segunda-feira, 20 de junho de 2016

♡ Release Blitz ♡ Say You'll Stay by Corinne Michaels @AuthorCMichaels @InkSlingerPR #Live #OneClick

Say You'll Stay
Corinne Michaels

Release Date: June 20th 2016

✾ Synopsis ✾

One word.

It was all he had to do. Instead, he got on that bus and took my heart with him.

That was seventeen years ago.

I moved on. Marriage. Kids. White picket fence. Everything I ever wanted, but my husband betrayed me and I was left once again.

Alone, penniless, and with two boys, I had no choice but to return to Tennessee. He wasn't supposed to be there. I should've been safe. However, fate has a way of stepping in.

This time around, the tables are turned. It's my decision. Second chances do exist, but I don't know if we can repair what's already been broken...

** This book is a STANDALONE **

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✿ The Author ✿

Corinne Michaels is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author of The Salvation Series (Beloved, Beholden, Consolation, Conviction & Defenseless). She's an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife. After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness.

Both her maternal and paternal grandmothers were librarians, which only intensified her love of reading. After years of writing short stories, she couldn't ignore the call to finish her debut novel, Beloved. Her alpha heroes are broken, beautiful, and will steal your heart.

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♡ Cover Reveal ♡ Battler by C.L. Masonite @EJBookPromos #ComingSoon #PreOrder #OneClick

♡ Cover Reveal ♡

C.L. Masonite

Release Date: July 20, 20160

Genre: NA/Contemp Romance

Cover Design: Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs

For years I have been cast away — afar, out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. But now I'm back. I've been brought back into the fold, and I don't know why. But I'll find out, no matter the cost.

I'll also break free from the shark infested waters littered with those that seek to restrain me, to keep me in line — my ex, my father, my mother, my sister.

And as for the Wolfe twin brothers, I'll take them on. And I'll take them out too.

Drasko Wolfe thinks that he'll make me his — but I am all mine. If he thinks I am going to be just another conquest, and do things at his behest then he may do so at his own coroner's inquest.

I am not just fighting for my survival, I am fighting for my little brother's protection, and that makes me doubly motivated and doubly dangerous.

I — Riletta Kasonite will best them all and come out on top. I will bow those who seek to hurt me to my will until they renounce their lies — until they come clean and their secrets are exposed. Until I get what I want.

WARNING: Contains countless confrontations, not to mention mature, young adult/ adult situations too.

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Something was wrong. I jerked awake. I looked up at the sky and noted it was the early hours of the morning. I tossed the covers aside and got up to press my head next to the door. I could just make out faint tortured whimpers. A foreboding deep sense of eeriness crept over me. That couldn't be from Drasko, could it? I pushed the door open, wincing at the creak and quietly walked through the hall, the noises getting louder with each step.

I bit down hard on my lip, the pain grounding me as it shook away the last tendrils of sleep to ensure that my eyes and ears were not deceiving me. Drasko was half-awake and half-asleep, the sheet was barely wrapped around his body as his hips and arms roiled and flayed away from an unknown hell. His body was glistening with sweat and the sounds coming from his mouth were unbearable, like a wounded animal.

I placed a calming hand to his chest. Like the effect of a gunshot entering him his body rippled and fell back. His cries stopped and everything was deathly silent. I even held my breath, was he awake or sleeping?

His eyes shot wide open, his ice blue pupils enlarged. His hands reached out and grabbed my waist pulling me on top of him then in a blurrily fast jujitsu like movement, he moved his hips and switched my superior position to being underneath him. His two arms came up next to my shoulders, caging me in.

My hand was still pressed to his chest despite the rearrangement. I could feel his heart beating abnormally fast. No words were spoken as we looked into each other's eyes, waiting for him to catch his breath and for his pulse to return to normal.

He was completely unguarded, like I had never seen him before. His eyes were sheened over as if he was still caught in the past. I wanted to draw him out.

I pressed my other hand to his stubbly cheek feeling it rasp tenderly against my skin. He instinctively hung his face down into it, releasing a sigh as if I was helping to relieve him of his burden.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm never okay," he uttered croakily.

I leaned up despite his standoff tense posture and wrapped my arms and legs around him. I could feel his weak limbs ready to fail on him. To prevent himself from crushing me, he reversed our positions. I could see that in that moment, I held all the power. But I wouldn't abuse him like obviously others had before.

All of me was pressed against all of him. He didn't hug me back, but he didn't push me off either. I began to loosen my grip once his heavy breathing had abated and the shadows had faded from his eyes.

"Don't leave — stay." Those three words tore me apart. No one had ever stayed for me, there was no way that I was leaving him. I nodded my head. "I'm here."

Writing isn't a job – it's not a way of life - it's a dream!

I lived thousands of moments and I've been to thousands of places crafted by the soul crushing and soul mending words of thousands of authors. (Metaphorically raises glass of gin and tonic) Here's to hoping I've created one thousandth of a moment of life for you...

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♡ Release Blitz + #Giveaway ♡ Pieces of Camden by Yessi Smith @_YessiSmith_ @loveaffairwfict #Live #OneClick

Pieces of Camden
Yessi Smith

Genre: New Adult

Release Date: June 20th 2016

This isn't a love story, but it is a story of love.
And hate.

And struggle.

And addiction.

Then there's Yanelys Sanchez — the one who made the journey worthwhile. She was the one who picked up my broken pieces, smoothed out the rough edges, and made me whole.

At least as much as I can be.

I'm still failing, still recovering, still trying. I'm only human — drunk on the idea that she, and only she, can save me.

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Worn shoes and tattered clothes are a direct contradiction to how I carry myself. Even when the smell rolling off my body turns my empty stomach, I keep my shoulders square and my head held high. Not that it matters. No one looks directly at me anyway.

I see myself though — the vision of broken glass bleeding on humanity — but I won't succumb to the hunched figure of a tired man. Society doesn't see the fragility of my grief or my desperation for help.

No, what they see is the reality I’ve painted for them. A cold thin figure with sunburned skin and the pitiless smile I grant them if they look in my direction. Wincing, they turn away to look at anything but me.

I'm worse than invisible. At least the invisible can't be seen.

Me? I'm an outcast. Deplorable by definition. Unworthy. Unapproachable.

Twenty-five years old and completely alone.

My only human contact comes from rushed figures pushing past me as I walk on the sidewalk to make my way home from work.

Home. The word itself is laughable. As if I have a home.

I have a place where I stay. A couch I sleep on. But no actual home to speak of.

There are days though, days like today, when I don't want the company of my old pastor. When I don't want a couch or a bed or even a corner to sleep in.

I just want myself. My eternal silence where all there is to hear is the crushing of every broken dream I've had since youth.

The North Carolina rain complements my damp mood, so it's only fitting for me to be outdoors for a while. Unemployed from a job I never really needed. A martyr made to survive off scraps because of a dignity I can't be stripped of. It's all I have because they took away everything else. I don't know what I did to piss Karma off, but she's an unforgiving bitch. Relentless in delivering her punishments to me.

In my worn shoes and tattered clothes, I lie down on the concrete floor outside of an abandoned building and let the sky's tears fall on my face. The cold rain makes my teeth chatter as lightning flashes above me.

A lifetime ago, I felt the gentle caress of a palm on my cheek. And, damn it to hell, I want it back. I want her back. The familiarity of her touch. The lull of her voice. Her eyes that could see past every mask I wore, the answers to questions she never asked. All of the broken promises I uttered in desperation, fully aware I could never keep them.

Her warmth soothed me, made me whole.


I met Yanelys when we were eight years old. She was my beginning, the reason I started living, and I always thought she'd be there until the end.

From the moment I met her, she became my constant. When my parents fought, I'd quietly creep out of my bedroom window and into her bedroom, knowing she'd keep her window unlocked in case I needed her. When the police arrested my parents and took me away, her parents gave me a home after my social worker had deemed them fit as my guardians. And when we were teenagers living under the same roof, I'd sneak into her room and crawl into her bed, needing her to hold me together.

The only time we were away from each other was when I'd lived in a group home. This happened before we lived together, before I knew what it meant to have a home, when my heart still teetered on the edges of dejection. My life at the home wasn't optimal, but it was safe, which somehow made everything worse.

I was twelve years old and away from my best friend, my safety blanket, who knew all my secrets and kept her promise to never expose them — until she felt she no longer had a choice.

I never held that against her. Even on the longest nights on a hard, lumpy bed, I'd count my blessings with every inhale and exhale. I was alive because of her. My dad would have beaten me to death if she hadn't told someone.

The day she'd told her parents, her dad had shown up at my house and held my parents at gunpoint while Yanelys and her mom broke into my bedroom through the window. They stayed with me until the police and ambulance arrived. That night, I thought God had finally seen me. I was safe.

But then the police took me away. Sure, no one hurt me while I was at the group home, and Yanelys and her parents would come visit me, but it wasn't the same. I could no longer make that split-second decision to seek out Yanelys when I couldn't cope.

And there was so much I couldn't cope with back then.

There's still so much I can't cope with.

Starting with Yanelys's tears.

She was the one who pieced me together when I was nothing more than a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.

And I was the one who tore us apart, ripping my heart straight out of my chest in the process.

It's okay though. Without her, I have no use for a heart anyway.

Forced or not, it was my decision, my doing.

My consequences.

Yessi Smith lives in South Florida with her husband, seven-year-old son, and newborn baby. She is also owned by a neurotic border collie and "ferocious" rottweiler.

She has a bachelor's degree in business management and a master's in human resource management. She has held several jobs, from picking up dog poop to upper management positions. Now, she hopes to leave the business world behind, so she can live full-time in a world that does not exist until she places her fingers on a keyboard and brings it to fruition.

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♡ Hottie of The Day ♡ Simone Curto

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