quarta-feira, 4 de fevereiro de 2015

*Blog Tour + Excerpt + #Giveaway* Second Debt (Indebted #3) by Pepper Winters @PepperWinters @RSofRomance


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Second Debt by Pepper Winter is LIVE!

Read the dark & sexy continuation to Jethro & Nila's Story!


Second Debt
Indebted #3
by
Pepper Winters

Release Date: January 26th 2015

Genre: Dark Erotica




*** Synopsis ***


"I tried to play a game. I tried to wield deceit as perfectly as the Hawks. But when I thought I was winning, I wasn't. Jethro isn't what he seems — he's the master of duplicity. However, I refuse to let him annihilate me further."


Nila Weaver has grown from naïve seamstress to full-blown fighter. Every humdrum object is her arsenal, and sex... sex is her greatest weapon of all.

She's paid the First Debt. She'll probably pay more.

But she has no intention of letting the Hawks win.

Jethro Hawk has found more than a worthy adversary in Nila — he's found the woman who could destroy him. There's a fine line between hatred and love, and an even finer path between fear and respect.

The fate of his house rests on his shoulders, but no matter how much ice lives inside his heart, Nila flames too bright to be extinguished.




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*** Excerpt ***


I'D TAKEN HER, but ultimately, she'd taken me.

I'd tried to destroy her, but serendipitously, she'd destroyed me.

This was the beginning of the end.

Not the end of my feelings for her but the way of my life, my world.

Something would have to change.

Something would have to give...

...

Someone would have to die.





Just thinking of Jethro sent a spasm of desire through my core.

Dammit, what's happening to me?

A daydream of Jethro slamming to his knees before me and wrenching my legs wide stole my mind. It was so vivid, so real — a trickle of need ran down my inner thigh. I gasped as I imagined his tongue lapping at my clit, his long fingers disappearing inside me — the same finger that I'd tattooed with my name.

Would I come harder knowing he touched me with a finger branded by me? Or would I hold on as tight as I could and make him work for it?

Oh, God.

I needed to get rid of this satanic desire. I needed to be free.

My eyes opened, latching onto the detachable showerhead.

I could do it myself...

My heartbeat whizzed with need. I couldn't fight the churning demand any longer.

Reaching upward, I unhooked the showerhead and turned the water temperature down so as not to burn myself.

Feeling awkward and ridiculous and a hundred times guilty for what I was about to do, I braced my back on the tiled wall and spread my legs a little.

My teeth clamped on my bottom lip as the water pressure tickled my clit.

Oh. My. God.

My eyes rolled back as I grew bolder and pressed the stream of heavenly water harder against my pussy.

Water cascaded down my legs while my torso shivered from sudden cold. My nipples stiffened as I wickedly angled the jet down and down until water shot inside me. Every jet and bubble aroused sensitive flesh, sending my muscles clenching in joy.

I moaned.

Loudly.

My legs trembled as my neck flopped forward and I gave myself over to the exquisite pleasure conjured by an innocuous showerhead.

Starbursts flashed behind my eyelids; Jethro loomed into my mind. I pictured him shrugging out of his black shirt, prowling toward me while unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. I moaned again as my daydream shed his clothing and stood proud and naked before me. He grabbed his cock, pumping himself hard and firm, while his eyes feasted on what I was doing. He didn't say a word, only watched, then crooked his finger and beckoned me closer.

My heartbeat exceeded recommended limits as I forced myself higher and higher, locking my knees against buckling as an orgasm brewed into being. I rocked the showerhead, biting my lip as the pressure spurted over my clit and then inside me. The rhythm I set was exactly like fucking and I daren’t overthink how I looked or how depraved I felt getting off this way.

My daydream forced its way past my misgivings. My forehead furrowed as I trembled, both welcoming and fighting an orgasm.

Daydream Jethro crept closer, working his cock, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The moment I was within grabbing distance, he captured my waist. "I need to be inside you, Nila." I put words into Jethro’s mouth, but it was his voice I heard in my heart.

