Friday 30 May 2014

Mended by Kim Karr with Giveaway



Mended by Kim Karr
Release Date ~ June 3, 2014


Synopsis


MUSIC HAS THE POWER TO HEAL ALL…BUT NOT ALL BROKEN HEARTS CAN BE MENDED.

Always in control, Xander Wilde considered life on the road to be a perfect fit for him. But when disaster strikes on the Wilde Ones’ latest tour, fate intervenes…and a newly single Ivy Taylor, the only girl he has ever loved, steps back into his life.

After moving past her painful breakup with Xander years ago, Ivy was poised to become the next big name in pop music…when suddenly she withdrew from the limelight—the same day she announced her engagement to her controlling agent, Damon Wolf.

Xander knows he should keep his distance. But once they’re on the road, he can’t resist pursuing her for a second chance. Yet a jealous Damon can’t let her go—and he’s keeping dangerous secrets that could destroy them all. 

When the three of them come together, everything falls apart. But if Xander and Ivy can hold tight to the bond that connects them, they just might have a chance at reclaiming the powerful love they thought they had lost forever....




Excerpt


Excerpt from Mended
 Connections #3 by Kim Karr 
© 2013 by Kim Karr 
Published by the Penguin Group 
Release date: June 3, 2014 
 
Xander Wilde 

The magic of rock and roll—it casts a spell on you. I’m no exception. I’m a band 
manager and I’m living the dream, touring with The Wilde Ones, helping them secure 
their well-deserved place in the music industry. I love being a part of it all, especially 
watching the band perform live—the crowds, the cheers, the music. It’s a high and a low 
all at once and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every step of the way with this band has 
been fun, exciting, stressful—every possible emotion. Obviously we’ve had some breaks 
but mostly we all put in a lot of hard work—myself, Garrett Flynn, Phoenix Harper, 
River Wilde, and now Zane Perry. 
“Can you hear me now?” he bellows. 
I nod my head as my heart pounds in my chest. My hands feel cold and clammy and 
a nervousness that makes me weak and shaky takes over. Doubts race through my head 
and I’m questioning if he’s going to make it through this. A vague awareness that 
something bad could happen kicks around in my mind and I can’t shake it. The Wilde 
Ones are doing a sound check on stage and Zane’s not on his game. 
It’s July and the weather has been brutally hot. But today it seems cooler. Maybe it’s 
the California weather maybe it’s the excitement of being home. The Beautiful Lies Tour 
bus finally rolled back into our home state of California after six months away. When we 
pulled into the amphitheater, we could see tanned kids in board shorts and bikini tops 
already lined up at the will call window. Security guards in polo shirts directed us to the 
artist parking lot, and we were officially home. Tonight we’ll be headlining our biggest 
show to date. We’re on tour without my brother, River, and still more than half of the 
shows are sold out, including tonight’s. River quit the band—touring just wasn’t for him 
but even so the album is on its way up the charts. Who knows it may even hit gold status. The songs on the album were written and sung by River but are performed in concert by 
Zane. Having him as my brother’s replacement has been the key to our successful 
transition in a world where replacing leads is normally unsuccessful—simply put, we’re 
lucky as hell to have him. River promised to make a surprise appearance at our next stop. 
It’s going to be epic. 
But tonight is all about the arena—Mountain View and the Shoreline. “That’s 
enough,” I yell to the band and call rehearsal. This place is the biggest outdoor venue 
we’ve played and I couldn’t be more stoked—or more nervous. A sold out show and a 
rocking opening band—what a combination. But a lead singer with another cold and a 
weakened voice that can’t be heard throughout an amphitheater scares the shit out of me. 
I head straight for the bus and spend the next few hours hashing out a song with Nix 
that he calls a jumbled mess of muscular sense and big-riff sunshine—whatever the hell 
that means. All I know is that it needs help and that’s why he’s turning to me. I hadn’t 
played guitar since I was eighteen but for some reason over the course of this tour I’ve 
picked it back up. At first I used whatever was lying around but last month I had my 
mother mail my old one to me and it feels like home. It’s a light blue and brown Gibson 
and I had to have it because it was the guitar that Slash played on. Playing again seems to 
help pass the time and brings a calm over me that I haven’t felt in awhile. 
Hours pass and before I know it, it’s almost show time. We make our way over to the 
Amphitheater, do the typical festival schmooze fest, and then settle back to wait. Waiting 
for them to take the stage is always the most nerve-racking time. I’m sitting in the 
practically vacant makeshift meet and greet area back stage and sipping a beer in a 
worthless effort to calm my nerves when a voice travels through the sound system. It’s a 
