#BlogTour | #Excerpt | TWISTED BEAUTY by Kristen Flood @KristenFlood01 @LoveBooksGroup #lovebookstours

Hello and welcome to our stop on the Twisted Beauty blog tour! Please scroll down for an excerpt.





Once the powerful prince of Renol, William is a shell of the man he once was. Living under the curse of a powerful witch, William has spent 100 years making deals on her behalf and mourning the loss of his first love.


Belle has spent her life confined within the limits of her city, Paylor, and is now bound to a man she does not love. When she dares to venture outside the city’s gates in search of something she’s lost, she finds more than she ever expected.

As Belle and William embark on a journey of love and mourning, passion and forgiveness, they discover that sometimes what we lose isn’t as important as what we find. 

This book is recommended for mature audiences and features adult content such as sex, language, and violence. If you are into that kind of thing, dive on in. 😉


100 years later

Belle kept her head down as she moved through the busy market street. She took it all in: the smell of the bread, the simmer of chatter, and the freedom of the cool morning air on her skin. She mustn’t get caught.

She clenched her fists. What if she did get caught? No. She couldn’t think that way. No one would recognize her. She wore a earthly red peasant skirt, the fringes touching her ankles, her belly exposed beneath a loose cream top. Her long brown hair was left down to blow in the wind, and the red scarf tied in a band over her head was the perfect touch. She looked positively ordinary.

Once she reached the gates, she stopped and observed the posted guards. She did not dare approach and instead turned down a small alleyway. Her ruby lips betrayed a thin smile as she moved towards the boarded-up wall that surrounded her village.

“It must be fate,” she said to herself as she hurriedly moved to inspect the thin pieces of wood. A rusted nail stuck up from a weak board. The nail, was loose and she easily removed it. The wood fell with a thud to the cobbled ground, and she double-checked that no one had noticed. The alleyway was empty, and after a quick breath, she faced the wall that now had a large hole in it. Without a second thought, she pushed herself through the hole and towards freedom.

Freedom was a lot more crowded that she had anticipated. Her body was now stuck between a tree and the edges of the wall. Keeping herself pressed against the wall, she sidestepped around the blockage. She couldn’t help but look up into the canopy of green that now surrounded her. 

Author Bio:

Kristen Flood is an Adult Romance and YA science fiction author and poet. At twenty-two, Kristen published her first book, The Museum: A Collection of Dark Poetry. Since she has released two more books. Her third book, Twisted Beauty, is awaiting its sequel this Winter. Kristen lives in Missouri with her husband, son, and newborn baby girl. When she’s not writing or chasing her toddler she spends her time playing board games, sword fighting and planning her next adventure. Kristen plans to release two more books in 2021.

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

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

#BlogTour | #Excerpt | THE SAME LEDGE by Daniel James @danjameswriting @LoveBooksGroup #lovebookstours

Hello and welcome to our stop on The Same Ledge blog tour! Please scroll down for an excerpt.


Behind the postcard imagery of London, the darkest parts of the city house some of the saddest stories.

When Michael met Cameron, they were two boys who shared a bond and a ledge, an escape from their turbulent and violent home lives. But when Michael leaves, their lives drift apart into dramatically different directions until the events of the past bring them back together. They are no longer boys, but the ledge remains. Can they save themselves? Can they save one another?

This raw debut from Daniel James is a literary fiction that delves into fragile friendships, social inequality and mental health.


It was September first. They had spent much of the day putting things into boxes. The room he had spent his childhood in was desolate; just walls and a carpet. They had outgrown the two-storey terrace house, lost in a network of streets behind the main jugular of Battersea. The street was quiet as it always was on a weekend, it is smattering of low-income families muted somehow, its portion of the south London aged shuffling between their smoky homes and the corner shop. London was divided between the rich and the poor and what started as a means to reduce the number of slums in London became a means to fortify them with bricks. Streets of poorly kept and poorly maintained houses slept in the back streets of the country’s capital, out of sight and out of mind. The estates of terrace houses or large ugly tower blocks boasted their own facilities, almost as if there was a need to reduce the risk of the residents slipping out of the shadow of their homes and wandering into the streets of London proper. The spaces were equipped with schools, grocery shops and laundrettes; critical organs to the heartbeat of the estate. Communication posts for the elderly and lifebuoys for the families that found navigating through London almost as expensive as living there.

In the estate, a small parade of shops set back from the pavement containing a newsagent, the laundrette and a bakery. The newsagent’s carpets were black with age and the strain of shuffling slippers but, for the kids here, it was a paradise. The shop counter was stacked high with penny sweets brightly shimmering. He would run side by side with his brother from their house two streets over. Their sweaty fists grasped twenty or fifty pence coins, money from the tooth fairy or a birthday exchanged for a set of stickers, a fluorescent toy or a handful of sweets wrapped snugly in their paper bag with the top rolled over.

