First Time

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I’m feeling a little nervous today, but I’m also excited. I’m going to a party tonight, and I’ve been told I can cross off some of my bucket list items, lol. I really enjoy spending time with the couple that I’ll be staying with for the next few days.
I brought my walker with me this time; even though I know they couldn’t care less whether I am using it or not, I am still really self-conscious about it. I’d love to be able to say that I’ve gotten past the negative comments my ex made about my having Multiple Sclerosis, or basically isolating me in the house over the last few years. Unfortunately, I haven’t…I feel a little sting when someone stares at me while I’m using my walker.
I just realized that I won’t be able to take it, since another couple will be riding with us to the party. Honestly, I don’t use it if I’m just walking around my house. Plus, I’m sure that J. will help me get around if I need it.
J & K, are always very caring & will help with different positions to make sure I’m comfortable. One thing about having balance issues, is that it can be somewhat limiting when it comes to positions that I feel comfortable trying. For example, I don’t really like to be on top because it makes me nervous I might fall somehow, or even worse get a muscle spasm in my legs. Aside from being painful, it would be somewhat embarrassing to have an orgasm & then end up curled into a ball. The weather has been changing the last few days, it’s unseasonably cold. As a result my legs feel like they’re on fire (well at least the portion by my ass, anyway). If they continue to burn, that means I will most likely need to apply some Real Time Pain cream.
I don’t usually use topical meds, but ever since my friend sent me a sample packet, I’ve been using it when the pain becomes unbearable. Thankfully, it smells good. Can you imagine how akward it would be to go to a party smelling like Bengay? I’m pretty sure that would decrease my chances of having fun, and who goes to a party if they can’t have any fun?

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Phantom’s Dance by Lesa Howard

Book & Author details:

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Phantom’s Dance by Lesa Howard 
Publication date: March 1st 2014

Synopsis:

Christine Dadey’s family uprooted their lives and moved to Houston for her to attend the prestigious Rousseau Academy of Dance. Now, two years later, Christine struggles to compete among the Academy’s finest dancers, her parents are on the brink of divorce, and she’s told no one about her debilitating performance anxiety and what she’s willing to do to cope with it.

Erik was a ballet prodigy, a savant, destined to be a star on the world’s stage, but a suspicious fire left Erik’s face horribly disfigured. Now, a lonely phantom forced to keep his scars hidden, he spends his nights haunting the theater halls, mourning all he’s lost. Then, from behind the curtain he sees the lovely Christine. The moldable, malleable Christine.

Drawn in by Erik’s unwavering confidence, Christine allows herself to believe Erik’s declarations that he can transform her into the dancer she longs to be. But Christine’s hope of achieving her dreams may be her undoing when she learns Erik is not everything he claims. And before long, Erik’s shadowy past jeopardizes Christine’s unstable present as his obsession with her becomes hopelessly entangled with his plans for revenge.

Giveaway:

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21462458-phantom-s-dance?ac=1

Purchase:

–Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Phantoms-Dance-Lesa-Howard-ebook/dp/B00IQJPZJS/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1398786333&sr=1-1

–B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/phantoms-dance-lesa-howard/1118892915?ean=9780978818340

—-

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AUTHOR BIO

I’m not the typical author. I didn’t always enjoy reading or writing. While in school, I found it to be a chore I’d just as soon skip. I would rather have been daydreaming, my favorite past time. It wasn’t until I grew up and didn’t have to, that I realized reading was fun. I soon discovered that reading fueled my daydreaming. So, remembering a short story I’d written in high school, I began imagining expanding that story into a book. Before long I found I had loads of ideas for not just the short story but other books and stories as well. Fast forward a few years, a lot of studying about writing, practicing my writing, studying some more, taking classes from people who knew what they were doing, studying and practicing yet more, and ta-dah, author! In the same way I had learned I loved reading, I learned I loved writing, too. It’s just that writing is a lot harder than reading.

Author links: 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8056585.Lesa_Howard

My Review: I really enjoyed this retelling of the Phantom of the Opera. Christine’s family has sacrificed everything to ensure that she receives the best opportunities for her ballet career. Her father & mother are under so much stress to the marriage, it seems like it will ultimately end in divorce. Plus, Christine has  begun to develop performance anxiety at a level so great she is willing to take desperate meassures to continue dancing. Along the way, she meets the mysterious Erik. You will want to catch this read for yourself & discover if Erik is her savior, or devil in disguise.

Hold Still by Lisa Regan

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SYNOPSIS of HOLD STILL by LISA REGAN
After saving her three-year-old daughter from a car-jacking, off-duty police detective Jocelyn Rush ends up in the ER.  The last person she expects to run into is Anita Grant, former prostitute and an old acquaintance from Jocelyn’s days on patrol.  In spite of her obvious injuries—mutilated hands and feet—Anita refuses to talk about what happened. Reluctantly, Jocelyn backs off, and Anita’s case goes to Philadelphia’s Special Victims Unit.
Before long, Jocelyn is pulled into the SVU’s investigation.  Anita is finally ready to talk, but only to Jocelyn. Her story is harrowing, even to a seasoned veteran like Jocelyn. Working with SVU, Jocelyn’s investigation unearths a series of similar crimes going back four years.  Three men are preying on local prostitutes, viciously assaulting and mutilating them. 
The police apprehend two of the suspects, but the third eludes capture. As the hunt for the most sadistic of the three intensifies, and his crimes escalate, Jocelyn and her colleagues have precious few leads.  Then a monster from Jocelyn’s past resurfaces.  She doesn’t want to be reminded of the terrible secret that destroyed her family nearly twenty years earlier, but the man offers her a lead that could crack Anita’s case. 
To solve it, Jocelyn must connect her past with her present—before a sadistic attacker sets his sights on her.

