Monday, April 10, 2017

Release Blitz for Suddenly Us by Marie Skye


TITLE: Suddenly Us 
AUTHOR: Marie Skye







Gwen
Love. Who needs that? Who would want that?
Who hasn't had their heart split in two,
because they were never their first option,
and damn sure their second. I have. But I
stayed. Why did I stay? It was love. I wanted
to finally feel that I was wanted. It didn't
matter if he thought I was worthless.
It didn't matter if he degraded me, because
he felt like it. Any love is better than no
love...right?
Hawkins
Every day, I'm haunted and tormented. When,
I look in the mirror I see a failure.
A failure
that let people that needed me down.
I worry that it will happen again.
If it happens to the people I care about the
most, I don't think I could live with myself.
Can I put my torturous past behind me and
start to enjoy life? Especially now that
I have a reason to live it?
Warning: Certain Scenes May cause a Trigger, or make you uncomfortable. If it does, then I did my job. You've been warned.










Marie Skye is your average career driven woman by day, and a hidden lover of all things dirty by night. Or, as she likes to say, professional by day; author whore by night.
​If it's dark, and full of inappropriate material. She's attracted to it. She prefers making her character’s work for their happy ever after, if they get one, and she has no problem making sure they endure every obstacle to try to get there. She's known as not having a filter, and if she's asked for an opinion, be prepared to get a response that's most likely a mixture of sarcasm and bluntness.
Marie is the type of person that can be friends with anyone, but if you have cake, you're pretty much her best friend.




Blog Tour and Giveaway for Invaluable by Alana Albertson

Invaluable

by Alana Albertson The Trident Code #2 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Purchase:  Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo
I’ll be honest with you—I’m no saint. Sure, when I turned down my 9.6 million dollar football contract to join the SEAL Teams, the media had a field day. Selfless, patriotic, an American hero. But the God’s honest truth was that I was bored with that world, the playboy lifestyle, the ass kissing, the lack of integrity. There’s even a line in one of our cadences: “When I go to heaven St. Peter he will say ‘Did you earn your living? Did you earn your pay?’ My reply was with a little bit of thunder ‘I earned my living killing down under.’” You’ve read the tabloids—I’m infallible, invincible, invaluable. But it wasn’t that deep—I just wanted some action. A one night stand with a San Diego coed, no promise for tomorrow. I picked her out of a steamy nightclub—sexy blonde hair, curvy hips, nice ass. After she rode me all night, I took in the ocean view from my condo, thankful for the blissful moments she gave me to get me through my long deployment—I savored the warm touch of a woman, the scent of her perfume and the sound of her laughter. As fate would have it, I crossed paths with Miss San Diego again, halfway across the world in Afghanistan. Turns out she was a NFL Cheerleader sent on a USO tour to entertain my Team. Her convoy was ambushed, and insurgents held her hostage deep in the mountains. I’d gazed into her beautiful blue eyes and given her my word that she’d be safe. And my word is my bond. I’ll never win MVP, never get the championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.

Invincible

by Alana Albertson The Trident Code #1 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Purchase: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks
I’ll be honest with you—I’m no hero. Sure, the media tries to brand every Navy SEAL as some kind of Batman dressed in cammies. There’s even a line in one of our cadences: Superman is the man of steel, he ain’t no match for Navy SEAL. You’ve seen the movies—we’re infallible, invaluable, invincible. But that night, the one you read about in the papers … all I really wanted to do was get laid. One harmless fuck with an Aruban whore, no strings attached. I picked her out of a lineup—wild, dark hair, long legs and a crooked smile. After she sucked me off, I relaxed back onto the creaky, cum-stained cot, thankful for the blissful moments she gave me when I actually forgot for a second the faces of my buddies who died because I made the wrong call, the tears of the children I couldn’t save, and the eyes of the enemies I slaughtered during their last seconds of life. But before I left, her hazel eyes peered into my soul. She whispered in a distinct Californian accent, “My name is Annie Hamilton. I’m an American citizen. I was kidnapped on spring break five years ago. You’re my last hope. Please save me.” One desperate plea. This wasn’t a Hollywood blockbuster or a New York Times best-selling thriller. I knew this time there was no room for excuses, no margin for errors. I had one chance to put on the cape and be her hero.