Now he stood in a new room in a new house no more than ten minutes driving from the old. These houses were managed by a trust that was responsible for the maintenance. It had been almost eight years since his sister was born and five years since their mum had applied for a bigger home for the six of them. He would still share his life and room with his older brother.

The house stood on a cul-de-sac under the shadow of a tower block in the council estate. Council estates seemed to be darker places than housing estates. The parade of shops was buried under the mass of the tower block with a web of underground passages that fell completely dark at night. A home to the poorest, those most in need and those willing to take everything from you at knifepoint. This place was different. Opposite there was a patch of grass almost the size of a football pitch. The edges were lined with tall trees; from the highest windows of the house you could imagine you were looking over a park. There was a sign with ‘NO BALL GAMES’ clipped to the lamp posts and below that a black-and-white image of a dog squatting down with the words ‘NO FOULING’ written beneath him. Despite this there was usually a group of kids kicking a ball between each other, no more than ten years old. ‘NO FOULING’ would become an ongoing joke as they played. The edge of the green was home to a small playground, fenced with black iron bars, a ramshackle collection of bushes squeezed between even more iron bars. Balconies overlooked the grass with washing hanging to dry. It gave the impression of a community. Here, at least, was the illusion of safety.

Author Bio:

Daniel James is a London born writer residing in Toronto at the release of his debut novel. Daniel draws upon his own life experiences as a Londoner to create a descriptive account of life in the city, exploring issues of inequality and the pressures on the human spirit blended naturally into one story.

Daniel uses modern-day themes and explores complex issues that revolve around mental health, relationships and societal class, issues that have impacted his life in one way or another. The need to captivate and highlight these themes are the inspiration behind his writing. He hopes you connect and enjoy the story in your own way.

Twitter: @danjameswriting

Instagram: @daniel_james_writing

Email: danjameswriting@gmail.com

Facebook: Daniel-James-Writing

You can buy The Same Ledge from the following booksellers (and obviously many more! Support your local booksellers where you can!)

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

#ExcerptReveal | CUTTERS CLAIM by Monique Moreau (September 22nd 2020) @LWoodsPR

🔥 HIGH HEAT WARNING! 🔥 Keep reading for an excerpt from Cutter’s Claim by Monique Moreau. It arrives on September 22nd!

Add it to your TBR: https://bit.ly/2Eov76N

Follow Monique for alerts: https://bit.ly/3gNvrsU

#excerpt #excerptshare #excerptreveal #comingsoon #mcromance #motorcycleromance #bikerromance #badboyromance #romancenovels #romancebooks #steamyreads #bookbuzz


Who needs more than bikes and willing women? Not Cutter. Until he meets Greta, a former biker princess who turned her back on club life. She challenges him every step of the way, and Cutter doesn’t tolerate disobedience.

Greta lives by one rule: No Bikers. She didn’t escape her father’s MC and build a new life for herself just to be brought down by a dirty biker. Not even hot, domineering Cutter could change her mind.

Cutter is ready to play dirty. In their battle of wills, he begins to master her deepest desires. Can she find the inner strength to submit to him? Meanwhile, a danger from the past lurks in the shadows—ready to pounce.

Cutter’s Claim is a steamy, standalone bad boy biker romance with plenty of heat.

Looking to ride in the fast lane? Rev it up with one click.


Beads of sweat slid off the woman’s flanks and drenched the bedsheets. Cutter rolled off her, floating on the high of a good fuck. It had taken the edge off. Tomorrow was the third Saturday of the month. Tommy’s day. Lying beside her, he cast a glance sideways and blew out a gust of frustration. It had been a mistake to fuck her twice.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted them on the carpet. Christ, his balls were gonna freeze off. Late March in Utica did that to a man. He glanced over his shoulder at Mandy, her chin propped on her hand, her eyes following his movements with greed. Her red-dyed hair matched the smear of lipstick around her lurid grin. Rolling onto her belly, she jiggled her pink ass at him. He gave her what she wanted, a sharp slap to each butt cheek.

“More, Cutter, more,” she pleaded.

Of course, she wants more. His rep preceded him wherever he went in the circuit of motorcycle clubs. He was a magnet for a certain kind of woman with a certain desire. It was common for brothers to deal with women wanting to be their old lady or baby mama, but he got it twice as bad. Women knew about a biker named Cutter, and his knack for satisfying a woman’s kink with singular talent. They vied to be one of his “speed-dial bitches.”

“The more you beg, the less you get.”

The energy roaring through his system crashed like a downed Blackhawk. Since Prez got sick, sex left a pile of rubble free-falling into the pit of his stomach. Bracing his arms on the futon, he pushed himself up. Even before Prez, his mind began to wander. He’d switched up his routine, amped up his techniques, but still, he was left worn out. For a man who’d turned thirty a month ago, that was wack.

