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The Deal Series Author Deborah Ann Rex, The Ex and The Hex Letterbox Love Stories Volume 1 Blood will Freeze by Tony-Paul de Vissage The Tarnished Series by Brita Addams Stacked Deck by Jack Frost The Night Man Cometh by Tony-Paul de Vissage Finding Holland by Grace Ryles Twisted Love by JoAnne Myers Cowboys Never Fold by Lexi Post 4 tales of Betrayal when lies, lust, and deceit are unleashed Available now on Bookstrand.com Ravens of War 3 Nikki's Fated by Suzette Rose Cauler Award Winning Author, Lexi Post Loves Myths and Monsters by JoAnne Myers Bookstrand Best Selling Author, Suzy Shearer Check out al of Shirley's Books Zane's Choice:The Doms of Club Mystique 4 by Mardi Maxwell Mirage by Denyse Bridger Amazon Best Selling Author, Christina Tetreault Claiming Her Temporary Men by Grace Ryles Matrix Crystal Hunters by Janice Seagraves Rescued by her Alien Warriors by Doris O'Connor

Monday, October 31, 2016

SPOTLIGHT: The Wait for Red Roses by Larion Wills #Romance #Contemporary @LarraineWills



Hired to impersonate another man, John had his own agenda. Convincing Cindra to sign papers to divorce the man who deserted her five years before, the job he was hired to do, didn’t suit his purpose. If the family was willing to pay to have his face reconstructed to be Curt, then there was more involved than the slippery lawyer claimed. Cindra, however, turned out to be an unexpected problem. She wanted the divorce she thought she already had and suspected every word he said.
To Cindra, he looked, sounded and felt like Curt, but something was off. Despite little things he did to remind her of the past, he didn’t know things he should and was too nice to be the over-controlling and abusive Curt. Confused and then frightened by his insistence that she was in danger, she found herself with no one to turn to. Trust him again, believe him or maybe find herself dead.


Excerpt: PG
“Are you going to slam the door in my face?”
Cindra snapped her hanging jaw shut and jerked up straight, her hand still on the door, looking ready to do just that. “Not yet,” she murmured.
Nor was she going to invite him in. That was obvious. Curt—his name for the time being—didn’t expect more. He hadn’t even expected as much as he was getting. Curtis Wellborn the Third walked out on her and their three-year marriage five years ago. She had every reason to slam the door in a face carefully constructed with surgery to look like Curtis.
“You let your hair grow out,” he commented, knowing only because the provided pictures of her included one from five years ago as well as the present. The short, sophisticated style of then had altered to well past her shoulders in a long, wavy, slightly wild, dark-haired gypsy look.
He knew instantly he had said the wrong thing.
Cindra’s slender body stiffened even more under the conservative business suit she wore, one at odds with the carefree look her hair and bare feet gave her. Her voice morphed to icy. “It’s how I like it.”
“I wasn’t criticizing,” he told her in puzzlement.
“You never open your mouth that you aren’t criticizing.”
Curt, the name he had to get used to, tried again. “It’s pretty that way.”
“Pretty? That’s different.”
Hoping he’d received the opening he needed, he told her, “I’ve changed, Cindra.”
“If you’re here for the things you ordered me to keep for you, they’re gone, two weeks after you left.”
“I don’t even remember what it was. I just want to talk. Maybe we could pick some neutral place and have dinner.”
“Talk? I’m sure you said all you wanted to say the day you left, and you never gave me a chance to say anything. It wasn’t macho.”
“I was twenty-one years old and a long way from being as smart as I thought I was or afraid I wasn’t. I never had much of a role model, and—”
“Oh, please, not the ‘it was all my daddy’s fault’ excuse.”
“It was my fault,” he stated, moving a step closer.
Cindra backed, and her hand tightened on the door, with her arm tensing to give it a shove.
Curt retreated, careful not to crowd her. Looking like a deer posed to run, she obviously didn’t believe him and wasn’t going to, he feared, at least not soon. Prepared for distrust, he talked faster. “I was a punk with my priorities all screwed up. Let me take you to dinner and talk about it, really talk, you and me.”
“No.”
The door shut. She didn’t slam it, but it was definite.


