Release Blitz

Show Stopper by BJ Harvey

Title: Show Stopper
Series: Chicago First Responders #1
Author: BJ Harvey
Genre: Feel Good Rom/Com; Firefighter Romance
Release Date: August 31, 2020
The first time they meet it’s by chance. The second is surely a coincidence. The third…it’s either destiny or he’s a stalker.
Renee Hamilton has a thing against men in uniform. In her experience, they play hard, lie harder. Marco Rossi has a thing for feisty brunette women with a backbone and a smart mouth, especially one in particular who’s playing hard to get.
She’s fiercely independent and wants better for herself.
He loves helping people so much it’s literally his job.
Worst case scenario, they crash and burn.
Lucky for Renee, Marco has a hose, he knows how to use it, and he happens to love putting out all kinds of fires; real or otherwise.
USA Today Bestselling Author BJ Harvey brings you Showstopper – Book 1 in a new spin-off to the Cook Brothers rom com series, featuring Chicago first responders fighting the good fight and finding love at the same time. Set in the same world as the Bliss, Game, and Cook Brothers series before it, this title can be read as a complete standalone.
Marco – Hey. How’s your day going? Fallen into the arms of any men lately?
Renee – Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I’ve had no showings today. I’m in the office proofing marketing materials and doing boring admin stuff. Unless I trip over my own feet and my fifty-five-year-old broker John catches me, I don’t think I’ll be needing your rescue services today.
Marco – I wouldn’t rule it out. So, what heels are you wearing?
Renee – Should I take that question as you admitting to a foot fetish?
Marco – Isn’t it a little early in our relationship to be asking about sexual preferences? 
Renee – Isn’t it a little presumptuous to be using labels?
Marco – Touché.
Renee – Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question, Lieutenant. 
Marco – My sister just told me you’re a closet Brewers fan. Please tell me she’s screwing with me, otherwise it might be the first thing in your con column.
Renee – Brewers . . . they’re a football team, right?
Marco – On my way to a call-out now, but don’t think I’m going to let this one go.
Renee – No, definitely not a Brewers fan. Cubs for life, through and through. I fly the W proudly. Be safe, Lieutenant.
Marco – Always, princess.
Renee – Princess. . . I like it.
Marco – Just say the word and I’ll bow down at your feet willingly.
Renee – Lieutenant Rossi, I’ve heard you are a good guy. Do you have further testimonials to support this claim?
Marco – You sure know how to make a long shift go faster. And no, I don’t have a collection of references to hand out to future dates.
Renee – That is a shame. Word-of-mouth is key in my line of work.
Marco – Surely my meddling sister’s confirmation that I’m not a douchebag is proof enough?
Renee – LOL. Skye might just see you as a charity case that needs a woman’s touch.
Marco – I’m trying so hard not to go near that one. I will say that I’m not afraid to put in the work to get a woman’s touch on my own.
Renee – I’ll put that in your pro column then.
Marco – I hope you’ve got a lot of room on that side of the list. You’re going to need it.
BJ Harvey is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Bliss Series. She regards herself as a smut peddler, suspense conjurer, and a funny romance thinker upper. An avid music fan, you will always find her singing some hit song badly and loving every minute of it. She’s a wife, a mom to two beautiful tweenagers, and was born in New Zealand and currently lives in Perth, Australia.
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Travellers by Lisa Bell