powerful and emotive mezzo-soprano range that is nothing short of explosive. She 
sounds unlike any singer I’ve ever heard before—with only one exception, Ivy Taylor. I 
push back the memory of her name and the emotions it evokes—the memories are just 
too painful. I can’t see her on stage but I know that the voice belongs to Jane Mommsen. 
Her band Breathless is playing right before The Wilde Ones. 
A hand on my shoulder startles me. I twist and glance up as Amy sits down beside 
me, crossing her legs. “Hi, Xander. I thought I saw you earlier at the hotel.” She’s a beautiful woman—long, wavy dark hair, petite figure, very natural looking. 
She’s wearing jeans, a blue shirt with some kind of foil design, and silver sandals. 
Grinning at her I say, “Finally we catch up. Can I get you a drink?” 
“I’d love that. How’s life on the road been?” 
“You know, it has its ups and downs but actually not bad. You?” 
“Jane’s been going full-force for a while now. But the tour ends with the summer. 
I’ll be glad to be back in LA.” 
Standing up, I laugh. “I know the feeling. I’ll be right back, let me grab us that 
drink.” Tossing my empty bottle, I make my way to the coolers lined up under the tent 
and grab two beers. I know she’d rather have a glass of Chardonnay but beer it is. Amy is 
Jane’s assistant and I’ve taken her out more than a few times. We went to high school 
together and Amy and I know most of the same people so whenever I need a date, I ask 
her. Last time I saw her was almost nine months ago when I took her to River and 
Dahlia’s wedding. 
Heading back to the table I hear Jane yell out to the crowd, “Are you ready for three 
of the hottest guys in music?” The audience starts screaming and the stage lights dim 
cuing the guys that it’s the fifteen-minute countdown until they take the stage. The band 
huddles together in their typical pre-performance stance. I’ll have a quick drink with 
Amy and then join them. As I hand her the bottle my fingers touch hers and we both grin, 
knowing that we will end up alone by the end of the night. 
“You sticking around for the whole show?” 
“I think I might,” she smiles. 
“How about we ride back to the hotel together and grab a real drink at the bar?” 
“Sounds like a plan.” 
“Great. Time for me to get back to work.” 
 She rises from the table, I do the same. She stands up on her toes and kisses me 
quickly on the lips. “See you tonight,” she smiles. 
“Catch you later,” I say and then cross the room to join the band. 
“You’re late,” Nix snickers. “What’s with you two anyway?” he asks. 
I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing. We casually see each other once in a while.” 
Garrett raises an eyebrow. “Chicks are never cool with casual.” Shaking my head at him, I don’t bother to disagree. Amy and I have been doing this 
for years. It works for her and for me. We like each other’s company but only see each 
other sporadically. I’ll call her once in a while and we’ll go out but we are in no way 
exclusive. I don’t ask her about other men and she doesn’t ask me about other women. I 
grab the bottle and pour the amber liquid into the shot glasses stacked on the cap. It’s our 
pre-show routine. A shot and a prayer, so to say. It’s Garrett’s turn tonight to ‘pray’ so 
this should be good. 
He raises his glass. “Here’s to hoping Xander gets laid so he’ll get off our backs.” 
Tipping my glass back, I quickly down the amber liquid. It burns as it makes its way 
down my throat. Once we’ve all drank our two shot maximum before a show Garrett 
follows his toast up with, “Seriously man, you need to get laid.” 
The guys laugh and I actually join in. Jerking off in the small bathroom on the bus is 
definitely one of the downsides of touring. I’ve slept with a few girls at some of our stops 
but screwing groupies isn’t really my thing. I’m not one to have time for a girlfriend but 
I’m also not about to pull my dick out backstage, so it’s been a long six months. 
Zane coughs after he slings back the shot and I look at him with concern. “You’re 
going to a doctor tomorrow.” 
He shakes his head. “Yes, Mom, if you say so.” 
“I’m not kidding. Your voice sounds like shit.” 
“It’s a fucking cold. I took some medicine. I’ll be fine.” 
“Doctor. Tomorrow. I mean it. I’ll have Ena set it up.” 
“I can always sing,” Garrett chimes in and I smack the back of his head. 
“Hey. I can.” 
The lights start to flicker and I look at Zane with that feeling of uneasiness again. 
Second time this tour he’s coughing and hacking. We’re screwed if he really gets sick. 
He nods at me as I pat him on the back. Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he heads 
out first raising his arm in the air. The crowd goes crazy. The six foot guy is a chick 
magnet and no one misses my brother tonight. Garrett heads out next yelling, “Great to 
be here Mountain View!” and Nix follows with his trademark nod. Zane skips his normal 
charming banter and I know he must be saving his voice. Again, I think about how we’re 
fucked if he gets sick. I stand at the edge of the stage all night until they finally come to their last song. “It 
