Pre-Release Blitz: Walk of Shame by Lauren Layne

The City's HOTTEST Cold War!

WALK OF SHAME

a Love Unexpectedly novel

Lauren Layne

Releasing April 18th, 2017

Loveswept

Sparks fly between a misunderstood New York socialite and a cynical divorce lawyer in this lively standalone rom-com from the USA Today bestselling author of Blurred Lines and Love Story.

Pampered heiress Georgianna Watkins has a party-girl image to maintain, but all the shopping and clubbing is starting to feel a little bit hollow—and a whole lot lonely. Though Georgie would never admit it, the highlights of her week are the mornings when she comes home at the same time as her uptight, workaholic neighbor is leaving to hit the gym and put in a long day at the office. Teasing him is the most fun Georgie’s had in years—and the fuel for all her naughtiest daydreams.

Celebrity divorce attorney Andrew Mulroney doesn’t have much time for women, especially spoiled tabloid princesses who spend more time on Page Six than at an actual job. Although Georgie’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s also everything Andrew resents: the type of girl who inherited her penthouse instead of earning it. But after Andrew caps one of their predawn sparring sessions with a surprise kiss—a kiss that’s caught on camera—all of Manhattan is gossiping about whether they’re a real couple. And nobody’s more surprised than Andrew to find that the answer just might be yes.

Lauren Layne is the New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen romantic comedies.

A former e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to New York City in 2011 to pursue a full-time writing career.

She lives in midtown Manhattan with her high-school sweetheart, where she writes smart romantic comedies with just enough sexy-times to make your mother blush. In LL's ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books. 

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Blog Tour Promo Post: Doing It For Love by Cassie May

DOING IT FOR LOVE

All About Love #1

Cassie Mae

Releasing Sept 29th, 2015

Loveswept

Cassie Mae’s charming, sexy new novel, perfect for fans of Emma Chase, puts a steamy twist on modern love as one bride-to-be tries to put the spark back in the bedroom—by any means
necessary.

Elizabeth Fanning’s life looks pretty perfect, judging by the diamond ring on her finger. Her fiancé, Landon, is sweet, handsome, and hilarious. The trouble is, before they’ve even tied the knot, their sex life has gone from mind-blowing to “meh”—and Liz isn’t ready to be part of an old married couple. After a cathartic call to her best friend, Liz comes up with a brilliant idea. She and Landon may never be able to re-create the magic of their first time, but how amazing would their wedding night be if everything below the neck was off-limits until then?

Liz thinks it’ll bring them closer together. Landon’s convinced she’ll cave first. So they raise
the stakes: Whoever lasts longer gets to pick their honeymoon destination. With her heart set on the Bahamas and Landon fighting for snowbound Utah, Liz simply has to win. But pretty soon, her body is screaming for attention, and Landon’s never seemed so far away. Has Liz’s experiment backfired? Losing their little competition would be frustrating—but the one thing she can’t afford to lose is him.

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Laughter turns to deep sighs as Landon wipes my face free of all the water. He presses a soft kiss between my eyebrows.

“You’re going to be my wife,” he whispers, like a prayer, a wish, a dream he never thought would come to life. My heart thumps between our bodies, thumps against his, answering his beats with mine.

“Mrs. Wangford.” I bite my smile back, but it’s no use, Landon pauses above me, his whole face lighting up.

“Hell yeah! Now you can’t make fun of it.”

“I’ll say it in a seductive voice when I get my driver’s license.” I drop my voice an octave. “Wangford.”

“That’s so sexy,” he teases, biting my earlobe. I involuntarily giggle, goose bumps shooting up and down my entire body. That’s totally my spot, and he knows it, so he runs his hands across my puckered skin while he nibbles.

“Okay . . . you have to stop laughing,” he says.

“Can’t be helped.” I kiss his shoulder when he bumps it against my lips. “I really like it.”

