California Can Wait by Marci Boudreaux 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

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Reporter Andrea Davidson isn't running from her mistakes. There's no escaping the career-ending mess she fell into back home. But she is moving forward, and is halfway to a new life in California when someone breaks into her motel room. She's lost her computer and her dignity, but that's only the beginning of her newest problem: local news editor Graham Bradley.

Graham Bradley doesn't know a thing about the newspaper business. A widow with a promise to keep, he's got more than just his own personal welfare riding on this small-town paper. The last thing he needs is a pushy woman with a secret in her past and a vicious red pen throwing all his mistakes and insecurities front and center on his desk. Faced with an impossible choice, Graham hires Andi, but hopes she's not just the last-and maybe worst-in a long line of bad decisions. Saving the small-town Gazette is the second chance both Andi and Graham need.

But with bill collectors calling, Andi's past catching up fast, and the chemistry between them making work next to impossible, will Andi and Graham get the second chance they both desperately need? Or will their demise be the next big headline?

She shoved the edited paper in his direction. “I’ve made some notes. You should read them.”
He puffed his chest up and narrowed his eyes at her. If she wanted a fight, he seemed more than willing to give it to her. The thought didn’t bother her much. In fact, the image of going toe-to-toe with him excited her in a strange way. She had plenty of pent up anger that needed to go somewhere, and if he was so freely dishing it out, she’d gladly serve it right back.
Standing up from his office chair, Graham crossed his arms over his broad chest. He looked intimidating as he met her hard stare with his own, but she didn’t back down.
Instead, she again shoved the paper in his direction. “Look at my edits.”
“I don’t have time for this. I have a paper to put together. As you can see”—he gestured around the empty building—“I don’t have a lot of help.”
“So maybe you should take the help that’s being offered.”
A slow, condescending smirk curved his lips. “Is that what this is? Help?”
“Actually, it’s me knocking your ego down a notch or two and proving that you’re the one who doesn’t know shit. Look at it.”
“Christ.” Graham snatched the paper from her hand. “I’ll read this and then you are leaving.” He moved around the wing of the desk. “Would you like a cup of coffee while I pacify you?”
Andi smiled sweetly. “No, thank you.”
“Have a seat,” he said with a sarcastic tone. “I’ll be right back.”
Once he was gone, she looked at his computer screen to see what had him so enthralled he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She recognized the layout of the next day’s edition and scoffed with disbelief. “This is the work of the guy who thinks that I don’t know anything?” she muttered as she moved around the desk.
Sitting in his chair without hesitation, she gripped the mouse and went to work fixing his mess. She cropped and adjusted the brightness on the photos and then started skimming over the lead story so she could write a better headline.
Suddenly a hand grasped hers, nearly crushing her fingers into the mouse she’d been using. She looked at Graham’s left hand for a moment, inexplicably staring at his naked ring finger, before she turned her face up to his.
He emphasized every word he spoke. “Don’t do that.”
“Read.”
“I mean it. Do not mess with that.”
“You have this laid out all wrong. The headline needs to cover the photo as well as the story. And, speaking of headlines, these are crap. This entire design is crap actually. Have you ever even seen a newspaper? You don’t design it like a blog or a newsletter. There are actual rules that you should follow.”
He clearly wanted to tell her she hadn’t a clue how to layout a newspaper but narrowed his eyes again. “Who the hell are you?”
She swatted his hand away. “Read my notes while I fix this.”
Ten minutes later, Graham had finished reading and re-reading the red scribbles she’d made, and Andi had his front page starting to look like a professional newspaper.
