The Banker Cover Reveal + Giveaway

Cover Design: Djordje Grbic

Release Date: April 5, 2017



Who knew my brother’s friend could be Mr. Right, and not just Mr. Right Now?

My brother refused to introduce me, so I blame him. If he’d just caved, and introduced me to Jasper, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I mean, really, what’s the big deal? I’m not interested in the guy’s looks.

Oh no, I want his cold hard cash. (Be honest, you were expecting that other four letter ‘c’ word weren’t you?)

Now, before you go getting all judgy, I’m not a gold digger. I have a legitimate business opportunity for Jasper to invest in. The problem is that my stick-up-his-ass brother is embarrassed that his twin sister invents kick ass sex toys. His problem, not mine.

So, I took matters into my own hands. Defeat isn’t a word in Lennon Hart’s dictionary.

Using my stealthy P.I. moves, I narrowed my search to a time and place where I knew I could find him. It was completely innocent. A chance meeting that would give me the opportunity to pitch my business.

It wasn’t until I sat down across from the gorgeous panty soaking man in front of me, that I realized I wanted so much more than just his money. I could very well want his heart if I wasn’t careful.

Apparently my P.I. skills aren’t as stellar as I thought because Jasper had his own secret—and it changed EVERYTHING.





Preorder Links

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One of Five ARC’s for The Banker

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About the Author

Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two established authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?

We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.

What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We’re both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We’re both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.



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A Brut Unexpected Cover Reveal + Giveaway

Cover Design: Sarah Hansen / Okay Creations

Release Blitz: April 10, 2017



How do you know when a fake relationship turns into a real one? #AskingForAFriend

Claire is not:
– A natural athlete
– Very good with mornings
– Greyson Vaughn’s real girlfriend

But she pretends to be his girlfriend on television. And Twitter. And the gossip websites that question Every. Single. Thing. about his movie star existence. Including the question on everyone’s lips — #WhosThatGirl?

Enlisted by her grandmother to act as Greyson’s “mysterious English girlfriend” during a weekend at Castle Calder, Claire agrees to help the Hollywood hottie combat rumors of stalking his pop-star ex. She needs a distraction — from grad school, bills and her dull-as-dishwater love life — and, well, it’s only for a weekend.

Until Greyson asks her to continue the ruse through his upcoming London premiere. And another trip to Castle Calder for a sexy weekend escape. Where there are no cameras and no reporters. Nothing but the two of them and a “fake” relationship that’s starting to feel very, very real.







One of Five ARC’s for A Brit Unexpected

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About the Author

Brenda is a displaced New Yorker living in the English countryside. She writes novels about teens and twenty-somethings kissing. Her characters do other things, too, but there’s always kissing.

When she’s not writing, Brenda enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.


Connect with Brenda St John Brown

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Runes Book Tour + Giveaway 


Runes Series Book 1

by Ednah Walters

Genre: YA Fantasy, Paranormal Romance


Seventeen-year-old Raine Cooper has enough on her plate dealing with her father’s

disappearance, her mother’s erratic behavior and the possibility of

her boyfriend relocating. The last thing she needs is Torin St.

James—a mysterious new neighbor with a wicked smile and uncanny way

of reading her.

Raine is drawn to Torin’s dark sexiness against her better judgment,

until he saves her life with weird marks and she realizes he is

different. But by healing her, Torin changes something inside Raine.

Now she can’t stop thinking about him. Half the time, she’s not

sure whether to fall into his arms or run.

Scared, she sets out to find out what Torin is. But the closer she gets to

the truth the more she uncovers something sinister about him. What

Torin is goes back to an ancient mythology and Raine is somehow part

of it. Not only is she and her friends in danger, she must choose a

side, but the wrong choice will cost Raine her life.

Goodreads * Amazon * iTunes * B&N * GooglePlay * Smashwords * Kobo



(book 2)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 3)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 4)

Goodreads * Amazon


(book 5)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 6)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 7)

Goodreads * Amazon



USA Today Bestselling Author Ednah Walters is a multi-published author of

four different series–her Norse-mythology-based bestselling YA

Paranormal romance series, RUNES(YA-Paranormal Romance) and Nephilim

THE GUARDIAN LEGACY-(YA fantasy romance).

She also writes contemporary romance under E. B. Walters. The Fitzgerald

Family series started with SLOW BURN. There are six books in this

series. Her new USA Today bestselling series, INFINITUS BILLIONAIRES.

Impulse (book 1) was published in January 2015. Indulge (Aug 4th). 

Website * Newsletter * Facebook * Twitter * Pinterest * Instagram * Goodreads * Amazon



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A Ghostly Mortality Book Tour + Giveaway

A Ghostly Mortality

by Tonya Kappes

on Tour February 28 – March 30, 2017


A Ghostly Mortality

That ghost sure looks . . . familiar

Only a handful of people know that Emma Lee Raines, proprietor of a small-town Kentucky funeral home, is a “Betweener.” She helps ghosts stuck between here and the ever-after—murdered ghosts. Once Emma Lee gets them justice they can cross over to the great beyond.

But Emma Lee’s own sister refuses to believe in her special ability. In fact, the Raines sisters have barely gotten along since Charlotte Rae left the family business for the competition. After a doozy of an argument, Emma Lee is relieved to see Charlotte Rae back home to make nice. Until she realizes her usually snorting, sarcastic, family-ditching sister is a… ghost.

