The Jane Thing by Tracy Broemmer Book Release Tour! @IndiePenPR #indiepenpr #tracybroemmer

 

  In THE JANE THING by Tracy Broemmer, Gideon Reece finds himself living with his sister’s best friend who is all sunshine and chatter. However, the more time we spend together, the more I’m realizing that Skye Stafford is different from any woman I’ve ever known, but I can’t risk ruining her friendship with my sister. Fans of Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey will devour this must-read enemies to lovers, best friend’s sibling romance from the Meet Cute Book Club Series.

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In THE JANE THING by Tracy Broemmer, Gideon Reece finds himself living with his sister’s best friend who is all sunshine and chatter. However, the more time we spend together, the more I’m realizing that Skye Stafford is different from any woman I’ve ever known, but I can’t risk ruining her friendship with my sister. Fans of Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey will devour this must-read enemies to lovers, best friend’s sibling romance from the Meet Cute Book Club Series.

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When my best friend asks me to put her brother up at my place for a while, I’m totally on board. After all, I practically grew up in Chloe and Gideon’s house, so I used to kind of know him. Those childhood memories don’t compare to the real Gideon Reece when he shows up ready to be my temporary roommate. He’s grown into a smoking hot guy complete with tattoos, rakish-looking hair, and a face that looks like art. Too bad he’s a pompous jerk.

My sister’s best friend is going to drive me crazy before my stay here is over. She’s prettier than I remember, but she’s all sunshine and chatter, like she thinks we’re going to be besties while I’m here. Spoiler alert: we’re not. I’m here to secure a job and find a place to live, and in the meantime, I have no interest in palling around with Skye Stafford.

Then why did I kiss her? Probably the same reason I can’t get her off my mind. She’s completely different from any woman I’ve ever known, and to my regret, I can’t get enough of her. I have to keep my hands to myself, because I’d never forgive myself if I came between Chloe and Skye. 

 

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Copyright 2022 @Tracy Broemmer

“What are you doing?” 

Frame in one hand and my hammer in the other, I stop just inside my bedroom and look at Gideon.

“What’s it look like?”

My sarcasm flies out the window when he tips his head like he’s actually thinking about it. I feel the heat from his intense stare as it travels up over my black heels and bare legs and skinny gray pencil skirt. What had he called it last night? Corporate getup?

“Kinda like an eighties music video,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe porn.”

Stunned by his answer, I take half a second to wonder if I’m offended. The laugh pops out before I make up my mind. I hold out the hammer and twist it this way and that and finally shudder when I look back at him.

“I’m going to hang his picture.” I turn my back on him and put the frame and hammer down on my bed. 

“Want help?”

I peek at him over my shoulder and shake my head. “No thanks.”

“Well, I mean, you can’t just hammer a nail in a wall and be done with it. You have to measure, so you’re not crooked.”

“I’m not crooked,” I promise him. I kick off my heels and lead him to the spot on the wall I’ve already measured and marked. “I did that first.”

Rather than look at the spot on the wall, Gideon studies me. Up close to him like this, I smell his cologne. Something woodsy but not overpowering. He also smells like old books or at least an old building—like the mix of paper and dust. 

“Did you work late?” he asks me, and when I shake my head, he asks, “why are you still dressed like that?”

Wow. He really does have an issue with professional attire. 

“Had a date,” I answer. I left my nail out on the counter, so I go to get it. When I come back in, Gideon’s looking around my room. My cheeks heat with embarrassment when I see a lacey black bra tossed over the nightstand. He looks at me again with narrowed eyes, as if he’s trying to work out if I brought my date home and slept with him and forgot to put my bra on when I got dressed again.

“A date.”

“Mm-hmm.” I stick the nail between my teeth and eye the spot I marked earlier with a pencil.

“With who?”

“Mel Kavanaugh.”

“Don’t know him.”

“No kidding.” I speak around the nail in my teeth and roll my eyes. “He works at the bank.”

“That your type?” I wouldn’t swear to it, but he sounds disappointed.

“Will you gimme the hammer?” Nail still between my teeth, I hold my hand out and nod my thanks when he puts the hammer on my palm. Taking the nail out of my teeth, I lean closer to the wall and tap it gently with the hammer.

“Did you use a stud finder?”

“For the date? No.” I shake my head. “Maybe that was the problem.”

I have to look at him when I hear his soft laugh.

“I meant for the nail.” He points at the wall. “I’m surprised you can use nails in a new apartment.”

