Spotlight: Fighting Gravity by Julie Adams

Lily:
A man dubbed The Playboy of Paris is the last thing I need.

I came to Paris needing an ocean and a language between me and my past. 
I need to learn to live again without fear.

Then Tragedy strikes again. I guess some people are just magnets for bad luck.
The only silver lining is the gorgeous man who literally broke down a door to save me.

Can I trust him? Can I trust myself?

Nathan:
Paris is as much me as I am it. We bleed into each other's veins. 
Running one of the biggest indie record labels is stressful, 
and I forget myself with good music and fast women. 
I never meant to save her. And I damn sure didn't mean to fall in love with her. 
Not with the secret I'm keeping.

Lies, lust, and love happen unexpectedly in The City of Light.

Full-length and standalone, with steamy scenes and a HEA 

Excerpt

“Something smells wonderful,” I turn and Lily is standing there looking more beautiful than anything in France. Her hair is tossed over one shoulder, the curls still unruly from last night. And she's wearing my shirt. Not the stereotypical dress shirt from last night, but a sweatshirt I had tossed over the back of the chair yesterday, Blue Holiday Inc. is written on the front. It’s a leftover favor from some event or other.
Sacre bleu, it's like she's been marked as mine. And that thought makes me happier than it should. My heart falters, and I know now as I did last night that being with her is about so much more than sex or getting her out of my system. She's got a grip on me like a song you can't get out of your head.

“Can I help with anything?” She asks kneeling to pet Frankie as he sniffs her bare leg. Even he's in love with her. And by her coos the feeling's mutual. I grin when she squeals as he jumps up and licks her face, she’s giggling while pushing him away to pet from a safer distance.

“Hey, that's mine,” I playfully scold Frankie, who only stares at me and wags his tail. Lily looks at me surprised. “Be a good boy and I'll make you an omelette too.” The dog pauses, decides it's a good deal and lays in his bed patiently watching us.

“He's a cutie.” And by the look on her face, she’s just as in love with him.

“Don't inflate his ego, he's a diva as it is.” Lily laughs and shakes her head shooting Frankie a wink.

I point to the coffee machine, “Can you make the coffee?” I ask.

Lily nods, walking to the machine and running her fingers over its shiny knobs. “Going to be honest with you, I have no idea how this works, it's got more buttons than a NASA control board.”

“It's an expensive pain in the ass, with more functions than I need.” I explain. “Watch the bacon and I'll try.”

She slides past me to the stove, her body brushing against mine and making me grow semi-hard.

“Coffee? Latte? Espresso?”

“Latte, please.”

I set the machine going and admire Lily standing at the stove. My eyes trailing up her legs to the hem of my shirt and I wonder if she's wearing anything underneath. Now I’m full on hard.

I go behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. She smells like soap, my usually masculine scent made feminine and mysterious on her skin. My hand skims her bare thigh and I move her hair to kiss the nape of her neck. “You look incredible right now,”

She tilts her head away as she laughs, “You're just saying that so I'll share this omelette.”

I spin her in my arms and stare into her chocolate eyes. “I could never be lying about how beautiful you are.”

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About the Author

Julie is an author of contemporary romance novels and lives in the Midwest with her family. You can usually find her with coffee and some kind of electronic device that she can read e-books on while chasing her toddler. She stays up too late writing, watching television, browsing social media, and planning her travel bucket list.

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Spotlight: Camden by K Webster

Camden

by K Webster Publication Date: August 10, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

I am intelligent, unassuming, and the son of two murdered parents. I’m calculating, damaged, and seek revenge. I’ll do whatever it takes to further my agenda, even if it means seducing my way into a bed I don’t belong. Anything to make the ones who’ve hurt me pay. My name is Camden Pearson. I am focused, fierce, and power-hungry. The youngest of four brothers. People assume I’m the baby, but I grew up a long time ago. **** First came the Four Fathers. Now it's time for the Four Sons. Nixon (Four Sons, #1) by Ker Dukey - July 20 Hayden (Four Sons, #2) by J.D. Hollyfield - July 27 Brock (Four Sons, #3) by Dani René - August 3 Camden (Four Sons, #4) by K Webster -August 10 ***This series should be read in order to understand the plot.***

Pearson

by K. Webster Publication Date: April 16, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Taboo

Available on Kindle Unlimited!

