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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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.”

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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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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 

Review of Burn for Me by Lauren Blakely

BURN FOR ME
by:  Lauren Blakely

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Book Synopsis: She’s the one fire he can’t put out…
Jamie Lansing has had it bad for firefighter Smith Grayson for as long as they’ve been friends. Yes, he’s ridiculously charming and she might stare a little too long at his abs, but his dirty-talking, rough-around-the-edges ways aren’t for her. Plus, she knows that as a serial dater, Smith isn’t the type to settle down. But then a terrible, fantastic, mind-blowing mistake leaves her body craving more than one night.
Smith Grayson has only ever had eyes for one woman in town—his best friend Jamie. But convincing her a relationship between them will work is next to impossible with her refusing to see beyond his past. But when she asks for a week of no-strings-attached sex to get him out of her system, Smith knows this is his one chance to prove he’s not just the man she needs in her bed, but the man she needs in her life.
Goodreads:   Amazon:    B&N:    Kobo:    Itunes:    Entangled
Entangled Brazen:
Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/BrazenBooks
Twitter: @BrazenBooks   Steals and Deals

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My Review: This book was a quick read, in fact I couldn’t put it down. Not only does it have a great storyline, but it has smoking hot scenes with a firefighter. Believe me, if you enjoy a story about friends who aren’t sure if they want to change the nature of they’re relationship, but can’t give up the chance to have their secret desires met, if only for one night….this is the book for you. Be forewarned, you may need a large glass of iced tea when you read this, to help cool you down.
Author Bio:
Lauren Blakely writes sexy contemporary romance novels with heat, heart, and humor, and her books have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. Like the heroine in her novel, FAR TOO TEMPTING, she thinks life should be filled with family, laughter, and the kind of love that love songs promise. Lauren lives in California with her husband, children, and dogs. She loves hearing from readers! Her novels include Caught Up In Us, Pretending He’s Mine, Playing With Her Heart, Trophy Husband, Far Too Tempting, The Thrill of It, and Every Second With You, Night After Night and After This Night. She also writes for young adults under the name Daisy Whitney.
Website:   Blog:   Twitter:   Facebook:   Goodreads:   Newsletter:

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