quinta-feira, 5 de fevereiro de 2015

*Review* Love's Suicide (Love's Suicide #1) by Jennifer Foor @jennyfoor @InkSlingerPR

Love Suicide
Love's Suicide #1
Jennifer Foor

*** Synopsis ***

My heart belonged to Branch and Brooks Valentine since we were children, when we were all too naïve to know what that even meant. We didn't understand that when we became adults, love would change us. I had to make a choice and when I did, it ripped our bond apart. Brooks left town, and he took half of my heart with him. It was difficult, but I coped and planned my future with Branch. I thought I'd made the right decision. I loved him and I always had.

Brooks showed up to be our best man the night before our nuptials. After drinks and too much reminiscing, I ended up in bed with the wrong brother. To avoid the humiliation and the fact that I'd ruined all of our lives, I left Branch and the only family I'd ever known.

That's where my story should have ended.

Two years, one beautiful little girl and an abusive marriage later, I was standing there staring at the man that would always hold my heart.

The only question was...

Would I give it to him

I'm Katy Michaels and this is my story.

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Katy, Branch and Brooks were friends their whole lives. Their parents were best friends, they were neighbors and they grew up together. Katy was an only child while Branch and Brooks were twins. They were very close and when the time came for Katy to choose one of the twins, she made a choice that changed their lives and their relationships. But... what if she chose the wrong brother?

Loved Love's Suicide! It is a very emotional and beautiful story with lots of twists that keep the reader hooked from the beginning.

Katy is a very strong woman. She suffered a tragic loss when she was a child, she had to choose between her best friends and she had to make very difficult choices.
Brooks stole my heart. He was always true to his heart. He loved Katy and was very patient with her.

I didn't like Branch in the beginning. He was selfish and was in the way of Katy and Brooks's happiness. He couldn't be more different from his brother.

This is a great book, with an amazing story. Jennifer Foor did an awesome job with Love's Suicide and I can't wait to read Love Survives!

*** About the Author ***

Jennifer Foor is an award winning Contemporary Romance Author. She's best known for The Mitchell Family series, which includes ten books.

She is married with two children and spends most of her time behind a keyboard, writing stories that come from her heart.

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*Book Tour + Excerpt + #Giveaway* Throb by Vi Keeland @ViKeeland @RSofRomance

Throb by Vi Keeland is LIVE!
Now is your chance to meet Cooper & Kate!

Vi Keelan

Release Date: January 26th, 2015

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative

Model: Josh Kloss

Photographer: Scott Hoover Photography

*** Synopsis ***

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Want to read the first few chapters?
Sign up for Vi's mailing list now and get a sneak peek!

*** Excerpt ***

Every girl needs three things

1. A flutter in her belly when she meets him for the first time.

Meet Cooper

My lips brush the top of her hand lightly, my tongue sneaking out to fleetingly touch her skin. The brief contact stirs an ache inside me. This woman tugs at something — more than arousal — something that makes me want to slow down time just to spend a few more minutes standing here.

"Did you just..." she stammers a bit.

"Did I just what?"

She squints at me. "You know."

"Do I?"

"I felt your tongue on my hand. You... you licked me."

I'd been dying to run my tongue along her neck all evening, although I hadn't really meant to be so crude about it. It just sort of... happened. "I wouldn't say licked, maybe just a little taste."

"So you tasted me?"

My entire body suddenly has interest in this conversation. "I suppose I did. But it wasn't nearly enough. That brings us back to my invitation for dinner. Tomorrow night?"

"I can't."

"The day after then?"

She laughs and shakes her head. The sound makes me smile.

"Good night, Cooper." She pulls the driver's side door shut and leaves me standing there... for a full five minutes after she's gone.

2. A best friend to talk about him to.

Meet Sadie


"And I kissed him when we were in his office."

"How was his office?"

"Really? That's what you want to know. Not how was the kiss or aren't you in breach of your contract? How was his office?"

"You can tell a lot about a man by his office."

I gulp another unladylike sip from my wine glass. "His office was beautiful. Sleek, overlooking the city. It oozed power."

"Nice. Bet he fucks like he owns you."

The thought of what he’s like in bed is enough to make me lose my train of thought.

"Go on," Sadie prods.

I don't continue immediately.

"You forgot what you were up to because you were thinking of him fucking you like he owns you, didn't you?" My best friend smirks knowingly.

"Shut up." I pause. "Anyway, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well, him. Obviously."

"I wish it were that easy."

3. A gentleman that turns into a bossy dirty talker in the bedroom.

Cooper – behind closed doors.

