Release Blitz, Uncategorized

The Hero and the Hacktivist by Pippa Grant

Title: The Hero and the Hacktivist
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Sexy Romantic Comedy
 Release Date: November 9, 2018

Best Friend’s Brother / Robin Hood in Cyberspace Romantic Comedy
anyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of an unsolicited dick pic…
He has the
muscles of Adonis, an ego bigger than the sun, and a very clear desire to get
back in my pants. Which would be fantastic if he weren’t a SEAL and I
wasn’t a criminal.
Although, I
prefer the term avenger.
I’m a
hacktivist, cleaning up the cesspool of cyberspace one scam artist and troll at
a time, and I sometimes bend a few rules to get justice done.
He’s a
military man with abs of glory, sworn to uphold the letter of the law no matter
its shortcomings. And if he’d known who—or what—I was, I doubt he would’ve
banged me at my best friend’s wedding reception.
Or come
back for more.
Which is
why he’s now the only thing standing between me and one very pissed off
internet troll who’s figured out where I live.
I’m pretty
sure he’ll get me out of this alive—and quite satisfied, thank you very
much—but I’m also pretty sure this mission will end with me in handcuffs.
And not the
good kind of handcuffs.
The Hero
and the Hacktivist is a romping fun romance between a SEAL and a twisted hacker
by day, drummer by night, complete with epic klutziness, terrible leg warmers,
and an even worse phone virus gone wrong. This romantic comedy stands alone
with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a fabulously fun happily ever


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Author Bio
Pippa Grant is a stay-at-home mom and housewife who loves to
escape into sexy, funny stories way more than she likes perpetually cleaning
toothpaste out of sinks and off toilet handles. When she’s not reading,
writing, sleeping, or trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be
productive members of society, she’s fantasizing about chocolate chip cookies.

Books by Pippa Grant

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Preach. by Stylo Fantôme

Title: Preach.
Series: Church Duet #2
Author: Stylo Fantôme
Genre: Dark Romance

Release Date: November 9, 2018

A shattered woman.
A changed man.
Church Logan wanted
to kill someone, and Emma Hartley wanted to die – they were a match made in
But one little cut,
a pint or two of blood, and suddenly everything between them is different.
Are they still
destined for greatness? Or has the darkness finally eclipsed them and torn them
Looks like it’s time
for Church to practice what he preaches.
Ignition, meet
Warning: if you have
triggers – this story will touch on a lot of them. This book is a dark romance,
65,000+ words.

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Also Available
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Author Bio
Crazy woman
from a remote location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a
necessity!), I have been writing since … forever? Yeah, that sounds about
right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball – I also see
shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I’m
clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs
more than I like most people, and I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t drink. No, I
do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the
year, there’s your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair – both a
curse and a blessing – and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can’t
understand me.
Yeah. I
think that about sums me up.
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Release Blitz, Uncategorized

Have a Heart by Jodi Watters

Title: Have a Heart
Series: Love Happens #4
Author: Jodi Watters
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 9, 2018
If he had one, she’d be the woman he’d give it to.
A runaway
bride, searching for happily ever after.
A Navy
SEAL, who doesn’t believe in such things.
A bar, in
the middle of nowhere, and fate, who’s been awaiting this day. 
When I left
my groom at the altar, I didn’t care where I went, or who I met along the
When I
walked into a roadside bar in Nowhere, California, I wasn’t planning on
When I sat
down beside Jason Reynolds, I had no idea who he really was. 
My world
turned upside down.
Now all I
want to do is save him.
I tried to
ignore her. The beautiful train wreck who’d crashed my pity party.   
I tried to
fight temptation. Her sweet smile and smart mouth threatened my misery.
I tried to
walk away. My blackened soul didn’t deserve her bright, hopeful light.
My team
calls me Tin Man for good reason.
Love has no
place in my life.

