 Happy Cover Reveal Day to Emma-Claire Wilson and her new book This Child of Mine! Publication Date: 3rd August 2023 This Child of Mine When Stephanie is told she’s pregnant and that she is sick on the same day, she faces an impossible choice… After trying for a baby for so long, finding out I was pregnant was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. But in the same breath as the news I had been waiting years to hear, the doctor told me I was seriously ill. If I carry my baby to term, I will almost certainly die. If I proceed with treatment, my baby will not live. My husband – the father of this child – is telling me to save myself. But with all the secrets I know he is keeping from me, I can’t trust him anymore. What would you do? An emotional yet uplifting tear-jerker that will have you reaching for the tissues – perfect for fans of EMMA ROBINSON and JODI PICOULT Pre-order Links UK / US  Author Bio Born in Scotland, Emma-Claire travelled the world as the child of military parents. After almost 20 years in Spain, she returned to the UK with her husband, two daughters, and rescue dog, Pip. Emma-Claire worked as a journalist for English language magazines and newspapers in Spain and in 2015 launched The Glass House Online Magazine. When not writing emotional fiction, you can find her dreaming up new book ideas or wrapped in a blanket with a book in her hand. Twitter: https://twitter.com/ECWilsonWriter @ECWilsonWriter Insta: https://www.instagram.com/ecwilsonauthor/ @ecwilsonauthor Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ECWilsonAuthor @ECWilsonAuthor 
Secretly
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- Q&A with Talya Blaine: How did you come up with the idea for Secretly? What was your favorite scene or theme in Secretly to write? And the other scene I loved writing is when they think they see each other in Paris. During revisions, I was this close (pinching fingers together) to cutting it. But I kept it in and I believe the book is better for it. I think it shows that, at the end of the day, no matter what issues have arisen between them, they’re just really connected to each other. What was the hardest scene or theme to write? Your blog says you love-love-love to read. What are you reading right now? What’s your writing routine like? How can readers find you online? 
GIVEAWAY! --
The Dollmaker
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Google Play / Kobo -- EXCERPT: He slowly began to pace in front of her, his shaded head tipped in thought. His legs were long in the dark, though he wasn’t much taller than her. Bits of slanted light streamed in from the floorboards above them, highlighting the divots of his face. She still couldn’t see him clearly. “I’ve never had anyone find me before,” he said. “And I take pride in the fact that no one does. I lead a quiet life, and uninterrupted life, and now… you’ve interrupted it.” He paused, facing her head on. He was nothing more than a shadow in front of her. She held still, silent. If he was The Dollmaker, she didn’t want to make him upset. He hadn’t killed her yet, but maybe he liked to toy with his prey before he slaughtered them. “I won’t tell anyone about you,” she choked out. “Just let me go.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And why should I believe you?” “Why are you trying to stay hidden?” Both of their questions hung in the air. He started pacing again. Her heart was hammering its way up into her throat, she could barely breathe. She edged back a step. His head snapped up and he sprung forward once more. He gripped her upper arm and began to drag her into the dark, away from the orchestra pit. She struggled against him, trying to rip out of his embrace, but his hold was concrete. He led her through a dark hallway that slanted upward at an incline, until the hallway stopped at a dead end. A door towered in front of above them. She still couldn’t see his face. He moved in close, yanking her up against him, until she felt his breath on her cheek. “If you tell anyone about me—anyone at all—I will know. And if you do, there will be consequences greater than you can imagine. Death will follow, I can assure you that.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
Love You Now
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “If I thought you’d say yes, Ana, I’d ask you to come back to my hotel room and finish what we’re starting here.” “What makes you think I’d say no?” The way he laughed, a gentle huff through his nose, made a piece of her heart melt a little more. “Most women would say yes or no to that. Instead, you open the question wide and give it nuance.” “What’s wrong with nuance?” “Never said there was anything wrong with it.” “From what I’ve seen, you are a crystal-clear man, Dennis. Why don’t you try the direct approach?” Inching closer, his inhale like the rush of a conch against her ear, Dennis smiled, his grin broadening, genuine happiness filling his features in a way that made her feel pride. Pride that she could elicit that from him. “Come to bed with me, Ana. I love the feel of you in my arms on the dance floor. Your kiss tastes so good, I want to taste all of you. My room or yours?” Pure energy shot through her, most of it between her legs, coalescing into a throb. Fire lit up her skin, his caress as he cupped her jaw and kissed her again so anchoring. And so damn hot. Few moments in life call for complete abandon, but for Ana DaSilva, this was one of them. Without question. Without hesitation. And without regrets.
