#BlogTour | #GuestPost | DAWN OF THE PATRIOT – HEART OF ZIIK by Okimi Peters (October 29th 2019) @fayerogerspr @authoright #HeartofZiik


Plagued by the mysterious death of his older brother, the unassuming yet highly spirited 19 year old Ziik will be thrust on the daunting path to becoming a vigilante in the Third World. Progressively finding himself as a symbol of light through the shadows of Africa’s most populous nation, Nigeria, Ziik must not only weave through the present day complexities of his homeland on his quest for justice; he must also learn to overcome himself to find peace.

Information about the Book

Title: Dawn of the Patriot: Heart of Ziik

Author: Okimi Peters

Genre: Graphic Novel

Page Count: 30

Publisher: Independently Published



Five interesting things about my main protagonist 

The main protagonist of the Dawn of the Patriot story is known as Ziik. The name Ziik was derived from “Nnamdi Azikiwe” – the first president of the federal republic of Nigeria. Dr. Azikiwe was known as the “great Zik of Africa” for his numerous works and contributions to development on the continent of Africa. He was most notably known for leading the anticolonialism movement in Nigeria which led to Nigeria gaining her independence from the British in 1960. The character Ziik stands for liberation and he comes to embody this in the Dawn of the Patriot series. One of the primary philosophies which Dr. Azikiwe stood for saw no divide between humans based on tribe or ethnicity. I also share in this philosophy hence the name, “Ziik.” As trivial as it may sound, choosing a hero character for Africa is inevitably plagued with the question of what tribe the main protagonist would belong to. Considering there are several different tribes, the decision to pick one tribe over another may contribute to the separatist ideology currently plaguing the continent. Although Dr Azikiwe belonged to the Igbo tribe his name was selected because of the philosophy of non-separatism which he embodied. The main protagonist of a superhero story in Africa should be a representation of the collective and not any one particular group. Dr. Azikiwe would concur.

Another interesting thing about the main protagonist, Ziik is that he is male. A male character allows for a more dynamic and aggressive story to be told; in essence, a more action-packed story. Male characters have also been at the forefront of Africa’s triumphs through the ages thus allowing a male character dawn the suit of hero more readily than a female could. Nonetheless, the Dawn of the Patriot series boasts some very dynamic and engaging female characters. The lead female character strives to become the first female president of Nigeria, and she is involved in much problem-solving in the story.

Yet another interesting aspect of Ziik is that he loses his older brother, Victor to the world of crime. Prior to losing his only brother to crime, Ziik was the happy-go-lucky type – a teenager largely naïve about the world. Though he was well aware of the dangers on the continent, Ziik for the most part lived in his own world sheltered from all the raucus. The loss of his brother thrust him out of that narrow bubble of reality and immersed him into a much broader world he had only been a bystander to – the world of crime. Now Ziik must become a detective of sorts, investigating the details surrounding his brother’s death and the larger schemes at play, which his brother was researching. This sets the main plot of the Dawn of the Patriot story. The veil which covered Ziik’s naïve eyes was lifted by the death of a loved one.

Fourth on the list of interesting things about the main protagonist would have to be that he is not alone. Superhero stories often have the lead character be this superman character capable of taking on the world all by himself but Ziik is just a teenager. What does the average teenager know about investigating a murder? Not much I would guess but Ziik comes to fill this role with the help of Awo, his best friend and Simi, Awo’s sister and ultimately Ziik’s love interest. Awo makes him crude gadgets while Simi keeps everyone within the boundaries of good taste. Ziik is nonetheless the one who puts himself and often finds himself in precarious situations as the hero. Together they will embark on this journey of self-revelation and coming to stand for more than oneself.

Last on the list is Ziik’s parkour. Ever since he was a young child, Ziik took on an interest in free running. This adds to his dynamism as a hero character. It also helps to reveal his street smarts which will come in handy as he solves the puzzle behind his brother’s murder. The Dawn of the patriot story showcases some of his parkour but a true appreciation of it would best be captured when a movie is made about the story. If you are unfamiliar with free running, Youtube has clips.

Author Bio:

As a first-time author Okimi Peters is new to writing books but he is not new to the world of writing. He has written scientific papers for reputable journals. His proclivity for writing began during his studies at McGill University where he pursued a Master of Applied Science degree. He wrote several papers and articles as a prerequisite to the attainment of his degree and this instilled in him a strong sense of writing. Okimi would go on to pursue a Doctor of Medicine degree at the University of Toronto as an international student. It is here that he began his first book project, Dawn of the Patriot. This project sparked the birth of the Movie-in-a-book penchant; an initiative that saw Okimi writing his books for big screen adaptation. 

Okimi has since shifted gears from the scientific world into the world of business and currently works as the Executive Director of a telecommunications company called Alpha Technologies Limited. In his own words, “Africa could use more business solutions in transforming her from a third world to a more developed region.”

