Excerpt & Giveaway ~*~ Surrender by Violetta Rand

Surrender
Devil’s Den # 1

By: Violetta Rand

Releasing January 27^th, 2015

Loveswept

Blurb

Welcome to the Devil’s Den, a Texas strip club where the air is heavy with desire—and sometimes dreams come true.

Ever since her mother kicked her out, twenty-year-old Robyn Gonzalez has been working the poles at the Devil’s Den, saving up to finish college and travel the world. With only her wits and her gorgeous body to rely on, Robyn has learned to be independent—fiercely independent. She’s never been tempted to let a man distract her from her dreams . . . until she meets the dead-sexy Garrick Dempsey.

The club’s new head of security, Garrick had walked away from a career as a mechanical engineer to return to his roots in Corpus Christi. He hadn’t planned on getting to know someone like Robyn, with her sinfully sweet combination of vulnerability and strength, at the Devil’s Den. She acts tough, but only because she’s been hurt. Soon Garrick knows he will do anything to win Robyn’s trust. And if that means surrendering to the red-hot chemistry between them, all the better.

  

 Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/10/surrender-devils-den-1-by-violetta-rand.html

Goodreads Link:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22926876-surrender?from_search=true

Buy Links:

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 Excerpt:

A loud banging noise from somewhere near the manager’s office startles me. I stand up. I can’t see very well. Only three lampposts are working near the end of the pier. None of the ones closest to me are on. I grab my backpack, stuff the towel inside, zip it up, and walk hurriedly toward the office. I grab my cell phone from my pocket and keep it at the ready. I see movement as I get closer to the office. The door slams shut. I freeze, listening.

“Where’s the goddamned money, Franco?”

“I don’t have it,” I hear the manager answer.

Nothing about this situation feels right. I have strong fight-or-flight instincts. And that voice inside is telling me to run. Now.

“Ten thousand dollars just went poof?” the angry stranger asks.

“No,” Franco answers. “I spent it on my family.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Honesty isn’t always the best policy if your ass is on the line. I know this situation—I’ve overheard similar conversations between men in the club. No wonder Franco stays late. He’s dealing drugs after hours. I know it.

There’s a pause in the conversation. I slip forward a few feet. Maybe I should walk on by. Casually. Yeah, that won’t work.

“Put your hand on the desk,” the stranger commands.

“No . . .” Franco refuses feebly. “I won’t let you hurt me.”

That elicits an evil laugh. I shudder. I’m getting nervous for Franco. He’s always been nice to me. Don’t get involved, I tell myself. I have enough to deal with.

“Put your hand on the fucking desk.”

“No.”

The exchange is more heated now, more desperate.

This is the best time to make my exit. I’m a great sprinter; I went all-state in high school. I sling my backpack across my left shoulder and grip my phone tightly in my right hand. Go! I run past the office, clearing the end of the pier, and hit sand before I hear someone in hot pursuit. Sand turns to gravelly asphalt and I slip on my sandals. Damn it. I’ll lose precious seconds if I look over my shoulder. How many races did I blow as a freshman looking back? I won’t make that mistake again. I kick off my sandals and run. Harder and faster.

The sound of boots pounding asphalt is all the inspiration I need to keep moving. He’s gaining on me. I run past my car and hit sand again. Over the first sand dune I see lights in the near distance. I’m heaving for breath and sweating like a pig. Fishermen frequent the beach this time of night. I keep running, hoping someone will be there.

“Get back here, bitch . . .”

Please. Please. Please. I almost collide with the back bumper of a Chevy Silverado. I drop to my knees and look up. There’s a dark figure coming around the side of the vehicle. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t see straight. My blood is pumping, my mind racing.

“What’s going on?” I hear a man ask.

“It’s none of your business.” The same asshole that ordered Franco to put his hand on the desk is pissed off at me now. I still don’t know what he looks like, and really don’t want to. I grimace.

