Tuesday, April 16, 2019

NEW RELEASE: Nothing Else Matters by Peri Elizabeth Scott

NEW RELEASE from Peri Elizabeth Scott!

Nothing Else Matters 
by Peri Elizabeth Scott


Claire and Liam had a good thing going until he walks out of her life. Being dumped without warning is devastating enough, discovering she isn’t pregnant leaves her without even a part of him. Withdrawing from everyone, she moves to another city and immerses herself in work, the better to forget Liam. Not that it’s working. Claire is a one-man woman, to her despair.

Back stateside after an unexpectedly long deployment, security contractor Liam Cafferty has accepted the truth: walking out on Claire makes him a coward. Thinking it for the best, given his dangerous profession, doesn’t cut it. She should have been given the choice. With the biggest heart of any woman he’s known, he’s hopeful she might take him back and makes it his new mission to convince her.

Claire must decide what matters: her pride or taking another chance on Liam—and love.



Excerpt:

The streets were full of people as she used her phone to arrange an Uber. Small groups with youthful faces, couples, and the occasional single individual moved along, their destinations unknown but likely the restaurants that crowded downtown, or maybe a club later on after dusk fell. The camaraderie left her cold, and with some desperation to escape, she scanned the curb for her lift.

Maybe she was indeed crazy, choosing to cut herself off from everyone, cutting ties with her old life, all to forget Liam. Because, newsflash, it wasn’t working. She was like one of those historical romance novel heroines who languished and withered into old age after losing their beaus. Whatever empty spaces that opened up in her head, past all her attempts to fill them, Liam snuck in.

While she waited, she opened her messages, trying to shut out the people and noise around her that were reminders of a different life. There weren’t many on the phone. She had no one local to give the number to, outside of work, sad commentary. She was more like one half of those werewolf or vampire couples who wasted away without their mate.

Joanne’s number came up several times, and there was also a text. Hoping nothing was wrong, she opened it.

Haven’t been able to reach u b/phone and u haven’t responded to vms. Assuming u r busy but u should know Liam is looking for u. Call me!

Suddenly lax fingers nearly let the device slip to the pavement, and she tightened her grip. Rereading the text, she remembered to breathe and swayed on her feet.

“Claire?” His familiar voice, hard on the heels of Jo’s text, was surreal. Had she conjured him?

She resisted the urge to spin wildly and shriek at the top of her lungs. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t prepared. How was this happening?

His SUV was nose-in to the curb, the back end blocking traffic and already, impatient drivers were honking. But her attention was on the tall, broad-shouldered man rounding the hood.

“Claire.”

He hadn’t changed at all. Unless one considered the burnished skin and a leaner look. Her stare took in his appearance in minute detail, and something in her chest lurched his way, even as her feet tried to carry her in the other direction.

Hand shaking, she held it up as if to ward off an advancing horde and shook her head. “Go away!”

Find Nothing Else Matters here:

Friday, April 12, 2019

COVER REVEAL: Safe in the Hitman's Arms by Kait Gamble

Kait Gamble's brand of sexy is back with 
SAFE IN THE HITMAN'S ARMS releasing April 25th!



Their world is one of shadows and lies.

Maxim Ivanov had never met a person who didn’t want something from him and wasn’t willing to lie to get it. There was only been one person he’d had any honest interactions with—Aida Roussel—but only because her time and attention was bought and paid for. Well, he is ready for more with her.

Aida isn’t without a few secrets of her own but Max is the only one who’s ever made her want to share them. She knows who he really is behind the debonair fa├žade, but how can she tell him the truth about herself when she needs his unique talents? Without his help against the madman chasing her Max stands to lose more than he realizes.

Maxim would do whatever it takes to protect the one source of light in his life, but what happens when the lies surface?


About the author:

An inveterate traveller, Kait has set foot on three continents and has the other four on her bucket list (yes, even Antarctica). Until she can see them all, she writes romances that take readers to far flung locales, often to places she’s been or hopes to one day go. For now, she’s settled in England where she spends most of her time plotting, scribbling ideas on every available scrap of paper and trying out dialogue on her cat.  

Find Kait here:

Sunday, March 31, 2019

Evernight scores in the LR Cafe's "Best of Awards" ...


WINNER of BEST ANTHOLOGY: 

These nine hand-picked stories are hot enough to curl your toes...

Caleb by Loralynne Summers
Crossing Boundaries by Rose Wulf
Guarding What's Hers by Kait Gamble
The Librarian and Her Dragon by Doris O'Connor
Eagle's Seduction by Elyzabeth M. VaLey
Make Her Purr by Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino
Claiming the Coyote by Roberta Winchester
My Very Soul by Tesla Storm
Bearly Caught by Sarah Marsh

Best LGBTQ Book
Runner Up: 

Best BDSM/Kink Book
Honorable Mention: 







Saturday, March 30, 2019

The Beast in a Suit by Elena Kincaid is TBR's Book of the Month!



"I loved this twist on a classic tale. The chemistry between Emeline and Adam is so damn sexy! I really couldn’t put this book down! The Beast in a Suit is a must read!"

Click here for the Full Review!


