31 July 2017

Educate Him by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle Book Blitz!

Educate Him 
by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle
Blurb:  
Young, but not so innocent, maybe she can teach an old professor some new tricks. 
Davis
I've always looked out for her, but she didn't know it. 
She came back into my life and made me want what I shouldn't have. 
Once she learns the truth, it will show her so much, but will she forgive me. 
Julia
When everyone else in my life let me down, he made sense to me. 
I returned with a plan in mind, but one night with him and plans changed. 
The professor can teach me because I'm ready to learn. 
Davis and Julia can't deny their attraction despite the secrets of their past. Will it bring them closer together or reveal how forbidden their love is and tear them further apart? 
Educate Him is an unconventional second chance romance with BDSM elements by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle. If you enjoy a sassy, confident young woman, a smooth talking sexy professor, and a connection that reminds you why you love romance, you'll love Sydney Aaliyah Michelle's latest stand-alone HEA romance. 
Pick up Educate Him and learn about Davis and Julia's scorching romance today!
Available on Amazon!
Add it to your TBR!

Excerpt #2: 
"What are you doing here, Jules?" 
"I wanted to see you. We haven't talking in a few days, and I just wanted to check in." I laid my hands flat against the books; they offered comfort. 
"You should have called." He stared off toward his desk. 
"Are you excepting company?" 
"No. It's been a long week; I'm tired and I have a headache." 
I stepped toward him, stood a few inches away, but he didn't drop his hands. 
"You should let me rub your temples." I reached up, and he grabbed my hand and stepped away.
"Don't." 
"You don't even want me to touch you?" I asked over the grapefruit size lump in my throat.
"Jules, please just go." 
"No. Why?" I asked. "I just want to be near you. Why is that so bad?" 
"It's not bad, but I just can't." 
"Why? What is it?" 
"You wouldn't understand." 
"Then make me understand." 
His eyes flashed, and he stepped toward me. I welcomed the warmth. His demeanor softened for a split second. I saw it. I felt it, but then it was gone, and he slumped back on the bookshelves with his chin to his chest. 
"I can't," he said. 
The words crushed me yet his tone scared me. I stood in front of him. He shuddered but didn't look at me. I bent down, so I could see his eyes. 
"Why?" I asked. "What are you afraid of?" 
He lifted his head. He reached up and ran the back of his hand down my tear-soaked face. 
I shuddered. 
"I'm afraid if I tell you, if I show you what I am and what I'm truly like, then you'll stop looking at me like that." His hand dropped to his side. "I'd really miss that." 
"How do I look at you?" I asked. I knew the answer but wanted to hear how he saw it. 
"Like I'm a king. You have the ultimate faith in me. I don't deserve it." His head dropped again. 
"Then earn it," I said, my tone stronger than I felt on the inside. Inside, I felt like I might crumble any minutes if he didn't touch me. 
"Oh, Julia ... How?" He raised his head. 
I spotted a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 
"Keep it simple. What do you need me to do?" 
His eyes grew dark as he approached me. I backed up into the bookshelf, and he placed his hands on either side of my head. 
"Do as I say?" 
I nodded. My heart raced, and I was sure he could hear it thumping like crazy. He placed his hand over my heart, and I drew in a sharp breath. His fingers tapped against my sternum. 
"Look at me." 
I turned my head up and stared into his eyes. His hands rose and surround my throat. He didn't squeeze, but panic set in. 
"I'm not going to hurt you, Jules." He pressed a little tighter. "I need you to trust me." 
"Okay." 
"Do you trust me?" 
I nodded. 
"Say it." 
"I trust—" Before I finished the sentence, his lips were on mine.
Author Bio: 
Sydney Aaliyah Michelle is a Contemporary Romance writer, a voracious reader, tattoo lover, and movie fanatic who hails from Texas. 
After surviving 5 1/2 years living in China, she had the courage to finally pursue her passion and become a writer. 
She identifies the sci-fi action flick "The Matrix" as the best representation of her life in the past. She is now blessed to be awake and doing what she loves. 
She can recite the entire script from the 80's teen comedy/drama "The Breakfast Club" and loves any and everything associated with the Avengers Movie, especially Tony Stark. 
When it come to books, Sydney reads different genres, but some of her favorite writers are Stephen King, Alex J. Cavanaugh, J.A Huss, M. Never & Emily Bronte. Under the Dome, The Great Gatsby & Wuthering Heights are her favorite books.
Email Sydney at sydney@sydneyamichelle.com.
Connect Online: 
Amazon Author Central - https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00KKYD5US
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One Hell Of A Ride by Ju Ephraime Book Blitz!

