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Saturday, 31 December 2016

Brake Failure by Alison Brodie BLOG TOUR


 Title: Brake Failure
By: Alison Brodie
Publication Date: January 9, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Brake Failure is a contemporary romance with a kick-ass heroine. The story is set in one of the most fascinating periods of America's history: the months leading up to Y2K "melt-down." "Is it too late to tell him you love him when you're looking down the barrel of his gun?" Ruby Mortimer-Smyth is an English debutante, destined for Lady’s Day at Ascot and taking tea at The Savoy. She knows the etiquette for every occasion and her soufflés NEVER collapse. She is in control of her life, tightly in control. Until fate dumps her down in … Kansas. Ruby believes that life is like a car; common-sense keeps it on the road, passion sends it into a ditch. What she doesn't know is, she's on a collision course with Sheriff Hank Gephart. Sheriff Hank Gephart can judge a person. Miss Mortimer-Smyth might act like the Duchess of England but just under the surface there's something bubbling, ready to explode. She's reckless, and she's heading for brake failure. And he's not thinking about her car. With the Millennium approaching, Ruby gets caught up in the Y2K hysteria. She joins a group of Survivalists, who give her a gun and advise her to stockpile basic essentials, such as gasoline and water-purifying tablets. So she bulk-buys Perrier, Gentleman's Relish and macaroons. Ruby, far from home, is making Unsuitable Friends and "finding herself" for the first time. She falls in with a gang of Hells Angels and falls foul of the law. At every turn, she comes up hard against Sheriff Hank Gephart, whose blue eyes seem to look deep into her soul. She desperately wants him but knows she can never have him. She's angry at the emotions he arouses in her. Pushed to her limit, she bursts from her emotional straightjacket. As the clock strikes midnight of the new Millennium, she's on a freight train with three million dollars, a bottle of Wild Turkey and a smoking gun. What happened to Miss Prim-and-Proper? And why did she shoot Mr Right? ______ Note: Alison Brodie wrote this story from first-hand experience. She lived in Kansas during this time and was stunned by the hysteria, unnerved that the US government was spending $150 billion preparing for Armageddon. As Lionel Shriver says in "We have to Talk About Kevin": '1999, a year widely mooted beforehand as the end of the world.'

