Posts from the “Excerpt Reveal” Category

The Spark Excerpt Reveal

Title: The Spark
Author: Vi Keeland
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 12, 2021
Excited about Vi Keeland’s upcoming release, The Spark? Check out this SNEAK PEEK of CHAPTER 1!

CHAPTER 1

Autumn

I’m definitely getting too old for this.

I tossed a pile of mail on the couch and plopped down beside it. It was barely six o’clock, and I wouldn’t have minded climbing into bed and calling it a day. I needed a vacation from my four-day mini vacation. Thank goodness I’d scheduled myself a weekend to recover. My girls’ trip/early bachelorette party in Vegas for my friend Anna—the one where we were all going to relax by the pool and get spa treatments—had turned into all-night clubbing and almost missing my flight home earlier today because I’d overslept. It had definitely been a while since I drank more than two glasses of wine in the span of a week, and I was feeling my ripe old age of twenty-eight before the sun had even set this Friday night. Thank God I didn’t have to work tomorrow.
I briefly considered going the hair-of-the-dog route and sucking back a vodka cran while zoning out on Netflix, but then my phone rang, crashing me back to reality.
Ugh…
Dad flashed on the screen. I should’ve just gotten it over with and spoken to him, but I didn’t have the energy. Nonetheless, allowing myself to avoid the stress speaking to my father would inevitably cause reminded me of the other thing I needed to do that I’d been avoiding all afternoon. Laundry. One of my least-favorite tasks—mostly because it required me to sit downstairs in my building’s dingy basement laundry room. Up until a few months ago, I would start my laundry and come back forty-five minutes later to make the switch to the dryer. But that practice had come to a halt after one of my loads went missing—an entire load of wet bras and underwear. Who the hell stole wet clothes? At least nab dry ones. Nevertheless, it was an expensive lesson, and now I didn’t leave the basement until my clothes were washed and dried.
Sighing, I begrudgingly went to the bedroom, where my suitcase still sat on the bed, and unzipped it. I’d packed a linen skirt on top that I hadn’t wound up wearing, and I figured I’d hang it in the bathroom and hope the wrinkles worked themselves out over the course of a couple of steamy showers. I hated ironing almost as much as I hated doing laundry downstairs.
But when I flipped open the top of the suitcase, my linen skirt wasn’t on top. At first I thought my bag must’ve been selected for search, and things hadn’t been put back in order… Though the wingtip shoe I lifted was most definitely not mine.

Shit.

I rummaged through the suitcase in a panic.
Slacks, running clothes, a men’s dress shirt… A sickening feeling washed over me, and I scrambled to look at the luggage tag. I’d never filled out the identification card inside, but the leather had my initials embossed on the outside.
And this one…had no initials.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