Title: Travellers
Series: Book 1 in The Centurion Duet
Author: Lisa Bell
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Release Date: July 15, 2020
What would you do if you found out that you had been lied to from birth?
Rebecca finds this out from a complete stranger. Mysterious Ben literally sweeps her away into a world of magic, danger, and downright craziness.
She is thrown into a whirlwind dystopia where she needs to hone her newly-found powers and discovers that she has more to offer than she thought.
Together they embark on an action-packed race to save themselves and their kind.
Mad Hatter: Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’ ‘Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, turning to Alice again. ‘No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: ‘What’s the answer?’ ‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter. 
—Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland 
‘Get in.’ 
I froze. One foot on the sidewalk, the other still in the road, I found myself wondering why I was even listening to a random voice on my walk home. When the man repeated his instruction, I realised I recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite place it. 
‘Get in! You’re in danger. Listen to me!’ 
I hesitated, and looked down at the dark green sports car. It wasn’t familiar and I was about to keep walking, telling myself that at this time of night, it was best to ignore all and every possible solicitation. 
‘If you don’t get into the car now, they will be here in 5 minutes. I don’t know if I can protect you after that. Please, Rebecca!’ 
For a few seconds I debated the “they” who were arriving in 5 minutes, and this man in the car, wondering which unknown could be more dangerous. I realised too then that he had said my name, which sent a spike of alarm up my spine. Could Dad be in trouble, ill, worse still, dead? I moved towards the car hesitantly then stopped again, shaking my head. Mother said never to get into strangers’ cars, yet here I was considering it. I stepped back again and leaned down, peering into the passenger window. It was too dark to see inside even though the window was down, and the driver was on the other side of the car. In the back of my mind, it niggled me that he would be on the right-hand side. We were in America, after all. 
I didn’t want to get too close, now feeling even more apprehensive. I backed up and looked around. There was no one else but us in this all of a sudden very quiet part of downtown Chicago. 
“Rebecca!” His voice had risen an octave or two and he sounded very panicked, much like my heart at that moment. 
As if by remote control, I found myself moving towards the now open door and sliding my bags and legs in. As I leaned back into the seat, an arm immediately reached across me and pulled the door shut. I flinched and breathed in quickly, imagining that this was my end. Taking in a clean, soapy scent, which was strangely comforting, I prepared myself to be harmed. 
‘I told you not to change your plans!’ He gritted out and I looked up at him. 
‘You!’ I whispered, and then all went black. 
The effects of my deep sleep lay heavy on my eyelids and I took a deep breath in through my nose, coughing as I smelt a pungent sulphuric scent in the air. Added to that, the air felt thick and heavy, almost devoid of fresh oxygen. The feeling that something was closing in on me and pushing me down was overpowering. Nausea built up in my throat; and I pushed my hands up above me, flinging the bedding away from me, sitting up in bewilderment. 
After hastily swinging my legs out of the bed, I padded over to the balcony door and, holding my nose, pulled the string to open the blinds. The strangest sight greeted me. The sky was coated with heavy purple clouds as if God had taken a swing with a big brush. I could, though, just see the sun behind the darkness, desperately trying to push its way through. 
Shoving the heavy double doors open and hearing the resounding bang against the wall, I flinched then took another deep breath in, regretting it instantly. More suffocating sulphur flooded my lungs, and I gagged, feeling the threat of a full-on vomit in the back of my throat. 
Then it happened. A flash of light broke through the clouds like a comic-book rendition of a lightning fork, hung there for a second, shimmered, then disappeared. Again, the light spliced through the clouds twice, thrice. A static feeling coursed through my body, starting at my toes and edging its way up to the top of my head. It was similar to the effects of a knife in the toaster shock but prolonged its pulsating jolt throughout my entire body. I could feel the hair on my head literally lift and reach for the skies while a wave of nausea hit my belly low and deep. Shutting my eyes briefly, I swallowed a few times. 
What met my eyes, as I opened them, was the cloudy mist slowly peeling back, like a movie played backwards. The sun started to show its dazzling self through the dissipating mist, too bright and too sudden. As the rays reflected off the glassy lake below, I had to shield my eyes. It was as if the world had just woken up in a split second. Where there had been no sound before, I could now hear the familiar morning birds and the movement of the branches swaying in the gentle breeze. 
I stepped back, almost tripping, and realised that I was up against my bed. Feeling quite disorientated, I had a brief memory of standing outside before the flashes occurred and wondering how the hell I had landed up here. 
A piercing trill filled the air. My alarm! I rugby tackled over the bed and hit the clock to stop the ear- splitting sound. Silence. The day had begun, it seemed, as it would normally, like every other day. I shook my head. Crazy woman! Had I imagined all that? 
I caught a movement to my right and turned abruptly, giving myself a little scare as my own reflection stared back at me. I gave a giggle, feeling quite silly, and took a moment to study my face. 
My skin seemed too pale in the morning light, the shadows under my eyes too dark and my short- cropped hair too wild. I sighed. I needed to give myself a break. I had just woken up. Not everyone could look like Sealy Posturepedic lady in the morning. 
I screwed my eyes up at my reflection again. I didn’t know who I looked like. I never thought I looked like my father or his family, and I had never seen my mother. My father never spoke of her or had shown me photos. His explanation had been simply that she had taken them all when she left us around about when I was 8 months old. 
My dark-brown eyes studied my sleepy face. Straight nose, too long for my liking. Strong chin, so I was told, framed by short almost-black hair. I was medium height I guessed and had a decent figure. The running helped with that. 
Running? I looked at the clock then: 5 a.m. ‘Time to run,’ I said out loud. My voice sounded strange, far away, an echo; and I realised my ears felt blocked. Pinching my nose between my finger and thumb, I blew. Pop! That was better. 
I slid to the floor, feeling for my slippers again, realising they were probably on the other side of the bed, having come off in my wild fly across to the alarm clock. The wooden floors were cool under my feet, and I was surprised how warm my feet were. Strange, as a little while ago, I was cold. I shook my head 
again. Strange weather patterns this morning. 
Slipping quickly into my running shorts, a warm top, socks and trainers, I pulled a peaked cap securely over my wild short crop, grabbed my keys and headed out the door. 
The air was cold but felt good against my skin. I loved my early morning runs. They invigorated me like nothing else and gave me time to think about the day to come. Running my own business proved taxing at the best of times. Just the management of staff and finances was stressful enough, not to mention the actual business of bringing income in. 
As I headed towards the beachfront to run along Chicago’s magnificent Lake Michigan, I thought about the day I had ahead of me. Staff meeting at 9 and meeting with possible merger company at 11. That thought gave me a nervous jolt in the pit of my stomach, and I shoved it to the back of my mind, not sure why I felt that way. Lunch with Joss at 12:30. I was looking forward to that. Bubbly, electric Joss was so much fun, and we always had a laugh together. Then there was some paperwork to prepare for the next day’s meetings followed by a quick trip home to a soaking candlelit bath. 
The fact that I was thinking about my end-of-day soak already was a clear sign that I wasn’t looking forward to today much. I normally had a high work rate stemming from a father who always pushed me hard from an early age and a passion for my work that got me through the day and week so fast that I had to stop at times and wonder where the time went to. Today I felt the tension sitting tightly in my neck, slipping its way into my upper back and shoulders. Why was I feeling like this? 
I turned right onto Lake Shore Drive along the lake pavilion and admired the sun lighting up the water. This was so beautiful. This was a crisp winter morning in one of my favourite cities. One of the reasons I’d moved here from South Africa was this beauty. Not that South Africa wasn’t beautiful, but there was just so much charm and character about Chicago that appealed to me. Having spent a year here as a young adult, I had fallen in love and vowed to come back when I could. 