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I am selfish. Spoiled. A single father. I do what I want because I can. One of my four sons is dating the hot, young little neighbor… Too bad it won’t last long. When I want something, I take it—even if it means taking from my son. My name is Eric Pearson. I am an unapologetic, egotistical, domineering man. People may not like me, but it doesn’t stop them from wanting me.

*** Four Fathers Series by bestselling authors J.D. Hollyfield, Dani René, K Webster, and Ker Dukey Four genres. Four bestselling authors. Four different stories. Four weeks in April. One intense, sexy, thrilling ride from beginning to end! ***These books were designed so you can read them out of order. However, they each interconnect and would be best enjoyed by reading them all!***

Blackstone by J.D. Hollyfield | Kingston by Dani René | Wheeler by Ker Dukey

About K. Webster

K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers. Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Newsletter

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Cover Reveal: Sequence Unbound: The Heart of the Ocean by Lorraine M.L.M

SeQuence Unbound (The Heart of the Ocean #4) 

by Lorraine M.L.M.

Genre: YA Fantasy/Romance

Summary:

When Alessia saves not only Tuscania, but Dante as well, she hopes it will set all the Sequences in order. But things rarely turn out the way Alessia hopes. Instead, she finds herself torn between two princes as the voices and visions in her head become stronger than ever.

While Dante and Jadherey vie for her heart and her hand, a part of Tuscania's protective shield collapses and it is attacked. The invaders have a proposition though—they’ll leave the realm intact if Alessia and her foretold mate are turned over to them in chains. With Alessia and Dante as their key, the Njuzathians plan to break open the gate to Earth and wreak havoc on two worlds at once.

But the Reverse Sequence has other plans—plans that will twist the fate of everyone involved beyond reckoning.

Previous books in the series (click on images for Goodreads links):

  

Want to dive into this enchanting world filled with #magic and discover the power of undying love? Get the first book SeQuence, a #YA #FantasyRomance book for #FREE, today only!

https://amzn.to/2KDNuS6

                                                     

Check out the whole series on Amazon!

About the Author

Lorraine M.L.M grew up in the Heart of Africa among a rich storytelling tradition. This is where her love for Fantasy was born. She writes heartfelt young adult romantic fiction. Her love for reading prompted her passion for writing. She loves all genres of romance but has a special and inherent interest in Fantasy/Romance in particular uplifting and thought provoking fiction. 

She relishes the dual role of being an author and a creator of new worlds. She loves stretching her imagination to the ends of the world, but her utmost goal is to bring characters to life. She craves to find the magic in the ordinary, the enchantment in the plain, and the dreams in the reality.

Lorraine lives with her family in the charming Norfolk city of Norwich in England. Norwich is England’s first UNESCO City of Literature, and she's truly honoured to be part of this community. 

If you would like to keep up-to-date with news of her forthcoming releases, you can sign up here: http://lorrainemlm.com/vip-reader-access/

Author Links:

    

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Read an excerpt from Come Back by Sally Crosiar

Vi Masters wonders…can you come home again? More, she wonders why anyone would want to. She fled upright, backwater Freedom, Iowa at seventeen and hoped never to return. But this time, she can’t stand up against the pleas of the aunt who raised her. It’s one weekend. How bad can three days be?

Three measly days in a wonderful eighteen-year marriage – that’s what Vi’s stepmother hopes. But what if Ben discovers what Tammy knew about why his daughter ran away – something he seems determined to finally find out? She can’t be sure Ben would forgive her, and that’s got Tammy scared to her bones.

One day in and Vi has to face how Aunt Sadie is failing, Caregiving will surely wreak havoc on Vi’s hard-won career, but how can she not? At least she might be able to turn the party Sadie’s planned into a night even Alzheimer’s won’t let Sadie forget.

But that’s before Vi finds out Nate Barlow has moved back to town. Now after all she’s already survived, Vi must dig deep for courage. Nate will never be able to accept Vi’s past. Will he? Who knew hope would be so scary?

