22 August 2019

Cover Reveal for Capturing the Heart of A Rock Star by Nomi Summers!


Cover Reveal for CAPTURING THE HEART OF THE ROCK STAR 
 by Nomi Summers
Brought to you by Forever Write PR

We are excited to share the cover for Nomi Summers’
CAPTURING THE HEART OF THE ROCK STAR.
Keep scrolling to take a closer look at the cover, and don’t forget to
add
CAPTURING THE HEART OF THE ROCK STAR to your Goodreads TBR
shelf or even pre-order!







Add to Goodreads Now!



Even rock stars are haunted by the one 
that got away...
Chasing music and freedom, Shane Knox left 
Arbor Shores nine years ago and never looked 
back... until now. With his best friend, Dax, 
getting married, Shane is coming home to face
 his past as well as Avery, the girl he left 
behind. 

The second he lays eyes on her, all of his 
long suppressed feelings come rushing back 
in a tidal wave of regret. For him, it was never 
truly over. But is it too late for a second chance? 

Despite being bitter over Shane’s abrupt exit,
 Avery has bigger problems on her hands than 
drama with her ex. Her family’s hotel, Arbor 
Shores Resort, is struggling. Financial 
difficulties have landed the business in prime position for a real estate buyout, 
which would destroy all Avery and her family have built. 

Putting his career on the line, Shane comes up with a plan that could 
save the resort. But will it be enough to redeem himself with Avery? 

Or is it time for him to leave Arbor Shores for good?


Pre-Order on Amazon Today!



Author Nomi Summers: 

Nomi Summers is a clean contemporary romance author with a
flair for taming bad boy heroes readers swoon over.

When she’s not dreaming up her next sweet small-town
romance, you’ll find her at the beach devouring the latest
new release on her Kindle. Her other guilty pleasures include
getting lost in mindless reality TV and spending far too much
time talking to her dogs, as she’s convinced they understand
every other word!

Nomi’s living her own “happily ever after” with her loving
husband and their two fur babies in Tampa Bay, Florida.
However, a piece of her heart will always belong in Michigan
where she’s originally from--the inspiration for the settings
in her novels. 


This blogger event is brought to you by Forever Write PR.
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The Ornery Gene by Warren C. Embree Book Tour and Giveaway!

The Ornery Gene by Warren C. Embree Banner

The Ornery Gene by Warren C EmbreeThe Ornery Gene

by Warren C. Embree

on Tour August 1-31, 2019

Synopsis:


When itinerant ranch hand Buck Ellison took a job with Sarah Watkins at her ranch in the Sandhills of Nebraska, he thought he had found the place where he could park his pickup, leave the past behind, and never move again.

On a rainy July night, a dead body at the south end of Sarah’s ranch forces him to become a reluctant detective, digging into the business of cattle breeding for rodeos and digging up events from his past that are linked to the circumstances surrounding the murder of Sam Danielson.

Working with his boss Sarah, her nephew Travis Martin, and the cook Diane Gibbons, Buck unmasks the murderer, but at the cost of learning the reality of past events that he chooses to keep to himself.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Amateur Sleuth
Published by: Down and Out Books
Publication Date: April 27, 2019
Number of Pages: 216
ISBN: 1643960121 (978-1643960128)
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Down & Out Books

