Friday, February 27, 2015

Cover Reveal - Boy Toy Chronicles by Jay McLean


Title: Boy Toy Chronicles 
Author: Jay McLean 
Genre: New Adult Romantic Humor
Release Date: March 3rd
Add ToGoodreads
Cover Design: Cover It Designs



Synopsis 

"So…I came up with a plan. 
I sat the brothers down and gave them my speech; we’d become male escorts. 

The house was split. 
The single dudes thought it was great. The guys with the steady girlfriends told the single dudes they were insane. 
I promised them all we could make it work without hurting anybody. But we had to be smart about it. We had to keep it off campus. We had to keep it a secret. And in order to do so, we had to target those who wanted it kept a secret as much as we did. 
Our target: Filthy rich, unsatisfied, horny housewives. 
Keep it high class, so to speak. 
And thus began BTC, or Boy Toy Corporation.
Crazy, right?
Crazy genius.”

-Tyler West.

Teaser 




Author Bio: 

Jay McLean is the author of the More Than Series, including More Than This, More Than Her, More Than Him and More Than Forever. She also has two standalones coming soon titled Where the Road Takes Me, and Combative.
Jay is an avid reader, writer, and most of all, procrastinator. When she’s not doing any of those things, she can be found running after her two little boys, or devouring some tacky reality TV show.

She writes what she loves to read, which are books that can make her laugh, make her smile, make her hurt, and make her feel.

You can follow Jay on Instagram and twitter. You can also find her on her blog where you can subscribe to her newsletter and get teasers and updates first hand, her Facebook page or her fan group on Facebook, or you can contact Jay directly at jay@jaymcleanauthor.com


 Connect with Jay McLean

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Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Very Twisted Things by Ilsa Madden Mills Sneak Peak


 
Sneak Peek: Prologue + Chapter 1
Very Twisted Things
A Standalone Briarcrest Academy Novel #3
by New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Release Date: March 1, 2015
This is a standalone New Adult novel with graphic sex and language.
Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!
  A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown. Description:   Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.   But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.   After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.   Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.   He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.   When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.   Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.
 
 Prologue  

Violet

  “Fairy dust is not real. This I know.” —from the journal of Violet St. Lyons   Boom! I, Violet St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust. At the very least, comet residue. I’d foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death. Which was now. Boom! Another explosion rocked the plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished. Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss. I watched, helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of the New York Times featured pictures of us on a monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane. Reality dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on schedule. Then the first explosion had gone off. Bits of debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace. Fear and then horror flickered across his face as he saw Mother, but there was no time to comfort him. Paralyzed in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Just then my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit. God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left. Would the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me? The air was turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger, faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan. Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly. My fear escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone. Water everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left. I swam from my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding. Burning. I’d been under too long. Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt above me and kicked harder. Up, up, up. Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it. Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the water. The hottest fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching. Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to the top. Please. My body rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and more, the cold liquid filling my lungs. Dark spots filled my eyes. This was drowning. Exhausted. Done. My body twitched. I grew disoriented. I let go of the fight. My hands floated in front of me. Oblivion. Darkness. No bright lights, no tunnel. No heaven, no mother, no father. No comets. No fairy dust.    


