell your men to switch back to your usual hay.”

Mr. St. Michael half-rose, then sat back down, heavily, if strong drink had caught up with him.

“Pretty hay isn’t always the best quality,” he murmured. “Noxious weeds can spring up in any field.” Mr. St. Michael broke the biscuit in half and offered Nita the larger portion.

“Unless you’ve moved your herd, or recently added to it,” she said, “a sudden illness affecting many of the flock isn’t likely. If it’s not contagion, then a problem with their fodder is the next most likely culprit.”

Mr. St. Michael dispatched his sweet in silence, as Nita took a place beside him before the fire.

“May we send the pigeon tonight, Lady Nita?” Worry and the Aberdeershire hills still laced Mr. St. Michael’s voice.

“Certainly. A good bird will be in Oxfordshire before your lads are at their morning chores. Alfrydd manages the dovecote.”

The apple went next, in a few crunchy bites, while Mr. St. Michael remained quiet, and Nita’s feet grew chilly.

“You truly think it’s the hay?” Mr. St. Michael asked, rising. He took his mug to the sink, tossed the apple core into the slop bucket, and wiped his hands on the towel kept for that purpose near the bread box.

“I’m nearly sure of it,” Nita said, though no medical situation was ever certain. “You’ll also want to scrub out the water buckets. If all you’re doing is adding hot water to icy buckets, then the buckets haven’t been truly cleaned for some time.”

“Excellent advice,” he said, draping the towel over its hook exactly as he’d found it. “I might have come to the same conclusions by the time I reached London—provided I hadn’t landed on my arse in the ditch at the foot of your lane.”

Mr. St. Michael offered Nita his hand, and Nita let him draw her to her feet. They were in the kitchen, she was wearing two thicknesses of wool stockings, and front parlor manners were the farthest thing from her—

Tremaine St. Michael hugged her. The sensation was rather like being enveloped in a blanket left to warm on a brass fender, all comfort and ease, a hint of heather and lavender, and an irresistible temptation to relax.

“I worry over those young fellows,” he murmured. “I am in your debt, my lady.” He stroked her hair, another invitation to relax, to be safe and warm. “One doesn’t admit to praying for sheep.”

One just had, perhaps even two.

Nita stepped back and Mr. St. Michael let her go.

“Take the biscuits to the stable lads,” she said. “Your horse will benefit. You’ll probably have word back from Oxfordshire by sunset tomorrow.”

Mr. St. Michael picked up the entire crock of biscuits, kissed Nita’s cheek, then lingered for a moment, near enough that she caught ginger and cinnamon on his breath.

Near enough that she had one instant to consider turning her head.

About the Author:8_4 GraceBurrowesNew York Times and USA Today bestselling author Grace Burrowes’ bestsellers include The Heir, The Soldier, Lady Maggie’s Secret Scandal, Lady Sophie’s Christmas Wish and Lady Eve’s Indiscretion. Her Regency romances have received extensive praise, including starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Booklist. Grace is branching out into short stories and Scotland-set Victorian romance with Sourcebooks. She is a practicing family law attorney and lives in rural Maryland.

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Forever With Him by Sofia Tate – Spotlight

8_4 Forever-With-Him-Launch-Day-Blitz
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by the publisher.

8_4 Tate_Forever With Him_E-BookAllegra Orsini’s dreams are all coming true. She’s making her debut at the Metropolitan Opera-and marrying Davison Cabot Berkeley, the brilliant billionaire and masterful lover who’s unlocked her most secret desires. From the glittering lights of the opera hall to the sultry shadows of a honeymoon suite, Allegra has all she’s ever wanted . . . until one moment changes everything.

As despair darkens their once perfect world, Allegra pulls away from everything and everyone she’s ever loved, including Davison. But Davison refuses to give up on her-or the pure, raw passion that still burns between them. Allegra may have lost herself, but Davison knows right where she belongs, and he’s determined to prove it to her.