One Hell Of A Ride
by Ju Ephraime
Blurb:
When tough-as-they-come Joe Cariello appears on her doorstep claiming he used to know her grandfather, Cassie Sorrento is skeptical. To begin with, her grandfather was twice, if not three times, Joe’s age. Second, Joe appears to be a drifter, going where the wind blows him, and third, he’s too damn ruggedly good looking for her peace of mind.
Joe thinks he’s hit pay dirt when he first sees Cassie standing in the doorway of his old friend’s cabin. He has no idea his friend has been murdered and he’ll be viewed as the most likely suspect. He’s a drifter, not a killer. Now he’s determined to find out what happened to his old friend, and if it means he has to work alongside Cassie, he’ll welcome it. Now he’s wondering, are his drifting days over, and more importantly, can he convince Cassie that they are? Joe realizes he’ll give up drifting in a lickety-split if he can have Cassie just for one night.

Buy Links:


Snippet:
“Don’t you think it’s time that you and I had a little chat?” he said, the huskiness of his voice making it sound more gravelly than normal.

“What’re you doing? Give me my hat,” was all she said as she looked up into the intense obsidian eyes that were staring into her face.

Time seemed to stand still as Joe focused on Cas’ eyes. Enormous, tilted like a cat’s, light steel gray with dark orbs, unusual and mesmerizing. He felt their impact like a kick in the gut. He had envisioned her eyes all different colors, but never once had he imagined the light steel gray that was currently looking up at him. He had to admit; they suited her. They were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. They almost seemed to glow; it put him in mind of quicksilver. That was how bright and silvery gray they were. Joe felt as if he were drowning in her inquiring gaze. Abruptly his mouth covered hers. He could tell he had taken her by surprise because her lips were apart, and he took the opportunity to sweep in and taste her. God! The taste of her! It was as he’d imagined and more. He shuddered heavily and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth again and again. He wanted to devour her.


Author Bio:
She is an eternal optimist and an insatiable reader/writer, especially of high heat romance. She writes in several genres; however, her favorite is contemporary romance. She loves reading historical romances, but doesn't know if she'd write one. (Take that back, she's since written two and this is her third one). She earned her last degree from NEU in Boston. She loves writing children’s books, for fun and relaxation. She finds it's easy to slip back into her childhood, where she takes the time to play.
xoxo


Social Media Links:
Good Reads -https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4981235.Ju_Ephraime
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30 July 2017

Heart of Stone by James Fant Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway!



Crime Fiction
Date Published: 7/4/2017

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Are the deacons of Shalom Bethel invincible? Legend has it that in the 1940’s, they came out of a gunfight with holes in their clothes but not their skin. Bullets bounced off of them. They walked through buckshots like water. That story is passed down by every deacon. The legend of Stephen Stone. That legend is about to be tested.

On the heels of a nightclub triple murder, a mysterious blizzard hits Shalom, a city normally warm year round. The blizzard brings with it bitter memories and ghosts Deacon Oak East thought were long gone: his prior drug conviction, his on and off relationship with his wife, the gruesome murder of his father and the role he played in it. But it's not just the past that haunts him. In the present, a homicide detective wants him and the deacons for the nightclub murders. And a gangster named Cap Morgan wants revenge. The snow is falling. But soon, it will be raining bullets. Is the legend true? Are the deacons of Shalom Bethel bulletproof?
Exerpt

