 Happy Cover Reveal to the second edition of Finding It All by Stacey Komosinski! Finding It All Welcome to the Finding Happiness in Harmony series’ first journey celebrating the bonds of friendship, love, and life. This feel-good story of first love and best friends will have you believing you too can find it all. Twenty-five-year-old Chloe Larson has never had a relationship or been really kissed by someone. After a rough childhood spent hiding a secret and being ridiculed, Chloe believes she’s better off with only friends around her. That way she can’t get hurt or misused. She spends weekends living life to the fullest with her best friends and roommates Gaby and Jess and weekdays proving her worth as a newly promoted reporter. The thing is, she doesn’t have time for anything romantic. But secretly she longs for that special connection with someone. Chris Sherman is bored of the selfish women who flock to him. Recently out of a relationship, he isn’t looking for love. But everything changes when he meets Chloe Larson. She has a way about her that excites and intrigues him, leaving him desperate to get to know her. Will they both find the courage to let each other in and experience the joys and pains of love, life, and happiness to find it all? (From Goodreads) 
Drake
-- EXCERPT: CHAPTER ONE Roman Campbell took a sip of his sparkling water and observed the two men taking to the floor for their first dance as a married couple. Carter Wilson and Elijah Davis looked blissfully happy as they swayed to a classic Sinatra song, fingers interlocked and arms around one another while their bodies brushed sensuously. It was clear to everyone in the marquee that the grooms only had eyes for each other. A twinge of jealousy stabbed through Roman at the happiness radiating on the two men’s faces. Carter laughed at something Elijah said and took his husband’s mouth in a hot kiss that had their guests clapping and wolf-whistling. The newlyweds turned and extended their hands toward a pretty little blond girl in a cream taffeta and lace dress who stood watching them from the sidelines. Maisie, Carter’s niece and his and Elijah’s newly adopted daughter, squealed and ran out to join them. The couple caught her into their arms and resumed their dance, their mouths split in beaming smiles. Roman swallowed a grimace. I really am an asshole. I should be happy for them. He’d been somewhat surprised to receive an invite to what was being touted as the most exclusive celebrity wedding of the year. Though he was friends with Carter, they hadn’t spoken for a while, their busy lives meaning their paths rarely crossed except at social events. They’d met five years ago, at an exclusive sex club in L.A. It was the kind of place where the world-famous clientele could indulge in their private desires and fantasies to their heart’s content, without fear of their secrets becoming fodder for the paparazzi. It had been Roman’s first time at the club. He’d hit on Carter the minute he’d walked inside the place, not realizing that the tall man with the dirty blond hair and the body to die for was the A-list Hollywood actor who had practically dominated entertainment news ever since he exploded on the movie scene with his first blockbuster. Though Carter had flirted with Roman, he hadn’t obliged his invitation to visit one of the club’s private suites for some down and dirty time. He had, however, kept a close eye on him. Roman had been more than a little drunk and high on drugs when he’d made the impulsive decision to visit the club that night and hook up with a stranger, a fact he had been lambasted for at length when his manager and best friend James Lang turned up and dragged him from the place a couple of hours later. “At least you had the decency to pick somewhere the paparazzi couldn’t find you!” James had snapped the next morning while Roman lay recovering from his monumental hangover on the sundeck of his L.A. penthouse. “It’s a good thing Carter messaged me when he did.” “Carter?” Roman had frowned at the unfamiliar name. “Who the hell is Carter? And could you pipe down? This headache is killing me,” he’d added on a groan. James had clenched and unclenched his hands in a way that told Roman he’d wished they were wrapped around Roman’s neck. “Carter is the guy you were hitting on last night,” James had explained icily. “He’s a friend of mine.” He’d paused and narrowed his eyes at Roman, a muscle dancing in his cheek. “That headache isn’t the only thing that’s gonna kill you, Roman. You need to cut back on the booze and the drugs. You’re not just ruining your health. You’re sabotaging your career!” The guilt and anger that had rotted Roman’s insides for as long as he could remember flared into life and had his mouth curving in a nasty smile. “Are you saying that as my best friend or as my manager?” The hurt in James’s eyes had Roman immediately regretting his harsh words. “I’m sorry,” Roman had mumbled in the stiff silence. “I promise I won’t do anything like this again.” James had watched him for a moment before blowing out a heavy sigh. They’d both known it was a lie. It wouldn’t be another two years until Roman finally kept his word. By then, the whole of L.A. and the world knew that the lead singer of Crazyknot was damaged goods. Paradoxically, Roman’s soul-crushing fall from grace only boosted sales of their albums and propelled the band to international stardom. It also turned him into an overnight icon, one he’d assumed the entertainment industry would soon forget. Which made his and Crazyknot’s shockingly successful comeback twelve months ago all the more humbling. Apparently, the world loved nothing more than seeing a former bad boy reform. Roman’s lips tilted in a self-deprecating smile. Well, almost reform. He might have ditched the alcohol and the drugs. It didn’t mean he’d turned into a monk. He scanned the marquee, the restless feeling that had been gnawing at his insides a sure-fire sign that he needed to let off some steam in a way that didn’t involve getting intoxicated. Now, let’s find a guy I can have some fun with. “I know that look,” someone said next to him. Roman closed his eyes briefly. He twisted on the bar stool and studied the man who’d taken the seat beside him with a faint frown. James Lang looked his usual cool and elegant self in a bottle green tuxedo that matched his eyes and framed specs. Roman pursed his lips. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d known James for thirteen years and had seen him puke his guts up on more occasions than he could count when they were teenagers, he might have taken a stab at the guy. James was attractive in the kind of way that made people pause and wonder what lay beneath the impeccable suits and hard exterior. The only ones who truly knew the infamous manager were the members of Crazyknot and their close friends. For behind the cool, controlled facade James projected burned a fiery and surprisingly passionate soul. To this day, Roman didn’t know what had turned the outgoing and fun-loving boy he had come to know during what had been the most challenging years of his teenage life, into the stern and reserved man who now sat facing him. It had happened shortly after their first national tour. Roman and the other members of Crazyknot had long questioned James about his almost overnight transformation, but the manager had always remained tight-lipped on the subject. “Oh yeah?” Roman grumbled presently. “And what kind of look am I wearing, pray tell?” James arched an eyebrow. He took a sip of his champagne before leaning in closer. “The kind that says you’re looking for a good fuck.” Choked off laughter erupted close by. James stiffened and looked over Roman’s head. Roman turned, a frown on his face and his mouth parting on a biting remark. His breath locked in his throat. Gunmetal blue eyes sparkled with mirth opposite him. Though the stranger straddled the bar stool in a relaxed pose, Roman could tell he was tall and would tower over him by a good few inches. His overlong, sun-kissed brown hair teased the collar of his classic, black tuxedo, the suit doing little to hide the hard angles and solid muscles beneath the expensive material. Silver peppered his short beard and sideburns, framing a rugged, tanned face that wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of an outdoor sports magazine. His fingers were hard and callused where he held a half-empty beer bottle. The man smiled and tipped his drink at them with a nonchalant dip of his head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the beer.” Roman’s cock stirred. He swallowed. Fuck. Mr. Sideburns was one hundred percent his type. And he looked exactly like the kind of trouble Roman needed to avoid tonight. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by:
Rapid Agenda
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Chuck passed through customs and headed towards the sliding glass doors to wait for a Chicken Bus to take him across the border. An archeologist’s budget didn’t exactly call for limo service. The crowded, chaotic local transport would have to do. “There you are!” Chuck felt a hand slide through his crooked arm. Startled, he looked down at the slim tanned limb before his eyes vaulted up to take in the rest. Whoa. A student? He knew everyone on his team. This woman with the tawny lopsided bun was definitely not in his group. She wore a navy blue polo shirt with an insignia he couldn’t quite catch. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, let’s go. We’re going to be late.” This little pistol of a woman was corralling his six-foot-plus field-rugged frame towards the doorway. Momentary surprise allowed for it, until he snapped to attention and locked his feet. Unaffected, she beamed up at him. “I missed you too. Your flight was late. I almost got a taxi, but I promised I’d be here when you got off the plane. It’s stifling out today.” She leaned in, and for an irrational moment he thought this stranger was going to kiss him. Hell, it wasn’t often that beautiful women threw themselves at him. Okay, never. “Look,” he said. “You’ve made some mistake.” Her head tipped back and a husky laugh brushed across glossless lips. There was not a shred of makeup on the heart-shaped face that glistened slightly from the heat. “You’re always so funny. Remember that time with the margaritas? You blew through a straw to make bubbles and ended up splashing the drink all over the guy at the next table.” There it was. That tiny revelation. Not anything about her story. She was, as his grandmother would say, a real card. Audacious. Flippant. Bubbly. And she was like syrup pouring over his arm. But there was some serious shit going down in her eyes. Fear. Anxiety. Desperation. Mostly fear. That registered foremost in the shadows of her pupils. Clearly this was an act. And if it was an act, then the audience had to be nearby. Chuck lifted his eyes over her head and scanned the possibilities. Was she running from an abusive boyfriend? From the police? The crowd was thin here. Everyone was congregated down at the baggage claim. A family with two kids in tow scrambled by with their wheelie carts screeching. A taxi driver stepped through the sliding glass doors, sizing them up as prospects. A man was engrossed with the airline schedule monitor, while some people sat on the wooden benches, seemingly preoccupied—none returning his searching gaze. “Listen ma’am—” God knows what trouble she was into. “I’m in a rush here.” That much was true. He could see the colorful Chicken Bus waiting out in the parking lot. It was an old school bus modified into a party on wheels, earning its name from the days of