“Landlord thinks that sticky stuff is the devil’s invention. Told me to hammer as much as I want.”

Gideon’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as his face crinkles with laughter.

“Tell me you meant to say that.”

“Totally did,” I promise him.

Tracy Broemmer is the author of several contemporary romance novels including The Mississippi Queen Trilogy, Toasted, and the H Books. Tracy also writes women’s fiction and is the author of the Williams Legacy series as well as several stand-alone titles. Tracy’s books have been called gripping, emotional, and timely, and readers describe her characters as real and relatable. Tracy lives in Midwestern Illinois with her husband of 29 years.

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About The Meet Cute Book Club Series

 

 Escape with the Meet Cute Book Club where meet-cutes don't only happen between the pages of romance novels and members find their own happily ever afters. Eight single women bound by their love of books take a monthly break from real life to lose themselves in the chapters of romantic fiction. From friends to lovers to fake relationships and more, each story features a brand new couple and their journey to find love from an amazing lineup of authors including Louise Lennox, Tracy Broemmer, A.M. Williams, Mel Walker, RJ Gray, Rebecca Wilder, Julie Archer, and Kate Stacy. These eight standalone romances are packed with meet-cutes, heat, and of course a happily ever after!

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Buck Up, Buttercup by Anna Alkire Book Blitz and Giveaway! @anna.alkire #annaalkire #BuckUpButtercup ⁣⁣⁣⁣ #XpressoTours⁣⁣ @XpressoTours⁣

 

Buck Up, Buttercup
Anna Alkire

Publication date: June 30th 2022
Genres: Comedy, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

All’s fair in love and war.
With Randi and Buck, it’s hard to tell the two apart…

An uptight, self-contained college girl, Randi Becker just needed one thing: a room. Somewhere she could study, and keep away from the things that most confuse and frighten her: people.

Unfortunately, the “nice quiet place” she reserved turns out to be a room in the campus’ most raucous house. A place seemingly designed to make studying impossible, made even worse by the other girls’ non-stop drama.

But then Buck, a fun-loving cowboy whom all the ladies love, shows up…and everything gets much worse.

Buck seems to have it all: friends, fun, and a never-ending line of admirers. But what he most desires is a break. So when Buck spots Randi, he figures she’s a perfect decoy: he can play up a “crush” on her that will take him off the market; buy him some breathing room. And if he can tease her a bit, and get under the skin of the uptight busybody? Well, that’s just gravy.

But Buck is about to find more than he bargained for. Randi’s strong-willed, opinionated, difficult—and maybe just what he needs. And Buck isn’t alone. Soon Randi wonders as well…if the world she wanted is really the world she needs. If her future is nothing more than a diploma on the wall. And if the most important thing in her world isn’t a grade, but the cowboy who’s planted his boots firmly in her heart.

Fans of Beth O’Leary’s The Flatshare and Sally Thorne’s The Hating Game will delight at this mix of romantic comedy, contemporary romance, and cultures colliding in a campus town with a western flair. Grab your copy today, and fall in love with Buck Up, Buttercup!

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

An old pickup, with new shiny green paint, slowed down beside her until it crawled along at her pace. A quick glance sideways revealed black-hat-cowboy-guy grinning down at her.

A jolt of awareness cleared some of the fog from her head. He was more good-looking than she’d remembered, and also incredibly large above her in the truck.

“Good morning, darlin’,” he called down.

“Drive on,” she called out.

“Headed into town? We’ve got room.”

“I’m going to walk.” She wouldn’t get into a car with a single person from that party. She walked forward, not looking at him.

“Hold up, you dropped something,” he said, stopping the truck.

Randi whirled around, scanning the empty ground behind her. Her fingers lost their grip and her bags crashed down, things spilling out onto the gravel road. Her eyes burned.

Buck turned off the truck engine and leaned out the window.

“That’s a lot of gear to haul all the way into town,” he said, cheerfully.

“That was a dirty trick.”

“I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

“Leave me alone please!”

“Listen. Hugh, in the passenger seat, and I are headed in for some breakfast. If you ride with me, this gas guzzler will have a full cab. Darlin’, that’s a load off my conscience.”

Randi’s belly shuddered and her lips quivered. The dam burst. Her hands flew up to cover her eyes and a hiccupped sob exploded out.

“I can’t jump in some stranger’s pickup,” she mumbled through her fingers.