I moaned again, angling the showerhead harder against my clit.

"How do you want it?" my fantasy whispered in my ear as he spun me around and pressed me hard against the wall.

I swallowed hard, answering in my mind. "Fast and..."

"Filthy?" Daydream Jethro's nose nuzzled the back of my ear, sending shockwaves down my spine. "I can fuck you filthy."

I couldn't speak. But I didn’t have to. My fantasy knew exactly how I needed it. Jethro bit the back of my shoulder, spreading my legs wider with his.

"Fuck me, Jethro Hawk," I whispered.

"Oh, I will. Believe me, I will." Without further warning, he dug his fingers into my hips and slammed inside me.

My fingers went numb as I slid the showerhead from clit to entrance. I cried out as water shot inside at the same time as Jethro thrust into me from behind, sliding deep and fast, stretching me deliciously painfully.

My heart exploded with bliss. An orgasm squeezed every atom, getting ready to hurl me into the stratosphere.

Jethro thrust again and I rode my new friend the showerhead.

"Oh, God. Yes," I hissed, rocking harder. "Yes, yes..."

A masculine cough sounded. "You continue to surprise me, Ms. Weaver; at least this time, I rather enjoy it."

Everything crashed into awareness. My daydream shattered, fracturing by my feet like broken glass. I squealed and dropped the showerhead. It turned into a water snake, spewing water left and right, wriggling like some terrible demon.

Jethro snickered. "You're using up the entire Hall's supply of hot water. Are you planning on saving some for the rest of the inhabitants of my home?"








Indebted series




Debt Inheritance
Indebted #1


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First Debt
Indebted #2


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Second Debt
Indebted #3


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*** About the Author ***


Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex... her books have sex.
She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.


Her Dark Erotica books include:

Tears of Tess
Quintessentially Q



Her Grey Romance books include:

Destroyed





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*** Giveaway ***






*Excerpt Reveal* Manwhore (The Manwhore Series #1) by Katy Evans @ @authorkatyevans @RSofRomance





I look very different than the girl Saint met in his office. But I don't feel any different. My nerves are frayed to the edges as I give my name to a bouncer at the entrance and I'm allowed into the club, every part of me snug and tight in my dress as my black heels hit the floor.

Whereas M4 was all museum-like, the Ice Box is pure dark decadence. Ice sculptures sit on pedestals around the room. Cages with body-painted dancers hang from the ceiling. A bar with white and blue lights stretches from one wall to another.

Strobe lights flash across the space as I get jostled by the crowd. The bass thumps as the song "Waves" by Mr. Probz plays for the dancing crowd. Drinks are flowing on shiny silver trays, and the drinks are so adorned — by fruits, olives, salt glitter or colorful liquid swirls — they're like artworks. This isn't a normal swanky club. It's the rich boys' club and everywhere you look are beautiful people wearing beautiful things.

"I met him! God! When he said hi I thought I'd faint...!"

My nerves eat at me as I hear that, because I know for sure they're talking about him. Trying to breathe, I wind deeper into the club, wishing for Gina so bad I ache. The room is packed with women, some clearly on the hunt, others already paired with someone, a few hanging out with their friends. I breathe slowly, in and out, telling myself I can do this. It's just a club. I can have some fun. It's been a while since I've gone out to a club, and never a club like this, but it doesn’t matter. I can interview people, and if I'm lucky, I can do more than that.

After scanning the area and trying to find the best spy-spots, I go to the top level and that's when I get the best look at what's happening downstairs at the most crowded corner.

And speak of the devil. My heart stops a beat when I see that dark head of his, and that loathed, burning knot in my stomach squeezes with a vengeance. I swear no one in my life has ever made me this nervous.

He sits with his arms stretched out behind him, a wine glass and two women vying for his attention as he chats with his friends. His masculine face is illuminated in certain angles when the lights flash — his beauty unprecedented.

