Wednesday, September 19, 2018

RELEASE BLITZ/REVIEW – BOOTED by PAM GODWIN

TRAILS OF SIN Series by Pam Godwin



Genre → Contemporary Romance
Theme → Dark, brooding, kinky, lawless cowboys
Series → Each book is an HEA with no cliffhanger. Must be read in order.



Release Dates →
Knotted #1: Available Now
Buckled #2: Available Now
Booted #3: Sep 18, 2018

Buy links →
Knotted #1: FREE on all retailers

Buckled #2:
Booted #3:

KNOTTED Blurb →
I try to forget her.
It’s impossible

First love, first kiss, first…
Not all our firsts.

We were sixteen the night she was violently assaulted while I helplessly watched.
I’ll never forget the sounds of her suffering.
Or my inconsolable agony when she left Oklahoma.

Years later, she returns to honor our teenage pact.
Except the boy she loved is gone, replaced by a ruthless cattle rancher knotted with secrets.
She doesn’t know my dark cravings or the trails of sin that lead to her.

I don’t deserve her, but one truth remains.
She’s mine.

BUCKLED Blurb →
I protect what’s mine.
The ranch, my family, our buried secrets.

Nothing will stop me from reassembling the life that went terribly wrong.
Not the law.
Not our enemies.
Not even Maybe Quinn.

The gorgeous, quarrelsome journalist shouldn’t have meddled.
I shouldn’t have let her stay.
But she’s hiding something in those deceptive blue eyes.
Something deeper than her thirst for a news story.

I make a deal with her to buy time.
To unravel her lies. To play with her. To satisfy my darker appetites.
When she buckles beneath my belt, I’ll send her away.
Unless I buckle first.

BOOTED Blurb →
The night I’m released from prison, she’s in my bed.
It’s been eight years since I touched a woman, and the Native American beauty is half-dressed, beaten, bruised, and devastatingly exquisite.

We’re toxic together, but we want the same things. Blood. Vengeance.
Violent relief in a warm body.

Beneath her touch, I’m alive.
Against her skin, I’m redeemed.
Buried inside her, I forget the past.
Until the past takes her from me.

Prison made me cold, but losing Raina makes me cruel. Ruthless. Unforgiving.
I killed before. For her, I’ll kill again.
I’ll end this once and for all or die in my boots.

SHANDA'S REVIEW


*4.5 stars*

I have been so anxious to get Lorne’s story. I was not disappointed. Lorne has just been released from prison. Jarret and Maybe have brought Raina to the ranch to recover from John’s torture. Lorne is set on discovering why Raina was with John in the first place. Everyone is wary of Raina. Should they trust her? They soon discover that they all have the same agenda. End John.


I really loved Raina and Lorne’s chemistry. They were hot! Lorne’s patience was sexy. He wanted Raina but not without breaking down her walls first. Raina was tough. She is a survivor. I loved her. Booted was a great conclusion to the series. The epilogue was fantastic. 


Author Bio
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foul mouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.

Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.

Author links
Email → pamgodwinauthor@gmail.com
Website → www.pamgodwin.com
Goodreads → http://bit.ly/ZKdcgo
Instagram → http://bit.ly/2FUDceR
Facebook → http://bit.ly/2DGabSc
Reader Group → http://bit.ly/2wLB2Jr
Pinterest → https://bit.ly/2qDyuLW
Books2Read → http://bit.ly/2u2Aket

Friday, September 14, 2018

Jigsaw by Lilly Atlas ~ Cover Reveal

Title: Jigsaw
Series: Hell's Handlers MC
Author: Lilly Atlas
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: November 6, 2018
After being disappointed by her family one too many times, Izzy’s convinced the only person she needs is herself. Seeking a life with fewer relationships, she leaves the bustle of the city and moves to small-town Tennessee. Her plans for quiet and solitude don’t last long after she’s adopted by both the men and women of the Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club.