Graham skimmed the content on his monitor. “You didn’t answer me. Who are you?”
“The newspaper fairy,” she answered dryly.
She stared him down when he crossed his arms over his chest again and the muscles in his jaw flexed. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the same daring look he was giving her. He didn’t back down, nor did she.
Finally, he sighed. “Does my fairy have a name?”
“Andi.”
“Andi what?”
“Does that matter?”
“Okay, Andi. Most of the corrections you made look good. But I knew there were errors,” he said when she grinned. “It’s really hard to edit your own work.”
“I agree. But that doesn’t excuse the layout.”
He opened his mouth to comment, but his objection seemed to fail as he glanced at the computer screen again. “I could use help.”
“Obviously,” she said.
“So. When can you start?”
She leaned closer to him, tilting her head as she looked up curiously, as if she didn’t understand him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m probably going to regret this, but I’m offering you a job.”
She laughed. “I didn’t come in here looking for a job.”
“No, you came in here hell-bent on telling me how to do mine.”
“Somebody had to,” she practically sang.
“I need someone who knows her ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to putting a paper together. I’ve been looking at that layout for almost an hour and still couldn’t get it right. It took you ten minutes.”
“The flag is too big.”
“You also graciously corrected my grammatical errors,” he said ignoring her criticism. “I need some backup, not just with editing and layout, but writing as well. I can’t run this paper alone, not to the standard that I want.”
“You don’t know that I can write.”
“If you can edit like this, you can write.”
She lifted her shoulder and let it fall casually. “I’m just passing through town.”
“How far are you going to get without that cash you had hidden in your suitcase?” He grinned when the defiant look on her face fell. “I was at the diner to interview you about the break-in.”
“Oh, so you don’t normally go around harassing defenseless women?”
“Defenseless?” He laughed. “Hardly. It seems you need the money as much as I need the help.”
The fun of the game faded, as did her smirk. “I’m just passing through, Mr. Bradley.”
Graham stared her down for a moment before he shrugged. “Right. That’s okay. You probably couldn’t handle the stress anyway.”
Andi creased her brow. “What?”
“The demands of publishing a daily paper are pretty intense. It takes someone who can work well under pressure.”
“And you don’t think I can?”
He was playing her with his feigned innocence, but damned if she didn’t feel herself falling for his manipulation when he said, “I’m just saying it takes a special breed to survive in journalism.”
“A special breed?”
“You know, long hours, lousy pay—”
“Constant scrutiny by inept editors,” she added.
Graham nodded. “There is that.”
“I think I can handle the job.”
“Great, so you can start right now by cleaning up the rest of the layout.”
“I didn’t say I was taking the job,” Andi clarified. “I said I can handle it.”
“Of course you can,” he said in a patronizing tone.
She guessed that the fire in her eyes was enough to burn him alive, but he simply smiled in a way that made her want to do nothing more than prove him wrong.
“And I’m sure that if you weren’t in such a hurry to get wherever you are going,” he continued, “you’d have me and this paper turned around in no time.”
“I’m quite confident.”
“But you have places to be. Where are you headed again?”
“I didn’t say.”
He nodded dramatically. “Right. Well, I’m sure you have some great life you need to get back to—”
“I do,” she said cutting him off. As she did, she wondered if he somehow knew she had nothing. Nowhere to go. No job waiting for her. No welcome party planned when she reached her destination. A destination that she hadn’t really figured out or planned for beyond California. She scoffed, more at her own situation than his words. “I’m sure you can find a preschooler with scissors and a bottle of glue who could use some candy money.”
He covered his heart with this hand. “Ouch.”
“Good luck, Mr. Bradley.”
“Good luck to you, Miss…Andi.”

