domingo, 4 de outubro de 2015

♡ Blog Tour ♡ Ryan's Letters by Jax Jillian @jaxjillian @drcpromo




Ryan's Letters
by
Jax Jillian

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: September 29, 2015

Tour Host: DRC Promotions





✾ Synopsis ✾


My dearest Larkin.
Help me.
I'm drowning.

It has been almost eight months since the love of his life, Larkin, passed, and Ryan Boone has tried to make good on his promise to her to keep living. The letters she left behind had helped him tremendously, but all of a sudden, he felt like he was drowning and only she could save him. The only way he could think to reach out to her was to write her letters, just like she did to him. He never thought that she would actually get them; after all, she was gone. But when he sees her sitting on their private dune reading his letter, his grief would never be the same.

Ryan's Letters, the sequel to Jax Jillian's first novel, Larkin's Letters, takes readers on a journey with Ryan Boone as he struggles to completely come to terms with his wife's death. That struggle becomes even harder when Larkin's ghost comes to visit him each time he writes to her. But when Lux, a beautiful new doctor, moves in next door and befriends Ryan, he must choose between Larkin's visits and a potential new love.










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✿ Other Books ✿


Larkin's Letters
by
Jax Jillian





✾ Synopsis ✾


As Ryan Boone struggles to come to grips with not being able to keep a promise he made to his dying wife, Larkin's Letters propels readers into the mind of Ryan as he struggles with frequent visits from her ghost and a series of letters she left behind.

Ryan has worked hard to become one of Hollywood's most sought-after actors, but no matter how famous he became, he always remained loyal to his childhood best friend, Larkin James. When Larkin is diagnosed with leukemia, Ryan sacrifices his career to be by her side and in turn realizes how much he had always loved her. Throughout Larkin's sickness, Ryan promised her he would never let her die alone. But we learn that not all of our promises are always within our control.










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✿ The Author ✿


I am a 38-year old novelist living in Philadelphia. It wasn't until I was 34 when I realized that I wanted to write a novel. Better late than never, right? My first book, Larkin's Letters, was published and released June 25, 2013 by Tate Publishing, and the sequel, Ryan's Letters, will be released on September 29, 2015.



✽ Author Links ✽

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♡ Author Spotlight ♡ Alessandra Torre‏: What's Next? @ReadAlessandra @TheNextStepPR








Alessandra Torre is an award-winning New York Times bestselling author of ten novels. Her books focus on romance and suspense, all with a strong undercurrent of sexuality. Torre has been featured in such publications as Elle and Elle UK, co-hosted Dirty Sexy Funny with Jenny McCarthy, as well as guest blogged for the Huffington Post and RT Book Reviews. She is also the Bedroom Blogger for Cosmopolitan.com.

You can learn more about Alessandra on her website at or you can find her on Twitter or Facebook.




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A Hollywood Star.
A Small Town Girl.
Opposites Shouldn't Always Attract.




Hollywood Dirt
by
Alessandra Torre

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Cover Designer: Hang Le

Release Date: September 7th 2015





Cole Masten. Abandoned by his superstar wife, Hollywood's Perfect Husband is now Hollywood's Sexiest Bachelor: partying hard and screwing even harder. Move over Colin Farrell, there's a new bad boy ruling Los Angeles.

Summer Jenkins. That's me, a small town girl stuck in Quincy, Georgia. I cook some mean chicken and dumplins, can bluff a grown man out of his savings in poker, and was voted Most Friendly my senior year. Other than that... I don't have too much going on.

We were from different worlds. Our lives shouldn't have collided. But when Cole Masten's jet landed in our country airport, we all sat up in our rocking chairs and watched. And when an opportunity crossed my path, I jumped at the chance.

But I didn't expect what ended up happening. I didn't expect Cole Masten to be an ass, or to pursue me, or for everything to get tangled up around set riggings, camera cords, bra straps and heartstrings.

Sometimes, opposites just aren't meant to attract.










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Want to read the first pages of Hollywood Dirt?
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═══ COMING NOVEMBER 10th ═══







Equal parts Dexter and 50 Shades, this is the eagerly awaited new novel from A. R. Torre, author of the award winning erotic thriller, The Girl in 6E.

The rules are the same. I can’t open the door. I can't leave. I can't kill anyone.

The only difference is, I don't set the rules anymore. Guards in grey uniforms do. It is everything I never wanted and everything I always deserved. I write to you now, from a prison cell. My home for the next twenty to thirty years.

That's the going term for murder.







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* * *




*** Spoiler Free ***

"Where were you last night, Ms. Madden?"

I brought my eyes up from the water bottle and into the woman's eyes. "I was here. In my apartment."