GIVEAWAY! -- S #Book Blitz #Play By My Rules by Michelle Karise #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours28/2/2023
Play By My Rules
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Harrison ran a knuckle from my nape down my arm. His fingers entwined with mine, he raised my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss. Not wanting to break our connection, I stroked his cheek. His hand crept along my side. Mine rested over his heart, the beat racing a thousand miles per hour. Legs pressed against mine and one hand gripping my waist, Harrison used the other hand to push my hair to the side. I sucked in a breath. It was as if I’d been standing at the edge of a bridge with bungee cords binding my legs and my body poised to leap as adrenaline pumped through me, waiting for the feeling of flight. I clutched his shoulders and held on for dear life. He leaned in, his stubble tickling my jaw before he sucked my flesh into his mouth. featherlight nips on my neck and collarbone turned to sucking and biting. My nipples hardened as I fell over the edge. He chuckled when I let out a soft moan. “Arianna, I’d better stop.” A little mewing sound of discontent escaped my lips as he pulled away. “That was better than I ever imagined,” he whispered, not taking his eyes from mine. His chest rapidly rose and fell. I nodded and rubbed my fingertips over my mouth. I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I stay? Or do I leave? How will I forget what happened? What does this kiss mean? When can we do it again? Should I quit my job?
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Dead and Buried (Grave Talker 7) by Annie Anderson #Paranormal @Xpresso Book Tours28/2/2023
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Dead and Buried
-- EXCERPT: I should have taken the trip to the Underworld. That thought had plagued me since I agreed to this damn adventure. Mainly because I was not a good flyer. There were too many people in the airport and what if you didn’t get there in time and what if they searched your luggage and decided to confiscate everything. There were far too many variables when it came to air travel, and I was in charge of none of them. Not. A. Fan. But when we arrived at the airport, it was not on the super commercial side. When the smoke from Aemon’s power faded, we were outside a giant hangar with a few people milling about like little worker bees. An airplane sat just off the tarmac with a red carpet leading to the boarding stairs. “Umm…” I said nervously, staring at a suit-clad flight attendant who just seemed to notice us standing there. I had never flown private in my life, but it seemed that streak was about to end. “Did you honestly think I was going to make you fly commercial?” Aemon scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled his hands away from my hips. “After the Orlando trip? Never.” He was referring to my senior trip when my plane nearly went down after an electrical disturbance. I hadn’t flown since, and I was pretty sure I would need pharmaceuticals to do it this time. But there was only one way Aemon knew about my flying trauma because Jay and I refused to talk about it ever. It was the same reason he knew every other corner of my brain. Because he had seen it in my memories when he invaded my mind during his possession. “What are the odds that flight attendant has Xanax in his pocket?” I asked, choosing to ignore the reminder of Aemon’s possession completely. He seemed to consider my question as he ushered us forward. “I’d say pretty good, but I wouldn’t take them. He’d likely confuse them for the Molly in his other pocket and then you’d really be in trouble. My feet nearly stuttered to a stop as my tongue felt heavy in my mouth and a sweat broke out all over my skin. I did not want to get into that plane. Not at all. “Come on, Flower. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” Now I was hot, but it was due to anger rather than anything else. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you to hold anything for me.” Choking down my fear, I marched to the plane, handed off my suitcase, and made it up the steps before the fear took root again. “You can sit anywhere. Would you like something to drink?” The attendant was my height with a shock of ginger hair and a jaw you could sharpen blades on. The hum of the engine started, and it took everything in me not to climb out of my skin, holding onto the chaos magic like it was my job. I chose a seat and waved him off. “I’m fine.” I was not fine, but I would grit my teeth and make it so. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back to the cushion. Eight hours. Just eight tiny hours and you will be there. You’ll get answers. This is fine. “You’re such a little liar,” Aemon whispered in my ear, his approach completely undetected. I cracked an eyelid, cutting my gaze to him with a glare that should have roasted him on the spot. “You couldn’t be less fine if you tried. Now, I can help calm you down, or you can sit there and pray you don’t blow this plane up mid-flight. Your choice, Flower.” Aemon had a habit of making me sleep when I needed it. There had been a few instances where I had gone days without even so much as a wink of it until he took the decision out of my hands. Him actually asking this time was new. “I could have sworn I had a name, and it wasn’t anything even remotely resembling ‘Flower’ or anything close to it.” Aemon’s petulant sigh practically rattled my bones. “Ms. Darby Adler, will you pretty please with sugar on top hold my hand so I may calm you down on this very treacherous flight over an ocean of salt that will surely kill me dead should you explode this plane and dunk me in it?” That had my breath hitching in my chest as acid churned in my gut. Exploding this plane had been a real concern, but now? Now I was holding onto the armrests for dear life, and we hadn’t left the tarmac yet. Aemon’s face got right in mine so all I could see were those pretty blue eyes and too-full lips. “You’d better answer me, Flower, or I’ll have to think of other ways to distract you.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
Burning for the Truth
-- EXCERPT: The ride to my apartment is silent. When we get back, I keep quiet as I get ready for bed. “Is everything okay?” he finally asks. “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” I clip frostily. “I don’t know, maybe because you’ve been acting like a spoiled brat since we left the diner.” I stop what I’m doing and face him with my jaw clenched. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, Bree. You’re mad because she talked to me. Admit it.” “I’m not mad. What you do and who you do it with is none of my business,” I reply coolly even though he’s right. I don’t want to think of him with anyone else even though I have no right to those feelings. He steps closer, almost nose to nose. “You’re lying.” He searches my face for a crack in my armor. I step closer so there’s no space between us. “I don’t tell lies. It sounds like you made your move with her and I’m happy for you.” He scoffs and laughs humorlessly. “I was on duty and checked her detectors, one of the other guys was with me. We were in and out in a matter of about fifteen minutes. This dinner she keeps wanting to have with me is her idea, not mine.” “So go. You might have fun. You might even be able to give your heart to her and be happy. You won’t know until you try. What do you have to lose?” My chest is aching as I say the words. I don’t mean them. I want him to be happy, but not with her. “You.” He slides his hand into my hair at the base of my neck; his stormy gaze blazing with fury and passion. “I stand to lose you. Chelsea’s nice, but she’s not you. I can’t give my heart to her or anyone else. You have it. You took it a long time ago.” His breath fans my face as his lips lightly brush against mine. He brings both hands to either side of my face as I lean into him for an instant, my body and my heart responding in every way, until I think about all the ways this can go wrong. “No. You don’t mean that. And even if you did, we can’t.” I take a step back with my hand placed firmly on his chest as if it will keep him from coming closer. “The hell I don’t. But if you don’t want me, then I’ll back off.” He takes a few steps back as if demonstrating what he means. My heart squeezes painfully. “It’s not that I don’t want you. This isn’t only about me and you. If we take a chance and we fall instead of fly, we risk hurting other people too,” I admit honestly. He comes closer and pulls me into his arms. “We won’t fall. I won’t let go. We can do this if we’re in it together. Hold on to me, Briella. Don’t let go.” His lips crash down on mine as he pushes me toward my bed, and I know with certainty I’ll do exactly as he says. I won’t let him go. I don’t think I ever truly did.
