Monday, January 30, 2017

Blog Tour: FLIGHT LESS by L. Duarte

Title: Flightless
By: L. Duarte
Publication Date: January 23, 2017
Publisher: LD Publishing LLC
Genre: Romance
Cover Designer: Okay Creations
#flightlesstour
Everyone has a story. Mine went like this: Once upon a time, I met a boy. He was the most handsome fella in the land. I fell in love. Together, we had cosmic chemistry. I believed I would live a life of unending bliss. Until he broke my heart. Shattered it to pieces. And I lived unhappily ever after instead. The end. Or so I thought. Life found a way to reunite us. But to change that unhappy ending, I had to learn how to forgive. And my heart seemed unable to do so. This is a love story. But it is also, much more. It’s the story of how I coped with my shortcomings, my fears and rewrote my destiny. Everyone has a story. This is mine.
Check out these other amazing books from L. Duarte
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Chapter One
I stepped back. Not literally, just figuratively. I did that with every concert. I allowed my mind’s eyes to hover over me and my fans while I analyzed and dissected the unique relationship between us.
As I watched the multitude of people—a beautiful kaleidoscope of different races and social statuses—my heart, in utter bliss, roared.
The audience held their hands upwards as if in an offering or a request. I never knew which. In perfect synchrony, their arms rolled in waves like the swaying of a stormy sea. Their voices cried out my name, and the smell of their sweat and the heat of their mingled bodies emanated from them, unfurling to me like the sweet perfume of incense.
I held the mic near my motionless lips and stared at them. At that moment, I became one with thousands. At that moment, I took back from the crowd all the energy I had fed them. And their vibe made me high and drunk. It was my personal Nirvana. The kind of rapture that can only be attained through uttermost intimacy. A oneness I had only felt with one other person. A person who had severed that connection and shattered my heart into a million shards of pain.
I worshiped them as they adored me. The exchange of atomic energy contained nuclear power. I was drained from giving. They were wasted from receiving. But we were both impossibly happy and satisfied.
My motionless lips finally moved, uttering the final words for the night. The parting words. “Good night, Sydney!” I waved a hand back at them. “You looked beautiful tonight. All forty thousand of you.”
I bowed. They deserved my reverence. People had spent their time camped outside the venue waiting for a closer glance at me. They had spent their precious earned money to see my performance. They were worthy of my respect and gratitude.
Another wave of a hand. A kiss. Another bow. And I was out. Another show was done. Eight more to go.
I jogged backstage and gave the mic to Jeremy, my makeup artist, in exchange for a bottled water. He opened a portable case containing all the potions that would quickly improve my appearance for the meet and greet. 
Before I took a swig from the bottle, Clara, my assistant, brusquely interrupted my post-concert ritual. She snatched the bottle from my hand and returned it to a confused Jeremy. “Gray. With me,” she demanded, grabbing my elbow and urging me toward my changing room.
I glanced back at the stunned face of Jeremy. It was time for meet and greet with the VIP’s. I needed to freshen up. My makeup had all but melted under the stage lights.
Once inside the privacy of the room, I demanded, “What’s going on?”
She raised a finger and said, “Wait.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Instead, I swallowed the words. Clara was usually a chatterbox; her clipped words quickly clued me in that something was seriously wrong.
As I waited, Clara dialed a number on her phone. Her silence became as unnerving as the red glare of an alarm light.
“Betty, I have Gray,” Clara said. Wordlessly, she shoved the device in my hand. The door closed with a thud after she exited in a flurry of silent drama. 
“Mama?” I asked holding the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Puppy,” Mama said in a soft, almost regretful tone.
“What’s going on?” I asked. Silence filled the other end of the line, only increasing my concern. Mama knew I had just left the stage. She followed my tour from home. Minute by minute. It was unusual for her to call me so soon following a show.