Excerpt

Chapter 13

Vi

Hair by Lindy, where Sadie’s gone since time began, is just a few blocks from the Pinewood. Across Grove, up Maple, past the Elementary School and Library, right on Main. Funny how I still knew the route. Maybe our feet hold memories our brains don’t have room to keep.

My feet were on their own as I left the Pinewood. My head was too full. Seeing all those folks from my girlhood felt like a bushel of Nerf balls hurled at me. Soft greetings and wishes shouldn’t hurt. But so many bombarding me at once? I felt a little bruised.

Add a few sharp and pointy missiles mixed in with the Nerfs, and I hurt plenty. Connie aimed her arrow straight at my center. Direct hit.

She thought I had it coming. And maybe I did. Poor Nate.

But what he might face was the last thing on my mind when I left. Away – that was the only thing. Away. Away from that house, away from Freedom, away from what happened. And then I didn’t think again – couldn’t – till Opal took me in. One foot in front of the other was all I could do.

Even now I couldn’t think, or it all came back – the horror and pain. Can’t let it in. Not if I want to survive. For too long, I asked if survival was what I wanted. Alive didn’t look so good back then. And thinking? Way too risky.

But now, I couldn’t escape the thinking – and what came with it. Blinding. Sharp. Full-strength pain. Waves on waves of it. My feet carried me onto the school playground. I sank onto a swing and gave in to sobs. I hadn’t cried so hard since I was seventeen. Why should it hurt so much now? Why?

But I knew why. It wasn’t the horror of that last night that slapped at me. I’d dealt with that – more or less. But the sweetness before the horror? There was a missile aimed sure and true.

Nate. Oh God. Nate.

What a shock to see him! Why did Sadie never say he moved back home? Oh God. Nate.

What a shock to feel that same warm gladness roll through me just to see his face. Until the ice of Connie’s anger – and Nate’s apparent indifference – launched grenades.

I rocked on the swing and gasped great gulps of air. Can’t breathe. Forgot how. I wasn’t quick to catch on again.

Get hold of yourself Vi! Think!

No! Hurts to think! Can’t think about all I missed – all that was stolen – with Nate!

There it was. My feet braced and my body bent over double. Nate was the black hole I never let myself think about all these years.

That old commercial came in my head. I ought to conk my forehead, say, “I could have had a V-8.” Duh. All these years, all that therapy, I focused on the wrong guy. I should have talked about Nate.

I slumped back and let myself swing back and forth. Sobs subsided into staccato bursts. My head filled – not the last dreadful hours – but the honeyed scenes that stabbed to my core.

I was so young, I thought. So young and so in love. And it seemed like maybe – just maybe – I wasn’t alone in love. Oh that kiss. That sweet, sweet kiss.

Rage came in hot, fresh spurts. Damn JT! Damn him. He had no right. Old news. Now I saw mine was maybe not the only life he stole. Damn him. He had no right to plunder such bright and hopeful sweetness.

Some sane calm voice – not mine, surely not mine – sounded in my head. “Why this fresh fury, Vi?”

I didn’t know! I didn’t see what he took from me!

“Didn’t you? I wonder why?”

Not Ruby. Ruby would grab and hold on. Opal? No doubt. Opal never offered sympathy. She relied on damned calm sanity. Slow down and let your own sanity kick in.

I breathed deep. All right. Why does this pain and rage pierce so deep? Why now?

The scene of the crime, I thought. Of course I feel it more here.

“Justifiable.” The Opal in my head nodded. So much for sanity. “Atta girl,” she said. “When you start to laugh – even a little – sanity’s not far behind. But you know that’s not the whole story.”

Oh dammit, Opal. I don’t know.

“Sure you do.”

Okay! I never let myself think about Nate. That night. Before.

“No. You never did. Because…”

Because it hurt too much! It hurts too much now!

“I know it hurts. But not too much. Not more than you can handle now.”

Handle? Christ, I can’t handle this.

“Sure you can girl. And you will. Starting now.”

Heavy footsteps on the playground gravel replaced the voice in my head. I turned away, dashed hot tears from my face, until a big hand grabbed at the swing’s chains just above my head.