Wasn’t Days Ago,” is a simple but crowd affecting ballad and Zane belts it out. Shouts 
from nearly thirty thousand fans call for an encore. Turning away from the microphone 
Zane coughs again. Biting his thumbnail he looks over at me and I slice my finger across 
my neck. 
“One more song for tonight,” he tells the screaming fans and my blood pressure 
rises. “This one is a cover, an ‘ode to’ I’ll call it. It’s for Xander Wilde, the band’s 
manager and it’s his favorite song. Everyone ready?” As he starts to sing Linkin Park’s 
“Iridescent,” I close my eyes and listen. When he hits the chorus his voice gets so low my 
eyes snap open. Zane turns to grab a bottle of water while the guys continue to play but I 
can tell something isn’t right. 
*** 
Last night definitely didn’t go as planned—a visit to the ER, then sleeping in a chair 
next to Zane all night on the bus because the steroids he was given freaked him out. It’s 
noon and Amy and I are just arriving at the Pelican Hill Resort. Breathless was leaving 
right after the show last night so Amy had already planned to ride with us and meet up 
with them in Irvine. She invited me to some party being thrown by her band’s label that I 
would have rather not gone to but Ellie, the tour manager, insisted we all go for the good 
PR. 
I’m exhausted and really need some sleep before dealing with the press and 
tomorrow night’s show. The paparazzi have been everywhere—by the bus as we exited to 
the waiting car in LA, outside the doctor’s office, at the gates of Zane’s father’s house, 
and now they’re here in Irvine at the hotel. 
To avoid the chaos awaiting us in the lobby, I call Ellie, who is already here, and ask 
her to check me in and meet me at the pool bar with the key. Draping my arm around 
Amy, we head that way. I’ve been here a few times so I know my way around. Cutting 
through the grotto and over to the pool and cabanas, I steer Amy to the right and stop in 
my tracks as all the air rushes from my lungs. My body floods with adrenaline and my gut twists. I don’t even have to do a double 
take because I’d know her anywhere. There’s no mistaking her. She’s just so beautiful—
the elegant planes of her face, those high cheekbones, red lipstick, her platinum blonde 
hair shorter than it used to be tucked behind her ear, that face of an angel. She looks the 
same. No, she looks better. Her skin glistens in the sun and my gaze automatically 
follows the shape of her long legs. They look smooth and tan against her white bathing 
suit. An ache forms in my chest as I think about running my fingers up them. She’s still 
that eighteen-year-old girl I once knew but now she has the body of a woman—lean and 
toned and full of curves. When she moves it’s so familiar it doesn’t seem like a day has 
passed—and everything I ever felt for her, it’s all still inside me. 
My pulse races at the mere sight of her. She’s lounging in the cushioned chair 
reading a magazine just outside a cabana. My heart slams harder in my chest when she 
sticks her earphones in her ears like she always used to do and it transports me back to 
the last time I saw her do the very same thing. We’d skipped school and were at my 
grandparents’ house—their pool. She was lying on the lounge chair listening to music 
and singing along—her voice so full of soul. I’d moved to sit with her under the guise of 
putting lotion of her back. She sat up and smiled that shy smile she didn’t need to have 
when she was with me. I squeezed the tube into my hand and after rubbing them together 
I slowly applied it to her back kneading my way up and down, touching every inch of her 
that I could. 
It brings me back to the here and now when she suddenly sits up and looks over at 
me. Her eyes pin me in place. She looks at me as if she remembers me for who I was, 
what we were, not what I did to her. With my chest pounding, memories of us keep 
flashing through my mind. Fighting a smile, I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing—
remembering what we were, what we shared, how we loved. 
She quickly breaks our connection when she averts her eyes over to the man handing 
her a drink. I suck in a deep breath trying not to feel sick at the sight. He’s nearing fifty, 
wearing a terrycloth robe. He’s about my height, dark brown hair, meticulously groomed 
facial hair, and not exactly ripped but fit. He’s Damon Wolf, a man I’ve never actually 
met but hate all the same. I’ve seen their picture on TV and in magazines. He’s her agent, 
her fiancé, and I’m sure he’s the reason she’s not singing anymore. She looks up at him with that same forced smile she used to give people she just 
wanted to appease and mouths “thank you.” I have a sudden urge to go over and deck 
him when her gaze shifts back to mine and he pulls her chin back to look at him. I can 
sense a discomfort between them. We could sense each other’s feelings even when we 
weren’t near each other. 
Amy’s hand slides down my face and I have to blink a few times before I can hear 
what she’s saying. Glancing one last time at Ivy I see that she’s staring at me again. Then 
