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Excerpt from Boss (Trinity #1) by J. L. Lora w/a rafflecopter giveaway! @jtothelove @JLLora

BOSS

by J.L. Lora
Trinity, #1
Publication Date: March 6, 2017
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Cartel, Organized Crime

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SYNOPSIS:

Determined to avoid the violence that claimed her family and friends, Carissa Elliott flees her hometown with a dangerous plan. She has proof that Calum DeMateo killed her father—now she just has to catch him. To do so, she’ll have to transform herself from small-town ingénue to New York crime boss.

When her path crosses with Alec McLean, the sexy stranger with whom she once shared a steamy nightclub kiss, things take an unexpected turn. Alec heads his family’s criminal organization, the kind of made man Carissa should want nothing to do with. But he also has a plan to take down Calum, and the flames that flicker between them are irresistible.

Will their vengeful quests jeopardize their chance at lasting love?

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MUSIC PLAYLIST

 

EXCERPT #4

Alec looked somewhere over her shoulder, the flirting gone. Carissa didn’t get to fully inhale before he pushed her down behind the chaise lounge. She landed on her knees. Shock seized her heart, and she could do nothing but gasp before stuttering, “W-what the fuck are—”

A long, loud burst stopped her. Tufts of white foam exploded from the sofas in front them. Glass

rained down from the lights hanging above. A knot rose high in Carissa’s chest, lodging itself in her throat.

Without a doubt, a machine gun was going off.

People scrambled for cover in all directions and bodies hit the floor. The screams of the club-goers mixed with the music created a bizarre, hair-raising beat that spurred Carissa’s pulse. “Are they shooting at me or you?” she shouted over the racket of the weapon.

Alec reached beneath the hem of his pants and pulled a Glock 9mm out of a holster. “Me.”

He was a made man. It was in the familiar way he held the gun, the quick and thorough way his eyes darted everywhere at once, over the glass dance floor to the bar and the ceiling.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Another criminal.

Carissa reached down and pulled off her shoes, hooking the straps on her fingers.

Alec finally looked at her with a Tuesday-at-the-office, nothing out of the ordinary, expression, his gaze drifting to the shoes for a blink and then back at her face. “We’re getting out of here, Elvira. Just follow my lead.”

Ice flashed through her veins. “Again, it’s Carissa. Tell me what you have in mind.”

“When he finishes the round after this one, I’m going to fire at the disco ball to distract him. When I tell you to go, run past the bar as fast as you can. Keep your head down. Stay left and run to the exit. I’ll be right behind you.”

She looked around for the little door she saw earlier while trying to escape the rum-breathed guy.

She scanned past the bar area to the empty DJ booth still playing, the white laptop shot sideways, hanging by the cord. “The door by the DJ booth is closer.”

Alec frowned, looking at the closed door she pointed out. “We don’t know if that door’s unlocked.

Let’s just get the hell out.”

“Wait.” She hiked up her dress and nodded.

He spared her legs one last look, waited for the gunfire to cease, and pointed toward the hanging

lights. He pulled the trigger, shattering the disco ball. Millions of shards and sparks rained over the venue. Carissa took off, adrenaline surging through her veins. She ran past the people coming at her, even though the raining glass pricked her skin—getting out was her single-minded goal.

A movement, a glint of metal to her right, caught her eye. Everything around her slowed to a near standstill. She turned just in time to see Alec lift his gun and land a shot in the forehead of an armed guy.

She kept running and turned her eyes back to the exit.

Outside at last, the silence was deafening, and her breath rushed out in violent wheezes. The humid air stuck to her sweaty skin. There was no one outside, but more shots rang out. She scouted the area, frantically snapping her head left and right. The sound of footsteps grew louder. She scrambled toward nearby bushes and threw herself flat on the ground.

Alec ran outside. Relief coursed through her spine, and Carissa almost called out to him.

“Alec!” yelled a different voice.

He pointed his gun in the direction of the sound. Four men ran toward him. Carissa recognized the first as his brother Noah.

Alec released an audible breath and turned back to scan the area.

His spiky hair flattened by sweat, Noah looked light years away from the carefree Romeo the girls had met earlier that night. His hand rested on Alec’s arm. “You OK?”

Alec didn’t answer but turned to the other men. “How the fuck did this happen?” He screamed the words like a drill sergeant. “Where the fuck were you?”

He stood close to one of them, toe grazing toe, until the man said, “The shooter came out of nowhere.

