No Safeword: Matte—The Honeymoon by Candace Blevins

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No Safeword: Matte—The Honeymoon:
Safeword Series # 8
By: Candace Blevins
Releasing August 1st, 2014

Blurb
The wedding ceremony is over, and the couple is on their way to Hawaii. After so much build-up for the big night, how will Ethan handle it? Sam has no idea, and while she’s pretty sure she’s ready, she’s still a bit nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
Most newlyweds don’t ride bicycles up and then back down dormant volcanos for fun on their honeymoon, but Sam and Ethan aren’t the average couple. They find lots of fun things to do on the islands and in the ocean, and Ethan’s creativity knows no bounds when in the privacy of their secluded beach house.
If you’ve read Safeword: Matte and Safeword: Matte – In Training, you’ve been waiting for the honeymoon. Here’s hoping you enjoy it as much as Sam and Ethan.

 Link to Follow Tour:  
http:// http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/07/no-safeword-matte-honeymoon-by-candace.html 
Goodreads Link:http:// www.goodreads.com/book/show/22285192-no-safeword-matte—-the-honeymoon?from_search=true
Buy Links
Amazon:  http:// http://www.amazon.com/No-Safeword-Matte-The-Honeymoon/dp/1500453757/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1406659029&sr=8-1&keywords=no+safeword+matte+the+honeymoon 

B&N:http://  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/no-safeword-candace-blevins/1119970503?ean=9781500453756 

Author Info
Candace Blevins is a southern girl who loves to travel the world.
She lives with her husband of 16 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.
Candace writes romance books about characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work.
Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. All books are standalone books and can be read in any order, with the exception of the two Davenport books, since Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon is a sequel to Safeword: Davenport.
You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com, or friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins
* Serious Romance * Serious BDSM *

Author Links
http:// www.candaceblevins.com/
http:// www.facebook.com/candacesblevins

http:// https://twitter.com/CandaceBlevins
http:// http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4489132.Candace_Blevins 

http:// https://pinterest.com/candacesblevins/

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Excerpt
Sam awoke first the next morning and slid under the covers. He was soft when she pulled him between her lips, but within seconds he groaned in pleasure and began to fill her mouth.
She intended to get him off, but he stopped her a few minutes into it, flipped her on her back, draped her legs over his shoulders, and gently worked her clit with his lips and tongue.
Sam’s eyes rolled back into her head and she forgot to breathe for several heartbeats. However, after a few minutes she realized he’d stopped her from giving him a blowjob. He hadn’t used her last night, and now he wasn’t letting her pleasure him.
She raised up on her elbows and watched a few seconds before coming to a decision.
“Time out, Ethan.”
He tilted his head to look at her, but kept her clit in his mouth. His tongue ran across it a few times and she had to fight to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head again.
“I was giving you a blowjob, and you stopped me.”
His eyes agreed with her, and then he stopped looking up and went back to work.
She gently bopped him on the head. “Don’t ignore me. I’m trying to talk to you.”
He inserted a finger into her depths, and then another, and Sam fell back, her legs tensed on his shoulders, and she lost control of her body as an orgasm crashed into her with no warning.
She tried to talk through it, but couldn’t come up with an intelligible sentence, and finally gave up and let the bliss sweep her under.
As she regained motor function, she draped her arm over her eyes and let her legs sprawl out to the side. “It seems wrong to call you a jerk after you gave me a mind-melting orgasm, but I was giving you a blowjob and you stopped me, and then you ignored me when I tried to talk to you about it.”
Her voice sounded happy and content, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.
Ethan was still between her legs, and he chuckled before bending to lick her entrance with long, slow, strokes.
“God, you’re impossible. I don’t know whether to beg you to stop, or keep going.”
His tongue kept going, and she added, “We need to talk about why you aren’t using me, and won’t let me pleasure you.” She groaned as he licked and suckled the perfect spot. Quickly losing her resolve, she pulled enough air into her lungs to admit, “But I’m not sure I have the willpower to ask you to stop what you’re doing.”
He brought her to three more orgasms before he kissed his way up to her neck, rolled to the side, and pulled her into his arms.
“I used you pretty hard, and I wanted to give you a little time to recover.” He kissed her forehead. “Take advantage of it while you can.”
“But I wanted to give you a blowjob. How could that be a bad thing?”
“It isn’t, but I’ve made the decision to give you pleasure and pamper you a few days.”
He was holding himself so she couldn’t feel his cock, so she didn’t know if he was hard or not. Her mind shifted into analysis mode, and she ran the possible reasons he might not want to use her, or even get a blowjob.
It hit her out of the blue, and she looked up and said, “You’re sore. My ass feels like someone used a sandpaper-covered toy on it. Your cock has to be sore, too.”
His face told her he was trying to find a way to deny it without lying, and she laughed. “Master Sex-God is sore. Oh, it’s beautiful.” She kissed his chin, and then his lips. “Don’t try to deny it. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me before.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how you managed it the last couple of times, though. If you were hurting as bad as me, why did you keep going?” She paused and added. “How did you keep going?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not as sore as you. Your ass hasn’t had any friction at all until we arrived here, and my cock gets frequent activity. The last couple of times I felt a little tender, but I wasn’t ready to stop yet, and it didn’t hurt bad enough to affect my pleasure.”
He shrugged. “I’m sore enough after the fact, so I figure it’s best to give it a rest.” Soft lips kissed her forehead, then her nose. “I’m quite serious about wanting to give you some rest and lots of pampering, though. You took everything I gave you, and I gave you a lot. I want you to know I understand how hard I was on you, and I appreciate you for it. I don’t want to ever take your submission for granted.”