suddenly her mouth forms a scowl and she flicks her attention toward him. Hooking her 
arm around his neck, she pulls him down for a kiss and I think I might throw up. 
“Are you okay?” 
I nod. Not able to say a word. 
“Isn’t that Ivy Taylor over there? The girl you used to date in high school?” Amy 
asks. There’s an irritated tone to her voice I’m not used to hearing and it makes me 
agitated. 
 “Yeah, it is,” is all I say. She’s not just a girl I used to date…she’s the only girl I 
ever really loved. She’s also the girl whose heart I broke. Seeing her now brings back all 
those feelings I blocked, ignored, tucked aside. So many times over the years I wanted to 
go after her and tell her the truth—but I never did. Why I don’t know. Then one day it 
was too late—she had gotten engaged. 
Amy chatters on. “I think that’s Damon Wolf with her. We should go say hi.” 
My body goes cold and my face blank at the thought. I straighten and just as I’m 
about to say, “No fucking way,” my phone vibrates in my pocket. Squinting at the screen, 
I see that it’s my brother. I look over to Amy and motion toward the bar. “Hey, this is 
River. I need to take it. I’ll meet you over there in a minute.” 
“That’s fine. We can catch up with them later. I’ll go order us a drink.” She smiles 
and starts toward the bar. 
Turning around to avoid staring at Ivy, I answer the phone. “It took you long enough 
to call me back.” 
“I was in a meeting and stepped out as soon as I could, so don’t start. What did the 
doctor say about Zane?” 
“He’s out for the rest of the tour and we’re fucked.” “You sure? You’re back in LA for almost two weeks after tomorrow night right? 
Isn’t that enough time for him to heal?” 
“Technically yes. But his old man wants him out. The doctor said that he couldn’t be 
sure how long the blood that accumulated under his vocal cords had been there but 
obviously last night, the amount of ruptured vessels was enough to cause his voice to 
change. He advised at least two weeks of rest before another evaluation to see if surgery 
is necessary. Zeak wants his son to take a longer period of time off. He’s just afraid that if 
Zane keeps singing and it keeps happening, scar tissue will build up and cause his voice 
to change forever.” 
“Do you blame him?” 
“No I don’t,” I tell River and I feel like shit that I have to put him in a position to do 
what he didn’t want to do in the first place. But I also know that if I don’t, the band won’t 
survive. If I have to cancel this tour—the Wilde Ones are done. So I ask, “Did you talk to 
Dahlia?” 
He sighs. “Yeah, I did. She’s cool with it, Xander. I’m just trying to figure it all out.” 
“You know I’ll do whatever you need me to do, right?” 
“Shit why can’t you just be an ass and make it easy for me to say no?” 
“Because you have no idea what this means to me.” 
“Actually I do, and that’s why I’m going to make it happen. But Xander, remember I 
can’t play a twelve string.” 
Laughter and relief take hold of me. I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. 
“Right now I wouldn’t care if you only played the violin,” I joke. 
He laughs and I add, “You’ll be here tonight?” 
Now he sounds slightly annoyed. “I said I would. We might be a little late so don’t 
get your panties in a wad.” 
“That’s cool. Thanks for everything. Hey, one more thing.’ 
“What?” 
“Ivy Taylor’s here.” 
“No way. Have you talked to her?” 
“Fuck no. You know she won’t talk to me. And besides she’s with that asshole.” 
“You should talk to her. Tell her the truth.” “What’s that going to do now? She’ll just think I’m lying.” 
“You want me to talk to her? I can explain everything.” 
“No. I don’t need my little brother to fight my battles. I’ll talk to her if I feel the time 
is right. Do you hear me?” 
“Whatever you say. Look, I have to run but I want to discuss this later. And 
Xander…you don’t know he’s an asshole. Just because Dad said his name once doesn’t 
mean shit.” 
“Right. Okay, see you tonight,” I say and end the call. My head is spinning knowing 
that after all these years I’m actually in the same place she is. I want to talk to her, tell her 
everything but what would it matter now anyway. Glancing behind me, I catch another 
glimpse of her with him that turns my stomach. He’s such a slime ball. Since his father 
was hospitalized and he took over the business, he’s been scooping up labels, tearing 
them apart, and rebuilding them with bands he thinks are better fits. My guess is he 
picked up Jane’s label—that’s why he’s here. I heard they were having some financial 
difficulty and he’s just the kind of bottom feeder that would want to capitalize on not 
only being her agent but now also her producer. The sight of him touching Ivy makes my 
skin crawl. 
Damon Wolf—two of the last words my father ever spoke to me before killing 
himself, and I never knew why. Of all the guys in the world Ivy had to end up with him—
why him? I look up and they’re gone. But I’m anything but relieved. Rubbing my chin, 
I’m antsy, agitated, pissed as hell, but feel more alive than I have in years.