Charlotte Rae has no earthly idea who murdered her or why. With her heart in tatters, Emma Lee relies more than ever on her sexy beau, Sheriff Jack Henry Ross…because this time, catching a killer means the Raines sisters will have to make peace with each other first.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery, Paranormal

Published by: Witness

Publication Date: February 28th 2017

Number of Pages: 336

ISBN: 0062466976 (ISBN13: 9780062466976)

Series: Ghostly Southern Mysteries #6

Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗

Read an excerpt:

Lawdy bee.” Granny scooted to the edge of the chair and lifted her arms in the air like she was worshiping in the Sunday morning service at Sleepy Hollow Baptist and the spirit just got put in her.

I sucked in a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever was going to come out of Zula Fae Raines Payne’s mouth, my granny. She was a ball of southern spitfire in her five-foot-four-inch frame topped off with bright red hair that I wasn’t sure was real or out of a L’Oréal bottle she’d gotten down at the Buy-N-Fly.

“Please, please, please,” she begged. “Let me die before anything happens to Emma Lee.” Her body slid down the fancy, high-back mahogany leather chair as she fell to her knees with her hands clasped together, bringing them back up in the air as she pleaded to the Big Guy in the sky. “I’m begging you.”

“Are you nuts?” My voice faded to a hushed stillness. I glanced back at the closed door of my sister’s new office, in fear she was going to walk in and see Granny acting up. I sat in the other fancy, high-back mahogany leather chair next to Granny’s and grabbed her by the loose skin of her underarm. “Get back up on this chair before Charlotte Rae gets back in here and sees you acting like a fool.”

“What?” Granny quirked her eyebrows questioningly as if her behavior was normal. My head dropped along with my jaw in the “are you kidding me” look.

“Well, I ain’t lying!” She spat, “I do hope and pray you are the granddaughter that will be doing my funeral, unless you get a flare up of the ‘Funeral Trauma.’ ” She sucked in a deep breath and got up off her knees. She ran her bony fingers down the front of her cream sweater to smooth out any wrinkles so she’d be presentable like a good southern woman, forgetting she was just on her knees begging for mercy.

“Flare up?” I sighed with exasperation. “It’s not like arthritis.”

The “Funeral Trauma.” It was true. I was diagnosed with the “Funeral Trauma” after a decorative plastic Santa fell off the roof of Artie’s Meat and Deli, knocking me flat out cold and now I could see dead people. I had told Doc Clyde I was having some sort of hallucinations and seeing dead people, but he insisted I had been in the funeral business a little too long and seeing corpses all of my life had brought on the trauma. Truthfully, the Santa had given me a gift. Not a gift you’d expect Santa to give you, but it was the gift of seeing clients of Eternal Slumber, my family’s funeral home business where I was the undertaker. Some family business. Anyway, a psychic told me I was now a Betweener. I helped people who were stuck between here and the ever after. The Great Beyond. The Big Guy in the sky. One catch . . . the dead people I saw were murdered and they needed me to help them solve their murder before they could cross over.

“I’m fine,” I huffed and took the pamphlet off of Charlotte Rae’s desk, keeping my gift to myself. The only people who knew were me, the psychic and Sheriff Jack Henry Ross, my hot, hunky and sexy boyfriend. He was as handy as a pocket on a shirt when it came time for me to find a killer when a ghost was following me around. “We are here to get her to sign my papers and talk about this sideboard issue once and for all.” Granny stared at me.

My head slid forward like a turtle and I popped my eyes open.

“I’m fine,” I said through closed teeth.

“You are not fine.” Granny rolled her eyes so big, I swear she probably hurt herself. “People are still going around talking about how you talk to yourself.” She shook her finger at me. “If you don’t watch it, you are going to be committed. Surrounded by padded walls. Then—She jabbed her finger on my arm. I swatted her away with the pamphlet.

“Charlotte Rae will have full control over my dead body and I don’t want someone celebrating a wedding while I lay corpse in the next room. Lawdy bee,” Granny griped. I opened the pamphlet and tried to ignore Granny as best I could.

“Do you hear me, Emma Lee?” Granny asked. I could feel her beady eyes boring into me.

“Don’t you be disrespecting your elders. I asked you a question,” she warned when I didn’t immediately answer her question.

“Granny.” I placed the brochure in my lap and reminded myself to remain calm. Something I did often when it came to my granny. “I hear you. Don’t you worry about a thing. By the time you get ready to die, they will have you in the nut-house alongside me,” I joked, knowing it would get her goat. The door flung open and the click of Charlotte Rae’s high-dollar heels tapped the hardwood floor as she sashayed her way back into her office. The soft linen green suit complemented Charlotte’s sparkly green eyes and the chocolate scarf that was neatly tied around her neck. It was the perfect shade of brown to go with her long red hair and pale skin.

“I’m so sorry about that.” She stopped next to our chairs and looked between me and Granny. She shook the long, loose curls over her shoulders. “What? What is wrong, now?”

“Granny is all worried I’m going to get sent away to the nuthouse and you are going to lay her out here.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Or did my subconscious take over my mouth? It was always a competition between me and Charlotte, only it was one-sided. Mine. Charlotte never viewed me as competition because she railroaded me all my life. Like now. She’d left Eternal Slumber with zero guilt, leaving me in charge so she could make more money at Hardgrove’s Legacy Center, formerly known as Hardgrove’s Funeral Homes until they got too big for their britches and decided to host every life event possible just to make more money.

