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Sunday, March 25, 2018

By the Book by Sheritta Bitikofer 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Western Romance)



When Tara Christiano slid the pretty romance novel down from the shelf at the local bookstore, she never suspected that her life would be turned upside down. It isn't just any ordinary book. It can predict the future. Specifically, Tara's. And when her future becomes intertwined with a handsome new face in town, she anxiously awaits each new page that is revealed, hoping Beau will become her love interest.
Beau Bremor came back to Brooksdale, Texas to help his brother get back on his feet after the loss of his wife. Helping on Daniel's ranch is one thing, but the well-being of his little niece, Dixie, is in the forefront of his mind. She needs a mother and Daniel needs a wife. When Beau reunites with his former high school crush, a scheme formulates. But, can he keep his objective in mind while he's falling head-over-heels again for the beautiful and witty Tara, whom he is trying to set up with his brother?



When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I’ve always been a creative person. I’m an only child and my parents divorced when I was young, so when my mother was working or too busy to play with me, I’d play pretend and come up with stories. My cousins lived right around the corner from me, so I’d sometimes go over there to play. These were the days before internet, cellphones, electronic interactive games, etc. So all we had were each other. We came up with stories together and I found that I always wanted to keep the game going long after we were done. As I grew up, I discovered libraries and books where I could go on adventures from the safety of my own living room. When I learned how to write, I would make these little picture books for my friends. I even came up with a play for my second grade class to perform. I’d done a few short stories here and there through elementary school, but middle school is when I first decided to try and write something a little longer. My English teacher was phenomenal and would have us do these writing prompts first thing before class. I remember one asked us to describe how our morning went. That particular morning, I threw up in the bathroom, so I described that in full, unashamed detail. Everyone loved it! It gave me the courage to explore the craft. By the time I graduated high school, I had written four novels, a screen play, and a short story that I hoped to publish one day. It wasn’t until three years after I graduated that I began to take the self-publishing route seriously. So, I’ve always been a writer. I’ve created characters that have grown up with me and helped me discover more about myself and how I view the world. I’ve developed as a person through my passion and dedication to writing and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

How did you come up with the concept and characters for the book?

By The Book was actually a very small concept at first. It wasn’t even really sure how to flesh it out until one of my other author friends decided to start and anthology project. I elected to be part of it and finally decided to dust this idea off the shelf and give it a go. There were some stipulations about the anthology project that actually helped fill in the blanks, so to speak. For instance, the fact that it takes place in Texas was a requirement for the anthology and it ended up adding a lot of meaning to the story.
The whole story started with a meme I saw on Facebook and the jist of it was the idea that a character from a book could fall in love with the reader. The first scene of By The Book played out in my mind, when Tara is in the bookstore and Beau walks in. I imagined how confused she would be to be reading about herself in the book, and then read about this handsome stranger who walks in and looks just like the model on the book cover. That was all I had to start with, and like I said, having those few requirements for the anthology really helped. The project fell through before it could start and I was free to do what I wanted with the story. I finished it and went back, adding a few details like the fact that Beau had a crush on Tara in high school, and I added some background drama about his family dilemma with the ranch.
The characters have never been difficult for me to create and my beta readers all love Dixie, Beau’s niece, because the way I’ve written her is so accurate to how a little girl would behave. The only character that I struggled with was Daniel. I wasn’t sure whether to make him a cold, unfeeling kind of guy who was shy and still mourning the loss of his wife, or the resentful older brother who harbored some bitterness about having to take care of the ranch when Beau was a better candidate. Tara’s love for line dancing stemmed from my own passion for country music. I often picture Beau as a counselor I had at a summer camp I went to in Hunstville Texas. Broad shoulders, strong, compassionate. He’s both dynamic and single-minded in that he wanted to do everything he can for his family, while still struggling with what he wants in the end.

What kind of research do you do before you begin writing a book?