Kota's Review


Mended is pure Kim Karr.  This is the third installment in the Connections Series, and it holds its own just as good as the previous two, Connected and Torn.

In mended we finally get to know Xander Wilde, Rivers brother and the Wild Ones band manager.  We have met Xander previously but never really gotten to know him.

Ivy Taylor is the girl who stole Xander’s heart once.  With her crossing paths with him again, will his heart be able to cope?

We follow their story as they both embark of career paths they are filled with challenges but great opportunity.

This story has an easy flow, it is full of angst, and the pages keep turning.  Ms Karr has a beautiful style and tone in her storytelling, as the plot unfolds seamlessly.  This series of books are beautifully told, full of pure heart melting romance, with the right amount of sex to spice them up.

Xander who has been seen as brusque and standoffish previously, finally has the chance to explain his moods, and it all stems from the one who got away, or who he let get away!

Ivy is someone who has been taken advantage of in the past, and seems to be a target for that to continue.  Her journey in this story is encouraging as she finally finds her true self.

I am not sure that Ms Karr can write a bad book, however, this one for me just missed the mark.  While I enjoyed the read, and I fell in love with the characters, I found the angst a bit too much.  The progression of the story seemed a little slow and there was some monotony in it's telling.

That said though, Kim Karr writes wonderful stories, with great characters that are all multi faceted, and mended is truly no exception.  I am rating Mended four hearts.



Click here to read Kota's reviews of Connected and Torn


About the Author


Kim Karr is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of romance, including her sexy New Adult romance series, Connections.  She describes herself as wearing a lot of hats–writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all-around go-to person of the family.  However, she always finds the time to read.  She believes in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends and Happily-Ever-Afters, and loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.  Kim lives in Florida with her husband and four kids.


Buy the Book


Amazon   |   iTunes   |   Barnes & Noble   |   Paperback



Amazon Links for the rest of the Connected Series Books


Connected   |   Torn   |   Dazed   |   Mended   |   Blurred   |   Frayed


Kim's Social Media Links


Website   |   Facebook   |   Twitter   |   Goodreads

Giveaway


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Wednesday 28 May 2014

Under Different Stars by Amy Bartol




Synopsis


All she wants is a home, but can she find one…UNDER DIFFERENT STARS

Kricket Hollowell is normally not one to wish upon stars; she believes they’re rarely in her favor. Well versed at dodging caseworkers from Chicago’s foster care system, the past few years on her own have made Kricket an expert at the art of survival and blending in. With her 18th birthday fast approaching, she dreams of the day when she can stop running and find what her heart needs most: a home.

Trey Allairis hates Earth and doubts that anyone from his world can thrive here. What he’s learning of Kricket and her existence away from her true home only confirms his theory. But, when he and Kricket lie together under the stars of Ethar, counting them all may be easier than letting her go.

Kyon Ensin’s secrets number the stars; he knows more about Kricket’s gifts than anyone and plans to possess her because of them. He also knows she’s more valuable than any fire in the night sky. He’ll move the heavens and align them all in order to make her his own.

When everything in their world can be broken, will Kricket rely upon love to save her under different stars?



Kota's Review


Under Different Stars is Book 1 in Amy Bartol’s newest paranormal series.  In this story we meet Kricket Hollowell, a young girl trying to survive in a world where she doesn’t quite have a home.  She is flying under the radar, surviving on cash jobs on the sly as she is underage, and needs to avoid detection from authorities. At least just for a little bit longer.

Kricket has few friends, because it is safer that way, but the ones she does have are there for her, well the ‘her’ Kricket lets them know.  Kricket doesn’t lay roots because her life has been one need after another to pick up and move on in a hurry.

Little does Kricket know, there are a whole lot of people interested in her and circumstances come to pass that they take more than a fleeting interest.

Meet Trey Allairis, an Etharian solider, who is drawn to Kricket in ways that he wishes he wasn’t but cant control.  The relationship these two build is perfectly matched.  Kricket’s spirit challenges all of the control that Trey exercises in every aspect of his life.

Life is not easy for Kricket though, because not only does she have to tend with the likes of Trey and his band of hot guys, but she also has to deal with Kyon Ensin, who stakes his claim very early in the piece. Kricket’s chaos doesn’t stop with just Trey or Kyon, but you will have to read the book to find out more.

I am a fan of Amy Bartol.  I love her Premonition Series and eagerly await the next (final) installment.  It is because of my love for that series that I procrastinated reading Under Different Stars.  I mean what if it wasn’t as good?  What if nothing can compare to Reed, Evie and Brennus?  What if after reading so much adult content a nice YA/NA story just doesn’t cut it?  Anywhoo – I bit the bullet..  and I am so very glad that i did!

Amy creates such wonderful characters, with depth and conviction.  Her paranormal worlds are complex, she details them with such clarity there is little reason to second guess their actual existence.  

Amy’s formula of worlds colliding, good versus evil battles and just the right amount of romance is well tested, but I find Amy’s point of difference is in her ability to create clearly unique stories while applying this formula.  And, if sticking to Amy’s personal formula works – I know that the next chapters in Kricket’s story are going to intensify and keep my heart racing.  

Amy’s characters are all engaging – whether  you like or loathe them, they suck you in.  Kricket’s banter with the secondary characters is just as detailed and important as her interactions with Trey et al.  This story is not perfect to me (there are things I wished were explained further, and others not overlooked) but can I complain about it – no.  Do I wish the story kept going.. yes…  will I wait for Kricket #2 – well I don’t have a choice do i?  

Ms Bartol, I have already fangirled you via FB and told you how wonderful I think you are.  Here is my public declaration…  I love Amy Bartol’s work!  I find your stories engaging, and compelling in their telling. I find they are perfect for their genre, and look forward to each new installment with great anticipation.  