Excerpt from A Ghostly Mortality by Tonya Kappes. Copyright © 2017 by Tonya Kappes. Reproduced with permission from Witness. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Tonya KappesTonya Kappes has written more than fifteen novels and four novellas, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two very spoiled schnauzers, and one ex-stray cat in northern Kentucky. Now that her boys are teenagers, Tonya writes full-time but can be found at all of her guys’ high school games with a pencil and paper in hand.

Catch Up with Tonya Kappes on her Website 🔗Twitter 🔗, & Facebook 🔗



There is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for Tonya Kappes and Witness Impulse. There will be 1 US winner of one PRINTED set of The Ghostly Southern Mysteries #1-6 by Tonya Kappes. The giveaway begins on February 27th and runs through April 2nd, 2017

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Hot In The City Blog Tour Guest Post + Giveaway 

When attraction burns this hot, it’s only so long before someone has to break…

  • Pub date: March 27, 2017 by  Carina Press
  • Series: Hot in the City, 1/3
  • eISBN: 9781488024528
  • Price: $2.99
  • Format: eBook
  • Genres: Carina Press Romance Promise, Contemporary Romance, Medical, Romance
  • Add it to Goodreads 
  • Buy a Copy: Amazon | iBooks |  B&N | Kobo | Google Play


    The first time Detective Brian MacGregor met Priya Shah, he was bleeding. Injured apprehending a suspect, he just needed a few stitches. He didn’t expect to feel a gut punch of lust for the beautiful ER doc. But another emergency called her away before he had a chance to ask her out…or kiss her. Or find out if she shared his sudden sex-in-a-dark-hospital-room fantasy.


    The second time he met Priya, she was protecting a murder witness.


    Protecting is putting it strongly, if you ask Priya. Her cousin may have witnessed a murder, but she had nothing to do with it. Even if the hot ginger cop seems like the perfect solution to Priya’s summer dry spell, they both have more important things to worry about. Like finding Sara before the murderer does.


    As far as Brian’s concerned, Priya is the key—her cousin is bound to come back to her eventually, and when she does, he’ll be there. They just need to keep their hands off each other until then. But when attraction burns this hot, it’s only so long before someone has to break…

    About Jules Court

    “I’m an East Coast native transplanted to the Pacific Northwest. I like movies with kissing and movies with things that go boom, books with heroines who are 100% done with your crap, dogs and cats living together, and enough sugar in my coffee to make the spoon stand up. 

    I write romance books with a little bit of heat and a lot of heart. My latest is the “Hot in the City” series, three contemporary romance novellas set in Boston.”

    Find Jules:

    Website Facebook | Twitter


    Monday, March 20th – Bewitched Bookworms – Guest Post
    Tuesday, March 21st – Sassy Book Lovers – Interview
    Wednesday, March 22nd – Curling Up With A Good Book – Guest Post
    Friday, March24th – Books,Dreams,Life – Guest Post

    Monday, March 27th – Pretty Sassy Cool – Guest Post
    Tuesday, March 28th – Bewitched Bookworms – Guest Post
    Wednesday, March 29th – Parajunkee – Guest Post
    Friday, March 31st – – Review

    Guest Post: 

    Jules Court

    BlogPost: Introducing Priya, Heroine of Hot in the City
    Dr. Priya Shah just wants a full night’s sleep, a good cup of coffee, and to protect her cousin Sara from whatever trouble she’s gotten mixed up in this time. She doesn’t have the time or mental space to deal with a man, especially not dangerously sexy cop, Brian MacGregor.
    Priya’s guarded and more than a little prickly—at one point Brian thinks, “he hadn’t even begun to peel her onion.” But at her heart lies a deep well of guilt over an incident from her past intertwined with a fierce love for her family. To keep that love, she’s tried to be someone she isn’t. Someone perfect. But being near Brian makes her want to detonate that good girl façade and set her inner wildness free.
    After thirty-six hours on call, the last thing Priya Shah needed was to fulfill some dude’s exotic Kama Sutra fantasy. She was more than capable of getting herself off, and bonus: afterwards, she wouldn’t have to kick out some random.

    So when she saw a male denim-clad thigh slide onto the neighboring barstool, she jammed a fry in her mouth and kept her eyes fixed on her book. At four o’clock in the afternoon, the Thorny Rose had plenty of empty barstools. No reason for him to sit right next to her unless he was one of those guys for whom a single woman out in public was like waving red in front of a bull. And at this moment, she just wanted her cousin to show up so she could go home for at least twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

    Sara should have been here a half hour ago, when her shift started. She had until Priya hit the bottom of her basket of fries to show up. After that, Priya was taking her crabby self off to bed and silencing her phone. Whatever Sara desperately needed to talk to her about would just have to wait.

    “Hi,” her new neighbor said.

    She flipped a page. “Not interested.”

    “It’s Dr. Shah, right?” His voice was deep and warm.

    She looked up and into a pair of familiar green eyes. The hot ginger cop. Was here. She dropped her book on the bar.


    Thanks to the team at Harlequin and Carina Press, one lucky winner will receive the following:

    • $25 Amazon gift card
    • eCopy of Hot in the City

                           Enter Here

The Mortal Falls Release Blitz + Giveaway 

From Award-Winning, Bestselling Author
Anna Durand

A spunky girl. A sexy sylph.
The fate of two worlds rests in their hands.

