Author Spotlight: Jessica Strawser and her book 'Almost Missed You' !!!

Author Spotlight:

 

Jessica Strawser

 

 

 

 

Violet and Finn were “meant to be,” said everyone, always. They ended up together by the hands of fate aligning things just so. Three years into their marriage, they have a wonderful little boy, and as the three of them embark on their first vacation as a family, Violet can’t help thinking that she can’t believe her luck. Life is good.

So no one is more surprised than she when Finn leaves her at the beach—just packs up the hotel room and disappears. And takes their son with him. Violet is suddenly in her own worst nightmare, and faced with the knowledge that the man she’s shared her life with, she never really knew at all.

Caitlin and Finn have been best friends since way back when, but when Finn shows up on Caitlin’s doorstep with the son he’s wanted for kidnapping, demands that she hide them from the authorities, and threatens to reveal a secret that could destroy her own family if she doesn’t, Caitlin faces an impossible choice.

Told through alternating viewpoints of Violet, Finn and Caitlin, ALMOST MISSED YOU is a powerful story of a mother’s love, a husband’s betrayal, connections that maybe should have been missed, secrets that perhaps shouldn’t have been kept, and spaces between what’s meant to be and what might have been.

 

Buy now on Amazon

 

JESSICA STRAWSER is the editorial director of Writer's Digest magazine and a mother of two based in Cincinnati, Ohio. Her essays have appeared in The New York Times Modern Love column, Publishers Weekly, and other fine venues, and she is a popular speaker at writers conferences nationwide. This is her first novel, with another due out from St. Martin's Press in 2018.

 

“A book worth losing sleep over.” —RT Book Reviews

“Perfect for readers looking for something new after all of the ‘Girl’ thrillers … Gritty, witty, and a worthy addition to the recent slate of domestic dramas.” —Booklist Online

“Strawser’s explanation of marriage, its expectations, and motherhood are spot-on, making for an absorbing read.” —Publishers Weekly

“Fans of smart women’s fiction mixed with a fast-paced plot should not miss this startling first novel.” —Library Journal

NEW FROM ST. MARTIN'S PRESS IN HARDCOVER, DIGITAL & AUDIOBOOK!

 

By day, Jessica Strawser is the Editorial Director of Writer’s Digest magazine, North America’s leading publication for aspiring and working writers since 1920. By night, she is a fiction writer with a debut novel, ALMOST MISSED YOU, forthcoming in 2017 from St. Martin’s Press and another stand-alone novel to follow in 2018. And by the minute, she is a proud wife and mom to two super sweet and super young kids in Cincinnati, Ohio.

A Pittsburgh native and “Outstanding Senior” graduate of Ohio University’s E.W. Scripps School of Journalism, she counts her New York Times Modern Love essay and her Writer’s Digest cover interviews with such luminaries as Alice Walker, Anne Tyler and David Sedaris among her career highlights.

 

Stalk her below!

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads

The Edgeworld Chronicles - Subject 5691:Petri --- Coming Soon From Elaina M. Roberts!!

 

 

 

 

Created in a laboratory. Trained to be the perfect soldier. He has no name, no past, and no future. He is Subject 5691. One of thousands such experiments...and the only one who lived. Now he's free.

Grokhaar Xandria is an edgeworlder: a native from a world hovering just outside Alliance control. He’s an independent trader, a rogue, a scavenger, and a smuggler who longs for someone to share the skies, his bed, and his heart.

In a desperate bid for freedom, the experiment forces his way onto the Den’Lastrian Diamond and into Grokhaar’s life. As they fight their way across the galaxies, Subject 5691 must carve out his own identity, escape from the scientists who created him, and discover if a genetically created being has the capacity for love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I am not what you think I am, Grokhaar Xandria.”

 

“No?” He slid his hands to twine their fingers together. Inching forward until their chests brushed with every breath, he nudged his knee between the male’s legs. “I think you’re everything and more, lad. You’re beautiful and maddening and sexy. Your skin is smooth as the finest satin. Your eyes draw me in until I could happily drown in their glow. I’m so hard right now it hurts, and I want to kiss you so bad I can barely think straight.”