Now I had an established insurance brokerage in the heart of the city, built up from nothing. I felt like I had achieved so much, yet there was always something more I wanted. I couldn’t quite understand what drove me to do certain things sometimes. I just knew that I couldn’t stop searching. Life didn’t seem quite complete yet. Perhaps that was just the effects and results of my overachieving father and frustratingly not- so-concerned mother. Joss would just say I was full of shit. Perhaps, but I did wish I could just settle down and accept this was my life now. 
As I neared my turnaround point, I slowed down to a jog, heading towards the water fountain for a drink. I wasn’t alone, so I stretched my legs out while waiting for the runner ahead of me to finish his thirst quenching. 
The runner, a tall man wearing black shorts and a white T-shirt, stood up from the fountain, turned and immediately started running my way. He collided into me, and our heads knocked together with a resounding thwack. 
‘Aaah! Damn!’ I cried out. He spat out something a little more unladylike and stepped away from me. Holding my head, I stumbled backwards, catching my trainer in a ditch. As my leg gave in, I could feel my ankle twist slightly and felt a sharp shooting pain up my Achilles. I fell onto the grass with a scream of pain. ‘Oh hell!’ I heard him say as he tried to grab for me, his sweaty hands sliding off my slick forearms. 
I felt a tingle ripple up my arm from his touch, a static current that made the hairs stand up on my skin. Landing with a thud on my behind, I sat still with closed eyes. I could hear my breathing clearly, and I was sure I heard my heart drumming a very erratic beat in my heaving chest. The nausea started then deep in the pit of my stomach and built up towards my throat. I swallowed quickly, tasting the bile, and squeezed my eyes tight. 
As I opened my eyes tentatively, soft, concerned brown eyes were directly parallel with mine. ‘I am so sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I honestly didn’t realise you were behind me. Obviously!’ I swallowed once more, realising that my heart was still beating very fast—abnormally fast for my fit body. The man had his hands on my forearms and was looking over my legs, seemingly to see if there was any real visible damage. 
‘I’m fine. I think,’ I managed to mumble. 
The nausea seemed to be getting worse, and I felt a strange claustrophobic feeling coming over me too. This man seemed all too close all of a sudden. I tried to move my arms away from his, very unsuccessfully, as his grip was quite firm. 
‘Really, I’m fine. I’m going to get up now.’ He looked into my eyes again with a searching, troubled look. He had such nice eyes. A deep brown, almond shaped, close set, heavy brows—but not too heavy. What was I thinking? I shook my head. 
‘Okay,’ he said slowly, releasing his grip. ‘Can I help you up, at least?’ I pushed myself up from my awkward position and gratefully took his hand. Another shock radiated up my hand from his touch, and I pulled away. He did too, with a whistle through his teeth. We looked at each other quickly, and he gave a small laugh. 
‘The weather,’ he said, like that explained it. He gingerly offered his hand again with a smile that turned the one corner of his mouth up slightly. I couldn’t help giving him a small smile back, and when I reached my hand again to his, he pulled me to my feet. This time, there was no static shock from our touching skin this time. 
I realised, before I put my foot down, that my ankle wasn’t right, so I tested it first instead of putting my full weight on it. He hadn’t let my hand go and seemed to be waiting to see how the foot held out. It was tender, but there was no shooting pain, thankfully. 
I looked up at him and smiled. ‘Thanks. I think I’m fine now.’ He hesitantly let my hand go, and I stepped back onto the same foot, instantly regretting it as it gave in. Before I could fall back again, he had grabbed both my arms and pulled me towards his chest. I landed up smacking into his forehead with mine. 
‘Ow!’ I cried out. I tried leaning my head away from his but couldn’t move much. We were locked against each other— very close, too close, ‘suffocatingly’ close, nauseatingly close. I could feel the heat and sweat permeating from our bodies as we stood there; the only saving grace was a cool lake breeze, meandering its way in between us. 
‘I . . . um . . .’ I stuttered. He was so close I could see the little rivers of sweat trickling down the sides of his face over his unshaven skin. His lips were slightly parted, warm breath against my cheek. The static from earlier was tingling all over me now, and the nausea threatened to become a full-on vomit. I jerked myself away, landing on the good foot this time. 
‘Sorry,’ he said, and I glanced up at him from under my peek. His forehead was creased into a frown, and his previously soft brown eyes had turned to hard dark globes. I took a quick breath in and felt a little afraid of him. 
‘It’s fine. Thanks. I’m fine . . . um . . . really. Thanks for your help. I’ll be off now.’ I whirled around and started running. Even though my ankle pained, I kept running, trying to run smoothly, as if the foot were fine. I rounded the corner by the toilet area, glanced back once, couldn’t see him anymore and then slowed to a stop. 
Panting, I bent over, leaning on my knees. Taking a deep breath, preparing myself, I twisted my foot around a few times. It seemed fine, just a little achy and was most probably just a sprain. I started running again and made it home at a much-slower pace than my first 5 kilometres. 
Edgewater Beach Apartments was just off Lake Shore Drive and about 1 kilometre from the actual beach. I was lucky to have been able to secure an apartment here as they were very sought after. What with the building being mimicked on the Edgewater Beach Hotel, which was built early 1900s and frequented by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Marilyn Monroe and many others, these apartments were very prestigious. 
After a shower, I dressed in my pale grey work suit, slipped on my pumps, applied minimal makeup, donned a warm jacket and headed downstairs. Breakfast was a quick cup of tea, a slice of rye and a banana. I had a decent walk ahead of me to the office, but once outside, I realised how cold it was and how tender my ankle felt, so I hailed a taxi and relaxed the rest of the way in the comfort of the warm cabbie. 
Later that morning, in my office, I sat at my desk, preparing for the meeting looming up at 11. Glasses perched on my nose, peering at the laptop then down at my papers, I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. 
A small clearing of the throat brought my head up quickly. 
‘Rebecca, sorry to bother you. I know you are busy,’ Lilly whispered, bending over my desk slowly. ‘No, it’s fine, Lil.’ I sighed. ‘I just want to make sure I have all my ducks in a row before they get here. What’s up?’ 
She visibly relaxed and said, ‘This gentleman phoned. Well, it’s the third time now since you said I mustn’t disturb you. He won’t leave his name or number and says it’s very personal.’ 
I frowned. ‘Okay, so if he phones again, you can put him through.’ She nodded and walked out. Lilly was new and appeared nervous about everything. I wondered if I made her nervous. I didn’t think that I did. I hoped I didn’t. Putting that thought to one side, I grabbed the phone as it rang. 
‘Yes?’ I said into the speaker, hearing my impatient, tense voice. I had to tone myself down. Maybe she was nervous of me. I would be too with a boss who answered the phone like that. 
‘It’s him,’ Lilly whispered. ‘Okay, put “him” through. Thanks.’ I listened to the hold music then silence. ‘Rebecca, good day,’ I greeted as the call came through. Silence again. ‘Hello?’ I said. Nothing. ‘Lilly!’ I called. ‘There is no—’ 
‘Rebecca?’ a deep, smooth voice spoke. Then I felt it. The static charge, same as this morning, like someone had brushed up against my arm. The sensation started at my fingertips and coursed up my arm to the top of my head again. Nausea . . . swallow . . . close eyes . . . swallow. I opened my eyes again slowly. I was now standing up at my desk. I squeezed my eyes shut once more for a second, opened them and thought about the voice. It was strangely familiar. 
(Thank you for reading this short teaser – and I do hope you read and review!) 
Lisa Bell 
I have been writing romantic fiction since a teen, and what started as a way to escape, has now materialised into a passion and love. I run my digital and content creation agency during the day and still manage to escape into my fantasy world of words whenever I get a gap.
I would describe my style of writing as easy-go-to-fantasy. While my first novel, The Shifters, now titled Travellers, following a 10-year turbulent journey of publishing and marketing faux pas, I believe I have now found my true niche in the urban fantasy genre. While Travellers will technically be a republish, in my eyes, it is a new and first novel debut.
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Caught Up In You by Claire Hastings

