Release Blitz Jasper by Laramie Briscoe! @laramie_briscoe

 

✨ NEW RELEASE ALERT! ✨

Are you ready for Jasper?

Visit @laramie_briscoe and click the #linkinbio to grab your copy of Jasper or start the series now with Boone!

Comment below and let us know your favorite Broken Falls book!

Title: Jasper (Broken Falls, #3) 

Author: Laramie Briscoe

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Release Date: May 24, 2024

Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

I never thought my fake marriage, would become real...

Jasper Hamilton

I've always been a pawn in the game of chess my grandfather prefers to play with me. It started when I was a child who didn't have anywhere else to go after my parents were killed. Gone was my home full of love and warmth, and in its place was a mansion with a man as cold as a winter night. The only thing that kept me sane were my friends. Those blue-collar buddies who didn't care about my grandpa's bank account.

I never cared about the money either. Until he threatens to take away the one thing I love in this world. The foundation created in their memory. The only way for me to get it back? Play by his rules, take a wife, and secure an heir. Something I never planned to do after growing up the way I did. But the way I respond to Daisy Williams, and the satisfaction I get from calling her my wife makes me feel like I've been promoted from Pawn to King.

Tropes Included

Small-town blue-collar marriage of convenience brooding for everyone but her

Jasper is book three in The Broken Falls Series: a series of interconnected standalones following a group of friends who have become family in small-town West Virginia, and the women who bring them to their knees. You do not have to read them in order, but each book builds upon the relationships of the last.

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Laramie Briscoe is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author of over 30 books, with sales of over half a million copies.

Since self-publishing her first book in May of 2013, Laramie has appeared on the Top 100 Bestselling E-books Lists on Apple Books, Amazon Kindle, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. Her books have been known to make readers laugh and cry. They are guaranteed to be emotional, steamy reads.

When she's not writing alpha males who seriously love their women, she loves spending time with friends, reading, and marathoning shows on Netflix. Married to her high school sweetheart, Laramie lives in Bowling Green, KY with her husband.

⬇️ Start the series with Boone⬇️

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Wicked Knight Duet Boxed Set by Author: Diana A. Hicks! #wickedknightduet #authordianaahicks

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Join us for the cover reveal of the Wicked Knight Duet Boxed Set by Diana A. Hicks. Fans who love Forbidden Romances will sink their teeth into this sexy, mafia romance collection. Keep scrolling for more details about this sexy cover.

Title: Wicked Knight Duet Boxed Set

Author: Diana A. Hicks

Release Date: 06/02/2024

Genres: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance

Page Count: 593 pages

Tropes: Mafia Romance, Forbidden Romance, Revenge, Forced Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers

I want my happily-ever-after...

He wants revenge.

It all started with a lie. When I was in high school, I ruined Mr. Gallo's reputation.

Now I'm in his classroom again. I'm older and most definitely over him.

Except, Professor Gallo isn't over me.

Does the grumpy and hot-as-hell college professor have reason to hate me? Yes.

Does he intend to punish me for what I did to him years ago? Also yes.

Professor Luca Gallo has a lesson for me that I'm sure I will never forget.

Short-Story: Heartless Vow

Forbidden love finds a way in this steamy, friends to lovers short

Vittoria Salvatore is no one of consequence. Her life is simple, until she falls for the wrong guy, Giovanni Valentino, the one they call the Lion, her best friend, and the current Don of the Valentino family. The girlish crush she harbored well into adulthood can never be.

Giovanni knows the rules that bound their world and follows them to the letter—the five original crime families can never fraternize. Her feelings for him don't matter.

But rules were meant to be broken. When Vittoria receives the news that would turn her life upside down, she decides to send it all to hell and claim the Lion for herself.

Book Two:

Destiny Can Be So Cruel...

Maxim Belov is Papa's favorite son. Like his father, Maxim is ruthless and always gets what he wants.

Maxim wants me. He doesn't even care that our families are mortal enemies, or that I've never seen his face.