Now I just need to calm the farm when I talk to my Miss 13 about the need for her to finish whatever she is currently reading and get on to this!  I  mean its not like the Divergent trilogy or Half Bad are not good books – but I am impatient for her to meet Kricket and Trey!




Buy the book



About Amy


I live in Michigan with my husband and our two sons. 
My family is very supportive of my writing. When I’m writing, they often bring me the take-out menu so that I can call and order them dinner. They listen patiently when I talk about my characters like they’re  real. They rarely roll their eyes when I tell them I’ll only be a second while I finish writing a chapter…and then they take off their coats. They ask me how the story is going when I surface after living for hours in a world of my own making. They have learned to accept my “writing uniform” consisting of a slightly unflattering pink fleece jacket, t-shirt, and black yoga pants. And they smile at my nerdy bookishness whenever I try to explain urban fantasy to them. In short, they get me, so they are perfect and I am blessed.

Links



Website   |    Facebook   |   Goodreads   |   Twitter   |   Amazon  |  Pinterest

Tuesday 27 May 2014

Marking Him by Elena M Reyes **Release Day Blitz**

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Event Organized by ❤MaE Book Tours & Promo Stars Services


MH2 (1)


Synopsis



The day Maya Owens walked into his tattoo shop, everything Talan knew changed.


After officially starting a relationship, he is now having trouble managing Maya—a woman who consumes every part of his being and owns his heart. His need to control her and everything around her drives Maya insane, but he has good reason. After all, Janice is still lurking around and she has a vendetta against his Bitty.
In no time Talan wants more, and it’s faster than Maya can handle; things begin to get complicated.

Months of frustration and want take them for a ride neither wanted, but now yearn for. Will they make it through the turbulence? And if so, at what cost?


Genre: Contemporary Romance/Erotica
Expected Publication Date: May 27, 2014
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Excerpt


“What are we doing here?” Maya asked when we pulled up to my shop.
This date was about remembering our first meeting, for her to see how I truly felt.
Taking her face in my hands, I caressed her cheek with the tip of my fingers and leaned forward to ghost my lips over hers.
“Where did we meet, Maya?” I asked, then waited for her reaction. She didn’t disappoint.
A small smile overtook her face. “Here.”
“So where else would I want our first date to be?”
Maya giggled, confusing me. “This isn’t our first date, Talan.”
“No? Are you sure?” She nodded, still laughing at my confused state. “I don’t remember taking you—”
“Shush,” Maya placed her finger over my lips, “our first date happened right here a few months back. The same night we discussed your tattoos.”
“But you said . . .” I trailed off; this having a woman shit was confusing.
“I know what I said, Talan.” She sounded exasperated and all traces of humor left her features. “I asked to date, to make us official.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” I grumbled while rubbing my temples.
“I did; you just heard what you wanted.” Bitty raised an eyebrow at me. “Now, feed me.”
“You drive me insane.” If I didn’t care for this woman, I would strangle her.
My words were met with another raised brow and a saucy smirk. “Then I’m doing something right.”
I laughed at her reply. What could I say to argue that logic? She had every right to act cocky at the moment. Bitty had me by the balls and knew it.
“Stay.” Turning off the engine of my truck, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. Maya stayed inside, waiting on me. “Ready?”
She nodded.
I unbuckled her seatbelt, grabbed her by the waist, and helped her down. Her small frame slithered down my body, rubbing against my hardened cock.
“For you? Since we met.”
“Behave.” My warning was met with defiance.
Maya’s hands grabbed onto the front of my pants. She pulled me forward; my erect shaft nestled between our bodies, pushing against her stomach. “Feed me.”
“Hungry?” I grunted when her right hand dipped inside my waistband.
“Commando?” She moaned, ignoring my question. Maya ran the tip of her fingers around the slit, rubbing the liquid there over my swollen head. I shivered while watching, mesmerized, as she brought the glistening digits toward her lips and sucked.
“Maya, please. Let’s go eat. You have to be starving.”
“I am,” she whimpered, as my flavor danced over her tongue. Maya winked at me then shimmied once more against me. The head of my cock—now purple and swollen—peeked out from the waistband, searching for her touch.
“Quit fucking around, Bitty.” Growling under my breath, I tucked my dick back into my pants, much to her disappointment. It’d been torture not taking her, but it was getting worse than before. We were both so close to that moment and we knew it. “I ordered in.”
“Warned you; I’m hungry.” She ignored my statement and instead pulled me down to her level. Her eyes shone with emotion, deep and as pure as she was. “Don’t care about food.” Maya bit my lip, hard. “Feed me.”
“Fuck.” She killed my will, my need to show her I wanted more from her than just the sweet pussy between her thighs.
“First, food, and then for dessert, I’ll give you my cock,” I whispered—more a plea than a bargain—against her lips. She bit down once more and backed away, leaving my lip bruised and tingling.
“Tempting.” Bitty stepped back. “Convince me.”
“Okay.” I took a step forward and backed her into my truck, my fingers tangling in her hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but my finger over those succulent lips silenced her. “Quiet.”
Maya whined against my hold. My hips kept her in place, taunting her, I ground my hardened length against her.
“We’re going to enter my shop and enjoy all the hard work I’ve put into this date. Nod if you understand.” She did. “I want to enjoy you.” Bitty moaned at this, and swiveled her hips into me. “Feed you. Don’t take that away from me.” At those last words, a soft expression overtook her face and she stilled in my arms.
She sighed. “You win.”
“What was that?” I asked needing to hear her say it again.
“You win.” Maya smiled and pushed me back with a gentle shove. “I want it all. You, me, and this date . . . the small talk and flirting. Maybe even another orgasm at the end of the night?” She was too cute when showing her neediness.
“No more harassing me?” I gave her a playful smile.
“For now.” She winked then pushed me toward the front doors of my shop.
“Stop.” I turned to face her. Maya’s look was confused, but her confusion turned into that burning need I loved when she realized what I’d pulled from my pockets. “Turn around,” I demanded and she complied.
She did. No questions, just obedience. I could get used to that.
“I’m going to cover your eyes.” My words were met with a needy whimper. Maya pressed her body closer to mine. The heat coming off her skin seared me.
“How do you expect me to behave if—”
“Quiet. Not a word,” I whispered into her ear and laid a small kiss on her neck. “Just enjoy.” The small blindfold I’d pulled from my pocket dangled from my finger. Her eyes followed its movement.
I wanted her to see the words etched onto the silk fabric, the ones I’d chosen just for her: Marked.
It said everything I felt. Every one of my pores, every cell in my body wore her stamp—her mark. Now, she would wear mine.