“How was, um, the, um, concert?” she asked.
“Mama, did you call me to ask how the show went?” I furrowed my brows and every hair on my body stood at attention. Mama knew my routine during a tour. After a performance, I had a brief meet with fans and then I would go on hours of silence to rest my vocal cords. Although she knew she could call me at any time, she never called until at least ten hours following a show.
“Mama?” I prodded after a long silence.
“I have cancer,” she said bluntly.
The phone connection was perfect. No static. But Mama’s words hummed in my ear with a tunnel-like quality. Distorted, altered, garbled. My mind, however, had remained sharp and alert. Without much thought and after a brief pause, I uttered the words, “I’m coming home.” I hadn't said those words in over a decade. Somehow, they didn't taste as foreign as I had imagined they would.
  ***
“Gray,” I said. The word hovered on my tongue, saturating my taste buds with an acrid taste. “Gray,” I repeated, letting it roll off my tongue. I did that a lot. It was my name.
Often, I mused about my name. It hadn’t been given to me because it was fashionable. Nevertheless, it had a history. My history.
When I was little, I liked to fancy its origin. The sky, I would think, was painted gray the day I was born. I loved the theory. The unattainability of the infinite mass of gray made it a great namesake. Whenever gray clouds hovered in the sky, I would lay on my back and stare at them, dreaming that when I grew up, I would build an enormous ladder, climb it, and touch the gray painted dome. It was all, of course, a foolish child’s dream, born out of vain imagination. I wasn’t born during the day, nor was the sky gray. And it was most definitely not the inspiration behind the choosing of my name.
I was born in a graveyard. Serene Hills Cemetery, it was called, though its surface was flat. It was a fall night, October 20th, approximately 11 pm.
They found me covered in vernix. I used the term ‘they’ loosely. A dog found me. A female German Shepherd mix that went by the name of Sunshine. Her fur was golden. Shiny like sun rays. I had a newspaper cut-out of her. It’s black and white, but it described her that way. In the shot, she looked straight at the camera, two vivid round eyes dotting a long and alert face. She had the knowing stare of someone who was aware she had done a good deed.
Obviously, I don’t recall the details surrounding my birth. I was an infant. But I had Mama tell me the story so many times, which after a while, the images ingrained in my brain like the roots of a tree embedded in the fertile soil. They became so real in my imagination that it felt as if they were my recollections.
I was a born a preemie. Weak, small, and blotchy-faced. I was skin and bones with a mop of black spiky hair, and a bad case of a cold.   
A miracle, they called me. But I knew I was no wonder. I happened to have the perfect concoction of healthy lungs and a loud cry. These, and the sharp canine sense of hearing and smelling had saved me. I didn’t believe in miracles. Not anymore.
When they found me, decay from the trees covered the ground on a fascinating palette of colors—an array of red, yellow, purple, brown, orange, golden, bronze.
I used to question why the leaves change colors and fall off the branches. According to a scientific explanation, leaves are a weak and feeble part of a plant. So, before the weather gets severely cold, the trees should toughen up to protect themselves. Or simply dispose of the leaves, the weak part.
Personally, I believe they turn colors before falling as revenge. A personal vendetta. And for that I applaud them. They turn their death into a poetic and alluring sight. That line of thought made me believe death was beautiful. It fascinated me. It’s more interesting than birth, although similar.
I had been abandoned under a pile of dead foliage. According to the police investigation, it appeared my birth mother had buried me under the leaves. Hid me. Like a criminal attempting to cover its tracks. Supposedly, I spent the night under a cocoon of leaves. The tree’s decay was soaked with blood and amniotic fluid.
According to Sunshine’s owner, they were walking on the sidewalk by the cemetery when she heard a whizzing sound. Sunshine’s owner discarded the noise as being the cry of squirrels.