The early evening air cooled Oak’s skin and caused it to tighten. The sensation was odd, like someone pinching him but all over. Bringing his skin cells closer together? The thought was crazy and Oak traveled back to a biology class in which the teacher was showing a video on mitosis. Cells were dividing, giving rise to two daughter cells with the same number of chromosomes. There were different phases. One in particular where the chromatin seemed to span the two fused cellular bodies. So cool. That’s not what was happening with Oak’s skin. It was tightening...stiffening. And how would that look under a microscope?
He shook those thoughts, jogged up to the duplex and slapped the knocker three times. The door opened and he saw Moody Norco. The man who hated his guts.
“Come on in,” Moody said. “You want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m working. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Getting over a cold.”
“No. I mean what’s up?”
“You mean the money?”
“I always mean the money when I ask that question.”
Moody was devious and dangerous. Instead of repelling Oak, this fact attracted him. Pulled him to the man like gravity. An invisible yet powerful force that he couldn’t escape.
He carried the weight of the world into Moody’s apartment that evening. His uncle had kicked him out the house. He had lost the women he loved. And then there was that nagging guilt, the thought that God would never forgive him for what he had done eight years before. Life had burdened him. Perhaps this devious dude was just dangerous enough to remove that burden.
Oak snapped his fingers in Moody’s face. “Come on, man, I don’t have all day.”
“I’m going to warn you right now,” Moody said, “it’s been slow.” He motioned to a half-naked woman who scampered into the back room.
“I don’t care how slow it’s been. You’re delinquent yet again. Frankly, I’m fed up with it.”
Moody’s eyes narrowed.  He tightened his fist but nothing more.
“Tell your girl to hurry up with the money,” Oak said.
“C’mon. Let me fix you some Cognac. I know you like that Yack! With Coke, right?”
“Man, you’re trying my patience!” Oak pushed Moody out of the way and stomped into the bedroom, where he figured the woman was counting the money. But there was no woman. Instead, there was an open window, curtains dancing in the breeze and two guys holding sawed off shot guns that were aimed at Oak’s chest.
“You sure you don’t want something to drink?” Moody asked again with a smile as he brandished a silver Saturday Night Special.
“Truth be told,” he said, his pistol pointed at Oak, “I hate you! Why did you all of a sudden get to be boss of the streets? You haven’t put in work. You haven’t done dirt. And what’s worse, if war comes, you’d never be man enough to squeeze a trigger. You’re not a boss!” Moody and his two gunmen backed Oak into the living room. He asked, “You’re not gonna beg for your life?”
“Not at all,” Oak replied.
“Well, I gotta say I’m disappointed.”
Oak shrugged. Sighed. “Well I’ve seen too much evil. Been the cause of too much pain. Being murdered like this is a fitting end.”
“You’re not gonna cry or try to make a deal?”
“Nah. If you’re gonna shoot me, get it over with already.”
Moody chuckled. Smiled. Then his lips straitened. “This wasn’t what I imagined would happen. In my mind, I saw you sniveling, snot dripping over your lips as you begged for your life. Forget about the money. Just don’t kill me, Moody! I would demand that you call me the king. You are the king!  Then, I’d make you get down on your knees, your hands folded in prayer and praise. But...”
Oak jumped at Moody like he was going to throw a punch. Moody flinched. His boys flinched too.
“Unbelievable,” Oak laughed. Then he screamed, “Do it!”
Shot guns lifted. Forestocks pumped. Snub nose hammer pulled back. An engine roared and the hood of a SUV came crashing through sheetrock and plaster. It was Sampson, Oak’s bodyguard. Crashing through the wall. Shooting through the windshield.
Shots blazed from every direction. Glass shattered. Sampson took one in his shoulder but served several to Moody and his boys. As they hit the floor, Sampson yelled, “Lay down and stay down!”
“O!” he screamed as he grunted his way towards him. “O.E.!”
“What?!”
“Are you wearing a vest?”
“Huh?”
He patted Oak’s chest and back. “Oh my goodness!” he said. “You’re not wearing a vest!”
Oak looked at Sampson and saw that he was bleeding heavily. He took off his shirt and pressed it against his wounded shoulder. He said, “We gotta get you outta here.” Then he helped Sampson to the passenger side of the SUV, got in the driver’s seat, and slowly backed the out of the rubble.
As he drove to Shalom Memorial Hospital, images of the shootout replayed in his head. The ear splitting pops and mind numbing explosions. He racked his brain for a reason why he was still breathing.
He said, “I’m sorry, Sampson.  I should have been the one to get shot back there.”
“You did get shot.”
“What?”
His bodyguard took a deep breath. Winced in pain. “They lit you up, man. You were getting popped left and right.”
“Sampson,” Oak smiled warily, “were you smoking dope while I was in the apartment?”
“I’m serious!” Sampson screamed. “Bullets just bounced off of you. At first I thought it was the adrenaline playing tricks on my mind. But nah. You were just walking through those bullets. I know what I saw.”