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CHAPTER 1

October 4th
Secrets and lies—even the most innocent of lives spring from secrets and lies. Jocelyn Rush’s blood froze in her veins when three-year-old Olivia asked, “Mommy, do I have a daddy?”
Jocelyn was grateful to be driving. Olivia couldn’t see her face from her car seat in the back. She couldn’t see the pallor and the hollow look that came over Jocelyn’s features. To buy time, Jocelyn said, “What did you say, baby?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Olivia’s gaze was turned toward the scenery passing by. Her eyelids were heavy, drifting closed and snapping back open every few seconds. Jocelyn was surprised she wasn’t already asleep. They had spent the entire day at Smith Playground where the two of them had slid down the giant wooden slide so many times, Jocelyn’s ass hurt. Olivia called it “The Whee” because Jocelyn yelled, “Whee!” every time they slid down.
With its indoor playrooms and extensive outdoor playground for children of all ages, Smith was one of Olivia’s favorite places to go on Jocelyn’s days off. Jocelyn liked it too because it was free. She worked full-time as a detective for the Philadelphia Police Department, but raising a child alone was costly. She had to cut corners where she could and free was always good.
“Do I have a daddy?” Olivia inquired again.
“Everyone has a daddy,” Jocelyn mumbled.
From the day Jocelyn had taken Olivia in, she’d known there would be questions about Olivia’s parentage. Why hadn’t Jocelyn’s sister, Camille, been able to raise her own daughter? Who was Olivia’s father? Why couldn’t she meet him—ever? Jocelyn hadn’t expected the questions to start so soon. She thought she’d have more time. She had imagined a teenager—or a tween, at least—demanding to know who her real parents were. She had envisioned a child old enough to understand violence and junkies. Jocelyn was lucky that no one ever questioned whether or not she was Olivia’s mother. Jocelyn and Camille both favored their mother; and Olivia—with her poker-straight brown hair, wide chestnut eyes, and straight nose—could pass as either one of their daughters.
“Raquel has a daddy,” Olivia said. “He’s a ‘older.” 
“A Soldier,” Jocelyn corrected.
“Soldier,” Olivia tried.
“That’s right, Raquel’s daddy is far away in Afghanistan.”
“Aftercan?”
Jocelyn said the word a few more times, far better prepared to answer questions about war in a foreign country than Olivia’s father. But Olivia’s attention had already waned, sleep finally claiming her. At that moment, Jocelyn felt the tightness in her throat ease as Olivia’s eyelids drooped.
Skirting the edge of Fairmount Park, Jocelyn took 33rd Street to Ridge Avenue. Three-story, brick row houses with mansard roofs and dormer windows sat opposite the park, many of which were burnt out or boarded up. Some had sagging porches and trash-lined sidewalks. The turrets and columns had long lost their aesthetic appeal. The larger homes gave way to two-story row houses with bay windows, most of which were painted in shades of brown and deep red. She passed Mt. Vernon Cemetery and drove down West Hunting Park Avenue, home to a slew of mammoth industrial buildings. Long abandoned, the broken glass in their windows was like fangs glinting at her as she passed. The streets narrowed as she drove down Germantown Avenue, but the houses and businesses looked no less desperate as she approached the Nicetown Tioga section of the city. She was grateful that the rumble of cobblestones and old trolley tracks beneath her tires did not awaken Olivia. Foliage closed in from both sides of the street as Jocelyn drew closer to the neighborhood where the mother of her best friend, Inez lived. Inez worked patrol in the 35th District. Her mother, Martina provided daycare for Olivia and Inez’s four-year-old daughter, Raquel, while Jocelyn and Inez worked.
Jocelyn lived in the Roxborough section of the city, but she had to stop at Martina’s house to pick up the treasured blanket that Olivia had left there the day before. They had only discovered it was missing last night. Olivia had thrown the tantrum to end all tantrums before finally falling asleep in Jocelyn’s arms on a wave of hiccupping sobs. There were a few tense moments when Jocelyn almost broke down and called Martina to see if she could pick up the blanket, but she stood her ground. People forgot things, left them behind. Olivia would have to learn that sooner or later. A night without her blanky would not kill her—and it hadn’t. Still, Jocelyn wasn’t about to go another night without it. Raquel was spending the day with her paternal grandparents. With no children to watch, Martina had gone to Atlantic City for the day, but she had promised to leave Olivia’s blanky in a plastic bag between her screen and front doors.
Chew Avenue was a busy street with wide single lanes of traffic in each direction and cars parallel-parked bumper to bumper on either side. As usual there wasn’t a parking spot within a three-block radius. Jocelyn pulled over and double-parked with her hazard lights flashing. Cars zipped around her vehicle without so much as a beep. In Philadelphia, double-parking was the norm. The blinkers were an added courtesy which most double-parkers didn’t even bother to use.
Jocelyn glanced at the house. The screen door was cracked just a little; and there was a flash of a plastic, yellow Shop Rite bag peeking out. She peered back at Olivia and paused a long moment to see if Olivia would wake up now that the car had stopped moving. But the snoring continued unabated. Jocelyn turned away from Olivia, catching her own smile in the rearview mirror. Just looking at Olivia made her grin. Most of the time, she didn’t realize she was doing it. It amazed her that this tiny person could be such a powerhouse of joy.
Unless she doesn’t have her blanket, Jocelyn thought wryly.
Jocelyn took a quick look up and down the street, gauging how long it would take her to sprint to Martina’s door and back. It shouldn’t take more than ten seconds. As a rule, she never left Olivia alone in the car—not even when she was paying for gas—but the door was only twenty feet away. It would be faster to run for it than to unfasten Olivia’s seat belt and carry her to and fro.
Jocelyn slipped her seat belt off and got out, closing the door softly behind her. She sprinted up the steps and snatched the bag from between the doors. As she turned back to her car, she saw the figure, just a blur in her periphery. Then her Ford Explorer drove off down Chew Avenue with Olivia in the back seat.
Jocelyn leapt off the steps and ran into the street.
“Olivia!” she screamed.
She had never run so fast, and was only vaguely aware of the other cars whizzing past, beeping and swerving to avoid her, expletives rolling out of the mouths of passing motorists. The Explorer made the first right onto North 21st Street and Jocelyn followed, arms and legs pumping, feet slapping the pavement, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She reached for her gun but quickly remembered she didn’t have it. It was her day off.
“Dammit.” 
She was losing ground as the Explorer turned right onto Conlyn and out of her sight.
“Olivia!”
Every muscle in her body strained and screamed, her lungs burning. She turned the corner and almost wept with relief. The Explorer was stopped behind someone who had double-parked in the middle of the street. There wasn’t enough room for it to pass. The other car’s blinkers were on, the driver nowhere to be seen. For once, Philadelphia’s narrow side streets were a blessing instead of a curse.
Breathing heavily, Jocelyn approached the Explorer from the drivers’ side and opened the door. She didn’t look; instead she grabbed and grabbed until she had a handful of clothing. She pulled a skinny, punk kid—maybe nineteen or twenty—out of the car by his collar.
His face was pimpled with a patchy five o’clock shadow. His white-blond hair was greasy, a shock of it falling across his coal-dark eyes as he glared at her. “Hey, what the fuck are you—”
The whole world went silent. Jocelyn knew the kid was speaking, but she couldn’t hear anything. Her field of vision narrowed to his face. And when he met her eyes, for a brief, fleeting second, he looked afraid. Then Jocelyn hit him. She hit him again and again. He fought back, but his ineffectual punches glanced off her body; no match for her rage. By the time she was done, she had a few bruises and her right wrist throbbed, but she didn’t remember the particulars. She only remembered hitting him until he lay at her feet, unmoving. Her vehicle had rolled forward a few feet, bumping the rear of the car that was double-parked. A few people had come out of their homes. They stood on the pavement and on porches, staring open-mouthed.
Jocelyn’s hearing returned slowly. Her labored breath was deafening. She left the kid on the ground and pulled open the back door of the Explorer. There sat Olivia in her car seat, face flushed with sleep. Her little round face was relaxed, her mouth open. A strand of brown hair stuck to one of her cheeks. She sighed softly in her sleep, one tiny hand clutching Lulu, the pink beanie bear that accompanied them everywhere.
“Oh God,” Jocelyn gasped. She put her Explorer in park and then sat in the back, weeping uncontrollably. She dialed 911 on her cell phone.
“911. Where’s your emergency?”
Sobbing.
“Miss? Where’s your emergency?”
“Philadelphia. I want to report a carjacking.”