Sunshine didn’t. At odds with her sweet nature, she became agitated and broke loose. She squeezed through a small gap in the fence and disappeared between the gravestones, leaving her owner in a frenzy.
Less than a minute later, Sunshine returned. Her mouth muzzled around my small waist, my umbilical cord dragging, rattling the decayed leaves.
I found my story fascinating, unique. Or so I told myself whenever I got teased at school.
The hospital staff called me the Graveyard Miracle. Soon after, Gray for short. It stuck.
I spent three months in the hospital. That’s where Mama worked. The graveyard shift. She fed me. She bathed me. She caressed my skin. “My heart had not a chance. It fell madly in love with you,” she said, whenever she told me my story. Her pale hand, dotted with freckles, caressing my black, straight hair.
 When I became her child officially, she quit the night job. “I had brought home my very own Graveyard Miracle.”
She found a day job at a pediatric clinic, occasionally helping at the hospital for extra income. She continued working at the clinic throughout my childhood, adolescence, and after I left home. She remained there until cancer said, “No more.” Until cancer said, “I want your time. From now on, you are going to dedicate every waking hour to me. I’m egocentric. I want it all. I want your flesh and the total sum of your soul.”
That’s why I was there, sitting in the back of a limousine Clara had rented to pick me up from JFK airport and take me home.
“When should I schedule your flight to LA?” she had asked. “Only a one-way ticket for now,” I responded.
32 Lorelai Lane, my childhood home. It was a small Victorian-style house, built in 1929. The colorful foliage of a maple tree and an oak tree framed the dwelling as if it was extracted from the pages of a fairy tale book. When I was little, I used to fancy my house was lovely. The most enchanting place in all realms. Staring at the house, I discovered that I still thought that. It was the most magical place in the world because it was the place that humans refer to it as ‘home’. And home is a thing of fairy tales. Rare and pure.
The car door was wide open, awaiting me. I climbed out. The driver stood straight as a pole. His hands perfectly folded in front of him, his face impassive. I wondered how long he had stood there, waiting for me, questioning my sanity. The luggage was lined up at the front porch. His face remained expressionless when I pulled a generous tip from my purse and handed it to him. “Thank you,” I murmured.
He drove off, the sound of the engine trailing off into the quiet street. It was late at night. The crisp air smelled of burnt wood and autumn, reminiscent of bonfires and fireplaces.
I crossed the stone path leading to the front steps.
The hinges of the front door squeaked, and Mama slowly appeared as light spilled out from inside the house. She leaned against the doorframe, cocked her head, her eyes fixed on me. She knew me so well. She knew I needed the time.
I peered up, carefully examining Mama’s face. It had been only two months since I had last seen her, but she appeared decades older. Even under the porch’s pale yellowed light, I could detect the lines circling her mouth. Small bags sagged under her eyes, and her plump skin appeared loose, dripping like melting wax. Her hair showed inches of gray and her usual square and proud shoulders were smaller, fragile. But what got my attention the most were her eyes. Their vivid green had turned opaque.
The grief and sorrow in her stare set my feet in motion, and I climbed the steps.
When mama stepped forward, the old wooden floor groaned and creaked under her feet. She came to a halt at the top of the stairs. Her lips curved into a small smile, and her arms spread open in an inviting hug.
As I stepped forward, my legs felt wobbly with the weight of so many years of absence.
I have found that there is only one thing better than reading, and that is writing. I am always torn between the two. I am also frequently torn between chocolate and coffee. However, I emphatically do not like the month of February, lies, and flies. For me, bravery is defined by the courage to do what we fear the most. I live in Connecticut with my husband and two children. Drop a few lines. I would love to hear from you.
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L. Duarte is offering a $50.00 Amazon Gift Card to one lucky winner!