Buck naked, he disposed of the used condom. He returned from the bathroom, moving around the space and releasing Mandy from the ropes around her wrists. A kiss on the crown of her head and then he gathered his tools. Following a ritual of cleansing, they were returned to their proper places in the drawers. Mandy’s lips drew down into a pout. She crawled toward him as he stood by the plastic drawer storage that doubled as a night table and grabbed his hand. Christ, her antics.

Swiping the underside of her breast, he instructed, “Time to go, babe, I got things to do. Be a good girl and drag your panties over that sweet, blistering ass. Make sure the elastic band scrapes up my marks real good.” He cupped the back of her neck and gave her a bruising kiss before turning his back to her.

In the bathroom, he twisted the lock. Lifting his head to the cracked mirror above the sink, Cutter took a hard look at himself. He scratched the prickly scruff on his jaw. Been a while since he’d shaved. His deep-set eyes made him look rough enough without adding facial hair. He liked to keep things easy. Chill, relaxed, mellow. Those were the words people used to describe him. Except in the bedroom, where he exercised absolute control over women. He was the yang to their yin.

About Monique

Growing up in New York City, I used to walk the hot pavements in the melting heat of the long summers, and dream. Uptown to downtown, Eastside to the Westside, and underground to catch a subway racing out into the boroughs.

During my wanderings, my magic pencil spun out fantasies full of romance, with first meetings, heartbreaks, and reunions. Sometimes my boy crush (unrequited, of course) starred as the hero.

I grew up, and after a stint in art school, became a lawyer ‘cuz a woman’s got to live. I came from parents who fled to France as refugees, and as an attorney, I dedicated my work to helping survivors of trauma and persecution.

I believe in them. In their grit, in their determination to hold on, to pull through and, somehow, someway, to keep themselves, body and soul, intact.

Perhaps that is why I am drawn to writing stories of men and women who live through heart-rending pain, desperate yearnings and, ultimately, a place of redemption.

I, myself, fought the urge to get off the expected, safe path for a long time. Until one day I couldn’t go on unless I took a chance and made a change. I began to write, stopped, and began again … and again until

I gave in to it and here I am.

Come join me on my journey as a debut author.

Find Monique Online! Amazon: https://amzn.to/2QKtJOb BookBub: https://bit.ly/3gNvrsU Facebook: https://bit.ly/3jYl3Br Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3gmIxOa Instagram: https://bit.ly/3gyidB3 Website: https://moniquemoreau.com

#BlogTour | #Excerpt | SIREN SONG by Rebecca McKinney @BexMcKinney @LoveBooksGroup #lovebookstours

Hello and welcome to our stop on the Siren Song blog tour! Please scroll down for an excerpt.


A man who glimpses other people’s inner worlds, and a woman who can foresee death. Can they trace a missing girl before the worst happens?

Harrison Jones is a university lecturer with a secret: he moonlights as a psychic detective. Amy Bell is a paramedic who has the uncanny knack of knowing things are going to happen before they do. From their first accidental meeting on an Edinburgh bridge, both of their lives are destined to change.

Harrison invites Amy to help him investigate the disappearance of a beautiful young singer. The search will lead them into the murky world of human trafficking, from Edinburgh to the streets of Athens, and into the darkest corners of the human mind…


By the time Harrison Jones got to Sandy Bell’s Bar, he realised he didn’t want to be there.

He was tired and crowds could be overwhelming. More than once, he had stumbled out of a busy pub with other peoples’ emotions threatening to split his head wide open. Nevertheless, he had promised to meet his friends, and at the time it had seemed preferable to another long evening by himself.

Harrison was, as his grandmother used to say, sensitive in a very particular way. It ran in the family, she told him before she died, although that didn’t make the condition any easier to bear. It was worse when he spent too much time on his own. He was less able to close out other people’s thoughts, other people’s conflicts, other people’s pain. People who didn’t have to live with it described it as a gift, but most of the time Harrison wished he could switch it off. His inner life was complicated enough without the constant interference from other people, most of whom were strangers.

Before going inside, he closed his eyes, breathed in and out deeply and brought himself as firmly as he could into the physical present.

He turned his face up into the rain.

It had taken him a long time to learn how to close it all out, and his techniques weren’t always fool proof. Background music helped, especially the wordless, repetitive jigs and reels on offer in Bell’s. He pushed into the warm, steamy pub, swept his hair back from his face, took off his glasses, dried them on his jumper and put them back on again. They steamed up immediately so he repeated the performance, wishing he could trade his sixth sense for better eyesight.