“Hey now,” he said, the amused condescension in his voice aking her glare up at him. “You hold on to that pepper spray if it makes you feel better. Land’s sake, girl, we hauled around passed-out-Sarah last night. You’re practically part of the family. And Hugh here has about twenty sisters, so he’s well-trained.”

The door of the truck opened. She took a step back, pulling up the inside collar of her dress to dab at her face.

Buck’s eyes crinkled at her, a lopsided half-grin on his face. It was probably the way he looked at cows right before he lassoed a rope around their necks, or whatever. But he had helped Sarah. And her.

Her shoulders slumped. Defeated, she was beyond resistance. If they murdered her, at least she might be sitting down.

“All right?” he asked.

She exhaled. “All right, I’ll take a ride to the closest bus stop. Thanks.”

Buck picked up her bags and put them in the back of the truck. She hauled her heavy backpack off her aching shoulders and turned to sling it up, but Buck was already gripping the top and lifting it out of her hands.

“Hi,” said a burly man sitting on the passenger side of the bench seat, a gentle smile on his face. Like she was a crazy person. Which she was. With a deep breath, she hoisted herself up into the cab next to him.

“Sorry about Buck,” the big guy said, glaring at the culprit with one eye squinted. “He’s devious about getting what he wants.”

Buck landed on the seat beside her. “Hugh keeps the standards up. Probably why he’s so grumpy all the time.”

Hugh crossed his arms, leaning into the passenger door. His buzzed blond head and muscular frame brought to mind a late-twenties version of Mr. Clean, minus the jewelry.

“I ain’t grumpy. Just tired of your ugly face.”

Buck chuckled. Randi caught herself staring at him. She wouldn’t call his face ugly, not even anything related to unattractive. More like relentlessly cheerful. And way too confident that he could boss everyone around. She sniffed, annoyed with him enough to stop crying.

The truck rolled forward, bumping on the gravel road. They sat on an old-fashioned bucket-style bench, comfortable for two people, and a squeeze for three. The middle seat offered no belt. A death trap. Because that was the logical conclusion to her week from hell. She braced a hand on the dash to keep from bouncing into the bodies next to her.

Not touching either man, holding her body tense and straight, made her neck ache. And still she knocked knees with Hugh and almost leaned on Buck’s shoulder. Buck’s hand on the manual gear shifter was an inch from her thigh, his fingers brushing the edge of her skirt when he shifted. Short of sitting on Hugh’s lap, there was nowhere for her to go to keep from touching him.

She felt shaky, barely keeping herself together. Every time Buck changed position she noticed it, his muscular arms flexing as he drove. It was like sitting next to a tiger: electrifying, an experience you never forgot, and total madness.

“So,” said Buck, flashing a grin at her. “What’s your rush this morning? You just moved in last night.”

Randi dug a tissue out of her bag. “I can’t live in a party house,” she said, dabbing at her running nose.

“A Waffle House?” said Hugh.

“She said party house, Einstein.” Buck glanced at her. “How’d you end up with a room out there?”

“I was teaching in Argentina and found it online. Paid everything…” She paused, choking up, not sure why she was telling them. “They lied to me.” And she dissolved again, covering her face with the tissue.

What was wrong with her? It was beyond humiliating to be crying like a child in front of these strangers. At least she’d never have to see them again.

“Huh,” said Buck, tapping the steering wheel. “Well, I know Trish isn’t happy about the parties.”

“They got an ugly ticket last June,” said Hugh. “She’s on probation.”

Randi sat up straighter, taking in this information. She managed to stop crying, and dabbed her cheeks clean with the tissue.

Buck rubbed the side of his face. “Is that right?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know that, Buck. Jesus.”

“I just look like I know everything.”

“Yeah, well, one more ticket and they’re facing jail time. And, of course, there were minors everywhere last night. I turned my back and they slurped down my keg.”

Randi pushed up her glasses. No wonder Trish hadn’t been there during the party. It revealed, even more, how shamelessly Trish had lied to her in the emails they’d exchanged about the house.

The farmland was transforming into residential housing when Buck turned onto a major road.

“That bus stop coming up will be fine,” said Randi, her voice annoyingly shaky.

“No way, darlin’,” said Buck. “You cry in my truck, and I buy you a coffee. Then, I drop you off wherever you want.”

“No, really—”

“Hey,” he said, “I put up with all the tears. So now we’re going to go to this coffee drive-through and get sugary drinks to make ourselves feel better. Otherwise, Hugh over there might start his period.”