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Book Blitz: HER SOUTHERN TEMPTATION by Trish F. Leger


Title: Her Southern Temptation Series: Legacy Falls #1
By: Trish F. Leger
Publication Date: October 5, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance
#hersoutherntemptationblitz
A transplanted northerner, new to the south... Allie Magill is familiar with the hard knocks of life. The widowed mother of a four year old, Allie has landed in the South where the air is thick with humidity, the nights are hot, the men are honorable, but even hotter. But business as usual is stilted when she meets the new construction company owner, Jake Warren. Now it's all Allie can do to keep her hands to herself and not put her job, or heart, on the line. A southern man whose world is rocked by a northern beauty... Jake Warren knows little about things up north, but he does know Allie Magill is unexpected. The liaison for a hotel chain, Allie enters Jake's work life to make sure business goes as planned. But once he gets a taste of Allie, and takes a peek behind that closed-off northern exterior, all bets are off. He knows he has to make her see that life and love in the south flows differently and he hopes once Allie sees how sweet surrender can be, she won't be able to turn him down. Battling ghosts from her past, Allie will have to learn to accept Jake's way of life and win the heart of her southern temptation. 

When he stiffened against her, and let out a soft growl against her ear, Allie swore steam must be rising up between them. It was almost too much to bear.
“Damn, honey…”
His words were succinct, to the point, and had the same effect on Allie as a bucket of ice water. She tore herself from his arms, and like the coward she was, walked calmly past the crowd of people, out the building, to her SUV parked outside.
The night air was hot, of course, and did nothing to stop the burn that had come over her like a summer heat wave. She was breathing heavily, her heart tripping in her chest, and her only thought was to get home…NOW. She would be better able to analyze everything once she was safe in her own home with her daughter.
“Oh God, oh God…”
Don’t think about it.  It was one dance. Only one, and only . . . the hottest experience you’ve had in the past four years. Hell, maybe even your whole life.
Allie shook her head. No, she would be honest with herself. She and Ryan had never been like a match to a flame, but there had been some passion, mostly love, between them. But nothing at all like the living entity of combustible energy that had been growing between her and Jake on that floor.
With shaking hands, she got her keys out of her little clutch purse, and was about to open her door, when Jake’s voice interrupted her escape.
“Allie, honey, wait a sec…”
Oh God. Don’t turn around.
But she had to, didn’t she? If she pulled the cowardly lion act now she would never be able to face him again. They had to maintain some semblance of a business relationship. It had to be done. Gritting her teeth, she turned, and realized he was closer than she had originally thought.
The night clung to him lovingly, as Allie had been doing so moments before. She couldn’t see his face, or any hint of his expression. She just saw a large, looming Jake filling up her vision.
“Look, when you did what you did, it just caught me off guard, and I’m not about to apologize for my body’s reaction to something so simple.”
“Simple?” Her body began to quake and vibrate. He thought that lick had been something simple? That lick had rocked her little world, damn it!
“Well, maybe not so simple, you’re right. But it did surprise me, in a good way.” His voice was deeper now, slight amusing undertones hidden in there as well. And as Allie watched, he moved closer. She countered, moving back as well, her back hitting the door of her SUV. She was well and truly trapped.
There still was a slight shadow where his face was, so Allie had no idea what he was thinking, but she knew what she was feeling, and that burning, incendiary feeling was back. Her lower body erupted into little white hot flames, singeing her nerves as they awakened, tripping along her extremities.
“This isn’t a good idea Jake, you know it. I know you do.” Her voice sounded slightly raspy to her ears.
“Ah, darlin’, I know that, but when has anything that felt this good, been bad?”
And with no other warning, he invaded her personal space, and silenced all of her protests, swooping in like a large shadow. His mouth was on hers, his lips softly coaxing, softly nibbling at first her top, then lower lip. No other part of his body touched hers, except for his mouth. His hands were braced on both sides of her head on the vehicle. Allie was stunned, shocked into submission for the moment, and oh so glad that all she had to contend with was his mouth. She didn’t know if she could handle any other part of him touching her.
She inhaled Jake into her, realizing everything about him was delicious, including his lips. Her fingers tingled, wanting to reach out and grasp him, but she didn’t, she kept a death grip on her keys and clutch, not willing to make an ass of herself with this man.
He moved slightly back, canted his head and came back for more, this time licking the seam of her lips with his tongue. Oh yes… Allie’s breath left her mouth, only to be caught up by Jake. He let out another soft little growl then his body came down on hers, pressing her against the car, while his hands came into play, tearing through her hair on each side of her head, holding her in place while he seduced her mouth with his.
Oh God, he tasted so good, the alcohol on his breath only adding to his earthiness as Allie gave in and let her tongue swipe against his. His large body shuddered against hers, while his leg slipped in-between. The hardness of his thigh right in the place where she needed it most was a jolt to her system.
She pushed back, snapping out of their kiss, and catching his attention instantly.
Her hands came up to her lips, wanting to hold onto the taste and warmth of him that was still there, but the shaking took over her. She shook her head back and forth slowly.
“No, no, this shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered.
He tore his hands through his hair. “Allie girl, I’m sorry…”
“No…” That’s the only word that would come from her mouth. Allie kept shaking her head and turned her back, fumbling with her keys, finally unlocking the door, she climbed in and revved the engine.
Not once did he try and stop her as she threw her car in reverse and pulled away.
Trish Leger lives in South Louisiana and also has a full time job--other than the writing. She is married and from a loving, boisterous family. Since food is so important in the south, it is also important to her, ranking right up there with writing, reading and watching movies. Writing with a strong sensual bent, intent on capturing the growing relationship between a couple falling in love, Trish adds warmth and emotion to her stories. She is a fan of everything from Drama to Historical Romance. Please visit her on Facebook under Trish F Leger-author. Or email her at wackycajun@hotmail.com
Social Media Links
Twitter - @leger_f
Instagram - Cajunauthor
Trish is offering an E-book of Her Southern Temptation to one lucky winner!