Title: Caught Up In You
Series: Indigo Royal Resort #2
Author: Claire Hastings
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 24, 2020


Leona Filipe loves her job. As the head of housekeeping at the luxurious Indigo Royal Resort on St. Thomas, USVI, she has seen it all and has the wild stories to prove it. She works with her best friends, is close enough to see her family often, and has the perfect friends-with-benefits relationship. Life is pretty damn amazing. Except for the two weeks each year that Cullen Cruz stays at the resort. He is the only man who can get under her skin. But that is all he’s getting under. She made that mistake years ago, and it will never happen again.

Fresh off the news of his “retirement” from football, Cullen Cruz cannot wait to get to the Indigo Royal for his annual retreat before returning to England to figure out what’s next. Only this year, it’s been turned into a “working vacation” by his agent, who volunteered Cullen to run a skills camp for local kids. While that wouldn’t normally sit well, extending the trip to teach some kids how to kick a ball does mean two more weeks getting to see the woman he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since their first, and last, encounter ten years ago.

When fate forces these two to confront what happened between them that night all those years ago, they find that there is more to each other than they realized, and that maybe they don’t annoy each other as much as they thought…

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She stood her ground, trying to make herself taller, which really only resulted in her pushing her beautiful breasts out farther. She swallowed hard. “Stay the fuck away from me, Cruz.”
“No, Menina, I won’t,” he responded, stepping even closer, so there was almost no gap between them now. He could hear her breath catch as he did so, which made his heart speed up even more. Maybe she did still want him. “Here’s what I think. I think you want me. Under all that piss and vinegar, what you really want is another ride,” he whispered into her ear.
Her breath hitched slightly, betraying the scowl on her face. Regaining her composure just as quick as she’d let it slip, she growled, “Not a chance.” 
“Really?” he whispered again, skeptical of her answer.
He reached out and put his hand on her waist. Before she could pull away, he yanked her into him, hard. Her soft curves smashed into his hard chest, making them both catch their breath. He felt her body shiver in his arms and saw her eyes darken with desire, just as a bolt of lust ran through his own body. Before he could stop himself, he reached down and scooped her up by her ass. She let out a little gasp, which he quickly silenced by covering her mouth with his.
She tasted sweet, just like he remembered. Her soft lips felt like heaven against his and, in this moment, for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t done this years ago. Her body was stiff in his arms, as if she were fighting an internal battle on whether or not to resist. She fisted her hands in his shirt, as if she couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted to push him away or pull him in closer. Helping her make the decision, he pulled her in even tighter. As much as she tried to hide it, he knew she wanted this—wanted him. He’d seen the flame of desire in her eyes.
After a moment, the initial shock wore off, and she slid her arms around his neck, returning his kiss fully. It was like something had ignited the flame inside her and she poured all her passion and anger into her efforts. Her tongue met his and it was like fireworks went off in his body. He couldn’t remember the last time something as simple as a kiss had felt this good. Maybe never. His left hand dipped to squeeze her butt cheek, causing her to whimper and moan in excitement. This only fueled him on more—kissing her harder, deeper, wanting even more of her.
When he finally pulled away, it took him a moment to open his eyes, afraid that he might see regret in hers. But it wasn’t regret that was shining back at him—it was a mix of surprise and longing. And it made him want to kiss her again.
She unhooked her arms from his neck, sliding back down his body. When her feet met the ground, she lifted her hand to her lips, slowly running her fingers across them, in disbelief at what had just happened. She looked back up at him, but only for a second before turning and running away.