“Why?” The word was a whisper on a breeze. A breath of sound that stirred him in all the right places.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” He moved in closer and ran his lips over silky hair and down one smooth cheek. Cradling the male’s hand, he pulled it from the wall and pressed it over his pounding heart. The soft inhale encouraged him to be bold. He urged their hands lower, down his chest and over the ridges of his stomach, until he closed their fingers around his dick. He didn’t know who groaned loudest. “Fuck waiting.”

He tried to keep the kiss gentle, to give the male a chance to turn away—Minost knows he tried—but his lips were so soft, so tempting. At the first spicy taste, his brain turned to mush and his libido took over. He nipped at the lush fullness of the plump bottom lip and then soothed the sting with his tongue. Each pointed fang called to him. Their sharp tips drew blood from his tongue and lips, blood he was happy to lose when it caused the male to gasp, to open to further plunder, to arch his lithe body against him.

Grokhaar slid his hand down the lad’s arm to tangle in his hair. Tilting his head, he pulled him closer and deepened their kiss. Every centimeter of his mouth was a new discovery, a new treasure of taste and desire. The first tentative brushes of the lad’s tongue against his nearly caused his undoing.

Tharking Azhell, he wanted this male, but not now and not like this. The boy deserved better than a quick fuck against a cold wall in the middle of the Between. He deserved hours of slow, thorough exploration. With his tongue. Groaning, Grokhaar lifted his head and rested it on the male’s shoulder. His pulse pounded in his ears as fast as a galloping oonta.

“That,” he brushed his lips over the heated skin, “is what you do to me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pre-Order Today!
 

 

 

 

 

Release Blitz, Giveaway, and Review for - Beauty of the Beast by Rachel L. Demeter!!

Beauty of the Beast

by Rachel L. Demeter Fairy Tale Retellings, #1 Publication Date: March 15, 2017 Genres: Historical Romance, Fairy Tale Retelling, Gothic Romance, Adult

🌹 Special $2.99 sale price through March 19th 🌹

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🌹 Book Blurb 🌹

Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story—retold with a dark and realistic twist. A BEAST LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS PAST Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago. A BEAUTY IN PURSUIT OF A BETTER FUTURE Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle—unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place. BEAUTY AND THE BEAST Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more… Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice. Beauty of the Beast is the first standalone installment in a series of classic fairy tales reimagined with a dark and realistic twist. Disclaimer: This is an edgy retelling of the classic fairy tale. Due to strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.

🎬 Book Trailer 🎬

 

 