Invaluable Male Audition ScriptWhen I was in college, winter had always been my favorite time of the year. Spring breaks always sucked because I’d been deep into a grueling spring training schedule, while summer vacations I’d spent preparing for the upcoming season. But winter breaks were the one time each year I could escape, party, and hook up without a care in the world.Not anymore. Most of the time I could barely tell what season it was. In Afghanistan, the long, frigid days and nights blended together. Nowadays, I was checking out terrorists instead of sexy coeds. And strangely enough, I was fulfilled. Today, I’d get a reprieve from my smelly men. Our SEAL team was the first stop on the much appreciated Christmas USO tour. Kept the morale high. The first plane had arrived yesterday, and the second one had just landed now.Pat, Vic, and I were on our way to greet the planes. No idea who was on the tour—usually it was a mix of professional athletes, cheerleaders, comedians, and movie stars. I’d done a USO tour myself when I’d played professional ball. Hanging out with the SEALs during Christmastime was what had convinced me to leave my career behind and join the Teams. My father was a retired Marine, and I’d always wanted to serve my country. It was the best decision I’d ever made.I handed Vic the big “Welcome to Afghanistan” sign, and the three of us walked to the runway to welcome the USO company. Yup, I was right—a few huge guys walked down the jet way. I immediately recognized one of them, a top quarterback. I was about to shake his hand when Pat whispered in my ear, “Hey, bro, isn’t that Omelet Girl?”I looked up. Fuck my life. Sara, the girl I’d met in Pacific Beach one night last summer while hanging out with Vic walked down the jet way in a skintight sweat suit emblazoned with a flame on the jacket. Pat had nicknamed her Omelet Girl because he’d stopped by my place the morning after I’d met her, and she’d cooked us omelets. They were damn good omelets, too. Vic had bitched those eggs should have technically been his since he’d been my wingman the night before. That only caused Pat to fuck with him some more. But besides being a good cook, I knew next to nothing about the girl. She’d never told me she was a professional cheerleader. A fucking San Diego Wildfire Girl—part of the hottest dance team in the league. Then again, I’d never told her I was a Navy SEAL. I guess we were even.My eyes traced her body, her incredible curves hiding beneath her clothes. I flashed and remembered her legs spread on the rim of my hot tub as I ate her for all I was worth. “Hi, Sara.” I grinned. “Welcome to Afghanistan, beautiful.”Her mouth flew open and closed, her lips twisting as if temporarily lost in thought. And I wondered if she’d call me out on what I’d done. After a beat, she gave me the same unabashed grin I’d given her. Though hers was more of a smirk. “Kyle! What are you doing here? Wait, you’re on the USO tour, too?” she asked excitedly, fluttering her lashes in a dramatic fashion. It was clear she was giving me a hard time. I excepted as much. She stared at my uniform, realization settling across her face. “Why are you in cammies? Were you on the other plane? Are you playing again? Which team do you play for?”Whoa, she should’ve been an interrogator. She could probably do a better job than I could. I laughed and pulled her to my side as she noticeably cringed at the barrage of questions. “SEAL Team Seven, sweetheart—I don’t play ball anymore. You just flew thirty-six hours to entertain me. And I’m ready. Come here, baby. Give me a kiss.” I hugged her and kissed her cheek, pressing her tight little body up against me. Invaluable Female ScriptHer voice choked with impending sobs. “I don’t want to die.”I made a conscious decision at that point. I refused to focus on being certain I was about to die. I would savor the time I had left. And protect Maya at all costs. We continued to march deeper into the night, the walls of darkness closing in on us. Soft lighting came from a small flashlight one carried. When I turned back, glancing over my shoulder, I made out Crazy Eyes and his friend speaking in hushed voices, both their rifles with extra ammunition pointed at us. There was no way out, no escape. They noticed I was staring and became silent. I whipped my head forward so fast it ached. “I can still see the truck. We’re not far,” I whispered to myself. I racked my brain with a plan. I wouldn’t be discarded on the side of the road. Left to decompose. I refused. We walked in unison, at first no sounds but their heavy footsteps behind us. They were in horrible shape and I heard their heavy breathes as we marched. We didn’t have weapons but maybe we could outrun them. Then we stopped. Still in the middle of nowhere. I analyzed the area, looking for a way out.That was when Crazy Eyes removed a knife from one of his pants leg pockets, its blade lightly shinning under the stars above. It wasn’t just any knife.Not a long blade that could execute us in a single swipe, more of a butcher knife. I wondered if they relished in slow torture. If they planned to saw our heads off, gradually, agonizingly, making us suffer for as long as possible. The other thug kicked the back of my leg, then Maya’s. Her knees buckled, and I held onto her, plastering her to my side. “Get on your knees and turn away from us.” The bastard knew more English than he had let on. Maya burst into tears. And it took all my strength not to give these heathens the satisfaction of my terror.I looked up to the moon for comfort, but even the moon had failed me. Had hidden when I needed it. But the stars lit up the sky. The same stars Kyle and I made love under the night before.And at that moment, I made a vow.A vow to live. To believe.Because I knew that somewhere out there Kyle was under those same stars, and they would lead him to me. I just needed to figure out how to keep us alive until then.