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Personal Target by Kay Thomas

Personal Target
An Elite Ops Novel
By: Kay Thomas
Releasing July 29th, 2014
Avon Impulse

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Blurb

AEGIS: an elite team of ex-military men working under the radar of most governments. If you have a problem no one else can handle, they can help.A former SEAL and Black Ops specialist who left the CIA, Nick Donovan gave up a life on the edge to work in the private sector. But that didn’t stop his enemies from coming after him—or his family. In a case of mistaken identity, a drug cartel kidnaps his sister-in-law’s best friend … a woman from Nick’s past.One minute Jennifer Grayson is housesitting and the next she’s abducted to a foreign brothel. Jennifer is planning her escape when her first “customer” arrives. Nick, the man who broke her heart years ago, has come to her rescue. Now, as they race for their lives, passion for each other reignites and old secrets resurface. Can Nick keep the woman he loves safe against an enemy with a personal vendetta?

Link to Follow Tour:  http://tastybooktours.blogspot.com/2014/07/personal-target-by-kay-thomas-elite-ops.html 
Goodreads Link:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22308416-personal-target?from_search=true 

Buy Links
Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Personal-Target-Elite-Ops-Book-ebook/dp/B00KACAU5I/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&keywords=personal%20target%20by%20kay%20thomas&linkCode=ur2&qid=1400188200&s=digital-text&sr=1-1&tag=kaytho-20&linkId=VKJ26JGVY7WLJSJ5 
B&N:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/personal-target-kay-thomas/1119566027?ean=9780062290878 
iTunes:  https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/personal-target/id877703928?mt=11 

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Author Info
Kay Thomas didn’t grow up burning to be a writer. She wasn’t even much of a reader until fourth grade. That’s when her sister readThe Black Stallion aloud to her. For hours Kay was enthralled—shipwrecked and riding an untamed horse across desert sand. Then tragedy struck. Her sister lost her voice. But Kay couldn’t wait to hear what happened in the story—so she picked up that book, finished reading it herself, and went in search of more adventures at the local library.Today Kay lives in Dallas with her husband, two children, and a shockingly spoiled Boston terrier. Her award-winning novels have been published internationally.