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE
Wednesday, 9:15 p.m.
Sam Danielson slowed his pickup to a stop beside an old cattle chute, switched off the engine, rolled the window all the way down, and listened. He absentmindedly counted the cricket chirps for ten seconds, added forty to the number of chirps and calculated it to be about sixty-five degrees or so outside. A trick his dad had taught him. It was a little chilly for July in this part of the hills, but he had heard the low rumbling of thunder on the drive out. It smelled like rain; there was a storm moving from the northeast that was cooling things down. There could even be some ice in it. He checked his watch: nine-fifteen. Just past twilight. He opened the pickup door and took a deep breath. He reached over, grabbed the flashlight from the glove box, and slid out of the driver’s seat onto the soft sand.
Off in the distance, he heard a mama cow lowing. This was the life he had chosen, and he had never looked back. It hadn’t been easy working for, and then with, his dad. They had gone back and forth on the best way to select the bulls and broncos they supplied for “rough stock” events at the rodeos in the Sandhills of western Nebraska. There was only one way for Dad. “You don’t have the feel for how much the bull don’t want rode,” his dad would say. But Sam had gone to school and studied twentieth-century methods of livestock rearing. For his dad it was a way of life; for Sam it was a business. Sam liked the numbers. He liked to narrow the odds by more than just a feeling. He had tried to show his dad the value in breeding techniques and genetic tracking in estimating the probability that a particular bull would do well in the arena. His dad would just laugh it off. “Show me the ornery gene,” his dad would laugh. “I’ll have five bulls picked before you decide on one.” But Sam knew his would be a better one than the five. He could prove the temperament of a bull before anyone tried to ride it. He had never convinced his dad. The ornery gene had been elusive, but not the genetic makeup of the ornery bulls. He had been right, and he had a genetically identifiable line of stock to prove it.
During his travels from his ranch outside of Laramie, Wyoming, Sam had been made aware of a genetic curiosity in one of the cattle he purchased in Colorado in the spring. Being off in the records would end up being off in the genetic makeup of the calves. There never was just one gene that made the difference. It was a matter of multiple generations. He had traced the lines that looked the most promising, and closely followed the leaders in the industry. Discovering that curiosity had led him into this part of the Sandhills of Nebraska. Talking about it at the bar had got him into an argument with the old cowboy, and listening to the old man had brought him to this particular spot.
“You’ll find what you’re looking for out there,” the old cowboy had said. “Then you’ll know I was telling you the truth.” Danielson switched the flashlight on and scanned the area around the cattle chute. He had let himself be convinced that the old man knew a thing or two about cattle breeding. What had surprised Danielson most was that the old man had known about the science behind modern breeding at all. The old cowboy looked more like he’d been “rode hard and put up wet” as his dad would have said: a man who had spent a hard life out in the sun and the rain and the snow. Danielson expected someone like that to know less about biogenetics and more about old school solutions. Like his dad.
The excitement the old cowboy had shown assured Danielson it would be worth his time to find out if he was headed in the right direction. But as he looked around the area, all he saw was a dump site for old batteries, tires, cook stoves, windmill parts, cans, bed springs, and used up corral panels. He saw nothing that would explain the old cowboy’s intensity. Now he was more curious to find out how the old cowboy would explain the genetic anomaly that he was so passionate about. It was one of those things his dad would say shouldn’t make a whole lot of difference in his deciding on a bull. It probably wasn’t all that important to breeders either. But he was curious, and keeping careful records was important to the integrity of breeding livestock. It was a necessary component in the breeding business and his business. He was hoping he could find some answers out here as he tried to piece together the puzzle. He was determined to take some time to track it down to the source and maybe be able to verify when and where the mistake was made.
He had tried to be low-key when he was asking questions, but the speed at which the old cowboy had raised his hackles this afternoon showed Danielson just how hard that was going to be. He had touched the wrong nerve on the first try. He wasn’t sure whether he had asked the wrong question or his question had been taken the wrong way. It took a couple of beers and a good bit of time getting the old man calmed down. When it finally got friendly again, the old cowboy had told him about the spot out here in the hills. He gave directions and said he’d meet him out there around nine that evening.
As he waited for the old cowboy to show up, Danielson kicked at a broken pitman, picked it up, and used it to move around some cans at the edge of the dump site. He wasn’t terribly interested in getting bitten by a rattlesnake or a rat. It was a half-hearted effort. He sniffed the air again and caught the scent of pine and cedar trees this time. The hills hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid except the cedar trees. They were becoming a weed out in the hills. He shoved a wooden box with the pitman, then threw the stick of wood back into the pile. It was altogether possible that the old cowboy had sent him out on a snipe hunt. It just as well be. There was nothing he’d seen so far that was tied to the cattle breeding. If it were here, it wasn’t something obvious. What galled him was that he could be looking right at it and still not see it. For that matter, there could be nothing to it.
A loud clap of thunder caused Danielson to look up at the sky. In the southwest the clouds were fast turning to an ugly black. He saw the lightning streak across the sky and started counting. He reached fifty-two and he heard the thunder again. The storm was only about ten miles away. He didn’t want to get caught in the storm, and he hadn’t found anything yet. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone on a wild goose chase.
He walked over to the rear of the pickup, pulled out a can of chewing tobacco from his back pocket, and stuffed a pinch in the back of his cheek. He put the can back in his pocket and picked up an old spur that was in the pickup box. He turned it over in his hand as he walked over to the chute—just an old spur. The old cowboy had given it to him, along with some old rodeo flyers, claiming he’d known Danielson’s dad and had got it from him. His dad had never been a bull rider, so the spur didn’t belong to him. He didn’t know whether someone had given it to his dad or his dad had simply found it tearing down after one of the rodeos they had supplied the bulls and broncs for. It reminded him that he needed to go through his dad’s things, a clutter of boxes, something he’d put off for ten years after his dad died. He tossed the spur toward the pickup box but hit the fender instead, bouncing the spur at an odd angle forward of the pickup. He walked over toward the cattle chute and battery and pointed his flashlight in the direction the spur had bounced.
Danielson caught the flash of lightning in the corner of his eye, heard a pop from behind him, then felt a sledgehammer hit him in the middle of the back. The strength drained out of his legs. He felt a sharp pain spring out from where the hammer had hit that seemed to rush through his torso. His legs gave out and he hit the ground, knees first, and then fell on his face. The pain was now a hot, burning sensation from the place where the hammer had hit and his back felt wet. He thought he had been struck with lightning, cursing himself for miscalculating the distance of the storm. He tried to use his arms to push himself up, but he couldn’t gather the strength. He dropped back down. He could feel that his back was soaked, but it hadn’t started raining yet.
From off to his right, he heard something moving cans around. It wasn’t the wind. It was deliberate. No animal would do that either. A few moments later, he felt someone kick his side. He grunted involuntarily, and then tried to roll over. His legs were a dead weight. He twisted his face away from the pickup, but couldn’t see anything. “He shot me,” he whispered. He tried to raise himself with his arms, but was light-headed now. I can’t believe he shot me. A few moments later rain poured from the clouds, diluting the blood from his back and mingling it with the sand.
***
Excerpt from The Ornery Gene by Warren C. Embree. Copyright © 2019 by Warren C. Embree. Reproduced with permission from Warren C. Embree. All rights reserved.