Monday, January 23, 2017

Book Review: THE FORLORNED by Angela J. Townsend



The Forlorned

Title: The Forlorned
Author: Angela J. Townsend
Category/Genre: Adult Horror
My Star Rating: 4/5

Goodreads blurb:

 When Tom Doherty first laid eyes on the lighthouse he knew it was damned.
An advertisement lured him to the island, offering a job renovating the old lighthouse and ramshackle buildings. What he didn't know was that he was the only applicant. None of the locals wanted the job – no one dared.
Isolated and alone, Tom soon discovers why. Messages from disembodied voices; ghostly visitations and escalating horrors draw Tom deeper into the island's evil past—a darkness that forces Tom to unbury the truth and bring demons of his own into the light.


My Review:

This book's premise was down right enticing to me.  Pirates, curses and ghosties, oh my!  An exciting and thrilling read, The Forlorned is action packed and will keep you on the edge of your seat.  Personally, I wouldn't categorize it as horror; I'd put it more toward the paranormal genre.  Everything unfolds exactly as I imagined a haunting would in an old lighthouse damned by spirits of the past.  The main characters were endearing and had great backstories to put them right where they should be for the story to take off.  That said, the dialogue was pretty far from believable.  It felt scripted at best, forced at worst.  The romance didn't work for me, either.  In fact, I think the book would've gotten along just fine with out the girl.  She didn't add much to the story line, in my opinion.  

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Release Blitz: FOREVER FRENZY by Casey L Bond

Title: Forever Frenzy
Author: Casey L Bond
Genre: YA Horror
Editor: Stacy Sanford
Cover Design by Cover Me Darling
Cover Photography by Pink Ink Designs
Cover Models: Daniel Wells and Becca Bryant
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
Everything in Porschia Grant’s world was finally normal; the daily routine peppered with moments of happiness, sadness, and monotony. She longs for those moments now, because her entire world has been wrecked, and she didn’t even see it coming.
An evil escaped the underworld, killing someone she loves. It has to die, and she wants to be the one to end it.
But can Porschia live with herself if she takes on the curse she once hated? Will the consequences of her choice crush her?
How will she feel when someone from her past, someone she loved so deeply, enters her life again?
Tage has been guiding his son from the afterlife. He’s always been a part of Seth’s life, even if Porschia didn’t know the extent of his involvement. He’s watched over both of them from afar. Close, but never close enough.
Now they need him, and he’s about to risk everything to show her how much she still means to him.
For some, love never ends and frenzy is forever.
Award-winning author Casey L. Bond resides in Milton, West Virginia with her husband and their two beautiful daughters. When she’s not busy being a domestic goddess and chasing her baby girls, she loves to write young adult and new adult fiction. You can find more information about Bond’s books via the following links: 
Forever Frenzy: Coming Soon
Keep reading for a sneak snippet of one very angry Porschia Grant ...
Surprise lifted her brows.
“I didn’t expect—”
I was in front of her in an instant, backhanding her to the side. She stumbled, grabbing her bleeding lip and staring at me with contempt.
“You didn’t expect me to do what? Protect my family? That was your first mistake.”
She scoffed.
“The second was underestimating me.”
- Copyright Casey L. Bond