What Others Are Saying

5 * “OMG…I freakin’ LOVED this book…going on the list of one of my favorites of 2016.” –Star Angels Reviews 5* “Everyone needs to read this book. It’s blooming brilliant.” –The Reading Shed 5* “Hilarious.” -Lauren Sapala, Book Reviewer and Writers’ Coach. 5* “A laugh-out-tale that will keep you flipping the pages as fast as possible.” –Tome Tender 5* “Empowering…comical…refreshing.” –San Francisco Book Review
Pre Order Your Copy NOW!
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That afternoon, Ruby parked outside Shady Acres. She couldn’t wait for Gephart to ask her out on a date. Then she could tell him she was married. Ha!
He sat in reception. In full uniform. Why couldn’t he have changed into civilian clothes? Now he would make her look like an offender. Or was that his intention? Just because she’d put a few scratches in his police car.
‘Hi, Ruby.’ He stood up, crushing a plastic cup in one hand and tossing it in the bin.
She stared pointedly down at his belt. ‘Are you going to put me in handcuffs?’ she asked sarcastically.
He winked. ‘Not if you’re good.’
Ruby blushed. Why was it that every time she gazed into his eyes, she felt as if a hand was pressing down on her chest? She was only thankful that once she started reading to the old lady, Hank Gephart would go.
The receptionist was busy dealing with two elderly gentlemen, so Ruby and Hank had to wait to sign-in. Ruby felt strangely jittery in the big man’s presence. She only wished he wouldn’t stand so close. She inched further along the reception counter and, wanting to hide her nervousness, started squaring up the brochures into neat piles.
He came closer. ‘Ruby, I don’t like you mixing with Hells Angels.’
She felt his warm breath on her cheek. ‘Is there a law against that?’ Refusing to look at him, she picked up a brochure and found herself reading about incontinence.
‘No, but-’
‘Then, presumably, I have the freedom to choose with whom I associate?’
‘Yeah, but I’m warning you-’
Warning you. Angrily, she grabbed up another brochure and flicked through it at speed, false teeth and hearing-aids flashing by. ‘Why do you have to be so aggressive? Why can’t you say, “may I suggest?”’
‘Okay.’ He rested his arm along the counter and leant towards her. His eyes were blue, very blue. ‘May I suggest you keep away from them?’
‘No, you may-!’ She stopped abruptly. A matronly nurse was hovering beside them.
‘Well, Hank,’ the nurse said gaily. ‘Is this your lady friend you’ve been telling us about?’
Hank beamed down at Ruby with proprietary pride. ‘It sure is.’
‘I’m not his lady friend,’ Ruby mumbled.
‘Nice to meet you, Ruby,’ the nurse said. ‘I’m Amy.’ She beckoned with a finger as if tempting two small well-behaved children to an exciting treat. ‘If you want to come along, Mrs Amstruther is waiting.’
As they walked along the corridor, Ruby noticed two pretty nurses break off from their conversation to study her. She sensed that Hank had been gossiping about her. She caught up with Amy, determined to quash whatever rumours were flying around. ‘I am not at all familiar with Geph- I mean, Hank.’
The nurse stopped at a door and knocked. ‘I love your accent.’
Ruby persisted. ‘I have merely bumped into him on various occasions.’
‘We know.’ The nurse winked and opened the door. ‘You two go on in.’
As Ruby spluttered indignantly, Hank took her by the elbow. ‘Mrs Amstruther?’ he called. ‘I’ve brought my friend to meet you.’
‘Come in, come in,’ a quavery voice replied.
Ruby stepped across the threshold and froze.
Mrs Amstruther was blind.
The old lady was sat up in bed, dressed in a faded, flower-print bed-jacket, her eyes wrapped in bandages; her skin appeared almost translucent, the pink skull showing beneath a mop of dazzling white hair. She smiled sweetly, reaching out a tentative hand.
Ruby felt a pang. Mrs Amstruther shouldn’t be here; she should be in a cottage-garden in Devon with a wicker table laden with a cream tea and a vase of freshly cut delphiniums; and surrounded by her grandchildren.
‘Dear Hank,’ Mrs Amstruther murmured. Ruby stepped forward, and put her hand in the old woman’s. ‘Hello, I’m Ruby.’
‘Oh, how lovely to hear an English voice! You’re so kind, Ruby; volunteering to read to a boring old lady like me.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
‘Hank didn’t bully you, I hope?’ Mrs Amstruther said in mock gravity.
With an ache of sadness, Ruby gazed down at the old woman so far from home - a home she would never again see. Ruby realised the childish bickering between her and Gephart was pathetic. The discord she had brought into the room, evaporated. ‘I didn’t need to be bullied. I was delighted with Hank for asking me.’
‘Do take a seat, Ruby, dear,’ the old woman said.
Ruby pulled an armchair closer to the bed. The room was sunny, the walls covered in framed photographs of children at the seaside. Beyond the window, at the far perimeter of a vast lawn, a freight train rumbled passed, the melancholic blast of its horn fading into the distance. Gephart, too, was watching it.
Mrs Armstruther’s hand was searching the rumpled bedding. ‘Ruby, could you possibly read a few pages of Wind in the Willows? My son loved it when he was little.’ She brought out a book from under the covers. ‘It’s so annoying not being able to see. Thankfully the bandages come off at the end of the month.’
‘So it’s not …?’
‘What, dear?’