I’d grabbed the wrong bag off the luggage carousel. I started to sweat. All of my makeup was in that bag! Not to mention a week’s worth of my best outfits and shoes. I needed to get it back. Rushing to the kitchen, I grabbed my cell from the charger on the counter and Googled the number for the airline. After wading through a half-dozen prompts, I reached a recording.
“Thank you for calling American Airlines. Due to unprecedented call volume, your estimated wait time is approximately forty-one minutes.”
Forty-one minutes! I blew out a rush of air. Great. Just great.
In the meantime, while I waited on hold on speakerphone, listening to staticky music, it hit me that whoever’s luggage I had might very well have mine. I hadn’t even checked the luggage tag to see if, unlike mine, the identification information was filled in.
I zipped back down the hall to my bedroom.
Bingo!
Donovan Deckerkind of a cool name. And he lived here in the city! Thankfully, Donovan even had his phone number listed. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? I doubted it, but considering I still had forty minutes before I could speak to someone at the airline, I wasn’t losing much for trying. So I swiped to end my call. I started to punch in the numbers on the tag, and then decided to hit *67 first to make my number private. With my luck, the guy wouldn’t have my luggage, but he’d be a total creeper.
I was caught off guard when a man’s deep voice answered on the first ring. I hadn’t yet figured out what I was going to say.
“Uhhh. Hi. My name is Autumn, and I think I might have your luggage.”
“That was quick. I just hung up with you guys two minutes ago.”
He must’ve thought I was calling from the airline. “Oh, no. I don’t work for American. I traveled home this morning and must’ve grabbed the wrong bag at JFK.”
“What are your initials?”
“My initials?”
“Yeah, you know, the first letter of your first name and the first letter of your last name.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know what initials are. I just don’t understand why you would ask—Oh! Does that mean you have my luggage? I have my initials embossed on the luggage tag.”
“That depends on what your initials are, Autumn. The first letter matches.”
“My initials are AW.”
“Well, then it seems you are indeed the thief who clipped my luggage.”
Sure, I hadn’t checked my luggage tag, but it offended me that he was calling me a thief. “Wouldn’t we both be thieves? Since you’re in possession of my luggage?”
“I only took yours because it was the last one left rotating around the carousel. You see, unlike you, I checked the luggage tag the first time it passed, and when I saw it wasn’t mine, I left it for the rightful owner to claim. But the line at baggage customer service was twenty deep, and I had a meeting I was already late for. So I took the one I have hostage until the airline could sort it out.”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Are you here in the City?”
“I am. Could we possibly meet to swap bags?”
“Sure. When and where? I’m out now, but I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
The tag had an address on the Upper East Side, but I lived on the West Side, farther downtown. “Could we meet at the Starbucks on 80th and Lex?” That was closer to him, but at least I’d only have to drag the suitcase onto one subway.
“I can’t think of any excuse not to. What time?”
That was sort of a weird way to phrase a yes, and the way he emphasized the word excuse seemed odd. But hey, I was getting my bag back. So what if he turned out to be a little strange? At least I’d hidden my phone number, and we were meeting in a public place.
“How about eight?”
“I’ll see you then.”
It sounded like he was about to hang up. “Wait…” I said. “How will I know it’s you?”
“I’ll be the one holding your luggage, Autumn W.”
I chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Sorry…long week in Vegas.”
I bent and lifted the shoe from the top of the bag. Ferragamo. Expensive. And big, too. A quick peek revealed it was a size thirteen. The inner teenager in me couldn’t help but think big feet, big…. Plus, the guy had a deep, sexy voice. I would definitely be exploring more of the dude’s luggage after we hung up.
“I’ll meet you at eight,” he said.
“See you then.” I was just about to swipe my phone off when something hit me. Oh God! “Hello? Wait…are you still there?”
It took a heartbeat or two, but the sexy voice came back on the line. “What’s up?”
“Ummm… Did you…open my bag?”
“I unzipped it at the airport to make sure it wasn’t mine when I noticed the luggage tag initials.”
“Did you…see anything?”