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/okimi.peters 

You can buy Dawn Of The Patriot: Heart Of Ziik from the following booksellers (and obviously many more! Support your local booksellers where you can!)

Amazon (UK) | Amazon (US) 

#BlogTour | #ExtractReveal | THE FINAL TRAIL @LoveBookTours #AAAbbottstories


Family feuds just got bloodier… A gripping thriller, and a great story of death, revenge and vodka.

To save glamorous Kat White’s life, Ben Halloran killed his gangster father. Now his brother wants to even the score.

The gripping Trail series of British crime thrillers reaches its dramatic conclusion in this compelling page-turner.  


This is how “The Final Trail” begins. Glamorous Kat White has climbed from rags to riches. She’s built a successful vodka brand and got engaged to the man of her dreams. Her life should be peachy, but the ghosts of the past still have a grip – and threaten to drag her back down. Read the first page of this compelling thriller, the final story in a saga of vodka makers and villains.

“I opened the door,” Kat said, “and saw a man with a gun.” 

She heard muffled gasps from the public gallery behind her. Shaun Halloran’s inquest had attracted quite an audience. The London gangster had died at his son’s hand over a year before, but Kat’s involvement lent the case a touch of glamour. Media, family, friends and random onlookers were squashed into the oak benches. Despite the unseasonal April heat, barely disturbed by a brass fan whirring overhead, the courtroom’s atmosphere was charged with excitement.

To her right, the jurors’ eyes bored into her. Before, they’d been slouching in their casual outfits, layers gradually removed as the humid air took hold. Now, Kat had their full attention. There was even a slack-jawed stare from the young, bearded man who’d been leering when she took the stand earlier.

She was hardly dressed to thrill. Her plain black shift and jacket was a frumpy choice for a twenty-seven-year-old. It didn’t flatter her curves like the outfits she’d worn for glossy magazine shoots, but it contrasted with her blonde hair and creamy skin. A lapel brooch highlighted her green eyes.

Amy, her best friend, had counselled Kat on her appearance before they packed for the trip to London. Kat was well-known as the face of Starshine vodka, the craft brand that was the trendiest drink this year. There would be media interest. She needed to look smart.

Knowing Amy was sitting behind the witness box, only inches away, gave Kat strength to face the jury. Even so, she was gripping the edge of the wooden witness box to stop her hands shaking. The only way she’d coped with the events of that day was to keep memories buried…

Copyright © 2019 A.A. Abbott

Find out more about the Trail series of psychological thrillers here, and about “The Final Trail” at mybook.to/TheFinalTrail. All five crime thrillers are available in ebook, paperback and LARGE PRINT (link to website), which is also super-easy for dyslexic readers to enjoy.

#BlogTour | #Extract | COFFEE TRAVELLER by Fahad Ben G @lordfahad1 (October 29th 2019) @fayerogerspr @authoright


A collection of musings about travel, life, love, family, relationships, the future and growing up in Saudi Arabia, by the author and poet Fahad Ben G.

Information about the Book

Title: Coffee Traveller

Author: Fahad Ben G.

Release Date: 29th October 2019

Genre: Poetry

Page Count: 140

Publisher: Clink Street Publishing



Invisible lines tie me to you whether I like it or not.

No matter how much I travel away from you, no matter how far we are, and no matter how different our roads are;

No matter how distinct our stations are, and no matter how your routes and mine are different;

The invisible lines continue to tie me to you.

Constant they are… they exceed the multitude of people between you and me.

Tense they are…indifferent to the laws of the universe or the gravity of Earth.

Unaffected by the amount of rocks and dismal valleys,

That separate my icy mountain from your flaming mountain…

You can buy Coffee Traveller from the following booksellers (and obviously many more! Support your local booksellers where you can!)

Amazon (UK) | Amazon (US) | Amazon (AU)

Author Bio:

Fahad Ben. G was born and raised in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. He has a Bachelors Degree in English Language Translation from the College of Languages and Translation at King Said University, and a Masters in English Linguistics from Imam Mohammed Bin Said University. Having lived in France and Japan, he finally settled in London in 2017 where he now works in the diplomatic sector.

#BlogTour | #ExcerptReveal | WAVES BREAK (ON UNKNOWN SHORES) by Barry Litherland @BWLitherland (August 16th 2019) @Lovebookstours


Past events cast shadows you can’t outrun. Wayne and Phil knew that better than anyone, after Stevie died, way back when they were children. A pebble dropped in a pool. Ripples spreading outwards. Who knew where they would end? 

Extract Reveal:

If I’d seen Tyrone before he saw me, I’d have cut down a side street, turned and fled. I’d have barged into a store selling women’s lingerie or slipped into a sex shop – anything to avoid passing close enough for him to recognise me. But I don’t see him. He sees me, and having seen me, he walks straight over.