About Alana Albertson

Alana Albertson is an award winning Latina author, the former President of Romance Writers of America’s Contemporary Romance, Chick Lit, and Young Adult chapters. She holds a Masters of Education from Harvard and a Bachelor of Arts in English from Stanford. A recovering professional ballroom dancer, Alana currently writes new adult romantic suspense, young adult, and contemporary romance. She lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, two sons, and five dogs. When she’s not spending her time needlepointing, dancing, or saving dogs from high kill shelters through her rescue Pugs N Roses, she can be found watching episodes of House Hunters, Homeland, or Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Bookbub | Amazon | Newsletter

Cover Reveal for THE REUNION by Sara Portman


THE REUNION
by Sara Portman
Genre: Historical Romance

Pub Date: 9/26/2017

An inconvenient engagement turns a marriage of convenience into so much more in this sparkling new series from award-winning author Sara Portman . . .
Lady Emmaline Shaw’s reputation was irreparably damaged when her fiancĂ©, John Brantwood, disappeared immediately after their engagement four years ago. Since then, she’s grown from a shy, uncertain girl to a woman who knows her own mind. And what she knows is that London society holds nothing for her.
Rumor has it that John ran off to war and died in battle. Now, as the new Duke of Worley, his shocking resurrection throws the ton into a tizzy and makes him one of England’s most sought after bachelors—except that he’s already engaged.
John needs a wife capable of smoothing his beloved sister’s introduction into society. But though Emma happily grants him his freedom, her fiery beauty and resilient spirit hold him captive. In fact, John has no intention of letting her go. Her fate is now in his hands, but will her heart be safe there as well?

Buy Links:



Sara Portman is an award winning author of historical and contemporary romance. In addition to being named the 2015 winner in the Historical Category of the Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart® contest, Sara has been a finalist and winner in several other writing competitions. A daughter of the Midwest, Sara was born in Illinois, grew up in Michigan, and currently lives in Ohio. In addition to her writing endeavors, Sara is a wife and mother in a large, blended family. Visit her at saraportman.com.