While I write a lot of urban fantasy and paranormal, I also seem to set up camp in the historical department. For that reason, I love research. By The Book didn’t require a lot of the kind of research I’m used to. I watched hours of country line dancing videos the chapter before they all go dancing, which came in handy a week later. My husband and I were at a party and they played Copperhead Road. I had never done the dance before, but I got up and was able to join in all because of my research that I did for this novella. In other books – particularly my historical series – I do extensive research. One time, I spent days trying to look up what a particular bath house in Pompeii looked like for a three or four paragraph scene in my shifter series, The Decimus Trilogy. I watched countless documentaries, read articles, looked through Google Earth, but I couldn’t find this one bathhouse. Then, I went to YouTube and a tourist had shot a five-minute video with their phone of the exact bathhouse I was looking for. I was overjoyed, but furious at the same time because I had held up work on the story until I had this one detail right. Part of my obsessive personality is that I want to make things just perfect, because I fear some history buff will come in and blast me for an inaccuracy.
The series I’m working on right now, The Legacy Series, stretches across time from 1555 England to Chicago 1920s. Each novella skips around countries too. I’ve learned so much through writing that series, probably more than any one person should know. I learned how to cuss someone out in Irish Gaelic, how to present myself in Navajo (in correct clan order), and the history of Australia down to how many people were on the prison ships as they were coming over to colonize New South Wales. I know some of these little details may never make it into the story, but knowing them as a writer helps me to flesh out my characters and know what is and what isn’t possible for the story.

What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first?

I start with character names. I’ve tried to start with the outline first, but found it got confusing because I would plot out these scenes without knowing names and sometimes my notes wouldn’t make sense. Once I have my entire cast of characters figured out and how they’re all interconnected, I set to writing the chapter outlines. I used to do bullet points, but I’m starting to chart it all out in a three-column table so I can see notes about character development for each chapter and what kind of emotion needs to be conveyed. I never write a single word of the manuscript until I have the outline completely done and fine-tuned. Even when it’s done, something may come up in the course of writing the manuscript and things change, but I at least like to know where I’m going before I start.
About the same time I’m making this outline, I’ll make some basic notes about how I want the characters to develop over the course of the story. Will she get over a certain fear? Will he let go of a grudge? Stuff like that. Along with the chapter map, it helps me to understand the characters, which aids me when I’m writing out their dialogue and narrative.
Then, I start writing. I like to do about half a chapter a day, which can range from 2,000 to 3,500 words. If I’ve got a good flow going, I won’t stop there and keep going with the rest of the chapter. I like to divide up my point-of-view segments that way. So, you may see that half of the chapter is dedicated to the heroine’s perspective and then the other half is for her hero. Doing only half a chapter a day can help me reset and get into the other character’s mindset. When I’m not writing, I try to immerse myself into the next scene and get the right attitude. My day job is a blessing because I can listen to music, which will help set the mood for when I’m ready to write once I get home. The actual writing process could take me anywhere from a month and a half to two months. The exception was when I wrote a 85,000 word novel in a little over two weeks.
Once the final sentence is written, I usually treat myself to a nice dinner out with my husband or splurge on lunch for myself. Then, I give myself a couple of days to rest and regroup. Sometimes, I’ll work on the plot outline for another book or take some time to read or study the craft. Only then, once I’ve halfway emptied my head of the story, I’ll go back and do a first round of edits. Sometimes I’ll read it silently to myself, but I’ve found that I catch more typos when I have a text-to-speech program reading it to me. That could take me about a week, maybe two, because I’ll spend one afternoon editing two or three chapters.
Once my personal rounds of editing are done, I send it off to beta readers, editors, and carry on with the rest of the self-publishing process.


 

Shopping for a Billionaire by Julia Kent 💕 FREE eBook Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Romantic Comedy)



When mystery shopper Shannon Jacoby meets billionaire Declan McCormick with her hand down a toilet in the men's room of one of his stores, it's love at first flush in this hilarious new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent.


I realize we’re still shaking hands, and his eyes are taking me in. “Uh, Shannon. Shannon Jacoby. Nice to meet you.” I find my voice.

He looks around the room and bursts out laughing, a flash of straight white teeth and a jaw I want to nuzzle making me inhale sharply. That laugh is the sound of extraordinary want entering my body, taking up residence low in my belly, and now waiting for a chance to pick china patterns and paint colors to really consider itself at home.

Go away, want. I’ve banished you.

Want ignores me and settles in, cleaning out the cobwebs that have taken up residence where I used to allow desire and hope and arousal to live.

Squatter.

“Shannon, this has to be the strangest way I’ve ever met a woman.” One corner of his mouth curls up in a sexy little smile, like we’re on a beach drinking alcohol out of coconuts carved by Cupid and not in a ratty old bathroom with a fluorescent tube light that starts buzzing like a nest of mosquitoes at an outdoor blood bank.