🌹 Excerpt 🌹

~ Isabelle bravely takes her papa’s place ~

Quite a while later, as Isabelle relaxed and soaked in the hearth’s warmth, she found herself nodding off to sleep. Her mind detached from the stress of the past few days and receded to another time and place. She recalled her journeys with Papa when she’d been little more than a girl. All the villages they’d passed through; all the faces they’d seen. She thought of reading fairy tales beneath a bejeweled sky, of leaning against a mountain of crates as Papa pointed out the constellations and their eternal stories— Rattling seized her attention and ruptured her thoughts. She peered at Papa, who was carefully examining his teacup. Not with his sightless eyes, of course—but with wandering fingertips. The same impressive coat of arms engraved the fine proclaim; Papa ran his weathered fingers over its surface, clearly in awe of the raised gold decorations and studded gems. The thing must have cost a small fortune. Indeed, she’d never beheld such finery. Even the wares Papa had once sold paled in comparison. The faded brim of his top hat hung low and covered his glassy eyes. Then her mouth went dry as he slipped the teacup inside his coat. Has he gone mad—or simply grown that desperate? It was completely unlike Papa to steal. How could he—and after being shown hospitality? Her outcry startled him. He half leapt from the chair—and Isabelle watched in horror as the teacup tumbled out from the coat. It rattled and rolled onto the stone ground, shattering into a million pieces. A gloved hand broke through the darkness, quicker than a lightning strike. The hooded figure emerged from the shadows and seized Papa by his cravat. His other hand clasped a branch of flickering candles. The illumination flashed across the dark folds of his cloak, soaking him in a pool of light. “Stealing from me, are you? Breaking my family’s keepsakes?” A sharp jerk forced Papa to his feet. The rough movement sent the top hat tumbling from his head and onto the stone floor. Papa’s waxen features melted into an expression of horror and confusion. Her heart pounding, Isabelle lunged forward and frantically cried out, “Let him alone! It was an accident. Don’t you see that you’re frightening him?” “Good.” The simple declaration threw Isabelle into stunned silence. Papa called out for her as the man strode from the sitting room, his solid legs eating up the ground in swift, decisive strides. Mon Dieu, he was physically dragging Papa through the castle. This isn’t happening. It cannot be… “Stop it! Stop it now—you monster!” Isabelle picked up her skirts and frantically chased after them. Parts of the castle were dark and unkempt, causing her to trip several times over wayward pieces of furniture. Her heart violently pounded in her ears. The man moved impressively fast; between his agile stride and sweeping cloak, he almost appeared to float through the corridors. Plopping onto the stone floor, his dog gave up trying to keep pace. Dust motes rose and fell in midair like ashes, obscuring her vision. She followed the branch’s illumination, watching as the candlelight threw prisms along the walls and floor. “Please, monsieur. Have mercy, I beg you! He didn’t know any better. He's not in his right mind. He would never—” “No one steals from me.” His low voice echoed in the darkness, steady as a war drum. Isabelle felt herself descending. She ducked as she crossed a low archway, where she was met with a steep flight of stairs. A mouth into Hell. The ceiling lurked unusually low and was strung with cobwebs. Isabelle hiked up her skirts, which were now a filthy mess, and raced down the decayed steps. The hooded figure kept a swift pace while she desperately pursued Papa’s frightened cries. Plagued by the darkness, Isabelle tripped and crashed down the stone steps. Pain cascaded through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her skinned knees and elbows throbbed, her heart pounded, her head burned. She spared a moment to catch her breath as she struggled to her feet and resumed her vain quest. Papa’s muffled pleas and the sound of slamming bars ripped at her very soul. The dank dungeon was nearly black. She slowed her pace, moving toward a beam of light at the far end. Rats the size of kittens scurried across the stone floor and filled the darkness with their terrible squeaking. Her heart thudding, Isabelle rushed through the maze of cells, following Papa’s voice and that flickering light. Chains and crude-looking objects littered the ground—torture devices from a past age, she realized with a shudder. She found them. Papa was grasping the rusted bars; disoriented and frightened, he was murmuring incoherent pleas. Tears fell from his sightless eyes, though Isabelle knew he fought to restrain them. The branch of candles sat in front of the cell, its wavering light illuminating his terrified expression. “Forgive me. I have wronged you when you showed my daughter and me hospitality and mercy. Please, monsieur!” The man towered before him, silent and still. His long arms remaining crossed, he stood with his lean torso straighter than a broadsword. His hood was drawn back, though Isabelle couldn’t see his face from her angle. “Papa, I’m here,” she said beneath the weight of a strained breath. “I-Isabelle?” Not sparing a moment, she dashed over to the cell—and the man slowly rotated into sight. Except he resembled more of a beast than any man she’d ever seen. Isabelle clamped both hands over her mouth and forced her eyes away. The sight burned—and the inferno in his gaze only kindled that fire. Half of his face looked monstrously twisted; charred mounds of puckered flesh distorted the features beyond any recognition, draining