Print   http://www.amazon.com/Wait-Red-Roses-Larriane-writting/dp/1539143821/

Ebook   http://www.amazon.com/Wait-Red-Roses-Larion-Wills-ebook/dp/B00C2BOVG4/



Sunday, October 30, 2016

#GIVEAWAY with today's spotlight: CHASING DREAMS by Alison Mello #Romance @alisonmelloauth @limitlessbooks




CHASING DREAMS
by Alison Mello 

Be sure to enter for your chance to win an eCopy of

Love Conquers Life: Books 1-4



Release Date: April 5, 2016
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
SYNOPSIS: Young, gorgeous, and with the voice of an angel, Skyler Jones dreams of becoming a singer… 

After the death of her parents in a tragic car accident, there’s nothing to tie twenty-five-year-old Skyler to the East Coast. But if she’s learned one thing, it’s that life is short. So with aspirations of landing a record deal, she moves to the land of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. 

Sexy, rich, and wildly successful, Logan Michaels’ club is the hottest nightspot in Los Angeles… 

While at his club, Logan spots a stunning woman ordering a drink. In L.A., beautiful women are a dime a dozen, but this one’s different—and so is their connection. He’s never been so infatuated, and he’s determined to know more about the striking stranger. After pulling some strings, he finds out where she works and asks her to dinner. 

They find more than love—they find opportunity… 

After a few dates, Logan convinces Skyler to perform at his club. But when Skyler dances with one of Logan’s connections, he’s unable to contain his explosive jealousy. However, his major screw-up with Skyler is the least of his problems. When a scorned ex-employee seeks revenge in the most deadly of ways, it puts both himself and Skyler’s life in danger. 

Will Logan be able to protect Skyler from the growing threat? 
Or will she run…and write off this chapter of her life as chasing dreams?

PURCHASE:
Kindle Unlimited: http://amzn.to/1Vharfx

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ALISON MELLO: Alison Mello is a wife and stay at home mom to a wonderful little boy. She lives with her amazing family in Massachusetts. She loves playing soccer, basketball and football with her son.

After having her son, Alison started reading again and fell in love with Contemporary Romance. Reading made her happy and gave her something to do when she had downtime. As she started to read more, she started to notice things she really enjoyed in a book and things she didn’t. She began to have ideas for writing one of her own. One day she literally woke up and started writing. She realized that if there was ever a time for her to write, it was now. She had a part time job to give her something to do. The hours at work were slow and she was bored with what she was doing, so while her son was off enjoying his friends over summer vacation she got started.

Alison finished the first book in two weeks and decided that she really enjoyed writing, so she kept going. She already had ideas in mind for books two and three, so she kept writing. That is how the Learning to Love Series was born. Somewhere along the line, one of my Beta readers convinced me that Michael, a character from Finding Love, needed his own story. That is when Alison added the fourth and final book. Alison hopes you enjoy her books as much as she enjoyed writing them.

She’s so glad she started this writing journey and hopes you will stay with her for the ride. Chasing Dreams is scheduled to release in April and the first two books of the Love Conquers Life series will be out this summer!





Leave your comment below for your chance to win an eCopy of

Love Conquers Life: Books 1-4

courtesy of 

Sensuous Promos



Contest ends at 11:59pm EST on November 2, 2016

Saturday, October 29, 2016

Find out about @DenyseBridger's The Devane Files #Historical #Romance



The Devane Files: Book One - OUT OF HELL
Read More HERE: Liquid Silver Books


A murder scene is not exactly the place to find romance. But when Inspector Michael Devane is called upon to solve the murder of Robert Bradshaw, he finds a woman who arouses intense passion in his heart. Unfortunately, she’s at the top of his suspect list! Denyse Bridger brings the Victorian Era alive in Out of Hell, Book 1 of her romance series The Devane Files.