Author Info

Raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, Violetta Rand spent her childhood reading, writing, and playing soccer. After meeting her husband in New England, they moved to Alaska where she studied environmental science and policy as an undergraduate before attending graduate school. Violetta then spent nearly a decade working as an environmental scientist, specializing in soil and water contamination and environmental assessments.

Violetta still lives in Anchorage, Alaska and spends her days writing evocative New Adult romance and historical romance. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, she enjoys time with her husband, pets, and friends. In her free time, she loves to hike, fish, and ride motorcycles and 4-wheelers.

Author Links:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Excerpt & Giveaway ~*~ Dance with my Heart by Meda White

Synopsis

Traumatized by her past, former police officer Jane Dillon gets a new start in Los Angeles as a bodyguard. If she weren’t so good at saving people, she might seek a new career. At least when she moonlights as a dance teacher, no one shoots at her. One impossible-to-please macho boss, one hunk of manly hot action hero, and one oversized Southern family set her on a course she never saw coming.

Former Navy SEAL, Danny Baker, has a lot to deal with between his dad’s health, his sister’s public breakup, and figuring out how to get rid of a female employee without getting a sexual discrimination suit filed against him. He’s always believed it to be his duty to protect women and children, but seeing the beautiful and lethal Jane in action turns his worldview upside down. He’d almost rather go back to the jungle, except the dance floors of L.A. and the woods of Georgia are providing plenty of excitement.

If they can overcome their differences, Danny's family, and Jane's past, they might find that they make the perfect team.

Excerpt:

“What about you?” Danny asked. “Who taught you to dance?”

“My grandfather, sort of,” Jane said. “He put me in karate and dancing when I started kindergarten. He didn’t know what to do with a little girl. I guess he tried to find balance for me.”

“Thanks to him, you can kick my ass and dance circles around me,” he said over his shoulder as he did a merengue step in place, while she literally danced around him. “I’ll have to thank him if I ever meet him.”

Before she returned to face him, she flared her fingers as she ran her hand across his back, feeling the taught muscles there. She tore her gaze from the fluid movement of his hips to see his eyes twinkling with laughter.

What had he been saying? Oh yeah, Grandfather.

Jane didn’t have the heart to tell him her grandfather had passed. Because it reminded her of how alone she was in the world, she didn’t like to think about it.

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Author Bio

Meda White writes sweet, sultry, and southern contemporary romance. She resides in the Southeastern United States with her husband and a very spoiled furbaby. When not writing, you might find her making music, shooting zombie targets, teaching yoga, or explaining the meaning of her unusual first name.

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New Release & Giveaway ~*~ Fat Louise byJamie Begley

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$25.00 Amazon eGift Card or

Digital Book Bundle including,

The Last Riders (Bks 1-3) and Sex Piston (Biker Bitches #1)

Fat Louise

Biker Bitches # 2 

Jamie Begley

Releasing Jan 23rd, 2015

Young Ink Press

She needed a hero; instead, she got Cade.

Cade was no hero. He was a nomad, a wanderer with no ties and he liked it that way. Hired out to save Fat Louise and her spoiled sister from a cartel run Mexican city was a risk he was willing to take, for the right price. With a certain gray eyed woman on his mind, he sets out to find her, fuck her and forget her. No harm, no foul. But it's all easier said than done when it comes to this plain Jane.

He expected a biker bitch who knew the rules; instead, he got Fat Louise.
Fat Louise wasn’t about to put her crew in danger. She had to learn to handle problems on her own, even if they included a six-foot biker she was forced to rely on, if she was going to rescue her sister. She never expected to see Cade again after she'd left Mexico, but all it takes is one night with him to prove that even a bitch’s heart can be broken.

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"I was born in a small town in Kentucky. My family began poor, but worked their way to owning a restaurant. My mother was one of the best cooks I have ever known, and she instilled in all her children the value of hard work, and education.