Once upon a time, Lincoln had a picture-perfect life. Sweet, loving wife, beautiful daughter, enviable career. But one fated night, it’s all wiped out, leaving him scarred both mentally and physically. Now known as Jigsaw, he’s a force to be reckoned with, and a valuable asset to the Hell’s Handlers MC. He’s also done. Done with love, done with dreams, done with women…unless it’s to work off some tension.
Despite their resolve to avoid entanglements, chemistry blazes between Jig and Izzy and becomes harder to resist with each encounter. When the club’s enemies set their sights on Izzy, the Handlers pull her even further into the fold. Everything Izzy believes about families is challenged as Jig and his club prove they can be counted on again and again.
Fighting side by side with a fearless woman, even one as smokin’ as Izzy, isn’t something Jig wants, but it might be exactly what he needs. If club business doesn’t destroy them, do Jig and Izzy stand a chance of letting their pasts go and finding happiness?


 
A full five minutes early for his appointment, Jigsaw shouldered through the door and into Inked, the one and only tattoo shop in Townsend, Tennessee. But even if it wasn’t, even if there was a shop on every corner, it’d be the best by far. Rip was a master with a tattoo machine who could bring anyone’s vision to life.
Maverick and Rocket filed in after him, immediately taking seats on the ratty couch butted up against the display window. His brothers had tagged along despite knowing how much Jig hated an audience for this.
He had a tat on his thigh that he added to every year on his wife and child’s birthdays which just happened to be only three days apart. Without fail, it put him in a shitty mood, and his brothers damn well knew it. But they couldn’t just leave him the fuck alone. They had to stick their fucking noses in his shit and follow him, so he didn’t “do something stupid.”
Every damn year.
Assholes.
“Hey, Jig,” Rip called out. “Lemme talk to you for a second.” He stepped from behind the privacy curtain pulled around his customer. To say the shop was simple would be a ridiculous understatement. Inked about as no-frills as it came, with two tattoo chairs, a reception desk, a second-hand couch and a few sketches on the wall. Rip didn’t give a shit about the décor or ambiance. He gave damn good ink and had the reputation to prove it.
“What’s up, Rip?” Jig asked after Rip waddled his large frame cross the shop.
“Hey, I’m running about forty-five minutes behind, man. I’m sorry.” Rip gave Jig a sheepish half smile.
From the couch, Maverick laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Woohoo, does this mean Jig gets to have his face inked on you?”
Not one to find much shit funny, Jig snorted. Rip was a bit of a psycho when it came to lateness. Threatened to tattoo his face on a client if they were late to their appointment. He’d done it before too, the bastard. That was the reason Jig never let himself be later than five minutes early. Last thing he needed was Rip’s ugly mug on his ass cheek.
“I really am sorry, man,” Rip said. He ran a hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably, seeming flustered which wasn’t him.
“Everything good?” Jig asked.
Rip lowered his voice. “Yeah, just had this broad come in crying a few minutes ago. Breast cancer survivor who recently had some reconstructive surgery. Wanted me to ink nipples on her.”
“Well fuck me, Rip,” Mav said. “Why didn’t you start with that? Now I feel like an ass for ragging on you.”
With a shrug, Rip swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Shit, I’m sweating, guys. This is a lot of pressure.”
This time, Jig let out a small laugh. “You did all our Hell’s Handlers back pieces without blinking an eye, and you’re afraid of some nipples?”
“It’s a big deal,” Rip grumbled.
Jig slapped him on the back. “Hey, man, no worries. I can reschedule.” In reality, the change to his schedule pissed him off, but what the fuck could he do? He wasn’t about to be the asshole who pulled Rip away from a cancer survivor. Jig might be an unfeeling bastard, but he wasn’t a robot.
“Nah, not necessary,” Rip said as he walked toward the desk. “I got someone else who can do it.”
Jig froze and scanned the shop. It was then he realized there was a curtain pulled around the second chair as well. Muffled voices could be heard from behind the fabric wall but not well enough to make out what was being said. “You telling me you actually hired some help?”
For the past two years, Rip had been saying he needed to hire a second artist. Ever the control freak, no one actually thought he’d let another professional into his shop. He found fault with every other artist out there.
“Yeah, I did. They’re just finishing up the aftercare convo. Then you can meet ’em.”
“I don’t know.” Jig frowned. No one but Rip had gone near his skin with ink and needle.
“They’re good, Jig. Wouldn’ta hired ’em otherwise. Trained ’em myself actually. Years ago. Take a look at some of their work.” He dug around behind his desk and pulled out a beat-up binder, laying it out on the counter.
Like a bunch of teenage chicks who didn’t want to miss out on the gossip, Mav and Rocket hopped up to join him at the counter.
Mav, who had more inked skin than not, whistled. “Shit, Rip. These are fucking amazing. This guy might do better work than you.”
It was meant as a joke, but Rip snorted and nodded. There was definite truth to Maverick’s words. The lines were so precise, the images so vivid and perfect it was hard to believe they were done by a human hand. One of the photos was a butterfly that literally looked like it was lifting off some chick’s shoulder. Amazing.
“Give ’em a shot,” Rip said. “Promise they’ll do you right.”
Jig sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. Time to trim his beard. He’d gotten lazy the past few weeks and had let the beard get a little out of control. He always kept some amount of growth because it covered the bottom third of his scar, but he tried to keep it neat. Most of the time. “All right, man. Let’s do it.”