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BIO:
Lisa Regan is a crime fiction author.  Her first novel, Finding Claire Fletcher won Best Heroine in the eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook Awards 2013.  It was runner-up for Best Novel.  It was also a Digital Book Today Best of 2013 ebook selection.  In December 2013, Finding Claire Fletcher and her second novel, Aberration were #1 Amazon bestsellers in the Kidnapping and Serial Killers categories, respectively.
Lisa is a member of Sisters In Crime.  She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English and Master of Education Degree from Bloomsburg University.  She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and daughter. 

ONLINE LINKS:
· Website –  http://www.lisaregan.com 
· Blog –  http://www.lisalregan.blogspot.com 
· Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lisa-Regan/189735444395923
· Twitter – @lisalregan
· Goodreads -  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6443334.Lisa_Regan

Buy Now
Amazon   http://www.amazon.com/Hold-Still-Lisa-Regan-ebook/dp/B00J2BHONO/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1398016036&sr=1-3&keywords=Hold+Still
B&N  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hold-still-lisa-regan/1118931695?ean=9781495206801

Button
Release Day Blitz 6/1








June 25 to July 25 Blog Tour








Hold Still by Lisa Regan

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SYNOPSIS of HOLD STILL by LISA REGAN
After saving her three-year-old daughter from a car-jacking, off-duty police detective Jocelyn Rush ends up in the ER.  The last person she expects to run into is Anita Grant, former prostitute and an old acquaintance from Jocelyn’s days on patrol.  In spite of her obvious injuries—mutilated hands and feet—Anita refuses to talk about what happened. Reluctantly, Jocelyn backs off, and Anita’s case goes to Philadelphia’s Special Victims Unit.
Before long, Jocelyn is pulled into the SVU’s investigation.  Anita is finally ready to talk, but only to Jocelyn. Her story is harrowing, even to a seasoned veteran like Jocelyn. Working with SVU, Jocelyn’s investigation unearths a series of similar crimes going back four years.  Three men are preying on local prostitutes, viciously assaulting and mutilating them. 
The police apprehend two of the suspects, but the third eludes capture. As the hunt for the most sadistic of the three intensifies, and his crimes escalate, Jocelyn and her colleagues have precious few leads.  Then a monster from Jocelyn’s past resurfaces.  She doesn’t want to be reminded of the terrible secret that destroyed her family nearly twenty years earlier, but the man offers her a lead that could crack Anita’s case. 
To solve it, Jocelyn must connect her past with her present—before a sadistic attacker sets his sights on her.

image

CHAPTER 1

October 4th
Secrets and lies—even the most innocent of lives spring from secrets and lies. Jocelyn Rush’s blood froze in her veins when three-year-old Olivia asked, “Mommy, do I have a daddy?”
Jocelyn was grateful to be driving. Olivia couldn’t see her face from her car seat in the back. She couldn’t see the pallor and the hollow look that came over Jocelyn’s features. To buy time, Jocelyn said, “What did you say, baby?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Olivia’s gaze was turned toward the scenery passing by. Her eyelids were heavy, drifting closed and snapping back open every few seconds. Jocelyn was surprised she wasn’t already asleep. They had spent the entire day at Smith Playground where the two of them had slid down the giant wooden slide so many times, Jocelyn’s ass hurt. Olivia called it “The Whee” because Jocelyn yelled, “Whee!” every time they slid down.
With its indoor playrooms and extensive outdoor playground for children of all ages, Smith was one of Olivia’s favorite places to go on Jocelyn’s days off. Jocelyn liked it too because it was free. She worked full-time as a detective for the Philadelphia Police Department, but raising a child alone was costly. She had to cut corners where she could and free was always good.
“Do I have a daddy?” Olivia inquired again.
“Everyone has a daddy,” Jocelyn mumbled.
From the day Jocelyn had taken Olivia in, she’d known there would be questions about Olivia’s parentage. Why hadn’t Jocelyn’s sister, Camille, been able to raise her own daughter? Who was Olivia’s father? Why couldn’t she meet him—ever? Jocelyn hadn’t expected the questions to start so soon. She thought she’d have more time. She had imagined a teenager—or a tween, at least—demanding to know who her real parents were. She had envisioned a child old enough to understand violence and junkies. Jocelyn was lucky that no one ever questioned whether or not she was Olivia’s mother. Jocelyn and Camille both favored their mother; and Olivia—with her poker-straight brown hair, wide chestnut eyes, and straight nose—could pass as either one of their daughters.
“Raquel has a daddy,” Olivia said. “He’s a ‘older.” 
“A Soldier,” Jocelyn corrected.
“Soldier,” Olivia tried.
“That’s right, Raquel’s daddy is far away in Afghanistan.”
“Aftercan?”
Jocelyn said the word a few more times, far better prepared to answer questions about war in a foreign country than Olivia’s father. But Olivia’s attention had already waned, sleep finally claiming her. At that moment, Jocelyn felt the tightness in her throat ease as Olivia’s eyelids drooped.
Skirting the edge of Fairmount Park, Jocelyn took 33rd Street to Ridge Avenue. Three-story, brick row houses with mansard roofs and dormer windows sat opposite the park, many of which were burnt out or boarded up. Some had sagging porches and trash-lined sidewalks. The turrets and columns had long lost their aesthetic appeal. The larger homes gave way to two-story row houses with bay windows, most of which were painted in shades of brown and deep red. She passed Mt. Vernon Cemetery and drove down West Hunting Park Avenue, home to a slew of mammoth industrial buildings. Long abandoned, the broken glass in their windows was like fangs glinting at her as she passed. The streets narrowed as she drove down Germantown Avenue, but the houses and businesses looked no less desperate as she approached the Nicetown Tioga section of the city. She was grateful that the rumble of cobblestones and old trolley tracks beneath her tires did not awaken Olivia. Foliage closed in from both sides of the street as Jocelyn drew closer to the neighborhood where the mother of her best friend, Inez lived. Inez worked patrol in the 35th District. Her mother, Martina provided daycare for Olivia and Inez’s four-year-old daughter, Raquel, while Jocelyn and Inez worked.
Jocelyn lived in the Roxborough section of the city, but she had to stop at Martina’s house to pick up the treasured blanket that Olivia had left there the day before. They had only discovered it was missing last night. Olivia had thrown the tantrum to end all tantrums before finally falling asleep in Jocelyn’s arms on a wave of hiccupping sobs. There were a few tense moments when Jocelyn almost broke down and called Martina to see if she could pick up the blanket, but she stood her ground. People forgot things, left them behind. Olivia would have to learn that sooner or later. A night without her blanky would not kill her—and it hadn’t. Still, Jocelyn wasn’t about to go another night without it. Raquel was spending the day with her paternal grandparents. With no children to watch, Martina had gone to Atlantic City for the day, but she had promised to leave Olivia’s blanky in a plastic bag between her screen and front doors.
Chew Avenue was a busy street with wide single lanes of traffic in each direction and cars parallel-parked bumper to bumper on either side. As usual there wasn’t a parking spot within a three-block radius. Jocelyn pulled over and double-parked with her hazard lights flashing. Cars zipped around her vehicle without so much as a beep. In Philadelphia, double-parking was the norm. The blinkers were an added courtesy which most double-parkers didn’t even bother to use.
Jocelyn glanced at the house. The screen door was cracked just a little; and there was a flash of a plastic, yellow Shop Rite bag peeking out. She peered back at Olivia and paused a long moment to see if Olivia would wake up now that the car had stopped moving. But the snoring continued unabated. Jocelyn turned away from Olivia, catching her own smile in the rearview mirror. Just looking at Olivia made her grin. Most of the time, she didn’t realize she was doing it. It amazed her that this tiny person could be such a powerhouse of joy.
Unless she doesn’t have her blanket, Jocelyn thought wryly.
Jocelyn took a quick look up and down the street, gauging how long it would take her to sprint to Martina’s door and back. It shouldn’t take more than ten seconds. As a rule, she never left Olivia alone in the car—not even when she was paying for gas—but the door was only twenty feet away. It would be faster to run for it than to unfasten Olivia’s seat belt and carry her to and fro.
Jocelyn slipped her seat belt off and got out, closing the door softly behind her. She sprinted up the steps and snatched the bag from between the doors. As she turned back to her car, she saw the figure, just a blur in her periphery. Then her Ford Explorer drove off down Chew Avenue with Olivia in the back seat.
Jocelyn leapt off the steps and ran into the street.
“Olivia!” she screamed.
She had never run so fast, and was only vaguely aware of the other cars whizzing past, beeping and swerving to avoid her, expletives rolling out of the mouths of passing motorists. The Explorer made the first right onto North 21st Street and Jocelyn followed, arms and legs pumping, feet slapping the pavement, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She reached for her gun but quickly remembered she didn’t have it. It was her day off.
“Dammit.” 
She was losing ground as the Explorer turned right onto Conlyn and out of her sight.
“Olivia!”
Every muscle in her body strained and screamed, her lungs burning. She turned the corner and almost wept with relief. The Explorer was stopped behind someone who had double-parked in the middle of the street. There wasn’t enough room for it to pass. The other car’s blinkers were on, the driver nowhere to be seen. For once, Philadelphia’s narrow side streets were a blessing instead of a curse.
Breathing heavily, Jocelyn approached the Explorer from the drivers’ side and opened the door. She didn’t look; instead she grabbed and grabbed until she had a handful of clothing. She pulled a skinny, punk kid—maybe nineteen or twenty—out of the car by his collar.
His face was pimpled with a patchy five o’clock shadow. His white-blond hair was greasy, a shock of it falling across his coal-dark eyes as he glared at her. “Hey, what the fuck are you—”
The whole world went silent. Jocelyn knew the kid was speaking, but she couldn’t hear anything. Her field of vision narrowed to his face. And when he met her eyes, for a brief, fleeting second, he looked afraid. Then Jocelyn hit him. She hit him again and again. He fought back, but his ineffectual punches glanced off her body; no match for her rage. By the time she was done, she had a few bruises and her right wrist throbbed, but she didn’t remember the particulars. She only remembered hitting him until he lay at her feet, unmoving. Her vehicle had rolled forward a few feet, bumping the rear of the car that was double-parked. A few people had come out of their homes. They stood on the pavement and on porches, staring open-mouthed.
Jocelyn’s hearing returned slowly. Her labored breath was deafening. She left the kid on the ground and pulled open the back door of the Explorer. There sat Olivia in her car seat, face flushed with sleep. Her little round face was relaxed, her mouth open. A strand of brown hair stuck to one of her cheeks. She sighed softly in her sleep, one tiny hand clutching Lulu, the pink beanie bear that accompanied them everywhere.
“Oh God,” Jocelyn gasped. She put her Explorer in park and then sat in the back, weeping uncontrollably. She dialed 911 on her cell phone.
“911. Where’s your emergency?”
Sobbing.
“Miss? Where’s your emergency?”
“Philadelphia. I want to report a carjacking.”