Cover Package for Resurrecting Hope by Jane Anthony

Title: Resurrecting Hope
Author: Jane Anthony
Genre: Contemporary Romance (with Dark Elements)
Release Date: May 1, 2017 Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling Photographer: Sean Archer
~Hope~
I’m broken.
I’m hiding.
I’m not the woman he claims he loves.
Hope Moon is a figment, a fairy tale. A single mom with sunny smiles on the outside, but whose pitch-black insides are riddled with demons.
I can’t look him in the face, can’t tell him who I am.
If I let my guard down, Jack will find me.
Jack’s wrath left me bound in hell. 
Can Hank’s love set me free?
~Hank~
I’ve been hurt. 
I’ve been used. 
I’ve been betrayed.
But Hank Lawless isn’t a man to be trifled with. 
Hope Moon has caught me like a fly in a web. Her gaze is haunted, her moves calculated. There’s more to the dark haired beauty than meets the eye. She’s hiding something. 
I need to find a way to break down her defenses.
I vowed to walk beside her through her own personal hell.
But is my love enough to free her from it? 
**This book contains mature content and is meant for adults 18+. It contains a trigger warning for graphic scenes of domestic violence and rape. It’s a story about second chances, and overcoming your shattered past by any means necessary. Please take this into account before reading.**
Resurrecting Hope
Exclusive Excerpt
Copyright © Jane Anthony 2017
All rights reserved
“Hello?”
A deep, Southern drawl bounced off the walls of my empty house. Actually, let me rephrase. It was more of a shack, really. A hovel. Termites holding hands. Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling with nothing but cracks—but it was mine. Paid for with my own blood, sweat, and tears. The only thing I’d wanted since the moment I settled into life with Jack.
Just saying his name makes me shudder. He was so sweet when we first met. The perfect gentleman—opening doors, bringing flowers—but everything changed the moment he slid that tiny band of gold onto my finger. He became tyrannical. Nothing I did was good enough. He dictated everything from my clothes to my hair to the places we went. He didn’t want a wife. He wanted a love slave, one he could kick around.
Leaving him was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Everything I owned was in Jack’s name. He claimed it was better that way, but now I know it was just his way of keeping control. I escaped from his grasp by the skin of my teeth with nothing but the clothes on my back and the money I had stolen. I changed my name, my appearance, and my life. Rebecca Benedetti no longer exists.
My name is Hope. And little did I know, this would be the day my life would change forever.
“Ms. Moon, are you home?” the rich baritone called again.
“Yeah!” I called back, wiping the fresh tears from my cheeks. Sometimes, I still feel him. His face rolls through my mind, his words washing over me, telling me when I’ve been a good girl. He’s no good for me. He hurt me. And after everything he put me through, I can’t understand why I still love him. “I’m in the laundry room! Hold on I’ll be right—”
The pocket door slid open before I had a chance to finish, and I startled. I wasn’t expecting the handyman for another hour. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Moon. I didn’t mean to, er, interrupt. The door was open, and …”
Wrinkles formed on his forehead as he rubbed his masculine hands against it, avoiding eye contact. He caught me in a precarious situation. Not only was I sobbing my eyes out, but I was also wearing nothing but a bra and shorts.
Southern summers are hot as Hades, and my new home didn’t come with air conditioning. That was part of the reason I called him. The house needed a ton of work, and his ad on Craigslist promised great service at a reasonable price. Nowhere in the article did it mention he was gorgeous. Well over six feet of solid muscle, he made the tiny room seem minuscule by comparison.
When I didn’t respond, his gaze fell on mine. His eyes were intense—the kind of eyes a girl could get lost in—and I found myself plummeting into their deep blue depths without warning. “Are you okay?” He took a step forward, and reaching for the toilet paper, he pulled off a length of it to dry my tears. “Here,” he added, grazing the cottony soft tissue across my cheek. “All better.”
“I’m embarrassed,” I replied with a sniffle and my best attempt at a smile.
“No, miss. I’m the one who’s embarrassed. I just helped myself to your house, and here you are…” His searing gaze raking over my body reminded me I’m not wearing a shirt. His sudden presence jumbled every thought in my head. He was a divine creature, full of ink, shrouded in darkness. “I’ll just wait for you in the kitchen.”