Chapter 1  

Sebastian

Two years later   “She was music with skin.” —Sebastian Tate   I tapped my foot. What was taking her so long? From my backyard patio in the Hollywood Hills, I watched the odd girl next door with a pair of high-powered binoculars. She flicked on her porch lights, and a low whistle came out of me at the sexy red-as-sin robe she wore, its silky material flashing around her long legs as she moved around her patio. Her hair was down, too. This was new. Where were the usual yoga pants? The ponytail? She looked like she knew someone watched, but that was impossible since our outside lights were off. Even the light from the moon hit our house at such an angle that she shouldn’t be able to see us just by glancing over. She’d need a high-powered lens to know I was here. Usually she played facing her rose garden, but this time she walked to the right side of her patio, which faced us. Weird. But she didn’t play. She just stood there without moving. Staring toward our house. Uneasiness went over me. What was she doing? Could she see me? As if it were a fragile bird, she positioned the violin under her chin and began playing, arms bent and wrist poised, making the most exquisite sounds. And I don’t mean classical like Beethoven or Mozart; I mean body-thrashing, blood-thumping, hard-as-hell music that had me rooted to the ground, like she’d slapped iron chains on me. Dark and seductive notes rose up in the air, and I got jacked up, recognizing a Led Zeppelin song, only she’d ripped its guts out and twisted it into something electric. She pushed the bow hard, upping the tempo abruptly, her movements controlled yet wild. My pulse kicked up and my eyes lingered, taking in the slightly parted toned legs and the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her arms to manipulate the strings. Her body arched forward in a curve, seeming as if she might break into a million pieces before she finished the piece or climaxed first. Then, her robe slipped off her right shoulder, exposing part of her breast. Creamy and full, it quivered, vibrating as she moved her arms. Her rosy nipple teased me, slipping in and out of the folds of the material, erect from the cool mountain air and deliciously bitable. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her like my guitar until she begged me to— Stop, I told myself just as an appreciative groan came out. Whoever Violin Girl was, she didn’t deserve me lusting after her while she was pouring her heart out with music. I zoomed in as far as the binoculars would go, watching her surrender to the music as she bent and swayed from side to side with her eyes closed, black lashes like fans on her cheeks. Every molecule in my body focused on her, hanging on to each note she pulled from her instrument. She finished and kept her head bowed for the longest time, perhaps letting the emotion wash over her like it had me. Then, she bowed to the banana trees and gnomes in her garden, waving her hands in a flourish as she rose. The entire event was surreal, yet poignant as fucking poetry. I let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Who the hell plays Stairway to Heaven with a violin? She did. Bam! She snapped her head up, her eyes lasering in on mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention. And then … Standing there in the moonlight, she untied her robe and spread apart the sides ever so slightly, her movements seeming almost hesitant, as if she’d had to work herself up. Unfamiliar jealousy hit me and I panned out and checked the rest of the patio, expecting to see a lover. Whoever it was, I wanted to rip him apart piece by piece. And didn’t that thought surprise me. My gaze searched her patio, the backyard, her upstairs balcony. Nothing. No one. She flicked her dark hair back and stroked the lapels of the robe, her fingers lingering over the lacy material. Suddenly the evening smacked of something more than just music. Her arms moved back and forth across the front, opening the robe halfway and then closing it as if she couldn’t make up her mind. My eyes went up, trying to read her face. Still as a statue, the only movement was her mouth as it trembled, her full upper lip resting against the pouty lower one. Tears ran down her face, but they seemed more of a defiant act, her jaw tightly set, her shoulders hunched inward as if she’d held it in too long and was giving in, but not without a fight. Violin Girl was trapped in a cage of darkness. It still didn’t stop me from holding my breath, silently begging her to bare herself to me. She’d already laid bare her music. Part of me needed the rest of her. She jerked the robe closed, making me groan in disappointment. And then she did something completely crazy. The lonely girl next door flipped me the bird. © Ilsa Madden-Mills 2015 Very Twisted Things


 


Author Bio   New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.   She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.   When she's not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.   She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.





BUY HER BOOKS HERE: http://amzn.to/1qNbF3y   Social Media   Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorilsamaddenmills   Twitter: @ilsamaddenmills Instagram: http://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/   Website: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com/   Instagram: http://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/  





Friday, February 20, 2015

Cover Reveal ~ MANWHORE +1 by Katy Evans

MANWHORE +1
The unexpected love story that began in MANWHORE 
continues heating up the pages in MANWHORE + 1
Release date: July 7, 2015




Billionaire playboy? Check. 
Ruthless businessman? Check. 
Absolutely sinful? Check.