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Coming Soon

Releasing January 25


Author Bio

Claire Hastings is a walking, talking awkward moment. She loves Diet Coke, gummi bears, the beach, and books (obvs). When not reading she can usually be found hanging with friends at a soccer match or grabbing food (although she probably still has a book in her purse). She and her husband live in Atlanta with their fur-child Denali.

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Beneath the Broken by Elle Keating

Title: Beneath the Broken
Series: Dangerous Love Series
Author: Elle Keating
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 25, 2020
Cover Design:Arijana Karčič, Cover It! Designs
“… a beautifully written slow burn story which is an emotional roller coaster throughout, and I was captivated from the start by this riveting tale.” ~Wendy’s Book Blog
Gabe McGinnis loves his job as a commercial fisherman, his bayside cottage at the Jersey shore and his large Italian-Irish family. But there is something missing in his life, something that he both longs for and fears. Because of his past, Gabe has never been intimate with a woman.
Single mom Devan Murray is more than ready to ditch her business suits and hectic lifestyle in New York City and move to the calm beach town of Avalon with her son. They both are in need of a fresh start. But the moment she locks eyes with her sexy new next-door neighbor, she’s feeling anything but calm. Just the sight of him has her wanting things she hasn’t experienced in more years than she cares to admit. But Gabe conjures up more than just butterflies in Devan’s stomach whenever they are together. She has questions, the kind you are afraid to ask…because the answers you may receive may be too horrific to hear.
Elle Keating is the author of romance novels with sexy heroes and fierce females. Her first book, Thrill of the Chase (Dangerous Love, #1), was published by Forever Romance’s digital imprint, Forever Yours, in 2015. She has since expanded the series and released the Dream Duet and the taboo romance, Keeping His Commandments. Elle is currently working on several projects including the sequel to her paranormal romance, Into Temptation, and a steamy forbidden romance that may raise some eyebrows.
When Elle isn’t torturing her heroes and heroines (don’t worry, there’s always a happily ever after), she is a public school administrator and enjoys spending time with her husband and 3 children in New Jersey. For more on Elle and her books, visit
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Explosive by KE Osborn

Title: Explosive
Series: The Houston Defiance MC Series #1
Author: KE Osborn
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: August 24, 2020
Cover Design: Designs by Dana Cover Model: Kevin Creekman
I couldn’t walk away.
It’s not who I am.
The moment I saw Rayne broken and bloodied, I knew I wasn’t leaving without her.
As the president of the Houston Defiance MC, my job is to protect. And there’s no taming the rage building inside my body, screaming at me to shield her from the husband who’s beating her day in and day out.
Taking her was never in my plans, but plans change.
I don’t care if she’s married.
Or that her husband’s a cop.
Our connection is explosive, it’s dangerous, it’s intoxicating.
And I’m fast being swept up in her storm.
It’s something I can’t ignore.
I thought the enemy was clear, and I was ready to fight.
But maybe there’s a threat we didn’t see coming?
Maybe there’s someone closer to us than we ever could have imagined.
Someone who could be the destruction of us both. 
I start moving toward the exit. My chest heats so fucking much it’s like I’m on fire. I don’t know what the hell’s happening right now, but having Rayne in my arms, knowing while I’m holding her, and no fucking person in the world can touch her, it has my body flaming in adrenaline.
This woman is bad news.
Real bad fucking news.
Her eyes linger on me as I walk with her from the bedroom, down the hall, and outside to the waiting van. Having her right up against me like this is not doing my cock any favors. She smells like peaches and fucking sunsets.
How the fuck can someone smell like a sunset? It’s like I’m going out of my damn mind right now.
She’s invading my senses as I help her inside the van, placing her in the rear seat.
“I don’t understand why you’re helping me?” Her eyes lock onto mine.
My protector mode rears its head yet again as I lean over her grabbing at the seat belt to pull over her. Our faces come in line with each other.
Rayne scrunches up her face, reaching for the seat belt. “I can put on my own seat belt.”
I jerk my head back as she removes it from my grip while trying to gain control of the situation. I pull it back from her and click it into position. “I’m sure you can, but I need to ensure you’re taken care of. Can’t get you out of this situation and have you injured on the way into the club because you’re not buckled in properly.”
Her eyes widen. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said. One, you think I’m incapable of something as simple as doing up a seat belt. And two, you believe your driving is so bad I’m going to be injured on the way to wherever it is you’re taking me?”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Then you need to think about how you word shit, ‘cause you’re coming across as an arrogant ass.”
I glare at her smug, insolent, beautiful face. “You have an attitude problem, cherry bomb.”
She snorts. “And you think you can control me because I get beaten up by my husband? He might walk all over me, but you…” she tilts her head smugly, “… not so much.”
Hmm. She has a feisty side.
I lean in closer. Her eyes widen, and her breathing hitches. She’s affected. “I like your fighting spirit, Rayne. You are a wild one.”
She leans in closer, we’re only an inch apart, the smell of peach surrounds me. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to rush forward pressing my lips to hers. My eyes stare into her incandescent emerald green eyes, they’re so alive, so alight with fire. She has so much fight in her. As she licks her bottom lip, my cock twitches when she whispers, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
A low hum vibrates from my chest as I exhale, backing away from Rayne slowly.
She’s trouble with a capital ‘I’m screwed.’ 
Australian author K E Osborn was born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia. With a background in graphic design and a flair for all things creative, she felt compelled to write the story brewing in her mind.
Writing gives her life purpose. It makes her feel, laugh, cry and get completely enveloped in the characters and their story lines. She feels completely at home when writing and wouldn’t consider doing anything else.
Release Blitz

Hot Pickle by JJ Knight

Title: Hot Pickle
Author: JJ Knight
Genre: Standalone Romantic Comedy
Release Date: August 31, 2020


He’s about to become a very big dill.
A best friend’s sister rom com from USA Today bestselling author JJ Knight

I’m rock hard.
No, not like that.
When that happens, you won’t need me to tell you.