London 1892
Whitechapel was disturbingly quiet as newly appointed Inspector, Michael Charles Devane walked the streets in contemplative solitude. His eyes missed nothing as he strolled, absorbed with the turmoil inside his head, yet acutely aware of all that was around him. It was instinctive, like so much else about his nature. His promotion had come at a difficult time in his career, his friend and mentor, Chief Inspector Fred Abberline had only retired weeks earlier, and Michael frequently wondered if it was Abberline’s influence that had tipped the scales in his favor when it came time for his Superintendent to consider this promotion. His career before Abberline’s friendship had certainly not indicated he would rise in the ranks to this level. He shivered against the sudden chill of memory, drawn inexorably back to the evening a few years ago when he had been recruited into Abberline’s elite H Division unit of investigators hunting the notorious killer who would become known as Jack The Ripper.
Devane had been a mediocre police officer, but several small cases that had baffled other investigators had been solved by his unorthodox and admittedly questionable methods. Like Fred Abberline, Michael Devane knew the district intimately, and he spent long periods of time actually living in Whitechapel. The locals trusted him. The prostitutes had laughingly befriended him in the first years of his adult life, and subsequently, the early days of his career with the police force. He had contacts that even Abberline didn’t have access to, and the then Inspector in charge of the ground forces, wanted Michael on his team. Strings had been pulled, and his transfer had been made in the space of days. If he’d known then what the events of the coming months would bring to his life, Devane might have chosen a more peaceful method for destruction of his mind, his emotional balance, and his life in general.
Mist curled around his feet; the thick, cottony clouds of fog that were uniquely London clinging to his pants with cloying wetness. His footsteps, lost in the swirl of sickly white on the cobble-stoned ground, sounded vaguely muffled. He pulled the collar of his overcoat a little higher and glanced around. There were still people brave enough to walk the streets, but fear lingered behind the boldness of the gazes that met his stare, then slid away too quickly. He shuddered as he spotted The Ten Bells tavern, and the chill of the night sank deeper into his being. Almost four years since the Ripper murders, but it might have been yesterday to many. It felt like yesterday to him. Every time there was a particularly messy murder, it was attributed to the infamous Ripper; and there had been several that did, indeed, look like the madman’s work. After all, the police had never caught the notorious Jack the Ripper. Had they? A great number of people blamed Chief Inspector Fred Abberline. Others were not so specific and targeted anybody who was even remotely associated with the nightmarish case. Few people knew the truth. It would always be that way, too, he knew, truth being subjective, and loyalties as eternally ambiguous as the evidence. Conspiracy theories had abounded at the time of the killings, and many more had been formulated and put forth since those grisly days in the latter half of 1888.
Devane’s sergeant, David Goodwin, chided him often for his penchant for inviting death, whether it was walking the Whitechapel streets, or caught in the limbo dream-world created by his continued use of opium. ‘Chasing the dragon’, as Goodwin, (and a few others), noted with his worry-tainted contempt of the practice. Devane knew the bursts of anger were born in concern, and he frequently ignored what another police inspector would have disciplined in his “junior”. That irony never ceased to bring a flicker of wry amusement to the younger man’s handsome features, and it did so now; Devane felt the telltale twitch of movement at his mouth--just beyond his conscious control.
A hand touched his arm, tugged less than gently, and he turned to look into the lascivious smile of a local whore. He saw a multitude of things in her pale eyes as they looked at each other, among them was the ever-present fear. Her gaze dropped for an instant as she took stock of him, a potential customer. His expression remained passive, and when her head rose to meet his stare a second time, she was apologetic.
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” she mumbled, and ran off before he could utter a word.
Inspector Devane was not typical of her customary clientele, in any way. He was young, exceptionally handsome, and dressed like a gentleman. His eyes were dark, intelligent, and if anyone peered too closely, the shadows of perpetual pain and deeply-rooted loss would become visible. Few people were permitted that privilege, of course.
Devane continued his interrupted walk, and eventually the worn sign of Mitre Street caught his attention. Again, the icy breath of past death caressed his insides. Just beyond the Street was Mitre Square and the ghost of Catharine Eddowes, Jack The Ripper’s fourth victim. He turned away, unwilling to go further in that direction. Abberline had been quick to see the value of his gift of near-clairvoyant insight, and had quickly given him the rare opportunity to be among his men on the streets. It had been a mixed blessing, indeed. He’d gained invaluable experience working with Abberline’s team, but the horrors he’d seen had never quite faded safely into vague oblivion.