Author Bio:

Rebecca McKinney is a writer, therapist and community development practitioner, living and working in Midlothian, Scotland. She shares her home with her husband, two teenagers, three cats, and a growing collection of musical instruments. 

Previous novels:

The Angel in the Stone: shortlisted for the Highland Book Prize, 2017: Sandstone Press

Blast Radius: 2015: Sandstone Press

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

Discounted for the duration of the blog tour to 99p on Amazon!

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

#CoverReveal | #ExcerptReveal | MINE by Brittany Taylor (October 22nd 2020) @GiveMeBooksPR

Title: Mine
Series: Back to Me #2
Author: Brittany Taylor
Genre: Romantic Suspense/Psychological Thriller
Cover Design: Alora Kate
Release Date: October 22, 2020


We were living in a state of ignorant bliss. Ready to move on, ready to heal.

Our plan was working until we found that small slip of paper inside our apartment. A promised message that I would never truly be free. Now, the life I thought I’d have with Logan was quickly becoming no life at all. Cutting ties with everyone I know; Logan and I decided to start a new life, hoping to leave the past behind us, along with that piece of paper.

Three thousand miles and one year later, Logan and I were still struggling with the choices we’d made. The guilt I had for leaving my best friend, Abby remained, devouring me from the inside out. But then, in a twist of fate, Abby came back into my life, offering a chance to mend our broken friendship.

But just like Abby’s unexpected return, the demons from my past quickly began to resurface. Pieces of my past continued to haunt me, forcing me to question whether the life Logan and I had built was real or whether everything wasn’t as it seemed.

My past had returned, determined to prove my life wasn’t truly mine.

It never was.