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About the Author



1503539_601803483236538_370633924_nElena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would. As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned. Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.



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Monday 26 May 2014

Waking Up In Vegas by Stevie Kisner




Synopsis


What’s your name, Beautiful? 
Never mind. It doesn’t matter, and I won’t remember it, anyway.
I’m Tack Morgan, and I’m Las Vegas Magazine’s Sexiest Man. I’m the host of the most listened-to morning drive-time show on Vegas’s FM dial. 
I’m also in therapy for sexual harassment.
My therapist is the one making me write this. The doc says it’ll help me put things into perspective.
To be clear, I don’t have sexual harassment issues. I have sexual frustration issues.
And it’s totally not my fault.
That responsibility rests squarely with the person I’m being accused of harassing. I see her each and every weekday morning at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m.
Funny. I used to think that was the best time of the whole day. I lived for starting my mornings so early, not seeing my bed until many, many hours later.
Unless it was for recreation.
At the risk of sounding cocky, I recreated a lot.
Sex is my sport of choice. Or at least it was, until Jen waltzed through the station door and announced she was my new morning-show co-host.
I swear, she’s developed some sort of pheromone-canceling ESP that follows me around everywhere and cockblocks me at every turn. I haven’t gotten laid in… too long.
Honestly, I haven’t been keeping track. 
Actually, yes, I have. 
It’s been two months. 
Coincidentally, that’s exactly how long Jensen MacKenzie has been my co-host.
I don’t think my balls can get any bluer.

Reviews


Iva's Review


I have stalked Stevie Kisner's facebook page almost daily for the past six months, anxiously waiting for Waking Up in Vegas to be released. Stevie very graciously gave Kota's Book Kollection Blog an exclusive introduction to Tack during our Christmas giveaway and straight away I wanted more! So with that type of anticipation, finally getting to read Waking Up in Vegas was a little scary. I mean - what if it was total shit?


Early morning radio host Tack Morgan is a "shallow man-whore, only concerned about his job, magazine covers and his next one-nighter." That is until Jensen Mackenzie inserts herself into his life and has him wondering how the hell is he going to survive with her cramping his style and messing with his life.

Waking Up in Vegas is written entirely in Tack Morgan's perspective in what is a humourous and honest narration. Stevie Kisner has written a fantastic male character, walking a fine line between a complete arsehole and a regular male. Tack is very confident in himself and his sexual prowess and doesn't see how offensive he comes off to others. He is so open in his thought processes as he narrates the story that you can't help but admire him despite his flippant behaviour towards others.

Jensen Mackenzie is an enigma to Tack. She unknowingly manages to get beneath his skin despite his best efforts. Jensen doesn't act coy and also holds her own against Tack in a battle of wits. She doesn't offend easily, which is a major plus when dealing with Tack and is comfortable within her own skin and is refreshingly natural to both Tack and the reader. Stevie Kisner has written Jensen in a way that allows her to be as big a presence in the story as Tack, despite the reader only knowing her through Tack's observations. 

