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Dark Opius
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Helen noticed James, her husband of thirteen years, glance lovingly in her direction. He was the strong silent type, a big man, even for Helen’s five-foot-eleven, admittedly large-boned frame. He watched the road ahead as he leaned forward to change the radio station back to the original soft rock. Shaking her head, Helen smiled. She knew he wouldn’t tolerate her new favorite gospel station for long. This time she had timed him, and he’d made it all of…she glanced at the digital hologram on her arm…approximately five-and-a-half minutes. Her thick black cropped hair shifted slightly with the force of the wind as the car moved along. She never wore much makeup—always making do with a subtle tint to her full, well-shaped lips. Her clothes were understated and easy because she hated frills and fuss of any kind. Few people owned or drove their own vehicles anymore. Most made their commutes through air shuttles, free transportation services for people who worked at least twenty-hours a week. The air shuttles zipped through the air on hidden railways, commissioned and supported by the national government’s alliance with major advertisers. “We interrupt this broadcast with an emergency message from—” The announcer’s voice was abruptly cut off by more static, heavier this time. “Wonder what’s going on now?” James asked. “No telling. Always something. I don’t know what this world is coming to.” Helen closed her eyes, unconcerned about the interruption. Enjoying riding with the top down in their long, antique Chevy convertible, she reminisced about her life with James. It seemed only yesterday they had met at the small teachers’ college in Gainesville. She had been in the middle of a heated argument with a chauvinistic male classmate who did not believe a woman should be head of the athletic department. Her classmate was slowly backing down, but she would never forget the way James stood beside her with his muscular arms folded, quiet yet protective. Her smile broadened as she considered the many changes that had taken place in her life. Once married to James, she had set yet another precedent by opening her now-successful sports bar that doubled as a homeless shelter. James assisted her every evening after work except Fridays in the fall and winter months. His Fridays were usually filled with coaching high school football games. It was hard to believe thirteen years could pass so quickly. The couple had been accompanied by static for the last five minutes, but Helen didn’t mind. She was so happy James had suggested the country drive, no destination in mind. She opened her eyes, enjoying the breeze and the closeness of her James, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. Better yet, she knew she had to be one of the most blessed. Closing her eyes again, she immersed herself in her own private praise session, but in the middle of her silent prayer of thanks, she heard James’ voice louder than she’d ever heard him yell before. His alarm registered inside her, and a heart-wrenching scream began to explode between her ribs before she could open her eyes to witness what appeared to be Hell opening to devour them. Debris flew at them full force, seemingly in slow motion and from every direction. Overtaken by dark, violent clouds, she saw the air shuttles and rails fall from the sky, the heavy metal train cars flying helplessly through the air like paper on the wind just before the sun completely disappeared, abandoning them to complete and utter darkness. Helen heard rubber fighting to maintain position as their large vehicle screeched and turned, trapped in the sudden, ungodly storm. James’ voice crescendoed to summon non-existent assistance, lost in the howling wind, and metal clashed to meld and change form as the car skidded, levitating on a heavy dark cloud. Finally, the car rolled aimlessly, colliding with everything in its path. The last thing she remembered was reaching for James as she called out, “Oh, Lord, please have mercy!” Helen tried to open her eyes, but they seemed to be welded shut by some unknown force. She could no longer hear James, nor could she feel him. A powerful sense of foreboding overtook her, causing her normally strong heart to palpitate wildly. Someone else was there, had been there through the storm. She heard the whispers that seemed to emanate from a source connected to her heart. “Be quiet. Be still. It is out of your control, and all will work out as it should.” The voice was not one, but two—male and female speaking as one—as if unsure which would comfort her most.
GIVEAWAY!
Title: Rules of Friendship
Author: C.A. Harms
Genre: A Friends-To-Lovers Standalone Romance
Release Date: August 6, 2018
As a guy, the number one rule to being best friends with a girl should be simple…
Never, and I do mean never, fall in love with her.
Oh and you should never fantasize about her either.
Believe me, that situation can get messy really fast and leave you with nothing but one hell of an awkward mess on your hands—literally.