“You’re such a jackass,” Hugh said, shaking his head.

Anna Alkire has been a long-term college student, a business owner, and a world traveler. Now “settled”—with a sigh and a cup of decaf—Anna lives in Washington state, where she splits her time between a husband who thinks the North Pole would be a great place to live, chasing her hurricane of a son, learning new handicrafts, and creating worlds full of the kind of romance and fun she most wants to read. Find more about her (and grab a freebie or two) at her website, annaalkire.com.

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Lies I Tell by Julie Clark Book Review! #TheLiesITell @julieclarkauthor #theliesitell #NetGalley

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 From the author of the New York Times bestseller The Last Flight comes a twisted con-woman thriller about two women out for revenge―or is it justice?

Two women. Many aliases.

Meg Williams. Maggie Littleton. Melody Wilde. Different names for the same person, depending on the town, depending on the job. She's a con artist who erases herself to become whoever you need her to be―a college student. A life coach. A real estate agent. Nothing about her is real. She slides alongside you and tells you exactly what you need to hear, and by the time she's done, you've likely lost everything.

Kat Roberts has been waiting ten years for the woman who upended her life to return. And now that she has, Kat is determined to be the one to expose her. But as the two women grow closer, Kat's long-held assumptions begin to crumble, leaving Kat to wonder who Meg's true target is.

The Lies I Tell is a twisted domestic thriller that dives deep into the psyches and motivations of two women and their unwavering quest to seek justice for the past and rewrite the future.

Julie Clark is the New York Times bestselling author of The Last Flight. It has earned starred reviews from Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, and Library Journal, and the New York Times has called it “thoroughly absorbing”. It’s been named an Indie Next Pick, a Library Reads Pick, and a Best Book of 2020 by Amazon Editors and Apple Books. Her debut, The Ones We Choose, was published in 2018 and has been optioned for television by Lionsgate. She lives in Los Angeles with her two sons and a golden doodle with poor impulse control.

My Thoughts

 Not having read anything by this author, I did not know what to expect. That said I was pleasantly surprised at Lies I Tell. 

Meg Williams and Kat Roberts, as different as they are the same. Both have deep-seated issues. Meg is bitter about how her mother was treated by a man who stole everything from her. Kat is an unsuccessful reporter who is trying to write a story and expose Meg for the con artist she is.

Meg is plotting her revenge against the man who destroyed her mother, but also cons people out of their money. She only goes after men who are selfish and narcissistic, according to Meg. These two women eventually meet and become friends and that is when Kat finds out that Meg is more than what she thought she was.

Is what Meg does ethical, no not really but it was fun to read how she manipulates the target she is after and gets away with millions in cash and properties. I was rooting for her the whole time. As for Kat, she was finally successful in turning her life around, including the relationship with her fiance.

This book is a twisty psychological domestic thriller that will appeal to you if you like this kind of story. My favorite kind. I really enjoyed this book and I give it  5 stars!

I received a copy of the book for review purposes only.

Parasite by Ridley Harker Book Release and Giveaway! @ninestarpress @indigomarketingdesign #LGBTQIA+ #thriller

 

Title: Parasite

Author: Ridley Harker

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/28/2022

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: M/NB

Length: 82500

Genre: Horror, LGBTQIA+, Action/adventure, coming-of-age, dark, humorous

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Description

Seventeen-year-old Jack Ives is used to being unlucky. His only friend has just moved away to college, his parents are alcoholics, and he’s relentlessly bullied by the town psychopath. All that begins to change with the arrival of a handsome but quirky new student, Lucien, who wants to be more than friends.

Their newfound happiness doesn’t last, however, as a strange new illness strikes the island. Fishermen go missing, and the villagers left behind aren’t themselves anymore. When Lucien is suspected to be the cause of the outbreak, can Jack overcome his teenage hormones and save Eldrick Isle? Will he even want to?

Excerpt

Parasite
Ridley Harker © 2022
All Rights Reserved

0054 hours

September 2, 2015

Gulf of Maine

When some kooky mainlanders offered to pay extra for a midnight ferry, Bill Jamison had jumped at the chance to pay off his bar tab. Now he regretted it. The middle-aged fisherman leaned morosely against the starboard rail while beside him his business partner, Jim Kendrick, fought the uphill battle of smoking a pipe during a storm. The rain pounded against the deck in a dull roar and, judging from Kendrick’s cursing, the pipe had gone out once again.