Book Cover



Series: Undercover Elementals, Book 1
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Jacobsville Books
Publication Date: March 24, 2017

Add to Goodreads

A pragmatic human thrown into a world of magic…

Lindsey Porter fled from her traumatic past, determined to lay low, but now someone has framed her for murder. The quest for answers leads her into a parallel realm where magic reigns, and with a hostile sheriff and a shapeshifting assassin on her trail, she must place her life in the hands of a seductive, supernatural man who tempts her like no one else.

An immortal sylph enslaved by magic…

Nevan is trapped by a desperate bargain struck a century earlier, yet the beautiful, spirited Lindsey has enticed him to abandon his magically enforced duty. As forbidden passion flares between them, they’ll risk everything to uncover the truth and find what they both need the most—redemption.

When two worlds collide…

The fates of the elemental and mortal realms depend on the star-crossed lovers. As dark secrets from their pasts threaten to shatter the fragile trust between Lindsey and Nevan, a shocking revelation holds the power to deliver salvation or destruction.

Purchase Links

Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iBooks | Google




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Contest runs from March 24 – 26, 2017.
Click here to enter now!

About Anna Durand

Author Pic

Anna Durand is an award-winning, bestselling author of sizzling romances, including the Hot Scots series. She loves writing about spunky heroines and hunky heroes, in settings as diverse as modern Chicago and the fairy realm. Making use of her master’s in library science, she owns a cataloging services company that caters to indie authors and publishers. In her free time, you’ll find her binge-listening to audiobooks, playing with puppies, or crafting jewelry.

Official website:

Official blog:

Connect with Anna Durand on social media:

Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Google+ | PinterestAmazon Author Page

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In partnership with

Book Unleashed

27 Revelations Book Tour + Giveaway 

Contemporary Women’s Fiction

Date Published: 04.11.2017


Mara Goodwin is a professional keeper of secrets, or that is what she intends to be. As a counseling psychology student at Northwestern, Mara’s ambition is unrivaled. She has the grades, the compassion, and the dedication, everything she needs to gain entry into the clinical psychology program.

However, after a traumatic experience leaves Mara in a state of mental distress, she finds herself keeping more secrets than she intended, most of them her own. Finding herself in trouble with the law, her dreams of being a therapist are jeopardized and as a consequence, Mara is ultimately forced into group therapy. While in therapy, Mara holds on to her secrets with a death grip, but when life comes full circle, her past is revealed and with it the potential to destroy her future career, her friendships, and ultimately herself.

Mara is a fighter, even if she doesn’t know it yet, but with each attempt to salvage what she can of her broken life, she is met with a consistent punch to the gut. After being pushed to the edge by meddling roommates, a persistent ex-boyfriend, and a potential new boyfriend, Mara comes to the precipice of her destruction. Yet with her destruction also comes her rebirth, and revelations of love, pain, and growth.



I lay in the closet naked, buried in a heap of dirty T-shirts and sweatpants that smelled like a combination of sour milk and sweat. If they could only talk, I thought. But if they could, I knew that my ears would be filled with expletive-filled rants for not having washed them a week ago. 

I rolled over and my back smacked the floor, shooting pain up the back of my neck and into my head. My skin was hot but the coolness of the wooden floor surged through my body like an electrical current. I stretched my legs out, reveling in how good it felt to straighten them. I let them rest outside of the closet door, one tingling from being coiled like a scrunchie and the other freezing, attacked by the cold air gusting from the ceiling vent. Rosalina was home. Her inconsiderate tendencies had me beyond pissed and the day hadn’t even started. Always setting the thermostat to frigid, not caring if the rest of us suffered from hypothermia. 

Sleep fogged my eyes and the smell of morning breath funk on my upper lip made my nose curl. What the hell was I doing in the closet? A thought I should have had earlier. I sat up fast, head spinning as the fringes of a dress swayed before me. I remembered that dress. It took me forever to get into but Frankie had needed no time to get it off. I didn’t know why, but the thought made me cringe and feel weak in the knees at the same time. It was on the left side of the closet, the untouched side. The side where my cute clothes went to die and collect dust after my sweat suits conquered the rest of the space. 

It had happened again, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Before, I was only losing moments. Seconds of time. Small pieces of conversation here and there, but now I was missing the last several hours. I assumed that I had lost most to sleep but there were at least three or four that weren’t accounted for. I feared standing, certain that it would make my headache worse, so I crawled, skin brushing against the clothes that lay in my path. I felt like a worm dying in the sun as I crept out into the light and into the heart of my room. I got to my feet and a couple pairs of dirty underwear fell from my back to the floor. I looked around my room, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. 

Sweat pants, shirts, bras, and all other manner of dirty clothing were scattered across the room. My bed was covered in research articles and books, as was my desk, which sat in the corner near the window. Several pairs of Chuck Taylors were askew against the wall, and the sun shining in made the dust particles dancing about more evident. I was not a slob by nature, but my room was now a disaster, a landfill. Everything that once had a place had none. This was not how I left my room yesterday. 

The house was quiet, but I knew that my peace wouldn’t last long. I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing, chiming from an undisclosed location in my mess of a room. I kicked up clothes and moved books and papers from bed to floor with one smooth brush of an arm, but the damn thing stopped before I could find it. I still wasn’t completely awake, and the thought of having to search everything made my head hurt even more. I stormed around the room, tossing everything to an area of less clutter, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the floor mirror next to my desk and realized that I was still naked. 

Why am I naked? 