I’m a competitive bodybuilder, ready for my first regional contest. And winning requires more than just killer workouts, diet, or stage presence.

It’s all about the tan.

My training partner Franklin uses the best in the business — Camryn Schultz. She understands the career killer of a badly placed white spot.
She’s also his sister.

So when the craptastic tan I’m given for my first competition requires an emergency patch, Frank knows exactly who to call.
The thing is, when Camryn’s hands hit my skin, more than a few muscles spring to life.
I’m about to head on stage in the tiniest Speedo imaginable and parts of me no longer fit.

What I need to do for my friendship and my future on the circuit is to walk away.

But when Camryn’s got her hands on my hard body, there’s no way this Pickle is going to get anything but hot.

Hot Pickle is a 300-page standalone romantic comedy about workout junkies, bodybuilding gods, and the couple who sprays together, stays together.

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Free in Kindle Unlimited


Camryn waits for me to shed my pants. I almost trip over them, anxious and unsure. She’s getting to me. I toss them on the floor with my bag and hold out my arms.

“Tell me the damage.”

Camryn makes a slow walk around me, tapping the end of a makeup brush against her cheek.

“You smeared the color here when you put on your trunks. You should always wear them for your final day tan to avoid this.” Her hand smooths something low on my ass, and everything in my body goes warm.

My eyes blink shut, and I try to concentrate on something other than her touch. I run through my bodybuilding poses, picturing myself on the stage.

Something bonks my nose, and I open my eyes to see Camryn standing there again. “I have your back acceptable. You shouldn’t lose any points.”

Before I can even get in a thank you, the end of her brush pokes my chest. “But we have to do something about these abs. You have a light patch just below your navel in the critical area from belly button to…”

She hesitates. “Below.”

I don’t know what she was going to call it, but apparently it’s a word she doesn’t want to use around me.

I can’t stifle my grin. “You saying my happy trail is too bright?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m saying the lack of consistent color won’t do you any favors with the judges.”

“Do with me what you must.”

Okay, now hold up.

I have to pause the story here.

Because this, my friend, is where Camryn gets on her knees in front of my junk, a tube in her hand.

And things get really awkward.

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Author Bio

JJ Knight is the USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and romantic comedy. She’s never met a pickle she didn’t want to eat.

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Release Blitz

Ruthless Bishop by Veronica Eden

Title: Ruthless Bishop
Series: Sinners and Saints Book 3
Author: Veronica Eden
Genre: Dark NA Romance/Bully Romance
Release Date: August 31, 2020
One wrong move and it’s over. 
I was invisible until I wasn’t.
One mistyped number became the catalyst to my hell on earth when I accidentally sent a risqué photo to the blackmail king of Silver Lake High. Now Connor Bishop holds it as a bargaining chip over my head. I’ve become his doll, at his mercy in a corrupt castle.
Better do as he says or else, or else, or else…
His thumb is on the send button every time I try to buck his command. Can I survive a private photo going viral instead of living this life of torment?
It’s not right. Maybe it’s time his castle burns down.
Secrets and favors built my throne.
Meek. Shy. Wholesome.
Thea Kennedy was picture-perfect innocence until she wasn’t. The unexpected photo is the juiciest secret to land in my lap in a while. Who knew she was hiding luscious curves under frumpy sweaters?
With one racy selfie, Thea stepped into my world, where I control the board. I’ll trap the little mouse and won’t let her escape the depraved kingdom I built.
But there are darker monsters than me lurking in the shadows. They want to take a bite out of my little mouse. I don’t like sharing what’s mine.
“You’re still not forgiven. I’m only here because you’re blackmailing me. I wouldn’t come near you otherwise.”

“You certainly were ready to come all over me before.” The glare I direct at him drops the temperature in the car by a few degrees. He blows out a slow, strained breath and grips the wheel with both hands. “Okay. Whatever. Noted.”

We ride in silence for a long stretch. The drive to school isn’t long, and I realize I’m wasting a good opportunity for the details I’m desperate for.

“So what’s our deal? Or rather, your deal that I have no choice but to accept because the alternative is…yeah, no thanks. Asshole.” I shift a little to face him better as we drive through Ridgeview, turning onto the tree-lined road that leads up to the school. “When did we get together? How did it happen?”

Connor cuts a look at me from the corner of his eye. “We’ll keep it simple so it’s easy to remember. We’ve grown up as neighbors. Got together over summer or something. You’re the girl next door, what’s not to like about that?”

I frown as he hitches a shoulder. “That’s unimaginative.”

Amusement crosses his face. “We could always use the true version: you sent me a wrong number nude and I was like aight.”

“You ass! We are not using that. And I wasn’t naked.”

“Yet. Shortly after?” Connor hums, shifting in the driver’s seat. “So gloriously naked.”

With a scandalized squeal, I swat his arm, overwhelmed by his proximity and what he’s saying. He drives me to things I never do.