him of all traces of humanity. Those heaps of burned, leather-like skin gleamed and glistened in the candlelight. His hairline receded on the left side of his face and slanted high above a shriveled ear. Under the severe scarring, his age was more or less indistinguishable—though Isabelle guessed he wasn’t a day under thirty-five. But his eyes were breathtaking. Two brilliant sapphires. There was also a great sadness and anger in those eyes, as if he’d suffered more than his share of original sin. Alas, as she gazed into his eyes, all she saw was blue ice—an endless, arctic landscape of cold desolation. The man turned away, appearing greatly affected by her stare, and hastily rearranged the hood. His scarred hands trembled as he smoothed down the cloak’s thick folds. “Release him,” she demanded. “He didn’t mean any harm. I—” “No one meddles with my family’s possessions. He can rot down here as my prisoner. He ought to count himself fortunate that I haven’t taken his hand.” “Your prisoner? This... this is a mistake! You must believe me. He’d never—” A deep, husky chuckle cut through her plea. “Even so.” “Please. Just let him out.” “It’s too late for that.” Those words seemed to speak volumes. He exhaled a long breath, and Isabelle watched as it unfurled against the darkness in a cloud. Silence. “Why... why are you so angry? Why must you be so hateful? So cruel?” “If I let him go,” he said at length, “what can you offer in return?” Isabelle couldn’t find her tongue. She wandered directly in front of the cell, almost in a lucid trance, and clasped the cold bars. Papa was huddled in the corner now, coughing and shivering. Guilt, unlike anything she’d known before, pulsated through her. I’m to blame for this. And if Papa stays here, he’ll die well within a fortnight, likely much sooner… “Get out of my sight.” The man’s voice jarred Isabelle from her inward stupor. She turned to him and stepped forward, raising her chin at a defiant angle. I am not so easily broken or frightened. I am a survivor. She scanned her empty, dank surroundings: the cold stone walls, sweeping cobwebs, and blazing branch of candles. Despair encased her. Stark emptiness. She dared to step closer while a faint trace of pity bloomed inside her heart. They stood centimeters apart. Heat radiated from the man’s body, surrounding her, immersing her. Isabelle vainly searched for softness him, but only a dark, embittered spirit reached her. She stared up at his towering frame and gestured for him to bow forward. He hesitated, then did as she commanded. Her hands shook, damn her, as she peeled back his hood and met that piercing gaze again. Half of his face was handsome—devastatingly so. In her twenty-two years of life, she’d never beheld such haunting beauty. Jet black waves, rich and flowing, framed the chiseled lines of his startling features. Stubble peppered the strong curve of his jawline and shadowed a smooth, sculpted cheekbone. The right side of his face was striking, beautiful—a stark contrast to its wrecked counterpart. And within those patrician angles and intense eyes, she encountered his humanity. His was a face of inconsistencies. Complex. Damaged. Predatory. And more than a bit intriguing. “I will stay with you,” she heard herself whisper. “In my father’s place.” “Isabelle—no! I forbid it!” The man folded long, strong arms across his broad chest. His gaze crawled down her face and settled on the rise of her breasts—planting directly on her silver cross. “I demand he’s seen by the finest of physicians.” “Isabelle! Listen to me! I’m an old man. I’m dying. I—” The man’s dark, strangely erotic voice cut through the cellar, and his eyes whipped back to her own with a startling force. “As my mistress.” “What?” “You must stay here as my mistress. For as long as I demand. Perhaps forever.” Forever. The word rang with a note of finality. “Please, Isabelle! I beg you. Don’t do this!” How could I endure it? “Do as I say and your father shall safely return home.” He waved his cloaked arms with a magician’s delicate grace. “Your father—whatever family you may have—shall want for nothing. A house, clothing, anything they require. You only need to say the word. Your father will be under my protection—under the care of nurses and physicians—until his last breath.” Isabelle briefly recalled what—and who—was waiting for her back in Ruillé. This fate wouldn’t be much worse. This desolate castle could serve as the perfect hideout. Papa would live in France, free from Raphael’s clutches and in the hands of the world’s greatest physicians… “How... how can I trust you?” And does he even have the wealth to uphold such a promise? “You cannot.” She had faith Papa would send help once his health recovered. Or she’d find a way out, means of escape. In the interim, she would survive this grim castle and whatever horrors it concealed. Papa would not. The castle would crush him beneath its dark heel in a matter of days. Isabelle glanced at Papa again, then stared into the man’s brilliant eyes. There, lurking within those expressive depths, she found the softness she’d pursued minutes before. She sucked in her breath and nodded her agreement. “It is done.” The man swept backward. “He’s to remain down here till first light. Then our agreement shall be carried out. In the meantime, I will bring blankets and food—” “But it’s so cold! He—” “Stole from me while he was a guest in my castle.” He would not compromise. That much was certain. “I demand to stay with him.” “As you please.” He unlocked the cell. “Beyond the dungeon lies a labyrinth. Try to escape, and you’ll be lost forever.” He tapped the wall with his booted heel. It swiveled, spun, and rotated, sweeping her captor to the other side...