Oh shit. Just what I need right now. Ben.

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About the Author

Sally Crosiar lives in the Finger Lakes of New York State where she reads incessantly, enjoys time in and on the water, savors dark chocolate with red wine at every opportunity, and teaches about health and play for Empire State College. She is the author of Find the Love of Your Life, based on her own true story, My Uncle Dave, a children’s book with an adult message, and co-author with Dr. Sidney B. Simon of Love Builders: Tools to Build Every Relationship. Come Back is her debut novel.

Connect: Website | Facebook | Twitter: @SallyCrosiar | Pinterest: Healthy People Press | Goodreads

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Spotlight: Brave New Earl by Jane Ashford

An Earl mired in melancholy is no match for a determined woman…

Widower Benjamin Romilly, Earl of Furness, has given up hope of finding happiness. His wife died in childbirth five years ago, leaving him with a broken heart and a child who only reminds him of his loss.

Miss Jean Saunders is a cousin by marriage. She doted on Benjamin’s late Countess, and can’t bear it when she hears rumors that the Earl is too bereaved to care for his young son. She arrives on the scene to evaluate his fitness as a father, and if necessary, to take his son away.

Jean’s sudden eruption into the Earl’s household simultaneously infuriates and invigorates him. She may be the only person who can breathe life into his neglected home—and his aching heart…

Excerpt

Toward the far end of the attic, Jean came upon a row of leather trunks bound in brass. Resettling her lamp securely, she opened the first. The scent of camphor wafted out at her. Pushing aside a layer of tissue paper, she unearthed a swath of satin brocade in an exquisite shade of peach. Although the fashion of another era, it was one of the loveliest gowns she’d ever seen.

There was no one around, and she was so tired of the few outfits she had with her. She couldn’t resist. She slipped off her much plainer gown, placing it out of the dust on a sheet of tissue, and slithered her way into the peach creation.

The dress was a bit large on her. Fortunately, it laced up the side so she could reach to pull it tighter, but the shoulders still threatened to slip off. Her shift and stays showed above the low neckline, and without the elaborate underpinnings such a garment required, the skirt sagged around her in heavy folds. Even so, she felt very grand.

“Very elegant,” said an appreciative male voice.

Jean whirled and nearly lost the dress. She frowned at Lord Furness, who stood near the head of the attic stair, as she pushed the shoulders back into place. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my house.”

“Yes, but you went riding.”

“And I returned.” Benjamin strolled toward his disheveled houseguest. In his ancestress’s gown, Miss Saunders was an unsettling combination of little girl playing dress-up and lush courtesan, with her clothes falling off and her curling hair making a determined break for freedom.

She gathered the heavy skirts and retreated to a rank of trunks a little distance away. “I was just… I’ll put on my own gown.”

Benjamin walked a bit closer.

“If you will go away.”

“But I came up to help you look for toys for Geoffrey.” It was an increasing delight to tease her. There was something so charming about the look she got, which said she knew precisely what he was up to and refused to stoop to acknowledge it. And yet she couldn’t help but react.

“I haven’t found any.”

“Only a hoard of finery.” Benjamin walked along the row of trunks and glanced inside them. He picked up a satin coat. “I think I remember my grandfather wearing something like this, with lots of lace at his shirtfront. Perhaps it was this very coat.” He held it up and looked closer. “I’m not sure. He died when I was around Geoffrey’s age.” He smiled at his disheveled companion. “Grandpapa didn’t care much for change at the last. Or for what people thought of his appearance. He wore what he liked.” Geoffrey would have appreciated that attitude, Benjamin thought. “He had a dueling scar across his cheek.” His hand went to his own face to demonstrate. “A bit puckered and quite frightening, as I recall. They don’t seem to go together—all this frippery and bloody sword work.”

“I imagine gentlemen took off their coats when dueling,” replied Miss Saunders.

Benjamin laughed.

“You should try it on,” she added in an odd tone.

He looked at her, hands clutching the brocade bodice to keep it from sliding off, a beam of sunlight shining through the uninhibited glory of her hair. Holding her gaze, Benjamin slowly took off his coat. “No wigs,” he said. “I draw the line there.”