Seemed like Rip was really trying to push the new guy. Probably trying to build up his clientele. If the work in his portfolio was an accurate reflection of the guy’s skill, he’d be a fool to turn down this artist.
“Great.” Rip’s yellow-toothed smile beamed. “Oh, here she comes now.”
“Wait, what?”
She?
Maverick coughed in a weak attempt to cover his laughter, but it quickly turned to a gasp. 
Oh yeah,” he said. “That one’ll do you right, Jig.”
“Holy fuck,” Rocket whispered.
Rip wore a shit-eating grin, the fuckstick. He’d purposefully misled them into thinking it was a dude. Jig didn’t want some bitch getting anywhere near him with a needle. He flipped his brothers off and spun to check out this lady tattoo artist for himself.
Ho-ly shiite.
About five-eight inches—and that was without the four-inch stilettos—of pure sex and sin strutted her way straight toward him. Somehow, this woman had poured herself into the tightest black leather pants he’d ever seen. They molded around her long, shapely legs and damn if he didn’t wish for her to turn around. He just bet she had a stellar ass that would only be enhanced by the grip of soft leather.
With each step, the back and forth sway of her hips drew his eye like he was watching the pendulum of a clock swing side to side. Forcing his gaze from her hips, he trailed it upward, not oblivious to the tight black tank top that cupped her breasts as snugly as the leather cupped her thighs.
“Hey, boys,” she said, her voice on the lower side. Husky, he’d call it.
Mav whistled. “Damn, woman. And I say this in a totally non-creepy, non-flirting way because I have a woman that would shoot off my junk if I so much as hit on another chick, but you are some kinda fucking gorgeous.”
Jig clenched his teeth together as the new lady tattoo artist threw her head back and laughed. Fucking Maverick. Flirting and charming woman was just part of his DNA. He truly meant it when he said he wasn’t hitting on her. The man just couldn’t let a beautiful woman walk away without her knowing she was gorgeous.
“Aren’t you the charmer,” she said, placing her hands on those fantastic hips.
Damn her body was out of this world. Not skinny, not even too curvy, it was more…athletic. Sleek lines, the swell of muscles in her arms, flat stomach. The girl must spend some serious hours in the gym.
“Guys, this here is Isabella. I taught her everything she knew about ten years ago. She finally agreed to move here and work with me.” Rip beamed with pride as he introduced his protégé.
“Please,” she said. “Call me Izzy. One of you boys looking for some ink?”
Fuck no.
Wasn’t happening.
Rocket cleared his throat like he had a whole steak lodged in there. If the asshole wasn’t careful, he’d have Jig’s fist lodged in there instead.
A hand slapped down on his shoulder. “My man Jig here needs some ink.”
Fuckin’ Maverick.
“Don’t want to mess up your schedule,” Jig said. “I’ll come back when Rip can fit me in.”
Rips face fell making Jig feel like scum. Wasn’t the shop owner’s fault that Jig wanted nothing to do with most women. Unless he was fucking them. That was pretty much the only time he associated with them. Of course, his brother’s ol’ ladies couldn’t seem to leave his ass alone. Always trying to bring him food, fix him up, and acting like freaking mother hens around him.
Especially Mav’s woman, Stephanie. He’d helped rescue her from a fucking psycho not long ago, and he seemed to have become her special project.
“Oh, I’ll, uh, check my book.” Rip waddled behind his desk and flipped through his old-school appointment book.
Izzy’s dark, almost black eyes just stared at him, hands on her hips, earning her Jig’s scowl. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?
Instead of caving under his murderous glare, one of her perfect black eyebrows arched high into her forehead. “You afraid your dick will invert if a woman puts some ink on you?”
She had a set of balls, he’d give her that much. “Nah, I—”
“I’ve inked hundreds, actually thousands of dudes.” She gasped and covered her mouth with her unpolished fingertips. “Shit, I’ve even tatted some bikers.”
Behind him, Mav and Rocket chuckled. Fuckers were enjoying this way too much.
Izzy leaned closer and dropped her volume. “Promise you, Bubba, not one of those guys grew a pussy because I was the one holding the needle.”
A strangled sound came from Rocket, and Maverick flat out laughed. Rip joined in, and soon the three of them were howling like a bunch of fucking hyenas.
Goddamnit. Not only had she interrupted him, sassed him, and tossed attitude at him, she’d thrown down a challenge. His damned male pride left him no choice.
“Show me to your chair,” he grumbled.
A massive grin of victory broke out across her gorgeous face. “Follow me, Bubba,” she said as she spun on one of those pencil-thin heels then sashayed to her station.
And fuck if he didn’t feel a twitch of his dick and a twitch of his lips. Where his cock’s interest came from, he had no idea. Miss Izzy couldn’t be further from his usual type.
He liked ‘em blonde, blue-eyed, small, sweet, and docile. Not tall, dark-haired, and mouthy. She’d even shaved the sides of her head, adding to her badass-bitch look.
But as he watched the very long tail of a tight braid swinging back and forth across the top of what was without a doubt a stellar ass, he couldn’t deny the animal attraction to her.
Fuck.
This was gonna be a shitty few hours.
Lilly Atlas is a contemporary romance author, proud Navy wife, and mother of two spunky girls. By day she works as a physical therapist for a hospital in Virginia. Lilly is an avid romance reader, and expects her Kindle to beg for mercy every time she downloads a new eBook. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened yet, and she can often be found absorbed in a good book.
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Thursday, September 13, 2018