Taking after my mother, I've always love to cook, and became pretty good if I do say so myself. I love to experiment and my unfortunate family has suffered through many. They now have learned to steer clear of those dishes. I absolutely love the holidays and my family puts up with my zany decorations.

For now, my days are spent writing, writing, and writing. I have two children who both graduated this year from college. My daughter does my book covers, and my son just tries not to blush when someone asks him about my books.

Currently I am writing five series of books- The Last Riders, The VIP Room, Predators MC, Biker Bitches, and The Dark Souls.

All my books are written for one purpose- the enjoyment others find in them, and the expectations of my fans that inspire me to give it my best.”

Find Jamie Here

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Series Reading Order

Razer's Ride (The Last Riders, #1) 

Viper's Run (The Last Riders, #2) 

Knox's Stand (The Last Riders, #3) 

Sex Piston (Biker Bitches, #1) 

Teased (The VIP Room, #1) 

Tainted (The VIP Room, #2) 

Shade's Fall (The Last Riders, #4) 

King (The VIP Room, #3)

Cash's Fight (The Last Riders, #5)

Cover Reveal ~*~ Beneath This Ink by Meghan March

Meghan March
Beneath This Ink

Releasing: February 12^th, 2015

Blurb:

I’ve always known she was too good for me, but that never stopped me from wanting her.

And then I finally had her for one night.

A night I don’t remember.

I figured I’d blown my shot.

But now she’s walked back into my life, and this time, I have the upper hand. I want my second chance.

Will she be able to see the man beneath this ink?

Excerpt:

“Con, can you take this walk-in?” Delilah called from the front of the shop.

I pushed back from the desk and shoved my hair away from my face. It was too damn long. I needed to get it cut, but the girl I’d been going to for the last year had basically fallen onto my cock last week, and I wasn’t going to be letting her near my jugular with scissors any time soon. She wasn’t enamored of my, ‘I don’t go there twice unless there’s something worth going back for’ mentality. I probably could have phrased it a little nicer, but why give the girl false hope when I’d all but forgotten her as soon as I’d slid the condom off my dick? I didn’t have time for bullshit, and I didn’t like to be misunderstood when I spoke. So I was firmly in the ‘tell it how it is’ camp. Women didn’t seem to appreciate my particular brand of honesty. Mostly because it didn’t line up with what they wanted to hear. Not my problem.

I stood and headed for the door of the break room. Time to meet my newest walk-in.

If I had to tattoo one more “YOLO” on some idiot kid, I might hang up my tattoo gun and call it a day. Thoughts like that made me feel older than thirty-one.

I scanned the shop, looking for my next client. If I hadn’t learned a hell of a long time ago how to lock down my reactions, I might’ve missed a step.  

It was no kid.

And if she wanted YOLO tattooed on that body, it’d be a crime against nature. Anger flared within me at the sight of her. I might not remember the night we’d spent together, but I sure as hell remembered the morning after when I’d interrupted her escape from my bedroom. We’d thrown words like grenades, and it was a miracle we’d both walked away without bloodshed. Even with that memory vividly replaying in my head, I still had to tell my dick to calm the fuck down.

Vanessa Fucking Frost was still out of my league. Hell, out of my fucking universe. She’d been too good for me in high school, she’d been too good for me two years ago, and as sure as she was standing in my shop today, she was still too damn good for me. And I bet she’d be the first person to say it. I still couldn’t figure out how she’d ended up in my bed that night. Not because my bed didn’t see action with rich chicks—it saw plenty—but not like her. Classic elegance like Grace Kelly. Joy Leahy used to make me watch To Catch a Thief with her, and that’s exactly who Vanessa reminded me of.

Her platinum blond hair was twisted up into some fancy ass bun, and her tan skirt suit clung to her curves in all the right places. One perfectly manicured hand toyed with the gold bracelet on her wrist. My jeans tightened uncomfortably at the peek of a lacy pink bra from beneath her pink silk blouse.

My reaction to her pissed me off.