“I know.” He bites again, causing more laughter and goose bumps. “But when you laugh, it does things. Down there.”

“I know it doesn’t hurt,” I say, then flex my Kegel muscles. He groans.

“No, it’s just . . . we haven’t done this in eleven days.”

“You’re counting?” When was the last time we counted?

He ignores me, resting an elbow on the pillow, and using the heel of his hand to hold his head up. “On most occasions I purposely make you laugh because of how it feels.” His lip twitches upward. “It’s like a hug.”

I stifle a snort, and he growls to the ceiling.

“Stop laughing!”

“I can’t help it.”

“You keep laughing, and I’m gonna shoot off before I can do my move.”

“I’ve felt your move,” I tease. “You need a new one.”

His jaw drops, and his stroking fingers turn to tickle monsters up and down, down and up my ribs, until he grips my sides and pulls me on his lap. My knees sink into the duvet next to his hips, and I run my nails through his damp hair. The stars in his gray irises seem to light the entire bedroom, echoing the moon dancing across the bedsheets.

I can’t believe I get a whole lifetime of this.

“Me neither,” he says, and a much smaller laugh tumbles out of my mouth. I had no idea my thoughts escaped me.

Landon’s lips meet mine softly, then harder, then all over. My laughter, my mind, and my body drift away into just one of the many beautiful moments I get to experience with this man. He feels so good, and the last time we had sex like this feels like a lifetime ago.

I’m just getting into my rhythm when I halt mid-hump with a gasp.

“What, what, what?” Landon says underneath me, sweat and shower water covering his skin.

“We need a condom.”

He looks at me like I just spouted Greek. “Huh?”

“A condom, Landon. I stopped taking my pill a week ago.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t want to hurt the baby . . . if there was one.”

“Oh.” He closes his eyes and nods. “Okay. Condom. Do we even have one?”

“Maybe . . . ?” I’m being optimistic. I think I tossed them out during my last sex drawer cleanup.

He slowly lifts me off him, and we both groan when we leave each other. I roll off the mattress, probably not looking so sexy with my naked squat and crawl to the naughty drawer in my nightstand.

“I could just pull out,” Landon suggests as I dig around the lubricant, the sex tarot cards we’ve used maybe once, and the blindfolds we use much more than that, but not lately. There’s not a single condom or any other form of birth control in here—unless you count the picture of my parents that must’ve slipped through the cracks from the drawer above it.

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“But . . . we don’t have a condom.”

“Maybe Theresa does.” Actually, I’m almost positive she does. I put the picture of my parents back in the right drawer and get to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Your nipple is poking out,” he says, pointing at my left boob as I shrug into my fuzzy purple robe.

“Thanks. Keep it up, will ya?” I point back at “Lord Landon” and speed-walk out of the room, out my front door, down the hall, and rap on Theresa’s door.

And just my luck, she doesn’t answer. I slump back, lady parts laden with disappointment.

“No?” Landon asks, still hard and ready on the bed.

“She’s not home.”

“I’ll pull out,” he says, grabbing the tie on my robe and ripping it open.

“Let me get a towel.” I push him off before we get so into it I won’t care until we have to clean it. Then I’ll really care.

After placing the towel on the bed, Landon kisses me, probably knowing I’ve dried up and I’m losing whatever mojo I had ten minutes ago.

But we just got engaged, so no way in hell am I not having sex tonight.

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Cassie Mae (who dons the name Becca Ann on occasion) is the author of a few hundred—okay, maybe not that many—books. Since writing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the

Funny Fat Friend, she has published books with Random House, Swoon 

Romance, and Tulip Romance. She has a favorite of all her babies, but no, she won’t tell you what it is (mainly because it changes depending on the day). Along with writing, Cassie likes to binge-watch Teen Wolf and The 

Big Bang Theory. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she 

likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.