Okay. Breathing. Do I want him to know I'm here or not?

A watery sensation seems to spread down my limbs as I force myself to go downstairs. I wind a path to the ladies' room and worm myself through the throng of bodies toward a wide mirror above a set of modernist floating sinks. A group of women preen at themselves while I look our reflections. To my right, a woman pouts her red lips, and to my left, her friend pouts her pink ones. Me? I'm still me, but I look extravagant, like I was born here. I look very different than the young girl in coveralls he met. Will he even recognize me like this?

"You going to the after-party?" Red Lips asks Pink Lips as they retouch their lipsticks.

"No key yet."

"Lookie lookie." Red Lips waves a keycard in the air.

There's squealing in the room and she tucks the key into her bra. "Mine!"

"So there's an after-party?" I ask them.

"At Saint's penthouse," one says, nodding.

"How do you get invited to this party?"

"A hundred keys are distributed during the evening."

A sudden thought of stealing the very key she's just tucked into her bra flickers through my mind. I mean, it's just a key. It couldn't possibly be a felony.

"Babe," she tells me, "stop giving my key the eye! I've been waiting three years to get a key like this. Go and work your ass out there if you want one. Only the finest asses make it."

"Thanks," I say, turning to look at my ass in the mirror questioningly. Gina says I've got a great ass. It's perky and the perfect handful, some would say. But would Saint say that?

I sigh and lean against the wall, then I spot all the little writings on an open stall door. I narrow my eyes, forcing my focus.

Malcolm for my baby-daddy

I sucked Saint’s cock

Tahoe rammed me right here

Callan licks cunt like a caveman

I head back into the noise and try to find a good spot for spying when I see him again. The two women won’t leave his side and now my stomach for some reason feels jumpy, annoying me. One of the blondes takes a shot from the waiter, licks the rim, and then adds salt.

Saint edges back and watches her with an expression of casual boredom, but his lips are curled, as if he's having some fun.

I'm so engrossed watching — a little too fascinated and a little bit disgusted — I don't realize a guard has walked up to me until he's right in my face. He signals to the back of the room — to where Saint's best friends are now watching me. Saint isn't even looking my way. Oh no, he's too busy being entertained, still wearing that almost-bored smile. Maybe they need to take their tops off to get him excited?

All three men fit in perfectly with the lavish surroundings, but I can't look at the other two. Only at Malcolm. Malcolm's dark good looks blend with the shadows like Hades in his own little corner of hell.

Suddenly he laughs over something one of the blondes does and he turns a little, his eyes landing straight on me — and stopping there.

I feel his stare like a hit of adrenaline. I want to look away, but I can't, I feel trapped. I don't know if I made this up but I could've sworn his chest jerked as if he sucked in a breath.

Does he recognize me?

Do I want him to?

Suddenly the atmosphere is so heavy I can't breathe. My lungs feel like rocks and I really can't breathe. As he rakes me in one fast, complete sweep of his eyes that makes my stomach grip nervously, he takes in my pumps up to my long blonde hair, and I become aware of my dress hugging the top of my thighs, my hips, my abdomen, my breasts and even my ass. Oh god. I force myself to follow the guard in his direction, every step accelerating my heartbeat. In that black suit and without a tie, the top button of his shirt open and his hair a bit rumpled, Saint is the embodiment of luxurious and decadent and sin. He is Sin Itself and I feel like an absolute... virgin.

He stretches his long legs out before him, his stare fixed on mine without any seeming inclination to move away.

"Mr. Saint," the guard clears his throat. "The gentlemen had me summon her."

Although his smile doesn't waver, the look on his face is completely remote and unreadable.

"Here she is, gentlemen," the guard then tells the other two — the blond and the copper-haired men looking at me like lunch.

"Tahoe," the blonde says.

"Callan," the copper-haired says.