Do you know what it’s like to finally get something you’ve always wanted, but not remember a single fucking detail?

It ate away it me. The not knowing. Part of me wanted to tell her to get the hell out of my shop, but the other part of me wanted to drag her upstairs, strip her naked, and tie her to my bed so this time she couldn’t leave until I was damn good and ready. Which might be never. And that thought—that weakness—infuriated me.

“Never thought I’d see you darken my doorway again. What can I do for you, princess?” A mocking edge colored my words.

Her nervous twirling of her bracelet halted, and her blue eyes, several shades lighter and more vibrant than my own, met mine. Her pink tongue darted out over her perfectly plump bottom lip slicked with gloss. This nervous, off-balance look of hers raised all my red flags. I was used to the quiet, sexy-as-all-hell confidence that had always drawn me in. At least until she’d opened her mouth that infamous morning and told me what she’d really thought of me.

“I need a few moments of your time.”

I raised an eyebrow. Now that was a new development. She’d never sought me out.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, if you could spare me five minutes.”

Some of her words from that morning, which I might as well have tattooed on my skin, came back to me: Do this again? Are you crazy? I must have been insane to do this the first time. This can never happen again. And no one can ever know. No one.  

And now she wanted a favor?

“In this shop, the only way a woman gets my time is if she’s getting a tattoo, or is on her knees or her back.” I knew my answer was crude, but that was what she undoubtedly expected from me. And I hated to disappoint.

A flush of color hit her cheekbones, and I wondered for a brief second whether she was remembering what it had been like to be on her knees in front of me. Fuck. I wish I remembered. Then I could just fucking move on.

I waited for the clipped go to hell and an abrupt exit. But instead of turning and walking out, she surprised me.

“A tattoo it is, then.”

About Meghan March

Meghan March is a Michigan native who has spent a good portion of her life buried in a book. Case in point: she read the entire romance section of her small town public library by age fourteen. Even after growing up (sort of) and getting a law degree, she never lost her passion for a great story, twisty plot, epic romance, and amazing characters. When she’s not writing, she’s probably reading, target shooting, drooling over fast cars, or playing with her crazy mutt.

Website • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads

Excerpt & Giveaway ~*~ Grave Vengeance by Lori Sjoberg

Grave Vengeance
Grave # 3  

By: Lori Sjoberg

Releasing Jan 19^th, 2015

Lyrical Press

Blurb

Handsome and haunted, he's a reaper who prefers to work alone. But Fate has other plans for him and the sassy secret agent who shot him in another life—if their pasts don't catch up with them first.

Dmitri Stavitsky has never played well with others—a Soviet KGB spy in life turned reaper after death, his work of bringing souls to the other side is best done alone. But orders from the top soon place him alongside fellow reaper Gwen Peterson, the American counter intelligence agent who took his life so many years ago.

Now, as a ghost from Gwen's past resurfaces with the power to steal reapers' souls, the two have no choice but to set aside their differences and apprehend the rogue together. But their cross-country mission soon ignites feelings Dmitri thought he was no longer capable of—for the woman who helped destroy him. With an ancient force and a small army against them, he'll have to let go of old grudges or risk his future with Gwen...as Fate hangs dangerously in the balance.

 Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/01/grave-vengeance-grave-3-by-lori-sjoberg.html

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23404029-grave-vengeance?from_search=true

Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/114553-grave

Buy Links: 

Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo

Excerpt:

When he made a grab for the driver’s side door handle, she hit the gas and the car lurched forward a few feet.

“Uh-uh,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m driving.”

The vein in his forehead felt like it was going to burst as he stomped down the parking lot after her. “I’m not riding shotgun in my own car,” he snarled.

“You are tonight.”

He made another grab for the door handle and the car shot forward again. The thought of wringing her neck flashed through his mind, but then he thought of what Samuel would do to punish him and the notion lost its appeal.