Malcolm Saint was an assignment. A story. A beautiful, difficult man I was supposed to uncover for a racy exposé.

I intended to reveal himhis secrets, his lifestyle—not let him reveal me. But my head was overtaken by my heart and suddenly nothing could stop me from falling. I fell for him, and I fell hard. 

Malcolm Saint is absolute Sin, and I've become a hopeless Sinner.

Now that the assignment is over, Saint wants something from me--something unexpected--and I want this wicked playboy's heart. But how can I prove to the man who trusts no one that I’m worthy of becoming his plus one?



Manwhore + 1 Pre-order Links (Releases 7/7)

Manwhore (bk 1) Pre-order links (Releases 3/24) 

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Blog Tour - Unexpected Fate by Harper Sloan


Title: Unexpected Fate
Author: Harper Sloan
Published: February 17th, 2015
Source: ARC provided for honest review


Meet Cohen & Danielle in the newest stand alone
in the Hope Town Series by Harper Sloan!





Synopsis
(Stand alone)
Have you ever felt like you were living your life for a future that was predetermined? Like there was some bigger picture you just prayed you would someday see clearly? That picture has been crystal clear to me since I was old enough to recognize it for just what it was.
Or I should say recognize him for who he was.
I’ve loved Cohen Cage since I was a small child. He’s been my everything for the last twenty-two years. I’ve loved him through every girlfriend he’s ever brought home. Through his college years and then mine. I’ve loved him through two deployments. And ever since the day I told him how I felt, he’s acted like I’m a stranger.
My name is Danielle Reid, and it’s time for me to get my man.
Our future is an unexpected fate, and no matter what our parents, siblings, and friends say…it’s going to be worth every second of the fight to make it happen.

My Review

EVERY DAMN BOOK. I am serious. Every Damn Book this women rights becomes my favorite. How is that possible? She just keeps getting better and better.

The writing : flows right off the paper

The characters: devlope perfectly and the side characters steal your heart. 

The plot: perfect. No extra filer, no over the top angst, no unneeded drama for your mama. THEY COMMUNICATED. Finally a book where the characters chose to talk instead of let a misunderstanding tear them apart. 

BRAV FUCKING O Harper You nailed that shit

The parents: I fell back in love with Axel Reid. He is an amazing father and husband. He is still over the top protective, but its endearing. 

COHEN CAGE : is fucking hot. The sex. is. fucking. hot. like off the charts in need a minute to compost myself and maybe change the panties a million times HOT. 

Dani: DUDE. I love how strong she was and how true she stayed to herself and Cohen. 

I caught myself laughing out loud so many times. Nate is hilarious. OMG. I totally want to bang him while a watching PORN in his bedroom. I'll totally be his cougar. Liam, I want a best friend like Liam. Seriously she wrote Dani and Liam perfectly. 

She couldn't have written this book any more perfect. WAIT. There was one thing she could have done. NEVER MAKE IT END. I want her books to be never ending. I want her to publish a book a day. It isn't fair that I have to wait so long for such superb writing.

HARPER SLOAN IS THE QUEEN OF EPILOGUES. I know. I say this every time, but she is seriously the queen of epilogues. She creates a world that you are so in love with that when you finish the book you are left sighing with happiness and you feel complete. I can't wait for the next book. 





About the Author:

Harper lives in small town Georgia just a short drive from her hometown of Peachtree City. She (and her 3 daughters) enjoy ruling the house they dubbed 'Estrogen Ocean', much to her husband’s chagrin. Harper has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books; you can almost ALWAYS find her with her eReader attached. She enjoys bad reality TV and cheesy romantic flicks. Her favorite kind of hero--the super alpha kind!


Harper started using writing as a way to unwind when the house went to sleep at night; and with a house full of crazy it was the perfect way to just relax. It didn't take long before a head full of very demanding alphas would stop at nothing to have their story told.







$50 Gift Card (2 Winners)