Pre-order Links



Chapter 1 
The crunching beneath my foot feels like a million bones snapping all at once. 
“Well, shit.” I groan, bending down to pick up the remnants of what was once my phone. The shattered screen and half-broken backing bend across the palm of my hand like a sad, spineless mess. Wiping large clumps of mud and rain from the screen, I foolishly try to turn it back on knowing there’s no possible way it could still work. 
When it doesn’t come back to life, I snap my head up at the sound of a car door closing. Logan’s footsteps pound into the soaking wet asphalt as he steps up onto the curb, stopping in front of me. 
Concerned, he eyes the shattered remains of my phone. “Again, Lena?”, he sighs, cradling my hands in his. Heavy drops of water cover the skin of our joined hands. I look up at him between rain-soaked eyelashes. 
“I know.” A piece of me deflates, knowing I’ve only had this phone for two months. However, the last phone was replaced simply out of necessity and survival than it was pure clumsiness. “I can’t help it,” I say. “I tripped getting out of the car.”  I glance over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes at the exact spot I tripped.  
Logan swipes his thumb along my cheek, pulling my gaze back to him. “Always so clumsy.” 
I laugh. “No. I think it’s just a case of bad luck.”  
We’re standing on the sidewalk outside Logan’s apartment in the center of Providence. Thick, heavy drops of rain continue to pour down on us, soaking us from head to toe. The sound of passing cars, their tires barreling through puddles, echoes behind us. Logan’s touch stirs me, bringing back those all too familiar warm feelings at the bottom of my stomach. His thumb grazing my skin matches the warm water saturating our skin. 
I’m still holding my broken phone in my hand when I raise my other one to his head. I brush my fingers against the freshly cut strands. His chestnut-colored hair now looks black thanks to the thunderstorm brewing above us. The ends are pressed against his forehead, weighed down by the cool water. His hair is cut short and a piece of me deflates, missing the way it used to look, long and unruly. But just like my first replacement phone, Logan cut his hair out of necessity.  
I run my hand down the side of his face then slide it across his waist, wrapping my arm around his sculpted frame. His muscles instinctively retract at my touch and I can’t deny how my stomach flutters knowing I still elicit this kind of reaction out of him. It’s only been a few months since Logan and I have really been together and not a day has passed where I don’t remember how much I love him. I scan his face, my heart fluttering as his mouth turns up into a smile. His jaw is covered in the beginnings of a beard, the scruff hiding the leftover evidence of what his face had endured several months ago. Scars are buried underneath, a constant reminder of how I had nearly lost him.  
Logan wraps his hands around my waist, gripping onto my hips. He pulls me close and the familiar scent of orange tic-tacs fills the moisture-filled air between us. Ever since I met him, he’s been absolutely obsessed with orange tic-tacs. Claims they’re the only ones worth eating. I always thought it more had to do with the fact that he quit smoking just after I met him, and he knew it was the only thing that kept him from picking up the habit again. That and the fact that they were significantly cheaper. 
His eyes search my face. “We should probably get inside. We’re getting soaked.” 
“I don’t care.” I laugh. Thunder rumbles the sky above us and my heart skips a beat, the feeling shooting straight through me. 
“Come on.” Logan laughs, tucking a few loose strands of hair back behind my ears. His fingers stop short when he reaches the ends. As Logan had done, I cut my hair as well. Not too short, but enough for me to be able to feel the absence of the weight it once held. He grabs the shattered remains of my phone and drops them into the grocery bag he’s holding. He wraps his arm around me, urging me to follow him inside to his apartment. “We’ll get you a new phone tomorrow.” 
Logan’s apartment building is tall. It’s one of those apartment buildings that require a security code to get in the front door. One large door remains as the only entrance into the building, its brick exterior acting as a blanket of security. When Logan had recovered enough to be released from the hospital, both of us had decided it would be best for us to stay together, to live together. His recovery was going to be a long process, one that would take up the majority of my time. Neither of us felt safe anymore and as far as we knew, Julian didn’t know where Logan lived. In the time that Logan was recovering in the hospital, I would stay with him as much as I possibly could, or I would stay with my best friend, Abby. I didn’t feel safe returning my apartment, knowing my ex-boyfriend knew where I lived.  
“So, what will it be tonight?” Logan enters the code into the small silver box beside the front door to the building. I follow him as he steps inside. He begins walking backward toward the elevator, lifting the now soggy brown paper bag of groceries. His mouth curls back into that playful smirk. His golden eyes spark and I can feel them consuming me. “Spaghetti or tacos?” 
I twist my face in disgust. Laughing, I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the nineteenth floor. “Spaghetti? Are you really asking me to choose between spaghetti and tacos? Hands down you know I’m choosing tacos.” I reach up, squeezing the excess rainwater from my hair then lean against the wall, eyeing Logan from across the small space between us.  
“I knew it wasn’t a contest. I’m just a sucker for when you twist your face the way you just did. The way your smooth lips twist at the perfect angle. The way your eyebrows slant into those gorgeous light brown eyes of yours.” His eyes gleam despite the dim lights overhead as he slowly says each word. He leans back against the opposite wall, tipping his head back, mimicking my stance and watching me with hooded eyes. He’s happy. I’m happy.  
Pushing off the elevator wall, I walk across the small space, tipping my chin up to meet Logan’s gaze. I press my hips into him, melting into his body. I grasp onto the wet fabric of his shirt with my fingers and run my tongue across my lip, pulling him impossibly closer. “And I’m a sucker for you, Logan Moore.” 
Logan reaches up, wrapping his hand on the back of my head. His movements are quick as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. His fingers thread through my wet hair. He pulls me close, pressing my lips to his. His mouth is warm and wet from the rain. I sigh against his body. His hand slides away from my hair and along my cheek, holding me back just enough for me to see his face. “I want it to be like this forever, Lena.” 
“Me too.”  
Then, as the elevator dings, reaching the nineteenth floor, I will Logan’s words to be true.  I wish I could freeze this moment in time. One where my heart feels like it might burst out of my chest and Logan’s staring at me like he wouldn’t want to ever be looking at another person for the rest of his life. 
I playfully bump my shoulder into his solid, sculpted arm as we step out into the hallway. It’s quiet as it usually is, and I’m thrilled about the prospect of removing my rain-soaked clothes. My cheeks grow sore from grinning as Logan walks ahead of me. My smile immediately fades when I stumble and nearly trip into his, the right side of my body slamming into his. His body is stiff, frozen solid and every part of my body turns cold when I follow his gaze. 
The door to Logan’s apartment is propped open, six inches of black empty space between it and the doorframe. We both don’t immediately walk toward the door. Instead, he reaches his arm out, blocking me from walking further than where he is standing. He’s protecting me, unsure what kind of situation we’re in. 
“Wait here.” Logan whispers. 
“No.” I whisper back. “I’m going with you.” I wrap my hands around his arm, pressing my fingers into his tensed muscle. 
He narrows his gaze toward me for a moment, knowing how stubborn I can be.  
A chill prickles down the back of my neck and a familiar feeling washes over me. Fear pierces its way into my chest. Logan’s heavy boots carefully step onto the carpet as we inch forward, carefully examining what type of situation we’re walking into.  
We’ve been here before. Months ago, I walked into my apartment to find Logan’s Boston Bruins t-shirt shredded to pieces on my bedroom floor and my ex-boyfriend’s tie knotted to the metal post of my bed frame.  
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing myself to believe this isn’t the same. This can’t be Julian. It can’t. 
When we make it to the front door, Logan leans forward and carefully peeks through the opening, before gently nudging the door open with the tip of his boot. The hallway leading to the living room is pitch black and after my eyes have taken a moment to adjust, it doesn’t appear as if anything has been disturbed. But the sight doesn’t bring any sense of relief. It’s Julian’s way. He has a way of letting you know he’s there without making it obvious.  
Neither of us steps into the apartment and I could swear I could hear Logan’s heart pounding alongside mine, echoing through the empty hallway. I suddenly remember just how alone we are. I hold my breath, the oxygen swelling in my neck as I turn my head, glancing down each side of the hallway. There’s no one that I can see. Again, there’s no relief, worried the person could still be inside.  
“I’m going to check inside the apartment and make sure there isn’t anyone still in there. I need you to stay here.” 
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going in there with you.” I remove his hands from my face, holding them between us. “I’m safer with you than I am standing out here alone.” 
He presses his lips into a thin line, nodding in acknowledgment. I can see the war in Logan’s eyes. He’s afraid. He’s not afraid of what is inside the apartment. Instead, he’s more afraid of how what’s inside will affect me. He’s worried for me. 

