Kostya is a Prince who knows his roll in the family, he may not agree with his fathers tactics but he was born to step into his place when it was time. Lately his father has been pressuring Kostya about marrying, but before he puts the action to place he is summoned to attend to the American Ambassador’s family and meets Hazel.
Hazel did her due diligence and read up on the country she was visiting, but it doesn’t help her from making a few faux pas along the way. Hazel finds a unique friendship with Kostya and an attraction that is undeniable. The problem is though that they are not supposed to be together, however not every rule is written in stone.
Great read, was swept off my feet. I liked Kostya a lot, you can tell he is not happy with his place in life and knows he has no choice but to do his duty. Loved Hazel, she was a breath of fresh air.
(Angelbound Worlds, #1)
Published by: Monster House Books
Publication date: February 25th 2020
Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult
“Anyone into fantasy and other worldly experiences would enjoy these books. I am officially addicted!” – Rachely, Goodreads
I am the archangel Xavier,
General of the Angelic Army.
My life began at the dawn of time,
And in all the long eons since
I have only known war, never love.
Enter the Angelbound Worlds, a new series of novellas that take place within different areas and eras of the after-realms (Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, the Dark Lands, and Antrum). Don’t miss Book 1 in the Angelbound Worlds series, in which the archangel Xavier shares how he finally fell in love.
Suggested to read after Angelbound Origins Book 1.
“SUCH interesting stories!! I love the characters, the plot, the writing style. Unique, beautiful, not sappy with the romance, but steamy enough to keep my interest. DEFINITELY recommend!” – Keri, Goodreads
Christina Bauer knows how to tell stories about kick-ass women. In her best selling Angelbound series, the heroine is a part-demon girl who loves to fight in Purgatory’s Arena and falls in love with a part-angel prince. This young adult best seller has driven more than 500,000 ebook downloads and 9,000 reviews on Goodreads and retailers. The first three books in the series are now available as audiobooks on Audible and iTunes.
Bauer has also told the story of the Women’s March on Washington by leading PR efforts for the Massachusetts Chapter. Her pre-event press release—the only one sent out on a major wire service—resulted in more than 19,000 global impressions and redistribution by over 350 different media entities including the Associated Press.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.
Twelve Months of Awkward Moments
Publication date: August 30th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
Dani can’t wait for senior year at college. A straight-A scholar whose anxiety is a daily struggle, being awkward, introverted, and studious has become a way of life. She vows this year will be different. It’s time to move beyond her comfort zone, but that’s not easy.
Dani’s wild roommate and handsome best friend hate each other; her crazy family won’t leave her alone; and a new job forces her to be social. Unfortunately, when college romance finally calls, Dani is unable to answer thanks to a stalker who has her all tied up.
Can she stay alive long enough to find love and graduate?
Shaded under the dim porch light, Shami sits outside in a black jacket at a picnic bench near his apartment. He’s surrounded by a few friends but stands out as he is a good head taller than those around him. I’m confident as I saunter toward him in leather pants and strappy wedge sandals that highlight my long legs. My jacket is unzipped, exposing my lace-trimmed tank top. A bathroom run before leaving the bar showed my long hair remained under control, no frizz.
“How was the bar?” he asks.
“Good, you should have joined me there.” I run a hand through my hair for show.
“No car.” He smiles sweetly.
“So sad.” I grin. The two cans of hard cider leave me less than drunk but give me a bit of an edge. I feel good, which usually leads to trouble, and consider switching to beer. I hate the taste, so I’ll drink less and remain more in control. Small talk swims like a school of minnows as we catch up.
I pose the question I really want the answer to, and I realize why I need the hard cider. “What happened after our date?” I really mean, “Why didn’t you text me?” He squirms over, and his movement reminds me of a caterpillar. I work hard to stifle my giggle.
His hand finds my leg. “I had to go to Israel and was traveling.”
“Really? You couldn’t text from there? Or once you got back?”
“I guess I should have. Sorry.”
Silence invades for long seconds. I’m out of conversation topics and sobering up. I close my eyes as the brisk night air pushes against my cheeks. I hear the bench squeak as we adjust ourselves on the uncomfortable wood seats. I taste the awkwardness of the moment in my mouth. Finally, we throw out questions to each other to cover the disconnect.
Shami stands and stretches. “You have a car, right?”
“Yes.” I’m reluctant to say more, realizing where this is heading.
“Let’s go for a ride.” His white teeth shine in the darkness.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’ve had a couple drinks.”