 Author Bio:
Warren C Embree
WARREN EMBREE and his wife grew up in the Sandhills of Nebraska. He did both farm work and ranch work during those years, and he still keeps track of what goes on in the hills. After leaving the area, he pursued an academic career in English, Classical Languages, and Divinity. He lectured at a couple of institutions and preached at a few churches, and he now works in Lincoln as a data analyst for the University of Nebraska. His knowledge and love of the unique culture of the Sandhills, his education in languages and literature, and his analytical skills contribute to his story telling. He and his wife currently live in Nebraska and have 3 grown children.

Catch Up With Warren Embree On:
warrenembree.com, Goodreads, & Facebook!

Tour Participants:
Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!

 Enter To Win!This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Warren C. Embree. There will be 2 winners of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card each. The giveaway begins on August 1, 2019 and runs through September 2, 2019. Void where prohibited.


 


Vindicated by Misty Walker Blitz and Giveaway!





Vindicated
by Misty Walker 
Publication Date: August 22, 2019 
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Purchase: 


HE WAS GUILTY Dustin is a convicted murderer. He’s mournful, bitter, drowning in a sea of self-pity with nothing left to lose. The church has sent me to bring him into the fold. Bound by my namesake, Saint Odilia, I should be defending my spirituality and morality with my life. It only took a few letters to change everything. HE FOUND INNOCENCE Odilia saved my life and gave me her heart. But I’m still mournful, bitter and drowning in self-pity. Only now I have something to lose… her. Gaining my freedom was supposed to be the hard part, but it’s going to take much more for me to be worthy of a saint. LOVE WILL BE FREED

About Misty Walker

Misty Walker has been writing stories, articles, and poems since junior high. Preferring to stay behind the scenes until now, she has been an avid romance reader, a blogger, and an audiobook proofer for the last fifteen years. Growing up in a nomadic household, Misty has lived all up and down the western USA, but recently settled in Reno, Nevada. Misty is a mom to two kids who are slowly trying to kill her, but they are cute, so she will keep them. She just celebrated her sixteen-year anniversary with her computer geek husband and has two dogs, Dunkin and Dutch, that are her constant companions while she happily reads and writes her life away.