Saint merely pats the blondes on the butt and sends them on her way, then he reaches out to take my elbow somehow in an instinctive gesture that brings me a strange sense of comfort. I don't know anybody else here, so when he tugs me to his side, I go down and sit next to him on the edge of the long booth.

And that's when he leans his dark head over to me and murmurs, "Malcolm." His voice is so deep and rumbling, I shiver.

"Rachel," I lamely offer.

He raises his eyebrow and stares at me. What are you doing here, Rachel? he seems to ask.

I'm wondering what to say, when Tahoe lifts his drink and drains it. "You're up past your bedtime." The Texan oil baby. Oozing charm, drawling out the words.

I don't know why but I'm acutely aware of the position of Saint's body in relation to mine. He just straightened fully in the booth and somehow shifted so his arm is very noticeably stretched out behind me.

"Like they say, no rest for the wicked," I answer Tahoe with an extra-wide smile, my heart pounding over Saint's nearness.

Suddenly I can smell him. Just him. Among all the mingled scents in the room, it's Saint somehow in my lungs, in every breath. He radiates a vitality that draws me like a magnet. It unnerves me but something in his presence, so close to me, soothes me too.

"Apparently there's a dress code — Saint had to drop his tail and horns at the door," Callan jokes as a waiter sets a drink before me.

"Oh yes." I tug the hem of my skirt self-consciously, "I had to drop half my dress."

"Did you now?" Tahoe asks.

"T."

One word, one letter, from Malcolm.

"Yeah, Saint?" Tahoe returns, lifting his eyebrows.

"Dibs."

I almost spit out the drink. I cough and slam my hand to my chest, and Saint calmly reaches out to take my drink from my hand and sets it aside. "Okay?" he asks, ducking his head and peering into my face.

I give one last cough and squeeze my eyes shut and nod, and when I open my eyes, Saint is the only thing I see. I find him staring at me in such a penetrating way I can feel the stare in my bones.

"Did you just get to the party, Rachel?" he asks.

As he waits for my reply, he reaches for my cocktail and extends the glass out to me. His wrist is thick and looks so strong, so golden, his skin smooth, his arm dusted with a little bit of hair as I cautiously take it from him, our fingers brushing.

Tahoe reaches for his coat pocket and waves whatever he extracted in the air. "Saint! May I?"

Excitement leaps in my chest when I realize it's the key!

"Not happening, that's not her scene," Malcolm murmurs besides me.

"Aw! Come on, let me give her a key. She's a dime, man," Tahoe drawls.

I'm so disbelieving, I'm not even breathing as Malcolm slowly stands. I follow him up, staring up into his face in confusion.

"What do you mean it's not my scene?" I demand. I feel like there's no gravity when he stands so close to me. I'm dizzy. Confused. And unexpectedly hurt.

For the first time since we met, he looks at me like he's actually losing his temper... with me. He leans closer and puts his lips close to my ear. "Trust me when I tell you, it's not your scene. Go home," he whispers. He sends me a look laden with warning and walks away, blending into the crowd.

Tahoe and Callan stare at me, speechless. "That's a first," Tahoe mumbles and heads away.

I feel myself burn in humiliation and confusion. Worse is that, when I go outside, the same man who drove us around the day before walks over to me.

"Miss Livingston, a pleasure to drive you," he says, hanging up his phone as if Saint just called him. He is a huge man, with a bald head, an earpiece, and no expression. A second later, he's opening the car door of the Rolls for me.

Seriously?

Did Saint call him just now and ask him to escort me home?

Aware of people staring and seeing me being led to Saint's car, I climb into the back of the car and I murmur my thanks simply because it's not this man's fault.

The car smells new and expensive and, like him. A bottle of wine and water bottles ride with me. There's music in the background and the temperature is just right. The perfect luxury of it all tempts me to run my hands down my dress and look down at myself in confusion. What is wrong with me?

I feel as if he pulled the rug from under me and reminded me what I'm up against. The top of the species. Somebody ruthless.