It’s late afternoon and I’m in the concourse in the town centre, a street away from the promenade. There are hundreds of tourists milling about, many of them freshly arrived. A few gulls wheel overhead, waiting for scraps. There’ll be plenty of those. Even from here, I can smell the burger joints and the fish and chip shops which line the seafront.

It’s Sunday afternoon. I’m on my way to a football match with a couple of friends. Tyrone doesn’t stand on ceremony. He takes me by the elbow and pulls me away. My friends turn, at first surprised, then ready to wade in to help me. Tyrone turns towards them.

‘You really want to?’ he snarls.

‘It’s okay,’ I say quickly, before things get out of hand. No point in littering the neat herringbone paving with blood and bodies. ‘I’ll catch you up.’

Only I don’t catch them up, and I don’t see the match. I’m on a chair in a dull, dimly lit cellar bar opposite Tyrone and two other men who don’t look like they’re here for social chit chat. One of them sits impassively with his arms folded like an eighteen stone, muscle bound, malignant Buddha, and, having fixed me with his eyes, he leaves me wriggling there like a butterfly on a pin.

The other is so smooth he could slide under a door; he’s in his mid-fifties, has dark hair, dark eyes, a dark suit, dark shoes, and a dark mood. It’s the mood that scares me most. That and the knife.

The knife lies on the table between us. The blade is long and only about five centimetres wide at the hilt. The grip is unadorned steel. There’s nothing fancy about it, but there doesn’t need to be. It has a cold, functional look about it that isn’t at all reminiscent a kitchen implement. No, this is completely different.

Author Bio:

Barry Litherland is an author living and working in the far north of Scotland, not far from John O’Groats. He writes in a variety of genres but has achieved greatest success with his recent crime and paranormal crime thrillers, Waves Break on Unknown Shores, The Hand of Ronan Hawke and Turbulence. He is an avid reader and loves classical novels, modern literary fiction and self-published books. When he’s not writing or reading, he likes photography, at an amateur level, cycling, and walking the mountains and coastlines of the Northern Highlands. Some of his photographs are shared on his website bleaknorth.net.

After a successful and rewarding career in primary education, he now considers writing his new vocation, and writes a new book each year. He has two new novels awaiting proofreading prior to publication and – a new venture – two Middle Grade children’s novels (for 8-12 year olds.)

He is married to Susie, has three children, a grandson, Harry, and two springer spaniels, Ziggy and Daisy. 

You can buy Waves Break (On Unknown Shore) from the following booksellers (and obviously many more! Support your local booksellers where you can!)

Amazon (UK) | Amazon (US) | Amazon (AU)

#CoverReveal | #ExcerptReveal | WE ARE US by Tara Leigh @TaraLeighBooks (February 27th 2020) @jennw23

We Are Us - CR banner

We Are Us, an all-new, angst-filled, second chance standalone romance from Tara Leigh is releasing February 27th, and we have the gorgeous cover along with the very first sneak peek!

We Are Us_TaraL_FINAL-ebooklg

I fell in love with a beautiful, broken boy.

His whispered words of love were the sweetest of lies.

He gave me his heart and destroyed mine.

I am his.

I fell in love with the beautiful man who broke me.

His boldly spoken vow was the cruelest of cages.

He gave me his name and destroyed my soul.

He is mine.

The boy I once loved is now a man.

The man I once loved is now gone.

We are us.

I have been called many things.

Victim. Survivor. Daughter. Sister. Wife.

Now I am called something else.


Believe it or not, this is our love story.

We Are Us - PO

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/36tpLQg

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/WeAreUs

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Enter the giveaway to win a signed paperback of We Are Us AND a mystery signed paperback from Tara Leigh: http://bit.ly/WeAreUsCRGiveaway