No Tomorrow ~ Carian Cole, Release Blitz



♥︎ An Emotional New STANDALONE by Carian Cole ♥︎
No Tomorrow by Carian Cole is available now!
Get your tissues ready...

✓ FREE with #KindleUnlimited

✓ Add to Goodreads: http://bookl.ink/No-Tomorrow-GR


 The people we love are thieves.
They steal our hearts. They steal our breath.
They steal our sanity.
And we let them.
Over and over and over again.
*********************************************
They say you never forget your first time.
Mine was with a homeless musician who effed my brains out under a bridge.
He was my first love. And fourteen years later, I still can’t get him out of my head.
He broke all my rules.
He also broke my heart.
I watched him climb to stardom, cheering him on from afar.
But I was never a fan; just a girl in love.
Like a tornado, he spiraled, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.
But love conquers all, right? It has to. Because here I stand, ravaged and ruined, needing it to be true.
You can’t go back, but I want to. Back to the bridge. Back to when he sang only for me. Before he was famous. Before he shattered my heart.
I thought I knew everything about him.
But I could not have been more wrong.
He promised me every tomorrow. And here I am, waiting.
And hoping.
Again.


*****************************
Every time I immerse myself into one of this authors books I feel like I've walked into another dimension that is hauntingly beautiful even when things around me seem so out of character. Can something that most would see as wrong feel totally comfortable and right? Apparently yes it can. 

Piper, the girl who always felt like she blended in with the wallpaper became the obsession of a man most wouldn't think twice about if it weren't for the beauty he creates from his music. This story emotionally gutted me while simultaneously was one of the most beautiful grouping of words ever put in front of my eyes. I don't want to say a lot because I don't want to share any spoilers, but what I will say is I recommend this book as long as you can accept some trigger points like substance abuse and are willing to read this with an open mind and accept when two souls come together, it's not always under normal circumstances or surroundings. I give it 5 stars.



About the Author:
I have a passion for the bad boys, those covered in tattoos, sexy smirks, ripped jeans, fast cars, motorcycles and of course, the sweet girls that try to tame them and win their hearts.
My first novel in the best-selling Ashes & Embers series, Storm, published in September of 2014. I have many books and sequels slated for this series. My new spin-off series, Devils Wolves, launched in 2016 with the best-selling novel, Torn. There are several books planned for this series as well.
Born and raised a Jersey girl, I now reside in beautiful New Hampshire with my husband and our multitude of furry pets and spend most of my time writing, reading, and vacuuming.