‘Permanent?’ Ruby asked, taking the book.
‘Oh, no, it’s just cataracts; the curse of old age.’
Ruby, discovering the old woman would recover her sight, felt a lightness of spirit; felt she could embrace all her fellow beings - including Hank. He was standing, studying the photos on the wall. Catching his eye, she smiled at him, tilting her head towards the door, a silent message that he could leave.
He wrinkled his brow, evidently unable to gauge her meaning.
She tried again, running her fingers through the air towards the door.
He gave her a stupid look.
‘Are you going?’ she mouthed silently.
He nodded to signify that he understood. Then he shook his head, walked over to the armchair by the window, sat down and rested his hands squarely on his knees.
He was obviously staying.
‘Have you ever read Wind in the Willows, Ruby?’ Mrs Amstruther asked.
‘Yes, years ago.’
The old lady laughed. ‘Mole is delightful, isn’t he? Who is your favourite character?’
‘Toad. I loved it when he dressed up as a woman to escape the police.’ Ruby instantly regretted the words. ‘Of course, I don’t identify with Toad,’ she added hastily, forcing herself not to look at Gephart. ‘I just think he’s a loveable rascal.’
‘Isn’t he just!’ Mrs Amstruther settled back to enjoy the story, and Ruby began:
‘“The Mole had been working hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home …”’
Why is P.C. Plod hanging about anyway? Surely he’s not interested in riverbank creatures.
‘“First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash till he had dust in his throat and eyes and splashes of white-wash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms …”’
He’s staring at me; I know he is.
‘“Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below …’”
This was too much! Ruby glared at him. ‘Haven’t you got a murder to solve?’
‘What?’ Mrs Amstruther jerked in confusion.
Ruby was appalled by her thoughtlessness. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Amstruther, I was talking to Hank. You see, I don’t want to keep him from his work.’
He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. He was obviously taking delight in her embarrassment. ‘I’m off-duty,’ he said.
For the sake of the old lady, Ruby had to speak sweetly, but there was nothing stopping her from raking the man from head to foot with hostile eyes. ‘Do you always wear uniform when you’re off-duty?’
‘I do when I haven’t had time to get to my locker and change.’
She couldn’t bear to look at that smug face a second longer. She snatched up the book and continued to read. ‘“Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below-’” She stopped in confusion, her cheeks a fiery red.
‘Oh, I’ve read that bit already.’
She could sense him laughing at her. And he was!
He stood up, his eyes dancing mischievously. ‘I’ve got a feeling Ruby can’t concentrate with me here. I’m flustering her pretty little head.’
Her relief that he was going was rapidly replaced by horror. That awful man was insinuating she fancied him! As he passed by, he bent and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby … Sweet Cheeks,’ he said softly, squeezing her shoulder.
Wide-eyed and apoplectic, she watched him walk to the door.
‘He’s such a lovely man,’ Mrs Amstruther said after he had gone.
Ruby couldn’t trust herself to speak.
‘The nurses say he’s very handsome. Is he?’
Ruby was still pinning the door with a look of fury. ‘O-h-h, you don’t want to know what I think.’
She picked up the book, her decision made.
She was no longer angry; in fact, she was rather jubilant. Like any institution, this building would have a goods delivery entrance. Well, Gephart, she thought complacently. You’re about to have a long wait because Sweet Cheeks, here, is going out the back.
Alison Brodie is a Scot, with French Huguenot ancestors on her mother’s side of the family.  Alison was a photographic model, modelling for a wide range of products, including Ducatti motorbikes and 7Up.  She was also the vampire in the Schweppes commercial. 
A disastrous modelling assignment in the Scottish Highlands gave Alison an idea for a story, which was to become Face to Face.  She wrote Face to Face as a hobby and then decided to send it off to see what would happen.  It was snapped up by Dinah Wiener, the first agent Alison sent it to.  Three weeks later, Alison signed a two-book deal with Hodder & Stoughton.  Subsequently, Face to Face was published in Germany and Holland.  It was widely reviewed, ie:  “Vain, but wildly funny leading lady.” -Scottish Daily Mail.  It was also chosen as Good Housekeeping’s “Pick of the Paperbacks.” 
Unfortunately, Alison then suffered from Second-Book Syndrome.  The publisher’s deadline loomed and she was terrified because she didn’t have an idea for a story!  She found the whole experience a nightmare; and this is why she cautions first-time authors to write more than one book before approaching an agent.  She managed to finish the book – Sweet Talk – but it bombed.
While writing Sweet Talk, she moved to Kansas and lived there for two years.  She loved the people, their friendliness, their free-and-easy way of life, the history and the BBQs!  Sadly, her visa ran out and she had to come back to the UK – although her dream is to one day live permanently in America.  Now, Alison lives in Biarritz, France.
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Friday, 30 December 2016

Satisfaction by Jeanne McDonald BLOG TOUR


  Title: Satisfaction Series: Taking Chances #2
By: Jeanne McDonald
Publication Date: January 4, 2017
Genre: Romance
Are you interested in receiving a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review on Goodreads/Amazon?
You can sign up - HERE
Brix Johnson is the kind of guy a girl brings home to meet her parents. The reserved intellect. The handsome boy next door. The wealthy yoga instructor. He’s also the guy haunted by the mysterious woman who gave him the best sex of his life, yet refused to give him her name. With his bombshell no more than a memory, he does what any normal, sexually frustrated man would do ─ he returns to Indulgence. At Indulgence, a yearly, invitation only, New Year’s Eve erotic masquerade party, Brix can shed his typical persona for one night, and be anyone he wants to be. Lucky for him, the women at Indulgence don’t require conversation. They simply want hardcore sex. But when his past sneaks into his fantasy, can he cope with reality or will he walk away from pure satisfaction?
~~PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY NOW~~
All around me, tiny clusters of people huddled together, laughing, chatting, and enjoying themselves. I glanced around, watching the wild and excited groups conversing. Not that I was eavesdropping, Nanna would’ve disapproved, but I did rather enjoy listening to them retell their sexual exploits. I relished in the idea that none of them could add to their list that they’d just walked away from the best sex of their lives and would never look back. I propped my elbows on the bar and watched as a pretty, petite bartender with seductive curves made her rounds down the line. In the traditional garb of an old barkeep, the young woman wore garters around her arms and a bowler hat on her head. A white mask pressed into her caramel mocha skin, covering down to her button nose. Her plump lips were painted black, adding a dramatic effect to her ensemble. She glanced in my direction, smiled and lifted a finger to signal to me she’d be with me soon. I spread my lips in a confident grin and graced her with a wink. She cocked her head to the side, her eyebrow shooting up over her mask against the hat. That expression alone caused me to laugh. That’s right, sweetheart. I’m flirting with you.
Jeanne McDonald enjoys writing contemporary fiction filled with spice, romance, drama, and humor. She prides herself in being a mother, a wife, a student of knowledge and of life, a coffee addict, a philosophy novice, a pop culture connoisseur, inspired by music, encouraged by words, and a believer in true love. Jeanne is the founder of the author co-op, Enchanted Publications, and is an avid supporter of autism awareness. When she's not spending time with her family, she can be found reading, writing, enjoying a great film, or diligently working toward her bachelor's degree in literature. A proud Texan, Jeanne currently resides in the Dallas/Fort Worth area with her family. You can learn more about Jeanne and her books at www.jeannemcdonald.com.
Where to find her:

School by a Senior by K Webster COVER REVEAL


Schooled by a Senior

by K. Webster Publication Date: January 9, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Aut Banks is brilliant bad boy with a chip on his shoulder. Mrs. Macmillan is a substitute teacher way in over her head. When they're forced to work together, the sexual tension is off the charts. Will the teacher remain professional or will she be schooled in a lesson on sex by a filthy boy who barely fits in his desk?

About K. Webster

K Webster2
 K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers. Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen. You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads! Website: www.authorkwebster.com Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bllgoP

HATE STORY by Nicole Williams BLOG TOUR





















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Nina can’t let herself fall in love with the man she’s going to marry. Both of them have experienced the sting and sham of love and have no intentions of falling victim to it twice. Love is expensive—hate is free.

Three years. A million dollars. A solution to both of their problems. They planned it all, from the story of their first meeting to the date of their divorce. Nothing could go wrong.

But what they didn’t consider was chemistry, and Nina and Max have no shortage of it. After too many near-kisses, Nina convinces herself that hating Max is better than loving him, and the more she gets to know this soon-to-be-husband of hers, the more she discovers just how very much she truly, madly, and deeply . . . hates him.

This isn’t a love story. This is the other kind.