The woman's eyes darted, from left to right, like a pong paddle. "All night?"

"Yes."

"Can anyone verify that?"

When she spoke, her eyebrows pinched together in a sharp V of distrust. I watched their narrow exclamations and wondered what they have on me. Anything? Was this a fishing expedition or a sharpening of the nails that would seal my coffin?

"Umm... yes. My next-door neighbor. Simon." I tried to push into last night's vault, but found nothing. Strange.

"He was with you?"

I felt the upward curl of my lip. "No. But he locked me into the apartment. From nine till sometime this morning."

That surprised them. I felt the shift of air, the rigid tilt of the woman as she fought against turning her head to the man. He leaned in a little and spoke, "I don't understand."

I sighed, an action that bought me a moment to deliberate the wisdom of information sharing. "Simon lives a few doors down. He locks my door at night. So he can verify that he locked me inside last night, and I was here all night until he unlocked me."

"Your door locks from the outside?" EyelinerCop found this very interesting. I watched the tip of her pen, the increased tremor of it as it scratched against the page of her notebook.

"Yes." I lifted my eyes from the pen. "What evidence do you have against me?"

Her mouth widened into a grin, a stretch of raw lips that looked painful. I didn't like that grin, that tell that I'd just stepped into a pile of shit. "Why, Ms. Madden, what an interesting question. An innocent person would be more interested in finding out what crime was committed."

"Who said I was an innocent person?" The response slipped out, snarky and unnecessary. I'd wanted to shut the cop up, to wipe that smug grin off her face. The question was much more passive than what I wanted to do. To spring across the table and claw at her throat. Yank at her belt and palm her service revolver. Celebrate the gun's weight in my hand in the moment before I pointed the gun at her temple and pulled the trigger. Take that, bulletproof vest. Compared to that scenario, my egotistic response was tame. Tame and stupid. The pair of detectives all but high-fived each other with their eye contact. I settled back in my chair and waited. Counted to ten and swore to behave.

The woman composed herself and spoke. "What are you guilty of, Ms. Madden?"

I wondered why she was in charge of this interaction. If it was her rank or if it was because they thought I'd associate with a woman more. Thought I would buddy up and confess away, all because a penis didn't hang between her legs. I tapped my fingers against the arm of the chair. "I'd like you both to leave now. Unless you have something to charge me with."

They had to have something. Surely they didn't show up at my apartment on a whim. I must have slipped up somewhere, forgotten something. Left a gaping hole big enough for them to stick an arrest warrant through.

The man spoke. "Let's get back to the neighbor. You said he locks you inside? Why would you let him do that?"

This was wrong, bad. I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be talking to them. I had asked them to leave, didn't that mean they had to? I took a sip of my water and looked away from the man, making accidental eye contact with the woman. She leaned forward and pointed, her finger one long arrow of invasion. "What happened to your nose, Ms. Madden?"

"My nose?" I reached up and touched it. Felt the caked blood, the split across my bridge. I fought the urge to follow suit with my second hand to fully explore the damage. Focused on my pain and suddenly realized how much it throbbed.

"It looks broken." She looked concerned, but she wasn't. She was giddy, would probably have reached out and gripped my nose herself if she could have.

It looks broken. It felt broken. I pushed on the tip and got lightheaded. Pulled my hand away before I fainted. I stared at a strand of the woman’s hair that had escaped her ponytail. Focused on it until the spots cleared from my vision.

"Ms. Madden?" the man prodded.

"What?"

"What happened to your nose?"

Good question. I looked away from the strand of hair and into the man’s eyes. "I'm not sure."

"You forgot?"

The seed of unease was growing in my stomach. Why was I talking to them? Why were they here? Why was I offering information when I wasn't getting any? I stood up and watched for a reaction. A reach for a paper, for evidence to wave in my face, but they did nothing, just stayed in place and watched me. "I'd like to be alone."

I walked to the door and waited, the pair slow in their stand, step, then pass through the open door. I was almost free, about to shut it, when the woman's hand settled on my arm, a firm and hard grip that tightened against the sleeve of my Marilyn Monroe sweatshirt. I turned, raising my brows at her in question.

"Why did you kill him?" the cop whispered, her eyes glued on me.

I didn't answer her. I held her eye contact while I reached down and pulled back on her index finger until she released my arm. Then I dropped my hand, stepped back, and shut the door, the slam of the steel against the frame loud and unfamiliar.

I didn't not answer to be smart or mysterious. The main reason I didn't answer was because I wasn’t sure how to answer. I wasn't sure which death she was asking about. To be honest, I was starting to lose track.



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♡ Hottie of The Day ♡ Anthony James Hill


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