Author Links
http://www.kaythomas.net/ 
https://www.facebook.com/KayThomasWrites
https://twitter.com/KayThomaswrites

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Hidden Intenstions by Stacy Claflin

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Hidden Intentions by Stacy Claflin 
(The Transformed) 
Publication date: Summer 2014
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal Romance

Synopsis:

Fun-loving Clara is keeping a dark and deadly secret from William, the love of her life.

Not because she wants to hide things from him, but because her story is so unbelievable he will probably think she’s crazy.

If she tells him, she could lose him. If she doesn’t tell him, she will.

Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22081161-hidden-intentions

Purchase

–Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Intentions-Transformed-Standalone-Novel-ebook/dp/B00LDQB0OU/ref=la_B008AXCK1Q_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406561558&sr=1-7

–B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hidden-intentions-stacy-claflin/1119882881?ean=9781498947145

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AUTHOR BIO

I love writing, reading, and watching most anything paranormal. My favorite shows include Supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Fringe, Pretty Little Liars, and Once Upon a Time.

I’ve been writing and telling stories for as long as I can remember. As a kid, my story telling would get me into trouble when I would try to convince others that my stories were real.

When I’m not busy writing, I spend time with my family. I also run a home preschool and educate my kids from home.

You can learn more about my current and upcoming books at StacyClaflin.com. I’d love to hear from you!

Author Links:

http://stacyclaflin.com/

https://www.facebook.com/stacy.claflin.author

https://twitter.com/growwithstacy

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6591338.Stacy_Claflin

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He was the youngest of our family to become a lawyer, but he was persecuted because he often took on clients who were accused of being witches. It was rumored that as a young man, before he met Anna, he had been in love with one of them. Some said he never truly got over her and that was why he—” William froze, staring at a picture.
“Go on.
Williams pulse quickened as he stared at the image. He had never noticed it before, but in the family picture, someone was hiding in the background, in between some trees. She appeared to be staring at the familyand she looked just like Clara.
“Son?
He shook his head, and mindlessly rattled off more facts about the pictures. He couldnt take his eyes off the girl that looked just like his girlfriend. If he didnt know better, he would think that girl could have actually been her. Throw on two hundred year old clothing, take off the modern makeup, and it really could have been her.
No one had ever noticed that girl in the picture before. William wasnt even sure how he was able to see it then. But now that he could see it, he couldnt take his eyes off her. All those years he had looked at the albums, how had he missed it?
Sally came in and announced dinner, and Williams dad took the album and put it back on his shelf. William couldnt stop thinking about the picture. He tried to convince himself that he was imagining it, but the image was burned into his mind, and he couldnt deny what was there.
Obviously, it was impossible for the girl to have been Clara. Could it have been one of her past relatives? How strange that her relative would be in the same picture as one of his.

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

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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

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Release Day Blitz 6/1


June 25 to July 25 Blog Tour

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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.”

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

Disabled Not Dead…Did I Mention I’m Kinky

Disabled Not Dead…Did I Mention I’m Kinky

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Ugh….part of Multiple Sclerosis that is par for the course, is to sometimes have an electrical pulsing like sensation. When your clitoris is the body part that’s buzzing & pulsing it’s torture, it can cause my body to feel like it’s on the edge of an orgasm until it decides it’s had enough.
Do Y/you have any unwanted symptoms, or questions about adaptations, but have been afraid to ask? Look no further, I understand what you’re going through…

Hi A/all,
My name is Kami (I have Multiple Sclerosis) and I run a blog that deals with Disability, Sexuality & Kink. I am trying to provide a space to access information on resources, adaptations that can be made (to toys, with positions, and even to maintain Y/your role in a D/s relationships), and reviews of Erotica & toys. I also want to provide a question & answer section, so that those with & without disabilities will be able to navigate the adaptations that are required to make this type of relationship work.
I NEED Y/YOUR HELP:

*PLEASE, share any questions about Disability, Sexuality & Kink that Y/you might have, this goes for questions about both the physical & emotional sides of these things. Please email me your questions. When writing & answering Y/your questions, I will use a made up name & location.   My email is: blhippiechickreviews@gmail.com

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