Not for the first time, Jamison reluctantly noted that his partner was getting on in years. Kendrick’s coat hung from his wizened frame like a cloak. His mysterious weight loss had made them both nervous, not that either one said anything. For an Eldrick Islander, the prospect of cancer was like foul weather; something to be endured without complaint.

“Goddamned son-of-a—” Kendrick upended the pipe and a sodden wad of tobacco fell onto the deck. He kicked it away, smearing it across the boards.

“We shouldn’t have gone out tonight,” Jamison said.

“Horse shit,” Kendrick huffed. “We’ve sailed through worse than this.”

“That ain’t what I meant.” Jamison jerked his head toward the mainlander lurking near the bow of the ferry.

Tall and blond, his passenger’s washed-out appearance resembled a photograph, the kind found in a neglected attic of subjects long deceased. Judging by the young man’s pinched frown, Jamison assumed that Silas Spencer was either a lawyer or an undertaker. He shuddered; Jamison hated lawyers, having seen enough of their kind during his divorce. Blood-sucking monsters the lot of them, in his opinion, but he had never been afraid of them, not even when the wretches helped his ex-wife take half of everything he’d owned.

But he was afraid of this one.

It was the eyes. He had seen eyes like that once before, years ago. Back when he had spent much of his days drunk. Once, while Kendrick cleaned their catch, Jamison had gone too far and drunk too much. His legs had betrayed him, and he had tumbled over the side. He remembered tasting blood. A tangy mix of iron and salt that burned his lungs when he tried to inhale. His eyes had stung. He had floundered in the icy water. He, a man who had learned to swim before he could walk, was drowning.

Then the moment of panic was gone, and instinct had set in. Jamison’s powerful legs had propelled him upwards, his arms outstretched toward the boat. He had nearly reached it before the shadow was beneath him. It came at him like a torpedo, almost too fast for his gin-addled brain to comprehend. A massive, prehistoric monster armed with muscled jaws and sandpaper skin. The soulless black pits of its eyes rolled back in its head, and its gaping maw expanded to reveal rows upon row of serrated teeth.

In the split second before the attack, Jamison had stared into the darkness of oblivion—then he had been shaken like a terrier on a rat. The shark had separated the flesh from his leg and sentenced him to a month in a mainland hospital whose bill he was still struggling to pay off. The very existence of such a creature disproved the notion that humans sat at the top of the food chain.

Safely back in the present, Jamison shuddered and remembered to breathe. He rubbed at his forearms, warm beneath his thick woolen sweater. He had been lucky. If he had drunk a little more gin, perhaps he wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to sink his knife deep into the shark’s eye socket. Now only scars and nightmares remained, and he hadn’t touched the bottle since. He liked to say that his rock bottom was on the ocean floor.

Jamison recognized something of that great white shark in Spencer. The man’s flat, grey eyes made his skin crawl. He glowered at Spencer’s broad-shouldered back, but Spencer didn’t seem to notice or care. His attention lay on the swirling mists beyond the ferry’s bow. Typical yuppie mainlander. Pretentious bastard, Jamison thought.

“They’re up to something,” he said aloud, glancing toward the cabin where the other one had sequestered himself.

Kendrick only snorted. “They’re mainlanders. They’ll spend a few weeks on the Isle, get bored, and then go back to whatever hell hole they came from. You know the type. We get a few every other year or so.”

Jamison did know the type. Unlike Nantucket, or Martha’s Vineyard, Eldrick Isle never attracted the summer crowd. There was nothing to offer. The once booming fishing industry had been usurped by commercial trawlers decades ago, forcing the neighboring isles to turn to seaweed farming instead. Eldrick, however, chose to bow its head and soldier on, clinging to the memory of its glory days. Billboards advertised a hotel that had long since shuttered its doors. The lone diner had a Visitor’s Special that no one ever ordered. The pier greeting the newcomers reeked of dead fish, the ever-present stench emanating from the dozen or so rusted fishing boats docked in the harbor.

Then there was the island itself: Eldrick’s shores were steep, rocky cliffs, with edges sharp and jagged like broken teeth. The surf stirred up debris and rotting vegetation, littering the island’s few beaches with trash from the abandoned canning factory on the island’s east side. Even the hottest days of summer were damp and chilly. Mist obscured the frigid waters. It crept onto the island, soaking through the sturdiest of coats. The few vacationers that showed up in August inevitably took one look at the dying town and turned around to book their return ticket.