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Author Bio

Brittany Taylor grew up all over the world including places such as California, England and Texas. Today she resides in Connecticut with her husband, two sons, two cats, and a dog. She loves reading but loves writing even more. Her favorite things in life are her family, binge watching Golden Girls, and tacos.

Author Links

#BlogTour | #ExcerptReveal | THE THINGS I WANT TO SAY BUT CANT by Carla Christian @Carla_C_Author (July 21st 2020) @lovebooksgroup #lovebookstours

Hello and welcome to our stop on The Things I Want To Say But Can’t blog tour! Please scroll down for an excerpt.


‘A lifetime of endings, a million goodbyes. None of them right. It’s funny what you remember when you’ve got nothing else to think about. All those things you should’ve said while you had the chance. You never learned, did you? You never, ever learned.’

Belle has a habit of losing things. Her friends. Her lovers. Her mind.

Everything ends eventually, or at least that’s what life has taught her. But what if everything she lost came back again? What if she got a chance to finally have her say? To face her past. To put things right.

Second chances aren’t easy when memories are all you have. So, when Belle invites the nightmares of her past back in, is she willing to deal with the consequences? Because maybe, just maybe, this time she’s getting what she deserves.


I can’t quite remember how I got here, lying on the sofa beneath the old dusky-pink eiderdown, staring into the flames flickering in the open fire. Snatches of memories come and go. How I’d woken from a dream on the lawn to find darkness had fallen. How I’d scrabbled for the key in the gutter, moss and dirty water embedding themselves behind my fingernails. How I’d scrubbed vomit from my hair and blood from my hands. 

Blood on my hands. Always blood on my hands. Like Ebony’s, only different this time.

How I’d stripped off my clothes and stood naked in the kitchen while I’d soaked away the stains of my ordeal in the sink, scouring away the trauma with cheap green soap and years-old bleach until my hands were raw. How I didn’t once notice that I was shivering. How I didn’t once question why. 

How I’d stepped into the shower where the ice-cold water rattled through ancient pipes, shocking me awake, soothing the bruises, easing the swelling. How I’d poured what was left of the bleach into my palm, the smell making my stomach churn and my throat close up; how I’d rubbed it all over me like soap, until my skin tingled and reddened and fought back angrily. How it hurt as it took you away, hurt like hell, but how I was glad. How I carried on. More and more. From the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Frantic, frightened, desperate and determined. Until the bottle was empty and I finally stopped, sinking down to a curled-up mess of a girl in the corner of the shower cubicle, plastic bottle clutched to my chest as visions rippled in front of me like misplaced heatwaves: of the school playground where I saved her that one and only time, a jam-jar clasped tight against her, of Dan as he walked away and didn’t ever come back, and the fireplace where Ben had loved me and where he had come undone. And then you. You who took away the little I had left to give. 

Author Bio:

Carla Christian lives in the Lake District in the North of England. A busy working mum of two teenagers, she has a passion for writing, art and travel, and these interests have been a part of her for as long as she can remember. 

Constantly inspired by both the good and the bad in the world around her, she spends much of her time creating in one way or another; be it painting canvases for the blank walls of her new home, sketching pictures to capture memories of the many travel adventures she’s been lucky enough to go on, baking fantastical cakes with her daughter, or writing endless beginnings to a million unfinished stories.

The Things I Want To Say But Can’t is her first novel.

You can buy The Things I Want To Say But Can’t from the following booksellers (and obviously many more! Support your local booksellers where you can!)

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#CoverReveal | #ExcerptReveal | LUCKY CATCH by Lea Coll (September 14th 2020) @GiveMeBooksPR

Title: Lucky Catch
A Quick Snap Collection Novella
Author: Lea Coll
Publisher: Lady Boss Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Kari March Designs
Photo: Wander Aguiar
Model: Forest
 Release Date: September 14, 2020



I don’t date football players.

As an unproven sideline reporter, I need to show I’m more than a pretty face. And I have the perfect opportunity when my boss asks me to dig into the rookie wide receiver, Gavin Keller. Coming from a family of football stars, he’s my chance to write a huge story about the newest Keller to go pro. 