Find Elena Kincaid here: 
Website | Facebook | Twitter: @elenakincaid1

CHAPTER ONE PREVIEW: (Not Quite) The Same Old Song by Lindsey Ouimet


(Not Quite) The Same Old Song by Lindsey Ouimet
©2019 Lindsey Ouimet
Chapter One

I was going to kill my brother.
Yep. Kill, as in maim brutally until he succumbed to death’s cold, dark embrace. Because a slow death wouldn’t do. No, he deserved to suffer. I didn’t know much about Chinese water torture, but I could learn. And the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the one he’d promised to fix months ago, would do the trick.  A couple of hours of that would surely drive him insane. His brain might even start to liquefy. Maybe dribble out of his ears a bit.
I wondered if that would be painful enough. Or painful at all, considering he’d killed most of his brain cells already, taking hit after hit of whatever his crackhead friends put in front of him.
I hoped wherever he was at that moment, whatever he was smoking was laced with some bad shit. I didn’t even feel bad thinking it. This always happened. He’d disappear, lifting cash from Mom’s purse and leaving her sick with worry instead of anger. One day turned into two, three, eight at the most. He’d stumble in eventually, visibly worse for the wear, but with a sheepish I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry, Darcy. I promise I’ll be better from now on smile plastered on his face. And then he’d do it all over again a couple of months later.
Getting clean was part of Quinn’s regimen. Staying clean was a different story.
Eventually, he’d fall back off the wagon. He’d get picked up in the alleyway behind a bar or hanging out at one of the other trailer parks in town, the ones far worse than our own. He’d spend time in the county jail but would never be dumb enough to call us from it asking for bail. He knew we wouldn’t have it. Mostly because he’d pocketed what we did have to score whatever shit landed him there in the first place, but also because … well, the residents of Whispering Oaks Mobile Home Community weren’t exactly rolling in dough in the first place. And even though Mom had started doing clients’ hair in our poorly lit kitchen on the side, we were barely getting by.
Really, he was no worse off than half of our meth-addicted town, but it was bad enough to make Mom cry at night when she thought I couldn’t hear her. Our trailer walls were paper thin though, and I hadn’t slept soundly since I was thirteen and woke up to find one of my brother’s acquaintances rifling through my dresser drawers at three AM. Junkies were the goddamned worst.
Beating the snot out of him always crossed my mind. I’d tighten my fists at my sides when he inevitably made his reappearance, or when I’d find him sitting at the kitchen table in the mornings before I left for school, smiling nervously as he pushed a plate of apology pancakes—dusted with powdered sugar the way I liked—in my direction.
Every time, I’d bite my tongue and forgive him. Every time, I’d wonder if one day those apologies would actually mean something. I hoped they would.
Whatever apology he offered this time, though, it was going to have to be good. And it damned well needed to mean something.
The guitar case slipped in my sweat-slicked hands and I nearly lost my hold on it as I pushed through the heavy glass door, the bell jingling to signal my entrance to Addams Gold & Pawn. My fingers tightened around the handle of the battered and beaten-to-hell case. The leather was cracked, torn, and covered in stickers from dozens of different bands—some long-forgotten, others legendary. And it held my favorite thing in the world. When I was little, my father let me have the honor of opening this case for him each time he played the guitar inside it. Later, he taught me how to play it myself. Letting it go, even temporarily, was going to hurt like a bitch.
I straightened my shoulders and walked to the front counter.
This time… Well, this time I really was going to kill my brother.
****
“I know what this guitar is worth.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d found myself at this counter. Even though it was embarrassing and I’d die if anyone from school ever saw me, I’d patronized Addams Gold & Pawn—much more pawn than gold in the shop, by the way—for years. Our entire DVD collection came from the place, as well as the piece-of-shit, way-outdated iPod that resided almost permanently in my back pocket and the headphones around my neck. I’d sold and bought back the flat-screen television Mom had splurged on at least four times.
“I know what it’s worth too, Miss Andrews.”
I found that highly unlikely considering there was a wall full of Wal-Mart’s First Act brand guitars behind him. He wouldn’t know a quality guitar if it bit him on the ass.
“I don’t think you understand,” I started, barely able to hold it together and hating every trace of vulnerability in my voice. “What you’re offering me—”
“Is a better deal, with better terms than you’re going to get from anyone else in town.” He cut me off with a satisfied smirk.
I wanted to slap it off his smug, I-own-this-joint face. “This is the only pawn shop in town.”
“Exactly.”
I flinched. There were at least three pawn shops I knew of two towns over. I didn’t know if they’d offer me a better deal than the man in front of me, but I would’ve given anything to throw their names in his face. Then I glanced out the front window to where my bike leaned against the side of the ice machine on the sidewalk. It was old, rusted in places, and not even worth chaining up. No one in their right mind would want it—and no one in their right mind would use it to make the twenty-mile trip to Franklin in one-hundred-degree heat. My shirt was still damp from the ride over.
One look at Mr. Addams’s face told me he knew these things just as well as I did.
I took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “$650.”
He let out a terrible, condescending little laugh before he turned his attention to something behind the counter. He didn’t care that I was practically pawning my soul. He didn’t even have the decency to look me in eye as he countered with his original offer. “With the interest rate you want? $600.”
It was barely enough to cover rent and the past-due portion of our current power bill, but we could scrape by until the end of the month on it. I thought of the wad of cash Quinn had stolen from Mom’s purse—at least $900 from a wedding party she’d worked on the week before. He’d probably already blown it all before passing out on someone’s ratty, molding sofa.
“$625,” I spit out, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached. The extra $25 wouldn’t make much of a difference, but it would mean an extra tank of gas for Mom’s car. “Surely you can give me the same rate with only a measly $25 extra.”
“I can give you a lower rate with a bigger loan, Miss Andrews. You know that.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “And owe even more money in the long run? No, thank you.”
“Fine.” He shook his head and pushed a clipboard across the counter. He shoved a pen into my hand and nodded to the paperwork. “You know the drill.”
I sighed.
Yeah, I did.