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Blog Tour Book Review: My Highland Bride by Maeve Greyson

MY HIGHLAND BRIDE

Highland Hearts #2

Maeve Greyson

Releasing Aug 25th, 2015

Loveswept

Perfect
for fans of the Highlander novels of Karen Marie Moning and Janet Chapman,
Southern sass meets Highland heat in Maeve Greyson’s scintillating new Highland
Hearts romance.

With
bedroom eyes and racetrack curves, Kenna Sinclair seems like just another
pretty Kentucky girl. But she can also read minds, erase memories, and jump
through time—a skill set that comes in handy when her matchmaking granny sends
her back to thirteenth-century Scotland on the pretext of visiting her older
sister. When she encounters the clan’s womanizing man-at-arms, Kenna instantly
knows the gorgeous Highlander has only one thing on his mind. She vows to steer
clear of him, but after a single electrifying touch, she finds that playing
hard to get won’t be quite so easy. . . .

Bewitched
by the first lass who could ever resist him, Colum Garrison will do anything to
prove his devotion, even ask for Kenna’s hand in marriage—and swear off his
chosen form of recreation until their wedding night. It’s a burden for a man of
his thunderous appetite, but the sinful temptation is not his alone: Colum’s
fetching bride-to-be is practically trembling with anticipation for a moment
that can’t come soon enough. When she’s willing, Colum will be ready and
waiting—with a love that lasts a lifetime.

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Kentucky—Twenty-first Century

The fire popped and crackled in the cast-iron stove, but Granny’s voice came through the red-hot coals loud and clear. “It’s time, Kenna—time for you to join us here in the thirteenth century.”

Kenna balanced the bowl of popcorn on the arm of the couch and leaned toward the open grating of the stove. The handful of popcorn she’d just shoved in her mouth at the exact moment of Granny’s announcement threatened to strangle her. Kenna coughed, swallowed hard, and thumped her fist against her chest.

“Come again, Granny?” She wheezed in a deep breath, then hurriedly gulped down a sip of iced tea to wash away the knot of popcorn lodged in her throat. “You want all of us to join you and Trulie? Permanently?” Please say it’s just time for a short visit. I’d love to see you and Trulie . . . for a short visit.

“No. Not all of you. Just you. It’s time you came back and grabbed hold of your destiny.” Granny paused. The only sound coming from the woodstove was the lively crackling of the fire. Granny’s firm tone silenced the sound of the flames as she continued, “The twins will be staying in the twenty-first century for a bit longer.”

Kenna unfolded from her cross-legged position on the couch. What if she didn’t want to grab her destiny in thirteenth-century Scotland? What if she liked it right here in twenty-first-century Kentucky just fine? Yes, seeing Granny and Trulie would be wonderful, but there was just too much going on here to leave right now. Life was finally starting to settle down and run smoothly. It was kind of nice living like normal people for a change—or as close to normal as a girl born to a long line of women able to jump back and forth across time ever got.

“The twins are graduating this month. Tell Trulie the terrible twosome turned into a pair of intelligent eighteen-year-old beauties,” Kenna said, hoping that if she changed the subject Granny might back off a bit. But that was another thing. Even though her baby sisters were eighteen years old, how could Granny suggest leaving them alone to fend for themselves? Granted, Mairi and Lilia were mature for their age, but they still weren’t ready to get booted from the nest and fly solo.

Kenna scooted to the edge of the couch and propped her elbows on her knees. She had to buy them all some time. “Lilia’s creating her own line of natural cosmetics for the shop. She’s already got every teenage girl in town clamoring for the lip gloss she developed.”

The flames lengthened and danced faster across the chunks of wood. The coals fanned a hotter orange-red as Granny’s tone took on a decided edge. “Tell the girls I’m very proud of them and it’ll be their time to join us soon. I’m sending an old friend to look after them, since you’re coming to join us now. Eliza will help them sort through whatever they might need until their time to come back to us arrives. They have a bit longer to hone their skills in the twenty-first century before I call them back to the past.”