I reached down to the floor and rummaged through a pile of clothes, looking for a long T-shirt to put on. Maybe Frankie had been there, or maybe it was someone else. My heart stopped. Could it have been someone else? I crouched down to the floor. 

“Hello…” I called out, still hearing the sleep in my voice. I pulled a dirty clothes pile up to my naked body. There was no response, so in relief I let the bundle fall back to the floor, keeping only a semi-clean tee, and resumed my search. 

I held the T-shirt in my hand and viewed my naked form in the mirror, still not seeing the beauty that people tended to babble on about. I never thought that I was beautiful, but I didn’t think I was ugly either. The sunlight blessed my body, and I admired the brownness of my skin and the slenderness of my face, but I still found myself wishing I looked like my mother. The Jamaican goddess whose curves could rival any racetrack. Unfortunately I took after my scrawny father, whose leanness left me small-chested and ass-less. 

After I had scrutinized myself enough, I finally put on the shirt and kept searching for my phone. Moments later I found it blinking in the trash can. I dusted it off and examined it, hoping that none of the gunk from the trash had attached itself. I had three missed calls from Frankie, two from my mother, and an array of text messages I had no intention of responding to. But Frankie I couldn’t ignore, so I called him. 

“Where the hell are you?”

I could hear the fright in his voice but it was overpowered by condescension. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Why didn’t you call when you got home?” 

My heart raced. “Jesus, Frankie, you don’t have to interrogate me. What is it? What’s wrong?” I reached down to collect the pile of books I had swept from bed to floor. My hand sweat lingered on the book covers as I tried to organize them on the shelf. I was shaking, waiting for him to tell me something horrible. To tell me I had hurt someone, or even worse, to tell me that we had sex.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” I took a book in my hand and threw it across the room. “That’s why I’m calling you!”

“Well, you don’t have to be a—”

“Be what, Frankie? A bitch? I don’t remember coming home last night.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yea, shit.” I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling research papers crumpling under the weight of my body. The sound was excruciating to my ears but so was the sound of Frankie’s paternal voice so early in the morning.

“The last thing I remember is your apartment. I called you hoping you could shed some light, but you’re obviously no help.” 

He took a deep breath. “Yea, Mara. That’s me. Mr. No Fucking Help.” 

His sarcasm wasn’t helping.

“Don’t be a smartass, Frankie,” I said. “Now do you have anything important to tell me? Otherwise you’re wasting my time.”

“You said you had to go home and work on your thesis so you could get to bed early to get to that meet—”

“Son of a bitch.” I took my thumb and index finger, rubbed my eyes, then squeezed the bridge of my nose to relieve the pressure that had been building up in my head. “I almost forgot about the meeting. What time is it?” 

“You did forget, and it’s 8:15.”

I hated him for calling me out.

“I got to go… and don’t call me back. I’ll call you if I want to be bothered, so find someone else to harass today.” 

He laughed. “Whatever, Mara. Besides, probation officers don’t like to be kept waiting. I shouldn’t even be associating with people like you anyway.”

“What do you mean people like me?” I asked.

“You know… delinquents. Menaces to society.”

“That’s not funny. Not even a little bit,” I said. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t do it. I wasn’t going to open that can of worms. Not today.

“Come on. I’m only messing with you. Good luck, and let me know how it goes,” he said.

“Yea, whatever.” I hung up the phone. 

I darted to my closet to find something suitable to wear. I had sweat pants hanging there, but I knew those weren’t going to work, not for a meeting so important, but I couldn’t be without them, so I pulled some out. I fingered through the clothes on the forbidden side and pulled out the longest, plainest skirt and blouse I could find along with a pair of dress flats and threw them on top of my bed. I grabbed a tote bag from the closet shelf and threw in a gray sweat suit, a shirt, and some Chucks and dashed to the bathroom. I tried to let myself in but the door was locked. I didn’t have time for this. I balled up my fist and banged on the door so hard it made my hand sting.

“Who’s in there?” I asked. I listened for movement. “I have to be on campus in thirty minutes!” 

There was no response.

I banged again.

“I need in!”

The lock jiggled, and the door cracked open. Kate stood there wrapped in a towel, her face engulfed by her wet blonde hair. She was pretty, if having keen facial features was the current beauty standard, but her personality was just as sharp as her face.

“You can have the bathroom when I am done,” she said, her face stoic as she peered at me from behind the door. 

I stared at her and wondered what it would feel like to plunge my fist into her face. She was trying to be a smartass. She closed the door and locked it, as if I planned on barging in on her. I could see her in there now, wasting time, sitting on the toilet wrapped in her towel reading a Cosmo, Glamour, or whatever magazines women like her had an affinity for. It was May, I’d moved into the house in February, and I could count on one hand the number times we’ve spoken to each other. I walked away and was only a few steps gone when I heard her yell through the door. 

“Next time get up earlier!”

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand so hard I thought I would draw blood. I stared at the door waiting for her to say something else, wanting her to say something else. It wouldn’t take much for me take it down and do it, punch her square in the nose, but I opted against it. I didn’t need to create another problem for myself. I’d hired her father as my attorney out of an act of desperation and I needed him on my side, so punching and drowning his daughter in the toilet didn’t seem like the right decision to make at the moment. 

When my eyes stopped seeing red, Rosalina stood in the kitchen, staring at me with her disapproving little beady brown eyes. Rosalina wasn’t fat, but she was thicker than the rest of us, and every time I ran into her she was in the kitchen drinking something, cooking something, or eating something. I don’t think I ever saw her in street clothes, either. She was always in scrubs with her hair pulled tight away from her face, sterile and unwelcoming. I stopped worrying about Kate and walked through the living room. 