   

Willow’s Way by Sharon Struth 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

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The breathtaking promise of the English countryside can lift even the heaviest spirits . . .

Willow Armstrong, the once-famous “Queen of Weight Loss” and president of Pound Busters, succumbed to stress eating after her divorce. Now the scandal of getting caught on camera binging on pizza, and the internet-wide mocking of her new curves, may destroy her career. Add in a business advisor who drained her finances, and Willow is out of options—until she learns she’s inherited a house in England’s most picturesque locale, The Cotswolds.

Willow’s trip across the pond to sell the property and salvage her company soon becomes its own adventure: the house, once owned by grandparents she never met, needs major work. Plus, single dad Owen Hughes, the estate’s resident groundskeeper and owner of a local tour outfit, isn’t thrilled about the idea of leaving . . .

Yet as Willow proceeds with her plans, she’s sidetracked by surprising discoveries about her family’s history–and with Owen’s help, the area’s distinctive attractions. Soon, she’s even retracing her roots—and testing her endurance—amid the region’s natural beauty. And the more she delves into the past, the more clearly she sees herself, her future, and the way home . . .

Willow swallowed the lump in her throat, took the luggage handle, and hoisted it up the steps. A low howl of a dog, followed by rustling from the nearby woods, made her pause.
She turned to the sound, laughing as a short legged, shaggy dog approached, its long tail raised high in the air, wagging like a flag of surrender. The cute canine bellowed another generous howl and came toward Willow; she swore it wore a smile—if a dog could.
Willow stepped off the porch. “Hello there, little fella.” She crouched down and extended her hand. “Come here.”
Woooowooowoooo. This time he offered a softer, less frantic cooing that warmed and welcomed. He swarmed her calves while she ran a hand along his thick, wiry fur, trying to figure out the breed. A body like a basset hound, with the same white, black, and tan coloring, yet his thick, wiry hair was very un-bassett-like.
She touched his long, silky ears. “You’re a cute little guy.”
With that he rested his short, thick legs on her knees, giving her the once over, too.
Long snout. Pronounced black nose. Smiling dark brown eyes peeked out beneath a mop of hair atop his crown-shaped head. A real cutie. He licked her cheek.
“Are you lost or just part of the welcome wagon?” He licked her again. “Then part of the welcome wagon it is.”
She checked his collar for ID. A metal tag read Henry and listed a phone number.
“Well, Henry, why don’t I call your—”
“Henry!” A child yelled. “Henry!”
The voice came from the direction of the same thick trees where the dog had exited.
“He’s over here,” Willow hollered back and a moment later a young girl of maybe five or six dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt emerged.
She marched over. “Oh, Henry.” She shook her head and her fawn-colored pigtails danced. “You are not always a good listener.”
The dog abandoned Willow. As he rushed to meet the girl, his back end swayed to one side, as if it couldn’t keep up with his front half. He ran right into the young girl, but she braced herself from falling and leaned over to give him an affectionate pat on the back.
“Henry! You can be such a bad boy.”
Henry licked her cheek, making the girl giggle. Willow couldn’t wipe the smile from her face if she tried. Besides the young girl’s contagious laugh, her accented voice and reprimand sounded so grown compared to American children.
Willow walked toward them. “What kind of dog is he?”
“Oh, he’s a petite.”
“I’ve never heard of those.” Willow squatted down and ran her hand along his low, long body. “Just a petite?”
“No. A Petite Basset Griffon Vendéen.” She pronounced the words with a beginner’s French accent.
“That’s a mouthful. Well, I’ve definitely never heard of that either.”
“That’s why we call him a petite, or sometimes a PBGV.” She cupped the dog’s snout in her hands and kissed the top of his head. “My mum used to breed them.” She frowned. “Now we only have Henry.”
“Oh, so she doesn’t breed them anymore?”
She quieted and stroked the dog’s long ears. “My mum passed away. But my daddy let me keep Henry.”
Sadness tore at Willow’s chest. To hear that such a young child had suffered the loss of a parent didn’t seem right. “I’m sorry about your mother. I lost mine, too. It’s hard.”
The little girl played with the dog for a bit then glanced up at Willow. “You’re American?”

   

The Forever Night Stand by Bena Roberts 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

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Sara's world shatters when she stabs her husband's lover at a party. The press has a field day, and Sara moves from Scotland and her life of riches back to her parent's modest home in West London. She ditches her married name of MacDonald and becomes Sara Sharma once more. With no friends and little money, her electronic prison anklet a constant reminder of what she left behind.

Living back at home with her eccentric Bollywood loving parents is a challenge. It gets worse when Sara realizes how badly she let them down. For the sake of her family, she considers having an arranged marriage. Could she be the perfect wife again?

Just as she thinks she might, her childhood love George Wright walks through the door. Memories of the past come flooding back, including how he betrayed her. Sara vows never to forgive him, however hard he mixes things up.

Unreliable Narrative Books
If you enjoy tarnished unreliable hero stories like those from Gillian Flynn, Chuck Palahniuk or Sara Lotz mixed up with romance, then you will enjoy Sara's story.
Sara’s wild energy and unique perspective of the world is engaging and endearing. She’s a very unusual person, confined in her parents’ home and a very ‘normal’ world.

The Forever Night Stand Delivers heavy hitting and thought-provoking fiction without diminishing the entertainment factor.