The Ripper had been haunting him anew recently. Devane’s dream-vision had once again been filled with gore and terror. Not entirely unique in his experience, but the horror of the attacks, and the violence in the residue that remained with him throughout the day, was vividly reminiscent of the Ripper murders that had occurred over a period of several months. He knew that it was not the work of Jack The Ripper, yet something was drawing him back into that macabre nightmare world that had cost him a piece of his soul, as well as his faltering marriage, and then threatened his very sanity in ways about which he tried to avoid thinking.
His footsteps quickened slightly, and it took only a single heartbeat for him to recognize the reason for it; behind him, the sound of a carriage approaching, moving fast and with purpose. Pulling his thoughts inward, cloaking himself in cultivated control, Devane turned to face the nearing vehicle. Repressing his annoyance, he went to join Goodwin when the sergeant’s broad face appeared in the window and he beckoned.
“Good-evening, sir,” Goodwin said quietly, once Devane was seated next to him and he’d told the driver to continue onward to their destination.
“What is it this time, Sergeant?” Devane enquired, gazing outward, seeing nothing.
Goodwin winced at the resignation in the younger man’s strong, quiet voice. He didn’t really know what to say to Devane a great deal of the time now. Goodwin had worked with Devane for a number of years, and they’d become friends. But, things had changed after the Ripper case. Not in overt ways, but the more subtle undercurrents had shifted into a murky grey area where he was no longer always certain of Devane’s dark genius. Fred Abberline had hinted it might happen, but Goodwin hadn’t believed it; he’d known Devane for such a long time, and his faith had been unshakable, until that terrible case. And, this new one was going to put more pressure on a personality that was fraught with edginess on the best of days.
“Sergeant Goodwin?”
Goodwin started visibly and tried to look away from the intensity of Devane’s expectant gaze. It was impossible. It always had been.
“There’s been a murder,” he imparted cautiously. Devane released him by turning to look out the window again, drinking in the night and its secrets.
“What of it?”
“It was messy, Inspector. They’re already whispering about The Ripper being back at work. Though that makes little enough sense in this case, since the victim is a man, not a Whitechapel bang-tail.”
Devane closed his eyes and leaned back in the safe confines of the jostling carriage. He was suddenly drifting into lethargy, tired beyond weariness. His head fell back and a hiss of breath escaped from between clenched teeth. Before he could hold back the images, blood spattered his mind’s eye and held him in the semi-consciousness of familiar dream-scapes. A scream, deafening yet soundless, split the silence inside his head. He turned, and a graceful, eerily beautiful arc of liquid fire sprayed upward, glistening drops of crimson life held suspended against the stark glow of gaslights. A sliver of silver glimmered, vanished, then returned again, covered in scarlet gloss. Then the screaming amplified and enveloped him for timeless seconds, until it slowly pulsed to a soft, steady heartbeat. Through the haze of red, a face tried to take form, and failed. Devane inwardly twisted away, eager to escape the marred beauty that pleaded with his tortured soul...
“Inspector?”
Goodwin’s concerned shout penetrated the fog, and banished the siren and her song. Devane nodded, opened his eyes, and peered out to look at the pale grandeur of a Kensington townhouse. Two uniformed constables flanked the massive double doors that were the entrance to the place, and Devane knew Goodwin would have two others positioned at the rear of the house as well. As he descended the steps and felt solid ground under his feet again, his equilibrium reasserted itself. Goodwin waited until he led the way, and they approached the house in resolute silence.
Before they had reached the landing at the top of the stairs, the huge doors swung open and an immaculately dressed, somber butler awaited them. They presented an incongruous pair, and the butler’s flickering gaze did a quick inventory of the two policeman. Goodwin was a big man, half a head taller than his companion, and twice his bulk. He was older, with a friendly, broad face that was deceptive about its owner’s perceptiveness. Sharp eyes belied the illusion of a cheerful bear of a man, and his stance was faintly protective as he stood next to the smaller man. Goodwin’s clothes were less stylishly cut and less expensive, as well. But, there was no denying his imposing presence.
“This is Inspector Devane, Mr. Carstaires,” Goodwin said, apparently having already met the typically haughty servant.
The Inspector was a slender man, dressed in a deep midnight blue suit and pristine white shirt with black tie, the knot very slightly askew. He was pale, features fine and angular, very striking in quiet demeanor and possessed of a forceful personality that wasn’t evident until you met his startlingly dark eyes. He wasn’t six feet tall, yet this was the stronger and more dangerous of the two men, the butler realized instantly. Whatever Devane lacked in physical strength was more than compensated for by his quick, agile mind.
“Lady Bradshaw is waiting for you in the Library. The family physician has been sent for,” he added in explanation. “I will inform you upon his arrival.”
“I’ll need to see the body and the crime site first,” Devane inserted quietly. “Then the family.”
Carstaires digested the request, nodded slowly, then changed the direction they’d been going in and stopped at the foot of the long, curving staircase that dominated the huge foyer of the house.
“I believe Sergeant Goodwin can show you which room,” the butler said with a faintly questioning look at Goodwin. The sergeant smiled and nodded, and the expression turned to a soft chuckle as he indicated the stairs.
“Shall we, sir?”
The Devane Files: Book One - OUT OF HELL
Read More HERE: Liquid Silver Books