Our house was aesthetically pleasing, but it was not a house full of warmth and love. It had an open floor plan with rich-colored hardwood floors, soft blue paint on the walls, and a cream-colored sectional that sat in the middle of the living room with an assortment of throws and pillows. It appeared that everyone but me brought something to make it homey. Rosalina had her Wizard of Oz trinkets on display, Kate liked flowers, and Melanie had hung up wall pieces with happy home quotes. Melanie was the only one that I didn’t hate, but she was always at her boyfriend’s so I didn’t understand why she still claimed to live here. 

I walked toward the kitchen but stopped by the thermostat to turn the air up just to piss Rosalina off, the whole time feeling those beady eyes searing through me. 

“Can you not mess with that, please?” she asked, clearly irritated that I had the audacity to even touch it in her presence.

“It’s at sixty-five and it’s freezing in here. It’s not even eighty degrees outside,” I said.

I didn’t know the real temp, but I knew it wasn’t hot enough to have it blaring. It was May in Evanston, and even in August there would be no temp that could justify it being that cold. 

“Well, maybe you should put some clothes on,” she said, looking me up and down, analyzing my bare legs and my frozen nipples on full display through my shirt.

“Maybe you should get a fan.” 

That was it. I didn’t have a better comeback than that.

She gave me such a look I thought that the butter knife in her hand was going to fly across the room and plunge into my heart, but she waved me off and continued chewing on her toast. I didn’t let my eyes leave hers until my foot got caught. I looked down and saw my ankle was tangled up in Kate’s purse straps. I shook my foot in hopes of freeing myself from that hideous thing, taking note of how ugly it was. It was one of those name brand purses that had the company logo printed all across it that screamed, “Look, I have money!” And to make it worse, a tacky, glittery, yellow toad keychain dangled from the zipper. The girl had no taste. Rosalina watched me as I struggled. Her face was expressionless, but I knew she was amused. Once freed, I walked past her to the fridge to grab the orange juice, listening to her crunch on her food with every step I took, never out of her line of sight.

“You left that out on the counter yesterday. Put it back when you’re done, please,” she said. 

Was she my mother now?

“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. 

I opened the cabinet next to the stove where we kept the glasses, but it was empty.

“Where are the clean glasses?” 

She spread butter on another piece of toast.

“Sorry, they’re dirty,” she said as she picked up her glass of water. “I took the last one.”

I shut the cabinet and crossed over to the other side of the kitchen and looked in the dishwasher. It was full of bowls with soggy fruit loops stuck to them, plates with last week’s spaghetti, and glasses with an assortment of lipstick colors and lip glosses painted on the rims. I grabbed a dirty glass out of the top rack, put the detergent in, and slammed the door. Four people lived in this house and nothing ever got done. The trash would never get taken out unless I took it. The dishes would never get washed unless I started a load. This was adulting at its worst. I washed out the glass and poured some juice, then leaned against the dishwasher sipping, waiting for Kate to get out of the bathroom.

I thought about my meeting and read one of Melanie’s homey house sayings that hung next to the TV. 

A house is made of bricks and beams; a home is made of love and dreams.

What bullshit. I turned my attention elsewhere, but caught Rosalina still staring at me, so I stared back. I assumed that she had just finished her shift at the hospital when I found her in her sanctuary. She had a career job, a nurse on the psych ward at some hospital, and on occasion it was nice to have someone to chat with about psychology, but she worked the night shift so we only saw each other in passing, which was fine with me. After a moment of staring I felt the tension subside a bit, so I caved and decided to initiate conversation.

“Long work night?” I asked.

“It wasn’t too bad,” she said as she slowly turned her body to face mine. “What about you? Looks like you had a rough one. Again.” I could hear the cheekiness in her tone. 

I cut my eye at her.

“No, it wasn’t a rough one. I just spent some time reorganizing.” 

“How’s that coming?” she took a sip of her water.

“Good.” I put glass in the sink, ready to return to my room and wait it out there before I continued this conversation.

“Can you please put your glass on the other side of the sink? I can’t use the sink if both sides are full,” Rosalina said. 

I looked at her, then looked back at the sink in disgust. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but one side overflowed with dirty dishes, none of which were mine. I rested my hands on the edge of the sink and squeezed. I could see the pink leave my fingertips as I pressed in. “I would put it on the other side of the sink but someone else has filled the other side to capacity, so what would you like me to do about it? Better yet—” 

“I’m done,” Kate said as she stormed out to of the bathroom into the living room. She grabbed her books and her ugly purse before walking over towards Rosalina. 

“Jesus take the wheel.” I rushed out of the kitchen toward the bathroom. When I looked back before shutting the door, Kate whispered something to Rosalina, and I could read my name on her lips. I wasn’t sure what they thought of me, but I didn’t care. When the lease was up, they could kick rocks. 

“Mara,” Kate said.

The bathroom door was shut so I pretended not to hear.

“Mara.” She was right outside the door. 

I cracked it open to see what she wanted, and her icy blue eyes were so close it made me jump.


“Don’t forget about the lunch today,” she said.

“What lunch?” I threw my arms up. She was wasting my time. 

She stepped back away from the door.

“The lunch,” she said as she continued to move farther back into the living room.