Rain splattered against Jamison’s hood, echoing in his ears. Kendrick tried his pipe again to no avail. The storm lulled enough that the sound of retching was audible from within the depths of the cabin. Rasping coughs followed by the wet splatter of vomit. The downpour returned with a roar. It slipped past Jamison’s hood, soaking his neck. His shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

Kendrick abandoned his pipe and frowned, his rheumy eyes searching Jamison’s face. Jamison cleared his throat, striving to be heard over the rain and yet not loud enough for Spencer to hear. “Something’s wrong,” he shouted into Kendrick’s ear. “We were barely on the water before the kid got sick—”

“Billy, you been drinking again?” Kendrick asked, clasping Jamison’s shoulder with gnarled fingers. “When’d you get so goddamned superstitious?”

“No, I haven’t been fucking drinking! I’m only saying that this whole thing feels wrong; if one of my brothers were puking like that, I’d at least go check on him. I think the kid’s got something bad—what if it’s contagious?”

“What, like ee-bolah?” Kendrick asked, with a sharp look toward the ferry’s cabin. “Naw, it couldn’t be…”

“You checked on him?”

“No.”

“Well, someone ought to,” Jamison said.

“You do it,” Kendrick said dubiously. “Last time, I slipped in it and damn near broke my back.”

“Go check it out. If he’s only seasick then I’ll clean it up myself, but I’m telling you, something’s very wrong with that kid.”

“Christ, Billy! Nag anymore and you’re gonna sound like my wife.” Kendrick gave him a shove and then marched across the deck toward the cabin. Jamison caught movement in the corner of his eye and found Spencer watching them, his back against the railing. Their eyes met, and all of a sudden Jamison couldn’t hear the storm. There was nothing but the blood pounding in his ears. One corner of Spencer’s thin mouth twitched upward into a razor’s edge of a smirk. Jamison’s skin crawled. He wrenched his eyes away.

“Jim, wait!” Jamison shouted over the rain, but Kendrick had already knocked on the cabin door. The old sailor reached for the handle, his calloused fingers closing in on the doorknob. Jamison sucked in his breath.

Kendrick half turned around, his shoulders squared and his lips pursed, eyes narrowed beneath his bushy white brows. His hand was still on the cabin door. “Jesus Christ, Billy, what now?” he demanded. “What in the hell’s wrong with you, you crazy son of a bitch? You’re shaking like a virgin on—” He paused and glanced down. Jamison didn’t know why until Kendrick tried to take a step back. His boot remained glued to the floor.

Kendrick shoved at the door and yanked at his shoe. He stumbled as it came loose, trailing a viscous black gel behind it. More of the substance pooled out from underneath the cabin door. Lightning flashed, and a rainbow sheen coated the surface of the muck. The door creaked open.

Before Jamison shouted in warning, something darted out from the gloom. Thick and ropy, like a bundle of rotten vines, it hit Kendrick’s wrist with a wet slap, latching onto his bare skin. Kendrick sputtered, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in a perfect caricature of surprise—then another tentacled limb emerged and shoved itself down his gullet. Like a fish on a hook, he was yanked into the cabin.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Ridley Harker is an up-and-coming horror author who delights in all things gay and spooky. While past careers have included reptile keeping at a zoo and EMT work at a casino, writing is his true passion. His favorite books are those with enemies to lovers, small town settings, and great villains. He currently lives in the Middle of Nowhere with his two dogs, a grumpy old snake, and a host of pet tarantulas.

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Peaches and Cream by S. London Cover Reveal! @sieralondon #PeachesAndCream #XpressoTours⁣ @XpressoTours⁣⁣

Peaches and Cream
S. London

Publication date: August 3rd 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Gabriel Abruzzo
Soft.
Ripe.
Juicy.
Her name is Empress. I asked, she didn’t tell. The new masseuse at The Governor is quiet and delicate. Delicate things get broken in the underworld, but Empress is on edge, those dark eyes harboring a thousand nightmares. Edgy gets my attention. And drawing my attention means trouble is coming. I should send her packing, but she clings to me, a man without a soul. One touch and all I think about is the taste of sweet nectar on my tongue. I know she has secrets but I’ll protect my little peach from bruises…at all costs.

Empress Reign
Dark.
Lethal.
Haunted.
I ran from a dangerous man. Now, I’m attracted to one with a darkness that frightens even my demons. Distractions, in the form of my new client, Gabriel could prove deadly. Touching him, stroking my fingers over all his sinewy muscle makes my mouth water for a taste. Getting involved would mean trusting him with my secret. Gabriel’s no angel, yet being close to him transforms my living hell into heaven. Maybe I’m biting off more than I can swallow, or am I?