“You don’t get around much, then,” I say. My toes start to curl as my body fights to contain the wellspring of attraction that is unfurling inside me. No. Just…no. I can’t let myself feel this. You spend enough time trying not to feel something and all that work gets thrown away with one single flush.

He does that polite laugh thing, eyes narrowing. I decide to just stare openly and catalog him right back. Brown hair, clipped close, in a style that can only come at the hands of the owner of a very expensive salon. The bluish-gray suit, textured and smooth at the same time, shimmering and flat as well under the twitchy light. Skin kissed by the sun but also a bit too light, as if he used to spend a lot of time outdoors but hasn’t recently.

A body like a tall tennis player’s, or a golfer’s, and not my dad with his pot-bellied buddies getting in a round of nine holes at 4 p.m. just so they can have an excuse to drink their dinner. Declan is tall and sleek, confident and self-possessed. He moves like a lion, knowing the territory and owning it.

Always aware of any movement that interests him.

I’m 5’ 9” and he’s taller than me by at least half a foot. Tall girls always do a mental check: could I wear high heels with him? Steve hated when I wore high heels, because it put me eye-to-eye with him.

“What are you doing in the men’s room?” he asks, smirking at me.

#3:

We are in the financial district of Boston, where people like me notice the nearest Starbucks or Boloco, but folks like the vice president for marketing at Anterdec notice which building has a helipad for helicopter landings.

Three suited men are turned away from us as we enter, their heads huddled in discussion. One head is gray, two are brown.

No women. Of course.

“Advantage already. No women,” Greg whispers in my ear. He is the opposite of sexist. He pays all of us, male or female, the same crappy salary.

The office is gorgeous. I’d expected a sleek, black and gray glassed room overlooking the building across the narrow road; the financial district isn’t close enough to the water for everyone to get their sliver of a view of the ocean.

But this. We are on the twenty-second floor and the window looks out over a rooftop terrace next door, covered with topiary filled with…PacMan?

“Is that a PacMan maze on that rooftop, or am I nuts?” I whisper to Amanda, who stifles a giggle.

“Big video-game development company next door. Their IPO just happened. I hear one of the perks of working there is that they deworm your dog or cat on site while you work.”

I open my mouth to say something back, when the three men turn and stand, facing us.

My mouth remains open.

One of the men is Declan McCormick.

His eyes meet mine and five different emotions roil through that chiseled jaw, those sharp eyes, that sun-kissed skin. Most of them are scandalous. All of them make my toes curl.

And then his face spreads with the hottest, warmest, most mischievous smile I have ever seen on a man who has taken over my damn senses, and he says:

“Toilet Girl!”


      


Everything He Wants: Billionaire Breakfast Club: The Jock A #MeetCute Romance by Lisa Hughey 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕(Contemporary Romance)



Boy Meets Girl. It’s the way romances usually begin…and while we all love a happy ending, it’s the #meetcute that wins our hearts.

Everything He Wants (Billionaire Breakfast Club #1 The Jock) A #meetcute romance

Their friends set up an interview, it was supposed to be simple….

D’Andre Smith has it all.

Fame. Money. Women. On the outside, his life looks perfect. But he’s got a secret that could destroy it all, so the last woman he should get involved with is a reporter.

Elise Putnam is searching for a scoop to scoop all scoops to prove her investigative chops, so the last thing she should do is get involved with an interview subject.

Their instant attraction has the potential to develop into something more if D opens his heart and Elise opens her mind. But their ingrained desire to protect their secrets may be stronger than their love….

Everything He Wants is the first book in the Billionaire Breakfast Club series. Seven strangers-with nothing in common except the desire to succeed-discover true love….

Everything He Wants: D’Andre and Elise

She Feels Like Home: Peter and Brittanica

His Dirty Little Secret: Jay and Courtney

This is the first installment in a new contemporary romance series, Billionaire Breakfast Club, by Lisa Hughey. Seven strangers (with nothing in common except a desire to succeed) discover true love…



One of my favorite tropes is forced intimacy, whether it’s a pretend dating situation or a marriage of convenience plot. D’Andre Smith loves his mother, and he doesn’t want to do anything to upset her. So here he is having lunch with a reporter, and she hates reporters. So what can he do?