transporting live animals along with human passengers. Public transportation with flair. To his surprise she casually punched his arm and snickered. “You’re a hoot,” she remarked. “Like an owl. Hoot. Hoot. Hoot.” Okay, where’s the camera? Surely this was some stint for a reality show. A tug on his arm arrested his attention. Although the woman was oozing mirth, her soulful blue eyes pleaded as they looked up at him. Even as she forced another laugh, one truthful word squeezed across her lips. Please. In a blink, the glib smile was back, making him wonder if the plea had all been in his mind. “Will you look at that thing!” She nudged her head at the vibrant bus parked outside. “It looks like a bag of Skittles threw up on it. I can’t even imagine what the inside looks like. Do you really think there will be chickens like in the movies? It’s gonna smell like chicken crap, isn’t it? How long will it take to get there?” All this time, she was tugging him. Subtle, but forceful enough that if he resisted it would draw attention. He played along. Last thing he needed was to be drawn into someone else’s problems, but the look of desperation in her eyes was enough to propel him through the door with her in tow. At least get her outside. Maybe she could catch an Uber or something. Evidently, she wanted whoever was watching to think they were together. He got that. He even nodded once or twice in response, but kept scanning the parade of vehicles loitering in front of the airport for the source of her performance. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by:  An endearing novel of friendship, forgiveness, and second chances by New York Times bestselling author Mariah Stewart. It was a lifetime ago that recently widowed Maggie Flynn was in Wyndham Beach. Now, on the occasion of her fortieth high school reunion, she returns to her hometown on the Massachusetts coast, picking up right where she left off with dear friends Lydia and Emma. But seeing Brett Crawford again stirs other emotions. Once, they were the town’s golden couple destined for one another. He shared Maggie’s dreams—and eventually, a shattering secret that drove them apart. Buying her old family home and resettling in Wyndham Beach means a chance to start over for Maggie and her two daughters, but it also means facing her rekindled feelings for her first love and finally confronting—and embracing—the past in ways she never thought possible. Maggie won’t be alone. With her family and friends around her, she can weather this stormy turning point in her life and open her heart to the future. As for that dream shared and lost years ago? If Maggie can forgive herself, it still might come true.  My thoughts: If I had to choose one word to describe what this book is about, it would be Life. Lifelong friendships, unexpected changes that pull the rug from under you feet and make your world tumble over, families with their complex dynamics, second chances in love, growing into yourself and discovering your own strength, coming home wherever it is and whatever it means to you. Maggie Flynn is coming back to her home town of Wyndham Beach, Massachusets, for her fortieth school reunion. She has been widowed for two years after having given her all totaking care of her terminally ill husband. Maggie and her friends Lydia and Emma finally have a chance to spend some time together. Even Maggie's best friends don't know what exactly happened forty years ago to split the golden couple of their school, the Prom King and Queen, Brett Crowford and Maggie. It is clear that the old hurt is still there,when Maggie gets very upset about being asked to dance with Brett. We also get a gimpse into Maggie's grown-up daughters' lives, who have also had their disappointments in love and marriage and who are trying to move on. The writing was extremely engaging. The conversations between the three friends sounded realistic. The characters are well-differentiated and the same is true for Grace and Natalie, Maggie's daughters. While I appreciated having all these different generations and their perspectives, what made this book so attractive was it's focus on Maggie and her life, both in the past and the present. Her age group tends to get little (or at least not enough) representation in romance and it was nice to read this well-written exception. I loved the way Mariah Stewart showed the atmosphere of a little seaside town. Emma and Liddy have lived all their lives in Wyndham. They got married and raised their children there. They also suffered through their own personal tragedies. Maggie made a choice to leave. It wasn't for better or worse, just different, and she can make a new choice now, as she is at standing at a new kind of crossroads. For anyone who loves stories with strong, realistic female protagonists, complicated friendship and family dynamics, and a small town setting. Can't wait to read Book 2 in Wyndham Beach series. Thank you to NetGalley and Montlake for the ARC providedin exchange for an honest opinion.  Mariah Stewart is the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and USA Today bestselling author of several series, including The Chesapeake Diaries and The Hudson Sisters, as well as stand-alone novels, novellas, and short stories. A native of Hightstown, New Jersey, she lives with her husband and two rambunctious rescue dogs amid the rolling hills of Chester County, Pennsylvania, where she savors country life, tends her gardens, and works on her next novel. She’s the proud mama of two fabulous daughters who—along with her equally fabulous sons-in-law—have gifted her with six adorable (and yes, fabulous) granddarlings. For more information visit www.mariahstewart.com.   Today I'm delighted to participate in the blog tour for Kathleen Maree's new book Broken Wing, which is Book 1 of The Arthur Academy duology. Just look at this gorgeous cover and tell me you are not intrigued to find out what this is all about!  Book details: Broken Wing by Kathleen Mare’e (Arthur Academy, #1) Publication date: April 26th 2021 Genres: Contemporary, New Adult Synopsis: Hendrix: It’s funny the things you notice as a child. Like the way people uneasily glance away from me whenever I catch their eye. Or the way a stranger seems to smile happily at other children, but when I say hello, their smile looks more uneasy than warm... But as I approach the steel gates to the elite Arthur Academy, I can’t help but take a long-awaited breath towards my freedom. Finally, I have the chance to build the life I want. A future. Something that gives me more to live for than the daily beatings my childhood only ever knew. The girl I used to be doesn’t exist here. But even as the confidence grows about a life I now have control over, I can’t help but feel there could be something else waiting for me here. Something I’ve never faced before. And it isn’t something I could prepare for. And preparation is what got me out. It got me here. I can’t afford to lose this opportunity, because if I lose this hand, it’s more than just a loss. It's like not being able to breathe. Not being able to fly. Paxton: I grip the leather ball in my hand, feeling the weight of the year pressing down on me. If it was just football, I could deal, but with my last name – it's everything else that suffocates me. The Arthur Elite is what they call us, and we each have our roles to play. But my fathers given me the next two years to do what the hell I want without his interference, before he’ll own me and I'll become nothing but his pawn. After that, when college is done, I dread the life I’ll have to lead. The role I’ll be forced to play. It should be simple. Just stroll through the steel gates and be the crown they all see; but I can’t help but feel there is something lurking beneath the surface. There is something different about this year that I sense inside my dark soul. And it isn’t something I am prepared for; even when staying ahead is the one thing that ensures my next breath. Because when I lose a hand, it’s more than just a loss. It's like losing a limb. A bird breaking its' wing. And without that - I can’t fly toward freedom. And my freedom right now, is all I have to hold onto. Goodreads Purchase  My thoughts: What a stunning cover this novel has! Dramatic, unique, full of passion, gritty- just perfect for this story. The beginning is quite shocking and you'll probably be asking the same question I did- how come nobody did anything, nobody tried to help this little, defenseless girl. You'll be drawn into the story straightaway and will understand why our female protagonist, Hendrix, sees Arthur Academy as the new beginning, the place where she can be free from her past. Arthur Academy is an elite school for rich, overpriveleged and bored kids who like nothing more than to play power games. From time to time a few scholarships are granted, but these students rarely last. Hendrix sees it as her ticket to a future where she will be self-sufficient and in complete control of her life. She won't give up. She might come from a different world, where people looked at her in a certain way, but here nobody knows her pain, nobody has seen her scars. Paxton Reed is one of the most popular kids in the Academy. He's rich, athletic, good-looking, girls throw themselves at his feet. Arthur Academy is his last chance to live his life relatively free, without stifling, overbearing control of his father and his family. There is a lot of drama and intense feelings in this book. It isn't clear who you can trust, who you can turn to, and everybody seems to have a secret or two in their closet. The attraction and chemistry between the protagonists is strong, but both of them have to grow and deal with their unresolved issues. The cliffhanger ending shocked me and made me desperately want to continue reading. Can't wait to get onto Book 2! AUTHOR BIO: Kathleen grew up in the south-western suburbs of Sydney, where family holidays by the beach and tormenting her two younger brothers, was how she spent her early years. But at the young age of 11, when she submitted a short story to a talented writing competition through the NSW schools program, not only did she win it, but she quickly found a love for it as well. Throughout her schooling, writing was a hobby, along with sketching and various sports. But fast forward to her adult years when she moved to Europe to follow her husbands field hockey dream, and her love for writing surged to the surface. Her debut story, Cut, was penned over two years where her hobby seemed to lead to the completion of Pennys' world. The rest of the series came the following year. Kathleen enjoys writing stories full of self-discovery, emotional journeys and of course, love. Something else she loves is hearing from her readers, so feel free to follow her blog or drop her an email. For signed copies of her novels, more information about upcoming stories, or to follow her blog, please visit her website www.kathleenmaree.weebly.com Dream often. Believe always. Author links: http://www.kathleenmaree.com/ https://www.facebook.com/kathleen.maree.author https://www.instagram.com/kathleenmaree.author/ https://twitter.com/kathleen_maree https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13919300.Kathleen_Mare_  Giveaway: Tour-wide giveaway (INT)
It’s a Curse Thing
-- EXCERPT: “Welcome to Hand Picked.” Eloise struck a pose at the top of her stairs and spoke to the gentleman who stood in her doorway, looking very much like a shabby prince with his stiff stance and sexy-as-hell five o’clock shadow. Was he her three o’clock? If so, she now wished she’d reapplied her Rouge Louboutin Velvet Matte lipstick after her cup of tea. Perhaps living in Knotty would be more than bores and snores after all. A little hot weekend sex would make the months go by faster. “Thank you,” he said. About to take a step forward, she paused, left foot dangling above the stair. Hmmm. What do we have here? His voice sounded familiar. She tilted her head to the left and tried to get a look at his profile. Nope. His face, what she could see of it in the shadows, didn’t ring any bells. Perhaps she’d overheard him talking while she’d explored the town last weekend. “Have you come to have your palm read?” Not waiting for his response, she lifted her floral, floor-length, multi-ruffled skirt and glided down the stairs, aiming to appear like a royal subject entering a magical ball being held in her honor. Not to impress the man. Not much anyway. But mostly because presentation mattered when one read palms for a living. With her skirt, she wore a black long sleeve bodysuit and a headscarf that had beads that dangled over her forehead. She’d been just as meticulous regarding her appearance when she had practiced law. Only then, instead of every aspect of her projecting flamboyant exuberance, she’d projected the appropriate image of strength and intelligence and the ability to cut your throat in a courtroom without leaving any traces of blood on her Louboutin heels. At the bottom of the stairs, she got her first shadow-free view of her latest customer. A view that caused her world to tumble and land ass up. Balls. Balls. Balls. 
GIVEAWAY! Palm reading examples: Look at the amazing crown of luck in this hand !!! It looks like a M in the middle of her palm, touching & empowering her heart line. This is the palm of a Starseed Princess, someone who is determined to leave her mark on this world and has all the mojo from her birth Starseed planet, which is Alpha Centauri to get it done. Her birthright lines shown between her heart and head line show she is a Starseed with much to do in this dimension. The key for her stepping into her power is shown in the head line area, is to remember who she really is, not to buy into the illusionary matrix. She has a powerful heart line and her ticket into the Universe is through an open activated heart chakra. Which shows some crosses and islands on the heart line. This is where image makers, teachers and even family may have tried to mold her and indoctrinate her with the ideas that the matrix is real. In order for her tap into her rich heritage as a Divine Princess of Alpha Centauri, she needs to learn deepening meditation skills, to get herself beyond the dark web trapping systems where she can activate the keys and codices of her birth star and bring that magic into this planet for the purpose of helping other Starseeds learn more of who they really are, to empower them through her heart centered ability to share knowledge and wisdom codes. This hand shows a good balance of Heart line across the top of her hand. It starts in the Mars + area under her pinky finger which is ruled by Mercury. The heart line runs all the way over to the Jupiter finger. The line is curved softly which shows a loving kind hearted nature. This represents a heart that can give and receive love. Her pinky shows there may be several men who fall in love with her. A neptunes fork is under her Apollo finger shooting off of her heart line. This very lucky sign shows opportunity for wealth, spirituality and deep love. The long and deep heart line shows her love runs deep, even though she may look cool as a cucumber on the surface. When she activates and steps up into her power, fully grounded in higher 5th dimensional awareness, she will be a force to be reckoned with. Hosted by:
Broken Hearts
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: The white undershirt I wore was covered in blood. Poppy’s blood. It was still on my hands. The wind felt like fingernails across my soul. God, I had forgotten the wind. Every minute here felt too long. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said. I shook my head. The Morellis had put out the Dead or Alive orders on Poppy. It was a fair guess they’d like me dead too. Caroline wanted both of us alive, but she wouldn’t give a shit who got hurt in the process. “Best stay away from us for a few days,” I told her. Sinead put her hand against my shoulder. I twitched, calming the urge to smack her hand away before I did it. “What are you doin’, Ronan?” “The less you know, Sinead,” I said with as much reassurance as possible. Which, judging from her face, was not all that reassuring. “Are you goin’ to hurt that lass?” Sinead asked. Yes. As bad as I can. As much as it takes. “No. I’m gettin’ her free of a net she was caught in.” “And you?” Was I the net? Holding the net? Maybe I was caught in it too. Feck. I was bashed. “I’m fine, Sinead. I always am. You know that.” “It’s all right if you’re not. Some adult in your life should have said that to you before it was too late.” “It was too late when I was born,” I told her. “But thank you.” She pressed her lips tight, and I imagined there were a thousand things she might say about the boy I’d been and the night she’d saved me. “Go,” I told her. “We’ll be fine. I’m going to change, eat something, and then talk to Poppy. Thank you, again, for the use of your cottage.” “You paid me.” “You didn’t have to accept.” Though it had been the kind of money a pensioner would be foolish not to accept. “God, boyo.” She sighed. “Look at what’s come of you?” I saw myself as she might. Too thin. I was always too thin for her. Exhausted. Bloody. A dangerous man with a dangerous amount of money and a bag full of guns. I was what this place made of me, despite her efforts to soften the edges. Sinead left. And it was just the cottage, the moaning wind, and the dark outside. The closed door to the bedroom. Poppy. Dead or Alive.
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by:
Royally Crushed
-- Get book 1 for FREE for a limited time only! -- EXCERPT FROM ROYALLY CRUSHED: WILL BANKS I’ve been a very good groomsman. I’ve smiled for all the photos. I laughed through the many toasts and I’ve done a bang-up job of pretending life couldn’t be better for me all day, even though there is a boulder of worry lodged in my chest. And now, it’s time for me to get piss-stinking drunk. The trick with over-imbibing at a wedding is to make it look like you’re carrying drinks for other people. In this case, four flutes of champagne from the champagne fountain. Two could still possibly look like I’m going to drink them myself, but four seems far too ridiculous for anyone to suspect me of what I’m actually doing, which is filling them, then carrying them through the hotel ballroom with a purposeful look on my face, stopping periodically to down one and leave the glass. I’m just filling up the last flute when I hear a woman’s voice behind me. “Rough day?” Glancing over my shoulder, I see a lovely blonde in a blue gown. Her hair is up in some sort of complicated fancy do, and she has the most mesmerizing light blue eyes I think I’ve ever seen. My jaw goes slack for an instant before I pull myself together. “These aren’t all for me.” Taking one from my hand, she says, “Sure they’re not. I saw you earlier crossing the room with your first four glasses. Excellent trick. No one would ever imagine someone making such a pig of himself.” “No offense, though, right?” I say, tipping back my glass and downing it. I set the glass down and hold my right hand out. “Will Banks.” She shakes my hand even though she seems like the type of woman who’s more used to men kissing her knuckles lightly. “Yes, I know who you are.” I blush a little and get that slightly squishy feeling that comes along with being sort of famous. “Right, sorry, it’s hard for me to wrap my head around people knowing who I am everywhere I go.” “Occupational hazard, I guess,” she says with a grin. “And what are the hazards of your occupation?” I ask. Oooh, that was pretty smooth, if I do say so myself. She stares at me for a second, then says, “It’s a bit difficult to put a finger on it, but I suppose you could say I’m in public relations.” “I’ll try not to hate you for it,” I say with a wink. “I’m assuming there’s some sort of delicious backstory to that comment. Perhaps something that requires eight glasses of champagne to forget.” “Something like that.” I watch, thoroughly engrossed as she takes a dainty sip. “Not that I’d ever complain, because believe me, I know how lucky I am to be doing the work I do, but there are aspects of it I could do without.” She nods, a look of understanding crossing her face that makes me want to continue the conversation. I stare at her for a moment and can’t help but feel like she’s somehow familiar. “Have we met before?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “You’d remember me,” she says with a little smile. “Ha! Good one,” I say, having a swig of my drink. “Did you enjoy the wedding?” “It was quite lovely.” “Whose side are you on? The bride or the groom?” “The groom,” she says. “He’s a friend of my older brother.” “Your brother must be quite the person. Pierce is very selective with who he allows in his inner circle.” “Yes, you could say that.” She glances around, then looks back at me. “What about you? Are you a fan of weddings in general?” “For other people. You?” “Agreed. Marriage is definitely not for me.” “So, it’s a life of public relations for you, is it?” “It’s what I was born to do.” “Well, I hope whoever you work for, they’re good to you—not all stuffy like this lot. All the wannabe royals thinking they’re so very important when the truth is nobody outside this ballroom knows who they are, and if they did, they wouldn’t care.” “Or worse, the actual royals,” she says with a knowing look. “God, yes. What a useless existence that would be. I mean, they’re not even in charge of anything real anymore. It’s just a whole life of pomp and ceremony.” “Pathetic, right?” she answers, rolling her eyes. “I actually heard someone earlier saying they feel sorry for them.” “Absurd.” “Yeah, honestly. They went on and on about how hard it would be to live in the spotlight your entire life.” I take a sip of my drink. “As someone with a bit of fame, I can tell you, there’s very little to complain about.” “Well, of course there wouldn’t be anything to whine about. Not with all the perks and privileges.” “Exactly. If they want to do something hard, they should get dropped off in Siberia in the dead of winter and try to survive for a week without their chefs and maids and heated toilet seats.” “Ha!” she says. God, I like her. She gets me. I wonder if she’d be up for a shag? “They’d be calling for a helicopter in under an hour, I can guarantee it.” “Probably even less,” she agrees, giving me a conspiratorial look. I glance down at her full lips, then lower my voice. “Say, you wouldn’t want to get out of here, would you? Somewhere not quite so stuffy.” She leans in close enough that I can smell her perfume. I have no idea what it is, but it smells like money. She must do really well for herself in the public relations biz. “Somewhere that I could let my hair down and we could get to know each other better.” This is actually going to happen, isn’t it? I nod. “Exactly.” She opens her mouth, but before she can answer, an older man in a grey suit taps her on the shoulder. “Princess Arabella, delightful to see you again. My wife and I would love to talk to you about a foundation we’re starting for homeless birds.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Shock vibrates through me as my words about her family echo through my brain. Pomp and ceremony. Not in charge of anything real anymore. I am so not getting lucky tonight. I give her a sheepish look, wishing I could think of a clever way to make it all better, but I’ve got nothing. Just embarrassment and regret. “So … you’re … I did not … I am so …” “I am, I know you didn’t, and I’m sure you are,” Princess Arabella says with an amused smile. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Banks.” She holds up her glass to me. “But I’m afraid it’s time to get back to my useless existence.” 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #BookBlitz #Grave Robbing and Other Hobbiesby Jayce Carter #Paranormal Romance @Xpresso Book tours28/4/2021
Grave Robbing and Other Hobbies
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Hunter didn’t remove his hand from my mouth. It made me realize he was also entirely pressed against me, and despite it not being possible, he felt better than he’d looked. His skin was warm, even through my robe. He took his hand off my mouth but didn’t move away. “Stay still,” he whispered against my ear. “Why? Is it coming back?” “No. I just really like looking down your robe.” As soon as his words sank in, when I moved past the adrenaline and the purr of his voice, I realized that yes, my robe had bagged open and he had a perfect view down the front. I elbowed him, but he didn’t seem to even feel it. He released me, though the way he did it implied my little move hadn’t meant a thing. “I am so tired of people breaking into my house,” I said. “You aren’t human, and you don’t have any wards. That’s the same as a ‘come on in’ sign in our world.” “I am human.” “Sure, shadow-girl.” He sent me a conspiratorial wink, as if we were on the joke together. “No, I actually am. No funky teeth, no freaky eyes. Human.” I pointed at my face as though that drove the point home. He waved at himself. “No funky teeth, no freaky eyes. Very much not human. Sure, though, if you want to pretend, I’m not one to turn down a bit of good roleplay. You want to be innocent Little Red Riding Hood? I’ll play the wolf.” His suggestion derailed me. How could it not? Any girl who claimed she hadn’t had entirely inappropriate dreams about the wolf in that story was a damned liar. Once I’d reached a certain age, ‘all the better to eat you with’ had taken on a very different meaning. I pictured a dark, heavily wooded forest as I ran, something on my heels, gaining ground. His warm breath on my neck when he caught me… Suddenly I didn’t care what he’d said, why he was there or what exactly he meant by him ‘not being human’. Until I recalled he’d broken in, and clearly him showing up at my office wasn’t a coincidence. He snorted. “I liked where your mind was going before.” “What are you doing here? And what was that thing?” “Don’t we have better things to discuss? Or we can do away with talking all together.” “I don’t sleep with people who might kill me, but thanks.” “If someone might not kill you, are they even worth sleeping with in the first place?” 
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Honey Bun
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Once we were alone, I clinked glasses with her as she grew quiet. “Now, it’s your turn. What happened?” She sipped her wine and closed her eyes. The lines on her face grew deeper, and my heart sped up. I wished I had the power to erase whatever pain she had. Then she met my gaze. “Two days ago, I hit the road. My husband has a new girlfriend and a new victim of his anger. I want a divorce and to not have to run.” She brushed her cheek, and I peered closer. Under her makeup, there was a trace of a bruise. “And I have no place to live, no job. I used my last few pennies to get here, and I’m probably dreaming that all will somehow be okay.” My heart ached for her. Her pain was palpable. I brushed against her hand. “I’d like to help.” She finished her glass and shook her head. “No. I have my mother. I don’t need a handout.” Pride often stopped people. I poured her the second glass and changed tactics. “Look, I need an assistant who can handle my never-ending schedule and help me coordinate events.” The food came, and she waited till we were alone and then asked, “So you’re offering me a job?” I would do anything to keep her smiling and happy. And I’d never had an assistant stick around for too long. I didn’t trust the ones I hired enough to train them fully, and the better ones all ended up quitting on me. Maddie was perfect. I’d always trusted her. I cut my food. “I’d need you to take my calls, arrange my schedule, run events—which is your specialty—and ensure that everything I need to do in a day is organized. I’m hard to please, my HR manager said, but I pay well.” She stared at her plate like it was a lifeline. I didn’t want to cause her pain, so I waited. Then she asked, “You’re serious?” I sipped my wine to clear my palate. “Fuck yeah. You’re not scared to talk to me, which already gives you an advantage over the last few assistants, who couldn’t handle the job.” She cut her burger in half and grinned like she’d just found a present from Santa. “So, you’re a demanding boss.” Maybe not entirely with you. She’d accepted my help, and this way, we would stay in touch. And when she was ready, she would tell me more. I tasted my food, which was perfectly cooked. “The job would come with a place to stay that’s close to me and in the right school zones.” The second I said that, I felt my face heat. I hadn’t meant to push. The information had slipped out. We ate in silence. But my shoulders felt stronger, like I could handle whatever problems she threw at me. As we finished, she sipped her wine and then said, “Maybe I should say no to the job. I don’t want to take your charity.” Right. I said too much. The truth was, I was drawn to her. “It’s not charity. I’ll take a lot of your time, so the place is a perk of the job. The markets in other countries means I need you at strange hours. And you’ll be able to save some of your paycheck if you’re good at budgeting.” She twisted her glass, then she sipped her wine and took a deep breath. “Let me think about it. I didn’t meet you tonight so you could give me a job. I haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet or even slept really. I just thought it would be nice to catch up.” At work, I was the boss and solved all problems. I was sure I could figure out her problems, too, but I would need her permission and her trust. So I changed directions. Since we’d talked about my family, I asked about hers. Her father had died two years before, and she hadn’t come home. I’d looked for her when I was on the island the weekend of her father’s funeral. I sipped my wine. “Your dad wouldn’t want you working for me.” “That doesn’t matter.” She sat straighter. “He died two years ago.” My family was my support system. I put my glass down. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost mine.” She wiped her face and said simply, “Yeah, well, your family is not a lot like mine.” That was true, but she was all I’d wanted at one point. I whispered like we were sharing a secret no one else should hear, “No, but when we were kids, I wanted us to find a way to work out. I missed you that summer when I was eighteen and alone here.” “With your family, you were never alone.” She held up her glass. I did the same, and we clinked them. “If I’d been here, maybe my life would have been very different, but let’s just be thankful we had this evening.” “Fair enough. I’m with the only woman who ever dared to tell me no.” Her eyes widened, but she finished her sip. “That can’t be true.” Actually, it was. I handed my platinum card to the server, who then left. “It is. Money usually makes people agree to anything.” She tilted her head like she agreed and finished her glass. “We all need it.” The last thing she needed to do was lie to herself. I finished my own glass and shook my head. “No, we don’t. It’s a tool, but it’s not the reason to do anything.” “Tool, right.” She threw her head back and laughed. “You sound like a rich boy. Thank you for meeting me tonight, but I should get home.” And once again, she hadn’t given me permission to fix her life. The waitress returned with my card. I signed and then walked out with Maddie. “I’ll pop over tomorrow, and we’ll talk about the job again. You can read over the contract via email.” She sucked in her lips, but then she texted me her email and headed toward the black truck that her mother usually drove to the garden. She turned and waved. “Good night.” Most women I had drinks with offered to warm my bed, but that wasn’t Maddie. She was a lady. I had no idea what I needed to do to get her to trust me, but I had to figure out how to prove myself to her. For some reason, she made the world nicer to live in when I was around her. And I knew it was wrong, as she was married, but I wanted to find out if she still tasted like she had when I was a boy. 
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