Release Tour for UNBREAK ME by Michelle Hazen!

Release Tour for UNBREAK ME
by Michelle Hazen
Brought to you by Forever Write PR
Find out what a big city musician and a lonely cowgirl have in
common in Michelle Hazen’s UNBREAK ME from Berkley Publishing.
Andra Lawler must decide if she’s brave enough to leave the shelter
of her family’s ranch
for an uncertain future with Haitian-Creole cowboy, LJ Delisle. Fans of
Emily Giffin and Colleen Hoover will devour this sweet, heartwrenching
yet hopeful diverse romance. 


UNBREAK ME was named one of Amazon's Best Books of the month of
August and was the winner of RWA’s Lonestar Award. 


“A seductive, slow-burn romance brimming with tenderness, hope,
and transformation.”—Tammara Webber, New York Times
bestselling author


“Hazen writes with grace and compassion about life after trauma,
smoothly addressing racism, sexual assault, and large-scale disasters
without pat answers or platitudes.
This is a sure tear-jerker for any romance fan.”
—STARRED Publisher’s Weekly review


What could two troubled souls from different walks of
life have in common? Maybe everything.
Andra Lawler lives isolated at her family’s horse ranch, imprisoned
by the memories of an assault in college. When she needs help
training her foals, she hires a Haitian-Creole cowboy from
New Orleans with a laugh as big as the Montana sky.
LJ Delisle can’t stand the idea that Andra might be lonely—or
eating frozen TV dinners. He bakes his way into her kitchen with
a lemon velvet cake, and offers her cooking lessons that set them
on the road to romance. But even their love can’t escape the
shadow of what they've been through. Despite their growing
friendship and his gentle rapport with the horses, LJ is still an
outsider facing small-town suspicions. Before they can work
through their issues, LJ is called home by a family emergency.
In the centuries-old, raggedly rebuilt streets of New Orleans,
he must confront memories of  Hurricane Katrina and
familiar discrimination. And Andra must decide if she’s brave
enough to leave the shelter of the ranch for an uncertain
future with LJ.