“I haven’t found any,” she answered breathily.

He donned the bright satin garment. It fit well enough, only a little tight in the shoulders. It felt strange to have wide skirts around his legs. He made an elaborate bow. “Pon rep, my lady, I am so pleased to see you. I hope I find you in better health?”

“What do you mean, better?”

Benjamin straightened. “I’ve been concerned about you since—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “My…outburst in the library was quite uncharacteristic, I assure you. It won’t happen again.”

“No apology is necessary.”

“I wasn’t apologizing.” Coppery glints snapped in the depths of her eyes. “Only informing you that all is well.”

He didn’t believe her, though he couldn’t have said why. Her bearing and expression were calm, her manner quelling. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about the bout of weeping, and he had no right to press her. Why should he wish to? “I don’t know how ladies moved about in those gowns.” He indicated the sweep of peach brocade trailing over the floorboards.

“With stately elegance,” she replied.

“That is to say, very slowly. Have you seen the sort of shoes they wore? Teetering along on four-inch heels must have made it hard to run away.”

“From what?” she asked with a quizzical glance.

“Anything.” Benjamin had spoken randomly. All his attention was on her, leaving his tongue unsupervised. “Bears.”

“Bears?” She laughed.

It was a delightful sound. Benjamin realized he hadn’t heard it nearly often enough. Irresistibly drawn, he stepped closer. “Or impertinent admirers.”

“The gentlemen wore heels, too,” Miss Saunders said. “So it would have been an equal race, mincing along the cobblestones in a satin-draped procession.”

She looked up at him, still smiling. Her eyes were suffused with warmth now, her lips a little parted, and Benjamin couldn’t help himself. He moved closer still and kissed her.

Just a brush of his mouth on hers, an errant impulse. He pulled back at once.

She leaned forward and returned the favor, as if purely in the spirit of experiment. Benjamin felt a startling shudder of desire.

In the next moment, she’d twined her arms around his neck, and they were kissing as if their lives depended on it. He buried his fingers in her hair, as he’d been longing to do for days. It sprang free and tumbled over his hands, a glorious profusion of curls. Hairpins rained onto the attic floor.

Then she pulled back and blinked at him, her eyes wide, dark pools. Her arms dropped to her sides. She took a step away, and another. “Oh.”

The small sound was a breath, a worry, an astonishment. Benjamin struggled with his arousal, glad now of the long, concealing coat.

Miss Saunders put her hands to her wild crown of hair. The lovely lines of her body were outlined in peach brocade and sunlight. “Oh dear.”

“I could help pin it up, if you like.” Benjamin bent and gathered a handful of hairpins.

“No, you couldn’t.”

He gave her the pins. “I have a deft hand,” he said.

“My hair is beyond deftness. It has to be wrestled into submission.”

He nearly lost his careful control at the phrase and the thoughts it elicited. “I have strong fingers.”

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About the Author

Jane Ashford discovered Georgette Heyer in junior high school and was captivated by the glittering world and witty language of Regency England. That delight was part of what led her to study English literature and travel widely. She’s written historical and contemporary romances, and her books have been published all over Europe as well as in the United States. Jane has been nominated for a Career Achievement Award by RT Book Reviews. She lives in Los Angeles, California.

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Read an excerpt Tiffany Blues by M. J. Rose

NYT bestselling author, M. J. Rose crafts a dazzling Jazz Age jewel--a novel of ambition, betrayal, and passion with TIFFANY BLUES. TIFFANY BLUES is now available! Check out the tour below, and pick up your copy of TIFFANY BLUES today!

New York, 1924. Twenty‑four‑year‑old Jenny Bell is one of a dozen burgeoning artists invited to Louis Comfort Tiffany’s prestigious artists’ colony. Gifted and determined, Jenny vows to avoid distractions and romantic entanglements and take full advantage of the many wonders to be found at Laurelton Hall.

But Jenny’s past has followed her to Long Island. Images of her beloved mother, her hard-hearted stepfather, waterfalls, and murder, and the dank hallways of Canada’s notorious Andrew Mercer Reformatory for Women overwhelm Jenny’s thoughts, even as she is inextricably drawn to Oliver, Tiffany’s charismatic grandson.