Cover Designed by Regina Wamba, Mae I Design



“Close your eyes.” I slant a curious look at Gavin, taking in his kiss-swollen lips and flushed skin, his untamable mop of hair and the blaze of excitement lighting up the blue of his corneas. Gavin squeezes my hand reassuringly as I do what he’s asked, then slowly walks me the remaining few steps toward our cave. Without vision, my other senses are heightened. The cry of birds sounds closer, like they are perched just overhead instead of on branches thirty or forty feet above. The bite of the breeze on my skin is sharper, each gust sending a chill racing along already sensitive nerve endings. The smell of ripe earth and rich evergreen and the clean, bracing scent of Gavin himself is downright intoxicating, my head swimming as I pull breaths deep into my lungs. Most of all, the moonstone pendant laying against my collarbone is making my chest tingle, my heart fluttering against my ribcage. “Okay, open them.” I do, immediately gasping in surprise at what Gavin’s done to our little cave. There are candles burning and scattered rose petals—no, poppy petals—and a basket filled with drinks and snacks. A pile of blankets and pillows. “You did all this for me?” I ask, my voice sounding whispery and weird. I feel whispery and weird. I’ve never had a birthday like this. I’ve never even imagined a birthday like this. First the necklace and now, seeing the lengths Gavin has gone for me… Beneath the surface of my skin, I’m a chaotic mess of emotions. I don’t know what to say, how to act. This is unchartered territory for me. “Of course,” he says, as if it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing. It’s everything. Before I dissolve into a teary puddle, Gavin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a deck of cards. “You taught me how to play gin rummy—how about I teach you to play poker?” A strangled laugh leaves my throat. “I think that’s fair.” We sit down and Gavin spends a few minutes going over the basics of the game before dealing out the cards. It’s not as easy as gin rummy, but I get the hang of it after a few rounds. And when Gavin lifts a mischievous brow and asks, “Want to make things interesting?” I know exactly what he’s doing. Not just poker. Strip poker. And that’s when I realize just how much planning went into tonight. Beyond buying me an expensive present. Beyond pimping out our cave. Gavin found a way to make my first time—our first time—a mix of old and new. An experience evoking our past and celebrating our future. I’ve imagined the night Gavin and I would finally go all the way a million times. But I’d only focused on the physical aspects. Would it hurt? Will there be blood? What if I do it wrong? It never crossed my mind that he would take such care with… everything. But, of course, it should have. Gavin Cross is one of a kind. And he’s mine.


About Tara Leigh

Tara Leigh is a multi-published author of steamy contemporary romance. To keep in touch, click here! http://bit.ly/TaraLeighNwsltr. A former banker on Wall Street, she graduated from Washington University and holds an MBA from Columbia Business School, but she much prefers spending her days with fictional boyfriends than analyzing financial spreadsheets. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children, and fur-baby, Pixie.

Connect with Tara

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2QIUpP9

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The little hacker stole from the Family–hundred fifty grand. 

We Tacones don’t take kindly to thieves.

Not even when they come in a package as cute as hers.

Not even after she shows me how high her freak flag flies.

Now there will be hell to pay for my sexy geek.

And I’m the one coming to collect.

But when she ends up in jail for the transaction I ordered her to make

I decide to bail her out. Because she’s a wildfire.

A force of nature too bright to be put out.

And I don’t need the money. 

I’d rather have her.

Why I write Mafia

If you’re reading my newsletter, I guarantee you already know I’m kinked. I love a dominant hero who gets bossy, spanky and dirty. I like non-consent, at least at first. Abduction-seduction is my favorite trope. So writing mafia romance fits perfectly with that. And even as sweet as I can write an alpha male, I also freaking love dub-con.

“What if I cheat?”

His brows slam down. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Clearly the wrong thing to ask.

But I want to know. He says he won’t hurt me but he’s a dangerous man. What happens if I cross a line? What are those lines?

“I won’t—I don’t either,” I assure him quickly. I grab his arm. “I promise. It’s just—”

“What?” He’s still pissed. That shouldn’t excite me. I am wired so wrong.

Because I’m tipsy, I lightly slap his chest. “You kidnapped me and threatened my brother’s life! I just need to know what happens if I piss you off.”

Anger ripples over Paolo’s expression and he steps back and scrubs a hand over this face. Then he shakes his head. “No more of this,” he says.

I shake my head. I’m already getting queasy. “You can’t tell me no more.”

Of course he can. He just did. And that’s exactly the point I’m testing here. I’m with a dangerous, controlling man.

He throws his hands in the air in that distinctly Italian way. “What do you want from me?”

“What if I ran away?”

“You gonna run?”

“No, but what if I did? What’s the line?”

Exasperation dances over his face and he narrows his eyes, but I can tell he’s thinking about his answer. “Okay, where’s the line?” He catches my chin and lifts it to bring our faces close. “If it’s business, I’m gonna deal with you in a business-like fashion. You steal from the casino, you threaten my family, talk to the Feds, we’re done and the gloves come off. If it’s personal, I’m not a douche. You break my heart, there’s no retribution. That plain enough for you?”

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR RENEE ROSE loves a dominant, dirty-talking alpha hero! She’s sold over a half million copies of steamy romance with varying levels of kink. Her books have been featured in USA Today’s Happily Ever After and Popsugar. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won Spunky and Sassy’s Favorite Sci-Fi and Anthology author, The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews’ Best Sci-fi, Paranormal, Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite couple and author. She’s hit the USA Today list five times with various anthologies.

#ReleaseBlitz | #ExcerptReveal | WARM ME SOFTLY by D M Davis @dmdavisauthor (December 11th 2019) @GiveMeBooksPR

Title: Warm Me Softly
A Holiday Novella
Author: D.M. Davis
Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 11, 2019


I thought he wanted my inheritance. Turns out, he wanted me.

Maggie is a lonely shop keeper who loves her memories, living her life for the ones she’s lost. She’s torn between holding on to the past or selling off her inheritance for a chance to discover her passion.

Marcus is a real estate developer who’s been after Maggie’s properties for years. Somewhere along the way his desire to buy her out morphed into the need to win her heart.