Reese and I have been through everything together; our bond is deep. But I am going down fast, and I fear there is no way to stop it. I spend most of my time hiding my body’s reaction to her because like I said: just friends.
But things are changing. We are changing.
I no longer see her as just Reese, my best friend. When I look at her now, I see a gorgeous woman that takes my breath away. I see my future. But what if she doesn’t see me the same way?
I can’t risk losing her…
The fear of screwing everything up is excruciating. So that’s why I have chosen to stick to the rules. The Rules of Friendship that is.
She was off limits. Plain and simple.
C.A. Harms is like any other addicted reader. She enjoys happy endings and HEA love stories. She hasn't always been a lover of Romance and had once been addicted to a good Mystery. Just recently she has taken on a new liking and now is a full blown Romance novel addict.
She lives in Illinois and enjoys spending time with her husband and two children. You will always find her with her kindle or paperback in hand as it is her favorite pass time.
The Gathering
Excerpt:
Introduction Jamie For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be the center of attention. I had it before. And I have it again, now. But for entirely different reasons. My name is James Randall Ryan IV. My nearest and dearest call me Jamie. My father, who is (well, now, was) not amongst my nearest and dearest, called me Jimmy. I hate that nickname, and when he died, I thanked every God in Heaven that I never had to hear it again. I wish I could say I otherwise missed the old man, but, unfortunately, I would be lying to you. And I wouldn’t lie to you. Not these days. And not about that. But when I was onstage, I was known as Ivan Sapphire – glam rock god, sex symbol, pussy connoisseur, Dionysus in leather pants, Jesus Christ in sunglasses, High Priest of the Bacchanalia, Son of a Bitch of a Preacher Man. I was all those things, and more. I was the lead singer of a band called Faust. We – myself, William Lynn on guitar, Jordan Barker on bass, and the Reverend Tom Newman (yes, he really was an ordained minister – granted, he got ordained online, but that’s just as valid of an ordainment as any other) on drums – played a balls-to-the-wall, blistering brand of rock’n’roll that earned us accolades, fans, fame, and a lot of money. New York City was, at first, just our home. When Faust first started playing together, it became our playground. And by the time our careers were in full swing, New York City was ours for the taking. Like any other band, we paid our dues in the beginning: playing Tuesday night open mics in dive bars with no name, getting tossed a $20 to split four ways at the end of the night, having to slog it out at a job the next day while nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon-induced hangover – a job that we didn’t want to be in, in the first place, because we were on the fast track to rock stardom, even if only in our own minds. I remember the night that all changed, though. I see it clearly in my mind, as though it all happened last night. It was a Friday night at the legendary CBGB. We were opening for a pretentious, shoe-gazing hipster rock band. I wish I could remember their name…Ars Poetica, I think it was. But it doesn’t really matter now. At that time in New York City rock’n’roll history, our brand of music had gone out of fashion. Gone were the days of leather-clad lesser rock gods and their songs of hedonistic excess – in our place were unshaven, unkempt navel-gazers who sang music to slit your wrists by. This was the soundtrack to your Prozac-induced manic-depressive state, kids – 50% less pussy, 100% more bitching and moaning! Brooklyn hipster pieces of shit. We opened for Ars Poetica because Hilly – the legendary owner of CBGB – wanted to give us a fair shot, but knew that most people were there for Ars Poetica. He figured, with all things being equal, he’d be able to earn us a few extra fans if we had a chance to get in front of their crowd. He told us that, of the hundreds that paid the $25, with a two-drink minimum, we’d be able to get a few new converts. Ten, maybe. If we got lucky. He kept insisting that we should remain optimistic, but realistic. And if we did well, he promised, we would be able to have a headlining show on a Friday night; prime real estate for a New York City rock band to obtain, at that time. And take home $100 to split between the four of us as a consolation prize. Hilly. May he forever rock’n’roll in the afterlife. The night came, and we stood before the crowd – wall-to-wall people, as far as the eye could see. The faces all seemed to blend into one another – men and women, black and white and every shade of tan in between, long hair and short hair in every color of the rainbow. It was the