image

BIO:
Lisa Regan is a crime fiction author.  Her first novel, Finding Claire Fletcher won Best Heroine in the eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook Awards 2013.  It was runner-up for Best Novel.  It was also a Digital Book Today Best of 2013 ebook selection.  In December 2013, Finding Claire Fletcher and her second novel, Aberration were #1 Amazon bestsellers in the Kidnapping and Serial Killers categories, respectively.
Lisa is a member of Sisters In Crime.  She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English and Master of Education Degree from Bloomsburg University.  She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and daughter. 

ONLINE LINKS:
· Website –  http://www.lisaregan.com 
· Blog –  http://www.lisalregan.blogspot.com 
· Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lisa-Regan/189735444395923
· Twitter – @lisalregan
· Goodreads -  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6443334.Lisa_Regan

Buy Now
Amazon   http://www.amazon.com/Hold-Still-Lisa-Regan-ebook/dp/B00J2BHONO/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1398016036&sr=1-3&keywords=Hold+Still
B&N  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hold-still-lisa-regan/1118931695?ean=9781495206801

Button
Release Day Blitz 6/1


June 25 to July 25 Blog Tour

image

SYNOPSIS of HOLD STILL by LISA REGAN
After saving her three-year-old daughter from a car-jacking, off-duty police detective Jocelyn Rush ends up in the ER.  The last person she expects to run into is Anita Grant, former prostitute and an old acquaintance from Jocelyn’s days on patrol.  In spite of her obvious injuries—mutilated hands and feet—Anita refuses to talk about what happened. Reluctantly, Jocelyn backs off, and Anita’s case goes to Philadelphia’s Special Victims Unit.
Before long, Jocelyn is pulled into the SVU’s investigation.  Anita is finally ready to talk, but only to Jocelyn. Her story is harrowing, even to a seasoned veteran like Jocelyn. Working with SVU, Jocelyn’s investigation unearths a series of similar crimes going back four years.  Three men are preying on local prostitutes, viciously assaulting and mutilating them. 
The police apprehend two of the suspects, but the third eludes capture. As the hunt for the most sadistic of the three intensifies, and his crimes escalate, Jocelyn and her colleagues have precious few leads.  Then a monster from Jocelyn’s past resurfaces.  She doesn’t want to be reminded of the terrible secret that destroyed her family nearly twenty years earlier, but the man offers her a lead that could crack Anita’s case. 
To solve it, Jocelyn must connect her past with her present—before a sadistic attacker sets his sights on her.