This Christmas novella of loss, remembrance, and transformation will warm your heart for the holidays and all year through.

Note to Reader: The Warm Me Softly novella originally appeared in the Winter’s Edge Anthology (Nov 2017). This version is intended for mature audiences as it’s been revamped with new and updated scenes, making it a Steamy Romance.

Purchase Links

Only 99c!


Free in Kindle Unlimited


Closing my eyes, I take a bite and savor the crisp crust and warm, soft center. There’s nothing better than fresh-baked bread. It reminds me of home and being in the kitchen with my grandmomma.
I open my eyes to find him watching me, his gaze intense with newfound heat. “Good?” His brows arch and amusement curves his lips.
Ignoring the throb between my legs, I take another bite, not stopping until I’ve finished.
Harry returns with our drinks, advising our food will be out momentarily. I guess Marcus is joining me for dinner. I didn’t necessarily agree, but it seems too late to turn him away now.
Marcus butters more bread for himself and then for me. “I never meant to make an enemy of you, or your grandmother.” His voice is gentle, soothing my frayed nerves. “On the contrary, I’ve always hoped we could be more.”
“More? You’re trying to buy my building, take my grandparents’ antique store from me. That’s my home, my job. It’s… everything. What more could you possibly want, a kidney?” My voice having reached a volume I don’t care for, I ease back, taking a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
Composed, I continue. “Can we not do this today?”
I’m interrupted by Harry with our meal. He sets down two steaming bowls of Thai noodle soup and another basket of fresh bread.
“Enjoy.” He bows as he backs away.
“Thanks, Harry,” we say simultaneously.
My gaze flies to Marcus. He knows Harry’s name? I pegged Marcus as being too self-important to bother learning his name—or anyone else who serves him. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t know who Marcus is.
Marcus smiles and points to my soup. “Shrimp bowl?”
“It’s my favorite.” I note he’s having the same.
“Me too.” He cocks his head. “See, we have something in common. I bet if you got to know me, you’d see we share more than just a love of Thai shrimp noodle soup.”
More? Somehow, I doubt that. I have nothing in common with this man. I can’t deny I’m attracted to him, but his rugged good looks, finger-tousled dark hair, and tall, muscular build cannot compensate for the truth of what he wants.
“Why not today?” Reading my perplexed expression, he clarifies. “I said I’d hoped we could be more, and you said I was taking everything from you, then you asked if we could not do this today.”
“Oh, yes. That.” I stir my soup and take a tentative sip. It’s good and hot, liquid gold. I fish around, playing with the noodles. “I’d just rather not fight today. That’s all.”
He leans closer. “I’d rather not fight with you any day. But, why not today in particular?” He’s a determined SOB.
I study my bowl like it’s the most interesting thing in the room—which would be a lie. The man across from me clearly holds that title. The heat of his gaze burrows into my brain.
I can’t say it out loud. I can’t bear the pity I might see on his face if I were to look up. I shake my head, taking another sip of soup and then a long drink of water, blinking back my tears.
“It’s a year today,” he says with reverence.
Smart man. I guess he is paying attention.

Author Bio

D.M. Davis is a Contemporary and New Adult Romance Author.

She is a Texas native, wife, and mother. Her background is Project Management, technical writing, and application development. D.M. has been a lifelong reader, and wrote poetry in her early life, but has found her true passion in writing about love and the intricate relationships between men and women.

She writes of broken hearts and second chances, of dreamers looking for more than they have and daring to reach for it.

D.M. believes it is never too late to make a change in your own life, to become the person you always wanted to be, but were afraid you were not worth the effort. You are worth it. Take a chance on you. You never know what’s possible if you don’t try. Believe in yourself as you believe in others, and see what life has to offer.

She is currently working on two series of romance novels: Until You and Finding Grace.

Author Links

#ExcerptReveal | SLEEPER by Kayley Loring (DECEMBER 12TH 2019) @ARDENTPROSE


Went to bed at: Late.

How long it took to fall asleep: Forever. I have insomnia. Duh.

Number of caffeinated beverages you had consumed: Zero. Thanks for advising me to quit!

My stress level is off the charts.

I can’t sleep right on a normal day, and lately my days are filled with the best kind of chaos.

My ex-wife and husband number two are filming in Poland for three months,

so I’m turning down movie parts to focus on the most important role of my life—

impossibly charming and somewhat capable young single dad.

My son won’t stop asking questions.​

My daughter won’t brush her teeth unless I sing her showtunes.

Our regular nanny quit.

The only person I could trust to hire as a temp nanny is my best friend’s sister.

If Mary Poppins and Bill Murray had a baby it would be Willa.

Fresh out of grad school and beautifully weird.

She hates my movies, and my kids adore her.

I couldn’t sleep last night because she wasn’t here.

Turns out I can’t sleep unless she’s in my house now.