“I could do this all night, but we’re running low on time. The big boss is expecting us in less than an hour.” The smile fell away from her face, revealing the no-nonsense bitch he’d known during his Cold War days. “Get in. The passenger side’s unlocked.”

Some men were nice to look at. Others, you couldn’t look away from. And then there was Dmitri Stavitsky.

He was taller than her, around six foot four, and had the powerful build of a gymnast. The shirt he wore did nothing to conceal his thick, corded arms or the broad expanse of his chest. His thighs strained against the confines of his jeans. He carried himself with an air of confidence that most men found intimidating and most women found irresistible. And even though Gwen despised him as much as he despised her, she had to admit he wore it well.

Gwen could feel his eyes moving over her while she drove, and she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. “What?”

The passing streetlights played over the planes of his face. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble. It made him look almost as dangerous as he was.

Almost.

Back in the day, he’d been one of the KGB’s top agents. For nearly a decade, he worked within the borders of the United States, stealing some of the country’s most valuable secrets. What he couldn’t steal he usually destroyed with calculated and ruthless efficiency. He killed defectors before they could spill their secrets as well as killing anyone else deemed an enemy of the Soviet Union. The full extent of his treachery was never determined; he’d taken those secrets to the grave.

“You cut your hair.” During the Cold War, he’d spoken with a flawless American accent to mask his true identity. The habit died when the Iron Curtain fell, and now his rich, deep voice contained a blend of both Russian and American, with the former growing more pronounced when he got pissed off. Like now.

“So nice of you to notice.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “It makes you look like a boy.” Bastard. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel. “Like I give a damn what you think.”

He laughed under his breath. “I think you do.” The smirk on his face vanished when she ground the gears. “Careful! It took me two days to rebuild the transmission.”

“Sorry.” Not really. She totally meant to do that. “Third’s a little sticky.” She held back a smile as she hooked a right onto Alafaya Trail.

Dmitri raked his hands through his short, dark hair. He was a few weeks past the time for a cut, and the ends curled around the nape of his neck. “Why are you here, Gwen?” Her name sounded like poison on his tongue.

Good question. Her current base of operations was on the opposite side of the country, along the American side of the border with Mexico. Samuel had been vague on the details when he contacted her late last night with orders to fly to Orlando for a special assignment. She hated the idea of working with Dmitri, but knew better than to refuse an order. After all, the Big Kahuna wasn’t known for his gentle demeanor. The quicker they got the job finished, the quicker they could return to their normal routines and forget the other existed.

“Samuel sent me,” she replied with a shrug, knowing he’d understand the way the boss operated.

He nodded, his expression grim. “And why did you steal my car?”

“Because I could.” And because she knew it would piss him off. It was the way things had always worked between them. They’d lost their humanity and become reapers together, and had been at each other’s throats ever since. Two Cold War relics, passing through the modern age. “You really need to install a better anti-theft system. Anybody with a screwdriver can hot-wire this thing in less than five minutes.” She’d done it in three.

She could have sworn he growled.

Author Info

Lori was a born a coal miner’s daughter. No wait, that’s not right.  Actually, she was born a carpenter’s daughter. Her mother was a housewife/homemaker/stay-at-home mom – whatever the politically correct term is these days.  Basically, she made sure Lori didn’t get into too much trouble, a task easier said than done.

Growing up the youngest of three girls, Lori never had control of the remote. (Not that she’s bitter about that. Really. Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not like she’s scarred for life or anything.) That meant a steady diet of science fiction and fantasy. Star Trek, Star Wars, Twilight Zone, Outer Limits – you name it, she watched it. It fed her imagination, and that came in handy when the hormones kicked in and she needed a creative excuse for being out past curfew.

After completing her first manuscript, she joined the Romance Writers of America and Central Florida Romance Writers. Now she exercises the analytical half of her brain at work, and the creative half writing paranormal romance. When she’s not doing either one of those, she’s usually spending time with her husband and children of the four-legged variety

Author Links:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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