“There was a pink thong on top, so that pretty much sealed the deal that it didn’t belong to me. But I didn’t rummage through, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I forgot I’d shoved that thong in at the last minute. It had been at the back of a drawer when I’d checked the hotel room one last time on my way out. But I’d take him seeing my underwear over the other stuff inside my bag. I blew out a sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s great. Thank you. I’ll see you at eight at Starbucks.”
“Whoa. Hang on a second—not so fast. You sounded pretty nervous that I might’ve gone through your bag. Are you hiding something sinister in there? I’m not going to be walking around with a suitcase full of drugs or something, am I?”
I cracked a smile. “No, definitely not. I just…I’d prefer if you didn’t go through it.”
“Did you rummage through mine?”
I glanced at the shoe in my hand. Taking out one measly piece of footwear wouldn’t be considered rummaging, right? Nah. “No, I didn’t.”
“Are you planning on it?” he asked.
I had no idea what the man looked like, yet I could tell by his voice that he was smiling now.
“Nope,” I lied.
“Alright. Then we have a deal. I won’t go through your bag, and you won’t go through mine.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Do I have your word on that, Autumn W? I might have some things I’d prefer you didn’t see in there.”
“Like what?”
He chuckled. “See you at eight.”
After we hung up, I tossed the shoe back into the suitcase and bent to close it. But as I reached for the zipper, my curiosity got the best of me. Was he just screwing with me, or did he really have something in here he didn’t want me to see? Of course, I knew what I had in mine, which made me extra curious.
I shook my head and started to pull the zipper closed. About halfway, I laughed out loud. Who was I kidding? Now that I didn’t have laundry to do, I had almost a full two hours to kill before I met Mr. Bigfoot. This suitcase would taunt me all that time. I’d most certainly give in eventually, so why not put myself out of that misery and just take a little look-see inside now? Then I’d be able to relax. He’d never know I hadn’t lived up to my end of the bargain. Not to mention, for all I knew, he was elbow deep in my suitcase right now. In that case, it would only be fair that I got to go through his, right?
I nibbled my lip for a few seconds as a wave of guilt washed over me. But I quickly forced that out of my mind. Of course I’m right.
Feeling justified now, I unzipped the suitcase and took a minute to mentally note how everything was packed: a white dress shirt was folded on top, and two shoes were set on either side, heels facing up. I carefully unpacked those and placed them on the bed next to the suitcase in the same order. The next layer had more folded clothes: two expensive dress shirts, a pair of sweats, boxer briefs, and a few T-shirts, one of which had something emblazoned on the front—familiar lettering that began HA—so I unfolded it to see what it said. Harvard Law.
Ugh. One of those. No wonder he could afford Ferragamo shoes.
Underneath the pile of clothes was a white laundry bag—the kind a hotel gives you to put your dry cleaning in, but most people used it to separate their dirty clothes. With no desire to sort through smelly socks, I started to fold the clothes back into the suitcase, feeling a twinge of disappointment. But when I smoothed out the layers of the pile, I felt something lumpy and hard underneath in the plastic laundry bag. So I took the clothes back out and looked inside, hoping to find…I’m not sure what. Though what I found was definitely not what I expected.
The bag was filled with at least twenty or thirty of those little shampoo bottles hotels give out. Actually, a closer inspection revealed some were conditioner and a few were moisturizer. Buried on the very bottom were also three little sewing kits and half-a-dozen toothbrushes wrapped in plastic—the kind you could get at the front desk of a hotel when you forgot yours.
What the heck had Mr. Bigfoot done? Rob a housekeeping cart? This kind of stuff, though a lesser quantity, is what you’d usually find in my suitcase since I was broke all the time. But it wasn’t the type of thing you’d expect in the suitcase of a man who had gone to Harvard and wore seven-hundred-dollar dress shoes.
Now I was even more curious to meet Donovan Decker.
***
I arrived at Starbucks almost twenty minutes early, so I went online to treat myself to a flat white with honey almond milk. Even ordering it had me salivating, thinking about the sweet, creamy drink. Expensive coffee was my indulgence, but it didn’t happen too often with the five-dollar price tag and my skimpy budget.
I stood at the end of the counter, waiting for my drink and mindlessly scrolling on my phone, when a man walking through the front door caught my attention.