“You better not be trying to get out of it!” Rosalina yelled from the kitchen.

“Yeah, we suffer, you suffer,” Kate said, walking towards the entryway.

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

I closed the door to the bathroom and took a deep breath. The meeting. That’s where my focus needed to be. I kept telling myself to stay positive, but I knew I was toast. Everything over before it even started. I had this one opportunity to try and make it right. 

I just hoped I didn’t blow it.

Harlow Hayes was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. She has always had a passion for writing and storytelling in its many forms, and when she’s not immersed in her writing, she enjoys reading both fiction and non-fiction, watching movies, and listening to music. She currently lives in Chattanooga, TN. 27 Revelations is her first novel.


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Walk Of Shame Excerpt Reveal + Giveaway 

The City’s HOTTEST Cold War!


a Love Unexpectedly novel

Lauren Layne

Releasing April 18th, 2017


Sparks fly between a misunderstood New York socialite and a cynical divorce lawyer in this lively standalone rom-com from the USA Today bestselling author of Blurred Lines and Love Story.

Pampered heiress Georgianna Watkins has a party-girl image to maintain, but all the shopping and clubbing is starting to feel a little bit hollow—and a whole lot lonely. Though Georgie would never admit it, the highlights of her week are the mornings when she comes home at the same time as her uptight, workaholic neighbor is leaving to hit the gym and put in a long day at the office. Teasing him is the most fun Georgie’s had in years—and the fuel for all her naughtiest daydreams.

Celebrity divorce attorney Andrew Mulroney doesn’t have much time for women, especially spoiled tabloid princesses who spend more time on Page Six than at an actual job. Although Georgie’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s also everything Andrew resents: the type of girl who inherited her penthouse instead of earning it. But after Andrew caps one of their predawn sparring sessions with a surprise kiss—a kiss that’s caught on camera—all of Manhattan is gossiping about whether they’re a real couple. And nobody’s more surprised than Andrew to find that the answer just might be yes.


Tuesday morning

Let’s talk about five a.m. for a second.

Also known as the worst hour of the day, am I right?

Here’s why:

If you’re awake to see five in the freaking morning, it means one of a few things, all of them heinous.

Scenario one: You’re on your way to the airport for an early morning flight. Heinous.

Scenario two: You’ve been out all night, and now your vodka buzz is fading, and you’re just sober enough to realize that the rest of your day will likely involve Excedrin, carbs, and indoor voices. Heinous.

Scenario three: You’ve got a crap-ton on your mind, and you’re lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, hating your life. Maybe hating yourself a little bit, I dunno, who am I to judge? Heinous.

Now brace yourself, because scenario four is the most heinous of them all: You’re awake at five a.m. because you’re an uptight prick whose schedule is even more rigid than your posture, and your life is an endless string of working out, the corner office, repeat. You’re also likely the type of person who subsists on protein shakes and kale smoothies, and you have been known to utter the phrase the body is a temple, thus solidifying what we already knew about you.

You have no friends.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

See, it’s five a.m., and I, Georgie Watkins, am . . . kind of excited about it.

I know. I know. Four months ago I’d have bet my favorite vintage Chanel bag that there was exactly zero chance I’d actually look forward to the ghoulish hour of five in the morning.

And yet here we are.

I guess you could say there’s a scenario five on reasons to be up this early.

“Good morning, Ramon,” I sing, pushing through the revolving doors of the luxury high-rise on 56th and Park, the place I call home.

The concierge/security guard/all-around good guy glances up and gives me a friendly smile. “Ms. Watkins. Good morning.”

Usually the massive front desk is a bustling, busy affair. Starting at around seven, an army of well-dressed concierges will be smoothly facilitating the needs of impatient residents, as tiny dogs let out sharp, high-pitched barks of greeting from their Louis Vuitton carriers.

But that’s later.

Right now, the luxurious lobby is mostly silent, with just the lone overnight guy working the front desk, holding down the fort until the day guys arrive to handle the morning crush.

My new Tory Burch clutch tucked into my armpit, I hold up the box in my hands and waggle my eyebrows. “Brought you something.”

Ramon’s smile grows wider, brown eyes lighting. “My wife says you’re going to make me fat.”

“Tell Marta that the dad bod is totally in style right now,” I say, setting the box of donuts on the counter and lifting the lid. “Unless, of course, you don’t want a maple bacon donut?”

Ramon is already reaching inside the box, shaking his head in reverence as he lifts the sugary treat. “Still warm.”

“Well, technically the shop doesn’t open until five, but I’m such a loyal customer, they let me in a bit early,” I say, surveying the array of donuts and trying to decide if I’m in a chocolate kind of mood or if I want to risk the powdered sugar one.

Since my Alexander McQueen minidress is black (the archnemesis of powdered sugar), I reach for the chocolate as I set my clutch on the counter and fish out my phone: 4:58 a.m.

Two more minutes.

“How’s Marta dealing with the pregnancy of baby number three?” I ask, taking a bite of the donut and shifting attention back to Ramon, who’s already polished off his donut and is contemplating a second. I nudge the box toward him.

“She’s good,” he says. “Excited that we’re finally having a girl.”

“A girl!” I say, reaching across the counter and squeezing his massive forearm. “Congratulations, I hadn’t heard!”

“Just found out yesterday,” he says with a happy smile, apparently deciding that the occasion calls for another donut.