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Exceptionally Unconventional by Victoria Clarke #Historical Romance @Xpresso Book Tours27/2/2023
Exceptionally Unconventional
-- EXCERPT: “Miss Iverson has been quite amicable to every young man that we have presented to her all evening. Is something amiss, Lady Edevane?” “Sharp as ever, Clementina. The boy has been toadying her for weeks and does not seem to take a hint.” “I see!” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell replied, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She did not appreciate being used as means to force a young lady’s hand and made mental note to mention this episode to her fellow patronesses at their next meeting. In the ballroom, Miss Iverson allowed herself to be led to the floor and begrudgingly took her place. As the music began, Mr. Moore’s arm came about her waist. Her eyes glanced up at his and she fixed a withering glare upon him. He was undaunted, and indeed barely managed to conceal a smirk. “Why do you look at me so, Lucilla?” he asked mockingly. “I do not recall giving you leave to use my name, Mr. Moore.” “Perhaps you did not, but we are such old friends, what is the harm in it?” “It may not be harmful, but as it is not pleasing to my ear, I will request you not use it, if you please,” she replied witheringly as they whirled about the room. “Whatever have I done to make you so upset, Miss Iverson?” “Other than your underhanded effort to force me to accept a waltz with you, Mr. Moore?” “I should think the effort was rather successful,” was his cheerful reply. Miss Iverson’s jaw clenched. People were watching, she knew, so for quite some time she performed her steps in silence while he spoke on mundane topics and considered himself to have won the round. No one could overhear them, but anyone could surely guess she was angry at her dancing partner, and so she forced herself to fix a smile on her face as she looked up at him again. “It is clear to me that in spite of my mother’s efforts to convince me otherwise, you are quite aware that I do not seek to encourage your familiarity.” Her words were deliberately blunt in an attempt to knock him off his perch, and it appeared to succeed, for his brow darkened momentarily. But as suddenly as it appeared, the frown vanished and he plastered a false smile on his face. “You wound me, Miss Iverson! What have I done to draw such ire? I have surely not offended you.” “You are well aware that your attentions offend me.” “I am at a loss to understand why, for I am your humble servant.” This drew her eyes up in a flash, and she said scornfully, “Indeed!” “Have I not loved you since childhood?” “I vividly recall your penchant for tossing spiders at me.” “Only in my childish efforts to gain your notice, I assure you.” “Then I suppose you were also in love with my brothers?” she replied with sarcasm ebbing in her voice. As he paused to consider the right thing to say in reply, she suddenly pulled away from him and he realized the music had ended. She bobbed a quick and shallow curtsy before spinning on her heel and marching away. He felt irritation wash over him at her defiance. Yes, a less troublesome wife would be best. But he might enjoy breaking Miss Iverson of her spirit. 
GIVEAWAY! --
She, You, I
-- EXCERPT: “She” Maisie’s story She was safe under the bed. Metal strips above, bare boards below, her father’s tin trunk behind—name, rank, number engraved on its lid. “All you need to know about a man,” her father said. A blanket hung over the edge of the bed. Maisie lay behind it and clenched her fists against her chest to keep in the fear. Tonight was bad. “Floozy!” “No!” Shouts from the kitchen. Them fighting. She curled up and squeezed her eyes shut, covered her ears to make it stop. Anything to make it stop. “You’re my wife.” A scream from the kitchen ran through her body. And then another, and another, until the whole night became a scream. She tried to block it out, but she couldn’t. It was inside her ears, inside her head. She was the scream. And then it stopped. She took her hands from her ears and listened. Nothing. Silence. Maisie lifted the blanket and peered into the room. Gaslight from the street spilt over the tattered strip of net curtain nailed across the window. It glinted off the broken mirror above the empty fireplace, touched the two best chairs on their square of worn carpet, and lit up the locked front door out to the landing of the tenement. In the far corner was the door into the other room, the kitchen. A spindly table stood next to the door, with a piece of lacey cloth draped over it, “To hide its legs,” her mother said, and on it was china figurine of a man in a kilt with a lamb around his neck and a dog at his feet. Beside the figurine was a photograph in a round frame of pleated cloth. Her mother, Flora, her hair swept up into a chignon and set with glittery jewels—only glass, she said—sat on a chair and behind her stood a soldier, uniformed, his face unmarked, handsome, with jet-black hair and a wide moustache that curled up at the ends like a smile. Her father, Simon. One arm was crocked behind him, the other stretched along the back of the chair, cradling her mother, and the greys of their clothes swirled around the whites of their faces and blended into the beige of the fabric that enclosed them. The night the glass in the frame got broken wasn’t as bad as this. 
GIVEAWAY! --
The New Single Dad Billionaire
-- EXCERPT: Tyler POV She took a step to steady herself and tripped on my foot. I grabbed her before she fell onto the coffee table.
GIVEAWAY! -- |
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