Joe’s name brought back the smell of his intestines. I popped two painkillers into my mouth. Fish-gutting feelings lingered like glue on my soul and were a sign I needed my medication. I hadn’t premeditated the act; I didn’t wake up planning to stab Joe. it just happened. Some people have a call to the wild or whatever. I didn’t. The stabbing was my private battle with the dark side. For five minutes the dark side won, and I picked up the pieces.
Sounds great, doesn’t it? Like a movie. That’s what the jury thought, too.
I was the actress and the courtroom my stage.
Getting the story straight, cross-examination, remembering what I wanted to forget.
Brain fog from chemotherapy.
That part, genuine.
My speech, nothing like the reality.
The papers called me “Knife-Crazed Wife.” The Daily roared, “Man Stabber.” Other tabloids shouted, “Psycho Wife Knifes Husband’s Lover.” My love of Hitchcock made me partial to the latter. The headlines exaggerated. The man I stabbed was Joe. My husband’s work colleague, a family friend, champion and my personal-shopper. I knew now; he was a fraud, and in case you are wondering, no. I didn’t kill him.
But Paul was the perfect husband and my group of friends were like blu tack. St. Elmo’s Fire on the outside, ideal life, excellent friends. I craved that image for the whole marriage. Paul was rich, our home a dream, but his personality was more like Billy the Kid, too scared of hospitals to dote on me or drive me to my cancer treatments.
Yes. Blasted humiliating, but I didn’t talk about it. I was the great wife for a very long time. Some dirty laundry needed to stay dirty and locked away in the closet.
The day of the party, everyone was dressed up. It was my afterchemo party, and for a few minutes, I did feel like blu tack. But then it started dissolving when Paul and Joe embraced.
They giggled.
The slow strokes…the way Joe caressed Paul’s side.
I didn’t think anything of the sensual nature, but the looks of pity from my friends as they touched turned my stomach more than the after-effects of the chemo.
With every gesture the pitying looks intensified.
The knife rack in the kitchen; alcohol bubbles pumped through my veins.
The vault door opened.
Blood stains seeped into my skin, they permanently marked the rest of my life. I said that in court. Yes, i said that in court because it sounded dramatic, the fact that it wasn’t right, irrelevant. No. That
is not fair, it was horrible, and the stains would be there. But I didn’t regret hurting Joe.
Lies. How would you feel if you lost your best friend?
Yes. I know I stabbed him, don’t mention that now!
My new dress was bloodier than a butcher’s apron.
My body flew towards Joe; it was the blasted chemo side effects that saved Joe’s manhood; the carpal tunnel syndrome swayed my aim. Again, i didn’t admit it in court, but my hands aimed for his penis. It was the despair.
I was hurt.
Nightmares would ravage my dreams for the rest of my life. Well, at least that is what I told the lawyers. I needed to apologize; unreliable, my story foggier than my brain.
My sentence loomed.
The judge said, “Diminished responsibility.”
Did someone just stand up? I saw a baseball cap and a hat, who was that?
I didn’t jump; I didn’t smile, but I did continue to act like the good wife. To perform and to look were two different things. I sat for the space of a few breaths and then pulled my beanie hat over my cold ears, my contoured face still elegant, despite my hair loss. My lawyers hugged, Paul smiled, but I chose to ignore him. Paul’s glamourous sidearm was gone. I was now the awful wife, the even worse friend. My feelings for Paul emptier than a deserted parking lot. Joe? i couldn’t go there, not yet.
The real courtroom wasn’t like the movies. I had to sit in court through summaries of the trial and the judge’s comments which reminded me of when I found out I had cancer; I was Elizabeth Taylor. Famous for being strong! All lies, and all the wrong reasons. When chemo did start and my hair fell out, I didn’t want to be a film star. The movie was on repeat, the unpaid extra; same thing now. The judge’s words boomed through the court.
“Mrs. McDonald. We have been lenient with you today because of your pristine past and excellent character witnesses. However, what you did was a ghastly attack on someone close to you. You are the one that will have to live with your actions ...”
No tears came, time stretched out in slow motion; a zombie, turning off and on. I could hear but not listen. instead, the pain in my hands quadrupled every second and the symptom of every chemo ailment resurfaced. Eyes sore, the follicles in my head stabbing, mushrooms living in my mouth, spots on my body, cystitis and the loss of feeling in my hands and feet. The pain worsened until the judge finally fingered his hammer.
“…We have considered the three months you were detained in Edinburgh. There are three remaining months of your sentence, and you will receive a prison tag or electronic ankle monitor.”
Bang. it was over; all eyes were on me.
My life signed and sealed. Shafted from Scotland to England. I would go back to my parent’s home and I would have community service and electronic monitoring. The movie star, the demure wife didn’t react, but inside my body screamed, Haven’t I been humiliated enough? Then my consciousness caved in. My poor parents.

   

Secrets? by A.L. Simpson 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (M/M Romance)

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Meet Kyle, a sexy, level-headed cowboy who also happens to be gay.

Luke is a police officer who was once the school football jock. He’s also gay.

After fifteen years apart, these men are set to meet again, but all is not as it seems.

Wires cross and misunderstanding has Luke running away, but Kyle has no intention of waiting another fifteen years for the man of his dreams.

Will these friends become lovers?

What is it that puts, Wendy, Kyle’s foreman in danger?

Why are the people Kyle cares about keeping Secrets?