🌹 Excerpt 🌹

~ Adam gives Isabelle his library ~

“Close your eyes, ma belle.” Strong hands cupped either side of her face. She felt as Adam’s thumbs tentatively brushed back and forth, stroking her cheeks in reverent caresses. Isabelle shut her eyes and slipped beneath his spell... leaned closer in the darkness until they stood heartbeat to heartbeat. The warmth of his breaths teased her hairline, bringing with them a minty scent. His thumbs descended to just below her chin. She lowered her face... felt a featherlight kiss land on her brow. It happened so subtly and gently—Isabelle wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it. She was allowing herself to feel too much. A stab of guilt penetrated her chest as her thoughts crept inward. Yet instincts told her to trust in her gut—to allow her heart to speak over her tumultuous thoughts. So she shoved away her guilt and allowed herself to simply feel. Pounding footfalls echoed in the room, attesting to its sheer size. Isabelle waited in anticipation under the veil of darkness, her small hands knotted in Stranger’s wiry coat. The steady beat of Adam’s boots floated away from her. A loud whipping noise and a burst of light illuminated the room as he tugged a heavy damask curtain aside. “Open your eyes, Isabelle.” She did as he commanded. Shafts of sunlight tore inside, dancing across the marble floor in blaring prisms—though the darkness still obstructed the room’s contents. Isabelle’s imagination soared as she fantasized about what lay in those clotted shadows. Pale light fringed Adam’s formidable shape, contrasting his silhouette against the dim atmosphere. He paused in front of the opened window and folded both arms behind his ramrod-straight back. Isabelle gazed at the line of his body, unable to tear her eyes away. Indeed, light from the window set him aglow, shrouding him in a cloak of gold. He wore black trousers and a white silk shirt, which fluttered lightly when he moved. Over the past several days, he’d made a habit of abandoning the cloak and hood. Isabelle had become accustomed to the mismatched sides of his face; where she once felt horror and revulsion, she now tingled with curiosity and budding admiration. Alas, the only true revulsion that remained was the memory of that night… Adam was an undeniably prideful man, and she knew he’d only scorn her pity. Even his stance exuded a sense of importance and authority. Strange, how he was so often shy and almost childlike; then, as if by a flip of a coin, he’d turn regal, confident. It was as though he was battling two separate halves... as if an intricate part of himself kept fighting to emerge. Not unlike the two contrasting sides of his face, Isabelle mused. For a suspended moment, he stood in front of the conservatory window, his scarred hands planted on his lean hips as he surveyed the distant gardens. Then he crossed the room, his footfalls amplified by the medallion flooring, and thrust open another curtain. Whoosh. Light flooded the space and chased away the shadows, and the room’s contents were ushered into view. Isabelle nearly lost her breath at the sight. It was a beautiful library—the most stunning sight she’d ever beheld. Ornate, intricately carved shelves towered against the painted walls and reached for a gilded ceiling. A baroque chandelier hung in the heart of the room; its crystals sparkled like diamonds as they drank in morning’s light. Isabelle fought to temper her racing heart as she gaped at the sweeping shelves. An intimate reading nook lined a curved window; lush pillows decorated the chaise, and a brass candelabra towered beside it. In all her life, she’d never seen so many books. There were far too many to count. Too many books to read in one lifetime. Isabelle couldn’t help but think of the little storekeeper from Ruillé’s bookshop; she imagined his astonishment, how his bushy white brows would rise at the sight of Adam’s vast library. He’d run his wrinkled fingertips over the bindings and spines, reverently caressing each one. Her heart twisted with nostalgia at the thought of her former home. Once Raphael had entered her life, however, Ruillé had transformed into a prison. This castle should have been just that. A jail cell. Yet she’d never felt more free than in that moment. The library was larger than her whole cottage; several book-filled rooms connected to it, each one built with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Three sliding ladders were nestled against the circular walls, soaring to the very top of the domed ceiling. She spun on her heels, twirling in place—watching as the immense collection flurried by in a fantastic mosaic of colorful spines and intricate woodwork. Her eyes planted on Adam, who stood in front of the large row of glowing, arched windows. His arms were still folded behind his body, his sleek back straighter than an arrow. She couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t move forward, although she ached to reach out and embrace his solid body. How would it feel to be enveloped inside that commanding strength? A devastating smile spread across his misshapen features and cut her thought short. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which was highlighted by the sun’s rays, and then hesitantly strode toward her. His boots rapped against the floor, and the sound swelled through the library. Stranger barked as he approached, the loud noise echoing in the room and jarring Isabelle from her trance. “Do... do you like it?” Finally he stood before her, silent and still. Isabelle inhaled a long breath, then laid her palm on the left side of his face. Her fingertips danced over the raised ridges and welts, the reddish scars and shriveled ear. His eyes shuttered closed, and she felt a shudder rake through his tense body. “Yes. I love it.” And I'm starting to fall in love with you, too...  

 

 

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I was offered this book in exchange for an honest review, and once I started reading it...