The book is written almost like a journal in that Tack communicates with the reader. This gives the story so much more impact than a often used dual perspective would have had and highlights the talent of the author in bringing characters to life. It also gives the book a more humourous feel and allows Tack to be himself in a truly honest way. 

What I truly loved about the story was how unique it felt. Stevie Kisner got Tack's character so right that you can love him in an exasperated way right from the beginning. The humour is so brillantly intertwined with the prose that you never stop smiling and sniggering at some of Tack's colourful descriptions of his reactions to Jensen. The plot is fantastic and Jensen is a female character you can admire and respect.  

If there was one thing I hated about the story it was that there was a The End. I overcame this by starting the book again, and once again smiled the whole way through, enjoying it for different reasons the second time. 

So now Stevie Kisner has a problem. 

No longer will I be looking at her Facebook page once a day now that I have read Waking up in Vegas. Nah, now it will be twice daily or twelve times daily, and I'll be sending a friend request!! 




Kota's Review


Meet Tack Morgan…  world class ladies man… I mean man whore, perennial bachelor and Las Vegas Radio DJ.

Meet Jensen Mackenzie, Tack’s new co-host and perennial pain in his arse!

Life is good for Tack, he gets laid…  LOTS, and he has it all set up that he never dips twice.  Women are his buffet.. and then karma must have gotten the shits, because his behaviour starts to catch up to him.
Jensen is new in town, she has her hands full trying to fit into to Tack’s morning show world and settle in Las Vegas.

So where do I start.  I am far from as articulate as Ms Kisner, or Iva for that matter.  But I loved this story. Tack, oh Tack – you made me laugh out loud, physically cringe and cheer for you from the sidelines. Jensen, you have such spunk.  I love your wit, your ability to flirt with the best of them, your fierce independence and most of all your ability to stick it to Tack when he gets out of line.

Stevie Kisner, I love your style.  Your storytelling is brilliant.  Your ability to capture the heart and soul of your characters, and have them literally sitting next to you while you read, makes this story the perfect accompaniment.

Waking up in Vegas is a breath of fresh air.  Tack is a flawed man, but he is not broken, he manages relationships in a particular way because it works for him.  Not because he is traumatised from a past that haunts him, sure his past influences his choices, but he chooses how it defines him.  He is also fully cognisant in choosing when he wants something else.  Tack tells it like it is.  He is hilarious, particularly when he is in blue balls hell! When he sets his sights on something, his journey to get there is real, funny, heartbreaking, compassionate and pure.

Jensen is a strong woman.  She does not need to fix Tack.  She is not broken, damaged, naïve, weak or any of the other traits depicted by our leading ladies.  She is an awesome woman, who knows her mind.  She can talk the talk and walk the walk.  She is funny, sweet, determined and just the perfect companion to Tack in so many ways.  She could so easily be your best friend.

Waking up in Vegas is from Tack’s perspective.  The fact is, Tack says lots of things that make you roll your eyes.  But when Tack tells you exactly what you are thinking while you roll your eyes you can't help but laugh.  Its like this is Tack’s diary, and you, the reader play the part of dear diary.  

Ms Kisner has found the perfect balance of humour, frustration, romance, hope and happy ever after to make this page turning story one you would happily read again and again.

So, those that have read many of my recent reviews have probably noticed I have been in a bit of a slump. Many stories, as perfect as they appear to be have not been tickling my fancy.  But Waking up in Vegas had me reading with a permanent smile etched on my face.  I was laughing out loud, and groaning “Oh Tack…. (and not in a sexual way trust me!) you didn’t…”  I love this story.  Ms Kisner has definitely earned a new fan here.  And you should all follow her, harass her, and demand more of her work, she engages in a way that is different from most, and it is truly enjoyable watching her story unfold.



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About Stevie



I’ve been writing stuff for other people to see since I was just shy of five years old and read my cousin’s copy of ‘Charlotte’s Web.’ I wrote my glowing opinion (and a few study questions) all over the nice tan hardcover. *singing* I got to keep it, I got to keep it… (and I still have it. Somewhere.)

I’ll read anything. Books, magazines, cereal boxes, shampoo bottles, junk mail… and liner notes. Boy HOWDY on the liner notes! I’m a total rock music junkie, and collect old vinyl, ‘cause nothing can beat the intricate details you can see on a twelve-by-twelve album cover. But I don’t discriminate. You can’t pry my mp3 out of my hands most days.

When I’m not reading, I’m writing (both into the wee hours of the morning) and have an unfettered love affair with caffeine in all its magical forms.

I grew up in and around Cleveland, Ohio, spent most of a decade in Sacramento (and consider that home), and currently live in a suburb of Albuquerque, New Mexico with my husband and college-student son. By day, I peddle smut (Seriously, I do. I own an adult store/headshop) and screw around online. Facebook is a giant timesuck, and I love it there (StevieKisner), and you can also find separate (and still useless) ramblings on StevieKisner.com.  

Stevie's Social Media Links


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