“I haven’t. I’ll drive. Plus, it’s super close.” He holds out his hand. I hesitate, but then dig through my purse and hand him the keys, already understanding I’ll hate myself in the morning for doing this. We take off. I’m relieved Shami is a capable driver, but I smell his excessive cologne. To my overstimulated senses, it reeks. The fact he is in control of my car makes me feel like a cornered animal, yet I did this.
I’m confused when we enter the dark parking lot at McDonalds. Shami cruises into a spot in the far corner away from the entrance. An awkward silence ensues as he remains in his seat. With the heat blasting, the interior of my tiny Toyota Matrix warms quickly, and my leather pants stick to my skin. Shami takes his jacket off, revealing a gray T-shirt underneath. His hand slithers to my thigh, and I ask myself where the polite, sweet college student who held the door for me at the Hookah lounge has gone and who has replaced him.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I remove his hand from my leg, placing it none-too-gently on his side of the car.
“That’s why we’re on this date, right? You want to hook up, right?” He touches various parts of his own body.
“I see the way you’ve been appraising the Shami. You want this.” The muscles under his T-shirt flex.
Now I’m repulsed. His third-person reference to himself sounds stupid, conceited, and immature. “What I want is to get to know you.” I eye the McDonald’s sign and wonder if “The Shami” takes all his super-fun dates here.
“You got me. I’m the best thing at the Connecticut Central State College.” He leans over and tries to kiss me. I give him my cheek and then jerk back.
“I’m beginning to doubt that.”
“You’re not giving away any sugar?”
I feel my eyes bug out, wide open. “Here in the parking lot? Are you kidding me? Who does that?”
His cocky expression sours. Clearly, he knows I’ve called him a male slut because he seems to like lurking in dark corners of fast food joints. “You’re turning out to be a drag. Man, I’m hungry.” He focuses on the building. Shami opens his car door, and the scent of fries wafts through the air. Without a word, he leaves me in the passenger seat. I wait, unsure of what to do. I want to leave. Unfortunately, he took my keys with him. The jerk. The hopeful part of me perks up. Maybe this date will be salvageable. He probably darted inside to get us milkshakes.
I’m almost correct. Shami arrives with a milkshake, fries, and quarter pounder for himself. I watch as he devours them. My stomach growls.
“That put me in a good mood,” he says as he finishes his food. His snake-like hand embraces my arm, but I am certain he was aiming for another part of my anatomy. He squirms closer. I scoot away, my butt colliding with the door. He doesn’t notice. I attempt to avoid him as he angles in for a beef and onion-flavored kiss. It’s sloppy at best. I shove him away.
My stomach growls again. “We could go out for drinks and dinner?”
“I just ate.”
I smell the pickles and special sauce as he talks, his lips transforming into a dour frown. “Listen, if this isn’t happening tonight, I think I’m going to hang with the boys.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.”
We drive home in silence. In the parking lot, he hands me my keys and heads off without a backward glance. I sit in the car, stunned, and realize I get to look forward to an entire year of running into him in the complex and on campus. My life is just one happy merry-go-round of fun. As I make my way back to my apartment, I felt a cool breeze on my thigh. I gaze down to witness the long split in my leather pants. All I want now is to inhale some left-over veggie Pad Thai, curl up under my comforter, and cry. The crazy part? This isn’t the worst date I’ve been on.
Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and adjunct faculty at the University of Phoenix. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, daughters, two dogs, and horse. When not writing, she mountain bikes, hikes, and tries to pursue some type of further education.
Release Date: September 23, 2018
Cover Design: Hang Le
Photographer: Michael Stokes
We’ve all done it, salivated
Over a guy at the gym, imagined the unimaginable.
Wanted what we can’t have.
Only my fantasy has turned into an obsession.
Every night like clockwork he’s there.
Every night like clockwork I’m ready.
I’m not the kind of girl who does this kind of thing and
he’s exactly the kind of man that does.
He’s as sexy AF.
Dominant as all hell.
Built like a machine.
And when he turns up at my work
My worst f**king nightmare.
I swipe my key through the door scanner. It’s 9:35 p.m and I’m late. After not wanting to come at all, and deliberating the whole thing for over an hour in the shower, I’m finally here.
I’m not really sure why, but what the hell. It can’t hurt, I suppose.
I walk into the gym and take a look around. There are a few guys working out at the back, plus a girl on the treadmill.
Great. He’s not even here.
All that over-analysing for nothing
After making my way onto the treadmill I start walking. I turn up the speed and begin to walk faster. I suppose I’ll have to actually work out then. What an anticlimax. I spent over an hour psyching myself up to be here, and he doesn’t even show up.