Enjoy an excerpt:


Watching my fiancé, Davison Cabot Berkeley, standing in front of the mirror in his walk-in closet adjusting his bow tie while wearing a custom-tailored black tuxedo is an exercise in torture.

Exquisite torture.

He stands ramrod straight, his emerald eyes, full of determination and focus, practically etching a mark in the glass. His chiseled jaw is locked. He wants to look perfect, and all I want to do is rip off the tie, pull apart his pristine white tuxedo shirt, sending its buttons scattering across the closet floor like pebbles, slam my lips over his, and plunge my tongue into his mouth. Then, once his broad, muscled chest presents itself to me, I’ll run my tongue and hands over it down to the bulge enveloped in the soft, silky fabric of his trousers, unzip them, and sink to the carpet until my knees hit as I take his hot, velvety cock into my mouth and…

“If you don’t stop ogling me like that, Venus, I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here in this closet.”

His declaration snaps me back to the present, which works so effortlessly when he says it addressing me with his preferred nickname for me, and with that low rumble in his voice that makes me wet at the sound of it.

“I didn’t realize you saw me standing here.”

He pivots to me to stare at me full-on. “Baby, I don’t have to see you to know you’re near me. I just know.”

I smile. “Goes both ways, Harvard.”

His eyes warm at the sound of the term of endearment I use only for him. “Come here,” his voice beckons, my pussy aching at the sound of his insistence.

I step over to him. He positions me in front of the mirror with him behind me, his warm breath in my ear.

Finally, after a pause, I hear him take in a breath. He runs his hands over my dress, a deep red strapless gown that matches the ruby ring I always wear on my right hand, the one Davison gave me in Venice when we rode under the Bridge of Sighs in the gondola.

“God, you’re so beautiful. How did I get so fucking lucky?” he murmurs in my ear, gripping my body tightly to his.

“What can I say? You’re a very good boy.”

The warmth of his lips descends on my neck as his mouth begins to suck softly on my flesh. “Ha! Hardly!” he mumbles under his breath.

My head lolls back onto his shoulder, savoring the feel of his touch. “Hmm, you might have a point there.”

I can feel his heartbeat increasing against my back. My core clenches as I grow more aroused with each pull of his lips on my neck. His hands roam over my chest, holding my breasts in his hands. His body vibrates behind me in a low moan as his thumbs stroke my nipples, which instantly harden under my dress.

The sound of a phone pinging in the bedroom forces Davison to pull away, both of us groaning in annoyance.

I sigh. “I think it’s mine.”

Davison follows me back into the bedroom and watches over my shoulder as I pick up my phone, grunting his annoyance. “Christ, can’t he leave you alone for five minutes?”

I exhale in exasperation as I watch him pick up his wallet and phone from the nightstand. “We have to leave in five minutes,” he announces.

About the Author: Sofia Tate grew up in Maplewood, NJ, the oldest of three children in a bilingual family. She was raised on 70s disaster films and 80s British New Wave music and classic tv miniseries. Her love for reading started when she received a set of Judy Blume books from her aunt when she was ten. She discovered erotic romance thanks to Charlotte Featherstone. She loves both writing and reading erotic romance. She graduated from Marymount College in Tarrytown, NY, with a degree in International Studies and a minor in Italian. She also holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Adelphi University. She has lived in London and Prague. Sofia currently resides in New York City.

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Queen of Clubs: Season One by Katie de Long – Spotlight and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Katie de Long is awarding a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter a signed copy of a Queen of Clubs novella plus a handcreated pendant (US only). Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

MediaKit_BookCover_QueenOfClubsThe exotic dancers and employees of the Queen of Clubs walk a fine line, with only wits, beauty, and market savvy to keep them from toppling into the shark pit. Ride shotgun through lapdances, romance, and sexual awakenings. Don’t worry, these girls won’t ask what your hands are doing under the tip rail.

This collection contains all seven novellas in the first season of Queen of Clubs. They contain adult language and mature content, and can be read standalone or in order.