As the summer shimmers on, and the competition between the artists grows fierce as they vie for a spot at Tiffany’s New York gallery, a series of suspicious and disturbing occurrences suggest someone knows enough about Jenny’s childhood trauma to expose her.

Supported by her closest friend Minx Deering, a seemingly carefree socialite yet dedicated sculptor, and Oliver, Jenny pushes her demons aside. Between stolen kisses and stolen jewels, the champagne flows and the jazz plays on until one moonless night when Jenny’s past and present are thrown together in a desperate moment, that will threaten her promising future, her love, her friendships, and her very life.

Excerpt

March 13, 1957
Laurelton Hall, Laurel Hollow
Oyster Bay, New York

I lost my heart long before this fire darkened its edges. I was twenty-four years old that once-upon-a-time summer when I fell in love. A love that opened a door into a new world. A profusion of greens, shades of purples, spectrums of yellows, oranges, reds, and blues—oh, so many variations of blues.

I never dreamed I’d come back to Laurelton Hall, but I always trusted it would be there if I ever could visit. Now that will be impossible. For all that is left of that arcadia is this smoldering, stinking mess.

Somewhere in this rubble of charred trees, smashed tiles, and broken glass is my bracelet with its heart-shaped diamond and benitoite charm. Did my heart burn along with the magical house, the primeval forest, the lush bushes, and the glorious flowers? I’m not sure. Platinum is a hard metal. Diamonds are harder still. Or did just the engraving melt? And what of the man whose hand had grabbed at the bracelet? His muscle and flesh would have rotted by now. But what of the bones? Do bones burn? Back when it all happened, no report about a missing artist was ever made.

I take a few tentative steps closer to the rubble of the house. Bits of glass glint in the sun. A shard of ruby flashes, another of deep amethyst. I bend and pick up a fragment the size of my hand and wipe the soot off its surface. With a start, I recognize this pattern.

Patterns, Mr. Tiffany once said, be they found in events, in nature, even in the stars in the firmament, are proof of history repeating itself. If we see randomness, it is only because we don’t yet recognize the pattern.

So it shouldn’t surprise me that of all the possible patterns, this is the one I’ve found. This remnant of the stained-glass clematis windows from Oliver’s room. I remember how the light filtered through those windows, radiating color like the gems Mr. Tiffany used in his jewelry. How we stood int hat living light and kissed, and the world opened up for me like an oyster, offering one perfect, luminous pearl. How that kiss became one more, then a hundred more. How we discovered each other’s tastes and scents. How we shared that alchemical reaction when our passions ignited, combusted, and exploded, changing both of us forever.

Clutching the precious memory, I continue walking through the hulking mass of wreckage, treading carefully on the broken treasures. I listen for the familiar sounds—birds chirping, water splashing in the many fountains and the endless rushing of the man-made waterfall that I always went out of my way to avoid.

But everything here is silent. Not even the birds have returned yet.

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About the Author

New York Times Bestseller, M.J. Rose grew up in New York City mostly in the labyrinthine galleries of the Metropolitan Museum, the dark tunnels and lush gardens of Central Park and reading her mother's favorite books before she was allowed. She believes mystery and magic are all around us but we are too often too busy to notice... books that exaggerate mystery and magic draw attention to it and remind us to look for it and revel in it. 

Her most recent novel TIFFANY BLUES (Atria/S&S) was chosen as an Indie Next Pick and takes place during the Jazz age at Louis Comfort Tiffany's Long Island mansion/ art colony. 

Rose's work has appeared in many magazines including Oprah Magazine and she has been featured in the New York Times, Newsweek, WSJ, Time, USA Today and on the Today Show, and NPR radio. Rose graduated from Syracuse University, spent the '80s in advertising, has a commercial in the Museum of Modern Art in NYC and since 2005 has run the first marketing company for authors - Authorbuzz.com

The television series PAST LIFE, was based on Rose's novels in the Reincarnationist series. She is one of the founding board members of International Thriller Writers. 

Website: https://www.mjrose.com/content/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMJRose