Blog Tour {Review, Excerpt & Giveaway}: Finding You by Kelly Harper

How far would you go?
When Sarah moved away from her hometown to go to college she thought she was doing it to be with her boyfriend Huck. But when she discovers he's a cheater out to get whatever he wants, she finds herself alone in a new city. Armed with only a few people she can trust, Sarah sets out to carve her place in the world.
Jeremy's life came to a stand still two years ago, but now he's trying to make something of himself. He heads off to college to put his past behind him and start something new. When he meets Sarah he knows he's in for a roller coaster ride. He hasn't felt this way about someone in a long time--he never felt like he'd feel this way, again.
As Sarah and Jeremy get to know each other, she realizes there's something special about him. Something she has never felt before. But there's something he's holding back from her, something he's keeping hidden. Can Sarah find a way to trust someone again, or will Jeremy's past reveal itself? And will she be able to handle it if it does?
Finding You is book 3 of The By You Series but can be read as a standalone novel.
Daphnie's 4 Star Review
This is the first book I read form Kelly Harper and the first book that I read in The By You series. I loved the characters in this story, each one fit together perfectly.
Sarah is struggling to come to terms with her new status of being single. After Sarah caught her ex boyfriend Huck cheating on her she had to decide should she stay or should she go.
Jeremy first meet Sarah when they first came to college and she wasn't single. Jeremy ran into Sarah again and they starting hanging out. There relationship grew fast, they both had feeling for each other. Jeremy has a major secret from his past and Sarah can't figure it out.
When everything comes out will Sarah still stay with Jeremy or will she leave him?
The characters in this story are well written, I loved Billie she was one feisty chick. She would tell you how it is, she had a harsh outer shell but she just wanted to be loves. I just loved her with Oz. Finding you was not only about finding love, but a story about finding piece within yourself. 
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Finding You  
Sarah's stomach exploded into a jittery mess when she saw Jeremy standing there, giving her that sexy smile. Before she could say anything, he took a step closer and threw his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. All at once she felt the hardness of his chest against her cheek, and the sweet smell of his cologne--it smelled expensive, whatever it was.
As their bodies pressed into one another, Sarah's breath slipped away from her. One moment she had been watching Billie, and the next she had found herself in the arms of the guy she'd been thinking about all day. Heat rushed to her face, and she was thankful he couldn't see her.
Get a hold of yourself, you barely even know this guy.
When they pulled away, he still had that beaming smile on his face. And those crystal blue eyes took all of her in--they might have been the most gorgeous eyes she'd ever seen. He was wearing a fitted, black button-up shirt with his hair spiked like it normally was. His jeans were tight, and they were rolled up at the bottom with black shoes to round off the image. The top two buttons of the shirt were undone.
Like for many, life for Kelly didn't really begin until her 30th birthday. That was when she decided she was done with the corporate ladder and was going to start publishing some of her stories to see if people liked them. Fast forward a couple of years, and she's still amazed that she's able to spend her time doing something she's loved doing since she was a little kid.
Most of her free time is spent working in front of the computer at various coffee shops around Houston. But when she's not working on her next book, she's probably sitting in front of the TV with her eyes glued to whatever Netflix show she happens to be obsessed with at the time. Do we really have to wait this long for the next season of Orange Is The New Black?!
Follow her on Twitter, @harper_books, or head over to her Facebook page ( and leave her a message. Her website is currently going through some construction, and will be up and running sometime in February.
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Excerpt Blast: About Last Night by Ruthie Knox

We are pleased to be able to share an excerpt from Ruthie Knox's ABOUT LAST NIGHT! ABOUT LAST NIGHT is a contemporary romance, published by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House. ABOUT LAST NIGHT is on sale for $.99 right now for a limited time only, so grab it now! About Last Night

ABOUT LAST NIGHT Synopsis: Sure, opposites attract, but in this sexy, smart, eBook original romance from RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox, they positively combust! When a buttoned-up banker falls for a bad girl, "about last night" is just the beginning. CathTalarico knows a mistake when she makes it, and God knows she's made her share. So many, in fact, that this Chicago girl knows London is her last, best shot at starting over. But bad habits are hard to break, and soon Cath finds herself back where she has vowed never to go . . . in the bed of a man who is all kinds of wrong: too rich, too classy, too uptight for a free-spirited troublemaker like her. Nev Chamberlain feels trapped and miserable in his family's banking empire. But beneath his pinstripes is an artist and bohemian struggling to break free and lose control. Mary Catherine--even her name turns him on--with her tattoos, her secrets, and her gamine, sex-starved body, unleashes all kinds of fantasies. When blue blood mixes with bad blood, can a couple that is definitely wrong for each other ever be perfectly right? And with a little luck and a lot of love, can they make last night last a lifetime? Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: Because of You, Ride with Me, and Midnight Hour.
  • A 2013 finalist for the RITA award in contemporary single-title romance from Romance Writers of America
  • A 2012 Reviewers' Choice Best Book Award nominee in the "Contemporary Love and Laughter" category, Romantic Times magazine
  • A Library Journal Best Ebook Romance of 2012
  • A Reviewers Choice Award 2012 Pick, All About Romance
  • A Best Contemporary Romance 2012 nominee at The Romance Reviews
  • A 2013 DABWAHA nominee
About Last Night EB Banner
EXCERPT: Cath leaned against a table strewn with crumpled tubes of paint and jars full of brushes, pressing her damp palms against the surface and willing her heart to stop pounding. You’re not really attracted to City. You’re just looking for your clothes, and then you’re going home. A blip, remember? This is a blip. Dimly, she realized he’d spoken. “Sorry, what?” His lips twitched, and the dimple made another appearance. “I only said ‘Good morning.’ Are you all right?” She’d been on the money predicting he’d have a posh accent, anyway. Maybe she could blame the hangover for her reaction to the smile. She needed to eat something. Or get laid. It had been a while. Could you still say that when it had been two years? It had been a while. “That depends,” she said. “On?” “On what I did last night.” He pursed his perfect lips, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “You don’t remember?” “Not much.” She drew her index finger along the surface of his worktable, as if checking for dust. “Do you remember refusing to tell me your name or where you live?” “We talked?” Funny, she couldn’t resurrect any memories of speaking to him. Only his hand, warm and solid, guiding her. Only the way he’d made her feel. The way he was still making her feel, come to think of it. She was bare-legged in this strange man’s apartment, asking him to reveal the details of what she’d done while drunk last night. The situation ought to have been intimidating. She ought to have been queasy with remorse. She wasn’t, and she could only conclude the reason was City. He projected calm. “You kept calling me ‘City,’” he said. Cath nodded. “Yep. That’s what I call you.” He gave her a wry smile, and she held on tight to the edge of the table. Maybe calm didn’t quite cover it. Not when he smiled, anyway. “That’s precisely what you said last night.” His voice wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It was low and warm and soothing, and it took the edge right off his fancy accent. “Did I say why I wouldn’t tell you my name?” The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate. “You told me you were sad and quite tired, but you didn’t require my help, and all you needed to set yourself to rights was a cup of coffee and something to eat.” “So how did I—” He raised one finger to prevent her interruption, his eyes twinkling with amusement. She’d never noticed how unusual his eyes were before. They were green over brown, both exotic and warm. “Then,” he continued, “when I tried to introduce myself properly, you covered my mouth with your hand and insisted we remain strangers, because you could tell I was a very nice man”—he pronounced the word nice as if it were a razor blade he was carefully spitting out—“and I’d be far better off not knowing you.” Cath was impressed. Her drunk self had more sense than she’d given her credit for. “That’s true,” she offered. “I’m not really your type.” He cocked an eyebrow but let the comment slide. “Since I’m here, I guess that means you took a pass on the opportunity to hop the next train and leave me to my own devices?” “It was nearly midnight,” he said, defensive. “All the shops were closed, there were no cabs to be found, you wouldn’t tell me where you lived or let me see you home, and you could barely stand up. So yes, bringing you here seemed like the right thing to do.” A thought distracted her from the question she’d been forming. “What were you doing at Canary Wharf at midnight on a Friday?” “Trolling for prostitutes.” He delivered the line in such a dry, remote tone, it took her a second to get that he was joking, but when she did, she couldn’t prevent herself from teasing, “You must have been so disappointed with the selection.” She glanced down at her small, decidedly unvoluptuous body in the oversized shirt. “I wouldn’t say that, love.” The dimple appeared again. She lost a few seconds gazing at his mouth, and then she came to and let her eyes slide down his torso to alight on his hand, which still held a paintbrush. She hadn’t expected the smile. Or the paintbrush. She definitely hadn’t expected him to flirt with her. “I’d been to see a film,” he explained. “I passed out,” she replied, attempting to steer the conversation back toward the safer ground of her humiliation so that she could get the details she needed and scurry home. “I suppose you did. You were terribly tired. I made a pot of tea, and by the time I’d finished you were asleep at my kitchen table. I tried to rouse you, but you said, ‘Leave me alone,’ and then something that sounded very much like, ‘Don’t murder me.’” He reported all this matter-of-factly, as if drunk women passed out on his kitchen table every Friday night. Which, for all you know, they do. “Nice of you not to.” “I seem to have convinced you I’m a nice man.” Cath nodded her agreement, though he didn’t look all that nice at the moment. The gleam in those green-brown eyes was positively rakish. She hadn’t thought City had a speck of rakishness in him. “Sorry about the stripping part,” she mumbled, partly because she was sorry but mostly because she wondered what he’d say. The smile he gave her made her toes curl, it was so wicked. “You do remember,” he said in that low rumble. “You were very, uh, gentlemanly about that.” “You were very intoxicated.” He turned away to set the paintbrush down on the tray at the base of his easel. “Yeah.” She stared at her toes until they uncurled. This was her cue to ask what he’d done with her clothes. She would have, only City asked, “How are you feeling?” and so she had to keep talking to him. She tried to mind it but failed. The man was proving to be an enjoyable conversationalist, and he was remarkably easy on the eyes. “I’m fine, thanks. I have a little headache, but the shower helped. And the toothbrush.” “Glad to hear it. Would you like breakfast? I fried up some bacon.” The mention of bacon made her stomach rumble. “That sounds like a yes.” “I do have a weakness for the bacon-sandwich hangover cure,” she admitted. “But it seems a little lowbrow for you, City. I can’t imagine you drunk, much less hungover.” He took a few steps closer and studied her, an unabashed appraisal that should have been rude or even scary but instead sent syrupy heat creeping through her abdomen. “Considering you don’t know my name, you seem to have a lot of ideas about me.” Oh, she had ideas. She had a whole slew of new ideas about him, and she needed to find an exit strategy quick, because none of them was on the list of things she was supposed to be thinking about. Banker, she reminded herself. He’s a banker, a very boring banker. Enough already. Just, whatever you do, don’t flirt with him. “I don’t need to know your name. I’ve seen you around, and I know your type.” Aaaand she was flirting with him. It won her a smirk. “What’s my type, then?” “For starters, you come from money. You went to expensive boarding schools, graduated from either Oxford or Cambridge, and now you work at a bank in the City—thus the name.” He frowned and wiped his hand over his mouth. What a mouth. “Just let me know when I get something wrong,” she offered. “By all means, carry on. You’re doing a brilliant job so far.” “Which was it, Oxford or Cambridge?” “Cambridge. Trinity College.” She resisted the urge to gloat. Gloating was well outside the range of acceptable responses to City on this particular morning. So is flirting with him. Right. But it was so much fun. She hadn’t flirted in ages. “Let’s see,” she said. “I know you like to jog. Judging by those shoulders and arms, I’d say you also row, yeah?” “Some. I play rugby, too.” He gave her half a smile, and she made an effort to suppress the image of City in a rugby jersey with pink cheeks and dirty knees, tussling over a ball. A human orgasm. Her good sense was now officially yelling Mayday! She was now officially ignoring it. “What do I do for fun, then?” He stepped even closer. This flirtation had turned into a two-way party. She needed to find a method of steering the conversation back toward bacon sandwiches and, say, the location of her skirt, because it probably wasn’t good that she could smell him now, and on this man linseed oil was an aphrodisiac. “Well, you go to the symphony, spend weekends in the countryside, and date women who wear twinsets and have names like—” Without the least bit of warning, he kissed her. Not a preamble sort of kiss, either. No, he really kissed her, one huge hand cupping the back of her neck, and his warm, firm lips knew exactly what they were doing, which was driving every single thought from her head. Only the man remained, the mouth, the sensations coursing through her, heating her up from the inside. Heating her up fast. Could all bankers kiss like this? Cath rose on her toes, angling her mouth and pressing closer, but he pulled back a few inches. Then a few feet. She wanted to say something. The only word that came out of her mouth was a shaky “Whoa.” She tried again. “What was that, City?” “You tell me, Yank.” His lips curved into that sexy smirk again. “I’m pretty sure you just kissed me.” “Yes, I did. Shall I apologize?” “What for?” “It was terribly impolite. I didn’t ask your permission.” Cath leaned back against the table, crossed her arms over the tight peaks of her nipples, and tried not to smile like a girl who’d just been kissed silly. She failed. She was failing a lot around this guy. It ought to have been worrisome, or at least embarrassing, but his lips had liquefied her brain. First kiss in two years would do that, she supposed. “I was much more impolite than you. What with the passing out and all. You’re being very nice about it.” City scrubbed his hand over his jawline, pensive now. “I would appreciate it,” he said after a moment, “if you would stop calling me ‘nice.’” He took a step closer, and her heart rate spiked. “You are nice.” Her voice came out all weak and wavery. This was how Little Red Riding Hood had felt when she’d discovered the Big Bad Wolf wearing Grandma’s bonnet. “No,” he replied. “I’m not.” Another step, and his eyes traced a path over her arms, down her stomach to her hips. The brightly lit art studio made her purple underwear visible through the white T-shirt. She could tell that City noticed, and that he was enjoying the view. She sat down on the edge of the table. “You brought me here with impure motives?” The idea gave her a stupid thrill. He shook his head. “No. I developed them after you arrived.” Cath fingered the hem of the shirt where it hit her mid-thigh. “You shouldn’t admit to that sort of thing. It’s perverted to lust after half-naked drunk girls.” “Not perverted.” He stepped closer until his thighs brushed her knees. “Only male. And at any rate, you didn’t get me lusting with the strip show. Though it was . . . fetching.” “No?” It was a wonder she could speak at all, considering there was a tall, hard, hot man crowding her and using up all the oxygen. “What irresistibly attractive thing did I do, then?” One more step, and he was between her legs. “You talked. Rather a lot.” “About what?” “All sorts of nonsense. You’re not very fond of my country, I gather.” Cath shrugged, sheepish. “Sometimes I miss Chicago.” “I’d never heard you talk before. You ought to do it more. It’s charming.” “People who talk to themselves at the train station are generally understood to be crazy. Especially in your country.” “You could talk to me.” “I hardly know you.” “I’m superb,” he said. “You’re going to like me.” Big, warm hands covered her bare thighs, and she shivered. “Though I should probably reiterate, I’m not at all nice.” “I am,” she whispered. “I’m a very good person. Not the kind of girl who gets drunk and has to be rescued from train stations.” “I know.” He moved his hands up a few inches to the crease where her thighs met her hips. “Or who makes out with strange men on tables. I’m a thoroughly respectable woman.” “You don’t kiss like one.” He smiled that shark smile again. New Cath had a death grip on the tattered vestiges of her willpower, but she’d lost control over her body. Her palms smoothed over the muscles of his forearms, and her butt scooted her closer to the edge of the table by an inch or two. Or four. At least her mouth still worked. “I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.” “Don’t reform. I like you bad.” “I don’t want to be bad.” But her arms had reached up and twined around his neck, and she had to murmur the last part against his lips. “I do,” he said, and took over. Available for purchase at these and other retailers: Amazon Barnes and Noble
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ABOUT RUTHIE KNOX: USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox writes contemporary romance that’s sexy, witty, and angsty—sometimes all three at once. After training to be a British historian, she became an academic editor instead. Then she got really deeply into knitting, as one does, followed by motherhood and romance novel writing. Her debut novel, Ride with Me, is probably the only existing cross-country bicycling love story. She followed it up with About Last Night, a London-set romance whose hero has the unlikely name of Neville, and then Room at the Inn, a Christmas novella—both of which were finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award. Her four-book series about the Clark family of Camelot, Ohio, has won accolades for its fresh, funny portrayal of small-town Midwestern life. Ruthie moonlights as a mother, Tweets incessantly, and bakes a mean focaccia. She’d love to hear from you, so visit her website at and drop her a line.   LINKS: Website: Facebook: Twitter:!/ruthieknox ABOUT LAST NIGHT Goodreads: Ruthie KnoxGoodreads:

Cover Reveal: Beware by Shanora Williams

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Ace is bad.
Very bad.
After losing my brother, I know I should stay away. So why can’t I?
He’s irresistible. He’s confident. He’s amazing… but he’s dangerous.
He was there the night my brother was killed. He watched it all go down.
I should stay away. The things I saw weren’t acceptable. They’re not even legal.
I should want Ace as far away from me as possible—I should consider him a monster and a threat to my life—but something keeps drawing me back. Something keeps bringing me to him. Something is making me… weak for him.
He’s warned me many times to stay away. He’s even threatened me. But I know, just as much as he does, that I won’t stay away. I won’t until I get answers.
But there’s one thing wrong with getting too many answers. It leads to lies. It leads to trouble. It leads to danger. But worst of all, it leads to me falling deeply and madly in love with him.
I’ve gotta be out of my mind.


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Footsteps start up the complex stairs. They’re heavy. Slow. I try to control my breathing but it’s hard. The room that was once my sanctuary – my get away—now feels like a trap. A prison. I can hardly breathe.
Sealing my eyes, I listen as his footsteps get closer to my door until finally he stops. It’s quiet for a moment. I think he’s got his ear to the door, wondering what I’m doing.
Then he bangs on the door and I gasp. I don’t get up, though. He can’t get in. The door is locked and the chain is on. I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to kick the door in, knowing I have neighbors. Good thing they’re nosey. They’ll come looking for the noise immediately.
“London, I know you’re in there! Car’s in the parking lot.” His voice is no longer calm and casual. It’s angry and demanding. “Open the door.”
I don’t say anything, but I do stand and hold the knife in front of me just in case. I slowly walk out of my bedroom and towards the living room.
“Open it or I’ll kick it down. I don’t give a fuck who sees me.”
I gulp and gasp at the same time, which causes me to burp. And it’s pretty loud. Loud enough for Ace to hear.
Instantly, the door swings open and hits the wall with a loud thud. I scream as I fall on my side. When I look up, Ace is standing between the frames of his door, adjusting his tie. All I can make out is his shadow, but I can feel his eyes hard on me.
Stepping inside, he shuts the door behind him coolly. I scramble away with the knife in my hand. When I get to my feet, I dash for my bedroom and grab the telephone. He chases after me, warning me not to do anything stupid.
I dial 9, but I’m not given the chance to finish. He snatches the phone out of my hand and slams it down. I spin around, bringing the butcher knife in front of me again.
Ace takes a quick step back, glaring down at the knife. Then, a slow smirk forms on his lips. The lips I hated I admired once.
“I’ll cut you,” I threaten.
“You won’t,” he says boldly.
“I won’t?” I hiss, bringing the edge of the knife to his neck. “Don’t test me. I will.”
He raises his hands in the air, shaking his head. “When’s the last time you sharpened this bad boy, huh? Three years ago? It’s as dull as fucking a nun in bed.”
“I don’t give a shit! I can still cut you with it! Just… sit down!” I demand, circling him, knife still clutched in my hands and at his neck. “On the bed.”
He frowns. “No.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you, but if I have to I will!” I shout, voice wavering.
“That’s the thing… you won’t.” His tone is even.
I keep my tears back and my emotions behind me for now. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I don’t want him to get away either. But deep inside I know I won’t hurt him. I won’t cut him. I’m too afraid to shed blood after seeing so much already.
With a bored sigh, Ace snatches the knife out of my hand and tosses it out of my bedroom. It skids across the hard wood floors, causing a clanking noise that makes my ears ring. I gasp, and start to run after it, but he grabs my arm tight and shoves me against the nearest wall. It’s not a hard shove. Nor does it hurt. But I’m still afraid.
As I tremble, he brings one of his large hands up and locks my face between his fingers. His eyes stare deeply into mine, his nostrils flared. From the slit of light filtering in through my window, he looks pissed. I know he’s going to kill me. I’m a witness.
“Listen to me,” he grumbles. His warm breath spills down my chest, across my cleavage. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I spit.
“I won’t. I’m not the one that killed Jonah. They did.”
Hearing Jonah’s name causes fiery tears to build in my eyes. “It’s your fault. I know it. Why wouldn’t they kill you, too? What were you doing there anyway? Why was Jonah there? Why did they kill him?” All of this is spilling out of me. I’m outraged. I’m pissed that Ace is still alive and my brother isn’t. I’m terrified. I’m… I’m a mess.
“Listen to me!” he demands, releasing my face to lock his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know why they killed Jonah, all right? I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. But you have to understand… it’s what we do. It’s what Jonah signed up for. It’s business, and we can’t help when shit gets bloody.”
I process his words, give them some thought. “So… you’re the one that got him into that shit? What is it? What’d you promise him? I know Jonah, and I know he wouldn’t do something this bad without something in exchange.”
“I didn’t promise him shit.” Ace runs one hand through his slick hair. “He knew what he was in for. He was money-hungry, just like everyone else. He saw a way to achieve it and he went for it. It was a mistake… him coming to Atlanta.”
“How is that a mistake?” I demand. “I invited him. I graduated!”
Ace tilts his chin to meet my eyes. His are dark, and if I’m not mistaken, watery. I’m not given the chance to figure it out completely because he blinks and just like that, he’s angry again. “Don’t go to the cops. It’ll only get you killed.”
And with that, he releases me and walks out of my bedroom. I follow after him, grabbing his arm before he can get out the front door. “Killed by who? You?” I’m keeping my voice steady, but deep inside I’m scared out of my fucking mind.

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New York Times & USA Today Best Selling author Shanora Williams considers herself one of the wondrous, down-to-earth authors who's all about romance and the paranormal... but of course she always makes room for the many other genres out there. She's a huge lover of Starbucks and a big kid when it comes to Haribo Gummy Bears. If she could swim in Coca-Cola she would. She's a very avid reader and a fan of many others independent authors.


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Release Day Launch & Giveaway: Out Of The Ashes by S. M. Lynn


Can love really conquer all?  Even when the secrets are so big, someone could die for keeping them, has died to keep them?
Celeste Brooks is haunted by a past she cannot escape.  Plagued by nightmares and fear that her secret will be discovered, she buries herself in her MBA and work, opening up to no one except her roommate, Gavin.  Until her path crosses with his.

Ian Jacobs made a vow when his heart was broken that he would never allow anyone that close again.   Being a sexy business mogul has its perks, and having many attractive women throw themselves at you is just one.  Until his path crosses with hers.
As soon as Ian finds Celeste has applied for a position with Jacobs Enterprises, he takes matters into his own hands, knowing that he must possess this woman at any cost.  Celeste finds herself under Ian’s spell and knows that she will do anything to be close to this man. Including revealing her secrets?  As their paths, past and present, collide, they must decide to risk it all or leave each other behind.


Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he wraps me in his arms and lifts me off the ground.  “I was beginning to worry that you were having second thoughts.”  He nibbles on my earlobe as he whispers in my ear. 

“Never” is my only reply as he opens the door and helps me into the car.  I give him the address and he relays it to the driver before closing the panel between the front seat and us.
“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”  He tips my chin up to look into my eyes. 

“No, I don’t think so.  But everything about you does seem familiar like déjà vu or something.”  I run my hands up his thigh to cup his growing erection. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he says leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, “when I see something I want, I tend to take it.”  His lips set fire to my skin.  “But perhaps introductions are in order before we arrive at your apartment?” 

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather just keep it anonymous.  I’ve been so wrapped up in life for the last few years that I need a night to let go.”  To forget, I think to myself.  “Please.  For tonight?”

“For tonight?  Sure, but I can pretty much guarantee I’m going to want to see you again so after tonight, we’ll have to talk.  There’s no way I’ll be able to get the taste of your sweet skin out of my head.”

As much as I wish that this could be more than one night, there’s no way it’ll be any more than this.  I would’ve thought it would make me feel cheap to give myself to a man I hardly knew because despite the past, I barely know him.  Being with him though, I’m overcome with a sense of peace.  A sense that, at least for tonight, I’ll be in arms that will protect me from all the evil, which constantly threatens to catch up with me.  As we near the building, I find myself longing for that protection and security more and more.

This is dangerous ground to tread on.  Bringing my past way too close to my present but I have to have him.  I just need to keep reminding my head and my heart that after tonight we’ll just be nameless strangers to one another.  And I have to be okay with that if I’m going to go through with this.  There’s no doubt in my mind that one night with him will break my heart but the memory of tonight will sustain me for a long time to come, probably the rest of my life.  So I settle into his lap to enjoy the rest of our brief ride to my apartment.

Entering the elevator, the sexual tension is thick between us.  He pulls me close as his hands find the pins holding my hair.  He releases them allowing my hair to flow over my shoulders and down my back.  His fingers run through the loose curls causing my scalp to tingle.  The tingle shoots all the way from my scalp down my body to settle between my legs, where it became a constant throb.

The ding of the elevator, signaling our arrival to our destination, is the only thing that keeps me from ripping his clothes off right then and there.  I can’t believe how brazen I am this evening.  This isn’t me at all but then again isn’t that why I came to New York in the first place?  To get as far away from the old me as possible?  I unlock the door and usher him through into the living room.  “Can I take your jacket?”  I ask as he drapes it over the back of the sofa. 

“Is this alright?”  He asks indicating his jacket.  I can only nod as the electricity builds between us. 

Wetting my lips again, I ask, “Would you like a drink?  I believe we have some cognac here.”  Letting him know that I noticed his drink of choice earlier.   “Or we have some champagne.”  His gaze drifts to the counter separating the living room from the kitchen and rests on the champagne in the ice bucket and two glasses.  “Oh sorry, my roommate and I had a couple glasses before we left for the club.  Tonight was sort of a celebration for me.”  I shrug as if to say it was no big deal.  “But there’s still plenty left and I have another bottle in the wine fridge if you’d like some.”

“Champagne would be wonderful.  So what were you celebrating?  I feel a little guilty pulling you away from your friends knowing that you were out celebrating.”  In a few long strides, he stands in front of me.  “But I won’t say I regret it.”  His lips once again find mine; the champagne and questions are all but forgotten.  My hands tangle in his hair and his grip on my waist tightens like it’s his only lifeline.  Not wanting to break our kiss, I gently guide us down the hallway to my bedroom.  He moves us through the door and in a swift move kicks the door shut with his foot.  Once the door closed the need engulfing, my body grows exponentially.  I reach for the buttons on his shirt wanting to remove all barriers between us.  My clumsiness and inexperience are definitely noticeable but he doesn’t say anything, just helps guide my fingers from one button to the next until the shirt lies in a pool at our feet.

I reach up the side of my dress and find the zip.  Pulling it down with the dress, it soon joins his shirt on the floor and I stand before him in a lacy bra, thong and my heels.  His breathe catches in his throat and I can tell he definitely enjoys the view.  “My god, you are so beautiful.”  He pulls me to him and takes my mouth once more then begins his exploration down my body.  Trailing kisses from my neck down to the tops of my breasts and then over my stomach until he is kneeling before me.  He looks up at me silently asking permission.  I fist my hands in his hair and throw my head back in answer.  If I thought his intention was just to remove the thong, I was very wrong.  With a slight tug, there’s a ripping sound as the small piece of fabric falls away from my body.  He holds it in his fist for a moment just staring at my naked pussy before he lowers his lip to my clit and sucks hard.  The sensation almost causes me to fall over.  Sensing my weak knees, he pushes me back against the bed until I’m sitting as he continues working me over with his tongue.  “Ah god, that feels incredible.”

“Angel, you taste incredible.  You are incredible.  I was right before when I said I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you in one night.”  His fingers slip between my folds and he presses one into me.  I gasp at the feeling.  “Shit!  You are so fucking tight.  This is heaven.”

S.M. Lynn Author Bio:

S.M. Lynn has a Bachelor's Degree in Secondary Education with an English specialization.  She resides in small town Nebraska with her husband and two children.  She writes contemporary romance leaning toward the erotic but enjoys mixing in elements of suspense.
When her family can pry her away from writing and reading, she works in her husband's financial services firm.  Between kids and work there is not much time left over but when she has some, she enjoys traveling, watching Vampire Diaries and scouring Facebook for book deals.



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Blog Tour{Review, Giveaway} Midsummer Sweetheart by Katy Reynery's

During the annual Montana festival of Midsommardagen, a law enforcement official must protect a beautiful nurse from her past, thereby breaking his own vow to never risk his heart.

Erik Lindstrom never had much faith in love. He saw his parents’ marriage collapse and vowed to avoid the same anguish himself. His fiercely protective nature drew him to a career in law enforcement, where he’s managed to keep himself and his heart safe…until now.

Katrin Svenson is in danger. After leaving her home in secret, her only hope for safety seems to lie in the hands of a man who has steeled himself against her deep blue eyes and sunny smile. But sparks fly between the nurse and her handsome protector, and those sparks become fire as Katrin melts the ice surrounding Erik’s heart. That fire will ward off the dark force determined to keep their sweet midsummer nights from being an impossibly perfect forever.

Daphnie's 4 Star Review

This was the first book I read from Katy Regnery. I did not read the first book in the series but, Midsummer sweetheart can be read as a standalone.   

Katrin  Svenson family has decided she needs an intervention and needs to start over. Needing to get away from her ex-fiancé Wade who is a drunk and has threaten to kill her. Ingrid her sister in-law has set her up with a new job in a new town with and army buddy. She has enlisted her cousin Eric to drive her North .

Eric doesn't believe in love not after his mother Death. He has devoted everything to school and work in  law enforcement. He has had flings but nothing that he has called a girlfriend. The word commitment sends him into a panic attack.

During the drive Katrin and Eric learn a little about each other. At the end of the drive they decide to see each other again the next Sunday. Eric and Katrin begin seeing each other and sending texts. Everything was fine until the Eric think about  going back home for midsummer and seeing there family. The thought of them being seen as a couple scars him.

Can Eric get past his fears of commitment? Will Wade find Katrin? 

This was a sweet story. This had a different story line than most book that I have read and it was refreshing.

Author Bio:

Katy is a 2013 NECRWA First Kiss and 2013 NTRWA Great Expectations contest finalist who has always loved telling a good story and credits her mother with making funny, heartwarming tales come alive throughout her childhood. A lifelong devotee of all Romance writing, from Edwardian to present-day, it was just a matter of time before Katy tried her hand at writing a love story of her own. Katy lives in the relative-wilds of northern Fairfield County, Connecticut where her writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children and two dogs create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories of all can often be the messy or unexpected ones. Katy has a Paranormal alter-ego: KP Kelley -
Her Paranormal It's You is scheduled for a Winter 2014 release. 


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Promo Tour: Firestorm by Rory Ni Coileain

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Title: Firestorm
Author: Rory Ni Coileain
Release Date: February 28, 2014
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
Rian Sheridan is a foundling, a Northern Irish Catholic corner boy whose world was destroyed in fire, and reborn the same way, beside an Orangemen’s bonfire last July the Twelfth. A consuming, dimly-remembered pain in his past calls to him, taunting him, daring him to find it and lose himself to it in the S&M underground of Belfast. Cuinn an Dearmad is the last surviving Fae Loremaster, and he’s just seen the beginning of the death of the Realm, the haven of the Fae race. The only hope of stopping it starts with him finding the Prince Royal of Fire he stole from the cradle, and lost in the human world, many years ago. He has a few guesses about where that hope ends, and he doesn’t like any of them. Rian and Cuinn are an impossible pairing, two SoulShared Fae. Any two Fae will strike sparks, but these two Fae are a conflagration. Unable to stand one another, yet drawn into an escalating series of sexual collisions, their passion will either save a world or destroy it.
Firestorm Teaser 4

Shite. Apparently thinking of the male was enough to make him appear. Although, to be honest, if that were the case, Cuinn would have been here several hours and a dozen small fires ago. “I don’t suppose you’d feck off if I asked.”

                The answering silence went on for so long that Rian finally hauled the pillow off and turned his head toward the voice.

                Oh, Jaysus. Never had he seen a man so beautiful; the sight stopped his heart. Beauty had never been a concern of his, only what a man was willing to do to him, to bring him closer to what he needed. But there was little of desire in the way the Fae looked at him. Nothing like what he’d grown accustomed to, through the use of his gift, making men want him whether they willed it or no.

                “I wouldn’t.” There was exhaustion in Cuinn’s voice, as if he’d spent the time since their coffeehouse tryst at some heavy labor. “Though I would, if I had any sense of self-preservation.”

                There was a sobering, and unsettling, sense of finality to the other Fae’s words. “I’m not after destroying you.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to, a time or two. But the taste of joy he’d had in the coffeehouse had changed all that.

                Cuinn shook his head. “It’s not your doing.” He seemed about to say something else, but stopped, and sniffed, brows arching as he glanced around the bedroom. “I realize everyone needs a hobby, but arson? Really?”

                Rian pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, with a sense of deja vu. Had it only been the middle of last night, when Cuinn appeared to him, determined to resist him but doomed to fail? “It helps. A little.”

Excerpt #2
Cuinn’s laugh didn’t sound all that different from Rian’s own. Just as bewildered, and almost as frustrated. Saner, though. Maybe. “All I know is that what I felt last night – you felt it too, don’t bother to deny it – I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. Which life has been going on long enough that I really did think there was nothing new left. Until I realized how badly I need you.”

                Reluctantly, Rian turned back to Cuinn, drawn by the force of those words, the effort that went into them. “You don’t want to need me.”

                “Hell, no.” Cuinn shifted on top of him, and all the scents and sensations of arousal flooded over him anew. “One thing you’ll learn soon, if you don’t know it already, no Fae ever wants to need anything. Especially not from another Fae.”

                Rian understood, or thought he did. “If you need something, whoever has what you need has power over you.”

                “Congratulations, you’re a Fae.”

                For all the bitterness in Cuinn’s voice, there was a longing in his beautiful eyes, one Rian wanted to be able to ignore. Unfortunately, he was shit-out-of-luck in that regard.

                “And you’re my SoulShare.” Cuinn’s hand cupped Rian’s jaw, a thumb stroked his cheek. “I want you to share what I felt. Need you to. That alone is enough to make me wonder if I’ve lost my mind.”

                “Cuinn...” The touch on Rian’s cheek tingled, burned. Drove out the pain in his head, and made it worse at the same time.

                Cuinn didn’t appear to hear him. “But you don’t want the joy. You don’t want any part of it. And it bugs the shit out of me that it bugs the shit out of me.”

                “I’m sorry.” To his mighty astonishment, Rian believed what he said. It would be good, to see Cuinn smile, to be able to give him what he needed. He wished he could do it. But it wasn’t in him, not if he was honest about who and what he was. “There’s no joy to sex, no wonder. It’s not about making someone happy, or being happy myself. It’s about getting what I need.”

                “You don’t need wonder?”

                Rian started to shake his head, but was stopped, dead, by a kiss. Not one like last night’s, not the first move of a duel. A gentle, lips-parted kiss, an exchange of breath. Closed eyes, the soft touch of a tongue. A shiver, arrowing down his spine.

                “You’re so fucking wrong,” Cuinn whispered, before taking Rian’s mouth for fair.


20 Fun Facts

1. I have two toenails on each of my pinky toes.
2. My favorite color is purple-and-green-and-gold. Yes, I Mardi Gras.
3. Men with morning stubble. Yespleaseandthankyou.
4. The only things I want on my mashed potatoes are butter and pepper.
5. I've played connect-the-dots with the freckles on the back of one of People's Sexiest Men Alive.
6. I’m possibly the only writer who not only doesn’t write to music, I can’t write to music.
7. I have a serious jones for designer handbags. Deeply discounted designer handbags.
8. I didn't have a driver's license until I was 23.
9. I teach Irish ceili dancing. No, not Michael Flatley dancing. Bite your tongue.
10. If you want to get me on a roller coaster, you will have to pry my fingernails out of the railing. And then out of your arm.
11. I was .01 GPA percentage point away from being the youngest summa cum laude graduate in the history of the University of Minnesota.
12. The class that sunk me was Creative Writing.
13. I have hugged every cast member of the original Star Trek
except William Shatner and James Doohan. Yes, that includes George Takei. Be jealous.
14. I'm a very good cook, I just hide it because I hate bringing things to potlucks.

15. I speak, or have spoken, English, Spanish, Welsh, Latin, Russian, and Irish.

16. Drinks of choice: Guinness, Tennessee Honey, Moscato, Talisker. Drink of last resort: Champagne. Not that I don’t like it, but I can’t hold my bubbles. The whole reason I have a Pinterest account is Champagne-induced carelessness.

17. My Doctor is Four.

18. I’ve met the then-sitting President of one European country.

19. I assembled my writing desk myself. And didn’t hurt myself. Much.

20. I was in Seven World Trade Center at the time of the FIRST World Trade Center bombing. 


About the Author
Rory Ni Coileain
I majored in creative writing, back when Respectable Colleges didn’t offer such a major, so I designed it myself – being careful to ensure that I never had to take a class before nine in the morning or take a Hemingway survey course. I was lucky enough to score the wonderful P.C. Hodgell as a major advisor, too, and to spend several years in a writer’s workshop with Eleanor Arnason. I graduated Phi Beta Kappa at the age of nineteen, sent off my first short story to an anthology being assembled by an author I idolized, got one of those rejection letters that you talk about with your therapist until you’re old and gray, and found other things to do, such as corporate law and nightclub singing, for the next thirty years or so, until I discovered, entirely by chance (except that I don’t believe in chance), the world of m/m erotic romance. Now I have a day job as a legal editor that I’m aching to quit, I’m the mother of a high school senior (when did THAT happen?) and a member of my church choir and the St. Mark’s Cathedral Choral Society, and I’m trying frantically to keep up with the adventures of a group of very randy Fae and tree spirits and the humans who can’t seem to help falling in love with them.
Social Links
Firestorm Teaser 3
Purchase the Other Books in the Series
Hard as Stone
Gale Force
Deep Plunge
(2) ebook of Firestorm
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