Turns out she’s what’s been missing from my life all along.

If my friend had any idea what I want to do to his gorgeous troublemaker of a sister,

he would smother me with a pillow.

The chances of us succeeding as a couple are about as good as that little indie movie

that I made being a huge hit.

But it’s a chance I’m going to take.

Shane and I just stare at each other for a few seconds and then laugh.

“You wanna go ‘get a green juice or something’ too? I can sit here and drink coffee by myself. It’s fine.”

“I don’t think green juice is what I need right now.”

“Oh yeah? What do you need?”

“A three-day nap.”

“Have you always had insomnia?”

He shrugs. “Off and on since…since right before I got married, actually.” He says it as if he’s just realizing this now.


“And you need a nanny now because…”

“Because the regular nanny quit on Friday, so I have the kids while Margo and her husband are shooting a movie in Poland for a few months. I’m taking time off from work so I can be with the kids, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a good night’s sleep, I can barely function. The weekend was okay, but I almost didn’t get them to school on time today.”

Poor guy. This is a man who’s led a charmed life. He’s not used to feeling overwhelmed and out of sorts. I look down at his hands, both of them holding on to his cup of decaf coffee.

He needs so much more than caffeine to wake him up right now.

“Have you ever had your palm read before?”

He quirks a brow at me. “No. Have you?”

“Yes. By a woman in Versailles.” She told me that I met the love of my life before I was in high school. “I’m pretty sure everything she said was a crock of shit, but she was very charming and convincing.”

I can’t tell from his expression if he’s a cynic or not.

“Let me see your right hand.” I hold out both of my hands, palms up.

“Wait a minute,” he says, smirking and cocking his head to one side. “Are you the charming and convincing crock-of-shit palm reader from Versailles?”

“The grandmother of the family I boarded with taught me a few tricks.” I beckon him with the fingers of my outstretched hands.

He pushes his coffee aside and stretches his hand across the table without hesitation. Surprising. I take his hand in mine and examine the shape of it. I am fully aware that this would play out very differently if we were at a bar instead of a supermarket and if my brother were half a world away instead of at some counter inside the store, chatting up a hot chick. I am also aware that the last thing I should be doing is pulling out the party trick I’ve employed to flirt with guys who are either too pretty or too shy to make the first move. But I guess this is what’s happening.

His hand.

Oh Lord, his hand.

The texture of his skin is not quite rough and not exactly smooth. It feels good. “You’re down-to-earth, but you’re also sensitive.”

“Am I?”

I turn his hand over to press my thumbs into his palm. It’s firm and resilient. “You’re very practical and hard-working.”

“And you’re still kinda weird, huh?”

“Am I?”

His skin has a pinkish hue. I bet his penis is really pretty. “Well, the lack of sleep isn’t affecting your overall health. That’s good.” He’s loving and supportive. Margo Quincey is a fucking idiot for letting this guy go. “Oh, you have a square palm.”

“What does that mean? I’m good at opening square jars?”

“It confirms that you have good energy and you’re a hard-worker. You don’t mind a challenge.” His long fingers are capable and sexy, and I want them on my body. Shit. “You’re responsible and you finish what you start.” I want these fingers inside me. Fuck. “This is your heart line,” I say, tracing the major line across the top of his palm with my fingertip. It’s long and strong. I want to see him wrap this hand around his cock, and I want him to ram that cock into me. He could really give it to me good. Goddammit, what is wrong with me? “This tells me something about your emotional life.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it telling you?”

His heart line is curved. Shit, it’s really curved. Sex is very important to this man. “I, uhhh…That’s about the extent of my palm-reading abilities. Sorry.”

He pulls his beautiful hand away to rake it through his amazing hair. “Well, I learned a lot about myself, thanks.”

I place my hands at the edge of the table in front of me and push myself against the back of my chair. This is a passionate man who will stop at nothing to make a woman come, and I can’t be that woman and I need to shift gears. “So, are you doing an ad for hair products later today or what?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

“Like this?” He points to his perfectly tousled hair. “I literally wake up with awesome hair every day. I couldn’t make it look bad if I tried.”

“That’s kind of annoying.”

“I know, but to be fair, it’s my only annoying quality.”

“Unless one considers the inability to select a decent movie to star in a quality.” Shit. Too far. I’m going too far in the other direction.

And yet, he seems totally unoffended.

“Once again, to be fair, that’s just my inability to fire my agents for encouraging me to do those mainstream movies that pay me millions of dollars so I can feed my children.”

“And you couldn’t possibly feed your children with money earned from films that don’t star former wrestlers? I’m curious—do you even read the scripts before you agree to make these movies?” Oh my God, Willa, he’s a nice dad who is exhausted and he really needs your help. Don’t be a dick.

Where’s my idiot brother?

I need to shift gears again.

And Shane Miller needs to stop staring at my mouth or I’m going to fling myself across this table and never stop kissing him.