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Siera write heroines you know, heroes you love, and romance you feel. 

A USA Today Bestselling & Award-winning author, Siera London pens contemporary and paranormal romance, romantic suspense, and crime fiction.She crafts stories of diverse characters navigating their journey with intelligence, wit, emotion, and love.

When away from the literary world, Siera lives on the east coast with Mr. Awesome and a color patch tabby named Frie. She can be found online at www.sieralondonauthor.com or on www.facebook.com/authorsieralondon.

Repped by Latoya Smith / ArtHouse Literary Services

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Etude Book 2 in the Dark Nocturne series by @morgan_shamy Book Tour and Giveaway! #morganshamy #etude #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣⁣

 

Etude
Morgan Shamy

(The Dark Nocturne, #2)
Publication date: June 28th 2022
Genres: Mystery, Paranormal, Young Adult

For November Huntington, the past haunts worse than any ghost.

After spending a summer without Vincent, a tortured pianist who also happens to be immortal, November tries to move on. When kids begin to fall into comas, November is thrust back into the haunted, musical world. Except, this time, more danger lurks.

Vincent is powerful. Dreams are causing these comas, and November believes he’s the one behind the attacks. To stop him, November must find the Blood Magic—the only power capable of helping her save these kids. But in doing so, she awakens a horrific group who live off of blood and kill for sport. What’s worse? A brood of witches con their way in, hungry for the power at hand.

One by one, November finds all her loved ones being wrenched away. Fear grips her, and she’s worried she might lose her mind, her sanity slowly fading, until she must face Vincent alone.

Is he her true love? Or is he out for her blood?

Only her dreams will tell.

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EXCERPT:

The group edged back toward the exit, their footsteps quiet in the large cavern, when a deep pounding reverberated from within the walls. The sound was slow, heavy, and with each pound, the ground vibrated beneath them. Conroy motioned everyone to stop, his head cocked to the side.

“What’s that?” Margaret whispered, her arm still linked through Cam’s.

“Stay calm,” Conroy said. “Whatever it is, we’ll be gone before we see. Let’s go.”

The group started to head out once more, feet shuffling quick, but the pounding continued. The pools of water on the ground rippled, the deep sound jarring November’s teeth. They continued to hurry through the dark cave when a large blast rocketed through the area. White light seared November’s eyes, and she blinked back, waiting for her vision to clear. The group paused again. The pounding continued from the walls, vibrating her bones, and everyone scrambled back in confusion.

“Keep going!” Conroy yelled, but everyone seemed frozen.

The walls began to shimmer as the pounding intensified. November placed her hands over her ears, clamping her teeth down together tight. The noise had taken over her brain, it was hard to focus on the present.

Move your feet, November thought. Run. But she seemed to be as paralyzed as the rest of them.

Very slowly, faces began to appear on the rocky walls. Eyes. Lips. Noses. Cheeks. The faces solidified, pushing outward from the rock, until their bodies also surfaced, pushing outward. They looked skeletal in the dim light, and the pounding continued on. November’s eyes were glued wide. None of the group moved. They couldn’t breathe. It was as if their lives were tied to these men—if such they were—who were peeling themselves from off the rock.

Morgan Shamy is an ex-ballerina turned YA writer. She has been immersed in the arts since the young age of 4, where she performed various roles alongside a professional ballet company for over seven years, and has danced on prestigious stages like soloing at Carnegie Hall in New York City. She has taught hundreds of girls in her fifteen years of teaching, where some of her students have received full-ride scholarships to schools like School of American Ballet, the Harid Conservatory, Kirov Academy of Ballet, and Pacific Northwest Ballet, to name a few.

Morgan discovered writing when her three-year-old son was diagnosed with cancer. It was through that experience which instilled the need to share art and magic with children through words on the page.

Morgan is also an accomplished concert pianist. She was the first girl in Utah to receive the 75 pt. Gold Cup in the Utah Federation of Music in piano solo/concerto competition. Morgan currently lives with her X-Games gold-medalist husband and four children in Salt Lake City, Utah.

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Catching Quinn by #JenniferBonds Book Tour and Giveaway! #CatchingQuinn #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣⁣⁣

 

Catching Quinn
Jennifer Bonds

(Waverly Wildcats, #2)
Publication date: June 28th 2022
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Sports

What’s a girl have to do to lose her virginity around here?