All men piss me off.
Oh well, it’s his loss.
Turning up the speed, I begin to jog, getting lost in the repetition. But when I look up into the mirror, I see him. There he is. He’s sitting on the weights bench in the corner, and flashing a slow sexy smile my way. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and navy sports shorts.
My stomach dances with excitement. I force him a smile, and then I look down, pretending to be uninterested.
God, he’s so….
He’s probably just a prop in this place. That’s what I would do if I owned a gym: pay gorgeous guys to hang out and make the girls swoon. It makes good business sense, that’s for sure.
I run for fifteen minutes, and he does weights as he watches me. To be honest, I wish he would look away because I’m dying over here. I can’t run for this long naturally. I’m totally showing off. I may go ass over tit at any moment and skin my knee to the bone.
One man finally leaves the gym, and then five minutes later the other one follows. The group of guys walk out the back, leaving only one woman in the gym who is doing sit ups. His eyes trail over to her, and I wonder is he thinking the same thing as me.
Buzz off, woman. Why are you in the gym so late, stupid?
I stop running and bring the treadmill back to a walking pace. I wipe my face with my towel, grateful when the lady packs up her things and leaves through the front door.
Brock’s eyes find mine in the mirror and a dark smile crosses his face.
Shit. My heart begins to beat faster. I keep walking, and he stands to make his way over to me.
“Hello,” he purrs.
I smile goofily. “Hi.” Why does he have to be so damn sexy? I can’t even pretend to be cool.
He puts his hand over mine on the handrail, and I feel an energy zap between us.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says.
My eyes hold his as my stomach flips. “Y-you have?” I pant.
He nods slowly, his eyes not leaving mine for a single second.
“What were you thinking about?” I ask.
“I was thinking that I need to talk to you in private.”
God, is he for real? “Is that so?” I look around the empty gym. “Is that why you had to wait for everyone to leave to come and talk to me?”
“Well, I didn’t want anyone to be suspicious of the two of us talking the other night in the bathroom.”
“Talking?” I smirk. “Is that what you call it?”
He smiles sexily, and my stomach clenches yet again. Don’t smile at me like that.
“Yes.” He pauses as he rolls his lips, as if amused. “It was a very stimulating conversation.”
I smile as I continue to walk.
“For some more than others,” he adds.
Unable to help it, I laugh. “Yes, it was a very stimulating conversation that we had the other night.”
His eyes hold mine. “Did you enjoy it?”
What’s it going to be? I get a vision of Simon last night with that girl.
Sink or swim.
“I did.” Our eyes are locked. “Very much, actually.”
Oh, this guy makes me want to be a dirty whore.
Satisfaction flashes across his face and he licks his lips. He runs his hand up my forearm, his eyes following his touch. “I have something else to tell you.”
I act surprised. “You do?”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you here, Pocket.” His eyes rise to my lips.
“Why not?” I feel the burn of his gaze.
He takes his hand off my arm, and it causes me to frown. I hate the loss of his touch. “So, where do you want to tell me this private information?” I ask as I play along.
“We should probably talk where we talked last time.” He rolls his lips to hide his smile, he likes this game.
“Really?” I widen my eyes.
He nods slowly. “Really.”
I continue to walk on the treadmill.
“So, I’m going to go into the discussion room now.”
“The discussion room?” I widen my eyes and laugh. “You are something else.”
“I know,” he chuckles, and then gestures up to the ceiling. I look up, following his direction.
There’s a camera…
“I’m going to go into the discussion room, and in five minutes, you should do the same.”
“But, they’ll see us?” I whisper.
“No, they won’t. Once you come into the bathroom, you just have to stay in there for five minutes. If we don’t enter or leave together, the tapes won’t be looked at. Not unless there is an incident and they have to be watched back.
“Oh.” I frown, and without another word he disappears up the hall with his gym bag. I walk for another five minutes with my heart beating out of control. This is so naughty, so freaking hot, and I have to say, so out of character for me that it’s not even funny.
I’ll just go and talk to him—see what he has to say. I hope he kisses me again. His kiss was to die for. Who the heck is this guy, anyway?
I would never do this. I am not the sort of girl who meets up with guys in a public bathroom. My eyes flicker to the hallway as my excitement runs through me.
I hit stop on the treadmill with my heart hammering in my chest. I take my towel and drink bottle, and then I walk up the hall to the bathrooms. I look up and see the camera at the end of the hall positioned so it shows all of the five bathroom doors clearly. I drop my head to hide my face.