Before writing steamy romantic comedy novels, Kayley Loring had a fifteen-year career as a screenwriter in Los Angeles (under a different name). She mostly wrote PG-13 family comedies that studios would pay her lots of money for and then never make into movies. In 2017 she decided to move to the Pacific Northwest and write about all the fun stuff that she wasn’t allowed to write about in those PG-13 scripts. Now she’s breathing cleaner air and writing dirtier words. It’s an adjustment she’s happily getting used to.

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#ExcerptReveal | BREAKING THE CHAINS by Janine Infante Bosco @JANINEBOSCO (DECEMBER 9TH 2019) @LWOODSPR

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Breaking The Chains by Janine Infante Bosco! It releases December 9th!!!

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One way or another, all men pay for their crimes. Some do their time locked in a cage, while others meet their due karma without a judge or a jury. My debt to society is almost paid, and soon I’ll be free to get my son the justice he deserves. Justice he wouldn’t be due if only I had done my job as his father and protected him. There’s just one hitch, and her name is Charlotte. The gorgeous and completely inexperienced paralegal’s mission seems to be making me a law-abiding citizen and not a vengeful son of a bitch. But underneath her prim and proper facade, there is a woman begging to be unleashed. If I wasn’t so hellbent on breaking the chains of pain bound to my boy, I’d be tempted to unravel Charlotte and show her what it’s like to ditch the law and walk on the wild side. And there’s no time for me to succumb to her efforts to make me a decent man. I’ve agreed to prospect for the Satan’s Knights MC, and my pretty little paralegal is about to learn there ain’t nothing noble about a man who sells his soul to the Devil in the name of revenge. *Editorial note: Breaking The Chains is the second book in the Satan’s Knights Prospect Trilogy. Fan’s of Janine’s Blackout Duet will immediately recognize Bishop, but all readers can enjoy this novel as a steamy, suspenseful standalone.*


Hearts are big but they’re also made of glass. “Why are you doing this?” “What do you mean?” “I answered your question, now answer mine. Why are you here, Peaches?” “Why do you call me that?” she fires back. “I’ll tell you why when you answer me. You’re not dressed in your lawyer duds, so I’m going to assume Schwartz didn’t send you. In fact, I know he didn’t because he told me to call the office for an update—something I forgot to do because I was….” I let my words trail as my eyes wander back to her tits. “…preoccupied with other thoughts.” Those cheeks of hers go pink and my dick stirs. Just one fucking second. One motherfucking second is all I need to imagine all the ways I can get her to blush. “You’re right, I came on my own free will,” she whispers. “Good girl,” I praise as her nipples pebble against the thin cotton t-shirt. One fucking second. “Now, tell me why,” I demand, reluctantly tearing my eyes away from her glorious rack. The view is just as fucking daunting up top and sends the blood rushing to my dick just as fucking fast. Her lips part and a breath escapes them. It takes everything in me to refrain from demanding she opens them wider. “Tell me,” I say instead. She swallows hard. That neck. I want to taste it. Fucking brand it is what I want to do. “I didn’t come here for this…” she says, clearly flustered and moves to push back her chair. Reaching across the table, I close a hand around her wrist. Fuck it. Let them send me to the hole. I’ll take the punishment for one second of Charlotte. “My father was in prison,” she blurts and as soon as she does, she presses her free hand over her mouth. I snatch my own hand away from hers and lean back against the chair absorbing the revelation. My mind flashes back to the first visit and the way she spewed those facts about touching visitors to the guard. At the time I figured it was some shit she studied. “He died there,” she continues, dropping her hand away from her mouth as she lifts her gaze to me. The flush covering her cheeks deepens but it’s anger that puts it there this time. “So, yes, I came here on my day off to see you and I’m very well aware that I’ve probably thrown myself into this case for all the wrong reasons. Helping you won’t bring back my dad, but Connor deserves his even if he’s a incorrigible asshole.” “Smaller words, Peaches, all I got out of that is you think I’m an asshole.” “How’s this? Fuck you. Do you need me to translate those two words?” “Now, you’re speaking my language,” I reply, cocking my head to the side as she rises from her chair. Huffing out a breath, she mutters something as she roughly gathers her belongings from the table. “Why are you leaving?” Her eyes snap to mine and she stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “You’re kidding me, right?” I shrug my shoulders in response. “Schwartz is going to get you out of here,” she says, bracing her hands on the edge of the table as she leans over it. God, she’s fucking adorable when she’s pissed. Adorable and completely fuckable. I bet she likes it rough. I also bet she doesn’t know she likes it rough. The girls probably never been properly fucked. “It’d be wise of you to pull your shit together, Bishop. Everyone is setting the stage for you to reunite with that sweet boy because we believe every child deserves to know they’re loved. You may be a jerk, but you love your kid. I can see that in those cold eyes of yours and he needs to feel that love. He needs to know he counts. Don’t let him down—” Her sermon sobers me, and I quickly cut her off. “I won’t,” I interject. “Don’t think for one second I’m not grateful—” “Well, you sure as hell have a funny way of showing it.” I shrug again. “It’s the asshole in me.” “Yeah, well maybe that’s something you should work on.” Nodding, I swipe the photos from the table. “Thank you for these.” “You’re welcome,” she mutters, pushing in her chair. “Can I still call you next Saturday?” Shoving the envelope under her arm, she rolls her eyes and sighs. “Yes, but I’m doing this for Connor, Bishop, not you. If Schwartz finds out—” “He won’t,” I interrupt. “And thank you for putting Connor first.” “Try it some time,” she says. I can tell she regrets the harsh reply because she closes her eyes as soon as she says it. “I’m sorry, that was mean.” “You’re just being honest,” I tell her. “He’s a great kid,” she continues. “And for what it’s worth, the family who has taken him in are very nice. They’re trying their best to make him feel at home.” I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m glad he’s safe and out of Pete’s hands, but home isn’t there. I don’t know where it is, but I know it’s not there. “I’ve got to go,” Charlotte says as she steps around the table. I probably should apologize, maybe even thank her again. I do neither and instead, I let her walk away, but not without indulging myself with another glance at her ass. “Peaches,” I call and she pauses. Turning around, she struts back to the table and props her hand on her hip. “Unless you’re going to tell me why you call me that, we have nothing else to say to one another.” “Perfect as a peach.” “What?” “Your ass, Charlotte, it reminds me of a peach. Perfectly ripe and oh so fucking round. There ain’t ever been a peach I didn’t want to sink my teeth into,” I say pointedly as I lean closer. “The first bite is always a little tough but once you get closer to the core…mmmm so fucking sweet. The juice drips from your lips and you fiend for more.” She gasps and I grin, rising from my chair. With my photos tucked safely against my chest, I nod for the guard to escort me back to my cell. As he starts for me, I look back at Charlotte. One more second. Just one more fucking second.