CHAPTER ONE
KYLE
I gathered the reins on Grifter, my majestic black gelding and scanned the horizon one last time before turning toward home. I hoped I'd done enough to prevent the feral cats and foxes from taking down any more of the cattle. Electrifying the boundary fence had been costly and time consuming but, I couldn't keep Dufus in the barn for the rest of his days and couldn't risk losing my prized bull. The randy bull produced high quality calves which sold for a small fortune and it was what kept us making good money rather than just scraping by.
I galloped my mount across the open paddocks and felt the strength between my thighs as his muscles rippled and flexed. The horse's strides were lengthy, he loved to gallop flat out and he ate up the ground in no time. When I slowed to approach the barn, I noticed my foreman, Wendy, talking with someone. Someone who caused my groin to tighten and heart to beat faster. Even with his back to me, I knew who the curly blonde locks belonged to.
His shoulders were much broader than the last time I'd seen him, his hair longer and it lifted in the slight breeze. The jeans he wore were molded over one helluva sexy ass.
Wendy waved when she saw me approach and the man spun around to face me. My heart missed a few beats when he smiled, pressure mounted behind the zipper of the jeans as my cock thickened with interest.
"Luke Kelly." I barely whispered the words. It had been fifteen years since I'd last seen the man who'd haunted my dreams for more than half of my life. He'd gone off to university in the big smoke to study law and his family had moved away shortly after. I'd assumed Luke would be working in his father's legal practice in Brisbane. So, what was he doing here? It wasn't as if we'd ever been friends.
Wendy took the reins I held out and I dismounted. Luke took two long strides toward me, his hand outstretched. I knew it was a mistake the moment our fingers touched. A shudder cannoned through me and I fought to keep my composure as we shook.
"Kyle Walker, been a long time."
"Luke Kelly. It has been a long time. I guess you're working with your father, how's the legal business going? What brings you back here to Clearlea?" More specifically, my ranch.
"Didn't much like the business of being a lawyer so I joined the police force, worked out of the Gold Coast. I tired of being in the city though, missed being here in the country. I got a promotion to Detective Senior Sargent and requested a transfer here to take charge of your town."
"Congratulations, but why my place?"
"I heard your dad left the property to you and wanted to come by and say hi. I know we weren't friends or anything in school but, I always admired your ability to ignore those around you and get on with what you wanted to do."
"It wasn't hard to melt into the background when you're a country geek surrounded by football studs and cheerleaders."
"We never purposely ignored you, we…."
I waved my hand in the air. "Long time ago, Luke, water under the bridge. You still haven't answered me though, I find it hard to believe you only came out here to say hello. Was there something you needed?" Me? Please say me. Get your fucking head on the right way, Walker. Football Player. Cop. Straight!
I caught the glance he shot in Wendy's direction and it hit me. Straight guy remember and Wendy is one gorgeous woman. One very single, straight, gorgeous woman.
"Oh, sorry, you're here to see Wendy, I'll leave you to it."
I stepped away but was stopped in my tracks when Luke's large hand gripped the top of my arm.
"No, it's you I need to speak with. I kind of need a favor."

Tempted by the Viscount by Sofie Darling 💕 Pre-Release Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Historical Romance)

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London, April 1825

Lord Jakob Radclyffe left his past behind in the Far East. Or so he thinks until a ruthless thief surfaces in London, threatening to ruin his daughter’s reputation. With the clock ticking, Jake needs the scandalous Lady Olivia Montfort’s connections in the art world to protect his daughter’s future.

Olivia, too, has a past she’d like to escape. By purchasing her very own Mayfair townhouse, she’ll be able to start a new life independent from all men. There’s one problem: she needs a powerful man’s name to do so. The Viscount St. Alban is the perfect name.

A bargain is struck.

What Olivia doesn’t anticipate is the temptation of the viscount. The undeniable spark of awareness that races between them undermines her vow to leave love behind. Soon, she has no choice but to rid her system of Jake by surrendering to her craving for a single scorching encounter.

But is once enough? Sometimes once only stokes the flame of desire higher and hotter. And sometimes once is all the heart needs to risk all and follow a mad passion wherever it may lead.

An image of tonight’s hostess came to mind. Of her surface . . . Her eyes fluttering shut, lashes dark against her pale skin, parted lips reaching up, up, up . . . And her depths . . . The quality that made him want to forget his place, his purpose, himself, and dip his head and claim those lips until they were satisfied, sated. As if a mere kiss could accomplish satisfaction and satiety between them.
A soft swish of skirts whispered behind him, and a voice sounded in his ear. “Does it disappoint? Disappointment can leave one feeling decidedly unfulfilled.”
Jake looked right, and the room fell away. There she stood, throwing that word at him again. Disappointment. The idea that he’d disappointed her had gnawed at him since yesterday. And now she was throwing another word into the mix.Unfulfilled.
While he had no desire to leave this woman disappointed, he certainly didn’t want to leave her unfulfilled. In fact, under a different set of circumstances for their acquaintance, he wouldn’t walk away from this woman until she was thoroughly . . . exhaustively . . . fulfilled, satisfied, sated . . .

💕 To be released June 27 💕