As long as I don’t walk back out, he said I’m fine.
God, if anyone ever knew I was doing this, I’d die.
I walk to the end door and take the handle in my hand. I pause for a moment and close my eyes. My heart is banging, and I look back up the hall one more time. Should I go? No. Just do it.
I open the door and rush in, quickly closing the door behind me. I flick the lock and turn around.
The room is filled with steam and the shower screen is open. Brock is naked in the shower when he turns to face me.
His large shoulders and chest have soap over them, and his hair is already wet. His stomach is rippled with muscles, and his huge hard cock hangs heavily between his legs.
He smiles sexily. “Took your time, Pocket.”
Oh, dear God. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Brock!” I frown as I stare at him. “What the hell are you doing?”
I glance back to the door, damn it. I can’t leave for a few minutes.
He looks at me casually and rubs the soap in across his chest. “Taking a shower, what does it look like?”
“You’re incredible.” I shake my head in disgust. “I’m leaving right now.”
“Why?” He gives me a slow sexy smile and holds his hands out to the side. “Taking a shower is a perfectly natural thing. I wanted to be clean for our conversation.”
“You want to have a conversation with me with,” I gesture to his groin, “with your dick hanging out.”
He looks down at himself, and then back up at me. “Does my dick offend you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Your dick offends me.”
I glance down again. That is the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen. Okay, sure, I haven’t seen many, but I’m still sure it’s the most perfect one there is. For fuck’s sake, this guy is so over confident, I don’t even have words to describe him, and why the hell is it turning me on?
This is un-fucking-believable. How on earth did I get myself into this situation?
Brock continues to rub soap over his chest, eventually lathering his groin area up, too. I have to concentrate on not looking down again.
“Why?” he asks.
I frown. “Because… because…” I look around as I search for the right choice of words. “It’s the assumption you make that I am comfortable with you being naked when I’m not.” I shake my head and throw my hands in the air. “I’m so not.”
“If it makes you feel more comfortable, I am completely fine with you taking your clothes off, too.” He shrugs casually. “You know, for our discussion.”
I smirk. Of all the hide. “You’re an idiot.”
He smiles that sexy smile again, and I feel my insides begin to melt. “I prefer to think I’m just honest.”
“How is this being honest?”
“Well.” He pauses as a moment as he soaps his groin up again.
“Will you stop doing that!” I snap. “It’s very distracting.” I concentrate hard on keeping my eyes focused on his face.
“Big dicks don’t lie,” he says, raising his brow.
I stare at him, completely lost for words, even though I really want to howl with laughter. “You did not just say that?”
One of Five ARC’s for Gym Junkie
Originally from Sydney, Tee Swan now resides in a dreamy beachside town on the South Coast of Australia with her hunk of a hubby, their three children and a menagerie of spoilt pets.
She loves Margaritas, Chocolate and a swoony good book with a strong storyline. With a background in Mental Health, Tee writes characters that you want be friends with, strong alphas to fall in love with and witty women you want to be.
When she is not writing you will find her in a cafe drinking coffee and eating cake.
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Pack Alpha Aidan Wallace needs to find out if paranormal romance writer Emma Gavin knows something about creatures that go bump in the night. Emma’s stories land a little too close to home and it is Aidan’s job to determine if she is a threat to his pack or not. Aidan doesn’t expect to be attracted to Emma and he takes her out for a drink, he doesn’t expect the attraction to have him thinking about crossing a line. He is alpha after all, he needs a shifter as his mate or does he?
This was great, its one of those books you pick up and savor every moment. Loved the characters in this one and it opens the book up to future books. Great read.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Beth Daigle will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
A trip to the Mediterranean—who wouldn’t be thrilled? Beth Daigle should be doing back flips as she prepares to escape her humdrum suburban life, but travel anxiety gets the best of her. This is a trip of a lifetime, something to look forward to, yet Beth is dreading it.
The daughter of an Italian mother and Greek father, Beth has always dreamed of visiting Greece and Italy. Her Type A husband, Tony, revels in planning every detail of their two-week vacation. The plan expands to include not only Beth and Tony’s two tween daughters, but Beth’s parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew.
As her family’s excitement mounts, so does Beth’s trepidation. She experiences serious anxiety about the flight itself, plus spending two solid weeks with her extended family.
Despite her worries, Beth manages the eight-hour plane ride to Rome, and the adventure begins.
If you’ve never experienced the beauty of the Mediterranean, or even if you have, Musing Mediterranean will take you there through Beth’s eyes, page by page.