Read Now: Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo  

Add to Goodreads Now!
Excerpt from Unbreak Me
Copyright @ Michelle Hazen 2019


Andra opened her front door, and the frown froze on her face as LJ’s
shoulders filled the doorframe.
He was holding . . . a cake?
“Um, hi,” she managed.
Oh crap, she’d promised to talk to him about the horses.
“Look, I’m sorry. I know I said I’d come talk to you a couple
days ago, but then Socks kicked one of the grooms, and
Mary Kay lost a shoe, and I completely forgot.” She hadn’t
forgotten, so much as she was . . . working up to it. Giving
him a few days of seeing her around the ranch when she
was in control of herself, before she got close enough she’d
have to see his opinion of her in his eyes. He shrugged,
careful not to tip the tall cake off its platter. “I think we got
off on the wrong foot the day we met, and our do-over didn’t
really stick.”
Oh God. Apparently, he wasn’t tiptoeing around anything today.
LJ grinned—a playful, twinkly-eyed one that made him look
like he was just having more fun than everyone else. “Besides,
nobody’s afraid of a guy with a cake.”
A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth.
“I’ve never heard that.” “No? It’s completely true. Not to
mention, bringing a cake is the best excuse to eat some. I mean,
it’s yours. You don’t have to share. Of course, if you don’t, you
may want to pass a tissue or two my way, is all I’m saying.”
He widened his eyes mournfully.
She glanced at the cake, the white icing whipped into gorgeous
swirls.
“Did Stacia make that? She used to be terrible at baking.”
She gripped the edge of the door a little tighter.
Maybe her friend had been practicing.
It wasn’t like she knew what Stacia was up to these days.
“I’m a little offended. A man doesn’t bring a borrowed cake
for an apology.” He lifted the platter and gave it a waggle.
“We’ve got lemon
velvet with French buttercream here.
You oughta get it out of the heat soon, though. The sun melted
the frosting some on the way over. It’s a hike to get up over here,
you know it?”
Oops, he was feeling around for an invitation. Duh, and she was
still standing in her door like some kind of freak. “Um, come in.”
The least she could do was feed him some cake and try to act like
a normal person. She stepped aside and racked her brain for small
talk that didn’t involve anything on four hooves. “You know, I can’t
quite place your accent. You said you were from Louisiana, but I’ve
met lots of people from there at rodeos, and they didn’t sound
quite like you.”
“Well, you can tell I’m from the South because I interrupted your
workout with dessert.”
He tipped his head toward the yoga mat she’d left by the couch.
She smiled, and his grin brightened a couple more watts.
“Seriously, though, I think I’ve got a little bayou country from
my days on my uncle’s horse ranch,cut with the rhythm of the
Lower Ninth, maybe some southern drawl creeping in from the
Mississippi border. And New Orleans has a sound all its own,
always has.” Between one word and the next, his words
straightened to all square corners instead of luscious curves.
“Then again, if my mother is listening, I sound strictly like
the Yankee university she helped pay for.”
“Your mom doesn’t like your accent?” Andra frowned.
“Doesn’t she have one?”
“Mama thought I wouldn’t get a decent job unless I talked
like a white banker from Wisconsin.” He shrugged.
Her eyes widened. “That’s not fair. Why should you have
to fake an accent to get a job?”
“That’s the way the world works. People have ideas about
what intelligence should sound like, and I don’t expect I’m
going to change all of them on my own.” He winked.
“I tutored English composition for
work study all through college, so I can play the game.
I have to admit, though, sometimes it’s nice to sound like home.”
Andra laughed, a little self-consciously. “I don’t think I even
realized we had an accent up north until you imitated it.”
“Oh, it’s an accent all right, sweetheart.
And you’ve got it thick as anything.”
Heat crept into her skin at the endearment, though she didn’t
get the feeling he was really flirting with her. She glanced away,
the afterimage of him seared on her lids. His deep-brown eyes
were a couple of shades darker than his skin, and they
always seemed to be laughing. He was handsome, with high
cheekbones and sensual lips. The kind of man she would have
looked twice at, once.
ABOUT Michelle Hazen

Michelle Hazen is a nomad with a writing problem. Years ago,
she and her husband swapped office jobs for seasonal gigs and
moved out on the road. As a result, she wrote most of her books
with solar power in odd places, including a bus in Thailand, a golf
cart in a sandstorm, and a beach in Honduras. Currently, she’s
addicted to The Walking Dead, hiking, and Tillamook cheese.
Follow Michelle:
This release event is brought to you by Forever Write PR.
For more information, visit our

21 August 2019

Boundary by Ebony Olson Book Blitz! @XpressoTours #XpressoTours @ebony_olson


Boundary
Ebony Olson
Publication date: September 20th 2019
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Vera Cana has given her life to escape her abusive ex. She’s earned her freedom and has the scars to prove it. Now, she’s starting a new life. Purchasing a cottage in a lush forest, she’s ready to live out her days in peace. The goddess has other plans.
If Vera thought by hiding out in her little cottage she could avoid any more packs and their alphas, she was wrong. When her new neighbor knocks on her door, the draw to him is magnetic, but the scars of her past are a barrier higher than the boundary fence between their properties. Dale’s presence causes a heady mix of calm and excitement, which only adds to the potency of his patient, but determined personality. Vera is about to learn a lot about the way packs work, and she’s going to discover how strong she can be.
Nothing takes more inner strength than learning how to trust someone with your heart.
A stand-alone paranormal romance.


Author Bio:
Ebony lives in Sydney, Australia, with her husband, daughter, and six cats. She loves to read fantasy, thrillers, and paranormal romance, spending most of her free time with her nose in a book or writing.
Having always possessed an over-active imagination she spent her younger years regaling friends with fantastic stories, holding her audience captive with the passion and suspense of her characters plights.
Now in adulthood she has numerous published works and shows no signs of stopping her imagination from spreading across as many pages as it can find.
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