I need to get to know the man under the pads. Is he an arrogant entitled player or is there a side to him no one knows about?

The more I watch Gavin at practice and when he mentors young athletes, the more I realize he’s nothing like I thought. He’s a leader, someone the fans can rally behind. 

The more I see, the more I like him—not the player. And the looks he gives me say he feels the same.
As we get closer, I’m tempted to break my no-player rule. But if anyone finds out, it’s my job on the line. Giving in would mean losing everything.


I’ve always had more to prove than any of my teammates. 

I know what everyone says about me. Since the first time I touched a ball, I’ve been living in the shadow of my family’s football legacy. My life is focused on my game and giving back and nothing else. I’m not giving anyone another reason to talk. That’s until the new reporter, Lexie Austin appears on the sidelines in her skin-tight tailored suits and sky-high heels. 

They say she’s only here because of her looks, just like they say I’m only here because of my name.

So what if everyone is as wrong about her as me? She’s more than a pretty face and I’m playing better than ever with her watching. It’s starting to feel like she’s my personal good luck charm. 

She doesn’t care about my last name, my signing bonus, or my star potential. She wants to know me.

I want her in my bed, by my side, and in my life. Now I just have to convince her that if she falls, it’ll be the luckiest catch I ever make.

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The expectations were heavy for any rookie, but I’d lived under the shadow of my father’s legendary success and my brother’s rise to stardom. I’d seen the recent headlines: Gavin Keller was drafted because of his last name—any other player with similar stats wouldn’t be playing professional ball. The implication was clear—I’d never live up to my father or my brother’s success. There was no way three football stars could come from the same family. There were many examples of three brothers in the sport or two brothers and a father, but one usually didn’t live up to the hype. 
“That was impressive,” a female voice said.
I turned away from the other rookies running sprints to find a tall woman leaning on the fence, with a press lanyard hanging around her neck. She was gorgeous. Her smile was open and friendly.
“Thanks.” My voice was terse. I didn’t want to encourage the press to speak to me. I didn’t want anyone twisting my words to suit the headlines already written in their head.
Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered. “I’m Alexandra Austin. But everyone calls me Lexie.”
“Gavin Keller.” I didn’t move toward her. No matter how beautiful this woman was, I couldn’t afford any distractions. She was the worst kind of distraction—all long legs, dark hair, and striking blue eyes. The suit she wore molded to her body but still left a lot to my imagination.
“I know.” She smiled wider.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say she didn’t. No one knew anything beyond my name and stats.
“I’m hoping to get to know you this year.” She said it matter-of-factly with no overtures or flirtations.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Her tone was sweet and inviting. I flicked a glance at her Seattle lanyard. She wasn’t the enemy, but she wasn’t exactly a friend either.

Author Bio

Lea Coll worked as a trial attorney for over ten years. Now she stays home with her three children, plotting stories while fetching snacks and running them back and forth to activities. She enjoys the freedom of writing romance after years of legal writing.

She grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania and currently resides in Maryland with her family.

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#CoverReveal | #ExcerptReveal | PERSONAL FOUL by Cala Riley (September 14th 2020) @GiveMeBooksPR

Title: Personal Foul
A Quick Snap Collection Novella
Author: Cala Riley
Publisher: Lady Boss Press
Genre: Sports Romance
Cover Designer: Kari March
Release Date: September 14, 2020


Garrett “Tank” Stone lived and breathed football. As one of the best offensive linemen in the country, he thought he would start and end his career in New England. When his lifestyle injures the most important person on his team, the unthinkable happens.


Such a dirty word. Starting over in Seattle isn’t what he thought he would be doing. Especially not with the only woman who’s ever turned him down.

Could this trade be a blessing or is it a curse?

Reagan Kelly’s whole life has revolved around football. All she wants to do is to step out of her family’s shadow and create a name for herself in the sport she loves. When Garrett Stone is traded to her team, all her carefully laid plans are blown up.

Can she fight her attraction and keep things professional or is she destined to be the next in the very long line to ride the Tank?

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He lifts me up and slams my back into the wall, making me gasp. I lean forward, biting his lip, slowly releasing it.
He pulls back, eyes dilated. “I’ll take you to bed, but one thing is for sure, I will fuck you against a wall very soon.” He pulls away from the wall, holding me, hands on my ass and starts walking towards his room.
“Why is that?”
“Because masterpieces belong on the wall, and you, mi reina, are a fucking masterpiece.” 

Author Bio

Cala Riley, better known as Cala and Riley, are a pair of friends with a deep seated love of books and writing. Both Cala and Riley are happily married and each have children, Cala with the four-legged kind while Riley has a mixture of both two-legged and four. While they live apart, that does not affect their connection. They are the true definition of family. What started as an idea that quickly turned into a full-length book and a bond that will never end. 