The Devane Files: Book Two - AN UNSPOKEN BETRAYAL
Read More HERE: Liquid Silver Books

Book 2 of The Devane Files finds our intrepid inspector ready to settle down with his new wife. But problems seem to find their way to his front door. Now, Devane finds himself once again caught up in a mystery that could not only cost him the love of the woman who holds his heart, but his life as well.

Friday, October 28, 2016

Check out PRUDE (Labeled Book 1) by Jordan S Gray #Contemporary @JordanStephanie @EvernightPub

PRUDE (Labeled Book 1)

By Jordan S Gray
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: 9/14/2016
Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Rebecca Washington is a girl in control. Well, at least when it comes to acing her college classes. The rest of the time, she seems to be at the mercy of everyone else. Like when she’s dumped in front of her peers, hit on right afterwards by a jerk for some stupid bet, and then paired up with the jerk for a lit project.

In order to maintain her perfect GPA, Rebecca will need to give a stellar presentation while ignoring the prying eyes that will be staring at her. When her partner, Derek, starts to ease her fears of public speaking with his laidback attitude, she’s forced to confront her new feelings about him and his charming smile. Rebecca knows falling for a guy who teases her for being a prudish nerd can only end badly, but what if it’s just another thing out of her control?


Excerpt:
Derek grinned. “What do you think about your ex’s girlfriend?”
“Obviously that she’s annoyingly beautiful and, apparently, fun.” The word left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I could say the same about you right now.”
Rebecca felt her face redden even more. She pushed her bangs behind her ear, trying to find something else to stare at other than Derek’s mischievous eyes. Nothing seemed worthy.
“I know we’ve been doing well with the whole friends’ thing,” Derek started.
Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. “What now? Are you going to make fun of me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I was just wondering if, as a friend, I’m allowed to ask you to dance.”
She let out a choking laugh. “Here? We’re at a party.”
He gestured to the several groups of people who were dancing. “People dance at parties.”
“I don’t think we should.”
“Because you don’t want to, or because you don’t want to draw attention to yourself?”
“Maybe the latter,” Rebecca mumbled to the ground.
Derek took her hand, pulling her to the center of the living room. At first, their position terrified Rebecca, until she realized it was the most popular dancing spot. In the crowd, she felt shielded from prying eyes, like it was just the two of them.
There’d been times, when Rebecca was home alone and listening to music, where she’d danced. But she had never done so in a public setting or with someone else, and in heels too. She bit her lip nervously as Derek guided her hands around his neck.
“Relax,” he muttered. “It’s just a dance.”
His statement didn’t reassure her at all. Her heart beat faster as she realized that she could feel every inch of him. They were so close. Her head was practically resting on his shoulder, and her body was pressed firmly against his.
The feel of his hands on her waist made her shiver, her crop top inching up slightly as they began to move. Rebecca tried to focus on the beat, but it was really no use. Her fingers clasped together as she mentally reminded herself that playing with Derek’s hair was not a friendly thing to do—even if it looked really soft.
They swayed together, his hands staying rigidly in place. Rebecca wondered what he was thinking about and why he’d decided to dance with her, but it was no use. Derek was likely someone she’d never fully understand.
The song switched to something with a faster pace and erratic rhythm, but Rebecca hardly noticed. Derek moved a hand away from her hip, leaving Rebecca feeling a little colder, until he used it to brush a piece of her fallen bangs behind her ear.
She had no idea how her legs and hips were still moving because, on the inside, Rebecca was totally, completely still. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his breath on her neck. Every single one of her nerves were on fire, zapping around in her body like lightening. Rebecca had never felt more alive … or scared.
One of her hands drifted down to Derek’s chest, and she pressed against it. She hoped that he’d know she was trying to get away, but he only pulled her closer to him. Rebecca let out a gasp, clutching his neck and shoulder tightly.
“Are you having fun?” he asked softly.
Rebecca nodded once, unable to muster up anything coherent. Her brain was shutting down, and she wished it was from embarrassment or anger. No, this was something entirely different. So often Rebecca felt like two-halves of her were always in disagreement, but now, every part of her felt the same. She didn’t want him to let go. 

About The Author:
Jordan S Gray is a full time mother, college student, and writer. She never did quite grow out of that emo stage, and considers coffee, punk music, and Taylor Swift to be the necessary fuel for her writing. PRUDE is her debut novel, and you can find her on Twitter @JordanStephanie where she procrastinates most of her adult responsibilities and all of her schoolwork.


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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32035169-prude?ac=1&from_search=true