image

CHAPTER 1

October 4th
Secrets and lies—even the most innocent of lives spring from secrets and lies. Jocelyn Rush’s blood froze in her veins when three-year-old Olivia asked, “Mommy, do I have a daddy?”
Jocelyn was grateful to be driving. Olivia couldn’t see her face from her car seat in the back. She couldn’t see the pallor and the hollow look that came over Jocelyn’s features. To buy time, Jocelyn said, “What did you say, baby?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Olivia’s gaze was turned toward the scenery passing by. Her eyelids were heavy, drifting closed and snapping back open every few seconds. Jocelyn was surprised she wasn’t already asleep. They had spent the entire day at Smith Playground where the two of them had slid down the giant wooden slide so many times, Jocelyn’s ass hurt. Olivia called it “The Whee” because Jocelyn yelled, “Whee!” every time they slid down.
With its indoor playrooms and extensive outdoor playground for children of all ages, Smith was one of Olivia’s favorite places to go on Jocelyn’s days off. Jocelyn liked it too because it was free. She worked full-time as a detective for the Philadelphia Police Department, but raising a child alone was costly. She had to cut corners where she could and free was always good.
“Do I have a daddy?” Olivia inquired again.
“Everyone has a daddy,” Jocelyn mumbled.
From the day Jocelyn had taken Olivia in, she’d known there would be questions about Olivia’s parentage. Why hadn’t Jocelyn’s sister, Camille, been able to raise her own daughter? Who was Olivia’s father? Why couldn’t she meet him—ever? Jocelyn hadn’t expected the questions to start so soon. She thought she’d have more time. She had imagined a teenager—or a tween, at least—demanding to know who her real parents were. She had envisioned a child old enough to understand violence and junkies. Jocelyn was lucky that no one ever questioned whether or not she was Olivia’s mother. Jocelyn and Camille both favored their mother; and Olivia—with her poker-straight brown hair, wide chestnut eyes, and straight nose—could pass as either one of their daughters.
“Raquel has a daddy,” Olivia said. “He’s a ‘older.” 
“A Soldier,” Jocelyn corrected.
“Soldier,” Olivia tried.
“That’s right, Raquel’s daddy is far away in Afghanistan.”
“Aftercan?”
Jocelyn said the word a few more times, far better prepared to answer questions about war in a foreign country than Olivia’s father. But Olivia’s attention had already waned, sleep finally claiming her. At that moment, Jocelyn felt the tightness in her throat ease as Olivia’s eyelids drooped.
Skirting the edge of Fairmount Park, Jocelyn took 33rd Street to Ridge Avenue. Three-story, brick row houses with mansard roofs and dormer windows sat opposite the park, many of which were burnt out or boarded up. Some had sagging porches and trash-lined sidewalks. The turrets and columns had long lost their aesthetic appeal. The larger homes gave way to two-story row houses with bay windows, most of which were painted in shades of brown and deep red. She passed Mt. Vernon Cemetery and drove down West Hunting Park Avenue, home to a slew of mammoth industrial buildings. Long abandoned, the broken glass in their windows was like fangs glinting at her as she passed. The streets narrowed as she drove down Germantown Avenue, but the houses and businesses looked no less desperate as she approached the Nicetown Tioga section of the city. She was grateful that the rumble of cobblestones and old trolley tracks beneath her tires did not awaken Olivia. Foliage closed in from both sides of the street as Jocelyn drew closer to the neighborhood where the mother of her best friend, Inez lived. Inez worked patrol in the 35th District. Her mother, Martina provided daycare for Olivia and Inez’s four-year-old daughter, Raquel, while Jocelyn and Inez worked.
Jocelyn lived in the Roxborough section of the city, but she had to stop at Martina’s house to pick up the treasured blanket that Olivia had left there the day before. They had only discovered it was missing last night. Olivia had thrown the tantrum to end all tantrums before finally falling asleep in Jocelyn’s arms on a wave of hiccupping sobs. There were a few tense moments when Jocelyn almost broke down and called Martina to see if she could pick up the blanket, but she stood her ground. People forgot things, left them behind. Olivia would have to learn that sooner or later. A night without her blanky would not kill her—and it hadn’t. Still, Jocelyn wasn’t about to go another night without it. Raquel was spending the day with her paternal grandparents. With no children to watch, Martina had gone to Atlantic City for the day, but she had promised to leave Olivia’s blanky in a plastic bag between her screen and front doors.
Chew Avenue was a busy street with wide single lanes of traffic in each direction and cars parallel-parked bumper to bumper on either side. As usual there wasn’t a parking spot within a three-block radius. Jocelyn pulled over and double-parked with her hazard lights flashing. Cars zipped around her vehicle without so much as a beep. In Philadelphia, double-parking was the norm. The blinkers were an added courtesy which most double-parkers didn’t even bother to use.
Jocelyn glanced at the house. The screen door was cracked just a little; and there was a flash of a plastic, yellow Shop Rite bag peeking out. She peered back at Olivia and paused a long moment to see if Olivia would wake up now that the car had stopped moving. But the snoring continued unabated. Jocelyn turned away from Olivia, catching her own smile in the rearview mirror. Just looking at Olivia made her grin. Most of the time, she didn’t realize she was doing it. It amazed her that this tiny person could be such a powerhouse of joy.
Unless she doesn’t have her blanket, Jocelyn thought wryly.
Jocelyn took a quick look up and down the street, gauging how long it would take her to sprint to Martina’s door and back. It shouldn’t take more than ten seconds. As a rule, she never left Olivia alone in the car—not even when she was paying for gas—but the door was only twenty feet away. It would be faster to run for it than to unfasten Olivia’s seat belt and carry her to and fro.
Jocelyn slipped her seat belt off and got out, closing the door softly behind her. She sprinted up the steps and snatched the bag from between the doors. As she turned back to her car, she saw the figure, just a blur in her periphery. Then her Ford Explorer drove off down Chew Avenue with Olivia in the back seat.
Jocelyn leapt off the steps and ran into the street.
“Olivia!” she screamed.
She had never run so fast, and was only vaguely aware of the other cars whizzing past, beeping and swerving to avoid her, expletives rolling out of the mouths of passing motorists. The Explorer made the first right onto North 21st Street and Jocelyn followed, arms and legs pumping, feet slapping the pavement, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She reached for her gun but quickly remembered she didn’t have it. It was her day off.
“Dammit.” 
She was losing ground as the Explorer turned right onto Conlyn and out of her sight.
“Olivia!”
Every muscle in her body strained and screamed, her lungs burning. She turned the corner and almost wept with relief. The Explorer was stopped behind someone who had double-parked in the middle of the street. There wasn’t enough room for it to pass. The other car’s blinkers were on, the driver nowhere to be seen. For once, Philadelphia’s narrow side streets were a blessing instead of a curse.
Breathing heavily, Jocelyn approached the Explorer from the drivers’ side and opened the door. She didn’t look; instead she grabbed and grabbed until she had a handful of clothing. She pulled a skinny, punk kid—maybe nineteen or twenty—out of the car by his collar.
His face was pimpled with a patchy five o’clock shadow. His white-blond hair was greasy, a shock of it falling across his coal-dark eyes as he glared at her. “Hey, what the fuck are you—”
The whole world went silent. Jocelyn knew the kid was speaking, but she couldn’t hear anything. Her field of vision narrowed to his face. And when he met her eyes, for a brief, fleeting second, he looked afraid. Then Jocelyn hit him. She hit him again and again. He fought back, but his ineffectual punches glanced off her body; no match for her rage. By the time she was done, she had a few bruises and her right wrist throbbed, but she didn’t remember the particulars. She only remembered hitting him until he lay at her feet, unmoving. Her vehicle had rolled forward a few feet, bumping the rear of the car that was double-parked. A few people had come out of their homes. They stood on the pavement and on porches, staring open-mouthed.
Jocelyn’s hearing returned slowly. Her labored breath was deafening. She left the kid on the ground and pulled open the back door of the Explorer. There sat Olivia in her car seat, face flushed with sleep. Her little round face was relaxed, her mouth open. A strand of brown hair stuck to one of her cheeks. She sighed softly in her sleep, one tiny hand clutching Lulu, the pink beanie bear that accompanied them everywhere.
“Oh God,” Jocelyn gasped. She put her Explorer in park and then sat in the back, weeping uncontrollably. She dialed 911 on her cell phone.
“911. Where’s your emergency?”
Sobbing.
“Miss? Where’s your emergency?”
“Philadelphia. I want to report a carjacking.”