About the Author


James Fant is an award winning author who lives in Charleston, SC with his lovely wife and two hilarious children. He received a degree in biology from College of Charleston and a master’s in business administration from Charleston Southern University. His love for literature was forged by the works of Eric Jerome Dickey, Walter Mosley, and Stephen King. He also finds inspiration from screenwriters Shonda Rhimes, Aaron Sorkin and Kurt Sutter. Literarily, James has always been drawn to intelligent yet imperfect characters and he writes novels with them in mind.
Contact Links

Twitter: @jamesfantjr

Purchase Links



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Practicing Normal by Cara Sue Achterberg Book Tour!



Practicing NormalPracticing Normal by Cara Sue Achterberg on Tour June 1 - July 31, 2017

 
Book Details
Genre: Women's Fiction
Published by: The Story Plant
Publication Date: June 6th 2017
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 1611882443 (ISBN13: 9781611882445)

Get Your Copy of Practicing Normal by Cara Sue Achterberg on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads!

Synopsis:

The houses in Pine Estates are beautiful McMansions filled with high-achieving parents, children on the fast track to top colleges, all of the comforts of modern living, and the best security systems money can buy. Welcome to normal upper-middle-class suburbia.
The Turners know in their hearts that they're anything but normal. Jenna is a high-schooler dressed in black who is fascinated with breaking into her neighbors' homes, security systems be damned. Everett genuinely believes he loves his wife . . . he just loves having a continuing stream of mistresses more. JT is a genius kid with Asperger's who moves from one obsession to the next. And Kate tries to manage her family, manage her mother (who lives down the street), and avoid wondering why her life is passing her by.
And now everything is changing for them. Jenna suddenly finds herself in a boy-next-door romance she never could have predicted. Everett's secrets are beginning to unravel on him. JT is getting his first taste of success at navigating the world. And Kate is facing truths about her husband, her mother, and her father that she might have preferred not to face.
Life on Pine Road has never been more challenging for the Turners. That's what happens when you're practicing normal.
Combining her trademark combination of wit, insight, and tremendous empathy for her characters, Cara Sue Achterberg has written a novel that is at once familiar and startlingly fresh.

Kudos:

"Does facing the truth beat living a lie? In PRACTICING NORMAL, Cara Sue Achterberg has given us a smart story that is both a window and a mirror, about the extraordinary pain ― and the occasional gifts ― of an ordinary life."
– Jacquelyn Mitchard, New York Times bestselling author of THE DEEP END OF THE OCEAN
"What does it really mean to have a normal life? Achterberg's stunning new novel explores how a family can fracture just trying to survive, and how what makes us different is also what can make us most divine." – Caroline Leavitt, author of CRUEL BEAUTIFUL WORLD and the New York Times bestsellers PICTURES OF YOU and IS THIS TOMORROW
"PRACTICING NORMAL takes a deep dive into the dysfunctional dynamics of a 'picture perfect family.' A compelling story about the beautiful humanity in the most ordinary of lives: from first love to a marriage on the downward slide to an unexpected family tragedy. Achterberg handles each thread with tender care and we can't help but root for every member of the Turner family."
– Kate Moretti, New York Times bestselling author of THE VANISHING YEAR

Read an excerpt:

Waving to Jenna as she waits at the bus stop, all I can think is, Please let her go to school today and stay in school all day. Jenna is such a smart girl; I don’t understand why she doesn’t apply herself to her studies. She could be anything. A doctor, even. I was a nurse, but Jenna is smarter than me. Of course, that was twenty years ago. Before I married Everett. Before Jenna and JT were born. Before we ever lived in Pine Estates.
I was the one who chose the house. Everett thought it was pretentious, and it was. All the houses on our end of Pine Road were pretentious. But it was the nineties. Everyone was building McMansions and taking out ridiculous loans to pay for them. Everett had just left his job as a police officer for the job at FABSO (Family and Business Security Options).
We needed to start a new life. We celebrated the new job and didn’t talk about the fact that things could have turned out very differently if his captain had chosen to bring charges against him. Instead, he recommended Everett for the job at FABSO and made it clear Everett would be wise to take it.
I remember lying in bed holding Everett the day he turned in his gun and his badge. He was devastated. Being a cop had been Everett’s dream since childhood. “All I’ve ever wanted to be is a cop. If I can’t be a cop, who am I?”
“You’re a father and a husband. That’s so much more,” I told him. He didn’t say anything about it again. He got to work. He made something of FABSO. And he’s tried so hard to be a good dad.
I don’t remember much about my own dad, and whenever I asked my mother she would say, “There’s nothing to remember about that louse except that he was a louse.” When I pressed her later, after I’d grown up, she’d said, “It doesn’t matter now. He didn’t want to be with us enough to stay.”
All that bitterness can’t hide the fact that when my father left, he apparently took my mother’s heart. She’s spent the rest of her life alone. Except for me. And Evelyn. Although, once Evelyn left home, she didn’t come around much. These days she visits Mama on Saturdays, unless she has something more pressing to do, which is most weeks. Mama annoys her. I suppose I do too. We don’t fit into Evelyn’s shiny, perfect life.
When I first met Everett and told Mama about him, she was skeptical. “A cop?”
I told her how he’d wanted to be a cop since he was a little boy, the same way I always wanted to be a nurse. I gushed about how he told me I was beautiful and how he said he’d been certain about us the first time he saw me. Mama said, “Men will say whatever it takes, Kate. When will you realize that?” But I knew she was wrong about Everett.
I met Everett in the ER. I was treating a patient who was high on coke or meth or God knows what. He was lean and riddled with track marks, his strength coming from whatever drug was flooding his body. I didn’t recognize him as one of our regulars—the ones who showed up like clockwork in search of pain meds. This guy was out of his mind and covered in his own blood from where he’d scratched his thin skin. Another nurse helped me attempt to strap him to the gurney with the Velcro holds, but he was out of his mind and reached for the needle I was about to use to sedate him. Everett was nearby at the desk filling out forms and heard me yell. In just moments, he wrestled the junkie to the ground and held him still as I plunged the needle in. When the man finally collapsed, Everett lifted him back onto the gurney and secured him.
When he turned and looked at me with his green eyes, the same eyes Jenna has, I knew I would marry him. I told him that on our second date. He laughed. I’ve always loved his laugh.
When Everett started at FABSO, he made nearly twice the salary he’d made as a cop. I didn’t need to work any longer. It was our chance. I would stay home and take care of our happy family in our beautiful house in Pine Estates. It was our new start. I thought we belonged there.
When I open the door to Mama’s house, she’s already calling for me. She may be losing her mind, but her hearing hasn’t deteriorated one bit.
“You’re late!” she scolds.
“Sorry, JT had a hard time picking out a shirt to wear today.”
“He’s not a baby! I don’t know why you put up with it.”
I smile at her. No sense taking the bait. “You’re right, Mama.”
“You’ve always been so indecisive. I swear if I didn’t tell you what to do next, you’d stand there like a statue.”
“Good thing you’re so good at telling me what to do,” I mutter as I go to prepare her tea.
Mama wasn’t always like this. When Evelyn and I were little, she was our whole world. She baked homemade cakes for our birthdays, and elaborately decorated them with whatever we were currently obsessing over—Tinker Bell, Barbies, guitars, or, for Evelyn, a computer one year, and the scales of justice the year she announced she was going to be a judge when she grew up.