"You haven't even begun to see bossy yet. Tonight I'm going to tell you to do things, and you’re going to do them. When I tell you to open wider, or take my cock deeper, you're going to listen. You know why? Because since the moment we met, all I've wanted to do is make you feel good. Hell, I don't even need to get off physically. Because I'm going to get off watching you every minute. So, yeah, I'm going to be bossy. Now let's put the rest of this behind us. Do you want to be with me tonight?"

After that prelude, I nod my head fast. I'm no fool. Who wouldn't?

*** About the Author ***

Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn't change for the world. She is a bookworm and has been known to read her kindle at stop lights, while styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during sporting events, and frequently while pretending to work. She is a boring attorney by day, and an exciting smut author by night!

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*Blog Tour + Excerpt + Playlist + #Giveaway* He's Captured My Heart by Karen Frances @karenfrances12 @SchmexyGrlBooks @TrulySchmexyPR

Hes Captured My Heart
Karen Frances

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: December 28th, 2015

*** Synopsis ***

Like any dutiful Scottish daughter, Libby Stewart puts her family first. She's spent months helping her brother, a single father, care for his new daughter. The strain of her family commitments led to the painful demise of a two-year relationship. As Libby nurses her broken heart and relishes time with her niece, her father offers her a job managing his hotel. She's ready to focus on her career and get her life back on track.

Alexander Mathews, a handsome American businessman who is staying at the hotel, has other plans for Libby. She's taken aback when she meets Alex. He strikes her as arrogant and domineering, but regardless, the sexual tension between them is palpable. Libby fancies herself a good girl, but Alex quickly seduces her. Libby finds she is soon addicted to the passion she feels in Alex's skillful hands.
Libby has never been so confused. Who is Alex Mathews, really? An international playboy, or truly the man of her dreams? When a confrontation with her ex-boyfriend turns violent and she questions Alex's loyalty to her, Libby must decide if she wants to let this charismatic stranger from across the pond truly capture her heart.

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*** Excerpt ***

I open a drawer of the dresser and throw the underwear in, then stand staring in the mirror. I close my eyes and take in a long, deep breath. I don't need to open my eyes to know that he's followed me into the room. I sense him. He's getting closer to me. I can smell him. It's hard to describe — a sweet, rich, masculine scent. I've not even heard his footsteps coming across the floor. So silent, like a predator creeping up on its prey.

I can feel how close he is as he leans in. I feel his breath against the back of my ear. Then it travels ever so slowly to the nape of my neck. I know what he's doing. This is sheer torture of a pleasurable kind. He's tormenting me on purpose. Don't think I can take much more of this. But I don't think I can move either. My brain has shut down. I should tell him to go; that would be the right thing to do. But the parts of my body that have lain dormant for the past few months won’t let me speak.

He slowly slips one hand round my waist as he trails small kisses along my neck. My head automatically tilts to one side to give him more access. His other hand starts at my neck, and with gentle strokes, he starts working his fingers down my back, then up again. I can’t even bring myself to open my eyes.

I must be dreaming. I've only known this gorgeous man who is standing behind me for... how long? Not even a day. This can only be a dream.

"Libby, please. Open. Your. Eyes. And. Turn. Round," he says in between the kisses that he's placing on my neck.

I don't want to do as I am told because at this moment I am quite content where I am. And I am also a bit afraid that he won't finish what he has started.

*** Playlist ***

*** About the Author ***

I live just outside Glasgow, Scotland with my husband of seventeen years and our, sometimes delightful, five children. My busy days include helping my husband manage the family business, while the kids take up the majority of the time, schools runs, parties and all the various sports clubs they attend. I find escape from the chaos of everyday life in good books, particularly stories of passionate romantic relationships. Let's face it we all dream of the happily ever after's.

For as far back as I can remember I have devoted my time to my family and for that I wouldn’t change a thing, but whilst thinking what I wanted to do for me, I had this niggling feeling to write, but pushed it to the back of my mind, for a good few months. Several months later and it was still there along with the names Elizabeth and Alexander, so thought I have nothing to lose so why not give it a go. Never in a million years when I started writing He's Captured My Heart, a tale of contemporary erotic romance set in Scotland, did I think I would actually finish it, never mind do anything with it.

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*Chapter Reveal + #Giveaway* Where We Belong by Eve Connell @EveConnell @givemebooksblog

Where We Belong
Eve Connell

Release Date: February 19, 2015

*** Synopsis ***

One man diving into the past.

One woman emerging from the depths.

At the age of seventeen, Amelia Baide won silver at the Olympic Games and was the second-fastest woman in the pool. Then one tragic night she crashed into a lake and was dragged out without a pulse. Now twenty-four, she is still haunted by it and hasn't swum again. Until this year's anniversary of the accident. It is a day unlike any other and a strange turn of events finds Amelia back at a swimming pool.

Harry Jamieson had eyes for one girl, while women and the media had eyes for him. As a trainer of Olympic athletes, he was an in-demand man. Until one boozy morning after... But from bad luck to pure chance he runs into his old flame, Amelia, at a swimming pool no less. She doesn't remember a thing from the night of the crash.

And Harry knows every single secret.

The pair joins forces — a comeback for Amelia and Harry's ultimate coaching opportunity. But dodging waves is hard to do; and even the strongest swimmer may sink.

Where We Belong is a second-chance love story for young and old, for swimming enthusiasts and romantics at heart.

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*** Excerpt ***

Chapter 1


We had the fight moments after I slipped the robe off my shoulders into a pool around my feet. I had one foot on the shower base, one on the plush rectangular mat.

At that moment, my fiancé, Kristopher, knocked from the other side of the bathroom door, which I'd already locked for privacy.

He had this tendency often. The first word he would speak to me all day? As I stepped into the shower. Was it okay if he went out with his friends instead of the dinner reservation? As I stepped into the shower. His solution to cancer? As I stepped into the shower.

Clenching my jaw, I awaited the question.

"Aftershave, Amelia?" he asked.

I sighed. "You should have gotten it when I told you I needed to shower. Or while I collected my creams and lotions and make-up. Or while I sniffed around for a clean towel in your stash in the corner."

The soap — as we both knew — was irrelevant in this argument. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if we stayed together out of laziness. And maybe we did. Because I hated many characteristics about my fiancé. Especially his ignorance of this anniversary.

It was September twenty-ninth.

This year I called my boss's mobile at the crack of dawn to fake a sick day, playing up my groggy tone as a terrible sore throat in addition to a nauseous tummy. She told me to get well, and I swallowed the news with a lump in my throat, guilty for lying. I was an assistant for a medium-sized advertising business and handled paperwork, invoicing and calls all day long — it wasn't like my absence would be of consequence to day-to-day activities. I'd pick it up tomorrow.

Last year Kristopher and I made dates apart with our respective best friends, and I'd spent it eating all the ice cream along a strip of shops down the coast. I'd thrown up once and then kept on going. Jaffa flavour, I remember.

I'd licked and slurped the drips down the paper cup, and only thought twice of the anniversary. Once on the drive down to the beach, and then once as I'd clutched the sides of a rusty public bin and spewed my guts up to the backdrop of disgusted gasps from passers-by.

I don't know what Kristopher did that day, but he came back when the night sky was a deep sapphire blue, whisky on his breath as he climbed in bed behind me.

The year before I took a day off from work and spent $600 buying cocktail dresses I would never have occasion to wear. The next day I donated them to charity.

Six years ago today, I died. Hence, it was the one time of the year we didn't forget the date. Unlike some years when we had to shop for Christmas gifts at two AM on the twenty-fourth.

I stared down the white door of the bathroom, one foot tingling with the sharp cold of the shower base, hand clutching the knob. I stepped back onto the tiles, accepting defeat.

"Come on, Amelia," he said in a low tone. "Just one Goddamn bottle of aftershave. That's all I need."

"No. Just wait till I'm done."


"Amelia," I said.

"Amelia, please," he said, voice breaking. "I haven't showered and I stink. I just need a few fucking sprays, and I'll be out of your way all day."

I gritted my teeth and hobbled from toe to toe, the cold seeping up my legs. If we kept going on like this staying out of each other's way was pointless. We knew how to nip at each other's sensitive spots in a way learned from several years of being together. I saw the forthcoming crash, clenched my eyes shut against the pain. My shoulders heaved, bracing for impact.

Was this what happened to me just before my crash?

Was there a moment of wide-eyed fear as my corded, muscled arms grabbed the wheel at the proper ten and two positions, and I flew through the air, reduced to a thin, crushed and crumpled body at the bottom of the lake?

Hot tears grew heavy behind my eyelids as something inside me snapped. I shut the gate to the horrific visions.

It was too late to shower.

Kristopher banged his fist on the door, the boom echoing. I bent and hurried on my new clothes folded on the counter.

"Come on. This is beyond a joke. It will take you a few seconds to pass it." The door rattled, the handle jerking, but I'd locked the door already. "Amelia."

I slipped my arms into the cardigan and threw open the door, despite the bags under my eyes and the chill settling over my chest because of the unbuttoned front.

I said, "Have it all," pushing the aftershave bottle into his chest, then rushed past him.

And I didn't look back.

Chapter 2


I woke to star  and heart  shaped glow-in-the-dark stickers radiating in neon green from the ceiling. A ceiling I'd never seen before in my life — typically, I wasn't the sort of man to befriend the fancy sticker type of person.

It was pre-dawn, barely so, the sun a tiny orb just under the horizon through the crack in the curtains.

My world swayed as I tilted my head. I held my ears in my palms, and my fingers weaved through the messy state of my bed hair. Under the purple sheets, my stomach churned, and farther down, morning glory unstuck from the aforementioned undelightful purple sheets. I crawled out of the bed.

What the fuck was this? I thought. And where the fuck was I?

I remembered flashes from the previous night. A club, a slime party, and breathy kisses with the girl who lay splayed under these purple sheets beneath her stars and hearts glow-in-the-dark ceiling.

Viol... Vick... no, it was Vivienne. No, wait, Vivienna.

I smiled, proud of my achievement. But that dropped into a wobbly set of lips. My stomach churned again. I lurched into the attached bathroom and retched, wiping myself clean with water.

Even though I was ninety-nine-point-nine per cent certain I fucked Vicky (or Vivienna), I shivered at the thought of sharing her toothbrush, so I used the handy finger-stick in lieu and then the mouthwash beside the basin.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, I let out a deep breath and looked around the bathroom, not much of a better sight than the bedroom. The towels were white and pale purple, the soap purple, and more stickers dotted along the corners of the mirror above the basin.

I stared at my reflection, disgusted.

My hair Mohawked, askew to one side, a chunk plastered across my forehead in a teenage boy-crush style. I fussed it around with my hands. It looked as if I just had sex, which was better than it had moments prior.

I stepped back into her bedroom, peering amongst the sheets and all her hair. I sighed upon seeing her, confirming one thing. She had the youthful expression of someone I hoped was legal. I was twenty-eight, she perhaps twenty or twenty-one. I hoped.

Since she was still asleep, I returned to the bathroom and looked around for supplies to make myself appear more human. But I caught my reflection in the mirror and stalled. My tan skin and dark hair vividly contrasted against my steel-blue eyes. Most noticeably, a bloodshot glare, lined with purple bags, rolled lazily at the reflection.

I didn't suspect my pick-up techniques from last night would have worked if I'd looked like this.

Just twelve or so hours ago, one look at Vivienna and she was under my arm, my lips near her ear telling her things she wanted to hear.

I wished I'd had the foresight to stop drinking and pick up her nuisances: the squeals I thought made her sound cute, the frilly neckline of her dress more girly than sweet, and the bright purple shoes. The poor woman had a young girl trapped inside her body.

I looked through the doorway and whispered, "You're a little crazy, Purple Vivienna."

I never should have—

Stop, Harry. I told myself. Find some deodorant, get some clothes on, and get out of here.

So I did just that. Then I walked out of her bedroom without a note or text. I didn't have her number, plus she didn't care for me.

The others didn't, either. They thought they cared.

But they wanted the thrill of a night with the Harry Jamieson.

A night of passion and drinking with the idea of love.

One of us had to have our heads screwed on.

With mine teetering on the right side of sanity, I dashed out and found my car parked by the kerb outside her house, hoping she'd been sober enough by the end of the night to drive it. I knew with absolute certainty I wouldn't have gotten behind the wheel.

I didn't drive after drinking. Not anymore.

I travelled home, which took an hour — a long way for pussy, even by my standards — and did the whole routine: shower, force down some hangover-cure food, spend the rest of the day watching TV like a zombie. Late afternoon, I got onto all my emails, responding to meetings, questions and other ad hoc business, then prepared some training sessions for my swimmers.

When I woke the next morning, I stumbled drowsily onto my front lawn in just a pair of sleeping pants and retrieved the delivered roll of newspaper. My neighbour, having noticed my exit, darted her eyes away and scurried inside her house.

I never claimed to be a sight for sore eyes in the morning. But what the hell was that about?

Five minutes later, as I tipped a steaming cup of coffee to my lips, I saw the headline and cursed, spraying coffee all over my granite countertop.

*** About the Author ***

Writer, kid-at-heart, awesome partner, graphic design dabbler, book lover.

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