Enjoy an excerpt from Queen of Clubs: Marina:

I work to keep my mouth shut as Alina leaves. Even for her, this is kinda jerky, not just flakey.

Evan sighs.

“Everything okay?” I have to feel bad for him—he doesn’t seem particularly talkative, so he’s probably more upset than he wants to let on.

“It’s fine,” he shrugs as he speaks. “Something’s just been a bit off, lately.”

“I’m sorry.” I genuinely am. I want to smooth out the crease in his brow.

“Maybe it’s just a shelf life thing. I travel enough that relationships tend to go bad really fast with me, and a few years back, I just sort of gave up. It was easier to make friends with someone while I was around, and treat them as though I was giving them all of my attention at one time, to make up for being gone, instead of trying to keep a relationship going long distance. But those always have shelf lives, too. Things can only stay static for so long before they change, or pull apart.” He stares past my shoulder, and rakes strong fingers through his hair.

I know I shouldn’t, but I have to ask before I get any deeper into this.

“Are you in love with her?” He meets my eyes, and for a moment can’t speak. I shrug and change the topic.

“It’s probably nothing. Maybe she just, I don’t know, wants more of her friends to know her other friends, or wasn’t up to tonight but didn’t want to leave you in the lurch saying no,” I offer.

About the Author: MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_QueenOfClubsKatie de Long lives in the Pacific northwest, realizing her dream of being a crazy cat-lady. As a kid, Katie flagged the fade-to-blacks in every adult book she encountered, and when she began writing, she vowed to use cutaways sparingly. After all, that’s when the good stuff happens. And on a kindle, no one asks why there’s so many bookmarks in her library.

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There are No Vampires in this Book by Megan Bailey – Spotlight and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

MediaKit_BookCover_ThereAreNoVampiresInThisBookTARYN HAD NEVER BEEN NORMAL.

She wasn’t like other girls- not after that night, that thing, took her parents from her. She made it through hospitals, doctors, and therapy by playing by their rules and saying all the things they wanted to hear. But, inside, she held on to the truth.
She knew what she saw.


With her two closest friends at her side, she dedicated herself to a mission. She would train and she would hunt. When the time came, she would be ready. No one she loved would be hurt by one of those monsters ever again

But with high school behind them, new found freedom comes with new responsibilities and new problems. Instead of weapons and self defense classes, she now has jobs and bills. The relation-ship with her best friend was suddenly shifting into new, scary territories. How could she take down bad guys if she couldn’t get her own life in order?


A mysterious stranger who pops up in suspicious places and throws off all sorts of bad vibes. His face now starred in her regular nightmares and plagued her thoughts in the day. Was she overreacting? Or, was this finally the monster she had been waiting for? As the scars of Taryn’s past rise up to haunt her, she begins to question herself. With her mission faltering and her friendship off kilter, would life ever be the same again? Would she ever be the same?

Enjoy an excerpt:

She hit him with a cushion. “Shut up and play the game.”

“Truth or dare?” Aiden asked, his tone resigned.

“Dare. I’m not letting you mock my truths.” She leaned forward and started to mix another drink. One she definitely didn’t need but was having anyway. She wasn’t thinking about this lonely dramatic stuff anymore tonight. Even if she had to drown it.

“I dare you to kiss the first guy you lay eyes on.” Aiden bolted forward with his announcement, but she was faster.

Taryn squeezed her eyes shut instantly. “Nice try, goofball.”

“Oh, that’s not fair,” he grumbled.

“Should have worded it better,” she mocked him in a singsong voice. Eyes still closed, she raised her glass, a little wobblier than before. “Let’s make a toast. To being losers together on a Friday night.”

Instead of a tap of his can to her drink, she felt his fingers slide across the sides of her face and tangle into her hair. Her eyes popped open and locked on his, just inches away.

“Gotcha,” he said in a low voice.