finest representation of the old New York that so many people had come to know and love. The great American melting pot. The rock’n’roll dream come true – the music serving as the great unifier of people from the world over, and our performance, a communion of souls. Take, and eat – for it is my body of work, and it will be given up for you. I remember feeling so nervous. I remember standing up on that stage – that filthy, piss-ridden stage that felt like it would collapse under my feet any minute – with Willie, Jordan, and Tom – my three brothers-in-arms – and looking out into the crowd to find a friendly face. Although it didn’t happen often, if I ever got onstage and found myself feeling nervous at the prospect of performing for a maddening crowd, I would often look out into the audience and find a friendly face to sing to for most of the night. Sometimes it worked – just as many times, it didn’t – but either way, it would end with me ending up with Mrs. Right Now, with her pretty little skirt – often two sizes too tight – torn off and tossed in the back of our van and her shirt around her ears, followed by proclamations of eternal (or, at least until one or both of us got off) love, heavy panting and sweating, and various bodily fluids splattered to the walls, the floor, the seat cushions…anything that was within arm’s reach, really. Paradise by the dashboard light, as the old song goes. That poor, stinking van. It wasn’t that I was a man-whore, so much that I was ready and amenable to whatever was nearby that was equally ready and amenable. And who wouldn’t be, really, in the same circumstances? You mean to tell me that any straight, red-blooded American man who has been granted access to every size, shape, and flavor of pussy on the island of Manhattan will think of being a monk? I think not. And if there’s one universal truth about musicians in general – and lead singers in particular – it’s that we get into the business of music for one reason: pussy. The fame is nice, if you can get it – the money is definitely nice, if you can get it – but we get it all because, at the end of the day, we want prime-cut tenderloin pussy, and that, you can definitely get. But that night, the friendly face I locked onto would rock my world in a way no one had ever done before. Angelique. I knew, from the minute I laid eyes on her, that I would never want anyone else ever again. And I never did. Seeing her inspired me to play like I’d never played before. Oh, we were never terrible – in fact, left to our own devices, we were incendiary – but that night, we played as though the world was burning down around us. We sang the soundtrack to the apocalypse, caterwauling and squealing and throbbing and pounding our way through the lyrics and music as if it was our last night on Earth. New York City was a big, beautiful bitch, and she was ours for the fucking. And we fucked her but good – hard, long, slow, all night long, and we were all left panting and sweating thereafter. We tried to set the night on fire. And we succeeded by orders of magnitude. And by the end of our set, we not only had the audience leaving CBGB with us – leaving barely anyone behind for Ars Poetica, those poor, navel-gazing, wrist-slitting fucking Brooklyn hipster pieces of shit – but I had Angelique’s number in my phone. Hilly gave us the Friday night headlining slot the following week. Angelique gave me her virginity after that show. And thus, began our rocket ride to the top. The press started to come out in droves to our shows after that first fateful headlining show. Article after article, and photo after photo, came out to tell all of New York City about us. We played every envied stage on the island of Manhattan: CBGB, The Continental, Arlene Grocery, The Bowery Ballroom, Mercury Lounge, Joe’s Pub, and The Bitter End. Once, twice, three times around the island, and back again for more. The Pirates of Happenstance. The High Priests of Chaos. The Lords of Misrule. We sold our souls to rock’n’roll, and our bodies to the New York City rock scene. It was amazing. They lavished us with every accolade they could imagine, and even some we’d never heard before: Willie and I were the New Millennial Glimmer Twins – Batman and Robin with Les Pauls – Genghis Khans on a savage panty raid. As a collective, we were known as the four horsemen of the rock apocalypse, effectively rendering every other genre of music in New York City completely redundant. We were the best rock band in captivity – the buck-skinned prophets of a dying brand of cock-rock, fueled by illegal drugs and cheap beer and late nights and early mornings and starving ourselves for days on end (sometimes because we weren’t hungry, other times because there was nothing to eat, and still other times because illicit drugs are a hell of an appetite suppressant…). We were equal parts savages, sinners, saviors and saints. We were all those things, and more. It was all said, written, blogged about and photographed, documented for all of prosperity and placed in a time capsule for history to be the judge. Let history be the judge of us, and condemn us to a life of Hell, because we experienced Heaven on Earth. The whole thing started with rock’n’roll, and then it was all out of control. And it was all true. Author Bio: With an impressive list of credentials earned over the course of two decades, Bernadette R. Giacomazzo is a multi-hyphenate in the truest sense of the word: an editor, writer, photographer, publicist, and digital marketing specialist who has demonstrated an uncanny ability to thrive in each industry with equal aplomb. Her work has been featured in Teen Vogue, People, Us Weekly, The Los Angeles Times, The New York Post, and many, many more. She served as the news editor of Go! NYC Magazine for nearly a decade, the executive editor of LatinTRENDS Magazine for five years, the eye candy editor of XXL Magazine for two years, and the editor-at-large at iOne/Zona de Sabor for two years. As a publicist, she has worked with the likes of Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson and his G-Unit record label, rapper Kool G. Rap, and various photographers, artists, and models. As a digital marketing specialist, Bernadette is Google Adwords certified, has an advanced knowledge of SEO, PPC, link-building, and other digital marketing techniques, and has worked for a variety of clients in the legal, medical, and real estate industries. Based in New York City, Bernadette is the co-author of Swimming with Sharks: A Real World, How-To Guide to Success (and Failure) in the Business of Music (for the 21st Century), and the author of the forthcoming dystopian fiction series, The Uprising. She also contributed a story to the upcoming Beyonce Knowles tribute anthology, The King Bey Bible, which will be available in bookstores nationwide in the summer of 2018. Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter GIVEAWAY! Synopsis: Jahlil Adams is just a regular teenager. In fact, you could say that he is “super regular” with his glasses, comic books, and cheap fashion sense. He doesn’t want popularity. He doesn’t want a pretty girlfriend. He wants to just be who he is. Well that and not to be bullied by Max Maniac. Yet, everything changes once Mr. Malachi gave Jahlil a necklace that he didn’t even want. After that, everything was not the same. In fact, Jahlil began to realize that there was much more to who he was. There was much more to who Mr. Malachi was. There was much more to his existence. The lid of limitations was lifted from Jahlil’s life. Now, all that mattered was the limitations that the sky had to offer.
Series: Off Track Records
Author: Kacey Shea
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 16, 2018
Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
I can’t help where I come from, or who I am, but believe me when I say it’s not what I want. Not that anyone’s ever asked. My dreams don’t fit within the confines of my parents’ wishes, so when I’m presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, I grab it by the balls.
Playing drums for rock sensation 3UG is everything I’ve wanted and more. Yeah, so the gig requires a dash of blackmail and a slip of betrayal. I can live with that if it brings me the freedom I’ve always wanted.
There’s just one problem.
The girl.
Cliché, and yet I can’t help myself when it comes to her innocence and allure. She has secrets. Don’t we all? But if I don’t uncover what she’s hiding, my time playing rock god is up.
No girl is worth that. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
HINDER is the third Off Track Records novel, and can also be read as a standalone. Want to start from the beginning? Detour and Derailed are available to read free with KindleUnlimited too!
The bed dips as he sits and stretches across the mattress on his side. “So, what should we do tonight?”
“I was going to sleep.”
His brow rises with a hint of mischief. “Are you accepting applicants to join you?”
“Leighton.” I draw out his name, pretending I want nothing of the sort, when in reality there’s no need to apply. He’d be hired on the spot.
“What? Just saying. I’m interested. And I’ve been told I make a great cuddler.”
“Cuddling?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “You list that on the application?”
“Hell, yeah. Right next to gives good oral and open to kinky shit, and underneath always uses protection.”
Lord. My body tingles with the thought and I can feel a blush move up my chest. I school my features so I don’t give away the surge of desire rushing through my veins. “Regular Prince Charming.”
He laughs. “You’re fun to tease. I can see why Austin does it all the time.”
Teasing. Because he’s really not that into you.
He holds a hand up before I can reply. “Mostly teasing . . . I actually undersold my cunnilingus abilities. I’m quite the stud in that department.”
Oh. The breath whooshes from my chest and my entire body comes to attention. “Do you . . . ?” I bite at my lower lip and drop my gaze to the bedding, tracing my fingernail along the white sheets. “Do you have a lot of experience with that? To be able to list your advanced oral on a resume like that?”
“You’re adorable when you blush.” He pushes up onto his elbow and reaches for me with his other arm. The pad of his thumb brushes over my cheek, lingering as his voice drops to barely a whisper. “It starts at your cheeks, at least I think it does, but I’d be okay with going shirtless to confirm.”
“Stop.” I swat his hand away and set my mostly full glass of champagne on the nightstand. It gives me time to relax my nerves. He has no clue the feelings that stir in my gut when he does stuff like that. How one playful touch lights my skin on fire with an ache for more. I take one of the pillows and hug it to my chest before facing him again. “I was asking a serious question.”
“You want to know how I got good at eating pussy.” His brows shoot up and that damn smirk tells me how entertaining he finds my question.
I don’t need a mirror. My cheeks heat to the point they must match my hair. “Screw you!” I lift the pillow and toss it at his head, but he only catches it and laughs.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He settles back on his side and I mirror the movement so we’re facing each other. He levels his stare and swallows, his strong jaw working back and forth. There’s no longer a hint of humor in his gaze. “Serious answer. Something I don’t love to share, because, well, it’s not as impressive as the alternative.”
His response piques my interest. “I’m waiting.”
He winces. “I watched a lot of porn.”
“Oh.” It’s the only response I can muster as my body comes alive again with a flood of desire. Why is the thought of that so hot? It shouldn’t be.
“Yeah, mostly amateur stuff. Those women don’t fake orgasms as much, so I figured it was the place to start. And, well, ever since I started applying my research to actual partners . . . ” His gaze lifts from the space between us to my stare. “I haven’t had an unsatisfied customer yet.”
“That’s . . . ” Sexy. Hot.
“Pathetic?” he offers, scrunching up his nose.
“I was going to say resourceful.” I bite my lip, because maybe he’s onto something. One of the worries I have about sex, once I find a partner I want to share the experience with, is that I won’t know what the hell I’m doing. “Maybe I should . . .” I catch myself before the rest of the words tumble from my mouth.
“What was that?” He tilts his chin with his gaze.
My face heats with the fire of a thousand suns and I can’t look him in the eye.
“Opal. Oh, Opal . . .” The way he says my name only makes this more embarrassing. “Are those naughty thoughts going through that gorgeous head of yours? Because I’m gonna need you to share.”
I scoff and meet his gaze. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Come on, please? I’ve always wanted to get inside you.” He coughs and clears his throat. “Your head, that is.”
“Mmm hmm.” Eying him suspiciously, he only laughs.
“I swear it. Tell me, Opal. I’ll keep your secret.”
Kacey Shea is a mom of three, wife, and indie author who resides in sunny Arizona. She enjoys reading and writing romance novels as much as her son loves unicorns, which is a lot.
When she's not writing you will find her playing taxi cab to her children while belting out her favorite tunes, meeting friends or family for food and to share some laughs, or sweating it out in the gym. Kacey finds that picking up heavy weights repeatedly is good for her mental health as much as it is for the physical.
She has an unhealthy obsession with firefighters. It could be the pants. It could be the fire. It's just hot. On occasion she has been known to include them, without their knowledge, in her selfies outside the grocery store.
Kacey one day aspires to be a woman hand model in a sexy photo shoot. You know, the woman's hand raking across the muscular back or six pack stomach of the male fitness model. Yep, that hand.
Until that day comes she will continue writing sexy, flirty romance novels in hopes to bring others joy!
Kacey enjoys interacting with her fans so please feel free to stalk her on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter.
Best Served Cold, an all-new standalone romantic comedy from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Emma Hart is coming September 25th!Best Served Cold by Emma Hart Genre: Romantic Comedy Publishing Date: September 25th, 2018 Cover Designer: Emma Hart Revenge is a dish best served cold. Which is a real problem when the attraction runs red-hot. Ice-cream store owner Raelynn Fortune has everything but her last name—fortune. Despite living in a Floridian hotspot for tourists, she just can’t get her business back off the ground. And she knows why. Her rival store next door is run by nobody other than her ex, and with his fancy-schmancy concoctions, he’s taking all the clients two generations of her family cultivated. Never mind that Raelynn taught him all he knows, and his revenge for her breaking up with him was putting her plans into reality—and her almost out of business. But, she has a plan. The height of the season is just two weeks away, and she’s tired of playing second fiddle to her ex. She’s going to take back her crown as the queen of ice cream, even if it means getting close to Chase once again. After all, all is fair in love and war, and you know what they say about keeping your enemies close… Although maybe Chase is a little too close… Pre-order your copy today! Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2OyO9HN iBooks: https://apple.co/2McXkw5 Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/BestServedCold Nook: https://bit.ly/2OxUkvE Kobo: https://bit.ly/2vuLbeu Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2Moes2k About Emma Hart: Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages. She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs. Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud. Yes, really. She's that sarcastic. Connect with Emma: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmmaHartBooks/ BookBub: http://bit.ly/2Dr0atq Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2Dq42ez Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2EBbZNe Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2D91d3T Stay up to date with Emma by joining her mailing list: https://www.emmahart.org/newsletter Website: https://www.emmahart.org/home
Title: Lachlan's Protégé
Author: V.F. Mason
Genre: Dark Romance Standalone
Release Date: August 16, 2018
She never knew nightmares.
Until she became mine.
She was a ballerina.
He was a serial killer.
She ran away from him.
He caught her.
She begged for mercy.
He gave her none.
She was an angel.
He was a monster.
She wanted to escape.
He wanted to destroy her.
They were at war.
And only one of them would win.
V.F.Mason always loved reading books and had quite a few fights with her momma over the genre she liked (romance, duh!) She studied filmmaking and thought that would feed her desire for stories, but that didn't happen.
Finally, when she was tired of all those voices in her head, she sat down and wrote a book. It was a huge decision to make and she thanks her friends and family for supporting her in it.When she is not writing, she can be found with her friends doing all sorts of crazy things or reading recent romance books that were written by her favorite authors.
Title: Shadow
Series: Satan's Fury MC Memphis Chapter #2
Author: L. Wilder
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: August 14, 2018
Even as a kid, I knew the kind of hell the world could dish out. I grew to expect the worst and learned to face it head on. When I became Satan’s Fury’s new enforcer, I knew I could handle whatever came my way—until Alex Carpenter, the gorgeous book store owner who brought color into my world of gray.
The club was at war, fighting an unknown enemy, and she was a distraction I didn’t need nor want. My focus should’ve been on my brothers and our latest adversary, but I felt an unexplainable pull towards her. Her beauty and innocence captivated me, and just being near her made the shadows of my past seem less daunting. Without even realizing it, I let her in, but as we grew closer, I quickly realized that her walls were even more guarded than my own.
Like me, Alex had a past filled with secrets. Could our broken souls find a way to mend together, or would we remain imprisoned by our past?
NOTE: Blaze (Satan's Fury MC Memphis Chapter) MUST be read prior
Leslie Wilder grew up in a small town in West Tennessee. A country girl at heart, she’s always thought that life is too short, but she had no idea how short it really was until her brother passed away in 2014. She’s always been an avid reader, loving the escape only a great book can give, and wondered if she had what it took to write one of the wild romances she’d come to adore. With the support of her family and friends, she published Inferno: A Devil Chaser’s MC, one year after her brother’s death. With him in mind, she fulfilled her lifetime dream of writing. Since then, she’s completed the Devil Chaser’s Series and continued on with the Satan’s Fury MC Series. She has so many stories in her head, and can’t wait to share each and every one.
Title: Reputation
Author: Dr. Rebecca Sharp
Genre: Enemies to Lovers/Rockstar Romance
Release Date: August 13, 2018
Small-town girl. America’s Sweetheart.
The biggest popstar in the world
It began with one guy and then the next.
Until my reputation preceeded me.
Yes, I dated them - all of them.
Yes, I also broke up with them. All of them.
Was it too much? The world said yes. Too many, too quickly.
And my star began to flicker.
The world knew nothing about my life and yet, their judgement weighed on me like stone.
My reputation was falling faster than a shooting star and the only way to save it was with the boy who never wanted me.
Zach Parker was a singer, songwriter, and sexy as sin.
To him, I was just the neighbor’s little sister.
A pest that had grown into a famous annoyance.
Zach Parker wanted nothing to do with me.
But he could be tempted - with a stepping stone to fame, that is.
The plan was simple: Childhood Sweethearts Fall in Love on US Tour.
The plan was to let them see what they wanted to see: our ‘romance’ blossom right in front of their eyes.
A romance that Zach had made painfully clear to me years ago would never exist.
I’m told that it was the only thing that could repair my image.
So, every night I’ll stand on that stage and give Zach my heart piece by piece, note by note.
We’ll give them a show they’ll never forget - and a love story that I may not survive.
Because who cares that in order to put my reputation back together, I’ll have to tear my heart apart?
Rebecca Sharp is a dentist and International Best-Selling author living in a small town in northeastern Pennsylvania with her husband, the love of her life. After graduating Cum Laude from Lafayette College in 2011 with two degrees (one in Business & Economics and one in French), she pursued her doctoral degree at the University of Maryland School of Dentistry. Graduating in 2015, she has since been working in her family’s dental practice that has serving the local community for over 60 years.
While she enjoys the practical and challenging academic aspects of her career and the fulfillment of providing care to her patients, Rebecca desired to pursue something more creative in her free time. Starting with her love of Jane Austen, she began writing. While she enjoys all types of books, romance novels have always held a special place in her heart. (True story: She listed a Sabrina Jeffries novel on her 8th grade summer reading list. Much to her surprise, the teacher didn’t even notice!) She has currently published numerous contemporary romance titles.
When she isn’t taking care of her patients or writing/publishing her next book, Rebecca loves to read, cook, draw, and snowboard. She has a small addiction to coffee and the TV show ‘Friends.’ She and her husband are avid travelers, determined to visit every corner of this beautiful planet!
Title: Blue Bayou
Author: Jiffy Kate
Genre: Contemporary Romance (mature)
Release Date: August 30, 2018
The road to self-discovery leads Maverick Kensington deep into the heart of New Orleans. The colorful characters, beautiful scenery and a hot mess of a woman he finds along the way offer him the perfect place to reinvent himself.
The French Quarter and Blue Bayou are exactly the change of pace he’s looking for, helping him escape the soul-sucking work he does for his father’s company.
Carys Matthews is young and inexperienced. Having her family’s hotel dropped in her lap after her mother’s untimely death, she’s struggling to keep her head above water and keep the hotel’s doors open. She doesn’t have time for relationships, but Maverick Kensington is worth an exception. Besides, his stay is temporary and a fling never hurt anyone, right?
His passion and business know-how is exactly what she needs.
Her carefree spirit is what he wants.
Their whirlwind relationship is one for the books until truths are untold and assumptions are made. Everything comes to a screeching halt just when they were getting to the good part.
There’s always been a saying around the hotel: eventually, everyone comes back to the Blue Bayou. Will Maverick be the exception again?
Jiffy Kate is the joint pen name for Jiff Simpson and Jenny Kate Altman. They're co-writing besties who share a brain and a love of cute boys, good coffee, and a fun time.
Together, they've written over twenty stories. Their first published book, Finding Focus, was released in November 2015. Since then, they’ve continued to write what they know, which is southern settings full of swoony heroes and strong heroines.
You can find them on most social media outlets at @jiffykate, @jiffykatewrites, or @jiffsimpson and @jennykate77.
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