Oh, wow.

Now that was one good-looking man. Describing him as merely tall, dark, and handsome didn’t cut it, not by a mile. Jet-black hair framed a magnificent face with a chiseled, masculine bone structure, full lips, and a Romanesque nose. I wasn’t the only one to notice, either. I watched as the Adonis took a step back outside to hold the door open for a woman exiting the store, and the poor lady caught one glimpse of him and literally tripped over her own feet.
Seemingly oblivious that he’d caused the incident, he extended a hand to help her up, flashed a killer smile, and strolled inside. His bright blue eyes scanned the room, stopping right on my ogling ones. Embarrassed at being caught, I quickly diverted my attention back to my phone. A few seconds later, I was still pretending to be enraptured by my screen when footsteps came to a halt in front of me. I glanced up and blinked a few times. The guy from the door flashed a crooked smile.
“Were you able to control yourself?”
My forehead wrinkled. “Excuse me?”
His eyes danced with mirth, and his voice lowered. “I bet you couldn’t.”
I stared at him for an awkward moment before finally shaking my head. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
The man’s brows furrowed. “We made a deal, remember? I wouldn’t go through yours, if you didn’t touch mine?”
I’d watched the man walk in, stood right in front of him staring for at least a solid minute, and it took until now for me to notice he had something in his hand.
“Oh my God. You have my suitcase!”
He laughed but still looked perplexed. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“I…I don’t know. I was thoroughly confused.”
“I thought you saw me walk in.”
I did. But I hadn’t made it past your face. “No, I hadn’t noticed. Sorry. I guess I was just zoning out.”
The barista behind the counter yelled my name. I was glad for an excuse to put some distance between this guy and me. I needed a moment to gather my wits. Though when I returned, I still felt a little off-kilter.
“Thank you for meeting me to swap suitcases,” I said. “I’m really sorry I took the wrong one.”
“No problem.”
I rolled his case forward and released the handle. But the Adonis didn’t do the same. In fact, he pulled my bag closer to his side.
“Before we switch…” He tilted his head and studied my face. “I’m curious to know if you kept your word.”
I mimicked his pose and tilted my head. “What if I say I didn’t?”
“Well, then you’d have to pay a penalty for violating the terms of our deal.”
I raised a brow, intrigued. “A penalty?”
He nodded. “That’s right. There’s a penalty.”
I laughed as I lifted my coffee for a sip. “I just got back from a girls’ weekend in Vegas. Pretty sure this overpriced drink just used up the last five dollars in my bank account.”
“I wasn’t referring to a monetary penalty.”
“What kind of a penalty, then?”
He stroked the stubble on his chin for a moment. “You’d have to have coffee with me.”
Did this guy really think that would be a hardship? I debated how to answer. If I told the truth, it would be embarrassing. I mean, I went through the man’s personal belongings. But the flipside was I’d get to check him out some more over coffee. Then again, I’d be agreeing to spend time with a complete stranger. Though…whenever I met a guy online, I usually met him at a coffeehouse, and I probably knew more about this guy after going through his suitcase than I would from an online chat. Not to mention, none of my online dates had looked like Donovan Decker lately. In fact, none had made it further than coffee in a while.
Adonis had been watching my face as I debated my answer. His smirk made me think he already knew I’d checked out his bag. So, what the hell?
I stood tall and met his stare. “Was the lady from housekeeping harmed in the robbery?”
His eyes narrowed for a heartbeat, but then a giant smile spread across his face. He held his hand out toward the seating area. “After you, Autumn W.”

★★★ 


Excited? We are too!

RELEASING
JULY 12th!

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Please note: There will not be an Amazon ebook pre-order, but it will be available on Amazon on release day.



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AUTHOR BIO
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty-five languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
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Trust Six Venom Release Blitz & Review


 

 

♦ ♦ ♦




CLAY

Marymount girls are good girls. We’re chaste, we’re untouched, and even if we weren’t, no one would know, because we keep our mouths shut.

Not that I have anything to share anyway. I never let guys go too far. I’m behaved. 

Beautiful, smart, talented, popular, my skirt’s always pressed, and I never have a hair out of place. I own the hallways, walking tall on Monday and dropping to my knees like the good Catholic girl I am on Sunday.

That’s me. Always in control. 

Or so they think. The truth is that it’s easy for me to resist them, because what I truly want, they can never be. Something soft and smooth. Someone dangerous and wild. 

Unfortunately, what I want I have to hide. In the locker room after hours. The bathroom stall between classes. The showers after practice. 

My head swimming. My hand up her skirt. 

For me, life is a web of secrets. No one can find out mine.  

OLIVIA

I cross the tracks every day for one reason—to graduate from this school and get into the Ivy League. I’m not ashamed of where I come from, my family, or how everyone at Marymount thinks my skirts are too short and my lipstick is too red. 