It’s like he was waiting. I’m sorry, Alec. We took Noah and the other two girls out of the club. They went to catch a cab. We came looking for you.”

Alec looked at the man who spoke; his hand around the gun shook. “My little brother and I almost died because of your incompetence. And you’re sorry?”

Carissa pressed her fist to her lips. He was going to shoot them. She knew it. The seconds ticked by, and she wanted to cover her eyes. She didn’t want to watch.

Instead, Alec stormed toward an SUV, telling his brother, “Send someone to look for the girl I was with tonight. Her name is Carissa. She was with your girl.”

Blood barreled through her bloodstream, and her pulse exploded. He hadn’t forgotten about her. He had every intention of finding her. She wouldn’t let that happen. These men were made, organized. She was running from one mobster already, no way in hell was she about to tangle with another.

ABOUT J.L. LORA

J. L. Lora was born in Dominican Republic and came to the United States just at the age of 13. Her goal in life was always to be a writer. As a child, she told stories to her family and friends and wrote fiction about historic figures. Today, her stories explore the dark side of good characters, people living in the gray areas of life and how they cope with the cards life has dealt them. She loves strong heroines and their equally powerful love interests. She currently lives in Maryland while pursuing her dream of writing compelling, sexy, can’t-put-down stories about empowered, badass alpha heroines and take-your-breath-away alpha heroes.

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Cover Reveal for Personal Disaster (Billionaire Secrets #3) by Ainsley Booth! @ainsleyboothwrites

 

Title: Personal Disaster
Series: Billionaire Secrets #3
Author: Ainsley Booth
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Oh So Novel
Release Date: November 21, 2017
Blurb
 
She’s looking for a story about a billionaire. He’s the park ranger standing in her way.
Poppy has done her research on Marcus. She knows how connected he is—and she knows he’ll be a very reluctant source even if she can get him to talk. What she isn’t expecting is to fall head over heels in insta-love with a grumpy, bearded mountain man who wants nothing to do with her.
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Excerpt
Poppy stiffens on the passenger seat beside me, and despite my best efforts to glare straight ahead, I see her out of the corner of my eye. I see her glance down at her recorder, and turn it off. I see her jaw tighten, then relax, and I see her sigh and turn to look out the window. I see her cross her legs, flashing me another few inches of
soft thigh. 
Damn it. Now my jaw is tight, too. That’s not to say I don’t like it. I do, but it’s a performance.
A trick.
If a woman is going to slide her skirt up her thighs for me, it’s gotta be because she wants me to chase the hem with my tongue. Because she wants to get lost for a few hours, and part company with a mutually fond memory.
Not because she thinks I can be distracted by my dick.
She taps her fingers on her knee, then sighs and lifts her hand to her mouth. Her lips part, pink and shiny, and she sinks her perfect white teeth into the fleshy pad of her thumb.
This was a mistake. I can’t drag her around the park with me. Another few hours of this antagonism and who the hell knows what will happen?
Maybe you can chase her through the forest and convince her to let you peek up her skirt.
Not happening.
I slam on the brakes and jerk the truck off the path. She scrambles to hang on to her recorder, her skirt, her plan of seduction. I don’t care. I point to her door. “Get out.”
“Excuse me?” She spins around, looking back up the road. Yeah, we’re a few miles from where she left her car. Not my problem.
“Get. Out.”
“You get out,” she says hotly. 
Fine.
I leap out the driver’s side and stalk around to her door. More thigh greets me as she holds up her hand—clearly, she’s figured out I’m serious, and she doesn’t want me to touch her. Fine by me. I don’t want to touch her either. Not much, anyway. Definitely not in anger. I actually want to touch her way too much for a stranger who’s poking around my life.
I step back and cross my arms over my chest. “What are you playing at?”
She slithers to the ground and straightens her dress.