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BIO:
Lisa Regan is a crime fiction author.  Her first novel, Finding Claire Fletcher won Best Heroine in the eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook Awards 2013.  It was runner-up for Best Novel.  It was also a Digital Book Today Best of 2013 ebook selection.  In December 2013, Finding Claire Fletcher and her second novel, Aberration were #1 Amazon bestsellers in the Kidnapping and Serial Killers categories, respectively.
Lisa is a member of Sisters In Crime.  She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English and Master of Education Degree from Bloomsburg University.  She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and daughter. 

ONLINE LINKS:
· Website –  http://www.lisaregan.com ;
· Blog –  http://www.lisalregan.blogspot.com ;
· Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lisa-Regan/189735444395923
· Twitter – @lisalregan
· Goodreads -  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6443334.Lisa_Regan

Buy Now
Amazon   http://www.amazon.com/Hold-Still-Lisa-Regan-ebook/dp/B00J2BHONO/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1398016036&sr=1-3&keywords=Hold+Still
B&N  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hold-still-lisa-regan/1118931695?ean=9781495206801

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Release Day Blitz 6/1

June 25 to July 25 Blog Tour

Wicked Sexy by Anne Marsh

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Wicked Sexy
Uniformly Hot!
By: Anne Marsh
Releasing June 17th, 2014
Harlequin Blaze

Blurb
Too sexy to resist?Danielle Andrews was supposed to be on her honeymoon. Instead, she’s back on Discovery Island licking her wounds and running for shelter when she sees Daeg Ross coming her way. Years ago, on this very beach, Dani started something with the special ops aviation rescue swimmer. But she refuses to be tempted by the wickedly hot military hunk again.Daeg Ross is used to jumping into treacherous waters. But his feelings for relationship-shy Dani are a whole new type of risk. They are volatile—and irresistible. When their lives are threatened by the invading winds and endless rain of a tropical storm, Daeg and Dani are forced to take shelter and ride out a wild night. Together, will they sink…or swim?Uniformly Hot! The few, the proud, the sexy as hell!
BLACKHIPPIECHICK’S REVIEW:
This book had me sucked in from the very beginning, after all, who can resist a story about a former Navy special ops hottie. He’s back on the island that used to be like home, the only one he’d ever had anyway.
He is surprised when he discovers the bikini clad woman he’s been admiring, is the only woman he’s denied himself. When she discovers his eyes on her she is hit with overwhelming emotion; she can’t believe her luck, not only is she dealing with being alone on what should be her honeymoon, but the first man she’d ever loved, but rejected her, is staring at her with a fierce hunger in his eyes.
Find out if Daeg & Dani can overcome their past, and allow themselves a chance at true love.
Or, will his fear of commitment, and his past rejection & the pain of her broken engagement prevent them from having the love they deserve?
Link to Follow Tour:

http://www.tastybooktours.blogspot.com/2014/04/now-booking-tasty-virtual-tour-for_26.html

Goodreads Link:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20523640-wicked-sexy?ac=1 

Buy Links
Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Sexy-Uniformly-Anne-Marsh-ebook/dp/B00I66BOC8/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid =
B&N:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wicked-sexy-anne-marsh/1118053004?ean=9780373798094 
iTunes:  https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/wicked-sexy/id818500363?mt=11 
BAM:  http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Wicked-Sexy/Anne-Marsh/9780373798094?id=5984650947909

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Author Info
After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the laptop translating Engineer into English, Anne enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just to the 7-11 for slurpees), and reading books curled up with her kids. The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the question: “So… what do you do with a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures?” She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and four cats.
You can reach Anne Marsh at http://www.anne-marsh.com or email her at  annemarsh@ymail.com

Author Links
http:// www.anne-marsh.com/
http:// /annemarsh.wordpress.com/blog-

https://twitter.com/anne_marsh/ 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/545315.Anne_Marsh

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Website  |  Blog  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads

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The Nightlife San Antonio by Travis Luedke

Title: The Nightlife San Antonio

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Author: Travis Luedke

Series: The Nightlife Series

Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance/Vampires

Publisher: Self Published

Release Date: June 9th 2014

Edition: eBook with Print Coming Soon

Blurb/Synopsis:

 

Vampires, Mafia & Mayhem:

The Nightlife San Antonio is violent, sexy, and occasionally violently sexy.

All she wanted was to escape the police. All he wanted was to get laid. They both got more than they bargained for.

 

EMT on call, Adrian Faulkner resuscitates a beautiful woman after a Mexican mafia shootout. He can’t explain why he picks her up in the hospital parking lot three days later and then ducks the San Antonio police and the Feds. Well, the hot sex might have something to do with it.

 

She needed to hide. With no memory of even her name, she didn’t know from who. She only knew she wasn’t safe.

 

Adrian soon learns she is much more than a damsel in distress, and he’s stuck with her. It isn’t long before the past she cannot remember begins to catch up with them both…

 

THE NIGHTLIFE SAN ANTONIO is a non-stop thrill ride through the shadowy borderworld of mafia politics and vampires – and sex.

 

Grab your copy of this urban fantasy romance today!

 

The Nightlife Series novels are Adult Paranormal Romance ~ Urban Fantasy Thriller:

 

#1 THE NIGHTLIFE NEW YORK

#2 THE NIGHTLIFE LAS VEGAS

#3 THE NIGHTLIFE PARIS

#4 BLOOD SLAVE

#5 THE NIGHTLIFE LONDON

#6 THE NIGHTLIFE SERIES OMNIBUS (Books 1-4)

#7 THE NIGHTLIFE SAN ANTONIO

Book Links

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Author Information

Travis Luedke is a husband, father, and author of Urban Fantasy Thriller, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary Fantasy, Young Adult Fiction, and Sci-fi. He is currently catching a 3rd degree sunburn in San Antonio, Texas, and loving every minute of it.

As the author of the Nightlife Series novels, Travis lives very vicariously through his writings. He invites you to enjoy his macabre flights of fancy, but be warned: The Nightlife Series is violent, sexy, and occasionally violently sexy.

Author Links

Amazon Author Page

Blog ~ Personal

Blog ~ The Nightlife Series

Email ~ twluedke@gmail.com

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Dangerously Bound by Eden Bradley

She wasn’t as innocent as he remembered. He’s twice as wicked as she ever imagined.
“For those who are born to New Orleans, it’s in your blood. It lingers there no matter where you go. BDSM is the same sort of thing. If you’re born to it—the way you were, the way I was, whether or not you want to accept that—you can never shake it. It shapes the way you think, the way you respond to…everything. And those who were a part of unleashing those desires…you never forget them, either. That’s what you did for me, Mick. For me, not to me.”
~Alessandra ‘Allie’ LeClair

~~~~~~
She can whip up something sweet… Allie LeClair has finally returned to the sultry city of New Orleans. After ten years of studying and working as a pastry chef in San Francisco and all over Europe—and feeding her submissive side at BDSM clubs—Allie is home, and she has something to prove to the man who once fueled her desires. She’s not a child anymore. But with two in the kitchen… When security specialist Mick Reid hears that Allie is back in town, he knows he won’t be able to stay away for long. Ever since he discovered his darker side, Mick has tried to protect Allie from the aggressive beast within him—but that power and wildness is exactly what she wants. Can they take the heat? Allie has made the first move, but now it’s up to Mick. The game has begun, and playing has never been so rough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT from DANGEROUSLY BOUND by Eden Bradley

She waited while he walked around the truck to open her door. He lifted her down, his big hands around her waist, and his touch burned into her, making her need all the more acute. She could barely stand to wait as he led her up the walkway, up the steps, took her keys and opened her front door.
He grabbed her wrist, encircling it with his strong fingers.
“Bedroom,” he demanded. “Or it’s going to be right here on the hall floor.”
She nodded and led him down the narrow hall.
He was on her almost the moment they passed through the doorway, stripping her down until she was naked and barefoot once more. Her pulse was a hot, thready beat in her veins, her chest, between her thighs. Desire was something solid, palpable, nearly unbearable.
She put her hands on his chest, tried to unbutton his shirt.
“Mick . . .”
He took her wrists in his hands and pulled them down to her sides, held them there as he looked into her eyes, and she understood, her mind shifting gears. If they were going to be together right now they would be in role, submissive and Dominant. She understood his need to leash his desires. Understood how dangerous he felt he was to her.
She would show him tonight she could take it. That the full darkness inside him was exactly what she wanted, yearned for.
He moved around her, one hand on her body, sliding over her stomach, her side, her back. He stood behind her, and she waited for whatever would come next, her heart hammering, her body aching for more.
When he wrapped his arm around her neck and tightened just enough to restrict her breathing, she felt his command with an enormous sense of relief.
Oh, yes.
She closed her eyes as he pulled tighter. With his other hand he swept her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. She loved the combination of roughness and gentleness. Even trusting him enough to do this bit of breath play with her was erotic. Her body flooded with desire, her legs going weak. Even weaker when he bit into her skin, just hard enough to hurt.
She moaned.
“Yeah, baby girl. I want to hear it now. I want to hear everything you’re feeling. Every groan. Every panting breath. Give it to me.”
She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, and he slid his hand into her hair, grasped it at the roots and pulled tightly.
“Oh . . .”
“You like this. It makes you feel taken over, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I like the way your whole body bows when I pull your hair. The way I can see your yielding in the way you move. It’s beautiful. And so, so hot”
He pulled harder, the pain making her gasp.
“You like that, too.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered, anyway.
“Yes, Mick.”
He pulled until her neck bent back as far as it could. He pulled harder and she had to arch her back. And groaned when he bent to kiss her throat right where it met her shoulder—her favorite spot.
“Oh yeah, I remember, Allie. I remember everything about you,” he murmured against her skin before he bit her.
“Oh!”
Her legs nearly went out from under her, but he had a firm hold on her. He licked her skin, then bit again, harder this time, hard enough to make her draw in a long, deep breath as she tried to manage the pain. Then his tongue bathed the sore skin once more, a lovely sensation.
When he lifted her arm and bit into the delicate skin on her inner bicep, she gasped. He followed the bite with a soft, lingering kiss, then helped her straighten up and turned her around to face him.
“Can you stand by yourself?”
She nodded.
When he let her go she swayed on her feet, and he steadied her. “You okay, baby?”
She smiled. “Perfect.”
He stroked a finger across her cheek. “Yeah, I think you are. But let’s sit you down.”
He moved her until she felt the edge of her bed at the back of her knees, and he helped her to sit. He was so caring of her, so protective. It was one of the things she’d always loved about a dominant man. It was one of the things she’d always loved about Mick.
As he took off his shirt, she remembered what else she’d loved about him, but his chest and arms were even more developed now. The tattoo he’d gotten right out of high school, the fleur de lis that was the symbol for the city of New Orleans with the words New Orleans Fire Department in a bold font arching around it, stood out against his pale golden skin, and she noticed once more the Latin script on his forearm. She’d always loved tattoos on a man.
And his abs . . . they were absolutely flawless, a full six-pack that looked as if they’d been cut from granite. She’d felt those hard planes of muscle when he’d held her close, but seeing his body was another thing altogether. It was all pure, male beauty, rough and masculine in the same way his face was. All of him matured in a way that made him seem all the more male.
The lines of his body flexed and rippled as he bent over to unlace his big black boots. When he straightened she saw the jagged scar on his ribs from the old motorcycle accident, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers over that hurting place. She wanted to run her fingers over every inch of him. But that would have to wait until—if and when—there was going to be sex between them without these roles. He was clearly in charge now. And tonight, their first night together again, it couldn’t be any other way. She didn’t want it to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~
BIO:

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As someone involved in BDSM practice for over twenty years as a switch, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author Eden Bradley loves to write about the sensuality and complexities of kink. She has published dark, edgy erotica and erotic romance for Bantam, Berkley, Harlequin/HQN, Black Lace Books and Samhain Publishing, and more recently she’s ventured into self-publishing. Her books have been translated into German, French, Romanian, Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, Czech and Japanese.
Eden, who is obsessed with art, tattoos, shoes and her Boston Terrier puppy, has appeared regularly on Playboy Radio and conducts workshops on writing craft and writing about sex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
LINKS:
http:// www.EdenBradley.com
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BUY LINKS:
Amazon:www.amazon.com/Dangerously-Bound-A-Dangerous-Romance/dp/0425269620/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1381166094&sr=8-1&keywords=dangerously+bound%27 

B&N:http:// www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dangerously-bound-eden-bradley/1115811929?ean=9780425269626 

Wedding Belle Blues by Mia Epsilon

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Virtual Book Tour Dates: 6/20/14 – 7/4/14

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: 6/20/14

 

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Short Blurb:

What do you do when the woman you love is marrying the wrong man? Sabotage the wedding!

Long Blurb:

Anna is planning the perfect wedding, but she doesn’t anticipate her future mother-in-law’s offer of help’ which translates into take over. Her groom-to-be avoids her and insists their growing problems are just ‘bridal nerves’. Worst of all, her best friend, Robin, begins to act strange. Everyone around her has his or her own agenda. What’s a girl to do when she begins to realize the perfect life she envisioned is all a lie?

Robin has two great loves in his life: his best friend Anna and his motorcycle. Not one to make a scene, he supports Anna in her plan to marry the wrong man and regrets she can’t accept his ‘dare devil’ lifestyle. But when push comes to shove, he’s more than willing to make the necessary sacrifice and prove he is the man she needs.

As the wedding date grows closer and plans shift into high gear, Robin and Anna grow closer and not just as friends. Each must decide what the perfect life truly means while trying to negotiate the maze of wedding plans, secrets, and hidden motives. Will someone be left singing the blues?

Excerpt:

“Chasing you would be a wasted effort.” Robin waved the half eaten slice before he set the crust back in the box.

Anna slammed the lid on his hand. “What do you mean? I’m not worth the chase?”

“Hey, starving teacher here.” He knocked on the inside of the box and glared at her. “And don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re worth a chase, but even I can recognize a no win situation regardless if I can’t fully give up on it or you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He was hiding something besides his hand in the box. “Robin?”

The liquid blue fire in his eyes singed her as he spoke. “I didn’t give the let’s-forget-this-ever-happened-and-just-be-friends speech. I didn’t stay too afraid to see where our relationship might have gone. No win situation.”

Stunned, she gaped at him. “I thought…but you never said…I mean we’d…”

He just stared at her, face unmoving, his chest rising and falling as his breaths increased. He was, she realized, getting angrier by the second.

She swallowed and tried to find words, any words, to defuse the tension. “I couldn’t bear to think of losing you as my friend. We did the best thing for us.”

“We did the best thing for you.”

“But you…you agreed with me. You said you didn’t want to risk our friendship either.”

“What the hell could I say?” He shot to his feet, knocking the pizza box to the floor. “You didn’t give me a choice. Either be your friend, only your friend, or leave your life.”

“I never said we couldn’t be friends or you had to leave my life.” She whispered the words. Yet it had been close.

“Even now you won’t face it.” He muttered a curse which shocked her with the anger behind it. “Will you? You won’t admit maybe we could have—”

“I faced it the morning after. I’m not an idiot, Robin. When you date a woman, it’s like your skydiving adventures. You have a thrill, anything goes, and it’s awesome and you’re on the high of it all. Then you land and it’s over. You never talk to the woman again, let alone have a friendship with her. I didn’t want our friendship to be over. I still don’t. I can’t give more than I am. I can’t.”

“Why, Anna?” He stopped right in front of her, hands on his hips balled into fists. “Why can’t you give more? Because of Doug Dufuss?”

“No. Because I can’t just have sex with you and then watch you leave!”

 

Buy Links:

Breathless Press

All Romance Ebooks

Bookstrand

Amazon

 

About the Author:
Mia Epsilon lives with her enduring soul mate hubby in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, USA. She’s an avid reader of almost anything but particularly romance, a never-miss-an-episode viewer of Doctor Who and Sherlock, and happily suffers a coffee and chocolate addiction. She can most often be found at her computer, spinning new stories, or in a quiet padded nook with her e reader. Look for more stories in the ‘Weddings by C & C’ line.

 

Connect With The Author:
Breathless Press
Facebook
Amazon Authors Page
Blog Website
Twitter
Goodreads

 

Giveaway:

Enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card! The giveaway will run 6/20/14 – 7/4/14. Enter through Rafflecopter!

 

A Year in Retrospect

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I have learned many things over the past year, some of them are good and some of them not so good.I’ve learned that I’m a hell of a lot stronger than my ex, mother & even myself at times, gave me credit for being. I’ve learned that even though I felt like my heart was broken into a million pieces, it was possible to feel love again. Surprisingly, this heartbreak wasn’t over my marriage….My best friend and brother will have commited suicide a year ago, on the 22nd of this month.

His death is what left me broken, wondering if I could make it. I literally kept thinking to myself that I didn’t know how I was going to go on without him. When someone kills themself it makes you wonder what you missed, what you could’ve done differently, for things to have gone another way. It makes you question EVERYTHING!I’m not really sure how many days I went without sleep in the beginning, but I know I tried to read every Facebook message we’d written to one another. I don’t know why, but I felt like I’d find the answers in our conversations.I didn’t.

His death made me feel completely, and utterly vulnerable. It wasn’t that I didn’t already feel this way, I did but, I had gained more confidence in recent years. I’m not sure that there is anyone alive who doesn’t feel vulnerable at some point in their lives. I think it’s different when you grow up in an abusive household though; when a parent(s) is abusive towards you, it makes you question your worth and value. After all, if your own parents couldn’t love you, then how can anyone else? My friend had been the person to show me that there were people who still cared about & found value in my existence. We met when I was 16 & living in a shelter for teenagers,he was on leave and doing a little recruiting for the Navy, at his alma mater.

When he died, I was scared to feel again. I wasn’t just scared to feel love, I was scared to feel anything good. Eventually, I got to the point where I started to allow myself to feel good things. I was even able to stop taking any of the anxiety medicine that my doctor had given me, after his death. I didn’t know it at the time but, I was still scared to feel love. I entered into relationships where I couldn’t truly, expect to receive uconditional love. My partners were never able to offer a situation where I could be significant member in their lives. I guess looking back at, that’s how I wanted it to be. If they couldn’t offer me their love unconditionally, then I wouldn’t miss it when they didn’t give it to me.

I am in a poly relationship with an amazing man, my sissy (and his lifemate ) & his submissive. I love my sissy with all of my heart, in fact she became my sissy, before I was in an amorous relationship with any of them. I’ve not talked to my Papa’s submissive yet, but that is in the works. Honestly, I’m a little terrified….I know, I’m supposed to be happy that there are that many people who love him & I can honestly say that I am. I love my sissy, and when I’ve had problems she calls & helps me pull my head out of my ass…lol. I’m sure Papa’s submissive is an amazing woman, too. How can she not be, if she’s my sissy’s best friend?

Unfortunately, even though I logically know and understand all of these things, I am still scared. I know that I’m feeling this way, which is a major step for me; in the past, I’ve tried to push people away when I began to care for them too much. It was easier for them to leave if I pusshed them away, because then they weren’t abandoning or rejecting me. I talked to my Papa last night, and I told Him that I was scared. He told me that He & sissy love me, and I shouldn’t doubt the love T/they have for me. I guess it’s not exactly a matter of doubting their love, I know that my Papa & sissy, love me. In a way, I feel like that 11 year old girl, who just got beaten for the first time; I’m scared that something will change & I just won’t matter anymore. What happens when I’m not good enough, when I just don’t make the cut?

I’m scared because I’ve let myself love them, and start to depend on their love & friendship in my life. What happens if it goes away? Will I still be strong enough to make it, if they decide they no longer want me? Damn it, it would be nice to have my friend around to talk to and hug, hear his awful jokes, and see his awful memes. I guess I’m not really sure how to protect my heart, and allow love in at the same time. I also have another part of me, a very selfish side of me, that wants to find someone else to be with outside of T/them. I know it’s purely selfish, because I want someone who will be there to give me their time & their love. How can we all get equal time with Papa? It’s not that I’m not allowed to be in a relationship outside of the one I have with them; hell, they encourage me to go out & have fun, which as crazy as it sounds makes me feel even more insecure. If T/they love me, why do they want me to go be with other people??? I should have prefaced this piece by saying that I’m a poly virgin, lol….as in, this is my first truly poly relationship. I am learning something new, and feeling something different everyday.

I hope that this time next year, I am stronger. I hope that I’ve either gone back to school or I’m in the process of writing a book…creating a linguistic painting, so to speak. I hope that my MS is still not flaring up, and I’m only dealing with the leftover effects from past exacerbations & fibro. Most importantly, I hope like hell that I’m happy! I hope that I don’t push the people that I love away because I get too scared of caring about them. I also wouldn’t mind having a really awesome girlfriend, and scratching off some of my sexual bucket list items ;)

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