Blog Tour - Dirty Headlines by L.J. Shen

DH_BLOG TOUR.jpg

"Dirty Headlines is a fantastic enemies to lovers office romance with a perfect filthy asshole hero that I wish I'd written myself." - Laurelin Paige, New York Times bestselling author

Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy, enemies-to-lovers romance from bestselling author L.J. Shen is available NOW!

LJSDirtyHeadlinesBookCover6x9_BW_324
Célian Laurent.
Manhattan royalty.
Notorious playboy.
Heir to a media empire.
…And my new boss.
I could have impressed him, if not for last month’s unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory—namely, his wallet.
Now he’s staring me down like I’m the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I’m supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith “Jude” Humphry is I have nothing to lose.
Brooklyn girl.
Infamously quirky.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
He knows it.
So do I.
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But it’s my heart at stake, and I fear I’ll be raising the white flag.
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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2GuCKIB
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Excerpt:
He had an American accent. Not French. American. Smooth. Familiar. Ordinary. He fired out sentences at the speed of light. I heard him, but I couldn’t listen. Shock gripped my body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. My dirty one-night stand was my boss. My lying, American boss. And now I had to deal with that—hopefully for a very long time, because I desperately needed this job.
Someone snapped their fingers, and my gaze shot from Célian’s face to Grayson.
His forehead had crumpled into a frown. “You look like you’re trying hard not to cry or having a really intense orgasm. I’m hoping for you that it’s the latter and some kind of a weird-slash-awesome condition. You okay?”
I nodded, scraping up a smile. “Sorry. Zero orgasms happening under this dress. I just zoned out for a second.”Lies. I was about to orgasm just remembering how good Célianhad felt parting my thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into my slit.
Then words stopped streaming down on everyone’s heads like a scalding shower, and I realized that indeed there was something worse than hearing Célianspeak in his perfect American English. And that was not hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at me like a cocked gun.
I glanced up to meet his gaze. He stared at me for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Grayson. “Am I understood, Gregory?” he asked.
Gregory?
“Crystal clear, sir,” Grayson bowed, his voice trembling at the edges.
Célian jerked his chin toward me. “Your cover girl material is going downhill.”
God. Damn. Bastard.
He recognized me, and I knew it. His eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute our gazes mingled. He remembered, and maybe it killed him that I was here in the same way it buried me.
I want my iPod back, my gaze told him. I had over three thousand songs on that thing, and they were all too good to be wasted on that jerk.
“Jude Humphry. Junior reporter. It’s her first day,” Grayson highlighted, almost pleadingly. He shifted in my direction, as if he might need to physically protect me from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.
I suppressed a smile when I realized I’d told Célianmy last name was Spears. Well, he certainly wasn’t a Timberlake. He was a Laurent. An American monarch through and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and judging by our one and only encounter—a raging playboy.
This man was inside you, I internally shrieked. And not just once. His cock was buried so deep in you, you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his cum.You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes when he empties inside a woman.
I internally thanked my mind for ruining my panties in public, and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I offered him my hand, my face flushing with embarrassment at my choice of words.
Everyone was looking at us, and there were at least fifty people in the room. Célian—if that was even his name—ignored my outreached hand. Instead, he turned his face to the man beside him. “Mathias, any other words of wisdom?”
Mathias? Wasn’t that his father? Just how cold was the man with the icy blue eyes?
“I think you touched everything,” said the big boss—and he did have a heavy French accent, so at least the lie had a seed. Mathias stared at me placidly, like he could read the secret his son and I shared on my face.
Célian spun toward me, uncuffing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. “Accounting can go back to their unfortunate line of work. Couture is excused from this meeting—though not forgiven for their horrid blog. Miss Humphry?” He snapped his fingers impatiently.
He was already waltzing down the narrow hallway, knowing I’d chase him like a puppy, and no doubt taking pleasure in that fact.
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
Bone, boner—same difference, right?
I shot Grayson a please-save-my-butt look. His eyes said, I would but I still have a life to live.
I followed Célian down the hall, my Chucks slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked “Out!” to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. I did. He closed the door, and it was just the two of us.
Two feet of empty space between us.
About LJ Shen:
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people's’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
LJShen
Connect with L.J. Shen:
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