Before Taryn could gasp, his mouth covered hers. It was no gentle, hesitant brush of the lips like she would have expected. No, Aiden met her with a firm, warm pressure that melted her insides like chocolate. His fingers in her hair tightened, sending electricity zinging through her. The drink in her hand was forgotten and slipped to the floor. Neither of them seemed to notice. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, asking, and the room tilted. She opened for him. His teeth caught her lower lip and tugged, lightly. She could have sworn she felt the tingle right down to her toes.

He pulled back, dragging his lips against hers in a slow caress. They sat there in the silence, eyes wide. Her head swam and her heart raced. Her scalp tingled where his fingers still pressed into her hair. Those eyes of his had turned to that shade of rich, dark blue. They trailed back down to her lips, which felt a little swollen.

From kissing him. Aiden. Heat blossomed through her belly. That just happened. But, for once, she wasn’t running a million thoughts through her head, worrying each one to death. She wasn’t thinking at all. Her panicky, loud brain was turned off, leaving something dark and hungry at the reins. Taryn wasn’t going to question it. Not tonight. She grabbed Aiden’s shirt and pulled him back down to return the kiss.

Somewhere in her head, it registered.

She was kissing her best friend.

And it was amazing.

About the Author: MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_ThereAreNoVampiresInThisBookMegan Bailey is a novelist and short story author. When not writing, she loves playing video games for way too many hours and reading everything she can get her hands on. Megan is married to her own wise-cracking, romantic hero. They live in Central Illinois with their two devious/darling daughters and three furbabies: Minna the boxer dog, Logan the black cat, and Gimli the dwarf bunny. You can keep up with Megan at

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Seduced by the Moon by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom – Spotlight and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom will award a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

MediaKit_BookCover_SeducedByTheMoonCan blood ties be stronger than the passions that rule the heart?

Skylar Donovan has come to her late father’s Colorado cabin to find answers to explain his death. Instead she meets a handsome forest ranger with a dark side. A stranger who is willing to protect her from an unknown assailant. A stranger who also appears in her dreams as something other than a man. He’s werewolf, and he satisfies Skylar Donovan like no mere man ever has.

Gavin Harris was bitten by a monster in the hills he has sworn to protect and now searches for that beast. But his deadly mission unites him with a beautiful blonde bent on a search of her own. Neither is safe from the evil they’re stalking—but the forbidden lust that burns between them might be the greatest danger of all.

About the Author: MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_SeducedByTheMoonLinda is the author of contemporary, paranormal romance, and urban fantasy books for Kensington, Amazon Montlake, GothicScapes, Harlequin Nocturne, and Harlequin Desire. She loves more than anything to write, and has a resident Muse who loudly sings all these stories to her.

Linda swears that all of her books come loaded with good karma for the readers, for helping to support her writing dreams.

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How I Handled the Research for the Book by Jeanette Watts – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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MediaKit_CommenterPrizeThis post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jeanette will be awarding a Victorian cameo to a randomly drawn winner (International) via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How I handled the research for the book
by Jeanette Watts, author of Wealth and Privilege

Research is fun and yummy, and that’s half the fun of being a historic fiction writer!

When I was in graduate school, I had to take a course on library research. One of the first things the professor said was, “When you have a big research project, the first thing you do is make friends with the librarian.” Some of the most important writing advice I’ve ever gotten.

I started writing Wealth and Privilege 16 years ago. The internet then wasn’t like it is now! Back then, I couldn’t just Google the census records for Johnstown in 1880. I had to go to the Johnstown library and spend a few days making friends with the librarian… and the newspapers, and the maps, etc. The reason the Washburn A mill explosion of 1878 shows up in my book is because I spent some quality time at the Minnesota History Center in St. Paul. I went to high school in Minnesota, I wanted to put in some sort of connection to a part of my past. Since for forces of plot, I needed an industrial accident of some sort, it was perfect. And, of course, it’s one more juicy bit of history to add, which makes the story all the more believable.