He laughs. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a crooked grin as he turns the wheel with the heel of his palm, entering the student parking lot.

“You want a whirlwind romance, or something? I’m just trying to make it easy. It’s not like it’s real.”

The words slice me and I suck in a pained gasp.

It’s not real.


For as big as his SUV is, I’m suffocated by being so near to him while my emotions spiral.

Connor is my first actual boyfriend, but it’s all fake.
Veronica Eden is the author of dark new adult romances + reverse harem romances with spitfire heroines and irresistible heroes. She loves exploring complicated feelings, magical worlds, epic adventures, and the bond of characters that embrace us against the world. She has always been drawn to gruff antiheroes, clever villains, and the twisty-turns of morally gray decisions. She believes sometimes the villain should get the girl and is a sucker for a deliciously devilish antihero. Veronica Eden is the pen name of romance author Mara Townsend. When not writing, she can be found soaking up sunshine at the beach, snuggling in a pile with her untamed pack of animals (her husband, dog and cat), and surrounding herself with as many plants as she can get her hands on.
Blog Tour

His Ranch Hand

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Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:

His Ranch Hand by Deanna Wadsworth

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Western Passions, Book 1

Cowboys don’t cry.

West of the Pecos, if a man shows a vulnerable side, his last glimpse of this life might be at the end of a barrel.

Cowboy and drifter, Myron Poste shrouds his life in mystery, carefully following a strict code to stay alive. Fellow ranch hand Cade Buchanan is big, hairy, and strong—not the sort of man to trifle with.

One fateful night while driving a herd of Longhorns north to Santa Fe, Cade confronts Myron. With the swiftness of a West Texas wind, desire seizes control and a passionate affair begins. Pride has always held Myron back, but he can no longer deny his submissive nature when Cade gives him just what he craves—pure, lustful dominance.

When the drive ends, they must part ways. Will the memories of their untamed passion under the big Texas sky be powerful enough to reunite them?

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kiss me sweetly


First day of the drive, no men got hurt, but a cow broke its leg, so it was steak for dinner. With a full belly and muscles tired from a long day in the saddle, Myron went to check on Lucy. He’d ridden her this morning, taking out Duke and Brave the rest of the day. Lucy was a jealous sort, so he brought her an apple before he hit the hay. He didn’t have watch duty, and a full night’s sleep called his name.

Young Jacob wasn’t watching over the horses, it was Cade. He leaned against one of the posts of the makeshift corral, having a smoke and his back to Myron.

He only hesitated a moment before casually walking up. “Evening.”

Cade didn’t startle, probably already heard his approach. He turned and a waft of smoke obscured his face. “Poste.”

Ignoring the way the much bigger man’s very presence made Myron jumpy, he clicked his tongue to get Lucy’s attention. Several horses stirred, and after a shuffling of beasts, Lucy, ears up, made her way over. He withdrew his knife and sliced off a piece of the apple.

“Here, girl,” he said, holding out the slice with a flat palm. Her velvety lips fluttered over his hand as she took the treat.

“Gonna have them all over here in a moment,” Cade remarked, as Duke, the bay Myron had ridden this afternoon pushed up against Lucy. He cut him off a piece too.

Cade shifted to lean sideways on the post, smoking. His gaze stayed locked on Myron as he alternated cutting pieces of apple off until it was gone, and a third horse had nosed its way over too, seeking a treat.

“All gone,” Myron told them all, hands up.

“You spoil that horse,” he remarked.

“I do.” When Myron put away his knife, Cade held out his cigarette in offering.

He only hesitated a moment before taking the cigarette and having a nice toke. Cade’s tobacco was sweeter than his, and he liked it. He held the smoke in, and passed the cigarette back, briefly allowing himself to think that once more, their lips had both been on a cigarette. Would Cade’s kisses have the same lingering sweetness of his tobacco?

“Beautiful night,” Cade offered.

Myron stroked Lucy’s nose, desperate for something to anchor his wayward thoughts. He wanted to stay, he needed to leave, and he dreamed about stepping closer. Instead he patted his horse and agreed, “It is.”

“There’s the Big Dipper,” Cade said, pointing up. “And the little one.”

Cade seemed to be in a chatty mood, and though it only made Myron’s yearning stronger, he felt obliged to indulge him. He gazed up at the star-spattered navy blue sky, identifying several constellations right away. He pointed to one. “Orion.”

“Which one is that?” Cade stepped closer, gazing up in the direction Myron had indicated.

There had been no need for Cade to come so close, for no tree obscured their view. And there should be no reason for Myron’s heart to race like a cattle stampede either, but it did nonetheless. He cleared his throat, not surprised by how hoarse he sounded or the way his hand trembled as he pointed at the constellation. “See there, the three small ones all clustered? That’s Orion’s belt.”

Cade moved closer still, but his gaze remained heavenward, using Myron’s finger like the sight on a rifle. “There?” He pointed up too, their arms flush now.

He stood so close, Myron could make out his thick eyelashes in the moonlight, see how long they were, the blond tips disguising that fact at a distance. There was no distance between them now, and their arms were still touching. Helpless, Myron gazed at his full lips and licked his own in want.

“Y-yeah,” Myron choked out, his body responding to Cade’s overwhelming manly scent, his nearness, and the fact that he didn’t mind having his arm pressed against Myron. “Th-that’s it.”

At the peculiar sound of his voice, Cade turned his head and looked right at him. Not moving away, he offered a sideways grin. “You sure? You ain’t even looking up.”