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Book Blitz: BITTEN by Amanda Pillar

  Title: Bitten Series: Graced Series #2
By: Amanda Pillar
Publication Date: January 10, 2017
Genre: Urban Fantasy/PNR
#bittentour
The city of Pinton has never been safe…and now a serial killer is on the loose. Doctor Alice Reive is the city’s coroner, and she’s determined to help find the murderer. Enlisting the assistance of the Honorable Dante Kipling and city guard Elle Brown, they race to track down the killer, before another victim dies. Hannah Romanov – Dante’s missing twin sister – has spent hundreds of years living on an isolated mountain. But her quiet life is thrown into chaos after she discovers a baby left in the wilds to die. Hannah will do anything to ensure the infant’s survival, even if it means travelling to the worst place in the world for her – Pinton. The second full-length novel in the stunning Graced series is perfect for fans of Nalini Singh, Richelle Mead, and Anne Bishop.
Barnes & Noble - https://goo.gl/vdpi6V
Google Play - https://goo.gl/LmD0oG
Graced Series #1
Barnes & Noble - https://goo.gl/C5Qf6N
Google Play - https://goo.gl/0YYBnn
Amanda Pillar is an award-winning editor and author who lives in Australia, with her husband and two cats. Amanda is the author of the Graced series, featuring the novels Graced and Bitten, and the novellas Captive and Survivor. Amanda has had numerous short stories published and has co-edited six fiction anthologies and solo-edited two. She works as an archaeologist.
Social Media Links

Thursday, January 12, 2017

BLUE TIDE by Jenna-Lynne Duncan

Isolated title - Blue Tide

Today is the new release of BLUE TIDE by Jenna-Lynne Duncan. BLUE TIDE is an award-winning, stand alone, young adult adventure on the high seas. Start your adventure today by grabbing a copy hot off the press in paperback format or begin enjoying it today on your e-reader, phone, or tablet.

BLUE TIDE by Jenna-Lynne Duncan

Release Day: January 9, 2017
 
Seventeen-year-old refugee Lux plots her escape from the island where her family is stranded, denying that her home was lost in the Floods. Lux is determined to get her old life back by any means possible. But before her feet even leave the sand, she's taken hostage by a vengeance-driven pirate nearly as young as she is.
Her capture is the key to his freedom...
Captain Draven's scarf veils more than his face. Underneath, he struggles between morality and survival. When Lux sees deeper into his motivations, she's torn. She can commit mutiny to escape to a home that may no longer exist, or she can try to help Draven escape the clutches of the person responsible for the deaths of half the world. Staying would mean entrusting her life to a pirate. Helping Draven would mean losing her heart to one.
Ebook - Blue Tide 5
START READING BLUE TIDE TODAY:

ABOUT JENNA-LYNNE DUNCAN:

Jenna-Lynne Duncan is the author of the popular Young Adult series Hurricane, Tempest, and Aftermath, as well as the forthcoming Blue Tide. Jenna graduated with degrees in Middle Eastern Studies, Political Science, and International Studies. BLUE TIDE was the recent winner of RWA’s Romancing the Lake contest. She loves to hear from readers. She welcomes those to contact her on Twitter, @JennaLynneD, or her website: www.Jenna-Lynne.com
Follow Jenna-Lynne Duncan for behind the scenes information on BLUE TIDE.