He hadn’t stopped smiling at me, and it wasn’t the friendly kind of smile. It was the kind that made it seem like he was in on some secret I wasn’t privy to. The kind of smile that made me feel like I was being trifled with and made the punch line of a hundred jokes I had yet to hear.
I wanted to wipe the cocky smile off his face, but that would have required touching him and even I wasn’t gutsy enough for that. A woman did not touch a guy like him unless she wanted him to be her undoing. Nope. You didn’t play with fire. You didn’t touch it. You didn’t even come close.
Fire. That was all I saw when I looked at him. I was playing with it by agreeing to this kind of arrangement with him.
Even the way he lounged in the chair was smug. Like it was his throne and he was just waiting for minions to come bow before him.
“You’re younger than I thought you’d be.” He broke the silence first.
Though it was faint, I could just make out an accent. It was European, but I couldn’t nail down the country. To look at the bastard, you’d think he was Scandinavian—blond hair, blue eyes, commanding frame—but his accent was too sharp to hail from the land of Vikings.
I was tempted to glare at the tipped smile aimed at me, but I didn’t want to lead him to the impression I cared. I gave him my version of the same smile, abandoning my “no expectations” policy for the prospect of pissing him off. “You’re older than I thought you’d be.”
His smile shifted into the realm of a smirk, like he knew I was lying. So yeah, maybe I was lying about thinking he was older, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of confirming his silent accusation. He was older than me, but not by much. He might have been closing in on thirty, but he wasn’t past it.
He leaned forward in the chair. When his gaze circled my face to my fiery red hair, his brow elevated. Yes, I am the stereotype. Be warned.
“Prettier too.”
I stiffened. He was fucking with me now. I’d already agreed to marry him. How much more did he think he could screw me over?
I gave him a cursory glance and kept the unaffected look on my face. “Uglier.”
He cocked a brow like he knew better. “And the personality of ten women rolled into one.”
“Intimidated?”
His head shook once. “Intrigued.”
“Irritated?”
His eyes investigated me again. It felt intrusive, definitely not cursory. “Impressed.”
“As impressed by me as the woman in heat who was just mauling you over by the bar?”
“You mean the woman who gave me this?” He pulled something out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and set it on the small table between us.
It was a hotel card key. With a lipstick kiss pressed into it.
“Classy place, this five-star hotel.” I glanced back at the woman at the bar. She was still there, watching him as though he was the height of the male species. “Did you tell her the reason you were here?”
His attention stayed on me. “Yes, I told her I was here to meet the woman I was going to marry.”
My stomach wrung. This was the man I was going to marry.
Holy shit.
“And she didn’t ask for her room key back?” I asked.
“She didn’t give it to me until right after I mentioned that.” His stare was intense. Too intense. I felt like every secret—every piece of who I was—was strewn out on that table for him to see. “Women love a man who isn’t afraid of commitment. It’s like an aphrodisiac.”
“You know what else women like?” I didn’t pause for an answer because I guessed he didn’t have a clue. “A man who’s humble.”
He fought a smile and leaned back in his chair when a server approached with a couple of drinks on a tray. “No, they like to think they do, but they don’t.” His head shook authoritatively. “They like the cocky bastard who goes after what he wants and doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Because the server was shielding some of me from his view, I allowed myself to shift. I was getting fired up, and if he kept saying the same kinds of things with the same kinds of looks on his face, that drink was going to wind up in his face.
That was when I noticed what the server had set in front of me. A tumbler with something amber in color. The same thing she was setting in front of him. Although from the curve of her smile, she was offering to give him a blow job on the side, compliments of the house.
“What is this?” I asked. Him. Her. Whoever wanted to answer.
“Scotch,” he answered, ignoring the server lingering between us.
My nose curled at the drink.
“Expensive scotch.”
“I don’t care if it came from the fountain of youth. I won’t drink it.”
His forehead creased with what appeared to be irritation, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was confusion, like he couldn’t decide what to make of me. “You would have me believe you wouldn’t take a sip of that if you knew it would give you eternal life?” When I shook my head, his head tipped. “Why?”
“Because I value my free will far more than long life.” I pushed the drink away until it clinked against his. “I’d rather live one day free than an eternity in a cage.”
He was quiet for a moment. The server stayed between us, staring at him, waiting.
“Then why are you here?” he asked me finally.
I leaned forward and hoped my stare was as powerful as his. “Because free will is expensive.”

























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Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.
Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.





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Thursday, 29 December 2016

Deceit In Bloom by Jennifer Michael COVER REVEAL





Cautionary tales don’t usually have happy endings… Raised in foster care. The sister of a whore. The fool who fell for the wrong guy. Paisley James is all too aware that sometimes fairy tales just don’t exist. There is no telling where hearts belong or loyalties lie when deceit is in bloom. Author Note: Deceit in Bloom is book one of a series and ends in a BIG, dramatic cliffhanger (No joke). The story continues in book two, Vengeance in Bloom



 As a child, Jennifer Michael dreamed of being an author. Life and adulting eventually pushed that dream down to a mere fantasy, which was where it stayed for years. Then, through a stroke of luck and a Kindle, she found the indie romance world, and the dream that was long ago deemed unattainable became a reality. Writing fulfills pieces of her she lost long ago. Jennifer writes stories that range from sweet and sultry to dark and daring. Behind her computer, she’s constantly dreaming up where she’ll go, what new characters she’ll meet along the way, and what genre she will concur next. From her house in southwest Florida, she spends far too much time wishing she were at the beach with a good book. She’s an avid reader of fiction, but is a huge fan of gritty stories with deep emotion or dark twisty plot twists. She’s also known to indulge in guilty pleasure television shows. She gets sucked into the world of characters from all mediums. She loves to hear from her readers so make sure to check her out on social media.