I can't take the heat in the back of my ears and on my cheeks. I sag on the backseat and set my forehead on the window. Focus, Livingston! Exhaling, I grab my phone and try to write down all the details about what I saw, but I can't right now. I just can't do anything but ride here, in his car, wondering why I feel so vulnerable.








Manwhore
The Manwhore Series #1
by
Katy Evans

Release Date: March 24th, 2015





*** Synopsis ***


Is it possible to expose Chicago's hottest player — without getting played?

This is the story I've been waiting for all my life, and its name is Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint. Don't be fooled by that last name though. There's nothing holy about the man except the hell his parties raise. The hottest entrepreneur Chicago has ever known, he's a man's man with too much money to spend and too many women vying for his attention.

Mysterious. Privileged. Legendary. His entire life he's been surrounded by the press as they dig for tidbits to see if his fairytale life is for real or all mirrors and social media lies. Since he hit the scene, his secrets have been his and his alone to keep. And that's where I come in.

Assigned to investigate Saint and reveal his elusive personality, I'm determined to make him the story that will change my career.

But I never imagined he would change my life. Bit by bit, I start to wonder if I'm the one discovering him... or if he's uncovering me.

What happens when the man they call Saint, makes you want to sin?






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*** About the Author ***


Hey! I'm Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I'm married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I'd love to hear from you!



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*Excerpt Reveal* Rebel (Dead Man's Ink #1) by Callie Hart @_callie_hart @RSofRomance





"You think you use your brain when you're having sex?"

Rebel's pen freezes on the paper. He turns, then, towering over me, my face level with his belt buckle. It's as though I can literally feel the heat rolling off his body. He's intimidating and overwhelming, his presence a powerful force to be reckoned with.

"Oh, Sophia. I use my brain. Every time I sleep with a woman, I'm using my head to figure out what she likes. How she likes it. What I can do to have her screaming my name until her throat's raw."








Rebel
Dead Man's Ink #1
by
Ella Fox

Release Date: February 9th 2015





*** Synopsis ***


Rebel and Sophia's story.

The first of a three part series. This novel contains a small snippet which has already been released in the Owned: An Alpha Anthology, however it is followed by a full story installment.


Sophia

Sometimes, you don't mean to become another person. Sometimes the choice is made for you, and pretending is the only thing that keeps you going. When Alexis Romera is taken and her kidnappers find her fake ID in her purse, she must become Sophia in order to keep her family safe. Revealing her real identity to the man she's sold to would be easy enough, but can she trust him? Hell bent on revenging the murder of his uncle, Rebel doesn't seem all that interested in playing things safe.

In fact, nothing about the secretive, dark and brooding MC president seems safe at all.


Rebel

What do you do when the man who raised you is murdered, and the only witness is kidnapped girl who's being sold as a sex slave? You buy her, of course. As president to the most powerful motorcycle club in America, Rebel isn't lacking in power. There are strings the man can pull, and entire criminal organisations and corporate businesses alike would fall to their knees. However, along with such power comes intense interest. The DEA have their eye fixed solely on the MC... and they're just waiting for Rebel to trip up.

Getting Sophia to testify is the only way to bring the Los Oscuros cartel down. The beautiful, dark haired, dark eyed woman is belligerent and uncooperative and unlikely to bend to his will, but Rebel has a few tricks up his sleeve to make her compliant - he'll charm her until she's bending over backwards to please him.

Of course, falling for her might cause a few hiccups along the way...




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*** About the Author ***


Callie has experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and molding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie's. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption.

Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.



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*Prologue Reveal* Ember (Eagle Elite #5) by Rachel Van Dyken @RachVD @InkSlingerPR




Ember
Eagle Elite #1
by
Rachel Van Dyken

Release Date: February 19th 2015





*** Synopsis ***


I am a Killer. A Rapist. A Monster.

I know only pain and survival.

That is until the Cappo's sister walked into my life.

And changed everything.