When I decided to ditch my V-card, I figured Greek Row was a sure thing.

I didn’t count on Cooper-the-cockblocking-jockhole-DeLaurentis or his misguided sense of bro code putting an embarrassing end to my hookup. After all, Waverly’s star wide receiver is the most notorious player on campus.

He’s arrogant. Infuriating. Sexy as hell.

Just ask him.

Worse? He’s made it his personal mission to scare off every guy who shows an interest in me. But I’m not about to be outwitted by a hypocritical baller with more ego than sense. I may be a hot mess, but I’m no pushover.

Two can play this game, and I’m playing to win.

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EXCERPT:

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Quinn demands, pulling herself up to her full height. Maybe that shit works on her brother, but I spent the afternoon staring down guys three times her size. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” I point to her half-empty cup. “But if you finish that drink, you will be.”

Her brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong with my drink?”

Is she for real?

“Other than the fact that it’s got five kinds of liquor in it?”

“Five? Really?” She lifts the cup up and stares at it like she’s seeing it for the first time. “Huh. Who’d have guessed?”

“Why do you think it’s called Adiós, Motherfucker? It’s meant to get you shitfaced.” She giggles, probably at the name, and I scrub a hand over my face. “If you don’t know what’s in it, why are you drinking it?”

She cocks a hip. “Mike bought it for me.”

Of course he did. “The asshole was probably trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you.”

“Maybe I was trying to get him drunk and take advantage of him,” she says, poking me in the chest. Heat radiates from the spot where her finger landed, which is ridiculous because it wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact. Probably just leftover energy from the game. She pokes me again. “Did you ever think of that?”

“No.” It’s bullshit, but I’m not trying to picture Quinn seducing some random creeper at a bar. “It did, however, occur to me he might’ve slipped something in your drink.”

Quinn rolls those big green eyes. “I’m a virgin, not a moron. I took the drink directly from the bartender.”

Thank Christ.

Relief surges through my veins. How the fuck does Noah deal with having his little sister on campus? On Greek Row?

For the first time in my life, I’m glad to be an only child. If I saw some dude playing grab-ass with my sister, I’d break his fucking hands.

Quinn’s not your sister, so what do you care?

I don’t.

Okay, fine. I care. But only because I’m not a trash human being.

“I can’t believe you chased Mike off.” Quinn’s bottom lip juts out, forming a sexy little pout. “It was rude.”

“Serves the fucker right.” I plant my hands on my hips. If she thinks she can guilt me over Doctor Octopus, she’s got another thing coming. “Thirty seconds ago, he was dry humping you like a dog in heat.”

“Eww.” She squeals, doing that cute nose scrunching thing again. “Gross.”

I flash her a wicked grin. “Tell me about it.”

“Did you just—” She tilts her head and looks up at me from under her lashes. “Did you just call me gross?

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing gross about you.” That’s half the problem. If she’s really going through with this whole losing her virginity to a stranger thing, she’ll have no trouble finding dudes to volunteer as tribute. “From the looks of it, I arrived just in time.”

“If by just in time, you mean just in time to cockblock me again, then yes.” She lifts the blue drink to her lips and takes a hearty gulp. “You can move along now.” She makes a shooing motion with her other hand. “Go wreck some other virgin’s night.”

“Are you sure I didn’t save your night?” I cross my arms over my chest, and damn if her attention doesn’t lock on my biceps. Not gonna lie, I’m flattered. I figured her type was more studious. “That guy probably doesn’t even know what a G-spot is, let alone how to find it.”

Her gaze shifts to my face, a challenge burning in her eyes. “I suppose you think you could do better?”

Jennifer Bonds is the USA Today bestselling author of sizzling contemporary romance with sassy heroines, sexy alphas, and a whole lot of mischief. She’s a sucker for enemies-to-lovers stories, laugh-out-loud banter, and over-the-top grand gestures. Jennifer lives in Pennsylvania, where her overactive imagination and weakness for reality TV keep life interesting. She's lucky enough to live with her own real-life hero, two adorable (and sometimes crazy) children, and one rambunctious K9. Loves Buffy, Mexican food, a solid Netflix binge, the Winchester brothers, cupcakes, and all things zombie. Sings off-key.

To connect with Jen—and get a FREE book—visit www.jenniferbonds.com!

You can also find her on Facebook and Instagram @jbondswrites.

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