About Janine

Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

Find Janine Online Amazon → https://amzn.to/2GPQxHS BookBub → http://bit.ly/2XYCjuR Facebook → http://bit.ly/2WQaEj2 Goodreads → http://bit.ly/2WU2AxI Instagram → http://bit.ly/2Y0UArg Pinterest → http://bit.ly/2ZEEnZr Twitter → http://bit.ly/2x26DJ4 Website → https://www.janineinfantebosco.com

#ReleaseBlitz | #ExcerptReveal | #Giveaway| BLINDSIDED by Amy Daws @AMYDAWSAUTHOR (November 21st 2019)

Blindsided by Amy Daws is LIVE!

Read Now in Kindle Unlimited: https://geni.us/Blindsided


What happens when an almost thirty-year-old virgin agrees to let her Scottish footballer best friend give her some lessons in seduction?

Lots of banter, awkwardness, jealousy, and heat.

Midfielder Maclay “Mac” Logan is a loud-mouthed, tattooed ginger content with focusing on football. But when an adorably-freckled seamstress comes barreling into his life, he finds Netflix-And-Bickering with her to be his new favorite pastime.

Freya Cook is used to being the invisible woman with a needle and thread, offering cheeky punchlines as she helps dress London’s finest. She’s plus-sized in body and spirit, and other than her friendship with Mac, talking to the opposite sex is one skill she never mastered.

However, after one innocent game of Never Have I Ever, Mac offers to play Love Coach for Freya.

What neither of them see coming are the feelings that develop when the clothes come off.

Now they’re both about to learn the biggest lesson of all: Don’t fall in love with your best friend.


Enter for a chance to win a signed paperback over on Amy’s Facebook Page!



With a heavy sigh, I drop down on the bed beside her, shaking my head and staring at the floor. “The kiss couldn’t have been that bad.” 

“It was,” she mumbles defeatedly. 

“There’s no way,” I argue, glancing at her lips. “You have nice lips. Perfect for kissing.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she replies, her lower lip quivering slightly. “I am incapable of using them. I’m a wanker.”

“You’re not a wanker.” 

“I’m a lip wanker.” 

“How do you know he’s not the lip wanker?” I ask with a gruff reply. “Maybe you just didn’t have the right partner. Any man with a cheese hut doesn’t sound like he’s kissing a lot of burds.” 

She turns a flat look at me. “I promise you, Mac. Even if I had the right partner, I would be crap.” 

Now I’m getting angry. “Prove it.” 


Amy Daws is an Amazon Top 25 bestselling author of sexy, contemporary romance novels. She enjoys writing love stories that take place in America, as well as across the pond in England. When Amy is not writing in a tire shop waiting room, she’s watching Gilmore Girls, or singing karaoke in the living room with her daughter while Daddy smiles awkwardly from a distance. 
For more of Amy’s work, visit: http://www.amydawsauthor.com


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