“Nothing.”
“With your little display in the truck.”
“What display?”
“Letting your skirt ride up. Biting your thumb. Turning off the recorder.”
Her eyes go wide as I list what she did. She stares at me, stock-still, then gasps again and shoves her hands hard against my chest. “You… you… you…”
I step back, and she shoves me again.
“You… beast!” She laughs, and shakes her head, but when her gaze collides with mine, there’s no humor there. Just angry, pissed-off woman. 
“Okay, let’s start at the top. I’m wearing a skirt. Yes. I have legs, that’s a fun fact, too. And you saw part of them. Whoop-di-fucking-doo, Ranger Boy. Second, if I was biting my thumb, it was to keep from criticizing your reckless fucking driving. And finally, I turned off my recorder because this interview is a waste of my fucking time. And if you think for a hot second that I might use my feminine wiles to get a story out of you, you’re a fucking asshole who deserves to be hunted down by paparazzi. I’ll make sure that happens just as soon as I get off this fucking godforsaken mountain.”
“You’re going to give up, just like that?” I move forward again, crowding into her personal space. “Lose your story?”
“There’s no story here,” she spits, her jaw set and her eyes glittering. “Not one worth writing.”
“Because I barked at you?”
“Because you leered at me.”
I had done that. Twice. Maybe three times. And I’d done it mostly to scare her away, but also a little bit because she itched at me. That itch now flares up, hot and red and annoyingly principled. “I was trying to scare you off.”
She laughs again without humor. “It worked, you pervert. How the fuck am I supposed to get back to my car now? Because I’m sure as hell not getting back in your truck.”
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Author Bio
Mom by day and filthy romance writer by night, Ainsley Booth is super grateful for caffeine, blueberry muffins, and yoga pants. She is the USA Today bestselling author of Hate F*@k and Prime Minister. She also writes sexy, small town and military romance as Zoe York.
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#Review and Playlist of Distracting the Duke (Wayward in Wessex #1) by Elizabeth Keysian w/a rafflecopter giveaway!

Distracting the Duke

by Elizabeth Keysian
Publication Date: February 20, 2017
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Select, Historical Romance

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SYNOPSIS:

Devonshire, England, 1820

Determined to avoid the strife-filled marriage of his parents, Marcus, the Duke of Ulvercombe, wants an amenable, biddable wife, and has set his cap for a certain pretty miss. Unfortunately, her vastly opinionated, frustrating, and lamentably beautiful guardian, Lady Clara Tinniswood, keeps distracting him, tempting him to consider a far more tempestuous—and passionate—union.

Recently widowed Lady Clara Tinniswood wants only to organize a quiet new life for herself, beyond the control of any man. But one shockingly unguarded moment while confronted by Marcus’s gloriously naked body catapults her headlong into a forbidden passion and threatens to undermine all her well-laid plans.

Even if Marcus abandons his sweet ideal and surrenders to his growing desire for Clara, there’s one unalterable issue which could destroy their hopes forever…

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MUSIC PLAYLIST for DISRACTING THE DUKE with commentary by author Elizabeth Keysian

  1. 1. The Kiss by Trevor Jones from Last of the Mohicans movie soundtrack–  it floats me away and I travel back in time to the Eighteenth Century
  1. What a Beautiful Day by The Levellers– catchy and uplifting
  1. The Firth of Fifth by Genesis– just an amazing piano instrumental
  1. The Bells of Rhymney by Oysterband– stirs the blood
  1. Mr. Blue Sky by ELO– a cheering reminder of the fun parts of my teenage years!
  1. No Man’s Land by June Tabor– I can’t sing this without a catch in my throat and a tear in my eye. 
  1. Amoureuse by Kiki Dee– evokes the magic of “The First Time”
  1. Ramble On by Led Zeppelin– departure and loss
  1. Blowin’ Free by Wishbone Ash– poetic and atmospheric
  1. Thank You by Led Zeppelin– eternal love
  1. Lady Fantasy by Camel– love, magic and atmosphere- something every good HEA romance should have!

EXCERPT #2

 

Clara crept softly across the carpet of pine needles until she came to where a rivulet split the dunes on its way down to the sea, and halted. She caught sight of Ulvercombe standing at the water’s edge with his back to her, hands on his hips.

She stepped aside swiftly, her heart beating hard. She would have to hide behind one of the dunes to avoid being seen, if he should turn round. Fortunately, the tide was still some way out and he was thus a considerable distance away, giving her time to make her escape if he spotted her.

Plucking off the old shawl she was wearing, she spread it over the grass-matted dune, then lay down on her stomach so only her head—with the telescope pressed to her eye—might be seen. Hopefully, with the waving sea grasses fanning across in front of her, she was well-hidden from any casual observer.

Eventually, she managed to locate Ulvercombe with the glass, and when she did her mouth dropped open in shock. In the time she’d taken to settle herself, he’d stripped off boots, stockings, jacket, and breeches, and now stood in nothing but his shirt, looking out to sea.