Clay Collins and her friends have always turned up their noses at me. The witch with her beautiful skin, clean shoes, and rich parents who torments me daily and thinks I won’t fight back.

At least not until I get her alone and find out she’s hiding so much more than just what’s underneath those pretty clothes. 

The princess thinks I’ll scratch her itch. She thinks she’s still pure as long as it’s not a guy touching her. 

I told her to stay on her side of town. I told her not to cross the tracks. 

But one night, she did. And when I’m done with her, she’ll never be pure again. 

*Tryst Six Venom is a standalone, new adult romance between the wealthy princess with a temper for what’s hers and the hard girl from the wrong crowd. One battles convention. The other, her pride. But nothing will stop it.

#TSV-6

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦





Y’all this is an amazing F/F story. Now I’m not one that ever pictured myself grabbing a f/f book but let me tell you the fact that Penelope Douglas wrote it had me intrigued. So I was all in for giving it a go. I’m so glad I did. This book was everything I hoped it would be and so so much more. Penelope Douglas killed it with this book!!

This was Clay and Liv’s story. The gorgeous rich girl and the hot theater girl from the swamp.  This was the ultimate opposites attract story and a total enemies to lovers masterpiece! It was so emotionally riveting and angsty and perfectly frustrating. I loved everything about this book. All the Jaeger brothers and their protectiveness over Liv.  I couldn’t put it down!! I was entranced from the moment I started.

It was smoking hot but more. This book was just a phenomenal love story. It was a perfect story about coming into your own and being happy to finally be who you are meant to be and finding your once person who helps you to do that. GAH!! It’s just so fantastic y’all! 

This is definitely a must read , people. FIVE STARS!! 

♦ ♦ ♦







♦ ♦ ♦

  

 

#TSV-8

I stalk down the nearly empty row, drop my bag, and look at her. She turns her head, sees me and rises, grabbing her backpack, but I slide into the seat, grab her wrist, and yank her ass back down. 

“Sit,” I growl through my teeth, feeling heat rise up my neck as she crashes back into the wooden pew, her jaw flexing. 

There’s no point in denying myself any of this. I’m a bitch, but only to her, and only because it feels so good. Fuck it. 

“Do something for me?” I ask her, keeping my voice low as students fill the rows around us, and the altar servers light the candles. “Move your ass a little faster down the field than my grandmother this Saturday, or is that too much trouble?”

Liv doesn’t look at me, just stares ahead as she lets out a quiet little laugh. “I haul ass down that field.” Relaxing back into her seat, she hangs her elbows over the back of the pew, and her shirt creeps up a little. I spot the switchblade she keeps hooked over the waist of her skirt, but hidden on the inside, that only I seem to know about. So far anyway. She goes on, “I’ll never understand how a princess who can’t pass a ball for shit and brags to anyone who will listen about being a Swiftie,” and she does air quotes, “‘even before she went pop’ is our team captain. Oh, wait. Yes, I do understand. Daddy is useful. When he’s there.”

My father didn’t get me that position. She can think what she likes. 

But I grin and turn toward the front of the church, my arm brushing hers. 

“Swiftie?” I say. “Aw, you stalk my Twitter.”

That was like four years ago when I said that. 

But she just mumbles, “I couldn’t care less about your Twitter and your twenty-eight followers.”

“At least I don’t lose a dozen every day,” I retort. 

Yeah, maybe I stalk her Twitter, too. And I don’t have twenty-eight followers. I don’t have as many as her, but it’s more than twenty-eight.

“The world just doesn’t like tattooed feminazis with hairy armpits,” I tell her, my gaze catching the dimple on her cheek as she smirks, “who pass judgments like all the other constipated Captain Americas on social media who act like they really know anything when they’re just angry their life sucks donkey nuts.”

The dimple grows deeper, her matte red lips pursing to keep her amusement at bay. My heart thumps, and for a moment, I can’t look away. Sometimes I get lost, looking at her. The shape of her nose that I’m kind of jealous of. How soft the lobe of her ear looks. The way she chews the corner of her mouth sometimes.  

“Is everything okay?” someone says, snapping me out of it. 

I turn my head, seeing Megan Martelle standing over us, holding a stack of collection baskets. Her blue eyes flit between Liv and me, knowing very well that this isn’t a friendly conversation, but lucky for her, this isn’t any of her damn business.   

“Fine, thanks,” I reply, my tone a big enough hint she’d have to be blind to miss. 

But she looks to Liv instead. “Liv?” 

Excuse me? It’s not the name. It’s how she says it. Like they know each other. 

Liv must give her some gesture or something, because Martelle gives me one last look and then slowly leaves, continuing down the aisle toward the back of the church without another word. 

What the hell is she thinking? Does she want to become my next hobby or something? 

I reach down and pull my backpack closer before turning my eyes back to Liv to see if she’s watching her leave. 

But she’s staring at me instead, amusement in her eyes.  

“What the hell are you smiling at?” I demand. 

She never loses her cool, and it pisses me off. 

But she just replies, “You have a tattoo.”

Her gaze drifts to my hand, and I squeeze my fingers together, covering it. All over again, I feel the needle carve into the inside of my middle finger on my left hand. 

Fair enough. I’d mocked tattooed feminazis, an umbrella term I tossed her under, when, in fact, she doesn’t actually have any tattoos. Not even the one of her family’s little Sanoa Bay gang—the snake and hourglass that she wears on a bracelet around her wrist. Her brothers all seem to have it inked on them somewhere. 

Her eyes hold mine, maybe waiting for a response or daring me for one, but the light coming in from the stained-glass windows catches the coppery glint of the strands in her dark hair, a lock hanging over her eye as the rest spills around her shoulders. A dozen or so little braids decorate her hair, none of the ends secured with rubber bands. She looks like a warrior girl in one of those futuristic dystopian movies.  

And all of a sudden, nothing is hot anymore. It’s just incredibly warm. 

I squeeze my fingers tighter, the lines inked on the inside of my finger making the four quarters of an inch on a ruler, very few ever notice the lines, and those who do probably just assume I’ve leaked pen on myself. 

Within that inch we are free. One inch. 

“Clay?” she says, her tone different. 

I don’t realize I’m staring off until I bring my eyes back into focus and see the black of her Polo shirt. I lift my gaze, seeing a worried expression on hers. 

Her eyes shift to my hand on the pew in front of us, and I notice that it’s shaking. 

“You okay?” she asks. 

I inhale hard, angry at myself. Why would I not be okay?

She grabs my backpack. “You need one of your little blue pills?”

But I snatch the pack out of her hands and glare at her. “If you let her touch you,” I bite out, changing the subject. “She will live to regret it. I don’t even have to leave this seat to ruin her life.”

Liv looks back at me, and I want to get closer—get in her face, because I want a reaction. 

“She won’t be able to take it,” I growl in a low voice. “I will keep going until she can’t take it.” 

I can ruin anyone’s life from my phone. It would be fun. And easy. 

“You’re not embarrassing our team,” I finally tell her. 

Megan was flirting yesterday. There’s no way in hell that’s happening. 

She holds my gaze and then draws in a breath, another fucking air of delight written all over her stupid, fucking face. “I don’t like women who chase me anyway,” she says. “When I want them, they know.”

A tingle spreads up my spine, and when I expect to feel anger at her boldness, something else comes over me instead. 

When I want them, they know. How do they know? What does she do?

But she rises from her seat without elaborating. “Excuse me,” she says, and takes her bag, trying to leave.  

But I stomp down the kneeler, grab her wrist, and yank her to her knees. She sucks in a breath as she catches herself on the pew in front of her, and I pick up my backpack and rise. 

“Sit your ass down,” I grit out. 

I don’t stay to see her reaction. I spin around, ignoring the spying eyes from those around us, and leave the chapel just as Mass begins. 

When I want them… 

I blink long and hard. Jesus. 


 

♦ ♦ ♦


 

#TSV-5

Read the First Chapter HERE!

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦



 

#TSV-3

Penelope Douglas is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her books have been translated into fifteen languages and include The Fall Away Series, The Devil’s Night Series, and the stand-alones, Misconduct, Punk 57, Birthday Girl, and Credence. Please look for Tryst Six Venom and Motel, as well as the Hellbent series, coming next!

She lives in Las Vegas with her husband and their daughter.

#TSV-4

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Tell Me Pretty Lies Excerpt Reveal

 

TELL ME PRETTY LIES by Charleigh Rose
Release Date: March 18th

 

Add to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46662113-tell-me-pretty-lie

 

 

Blurb:
Three things my mother acquired when she became engaged:

1. A brand new Tiffany’s ring.
2. A lavish home on Heartbreak Hill.
3. Three privileged stepsons.

The last thing I expected was to fall for one of them, least of all Thayer Ames.
Beautiful, brooding, and untouchable.
I knew it was a bad idea. He warned me himself.
But he was a thunderstorm, and I never could resist the rain.
It was perfect…
Until it wasn’t.
One night was all it took for our world to crumble around us, leaving only secrets and lies between us.
Now, I have to face him again, and the boy I used to know has become the man who loves to hate me.

 

 

 

About the Author:
Charleigh Rose lives in Narnia with her husband and two young children. She’s hopelessly devoted to unconventional love and pizza. When she isn’t reading or mom-ing, she’s writing moody, broody, swoony romance.

 

Connect w/Charleigh:
Website: https://authorcharleighrose.com
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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15569269.Charleigh_Rose
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Stolen Soulmate Excerpt Reveal

 

STOLEN SOULMATE by Mary Catherine Gebhard
Release Date: February 27th
Cover Designer: Hang Le

 

Add to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48765058-ss

 

 

PREORDER STOLEN SOULMATE TODAY!!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/37t1qun
Apple Books: https://apple.co/37solWH
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Kobo: http://bit.ly/2TWK05G

 

 

 

Blurb:
There’s a rule in Crowne Hall: never look a Crowne in the eyes.
It protects us more than them.

I broke it once, the night Grayson Crowne mistook me for his true love and stole my first kiss. I’ve regretted it every day since.

He hates me.
He torments me.

He won’t let me go, because that night he whispered a secret against my lips not meant for me. Grayson Crowne, heir to the Crowne empire and notorious playboy prince is… a virgin.

I signed a contract in my heart’s blood as much as ink: help him get back his love, repair what I broke. Give him my body, my soul, my heart, let him use all of me, so when the time comes to marry her, he won’t need me.

I shouldn’t need him.
But he’s my stolen soulmate, and I’m at his mercy.

 

Excerpt:
He trailed his nose along my neck.

“You’ve corrupted my soul completely.” He pulled back, forcing me to feel the earnest in his soul. “I don’t feel without you.” He ran his nose up and down my neck, voice warbled, raw.

 

 

About the Author:
I started writing the moment I could read. My first characters were Wibbley and Squig and I used MS Word and clipart to bring them to life when I was a kid in elementary school. I started seriously thinking about being a writer in High School and I remember the day exactly, because it was such an epiphany. I was always so uncertain. You know how everyone was always asking what you wanted to be when you were older? Well I NEVER could decide.

I wanted to be a marine biologist.

An actor.

A FIRE FIGHTER (thank you Joaquin Phoenix in Ladder 49 for that phase).

One day it hit me—A WRITER. I could do it ALL. Then you couldn’t stop me from writing. I penned my first novel at fifteen (but don’t ask me to show it to you, because it’s like I was in competition to beat the thesaurus). When I was diagnosed with a chronic illness, writing became even more important, because it became my therapy. When I wrote my characters, suddenly I wasn’t so alone.

These days you can find me daydreaming about where to travel with my husband, singing in my car, or lost in the newest K drama. And planning my next novel, of course

 

Connect w/Mary Catherine:
Website: https://www.marygebhard.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marycgebhard/
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/YouOwnMeMCG/
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Newsletter Signup: http://www.subscribepage.com/newsubsMCG

 

 

Keeper Excerpt Reveal

 

KEEPER by Harloe Rae
Release date: February 6th

 

Add to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48904783-keeper

 

Sign up to for the live alert :
https://shor.by/KeeperLiveAlert

 

 

Blurb:
“Will you help me remember?”

That’s the second thing I ask the stranger hovering just outside of my hospital room. To me, Decker Fredric is another nameless face in the crowd. To him, I’m a forgotten girl he hasn’t seen in years. But he agrees to be my crutch through the fog as if we were once friends.

Everything is a blank canvas spreading far and wide in front of me. Any direction I take, my steps stumble over the unknown. Decker becomes the only reliable constant in my life. I lean on him too hard, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His unwavering patience and guidance restore some semblance of normal I don’t recall having.

My attraction to Decker is instant, but he appears indifferent. Until the day his stare holds a bit too much heat. In return, I dare to let my touch linger. Our hugs cling tighter than a simple embrace should. But we have no business defying the distinct line cutting between us.

Decker Fredric was never mine to keep. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting him to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

The sole of my boot catches on the linoleum and releases a loud squeak. I cringe and freeze in place. The woman snaps upright and faces me. Everything around us tunnels until she’s all that remains. No fucking way.

An eerie tremor ripples down my limbs, and I almost drop the bouquet. I blink, rubbing my eyes for good measure. She’s still sitting there.

Hot damn. Delaney Wallace is back in Silo Springs. The years have been very good to her. Most of her body is hidden underneath a hospital gown, but that’s not what I’m gawking at. A silky cascade of red waves frame her porcelain face. There’s a small smattering of freckles dotting her button nose. Pink splotches decorate her skin, revealing a roadmap of misery, but rather than grief-stricken, Delaney appears cleansed. I’ve heard a good cry can be cathartic.

Mile-long lashes flutter at me, concealing those stunning baby blues from view. Delaney was the beauty queen without a crown, the girl with brains to spare. Varsity athlete. Way out of my league. That didn’t stop me from lusting after her. I was a cocky little shit, but she never fell for my crap. Like I said, smart girl.

But now? She’s staring at me with zero recognition. This girl from my not-that-distant past eyes me with the scrutiny of a detective. The expression on her face makes me believe she’s actually peering through me. Doesn’t she recognize me? It hasn’t been that long. I lift a hand to the thick beard covering my jaw. The facial hair is new since high school. It’s possible she doesn’t know who I am.

Our silent stare down continues. Maybe I look like a different guy. I’m the one to break, cracking under the intensity of her piercing gaze. “Dell?”

Her forehead dents with a deep furrow. I can almost hear the cogs in her mind working overtime. After a few tense moments, she appears to shake herself out of the stupor. Her gaze slides down my body with a slow assessment before lifting to retrace the same path.

I clear the gravel from my throat and try again. “Do you remember me, Dell?”

 

 

 

About the Author
Harloe Rae is a USA Today & Amazon Top 10 bestselling author. Her passion for writing and reading has taken on a whole new meaning. Each day is an unforgettable adventure.

Harloe is a Minnesota gal with a serious addiction to romance. She’s always chasing an epic happily ever after. When she’s not buried in the writing cave, Harloe can be found hanging with her hubby and son. If the weather permits, she loves being lakeside or out in the country with her horses.

Harloe is the author of the Reclusive series, Watch Me Follow, #BitterSweetHeat Series, Ask Me Why, and BREAKER. These titles are available on Amazon.

 

 

 

 

Connect w/Harloe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/HarloeBB
Amazon: http://bit.ly/HarloeOnAmazon
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Facebook Page: http://Facebook.com/authorharloerae
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/harloerae/
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Book & Main: https://bookandmainbites.com/harloerae
Find all the latest on her site: www.harloe-rae.blog
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