So the twins got to enjoy more time with indoor plumbing, Internet, and take-out pizza but she didn’t? Why did she have to leave now? “But Granny, I need—”

“Enough, Kenna. You knew this time was coming, and you know better than to argue with me once I’ve made up my mind.”

Kenna blew out a huffing breath. Isn’t that the freakin’ truth. Arguing with Granny was a lot like arguing with the weather. Both did as they damn well pleased no matter what anyone said. But maybe she could at least get away with bargaining for a little reprieve.

“Just give me a month.” Kenna held her index finger up closer to the fire. She couldn’t see Granny, so she didn’t think her elder had opened the fire portal enough to create a viewing window, but you never knew for sure with Granny. “Give me one solid month to get everything ready before I jump back.” Surely Granny would grant her some time to get things settled . . . and maybe in that time, if she thought about it really hard, she could figure out an excuse Granny wouldn’t be able to deny that would allow her to stay comfortably ensconced in modern times for a few more years—at least.

“One week.”

“A week?” Kenna scooted off the couch and knelt in front of the woodstove. “I can’t be ready to jump the web in just a week. That’s impossible.”

“Make it possible, Kenna. One week is all you get.”

I'm a big fan of Karen Marie Moning's Highlanders series and this book was great addition to the genre. It had the same sexy and steamy leading male characters and sassy/strong female leads. Now this is the second book in the series and there's definitely 2 more books coming (I hope). If you're new to the series and the author, here are some deets. The series centers around the Sinclair family. The Sinclair family legacy for the woman is time travel and other various supernatural abilities (i.e. visions or sensory telepathy). Specific set of female leads are the Sinclair sisters who were transported to the future to survive and grow in the 21st century with their Grandmother. The first book featured the eldest sister, Trulie and her love story with the dashing laird of MacKenna. This book features the second eldest sister, Kenna. If there's one thing you need to know about the Sinclair women, it's that they always have an ulterior motive when they assign you a task. Colum Garrison, one of Gray (Laird MacKenna) found about. He is assigned to Kenna as her escort and bodyguard. At first he is suspicious and wary of the newest Sinclair, but the attraction and tingly sensations proved that they were soulmates and meant to be. Unfortunately, things aren't going to go easy for Colum. Kenna has the power to see into the past via touch. She sees his past sexual history and it was a long, long, long list of conquests. This certainly puts up any roadblocks to forming a relationship, but Colum is determined to have Kenna as his own. I really liked this book and I definitely want to see who the other Sinclair sisters end up with. I have my suspicions though. :)

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No one has the power to shatter your
dreams unless you give it to them. That’s been Maeve Greyson’s mantra since she
was a girl. When she’s not at the full time day job at the steel mill, Maeve’s
writing romances about sexy Highlanders and the women who tame them. Tucked
away in a five acre wood, Maeve listens to the wind singing through the trees
and hears her characters telling their stories. Her work is proofed by her
sharp-eyed dog, Jasper, and her greatest supporter is her long suffering
husband of over thirty-five years who’s learned not to throw away any odd
sticky notes filled with strange phrases.

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Blog Tour Promo Post: Fire Me Up by Rachael Johns

FIRE ME UP

Deacons of Bourbon Street #2

Rachael Johns

Releasing Sept 1st, 2015

Can a scorching affair with a bohemian beauty tame a motorcycle man with a dark side? Rachael Johns takes the wheel in the sexy series co-written with Megan Crane, Jackie Ashenden, and Maisey Yates.

Travis “Cash” Sinclair values only two things from his days with the Deacons of
Bourbon Street: his prized Harley Davidson and the man who gave it to him. But now Priest Lombard is gone, and Cash has inherited theDeacons’ clubhouse—not to mentions its unexpected tenant. She’s exactly the type of woman he tries to avoid: all incense and art, with a sharp tongue that promises trouble. So why does Cash want to push aside those flowing skirts and lose himself between her legs?