The most significant libraries where I spent vast amounts of time are the Pennsylvania Room at the Carnegie Library and the Heinz History Center archives in Pittsburgh. Both places were treasure troves of maps, biographies, newspapers, city directories, census records, etc. And the archivists and librarians were gold mines. My favorite story happened at the Heinz Archives. I had a scene with a lot of blanks to fill in. I walked up to the archivist, and I said, “If I’m rich, and I live on Penn Avenue, and it’s 1880, and I get sick, who is my doctor?” He looked up at me, thought for just a moment, then said, “Dr. McClelland. I’ll get you his file.” That file box held all sorts of treasures. I have held in my hand the anonymous letter that went with the donation that started Shadyside Hospital. (It doesn’t show up in my book, but it was still cool!) I was able to make sketches of the hospital where my characters went. I even have the address.

Almost a year later, I was back at the Heinz while they had an exhibit of clothing from the 1800s. I’m a costumer, I’ve been to the Costume Museum in Bath, and the First Ladies exhibit at the Smithsonian, and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. I never miss the chance to see more samples of the real thing! (That is why I can also describe the clothing throughout the book with a great degree of comfort. I’ve seen the real thing, and I’ve made many imitations.) And then, there among the ladies’ dresses, was a man’s frock coat. The tag read, “Dr. David McClelland.” I was so excited, I felt like I’d found an artifact that belonged to my own relative. It wasn’t just a name on a tag. I knew this man through that archival box.

I’m working on the sequel now, and the research is entirely different! If you want to see the First Ladies’ gowns from the Smithsonian, there’s a whole webpage about them. Census records are online. Photo collections from archives are online. In a way, it’s unfortunate. I needed to spend time researching information on Colorado and several parts of Europe. Once upon a time, it would have required a trip out to visit a librarian. Now I can get most of the answers while I stay at home.

MediaKit_BookCover_WealthAndPrivilegeMoney. Family. Love. Hate. Obsession. Duty. Politics. Religion – or the lack thereof. Sex — or, once again, the lack thereof.

Thomas Baldwin finds himself married to a woman he can’t stand, while head-over heels in love with another woman he can’t have. Talk about bad planning. He feels like a kite, buffeted by circumstances which blow him not only through personal crises, but also through some of the most significant events in Pittsburgh during the late 1800s, including the railroad riots of 1877, the creation of the Homestead Steel Works, the assassination of President Garfield, and the Johnstown Flood. Over time, and with the help of his muse, who dances maddeningly just beyond his reach, he takes control of his life, wresting it from the winds attempting to control him.

A carefully-researched historical novel about life among the privileged class of Pittsburgh during the Industrial Revolution.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Irritating his mother wasn’t specifically Thomas’ favorite hobby. She did, however, seem to excel at providing him with opportunities to do so. He didn’t have to try very hard. His very existence was an obvious irritant to her. It wasn’t because of who he was – Thomas knew perfectly well it was all about what he wasn’t.

He wasn’t everything his older brother Benjamin had been; quick and clever and charming and talkative. The entire Baldwin family – especially his mother, Eugenia Baldwin, aspiring family matriarch and his most verbal critic – admitted that Thomas was the much more handsome of the two. Then everyone shrugged. Pretty is as pretty does.

Thomas had to agree on that point. He gladly would have traded his bright blue eyes and much-admired dark hair for the ability to know what to say to people.

He stood at the entrance to the ballroom in his parents’ house, surrounded by giggling girls all wishing him a happy birthday with their dance cards not-so-subtly dangling from their wrists. Trying to smile, he offered his hand to accept the little pencils and sign the blasted things.

About the Author:MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_WealthAndPrivilegeJeanette Watts has written television commercials, marketing newspapers, stage melodramas, four screenplays, three novels, and a textbook on waltzing.

When she isn’t writing, she teaches social ballroom dances, refinishes various parts of her house, and sews historical costumes and dance costumes for her Cancan troupe.

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