Because of him, I'm forced into a marriage with a stranger.

On our wedding night, when I finally come face to face with my worst enemy, my entire life is turned upside down.

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Diana A. Hicks is an award-winning author of steamy romantic suspense and science-fiction romance. When Diana is not writing, she enjoys hot yoga, kickboxing, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate. She lives in Atlanta and loves spending time with her two children and husband. Connect with Diana on social media to stay up to date on her latest releases.

Praise for Diana A. Hicks:

"Hicks' first installment of her Desert Monsoon series is confident and assured with strong storytelling, nuanced characters, and a dynamic blend of romance and suspense...A sexy and irresistible tale for fans of contemporary romance." - Kirkus Reviews

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Garden of Lust by Fifi Flowers Release Blitz! #BAPpr #FifiFlowers #NewRelease

Title: Garden of Lust 

Author: Fifi Flowers 

Genre: Magical Romance 

Release Date: May 24, 2024 

Cover Designer: Liz of LKO Designs

Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

All my life I have received or been read my horoscope compliments of Madame Jezebel. This one arrived circled with a big green heart and decorated with bright leaves...

The New Moon lights up your social life. A stranger may appeal to your sense of longing and you could be inspired to plant new roots. Regardless, your interest will be inspirational. Follow your feelings when the Moon conjoins Neptune. Use your intuition and have a great time cultivating new blooms. Shine with happiness before the Full Moon. You might even find yourself caring for a garden of lust. Enjoy an energetic glow. 

I was never quite sure what they meant. 

This one wasn't any different.

But I had never seen one jazzed up.

A heart... A stranger... Garden of Lust... 

Did it mean that love was finally coming my way?

For some reason it didn't seem promising.

Starting on a New Moon and ending on a Full Moon.

Then I noticed small words circled in red... Do NOT fall in love.

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Fifi Flowers, an internationally known artist turn author from the Los Angeles area of California, writes romance novels and paints fantasies with a whimsical flair while daydreaming of her time spent sipping café crème in the cafes of Paris.

She penned her love of Paris and romance to the pages of her first novel, A Window to Love, published in 2013, when she sat down, and instead of putting paint to paper, put her pen to paper and began her first novel. 

Since that first novel, Fifi has self-published several contemporary romances and has many more in the works.

Uriel Through Eleanor by Brian Prousky Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #UrielThroughEleanor @brian.prousky @brianprousky

 Unlike any memoir you've ever read. 

As absurd as it is devastating. 

A literal tug of war between competing and compelling versions of the truth.

Uriel Through Eleanor

by Brian Prousky

Genre

 Historical Fiction

 Uriel “Uri” Katz, World War Two veteran, concentration camp liberator, devout atheist, contrarian, cynic and lifelong bachelor, places an ad in a newspaper seeking a “typist” to assist him in writing his memoir and receives only one reply, from a woman, named Eleanor, who negotiates a deal with him that includes room and board.

Within days of her arrival, Eleanor begins inserting herself into Uri’s story. So much so that she eventually becomes one of its main characters. And while Uri is dismayed and, at times, exasperated by this turn of events, he’s also grown accustomed to Eleanor’s company and cooking, and, as such, begrudgingly puts up with the semi-appropriation of his memoir.

Though what remains imperceptible to Uri—until the novel’s final, thrilling pages—is that Eleanor's appearance in his life wasn't coincidental; it was manufactured by her. And that the two have been intricately linked since the day he marched into the concentration camp.

Brian Prousky’s dazzling new book is memoir-writing turned on its head. It’s a story about storytelling itself. About the power of language to shape and misshape history. And about the equal perils of sharing and not sharing deep-held secrets.

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Brian Prousky spent most of his life as two distinct people. The first held a day job and raised a family and was public and sociable. The second ruminated over sentences and wrote books in secret and dreamed of a living a literary life. They shared little in common, mostly their obsessions: Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Mozart, Saul Bellow, Roberto Bolano, tennis and hockey.