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         I’m a wisher. Always have been.
As a young
girl, I’d stand before my closed bedroom door, wishing a Barbie Dream House
would appear on the other side.
“No way,”
my dad would sneer, a cigarette between his lips. “Not unless I hit the ponies
tonight.” Despite his habit of gambling our grocery money, neither ever
As a
gangly teenager, I’d stand in front of a mirror, wishing for bigger boobs and a
fuller bush because I’d just seen Candace Michaels naked in the locker room
after third period P.E. class. You could say I was stunted in comparison. My
only solace was knowing those envious breasts would sag one day.
As a
community college graduate, I stood before the liquidated store I’d just
purchased thanks to a small business loan, providing employment to the two most
important people in my life, wishing to God I’d always be able to pay their
salaries. Theirs before mine, it turned out, on occasion. No matter. There was
currency in independence.
I also
wished I could twirl a baton, participate in a flash mob, and eat cake every
day without gaining weight. But, as my dad always said, I could wish in one
hand and shit in the other and see which one filled up first.
His best
and only advice.  
Through it
all, I’ve stared at nineteen different sheets of paper, always questioning what
I’d written, wishing many times over I was a poet. That I carried within me a
grace to evoke tender emotion, along with the guts to expel the toxic ones,
using nothing but a pen and the alphabet. Oftentimes I missed the mark, yet I
sent the messages anyway.
Yes, I’m
an old-school letter writer. A throwback to another generation. It’s not by
choice, believe me. This obsession started years ago, and I only write to one
I’ve avoided it. There’s been nothing to say.
But now,
in the middle of the night, I suddenly have plenty to say. To write.
The man
lying in bed next to me gives me pause. I know he’s asleep before I turn to
look, his breathing slow, but his body tense. Ready for the unexpected. A
learned habit that might never leave him. There’s something precious in seeing
him sleep, the weight of a nation briefly lifted. In repose, he becomes more
man than machine, despite himself.
More real.
More reachable.
not to jostle the blankets, I slide the remote from his slack hand and turn up
the volume on an informercial to cover the sound of my movements. No easy feat,
given he has catlike reflexes and can hear footsteps two doors down. Smiling,
my heart expands. Those are only a few of the many skills that make him
straight-up cool, in and out of a uniform.
So far, so
good, the light from the TV guiding me as I crawl out of bed and grab paper and
pen from the dresser. Not bothering to cover myself, I stand in the same spot
and write what’s in my heart, the words clambering to come out. It’s all I can
do to make my cursive scroll legible. Most of my letters are like this. Born of
furious inner thoughts.  
       Dear… I begin, then pause on the next looping letter.
I always
write friend.
The safety
of our anonymity now gone, I write his name instead, personally addressing him
for the first time. He feels like two different men to me, both of whom I love,
but neither of which I deserve.
       It’s odd
to use your name. I might never get used to that. I might never write you
another letter either. It feels wrong now, as I look at the face of a man who’s
been my sounding board, my guiding light, my surprise of a lifetime. Soft with
sleep, his burdens at rest, it’s a face that proves every sappy love song
right. Love—and let’s be honest, a daily dose of sex—really is all you need.
And pizza.
       Love, sex,
and pizza. The ultimate threesome. But I digress.
has one, you know. A love story. Even the non-believers, one of which is the
man embedded within my soul. Some of the stories are good, some bad. Some of
them, for the very lucky, are even great. Those are the ones that last, defying
a low survival rate.  
always wished mine—I mean, ours—to be a lovely tale that played out like a
metaphoric fable, where hummingbirds sipped nectar from orange blossoms on
dew-dampened spring mornings, our love growing from the softest flutter of
paper-thin wings, to a steady beat so sure and strong, you could tell the time
and temperature by it. What appeared outwardly fleeting could easily withstand
the rigors of Mother Nature. Bring on the hurricane. We’ll wait for the
       Go ahead.
Laugh your fine, cynical ass off. I was thirteen when I dreamt that gem up, and
while you might be hero material to me and many others, you’re no fairy tale
prince. God knows, I’m no princess, so I’m laughing right along with you. We’re
the sorriest pair of hummingbirds ever.
       But the
thing is… I don’t care how it really happened.
that it did.
I continue
to bleed words of love, and then regret, onto the page, desperate to say
everything I need to. Confess my sins the only way I know how.
rustling of sheets interrupts me, and I quickly slide the paper into the
drawer, reaching for his discarded t-shirt at the same time.
it on, I cover my nakedness and grin at the scowl that crosses his gorgeous
face. Rolling to his side, his unguarded eyes beckon
Patting the bed, his voice is rough with sleep.
hesitation, I let him envelop me in his strong, capable arms.
my hair, he asks the question I’m prepared for. “What were you doing? It’s zero
dark thirty.”
Burying my face in his neck, I kiss him and fight tears, feeling far more
secure than I should. The taste of his skin is achingly familiar, and I let my
lips linger. The privilege, I know, is temporary. “Just shaking off a dream.”
“Mmm,” he
rumbles, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “A good one or bad?”
The answer
is complicated.
“Both,” I
finally admit, the tears falling unbidden. I hide them, and the darkness allows
me my privacy. “Tighter,” I whisper, and he just seems to know, the band of his
arms flexing.
breathing is shallow, but my love is deep, and I selfishly ask for more.
“Tighter. Please.”   
hummingbirds and orange blossoms.  
      This is the love story—the sad, but true story—I’m meant to be in.

Also Available

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Author Bio
My love for
steamy romance began when I was in junior high. A friend and I noticed a
dumpster of discarded paperbacks behind our local dime store. Covers missing
and each book split down the spine, I scanned the pages for any love or lust
words—and curse words, too. From that point on, I scoured the public library
and the paperback racks at every store, reading anything labeled romance. I said
a tearfully grateful goodbye to Judy Bloom, and Jackie Collins began ruling my
I live with
my high school sweetheart husband in the desert Southwest. Awesome in the
winter, not so much in the summer.
My life
long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually
weigh what my driver’s license states I do. 
Author Links
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T-Bone by Vanessa Vale

These Grade-A Beefcakes are sizzling hot!
T-Bone by Vanessa Vale is coming soon on NOVEMBER 15th!

Tucker Duke is a cattle rancher, but they don’t call him T-Bone because of his steaks.

And Colton Ridge? The two of them will give Ava Wilde a double helping of…big beef.
Remember: With a Vanessa Vale book, one cowboy is never enough. In this smokin’ hot series, each heroine gets an extra helping (or two) of Grade-A Beefcake.

Sir Loin of Beef is available NOW!

Amazon ⇢
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Google Play ⇢


About the Author:
Vanessa Vale is the USA Today Bestselling author of over 30 books, sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance series and hot contemporary romances featuring unapologetic bad boys who don’t just fall in love, they fall hard. When she’s not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys, is figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker, and teaches a pretty mean karate class. While she’s not as skilled at social media as her kids, she loves to interact with readers.
Connect with Vanessa!