Billie Taylor fled a bad marriage to start a new life among the grit and glamour of the French Quarter. She refuses to let another man distract her from her dreams, especially an outlaw biker with nothing to offer except hot sex and an eviction notice. Cash is dangerous, with an untamed streak he tries desperately to conceal. He drives Billie wild, sending her too close to the edge for her own good. And she won’t fall under his spell—or into his bed—without a fight.

Fucking Ajax wanted to keep the joint, revive the damn club, embrace the old brotherhood, and Leon was all for it. They’d spent all night after the funeral downing bourbon, reliving “fond” memories and making plans, and had gotten progressively more obsessed. Only Travis and Micah could see that the best thing for all of them would be to sell off the buildings Priest had left them and get the fuck back out of town. Tallahassee might seem boring in comparison to New Orleans, but it was safe. This place still set him on edge; it made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Travis knew the longer he stayed, the more likely he was to lose his shit with someone and end up in jail. Again.

Realizing she was still staring at him, he straightened and then gestured beyond them to the door that led inside. Despite her coolness, her paltry attempts at hostility did nothing to calm the fire rising within him. “Then you can show me to my room,” he told her, indecent suggestion dripping from his tone.

“Excuse me?”

Her outraged expression only wound the coil of heat inside him tighter. He turned and headed over to where he’d dumped his bag on the floor. Billie wasn’t wearing any shoes so he didn’t hear her stalking after him, but he felt her. She was following him and if he played his cards right, he could turn what had been a shitty day into one that would blow both their minds. Leaning over, he hitched his pack over his shoulder and then turned, expecting to come face-to-face with her alluring anger, but almost tripping over a little gray dog instead.

“What the fuck is that?” And where the hell had it come from? He steadied himself against the wall, his fingers closing around the edge of some grotesque fairy painting, and peered down at the thing that had almost resulted in giving him a broken leg. It looked up at him, teeth bared, a low growl emanating from somewhere beneath rolls and rolls of wrinkles. Travis had never been big on small dogs, but he had to give it to this one—it had balls.

Billie smiled that saccharine smile again. “This is Baxter, and I think what he’s trying to say is you don’t have a room here.”

“Well, Baxter.” Travis glared down at the pathetic excuse for a dog. “That’s where you’re wrong. In case you misunderstood before, Billie,” he said, looking back to her, “I’m the new owner of this building. And, as it happens, I need a place to stay for a few weeks. Maybe longer.”

“That may be,” Billie said, standing her ground, although he noted a quiver in her voice, “but I already live here, so you’ll have to find somewhere else.”

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head and made to move past Billie and Baxter.

She sidestepped so that she was in his way and Baxter bared his teeth even more, his growl growing deeper. “If you are my new landlord,” Billie said, her tone filled with disgust, “then you’d know I have rights as the tenant. You need to give me notice for an inspection and you definitely can’t just move in.”

“Sweetheart.” He leaned forward so he was invading her personal space. She smelled sweet, of some kind of strawberry shampoo or something that made his muscles tighten, but he ignored it. “No one tells me what the fuck to do. And if you can afford a lawyer, then you’re not paying us enough rent.”

“I . . . I . . .” Billie blinked, and her tits heaved up and down as she searched for more words.

He made no apology for looking, waited a beat, and when it seemed she didn’t have anything to add he tossed her one final question. “Can you afford a lawyer?”

Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head.


He smirked his victory. “In that case, you, me and Baxter are roommates.

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Rachael Johns is an English teacher by trade, a mum 24/7, a supermarket owner, a chronic arachnophobic, and a writer the rest of the time. She rarely sleeps and never irons. She writes contemporary romance for HQN and Carina Press and lives in rural Western Australia with her hyperactive husband and three mostly-gorgeous heroes-in-training. Rachael loves to hear from readers and can be contacted through her website at www.rachaeljohns.com

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