“Wait.” My pathetic demand slowed his pace, and he turned back around. A hint of lust flashed in his eyes. He didn’t want to look, this I knew, but he couldn’t help himself. My body was long and lean from spending hours in the gym. My breasts, previously enlarged at Jack’s request, were round and taut, rising out of the cups of my bra with each deep, ragged breath I took.
I don’t know why I did it. Perhaps it had been so long since I felt a man’s touch on my body. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes devouring my flesh, the feeling of being wanted instead of owned. To this day, I still don’t know, but I’ll never forget the hunger in his gaze when my hands slipped behind my back and tugged at the tiny row of hooks keeping my chest contained.
The lacy material fluttered to the floor between us. He looked down at it, then back at me. “Ms. Moon, I—”
“Shhh. Don’t speak. Just help me forget.”
I didn’t even know his name, but I didn’t need to. The only thing I needed from him was to ease the pain. To soothe the aching in my chest and between my thighs and remind me how a woman should feel. To make me new, completely and utterly.
His tongue slid across his bottom lip; I suppose to contemplate his next move. I took a tentative step. He met me halfway and continued moving until my back hit the wall. The heat between us radiated. Having him this close set me ablaze. Not just from the sweltering temperature, but from the desire I felt rippling off his body.
 A whisper of a kiss, soft and sensual. A large palm touched my cheek, the other gripped my ass, pulling me against him. His tongue swept across my lips then slipped between them. It ignited the spark; a brilliant flash that burst into flames, engulfing me like a brush fire.
My hands found their way under his shirt. The hard planes of his abs contracted under my fingers as they traveled along his torso. With one swift move, he yanked the collar of his shirt over his head. Ribbons of ink covered his tanned skin almost entirely. I ran my hands over them, following with my mouth as his fingers tangled in my hair.
Rough. His hands were rough, both in feel and movement. When he dropped them under my ass and hoisted me in the air, my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. I slipped my hand between us and opened his fly. His jeans fell to the floor and pooled onto his thick, black work boots. Hardness pressed against my throbbing core. What felt like nine inches of rock-hard steel taunting me with each swivel of his hips. I couldn’t wait anymore. The need coursing through my body was a tidal wave threatening to drown me. I had to feel him inside me.
Calloused fingers slipped inside my shorts, and I felt his lips curve into a grin against my neck. “Damn, girl,” he growled as they slid inside me down to the knuckle.
A breathy moan floated to the ceiling as my head fell against the wall. “I don’t want your hand. I want your cock.” My lips said one thing, but my hips bucked against his palm as his fingers fucked me deeper still.
“You’re a naughty little kitten, ain’t ya?” he rumbled as his thumb circled my aching clit. “Lemme hear that kitty purr.”
A keening cry tore from my lungs. My body fell limp, but his strong arms caught me, keeping me tethered to the wall. “These are in my way.” He tore at my shorts, shredding the thin cotton material in his large hand while I pushed at his boxer briefs with my feet.
With delicious brute force, he slid himself inside me, balls deep. Lightning flashed behind my lids. I groaned as his hips began to move, slamming into me hard. “Is this what you want?”
My only response was a resounding pleasure-filled moan. He plunged himself fast and free, grunting each time our bodies met. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Come on my cock.”
A storm swirled in my gut, whirling and twirling until waves of pleasure crashed over me. “Oh-oh-oh!” I cried. His fingers bit into my ass cheeks, pulling me closer as he rammed into my body and another orgasm surged through me, pulling him along with it. Rolling thunder rumbled from his chest. Blasts of hot cum filled my insides.
The maniacal thrusting of his hips slowed to a less brutal pace. Deep breaths skittered across my lips as his face lifted to meet mine, and our mouths grazed again, softly, sweetly.
I never thought I’d see him again …
Jane Anthony is a romance author, fist pumping Jersey-girl, and hard rock enthusiast. She resides in the ‘burbs of New Jersey with her husband and children. A lover of Halloween, vintage cars, & coffee, she’s also a cornucopia of useless 80’s knowledge and trivia. When not writing, she’s an avid reader, concert goer, and party planner extraordinaire.
Jane loves hearing from her readers! Connect with her on these social media sites, and don’t be too shy to say hello!
HOSTED BY: