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Men in Books Aren’t Better
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks -- EXCERPT: Searching for an escort was not the same as searching for porn. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I hit enter on my keyboard. Holding my breath, I waited as the list of results—Elite Males, Premium Gigolos, Stags R Us—populated my laptop screen. I perched on the edge of my black leather desk chair in my home office overlooking the Seattle harbor. All the entries sounded like adult films. Each one screamed precisely what to expect, which made choosing any one in particular impossible. With one eye shut and a tentative finger, I clicked on the top entry, Elite Males. An obscene amount of oiled flesh filled most of my monitor—a close-up photo of a smooth-chested guy flexing his defined muscles while lying on his back. The shot highlighted his torso and prominent tattoos, capturing only his lips and chin; he was clean-shaven, and his jaw was also, for some reason, shiny. Ugh! Too much! The home page wasn’t quite as bad as I’d expected but still cringe-worthy: almost laughable. The guy in the image provided what was supposed to be an enticing, yet exaggerated, display, which I assumed—combined with his other “talents” listed in the reviews that read like porn—must have earned him his five-star rating. To each his own. The parts of the man I could see on my screen were considered conventionally hot. However, after reading the list of customers’ erotic comments, I swallowed back the bitter tang filling my mouth. I felt dirty just looking at his image—and desperate. But I guess, for all intents and purposes, I was. My deadline from my publisher loomed overhead, and I had no manuscript to submit. My stomach rolled. “It’s been a year, Molly,” Renee had said last week after huffing into the phone. “The editors expect something after that advance. Your reputation will only buy you so much time. Can you at least give me the first fifty pages so I can appease them? Try to barter an extension?” Picturing Renee’s scowl was easy—an otherwise non-existent crinkle above the bridge of her button nose, with her perpetual bold lips in full pout mode. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. “I’ll get you something soon. I promise.” 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Last Call by A.S.Kelly (Love at Last 1) #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours25/11/2024
Last Call
-- EXCERPT: Last Call, Love At Last #1 “Please, Jordan. Tell me there won’t be any more contracts to sign.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
How Well Do You Know Your Husband?
-- EXCERPT: I’ve been watching her for three weeks now. She hasn’t noticed, perpetually focused on herself, lost in her thoughts. Not for the first time, I struggle to understand what he loves about her. I suppose it could be the obvious things. Anyone can see she’s beautiful, but so are a million other women in New York City. She’s caring, but everyone cares about something. What makes her so special? Her gray knit dress moves with her as she walks, accentuating the way her slim waist curves into round hips. He wasn’t supposed to fall for her, but I think he has. She was supposed to be temporary, a fleeting chapter in his life, but she has become a permanent fixture. I watch her as she lines up at a street vendor and orders a pretzel, refusing the change offered by the mustached man who delivers the freshly baked knot with a smile that reaches his eyes. She doesn’t appreciate the life she has been given. She spends his money as if it’s hers to waste, buying new things for their home. Treating herself to expensive clothing. People who do bad things shouldn’t get away with it. There are meant to be repercussions. I’m not superstitious enough to expect justice, but she did what she did, and now there should be consequences. Order maintained. Rules followed. Tonight may be the night I end her life, like she ended mine. I slip a hand into my pocket and feel the smooth metal, imagining what it would be like to sink it into her side. I would leave her there for everyone to see who she really is instead of the perfect avatar of a loving wife she’s created. She’s hiding her true self now, but all she needs is a nudge for her real nature to surface. He won’t love her once he sees that. The smell of unemptied trash in the alleyway fills my nostrils, growing more pungent, but I press on. I curl my fingers around the knife and increase my pace to catch up. She’s fast, but I’m taller, lengthening my strides so I don’t lose her. I’m close now. Much closer, and I risk being noticed. I promised myself that if that happens, my choice will be made, and I will kill her. 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Serpentina by Faith Consiglio #Science Fiction #Young Adult @Xpresso Book Tours22/11/2024
SERPENTINA
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: “Dark leaves rustled in the forest, their dried tips rubbing against each other like the slow rattle of a snake. Emma paused, a warning echoing in her mind. Since her arrival to the reptile research base on Crete, she had ventured into the palm forest alone each afternoon, wandering deeper each time. Never enter the forest alone. It was the rule her research mentor emphasized most during orientation. But there was nothing truly dangerous on the island. Hercules had cleared away all the deadly creatures to honor Zeus’s birthplace. She smiled, recounting the myth the airport taxi driver had told them. Emma knew, out of all the snakes there, only the cat snake had venom, and it was too mild to hurt a human. Still, if Dr. Belken discovered her sneaking out at dusk, she might as well kiss a Columbia University recommendation letter goodbye. Yet the forest called her in, beckoning her to explore its ancient grounds. She stepped over sandy soil, glancing over her shoulder at the wooden stairs and scanning to see if anyone was watching before turning into the trees. She savored a breath. The air was dry and the heat tame, with an endless breeze carrying wisps of sea salt and the spice of wild herbs through the dancing shadows of leaves. A rustling halted her steps. Her eyes darted to catch a beige, reptilian tail slipping into the nearby shrubs. She held her breath and crept toward it, afraid to scare it off. It would sense the vibration of even her lightest step. She peered through a thicket of narrow, glossy leaves and clustered pink flowers. Her heart pounded, instincts heightened, but she reminded herself that even a bite couldn’t kill her. At first, she didn’t see anything. Then scales materialized among the leaves on a thick, coiled body. Only now they were green and pink. She squinted. Was it a different snake, or had it changed? Its serpentine head emerged through the leaves, forked tongue flickering. She froze. This was not a cat snake.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
Off the Bench
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: This scene picks up after the NFL draft, where Austin did not get drafted. His two friends, Omar and Caleb, take him out to try to cheer him up. As I peruse the new photographs in my buddy Omar’s bar, my eye catches on a girl walking into the bar. She’s tall and elegant, gliding as if she’s not even touching the ground. I find myself taking in every detail of her, because I can’t help it. Her braids are caught in a twisting bun at the top of her head. Her almond-shaped eyes are assessing the room, as if she’s looking for someone. Her dark cheekbones shimmer with a mesmerizing blend of girl magic that I don’t understand. I admit I linger a little too long on her full lips. Her long neck reminds me of a dancer—she’s as graceful as a ballerina. I’ve only gotten to her shoulders when Caleb notices my perusal. “Ask her to come over here,” he says, mouth full with chicken wings. I force my eyes from her, feeling greedy for more. I push my IPA away, wondering if the pull I feel toward her is more a product of the alcohol rather than some kind of supernatural tug she has. “I’m not going to go just talk to some random girl who’s clearly here to meet someone else.” “Maybe she’s here to meet a hunky football player,” Omar says with a smirk. I snort, but don’t speak the words that come to my mind: I’m not a football player anymore. And it’s the first time since the draft ended that I’ve felt a deep twinge of grief. I may have convinced myself that I’m content with how things worked out, but I’ve been a football player my whole life. I don’t know how not to be a football player. I sigh and half-heartedly dip a chip in the artichoke dip when I realize Caleb and Omar are still looking at me expectantly. “Guys, I’m not going to go talk to her. It’s just not who I am.” “Tell me, exactly, what you are, man. Because I don’t get it.” Omar’s got that fire in his dark brown eyes that always makes me a little uncomfortable, like he’s about to start a fight. “From where I’m sitting, it seems like you’re just someone who lets opportunities slip from his fingers without a fight.” “Dang, bro, chill,” Caleb says to Omar as he reaches for more nachos. “It’s fine,” I say. Omar plants his hands on the table, standing. “It’s not fine.” And then he walks away. “Who got his panties in a bunch?” I mutter. “He’s overcompensating for your lack of feelings over the draft thing,” Caleb says in a fleeting moment of insight. I grunt and return to my IPA. But I just about spit it out when I realize Omar’s gone over to talk to the girl. I mutter under my breath as I set the IPA back on the table, where it sloshes over the edge, getting beer all over my hand. I scramble for a napkin, keeping my focus on wiping up my mess as I sense Omar and the girl walking over to our table. When she’s beside us, I finally glance up. Looking at her up close takes my breath away, and I’m pathetically speechless. “Austin Taylor?” she says as I’m momentarily distracted by the mesmerizing way her lips move. Then I’m confused about how she knows my full name. “Uh, yeah?” I’m struck next by how closed off her features are. This girl didn’t come over here to flirt with a guy—and the realization cuts almost as deep as my football future. Then, she says the craziest words I’ve ever heard: “My name is Dani Marshall and I’m here to sign you to the Tampa Bay Bucs.” Want to find out what happens with Dani and Austin? Pre-order Off the Bench here. While you wait, read the first two chapters on my website here. 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #The Geography of Happiness by Jay Hogan (Mackenzie Country, 4) @Xpresso Book Tours21/11/2024
The Geography of Happiness
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: “There’s the welcoming committee.” Luke indicated directly ahead, where three tiny figures stood next to a red-roofed hanger, a group of dogs sitting quietly to one side. “I’ll have you down in a jiffy.” A minute or so later, the chopper’s skids set down gently on the grass, and I immediately recognised the dog trainer, Zach, from his website. He wore a green checked shirt and light-wash jeans tucked into leather cowboy boots—handsome and wholesomely country. I glanced at Luke who was wearing a broad grin, his attention locked on his husband. The other two men had to be the station owners, Gil and Holden, although I wasn’t sure who was who—one blond and one with a head of messy dark curls. When the chopper powered down, Zach jogged across and opened Hannah’s door, wearing a dazzling smile that had me warming to him immediately. “Well, hello there, beautiful girl. You must be the one and only Hannah O’Connor.” Hannah beamed. “I am. Nice to meet you, Mister Lane.” Luke snorted. “Just call him Zach. We don’t want to give him any ideas.” “Too late.” Zach threw his husband a cheeky grin. “I think I like the sound of Mister Lane.” Luke laughed. “Yeah, right. In your dreams, sweetheart.” “And you must be Terry.” Zach offered me his hand. His website photo had really done zero justice to those stunning green eyes. “I am.” I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “Right, let’s get you out of there.” Zach offered Hannah a helping hand, which she accepted while I stared at my daughter in amazement. Hannah hated being helped to do anything if she could possibly avoid it. Hannah turned to grab her elbow crutches and shot me a don’t-you-dare-say-anything look. Like hell. I wasn’t that brave. But it was a good start to the week if my daughter already trusted the trainer, so I took it as a win. With Hannah on the ground, Gabby swept past my knees to join her while I grabbed our bags, Hannah’s canes which she used on her better days, and her wheelchair which she needed for longer distances. “Here, let me take some of that.” Luke took our bags and popped the canes under his arms before making his way back toward the other two men. “Well, hello there, girl.” Zach dangled his hand for Gabby to take a long sniff but made no move to touch her. The retriever eyed him suspiciously before finally nudging his hand with her wet nose in grudging approval. That done, she scoped out her surroundings, her gaze lingering uncertainly on the other dogs. Zach instructed the group of three to stay where they were. “We’ll let Gabby settle in before they meet properly. Right now she’s understandably nervous. Was that her first flight?” “First time in a chopper,” Hannah corrected. “She flew to Wellington with us last week and then down to Christchurch.” Zach nodded. “Helicopters are scary beasts. Looks like she did well. But these surroundings and all the smells are new, and she won’t feel safe leaving your side for a while.” Hannah nodded. “She’s a good dog.” Zach smiled approvingly. “I can see that. Now come and meet the others.” He led us across to where Luke stood chatting and waved a hand at the curious canines as he passed. “Get away back.” Every dog walked a good ten metres away and sat. “This is a beautiful place you have here,” I commented as we reached the others. “Not mine, unfortunately.” Zach nodded toward the two men. “Holden here is owner. I just have the privilege of living and working here.” I kept my surprise under wraps as the younger of the two—mid-thirties at a push—stepped forward to shake my hand, his dark brown eyes scanning my face. “Nice to meet you, Terry. And you, Miss Hannah.” Holden shot Hannah a wink. “Call me Holden.” Hannah smiled brightly. “Nice to meet you, Holden,” “And this is my partner and much better half, Gil.” Holden extended his hand toward the blond man who was maybe in his forties with shrewd hazel eyes that seemed to look right through you. The man took it without hesitation, allowing himself to be pulled forward. “Gil manages everything around here that doesn’t have four legs. He’s also a psychologist and is responsible for the station’s wellness retreat programme.” Gil chuckled. “Well, Holden’s right about the four-legged part, at least. Those critters are definitely not my superpower. Nice to meet you, Terry. You too, Hannah.” He shook hands with both of us. The two men made a handsome couple, but when I shot a sideways glance to where Luke and Zach were sharing a quiet moment, I amended that thought—make that two handsome couples. “And while we’re doing introductions . . .” Gil indicated the large huntaway sitting off to one side with the others, his gaze locked on Gil. “That’s Spider. You might say he’s my self-appointed and self-trained assistance dog. Where I go, he goes.” Hannah’s eyes widened. “Self-trained?” Gil winked. “I’ll tell you about it one day. The dog next to Spider is Batman, one of Holden’s dogs, and the girl at the end is Nina. She belongs to Zach.” A car horn blasted, and I turned to see a ute, barrelling down the road beside the air strip, with Oakwood Veterinary Clinic stamped on the driver’s door. As it drew alongside, the ute slowed and the driver stuck his head out the window. “I’ll need to come back to finish the others later in the week. And I want to check that bull again if you can bring him in. I’ll let you know when.” Holden nodded. “Sure. No problem.” The driver’s gaze slid sideways to me and a warm smile stole over his face. “So, who do we have here?” He looked me up and down. “A set of fresh victims—oops, I mean guests.” “Hardy har har,” Gil mocked. “You think you’re so funny.” He shot me an apologetic look. “Excuse our friend here. He’s off his medication.” “Terry and Hannah, this is our vet, Spencer.” Holden swept a hand toward the ute. Hannah gave the man a wave. “Hi, Spencer.” “Hi to you too.” Spencer shot Hannah a sunny smile. “That’s a good-looking dog you’ve got there.” Hannah practically glowed. “Thanks. Her name’s Gabby. She’s a golden retriever and she’s my service dog. I have juvenile idiopathic arthritis.” I rested a gentle hand on Hannah’s shoulder. I loved that she was always so open. “Is that right?” Spencer leaned out his window for a closer look at Gabby. “Well, she sure is a beauty. She must be a big help to you.” “She is.” Hannah nodded enthusiastically. “But Dad calls her a lovable drain on our bank accounts.” Everyone laughed, including Spencer. “Wow, thanks for that, sweetheart.” I walked over to shake Spencer’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” The vet’s warm hand wrapped around mine. “The pleasure is all mine.” His gaze lingered and heat raced into my traitorous cheeks. I smiled faintly and quickly stepped away as he added, “Don’t let these guys boss you around. Before you know it, they’ll put you to work and have you thinking it was all your idea.” “Ignore him.” Holden slapped the ute’s roof a couple of times. “Go on, get out of here. I’m not paying for your idle chit-chat.” Spencer laughed. “You wish.” He shot me another quick smile and then disappeared in a cloud of dust. 
GIVEAWAY! --
A Vampire’s Star
-- EXCERPT: Bell Center, Montreal, Québec Mathilda Ethel Davenport! Come on, girl. Tilly chided herself in the chilly, autumn night as she cradled her pregnant belly under the stark streetlights behind the Montreal Bell Center. It’s his child. He’s the only one who can keep you safe. She rallied the courage she needed to dive into the horde of Cass St-Amand’s adoring fans waiting outside to catch a peek at their favorite rock star after his show. The midnight air was crisp around her, the wind picking up a few dead maple leaves littering the concrete sidewalk. Yet the fall breeze did little to dilute the mixed scent of cheap perfume and body odor emanating from the boisterous mob awaiting their idol to exit the concert venue. Standing amidst the downtown glass skyscrapers and centuries-old stone buildings, most of Cass’s superfans were not yet twenty-five, sporting jeans, leather jackets, or bodycon dresses under tiny coats. Tilly winced and rubbed her belly once more. Her little munchkin was his baby alright. Conceived in the middle of a frigid winter, exactly thirty-six weeks ago today. Would he believe it was his? Vampires, even immortal ones, did not father children. Except that Cass had chosen to spend those few fateful nights not with just any woman, but a supernatural one—Tilly was a banshee. One who walked with Death. Everything was possible. She bit the inside of her mouth at the task ahead of her. He had no idea she was pregnant with his child. How would he react? He would have to acknowledge he was the father. But she’d cross that bridge when she’d get there. For now, she just had to reach him. 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance by Nicole Snow @Xpresso Book Tours17/11/2024
One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance
-- EXCERPT: My one-night stand is my boss. The biggest life-scorching mistake I’ve ever made is my boss. The father of my child is my boss. Inwardly, I’m screaming, and I can’t show it. Because the handsome stranger who turned my life upside down without ever knowing it is my flipping cockamamie boss, and there’s nothing I can do about it. This is the sort of Twilight Zone coincidence that’s only supposed to happen in movies and stay there. But this is real life and I’m hilariously screwed. I’m too paralyzed to even laugh. I linger on the rooftop after he leaves, still holding the dirty towel in my hands like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. It’s definitely ruined, just like he said. Just like this shiny new job after a morning that’s been one long cataclysm after the next. Except now they all pale in comparison to finding out Grumpybutt is my unknown baby daddy. “Mommy? Is everything okay?” Arlo asks, his eyes wide. It’s so not okay. I’m pretty sure this day is the textbook definition of anti-okay. He stares at me with those big blue eyes, just like Patton Rory’s. Hopefully, that’s something he didn’t notice. But I need to sit down before I throw up. Wouldn’t that be the rancid cherry on top of my crap-luck sundae? Arlo spills hot chocolate over Patton Rory’s suit, and I hurl all over his precious leather chairs. “Everything’s fine, baby,” I whisper, bending to soak up more cocoa on the floor. “Mr. Grumpybutt was mad.” Yes, he was mad. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Step One
-- EXCERPT: “You.” The single word from Yuri yanks me out of my reverie. “Indigo, is it?” I nod numbly. “Come here, please.” Yuri points at the center of the floor then folds his arms and waits. I take my position there standing still. “We begin like this,” he says, posing as I remember from the video of Irina. He shows me the first counts of eight for my solo and I mark the steps as I watch. I’ve memorized them after the second time he walks them through; thankfully I’ve always been quick to pick up choreography. “You have it?” he demands gruffly. I nod. “Show me.” he steps back and leans on the barre at the front of the room, watching me intently, like a cat tracking a careless bird. I spread my feet wide and bend forward at the waist, imagining the pose as I remember Irina did it. Aside from Yuri’s counting, the room is silent and still; I feel the others watching. But I can’t think about that. I must only think about the counts and where my body is going, one second ahead so I am there when I am supposed to be– “No!” he claps loudly. “Let me see position again.” I recreate the pose I was in before he interrupted. “No.” he shakes his head vigorously. “It is like this.” He strikes the pose. “You see?” I don’t understand the difference but I don’t dare say anything. I nod. “More energy in fingertips,” he suggests. I try again, this time I imagine sparks shooting out of my fingertips. This seems to work, since he lets me continue. I rise en pointe, bringing one leg into passé retiré, the toes touching the side of my standing leg near the knee. “Stop.” More clapping. He marches over to me again. “Make me passé,” he says. I rise back into the position, more forcefully this time, but still he shakes his head. “It is impossible,” he states. “This is not passé. It must be in front of knee, like this,” he says, demonstrating. Miss Roberta would frown on this placement, I think. Another example of how different ballet technique is from one company to the next, from one country to the next. Still, I comply. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to learn slight variations, to have more translations in my pocket. You never know when they might come in handy in the future. Another passé, then close in fifth position, and pirouette from fifth– “No again.” He clenches his hands into fists this time and stomps over to Skinny Snow White. I catch the first word, “Olgachkova” and then get lost inthe flurry of words that follow, none of which I understand. When he falls silent, Skinny Snow White nods in assent and replies, “Da.” Skinny Snow White removes the plastic warmup pants she was wearing and makes her way over to me. Yuri flaps a hand at me impatiently, indicating I should step aside. “Olga will show,” he says, turning to her with an enormous smile of beatitude. I edge out of her way, trying not to feel crushed. I know that having Olga dance in my place is meant to be a teaching tool, something to help me ultimately, but it still stings. That feeling intensifies as she moves gracefully through the choreography, flowing smoothly through the passés and turns as effortlessly as a fish swirls through water. I try to focus on what she’s doing so I can learn. I’d like to figure out exactly what it is that Yuri’s looking for, that I haven’t got. Yet. But it’s almost impossible to ignore that this woman is one of the most exquisite dancers I’ve ever watched. I’ve told myself oodles of time I must never ever, under any circumstances, make comparisons–because comparison is always a losing game. But how not to when the glaring differences are practically smacking me in the face? Yuri claps again. “Enough. Khorosho, blagodaryu vas, Olga. We will break. Return in twenty minutes.” I stand paralyzed, mute with a flurry of thoughts pirouetting in my mind. After watching Olga dance I don’t know how I will ever measure up. I want to, but it seems like an impossible task. Where to even begin? Who can help? Can anyone? What do I need to do to reach that same level of precision and perfection? All I can think is that even if I were to sneak from my bed and dance all night long, wearing out pair after pair of pointe shoes every night up until our performances, like the Twelve Dancing Princesses fairytale, I’m not sure even that would be enough. br class=”blank” /> 
GIVEAWAY! --
The Dasher: Cindy’s Version
-- EXCERPT: Lisa Tennent is the heiress of the “Tennent Surf Company” dynasty, and it’s about to go under. Her father, the patriarch, has disappeared, her brother is a lazy HIMBO, her debutante mother is uninterested, and her uncle just mansplained her—again. None of them will right the sinking ship; she has to do it herself. Thankfully, Jason Mattis, the legendary “Zen Shredder,” is back in Huntington Beach after twenty years and wants to help. Ben’s new brother-in-law, the three-time world champion surfer Jason Mattis, has just made him an offer he can’t refuse. He’ll work as his assistant, and Jason will pay off his debts. That includes saving his former sponsor “Tennent Surf Company” and Lisa Tennent, who is in a familiar emotional and mental health crisis. Ben knows all about Lisa’s frustration and anger and makes it his mission to be the friend and lover Lisa needs. Only she doesn’t know it yet. 
GIVEAWAY! -- |
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