Mama read to us every night. I remember snuggling into the crook of her arm, even when I was too old to be doing it. Evelyn would be on her other side and our hands would meet on Mama’s flat tummy. I loved the stories with a happy ending, but Evelyn demanded that she read “real books.” She wanted mysteries and thrillers instead of the children’s books Mama picked out at the library. So Mama began to read Nancy Drew, but Evelyn went to the adult aisle and picked out John Grisham, Tom Clancy, and Stephen King. Mama tried to read them to us. She’d come to a part that she felt was too racy for us and she’d hum while she skimmed ahead til she found a more appropriate section before beginning to read again. This drove Evelyn nuts. She’d pout and complain, eventually stomping off. Mama would return the books to the library unread, but it wasn’t long before Evelyn was old enough to have her own library card and checked them out for herself.
In the mornings, Mama would braid our hair, pack our lunches with tiny handwritten notes, and walk us to the bus stop for more years than was appropriate. When Evelyn reached high school, she demanded that Mama stop, but she still followed us with her car and waited to be certain we got on the bus safely.
Now that I’m a mom, I know it couldn’t have been easy raising us alone. As she’s gotten older, she’s gotten difficult. But I put up with her increasing number of quirks because I feel I owe her. Evelyn doesn’t see it that way, but then again Evelyn doesn’t feel she owes anybody anything.
“Here you go.” I hand Mama the bitter Earl Grey tea she likes over-steeped with no sweetener.
“I’ve already missed Phillip,” she says as I help her out the door to the back porch. She spends most mornings there, talking to the birds that frequent her multiple bird feeders.
“Who’s Phillip?” I ask, mostly to make conversation. She loves to talk about the birds.
The look she gives me is just like the one JT gives me when my random “Wow” comes at the wrong time in one of his lengthy soliloquies on his current obsession. “Phillip is the male cardinal who has begun stopping by each morning. He comes over the fence from the southeast. He’s usually here before the chickadees move in and take over the birdbath.”
I look at the crowd of birds fighting over the seed at the feeder. They all look the same to me. “I’ve got to take care of a few things at home after I run JT to school; I’ll be back at lunchtime.”
“Always leaving me!” she complains. “You can’t even spend five minutes with your mother.”
I’d protest, but there’s no point. She sees things the way she needs to see them. Rewriting history is one of her specialties. I’ve been listening to her do it all my life. When Everett and I took the kids to the beach last summer, she said, “Must be nice! I’ve never had a vacation.” Yet, I remember several summers when Mama took Evelyn and me to the same beach we were headed to. Or when I graduated from nursing school, Mama said, “I’ve always said you’d make a fine nurse,” when, in reality, she’d been telling me for years that I could never be a nurse because I was so weak at chemistry. She thought I should have considered something in business—like being a secretary. She’s been spinning her stories of Evelyn’s escapades, my mistakes, and my father’s general louse-likeness for so long, she probably believes them as gospel truth. They are, I suppose, at least to her mind.
I hurry home, hoping JT has finally decided on a shirt for school. We’re going to be late if we have to argue about it.
Excerpt from Practicing Normal by Cara Sue Achterberg. Copyright © 2017 by Cara Sue Achterberg. Reproduced with permission from The Story Plant. All rights reserved.
Cara Sue Achterberg

Author Bio:

Cara Sue Achterberg is a writer and blogger who lives in New Freedom, PA with her family and an embarrassing number of animals. Her first novel, I’m Not Her, was a national bestseller, as was her second, Girls’ Weekend. Cara’s nonfiction book, Live Intentionally, is a guide to the organic life filled with ideas, recipes, and inspiration for liv- ing a more intentional life. Cara is a prolific blogger, occasional cowgirl, and busy mom whose essays and articles have been published in numerous anthologies, magazines, and websites. Links to her blogs, news about upcoming publications, and pictures of her foster dogs can be found at CaraWrites.com.
CaraWrites.com | Cara Sue Achterberg on Twitter | Cara Sue Achterberg on Facebook

Tour Host Participants:

Stop by these awesome hosts for reviews, guest posts, interviews, & more giveaways!  
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Providence Book Promotions for Cara Sue Achterberg and The Story Plant. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card and 5 winners of one (1) eBook copy of Girls' Weekend by Cara Sue Achterberg. The giveaway begins on June 1, 2017 and runs through August 3, 2017. Void where prohibited by law.
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