Myron stepped away so fast, Lucy reared her head and huffed her disapproval. Even in the dark Cade had probably seen Myron staring at his mouth. His heart pounded, his arm on fire where it had been pressed to Cade’s. He could still feel the heat of his body and the cold absence of it in the air between them.

“Yes, I was,” Myron argued, feeling a fool. He pointed up with confidence. “You’ve got it. That’s Orion.”

Still smiling at him, Cade flicked his cigarette to the ground, and only released his gaze to glance down and extinguish it. When he looked back up, Myron hoped he didn’t notice the growing bulge in the front of his trousers.

What the hell were you thinking, staring at him so openly?

And why did he stand so close in the first place?

“Thanks for sharing it with me,” Cade said, voice a heady timber that did nothing to quell Myron’s ardor.

“Y-you’re welcome.”

“Now I know three constellations,” Cade said, then he looked up. “Know any more?”

He cleared his throat, and pointed out Pegasus. “That there square? It’s Pegasus.”

“The flying Greek horse?”

Myron couldn’t help but smile at the childlike wonder in Cade’s tone. “Yes, the same.”

“I suppose the stars’ll look different in the Dakotas.”

“Suppose so,” Myron agreed, stuffing his thumbs under his belt and feeling off kilter. “They’re different down here in Texas than they are in Pennsylvania.”

“You stayin’ on another season with Lawson?” Cade questioned after a moment.

“Nope, gotta head back east. My family’s got a bit of a situation I need to tend to, now that Mama’s passed.” He didn’t want the ugliness of what lay in store for his future to tarnish this rare moment alone under a blanket of beautiful stars with a man he craved more than air itself, so he asked, “You’re really going that far up north?”

“Yup, parcels are cheap up there. Public domain land to graze on too.”

“You plan to work it by yourself?”

“At first,” Cade said. “Plan is to get there and build a shelter for me and a couple horses. Figure I’d buy cows in the spring. Won’t let me take Longhorn up there because of the ticks.”

Myron nodded, knowing full well all the hassles settlers and farmers, not to mention the government, inflicted on Texas cattleman because of a tick the cows carried. Didn’t bother the herd, overmuch, but it did cause problems for folks and other animals. That’s why they were driving the herd on the west side of the Pecos through Apache lands to Santa Fe. Too many restrictions on the safer route to the railhead in Abilene.

“Thinkin’ I’ll plant corn for feed,” Cade continued, the excitement evident in his voice. “Maybe have me a little vegetable garden come springtime. We set out later than I wanted with this herd, and the seasons come faster up there. Maybe I can get a few things in the ground before the frost. Or at least till some earth for early spring planting.”

Myron smiled, thinking of Cade harvesting things like tomatoes. He could imagine him taking a bite of one, still warm from the sun and ripe with sweetness, the juice dribbling down his chin and beard, the way Myron had done as a child. Though the visions Cade conjured held none of the innocence of childhood.

Pushing those images away, he said, “Good plan.”

“Don’t suppose I need much more than a snug shelter and supplies for me and the animals over the winter. I’ll be able to hunt too. Can ya just picture it?” Cade said wistfully. “Your own land, a ranch, small house. Maybe someone to share it with.”

At that last whispered sentence, Cade dropped his gaze from the heavens and looked at Myron with a faraway smile.

Myron’s throat went dry but he managed to nod. “You paint a pretty picture, Buchanan.”

He imagined his own version of that picture, the two of them holed up the entire winter, snuggled in one bed inside a tiny little cabin that smelled of man, soot, and horse. His thoughts shouldn’t go to places like that because it made his cock throb. Thankfully the darkness, and Cade fixing his attention back on the sky, provided him a moment to adjust the indiscretion.


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About the Author:

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. An avid reader, she also loves gardening, cooking, music, and dancing. Often she can be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

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Release Boost

Who Wants to Marry a Doctor by Abigail Sharpe

Haven’t you always wanted to read a pocketful of ☀️? Who Wants to Marry a Doctor by Abigail Sharpe is that and more!

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#nowavailable #nowlive #newrelease #rerelease #rereleaseboost #contemporaryromance #romanticcomedy #romcom #doctorromance #romancenovels #romancebooks #bookbuzz


When her pediatric hospital faces a financial crisis, Dr. Sabrina Bankhead is willing to do anything to save it and the children it serves. Agreeing to be the bachelorette for a TV fundraiser seems like the best way to help, until the single mom discovers the host is far more appealing than any of the contestants. But falling for Quinn would ruin the competition and bankrupt the hospital. Plus, his restless nature sets off all of Sabrina’s warning bells, which makes him one big walking Off Limits sign with blue eyes and flashing lights.

While back in the States recovering from a bomb blast in a combat zone, investigative journalist Quinn Donnelly lets his sister talk him into hosting a charity dating show against his better judgment. As a lifelong nomad with a driving need to uncover the injustices in the world, Quinn isn’t looking to give up his work or settle down. Yet he’s blindsided by the irresistible Dr. Bankhead, and suddenly wondering if he could exchange the biggest story of his career for a chance at love and life in a small town.


Abigail is a Boston-bred Yankee now eating grits and saying “y’all” in North Central Florida. Content specialist by day, she doesn’t don a cape at night, but spends her time writing passionate and playful contemporary romance.

When she’s not writing, she can be found wearing a corset and singing bawdy songs with Just Desserts, an a cappella musical comedy act, at places that won’t throw them out. All hail low altos!

Abigail lives with her husband, two kids, and one crazy princess puppy. You can keep up with her at She has a website, too, but it’s horribly outdated, and she’d rather write books than fix the HTML. Only go there if you want to sign up for her newsletter, which she publishes sporadically.

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