Before D could wrap things up, a raucous burst of laughter from the entrance to the restaurant blasted through his consciousness. Shit! He recognized that laugh.
D ducked down, the slatted wood partition kept him hidden right now but within a minute he was going to be busted.
“What’s wrong?” Elise’s perfect platinum brows arched down as she tilted her head quizzically.
Mary Smith hated reporters. Seriously hated them. “My mother,” he whispered.
Elise lifted in her booth seat and craned her neck to look over the partition. “Really?” Her smile illuminated their table.
Lordy, he needed her to not draw attention to them while he frantically searched for a reason to be here with her. “Don’t look,” he whispered.
She propped her arms on the table and hunched her shoulders so that she was below the partition. Her ice blue eyes danced with amusement, the cold demeanor wiped away by her smile. “Why are we hiding?”
“She hates reporters.” Jesus, his momma would rip him a new one if she found out he was here with a reporter.
“You’re seriously afraid of your mother?”
“Never piss off a Southern black woman, she’ll make you regret it.” His heart pounded in his chest.
“What were you going to do when my article came out?”
“I had time to ease her into the idea of an interview.” Think, think. “I’ve got it. Be my date.”
She reared back. “Excuse me?”
But that was it. His mother knew all his top employees. His business was more like a family than a corporation.
He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. His forearm rested on her phone between them.
Her skin was impossibly soft. “Pretend to be my lunch date.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “She won’t believe it. You date gorgeous black women, models.”
True. And surprising that she knew that.
“God your skin is so soft.” For a moment he got lost in the sensation of touching her.
She flushed, tensed her fingers, clearly ready to pull her hand from his.
“You’re not kidding.” In a heartbeat, she squinted her eyes, and her gaze turned calculating.
“Shit no, I’m not kidding.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“The satisfaction of knowing D’Andre Smith owes you a favor,” he hissed.
“Sorry, but I need more than that.”
“Can we discuss after we deal with this?”
She smiled. “Sure, but you owe me.”


   


Friday, March 23, 2018

Blue Vision by Marie Lavender 💕 Cover Re-Reveal & EXCLUSIVE eBook Giveaway 💕 (Sci-Fi Romance)



An undeniable connection. A dangerous secret.

Brooke Sanders just wants to get away from her life for a while. A remote cabin in Montana fits the bill. She doesn’t expect to encounter a mysterious stranger with unusual blue eyes, or events that cannot be explained…

Colin Fielding is on a mission – scout a planet and return home to Endhivar. Simple really. What he doesn’t anticipate is that fate has a pretty twisted sense of humor. Suddenly, this human calls to him, every part of him, like the call of a true mate, and he can’t deny the connection as he gets closer to her.

Little do they know, someone is out to do them harm, as well as the world Brooke holds so dear. Can they stop what’s coming before it’s too late? Or will the universe lose a perfect gem?



Nothing was there, and yet she was drawn to some unknown source. Of their own volition, her fingers shifted, unlocking the doors, and then pushed them open. The cold breeze was hardly a deterrent.

In her bare feet, she walked across the deck and took the stairs, the same steps she’d used before. She trudged through the woods, her legs sinking into the tall snow. A low hum came from nearby, and she followed it. There, a green light came again, just through the trees. It was a circular glow, as if radiating around an object. She reached a section in the forest, now a clearing, as several trees had been knocked down by a mysterious force. The bright green light had disappeared. Before her was more snow. Instinct drove her forward. She sank to her knees and began to dig. Hard. Her hands grew numb, but she didn’t let it stop her. She drew strength from unknown reserves. Soon, her fingers tapped a solid surface.
Brooke brushed the flakes away and sat back on her heels, staring. Before her lay a strangely shaped object constructed of shimmery metal, almost liquid. It was in the outline of a marquis with an iridescent jewel-like object on each corner. She rose and stepped forward. Her hand encountered the cool metal. Beneath her touch, it grew warm, changing to a soft red hue. This was some kind of vessel, she gathered, but she didn’t know where it had come from.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She turned and saw Colin. Instead of appearing dressed, he was back in his pale blue skin. Her breaths grew short as he approached, and she stood to keep him from intimidating her.

He reached out and touched her cheek. The contact was cool, yet it sizzled with energy. “Too curious,” he murmured. “What will I do with you?”