She's a light who makes my darkness darker, her smile makes my heart turn to ice, and I can't escape the fear her seductive looks instill - knowing it's only a matter of time before I fail - again, and take her for myself.

This is the story of my redemption.

But it's not pretty... I died, and now I'm alive, but not living, breathing but not surviving. I am Phoenix De Lange, son to a murdered mob boss, estranged brother, horrible friend, monster in the making, newest leader to one of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra.

And I will have my vengeance.

Or die trying.

I am Phoenix De Lange.

Death is all I know.

Until she offers me a piece of life - I can't resist taking.




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*** Excerpt ***


Ember
Eagle Elite Book 5
Copyright © 2015 RACHEL VAN DYKEN
Prologue


Prologue


Phoenix


"DO IT," MY FATHER spat. "Or I will."

I looked at the girl at my feet and back at my father. "No."

He lifted his hand above my head; I knew what was coming, knew it would hurt like hell but had no way to fight back — he'd already starved me of my food for the past three days for arguing, for trying to save the girl and her cousin.

His fist hit my temple so hard that I fell to the ground with a cry. The click of his boots against the cement gave me the only warning I'd have as he reared back and kicked me in the ribs; over and over again he kicked. The girl screamed, but I stayed silent. Screaming didn't help; nothing did.

I waited until he was done — I prayed that he would kill me this time. I prayed so hard that I was convinced God was finally going to hear me and take me away from my hell. Anything was better than living. Anything.

"You worthless—" Another kick to the head. "—piece of shit!" A kick to my gut. "You will never be boss, not if you cry every time you must do the hard thing!" Finally, blessed darkness enveloped my line of vision.

I woke up from the nightmare screaming, not even realizing that I was safe, in my own bed. With a curse I checked the clock.

Three a.m.

Well, at least I'd only had one nightmare — that I'd remembered. I'd been living with Sergio for the past week; his house was so big that I'd basically taken the east wing, and he'd taken the West, said he'd hated living alone anyway. I wasn't stupid; I knew the guy wasn't exactly a big fan, but it worked. I needed to stay in the States while I figured shit out.

And I wasn't ready to leave. Not when I needed to learn all I could from Nixon. Not when I had responsibility.

And not when I had those black folders freaking burning a hole in my mind.

Luca hadn't just left me an empire; he'd left me secrets. I wasn't sure what was worse, knowing everything there was to know about those I was supposed to be protecting or knowing that at any minute one of them could turn on us.

"Hey!" Bee barged into my room.

"Damn it!" I pulled the blankets over my naked body, my heart picking up speed at her tousled hair and bedroom eyes. Tex's sister, Tex's sister. My body wasn't accepting that — physically it wasn't accepting any information other than she was beautiful.

And it was dark.

I looked away, scowling.

"I heard screaming." Bee took a step forward, her perfume floating off her body like an aphrodisiac or drug, making me calm, making me want something I had no business wanting.

"Yeah, well..." I gave her a cold glance. "...clearly I'm fine, so you should go. Actually, why are you here? You know you live with Tex, right?"

She shrugged and sat on my bed. I clenched my fists around the blankets to keep from reaching out to her. It was getting harder and harder to ignore her warmth — when I lived in a constant state of near-death cold.

"He's with Mo, and they need privacy. I'm not stupid. So I asked Sergio if I could move in for a while."

"You did what?" I asked in a deadly tone, one I was sure would probably give her nightmares later.

She grinned. "I'm your new roomie!" Bee bounced on the bed and sent me a shy look from beneath her dark lashes. "Admit it, you miss our slumber parties."

Forget the nightmare — I was looking at it.










Enchant
Eagle Elite #0.5



Elite
Eagle Elite #1



Enforce
Eagle Elite #1.5



Elect
Eagle Elite #2



Entice
Eagle Elite #3



Elicit
Eagle Elite #4



Bang Bang






*** About the Author ***


Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at her website.



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