Read an Excerpt
The moment we were all comfortably seated, we were inundated with food, in the best way possible. We didn’t order one thing; it was all brought to us. Whatever the chef was cooking was what was served, and we thoroughly enjoyed it.
Every plate was also a work of art: each was hand-painted, colorful, and artistic. And before we knew it, music filled the air when the owner’s niece took a microphone and asked all the patrons to join in on a sing-along.
The Italian blond beauty entertained us with her soothing voice, ethnic songs, and gregarious hospitality.
Her rousing renditions of both familiar and unfamiliar songs left us ready to sit back and enjoy the end of our memorable meal. Served family style, it was a meal that included five appetizers, five entrees, homemade wine, pear grappa, and five desserts. It was extravagant, yet unpretentious.
As desserts and limoncello came to the table, so did the owner–chef. Every bite that was served was natural and simply prepared, yet it was the most delicious food I’d ever eaten.
About the Author:
Beth Daigle is a lifelong New Englander residing north of Boston with her husband and daughters. Prior to settling into her role as a writer, Beth was a marketing professional whose favorite part of the job was writing. As a freelancer, Beth has enjoyed contributing to numerous lifestyle and home publications, yet she yearned for something more than a magazine article. Then along came Musing Mediterranean. Beth quickly became immersed in chronicling this travel event and articulating her perceptions of the places she visited, the people she met, the foods she enjoyed and the crazy moments she encountered. The idea that someone who may never travel to Greece, Italy or Turkey could appreciate this experience through Beth’s eyes became a driving force behind the story. Revealing her struggle with travel anxiety helped Beth move forward and embrace, once again, how very wonderful it is to travel the world.
“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” St. Augustine.
Beth is a creative soul who finds joy in art, home design, gardening, reading, writing, a good laugh, and an even better television show.
Nick Spencer is a man who plays the field, it is plentiful and he doesn’t need to get entangled in a relationship. Then he ends up meeting Mia Ferris and his interest is peaked. When Nick ends up saving her he finds himself wanting to protect her with everything he is. However, Mia is in more danger than she realizes and the only man who can save her is Nick.
Had a moment that I had a hard time forgiving Nick for but you get over it. I think if the story had been longer you would have connected a bit more with the characters. Overall entertaining.
Title: The Beautiful Years
Author: Annie Rose Welch
Genre: Mafia Romance/ Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 2, 2018
Cover Designer: Buoni Amici Press
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
If you knew love could kill you, would you still fall?
Be the first to receive exclusive details about The Beautiful Years.
Love never felt dangerous to me. He did.
The moment Brando Piero Fausti appeared in the snow-filled night, he made the blood hum in my veins, tethering my life to his with an irrevocable bond.
I became the light to his darkness, illuminating the face of an avenging angel. His intense dark eyes should’ve warned me away, but they only drew me closer. With a body worthy of a statue in Italy, he was the most beautiful man that I had ever seen, and the most dangerous man I had ever felt. A savage beast lurked just beneath his surface, ready to battle for what he loved the most—me.
He claimed me as his, per sempre. But he wanted something from me. For me. He wanted me to dance. To fulfill what the world insisted was my destiny.
Little did I know that he would lure me into a gilded cage with his beautiful words and searing touch, a twirling ballerina locked safe in a music box, rose petals strewn at my feet. And then set me free, his touch a brand on my skin.
Little did he know, I’d always fight to follow the true alignment of my stars.
Book I in a seven-part Mafia Romance saga.
Born and raised in New Orleans, Annie has a habit of shortening her words and telling long stories. She speaks with a southern flair and cooks with it too. At the tender age of twenty- one, she hitched up her wagons (took her first plane ride) and moved out west to the big shake (California). Her passion for writing began one sleepless night when she imagined a gorgeous woman and a man with maniacal hair floating above her like lightning bugs falling from the sky. Curious about them, their story, and why they were floating around in her head, she sat down and penned (typed) her first novel, Marigny Street. A dream come true for her, she hasn’t stopped writing since. She loves a damn good love story, always has, no matter what the genre. She is particularly moved by imperfect love that in its own unique way is perfect, the notion of love at first sight, soul mates, and things that are generally out of the norm.
When she’s not writing she enjoys dabbling in photography and finding new, inspirational music to add to her collection. She currently resides in Texas (where everything really is bigger) with her husband, daughter, and their three peculiar dogs, Boudreaux, Tabasco, and Vanna Loo (who, call her crazy, bark with an accent).
For lagniappe (a little extra), a virtual cup of café au lait and beignets, please visit Annie’s website: www.annierosewelch.com