I. Could. Not. Stop!

This is my first book that I've read with this author, and it's like she knew that I adore Beauty and the Beast. I think she's psychic??! Ha. That being said, if anyone is a fan of the classic, Beauty and the Beast, you have to give this book a try because you won't be disappointed! Especially since this is the grown up version * wink wink *

Okay, enough fan-girling, so about the book – Ms. Demeter is very good at describing everything, she makes you feel like you're actually in the book with the characters, experiencing what they're feeling and what not. I like that. Also, it flowed very nice. You're not bored within the first 30 minutes of reading saying to yourself, “Is this going to pick up soon, or what?!” It pretty much took off from the start. For Isabelle to really be strong and find herself, she needs to get her and her father away from the antagonist of the story Raphael. Did I mention the author is good at making you feel what the characters are feeling? Because you will really dislike that man! Unlike Adam...poor damaged Adam! I fell in love with his character. He was a really good “Beast” with his disfigurement from his injuries he had as a kid; his personality and attitude towards everyone fit the book perfectly and when Isabelle came along she turned his complacent world upside down!

5 huge stars from me, and I really look forward to reading more in this 'Fairy tale Retellings' series if the author continues it!

 

 

 

 

 

🌹 Meet the Author 🌹

 

Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love. Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul. Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness. Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words. Don’t be a stranger! Rachel loves to connect and interact with her readers:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Newsletter | Amazon Author Profile | Instagram

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~*~*~*Release Day Blitz - The Fragile Line, Part One by Alicia Kobishop!!!~*~*~*

The Fragile Line, Part One

Release Day Blitz

March 15th

Synopsis

Recommended for ages 18+ due to strong language and sexual content.

Chloe McCarthy thought she had found the perfect guy. Someone just as detached as her when it came to love and commitment. Someone who never pressured her for more than just sex. But when she gets a little too comfortable with their arrangement and he rejects her for someone else, it triggers heartbreaking memories that leave her questioning her resolve for a commitment free life. In a moment of self-pity, she calls on the one person who she knows will make her smile.

Matt Langston lives a drama-free life and he wants to keep it that way. Chloe McCarthy? All drama. Which is why he needs to stay away from her. A mechanic by day, and bouncer by night, he tries to focus on work but the more he tries, the more she creeps into his thoughts, and his dreams, until he realizes that he needs to get her out of his system once and for all.

The Fragile Line is a spin-off to The Fine Line, told in an addicting three part romance novella series, with each part building on the last. The series may be read alone, however, reading The Fine Line first will only enhance the reading experience.

Book Links (Release Day, March 15th): 

Amazon US

Amazon UK 

Goodreads

Author Bio: 

Alicia Kobishop is a contemporary romance writer who lives in Milwaukee, WI, USA with her husband and two children.

Before trying her hand in writing, she worked her way up in the field of administrative healthcare with experiences ranging from working within a large local healthcare organization, to smaller independent physician practices.

In early 2013 her life took a change of course when she re-evaluated her passions in life, and sought out to try many new things.  She reclaimed her childhood passion for reading, and after reading tons of fictional novels in a short amount of time, and loving every moment of it, she became absorbed with the idea of taking her experience with books to the next level, and decided to write one.  Nine months later, her debut novel, The Fine Line was published.

Alicia loves connecting with readers.  Feel free to reach out to her through email or social media.

Author Links: 

Facebook, Twitter, Website, Instagram, Tsu, Goodreads

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Release Day Blitz - The Forbidden Rose by Vivian Winslow + Rafflecopter Giveaway + Excert!

Title: Forbidden Rose (Wildflowers, #2)

Author: Vivian Winslow

Publication Date: February 29, 2016

Genre: New-adult contemporary romance - *Can be read as a STANDALONE*

 

Blurb

Rosa Cruz, the fiery and ultra-sexy heiress of the Mama Linda Latin foods empire, is determined to create something on her own and not rely solely on her family's name and legacy. For her new upscale restaurant in the trendy Wynwood neighborhood of Miami, she enlists the help of her childhood friend, the hot, young Cuban-American chef, Eliseo Perez, who's already made a name for himself on the New York culinary scene. Despite Rosa's reservations about a forbidden workplace romance with her new employee, not to mention longtime friend, the chemistry between them is undeniable. When the cooking starts, things quickly heat up in the kitchen and the bedroom. But with Eliseo's troubled past coming back to haunt him, can Rosa and Eliseo hold onto love and keep the restaurant from going up in flames?

 

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Excerpt

Rosa pushes Eliseo onto his back and begins to mark him with her nails and teeth. She loves that he likes when she’s rough with him, and every mutual bite makes her wetter. He can’t keep his lips off of her, even when she’s down over his tight stomach. He pulls her arms up and sucks on each of her fingers, forcing her to stop when she feels a tug at her core. Desire drips out of Rosa and sticks to her thighs. She loves the feeling of want. It’s delicious torture to have him so available to her but to deny herself, even for a short time. He bucks his hips reflexively, needing to be inside her. Rosa runs her tongue over her top lip and smiles before moving her warm, wet tongue over his cock. Eliseo hisses as she takes him into her mouth. He loves when she goes down on him. There’s nothing sexier to him than a woman who’s unafraid of her sexuality and strong enough to express it. Eliseo lies back and closes his eyes, shutting out the fact that this will not be his reality much longer. He knows Rosa’s right, but it kills him to acknowledge it. He’s always known he has the capacity to be as self-centered as his mother, doing whatever feels right at the moment. Keeping Rosa to himself is what he wants, but he will hurt her if he tries and she’s not ready. Neither one of them were ready for the other. It’s as if the universe had brought them together just to show them the potential of what could be and nothing more. He groans as Rosa takes him deeper, swallowing and then opening her throat more to accommodate him. She’s one of the most generous lovers he’s ever had. But love does that. It compels you to want to give more of yourself than you’d imagined possible. Eliseo had tried to do the same for Rosa. To give her everything he could. Yet, if he were entirely honest with himself, he would have admitted to himself earlier that it wasn’t enough. Perhaps one day he can prove that he’s no longer burdened by the weight of his emotional baggage. Until then, he’ll show his love to her every way he can. She digs her nails into his chest as she continues to suck his cock, his hips moving in rhythm. Saliva drips down around her mouth and his shaft as she licks him up and down, tickling the underside with the tip of her tongue. The noise out of his mouth is unintelligible. Rosa laughs and nearly chokes as she goes back down on him. Eliseo smiles down at Rosa, loving how easy and fun sex is with her. Rosa grasps the base of his cock and pumps her hand up and down along with her mouth. Eliseo lies back, relishing this moment with her. He runs his hand over her head and presses down once, signaling he’s almost ready to come. She picks up her pace, wanting nothing more than this with him. Of course they have all night, there’s time for everything else. Right now, this is for him. Eliseo moans loudly as he explodes into her mouth. Rosa takes it all, swallowing everything he has to give her. Without missing a beat, Eliseo pulls Rosa to him, his lips conveying a gratitude for all she’s given him. Rosa sits up and straddles his chest, gazing down at him with a look he’d seen before and had taken it for wonder. But now he recognizes it as love. It pains him to think someone else might inspire the same look, the same feelings in Rosa. Maybe she’ll come back to me before that happens. His hands don’t stop moving over her curves, from her ass to her waist and up to her breasts. Her beauty fascinates him because he wasn’t drawn to her for the prettiness of her face or the long, thick wavy hair that is the envy of so many. Granted she has the body he’s always found most desirable—the curvaceous ass, strong legs, small waist and the most delectable tits—yet it occurs to him in this moment that not once were those the features that made her attractive to him. As he summons the memory of seeing her for the first time after so many years, all that he can recall is how being with her made him feel. Her laughter, her smile, her touch meant more than the physicality of her being. It was as if all of her qualities shaped her perceived beauty more than her actual looks.

  Blossoming Flower (Wildflowers, #1) Amazon US | Amazon UK

In the wake of the collapse of her father’s business empire, Flor, the gorgeous twenty-one year-old daughter of disgraced former Brazillionaire Gustavo de Lima, is forced to forge her own path in life. Flor decides that none of it—the private jets, the vacation homes and the luxury cars—were real. Or at least they really didn’t matter. The only thing that’s real for Flor is her love of horses and her desire to go to veterinary school. Heading into her final year of college, Flor seeks out the help of an unlikely benefactor to secure a summer internship working with horses. Arriving at the secluded Belo Horizonte ranch, Flor is awed not only by the majestic beauty of the place, but also by handsome cowboy and skilled horse trainer, Collin Taylor. Yet nothing is quite as it appears on the surface. When the hidden past is revealed, will love end up blossoming for Flor?  

About the Author

 

 

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Vivian Winslow was born and raised in Southern California. Before becoming a writer, she made a career out of moving around the world every couple of years thanks to her husband’s job and her incurable wanderlust. She currently lives in New York City with her husband and two elementary school age children, and is grateful to finally have a place to call home for more than two years. New York is the perfect city to indulge her love of fashion, the arts and especially food. If she’s not at home writing or running around the city with her kids, you’ll most likely find her eating at the newest restaurant in her beloved Lower East Side or having a cocktail at her favorite bar in Alphabet City. That said, she’s still a California girl at heart and would gladly trade in her heels for a pair of flip-flops to catch a sunset on the beach.  

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“With everything I am. I’ll always be by your side.”

It was his truth.

A vow Talan made to the woman who owned him. Because that is what Maya did to him; she held his entire life in her hands. He lived for her smile…her happiness, and now someone has dimmed that light in her eyes with their malice.

His love for his Bitty has taken him past the breaking point, and he’s determined to make those that hurt her—pay. Blood. He wanted his hands on those that wronged—almost took her away from him.

Because if one thing was certain, it was that he breathed for her. It was her warmth and love that gave him a home—a purpose and desire for more, but now that had been threatened. Maya was in pain, and that for him was unbearable.

It was his fault. A fault that he would right no matter what he had to go through.

How does a man so completely in love with his female react to seeing her in a hospital bed and broken?

He fights. Goes against all logic and seeks vengeance.

With the tip of my finger, I caressed her cheek before tipping her sad face toward mine. “Please don’t hide from me.” Leaning forward, I rested my forehead against hers—breathed in her every exhale. “I love you,” I repeated once again, this time against her lips. Lips that now pressed themselves against my own with fervor.

“Love you too,” she mumbled, mouth tightly pressed against mine.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” Another kiss. “I’m better, I promise.”

With a brow raised, I stared her down. “Don’t bullshit me.”

This time I got an eye roll and an annoyed huff. At the very least, her sass was still there. “Promise, I am. Now, quit being a pain in my injured ass and talk.”

Women. I bit her lip for the smart-ass remark before talking.

“Baby, when you were brought in, it was bad. We didn’t know anything, just that you were attacked and had lost a lot of blood at the scene.” I had to pause there and rein in my emotions. The resentment I held for the bitch and the piece of shit rich kid that helped her. Irritation with the lack of answers at that point—the fear I dealt with nearly bowled me over.

Maya didn’t need to see that.

“Please continue.”

Running the tips of my fingers through her loose curls, I found my center again. “It was bad, baby,” I whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You received a hairline fracture on the temporal bone after being hit repeatedly with a wooden—”

“Baseball bat,” she finished for me. “I remember that. I’d been at my car, on my phone with a friend when…”

Nodding, I reached up and, with the gentlest of touches, caressed her bandages. “Seeing you lying in that bed, unconscious, was one of the worst moments of my life. Pure fucking torture, not knowing when you’d wake up or what shape you’d be in. Head trauma, no matter how tiny, is dangerous. And you…fuck, Bitty.”

“Hey,” Maya breathed, wrapping her arms around my neck. The movement caused her to let out a low hiss, but before I could pull her off and check her out, she spoke. “I’m okay.”

It had the opposite effect. I hated those words with a passion.

“Stop. Don’t fucking placate me.”

“I’m not, Talan. Look at me.” Our eyes connected for a few seconds before I looked away and over toward the opposite wall. “I’m not broken. Hurt, yes, but not broken.”
Ignoring her words, I continued to talk as if on auto pilot. “Then, when you opened those beautiful grey eyes and with fear told me it was Janice, I...I want her blood on my hands for what she’s done to you.”

“That’s not a past-tense threat.”

“For as long as my heart beats inside my chest, I will protect you with every single breath I take.”

“I’ve never doubted that, but please, let the cops handle it. She’s not worth you dirtying your hands, baby.” While her pleading broke down my resolve for the briefest of seconds, looking at our surroundings brought it back. I wanted those two assholes dead. “I can see it on your face...no, Talan. Let them handle it.”

“I will.”

“Promise.”

“I do.” For now.

“Love you.”

“I know,” I replied cockily. “Now…” She let out a tiny giggle when I leaned in close and nipped her chin. “How about that shower?”

 

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Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.
Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.

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