“Do?” she whispered, though the word, for some reason, caused her mind to spin into visions she was sure weren’t her own. Images of their bodies rolling over sheets, moving gently together, made her heat up from the inside. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she looked up and saw that strange blue color flash once more.

When his mouth descended upon hers, it was cool at first until their mingled breaths warmed the experience. She opened to him without question, and felt his arms slowly encompass her. Her hands moved to explore his biceps, shoulders and nape, where his dark hair lay. Still, his body was cold, and she wanted to warm him somehow. Putting one hand to his chest, she found his heart as it throbbed in soft beats beneath her touch.

He groaned, speared a hand into her dark tresses, now a little damp from the falling snowflakes around them. She didn’t care. All she wanted was this man, his lips on hers, even on her body if he was willing.

“Not in a dream, marghitippe.”

“Dream?” She wet her lips as she pulled away a bit to look at him. He’d said that word before. “What language is that? Gaelic?”

“A dying language only. You wouldn’t know it.”

She nodded. “What does it mean, what you said?”

“Something like ‘my miracle’.”

Her breath caught. “So, you think I’m yours?”

Then his face changed, his features hardening into an emotion she didn’t recognize, and she was suddenly suffused with fear. Her heart kicked into a panicky rhythm. She didn’t know the first thing about him, and yet she’d been in his arms, allowed him to kiss her until she couldn’t think of a reason she should say ‘no’.

“Indeed. But the fault is not yours, sweetheart.”

He’d read her mind, she thought. But how?

He squeezed her arm, but not enough to hurt her. “Go. Head back to your cabin. You got lost somehow, like earlier.”

“I know what I saw,” she protested.

“And I pray you’ll forget,” he muttered.

She knew she should still be afraid, but something about the way his gaze moved over her face warmed her body. “Why don’t you want me now?”

He frowned. “My wanting you is not in question.”

Her gaze traveled across his exposed skin. “Who are you?” she whispered, suddenly fascinated by how different he was, from her, from anyone she’d met before.

His lips firmed into a thin line. “Go. Go now. I’ll not ask again.”

That’s enough of that, she thought. She wouldn’t be a victim ever again. She stepped up to him, satisfied when his eyes widened. “Or you’ll what? Rhett Butler my ass all the way back? I don’t think so.”

He frowned. “You humans speak so strangely.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to do this, marghitippe.”

“Do what?”

“This will hurt, and I’m sorry.” She tensed as his hand rested upon her forehead. Pain shot through her skull and her knees buckled. He caught her up in his arms. Brooke gazed up at him, into his black eyes, which now shifted colors, to the brightest blue she’d ever seen. Then the lights went out.

She jerked awake later, crying out, and nearly slipped off the sofa before her hand shot out to stop her momentum. The room was still warm, the fire crackling close by. She shivered from the effects of the vision.

Quite a dream, she thought. Clearly her reading material had gotten into her head. That must be why she also had a splitting headache. She squeezed her eyes shut, and began to shiver incessantly. Brooke drew the throw tighter over her skin. Curious, she reached inside her shirt to feel for her body temperature. Odd, she was cool to the touch like she’d snuggled up to an iceberg instead of the nearby flames, or maybe she’d come down with something.

Great. Just her luck. She was out in the middle of nowhere and she was getting the flu.

With a shrug, she stood up from the sofa, and headed in the direction of the bedroom. A weird tingle ran up her spine and she froze in mid-step. Brooke turned, and then looked back at the sliding glass doors. They were closed, but she still felt a chill in the air. It was so strange. She felt as if she was being watched, too, yet nothing was there.

After a moment, she shook her head. Maybe leftover paranoia from the dream. She forced herself to go to bed. As she climbed under the covers and her mind began to calm, she thought of that incredible kiss. Her body began to tingle in a strange fashion. She couldn’t deny Colin was attractive. Obviously, her subconscious wanted to torment her with it. But he was dangerous, she thought. He might never physically hurt her, yet she had no guarantees, just as she didn’t with anyone she dated or met.

She wanted to believe he had good intentions, and there was something unusual about the man, a mystery she couldn’t figure out. Still, she feared trouble was not far behind. So she would forget him. That wouldn’t be too hard, right? Hell, she’d turned down his offer to go out, if that’s what he meant earlier. So, he’d be easy to forget.

As her heart called her a liar, she cursed, turned over in the sheets and closed her eyes.