Somehow, summoning up a kind of courage or resolve he’d assumed was absent from his DNA, the first Brian Prousky left his day job, revealed his secret and dedicated himself full-time to writing. And the two Brian Prouskys became one. Now the author of five novels, a collection of short stories and two books of poetry, he lives and works in Toronto, where most of his characters, who struggle with secret and often conflicted lives of their own, and who never quite fit in, do as well.

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We proceeded through the guards’ section of the camp and along a final, curved, narrow road, and emerged onto the wider main road that intersected countless prisoners’ barracks. It was like emerging into a different world. One that bore little resemblance to the world we’d occupied our whole lives. The smell that was hinted at since we’d entered the camp—a blend of vomit, shit, uncollected garbage, something indefinable and similar to our own unwashed bodies but different in its magnitude, like it had reached the point of decomposing or rotting, which, until then, we didn’t know was the coalesced, accreting emission from the living and dead alike—now enveloped us. It was inescapable and eye-stinging. And, still, not the primary assault on our senses. Which was everything we saw. And were unprepared to see. Despite the withered harbingers we’d already seen. And despite the fact that a good part of the population, perhaps an even more nightmarish part, was inside the barracks. Nonetheless, the vast, almost endless visible part, overwhelmed and overmatched us. There were thousands upon thousands—no, tens of thousands upon tens of thousands—of prisoners. An army of them. Like the strewn wounded of the losing side of a protracted battle. Milling or motionless. Filthy, half-clothed, shrunken, distended, stooped. Scarred and mangled by abuse. Frozen in expressions of anguish. Or unresponsiveness. Or vacated hope. Among them were the unburied dead. Arranged in piles. Every few hundred feet. But also unarranged and alone. Left where they collapsed and took their last breaths. The ground was like cake batter and they were as much a part of its consistency as the garbage. The living walked over them without a thought. Left shoeprints on them.

Within minutes of arriving at the main camp, I saw a male prisoner reach into his mouth and pull out a tooth and stare at it in his palm. I saw another male prisoner cough up blood, more onto his hand than a dirty, frayed rag he carried with him. I saw another male prisoner, who was pant-less and seated against the side of a barracks, swiping weakly and unsuccessfully at hundreds of darting flies that had strayed from the dead and had landed on, and drank from, open wounds on his legs. I saw male and female prisoners lean over and vomit. I saw male and female prisoners lying and writhing or twitching on the ground. I saw male and female prisoners with more bald spots than hair on their heads. I saw a female prisoner with a poorly bandaged hand that appeared to be missing all but one finger. I saw a female prisoner remove a thin sweater from a dead body and shake free a rat from one of the sleeves. I saw a female prisoner eating what looked like a cockroach. After which I tried, without success, to focus my gaze overtop all the prisoners.  

A number of officers were shouting orders that may as well have been in a foreign language. None of us could hear what amounted to a lesser assault on our senses.   

Three trucks, which had trailed behind us since we entered the camp, and which contained a grossly inadequate amount of food, water and medical supplies, passed in front of us, producing the briefest reprieve, and continued on toward a wooden building with a red cross painted on its roof, indicating, in a cruelly incompatible way, that it was the infirmary.

We began to attract prisoners, who approached slowly and cautiously. Perhaps disbelievingly. The first hundred or so stopped at the far edge of the road as if an invisible wall prevented them from coming nearer. Rows began filling in behind them. And soon more rows were filling in and extending back a considerable distance.

As much as the spectacle of their dehumanized existence had stopped us in our tracks, we too were a spectacle stopping them from coming nearer.        

Men on either side of me were crossing themselves. Some wore the same expressions of anguish as the prisoners. Some fell to their knees. Some trembled. Some appeared suddenly lost. Though I imagine it was their minds shutting down to protect them from the deluge of impossible-to-process stimuli. Some, like Danny, cried quietly, using their bandanas to wipe their eyes.