Clearly, the man had every expectation of being alone, and had no idea he was being covertly observed. It was early in the morning, it was his beach, his pine forest, his sand. She should back away and return to the house as quickly as possible.

A small attempt to move was made, but then he pulled his shirt over his head and she was transfixed.

The muscles rippled across his shoulders and she recalled, far too quickly, the feel of that hot body pressed against hers.

“Drat it!” The glass lens against her face had misted.

Crossly, she rubbed it with a corner of her shawl, and scanned the beach again until she found the duke.

The completely naked duke.

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Sweet Lord in heaven…”

It was not the splendid symmetry of his body, nor the very pleasing curve of his buttocks, nor even the straightness and supple power of his legs that had elicited her exclamation of shock.

It was the scars.

She hadn’t seen the backs of his thighs when he’d disrobed that day in his bedchamber. Now she could see them very clearly, and she could also see a complex pattern of pale, crisscross lines etched across the skin. They were scars, surely?

Had he received them in battle or in some horrible accident? Had he been taken prisoner and tortured by the French? Maybe he’d been involved in a fire and something hot had branded him thus.

The chance to observe the marks more closely was abruptly removed as the duke, who had been walking straight out into the waves, suddenly dove in with a splash and began swimming out to sea with deft, powerful strokes.

She shuddered. The water must be absolutely freezing. How could he stand it?

“Good morning, Lady Tinniswood. A very fine one, is it not?”

And so my love affair with historicals now is still intact.  Every historical that I have read lately has been awesome.  And they have all been so different from each other, too.  I won’t go into why historicals are so much a hit and miss with me so I’ll just share with you why Clara and Marcus just rocked in my book.

  1.  Clara – I can’t even imagine what she went through with her first husband.  The abuse, the horror, and then finally the ultimate betrayal.  Again, I can’t even…but what I truly liked about her was the fact that she would actually admit it to Marcus.  Of course, she felt shame but when she realized that Marcus was nothing like her dead husband learned to trust him, it was golden.  She also stood up to him.  He wanted someone biddable but what he got was her.  Brilliant dialogue when they were together.
  2. Marcus – What a revelation.  He was kind, a little bit backhanded (in a good way) and once his heart was set on Clara, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  I loved how he wound up testing her when it came to her fears but Ms. Keysian wrote it brilliantly.  Again, it is her dialogue between the characters that had me from the very first page.  Marcus had NO shame when it came to showing Clara his body.  The above scene had me giggling.  He never forgot that she was a widow but what he didn’t realize at the time was how traumatized she was from her first marriage.
  3. The smexy times are NOT plentiful but the build up is SO worth it.  Ms. Keysian had me fanning myself at times and that was before the dead was actually done.  Well played, well played.
  4. The secondary characters are wonderfully written.  I can’t wait to read about Ellie and Snetty.  Oh, my…If I had one complaint, I didn’t like Clara’s brother Phillip in the beginning.  He kinda came off as a shrew.  I understand the why but I still didn’t like him that much.
  5. The setting – I’m a sucker for England and especially the English countryside.  Like another English author I know, she knows what she writes about when it comes to the setting of the book.

Did I mention that not once, NOT ONCE in the book was bored with the ton.  This is a character driven novel about two people that shouldn’t fall in love with each but do.  The getting there is half the fun of the book and I have to say that I don’t even know what Clara wore in the book.  She had a bonnet, a shawl, and a thin summer cotton nightgown.  Why do I mention this?  Because I didn’t have to skip a bunch of paragraphs/pages with all the details that bore me to death.  Again, characters are key for me in a historical romance and Ms. Keysian wrote it that way.  Of course, I don’t think I’ll look at skinny dipping the same way again.

Do yourself a favor and buy this book.  Just for me, please.  You will not be disappointed at all.  It has all the romance of a historical, some family issues but now the filler that irritates so much.

 

ABOUT ELIZABETH KEYSIAN

Elizabeth Keysian felt destined to write historical romance due to her Cornish descent, and an ancestral connection to the Norse god Odin. Being an only child gave her plenty of time to read, create imaginary worlds, produce her own comics, and write sketches and a deplorably bad musical for an amateur dramatics group.

Three decades spent working in museums and archaeology fired Elizabeth’s urge to write, as did living on a Knights Templar estate, with a garage full of skeletons, a resident ghost and a moat teeming with newts.

Elizabeth lives near Bath in England with her partner and cats.

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