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#CoverReveal | #ExcerptReveal | #Giveaway | DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER by Charmaine Pauls @CharmainePauls (September 15th 2020) @GiveMeBooksPR

Title: Diamonds are Forever
A Diamond Magnate Novel
Series: Diamonds are Forever Trilogy #3
Author: Charmaine Pauls

Genre: Dark Romance
Cover Design: Simply Defined Art
Photo: Wander Aguiar
Models: Dina Auneau & Rodiney Santiago
Release Date: September 15, 2020


My love is wasted like gemstones in the dust, walked over by an oblivious shoe. It takes many suffering years and layers of mountains to squeeze carbon into a precious stone. Now that I’m polished and hard like a diamond, he doesn’t get to kick me back into the dirt.

Men like him don’t love women like me.
They don’t love.

But he made me.
He’ll live with me.
Because diamonds are forever.

(Diamonds are Forever concludes this trilogy. Diamonds in the Dust (Book 1) and Diamonds in the Rough (Book 2) must be read to follow the story.)

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Dragging both hands over his head, he tilts his face to the ceiling and walks away from me. “Fuck.” He stays at the far end of the room for a moment before turning back to me. His hair is even wilder than before when he finally drops his arms to his sides. A war rages in his eyes. For a minute, he’s not my kidnapper, but the man who cares about me. He’s just a man making himself vulnerable by opening up and dropping his defenses. “I don’t want to scare you, Zoe. After your father—”
Sighing, he comes back and picks up the medicine box. “I’m going to tell you a story. A young man goes to a market and sees a beautiful woman admiring a precious object. He can see she wants it, but when she opens her purse, she doesn’t have enough money. This man, he was paid to abduct that woman. He has two choices. He can either grab her, tie her up, and drag her away, or he can go up to her and tell her how beautiful she is and buy her that precious object she wants so much. He can do that for her and be kind, inviting her to dinner. They can have a good time, have great sex. He can ask her to go away with him and knows she’ll say yes. Tell me, Zoe. Which man is kinder? Which man is the most selfless?”
“The honest one,” I whisper.
A shutter drops in front of his eyes. The man who was reaching out to me a second ago retracts back into his shell. I mourn the loss, the almost-intimacy, but I can’t lie to him. I can’t betray myself. I can’t strengthen his warped belief that lies can smooth over his crimes.

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Author Bio

Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a degree in Communication at the University of Potchestroom, and followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations, advertising, communications, photography, graphic design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her professions.

After relocating to Chile with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published over twenty novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles. Two of her shorts have been selected by the International Literary Society for an anthology from across the African continent.

When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in France with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.

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#TeaserShare | #ExcerptReveal | FIERCE (ROSEWOOD HIGH SERIES) by Tracy Lorraine @Tracy_L_Author (August 20th 2020) @GiveMeBooksPR

TEASER REVEAL!!! Fierce, the 4th book in the Rosewood High Series by Tracy Lorraine releases August 20!!!
“phenomenal book” – Amazon reviewer
“this book was one amazing tale of love and redemption! …perfection” – Abstract Books
Add to your Goodreads TBR ➩ https://bit.ly/3kCYr9W
Vote for Fierce for most anticipated romance in August ➩ https://bit.ly/2EsBFkg
Bloggers & Bookstagrammers, sign up to review ➩ https://bit.ly/2XbuuDx

Everyone thinks they know me… but they’re wrong.

Fearless on the outside— a lie.

I’m a fraud, hiding behind a mask of perfection. My reality very different.

The captain. The leader. The Queen Bee.

None of it real— all just an illusion.

Perception is everything and I use it to get what I want, when I want, refusing to let anyone stand in my way.

Until he shows me that he’s not the man I expected. He’s not just the quiet one… the innocent one.

But the one to finally tear away the mask and look beneath the surface. The only one who sees me, gets me, challenges me.

He’s already changed my life in a way I never expected.

My secret could make us or break us, but I know one thing for sure… I’ll protect it fiercely.

That’s the real me. Chelsea Fierce.

The girl behind the mask with everything to lose.

“Chelsea, you don’t need anyone to hold your hand. You never have. Fierce isn’t just your last name, girl. It runs through your fucking veins. You need to pick yourself up and walk back into that school like you fucking own it. But you really don’t need me to tell you this, do you?”

For the first time since I can really remember, I think I do need to hear it.

Since I turned up in Rosewood after being dragged from my old life, I’ve made a point of showing everyone a certain side of me. And right now, I need to find that girl that Luca is talking about once again. It’s no good being this broken girl who’s been beaten down by her past and her mistakes. That won’t get me anywhere.

I’ve got to hold my head high. Even if it is easier said than done.

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