I believe the only reason I wasn’t weeping or gripped by shock as well, was that I was arrested by a competing observation, or maybe an illusion, though, regardless, my mind was trying to make sense of why so many prisoners, the most wretched of the living and the whole of the dead, were drained of all but one colour. Their skin, hair, lips, eyes, visible wounds and blood were shades of grey. I wondered if their souls had vacated their bodies long before they died. And if it was an act of mercy. Leaving shed, ashen-turning husks that couldn’t experience further pain.

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Painting Celia Incubadora Book 1 by Maya Bairey Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #PaintingCelia @mayabairey

Celia’s yearning for art and León’s passion for painting

 ignite, 

but their journey teaches lessons far beyond the

 canvas. 

Painting Celia

Incubadora Book 1

by Maya Bairey

Genre

 Women’s Fiction, Steamy Romance 

"You can live in my pool house, if you'll teach me to paint."

Living alone in her bare mansion in LA’s Hollywood Hills, gentle Celia takes up art therapy, hoping it will soothe the deep scars of her past. Each failed artwork deepens her fear of losing to depression, like her father.

León, an intense painter struggling with a creative block, empties his savings to move to LA in search of new visions. He needs a cheap studio and some raw, authentic inspiration—his dreams and future as an artist depend on it.

Brought together by their colorful mutual friends, Celia offers León a deal: he can live in her pool house for free if he teaches her to paint. As he becomes her infatuated teacher and she his reluctant muse, both are laid bare by their pursuit of honest art. Could the desperate creativity that drew them together also rip them apart?

Unique and powerful, this sensual slow burn romance unfolds between mature characters, exploring themes of healing, trauma, and empowerment. Perfect for readers who appreciate new contemporary romance and women's fiction, this novel includes diverse, over 40, LGBTQ characters, making it a profound choice for those looking for explicit angsty romantic stories that mirror their own experiences and complexities.

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Maya Bairey lives on the banks of the Columbia river in Portland, Oregon, with her husband and their old cat, Dory. Turning from corporate writing to storytelling, Maya was surprised to find she had a bunch of passionate stories inside her, where stuck people learn to live out loud.

Her debut novel, Painting Celia, explores the intersection of honest art and intense love, where creativity and passion can heal and change us. Maya invites readers to have a fun escape, but also to look inward, discovering their own creative and emotional depths.

For a deeper dive into the Celia’s world, visit bairey.com.

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León’s first sight upon awakening was his painting, Celia in blue.

He’d tossed fitfully all night, submerged in half-sleep, dreaming that she swam circles around him. She was made of living paint, a teasing sprite of liquid curves and lashing waves of blue. The urge to touch her burned in him, but he dared not. His fingers would smear her deep lacings of color.

He awoke at dawn to his canvas shining in the morning light. Dozy and bemused, León breathed in her image—glowing Celia, revealed in luminous hues. His fleeting dreams faded as bright pride swelled. Beaming from his bed, inhabiting every brush stroke, he reveled in the painting’s story. The colors were raw, visceral and daring, that all-important curve of her waist striking upward, its path true and exquisite through the fluid blues and golds.

It was perfect. The best thing he’d ever done.

He got out of bed and walked closer, in love with the colors in early light. Her shape floated at peace, vulnerable and authentic as one can only be when alone. It whispered echoes of the womb, relief from fear, trust in support of dark water. It was the most honest image he’d ever painted, and though she was the subject, it came from inside him. He’d felt fragile before, and it could have looked like this.

What a story. She was wonderful. He wanted to paint her again.

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💥 PREORDER ALERT!💥 Preorder your copy of Running Alone by DM Earl! #BAPpr #DMEarl #PreorderAlert

💥 PREORDER ALERT!💥  

Preorder your copy of Running Alone by DM Earl!

Visit @dmearl14 and click the link in her bio to #preorder your copy!

What you’ll find in Running Alone!

❋ Oblivious to love

❋ Age Gap

❋ Small Town

❋ Women’s MC

❋ Rich vs  Poor

❋ Secret Crush

❋ Different Worlds

❋ Bad Childhood

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