“Oh my gosh, I have the perfect baby gift,” I say, nibbling at a piece of my donut. “I saw this adorable Burberry onesie in Bergdorf’s the other day, with this precious little red bow—”

“Yes, because that’s what every infant needs,” a low voice interrupts. “A four-hundred-dollar piece of fabric that needs to be dry-cleaned. Don’t be ridiculous, Georgiana.”

I don’t have to look at my clock to know what time it is.

Five o’clock.

On the dot.

Not even bothering to turn around, I roll my eyes as my red nails tear off another piece of donut and pop it into my mouth. “Ramon, do you think you could talk to maintenance about adjusting the temp? It just got a little cold in here.”

Ramon’s been working here long enough to know my request isn’t for real. He’s not even paying attention to me. He’s already set his donut aside and has straightened up, practically saluting the newcomer.

“Mr. Mulroney. Good morning, sir.”

“Mr. Ramirez.” The voice is low and serious, a touch impatient, although not quite rude.

You know that adage that you catch more flies with honey? I’m not so sure it’s true. I bring donuts to the front desk guys just about every morning, and they adore me. I know they do.

But they respect him.

Giving in to the inevitable, I finally let my eyes flick to the side, my gaze colliding with a stern brown scowl.

I put on my widest, sparkliest smile, only because I know it drives him crazy.

As always, I see a muscle in his jaw twitch as I flutter my eyelashes.

“Good morning, Andrew,” I say sweetly.


I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Only my late grandmother has ever called me that, and I’m pretty sure that’s because I was her namesake. Everyone else calls me Georgie. Well, okay, not everyone. Ramon and the other guys still insist on calling me Ms. Watkins, but I’m working on it. See: daily donuts.

I smile wider and push the box in Andrew’s direction. “Donut?”

His lip curls. In case you haven’t already gotten a read on this guy, he’s the type that sneers at donuts.

He lifts a boring black travel mug. “Already have my breakfast.”

“Blended-up quinoa sprinkled with a few bits of spinach and pretension?” I ask.

“Whey powder protein shake.”

“Sounds immensely satisfying.”

He takes a sip of the nastiness and watches me with cold brown eyes. “The body is a temple, Georgiana.”

There it is.

Full circle to my above commentary about what sort of people are up and about at five a.m.

Lauren Layne is the New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen romantic comedies.

A former e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to New York City in 2011 to pursue a full-time writing career.

She lives in midtown Manhattan with her high-school sweetheart, where she writes smart romantic comedies with just enough sexy-times to make your mother blush. In LL’s ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books. 

Win an Audio Book CD set of the Oxford Series by Lauren Layne, including IRRESISTIBLY YOURS, I WISH YOU WERE MINE and SOMEONE LIKE YOU.
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Halayda Release Blitz + Giveaway

About the Book

Title: Halayda

Author: Sarah Delena White

Genre: Mythology / Steampunk

A mortal alchemist. A faerie king. A bond that transcends death.

Betrayed by a trusted mentor, Sylvie Imanthiya hides on the fringes of society, caring for half-fae orphans and trading her alchemical creations on the black market. She lives for the one night each season when she can see her dearest friend—a man whose destiny is far above hers.

King Taylan Ashkalabek knows better than to exchange halayda vows with a mortal. Even their friendship is a risk; love is an impossible dream. Then a brutal alchemical attack poisons his realm, unearthing a dark power within him—and leaving Sylvie with the ancient mark of Faerie’s savior.

Manifesting unpredictable abilities and aided by allies with their own secrets, Sylvie and Taylan journey into the wilds of Faerie to heal the damage and confront Casimir, an invincible star-fae determined to claim the realm as his own. But only their enemy knows Sylvie’s true capabilities—and Taylan’s weaknesses—and how to use them in his vicious schemes.

Her fate is life. His fate is death. With Faerie in the balance, Sylvie and Taylan must stand together before reality as they know it is destroyed.

Author Bio

Sarah Delena White writes eclectic speculative fiction that reworks mythology with a fine balance of poetry and snark. She’s an experienced world traveler who loves to weave world folklore and ancient concepts into vibrant, original story worlds. She is the Benevolent Firebird (acquisitions editor) for Uncommon Universes Press. When she’s not writing or editing, she can be found making jewelry, singing Irish ballads, drinking tea, and working a variety of odd jobs. She can be bribed with dark chocolate.

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Where Good Girls Go To Die Cover Reveal + Giveaway 

Cover Design: Regina Wamba / Mae I Design & Photography

Release Date: April 13, 2017



It was a bad idea from the beginning.

He was my brother’s best friend and the definition of unavailable.

But I didn’t care.

I had loved him for as long as I could remember.

He was worth the risk. He was worth everything.

But then he broke my heart as easily as I fell for him. He watched me fall, spiraling out of control, and as I reached for him, he wasn’t there to catch me.

So I ran.

Four years later, I never expected to see him again.

He was still my brother’s best friend, and he was more unavailable than ever.

He looked every bit the bad boy I knew he was, covered in tattoos and a crooked smile.

Guarding my heart from him was top priority because Parker James was where good girls go to die.

Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t a good girl anymore.








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About the Author

Bookaholic, firm believer in grand gestures, and obsessed with happily ever afters.

Holly Renee is from the small town of Maryville, TN where she was born and raised. She currently lives with her husband and fur baby, Luna. (Yes. She was named after Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter.)

Holly Renee is the author of her debut novel Letting Go.

During the day, Holly spends her time as a nurse, but once her shift ends, she falls deep into her passion of reading and writing.


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