Friday, August 5, 2016

Cover Reveal: Avarice by A.C. Melody

Avarice CR Banner

Avarice Cover

Devils Only
It was a permanent note-to-self tattooed right above Kameo Kross's panties, because anything less was a disappointment. Had anyone cared to issue the warning: Be careful what you wish for, she might have thought twice before wording it like an actual invitation.
Kami doesn't fear pain, death or eternal damnation. She fears only submitting completely. A matter she usually has well in hand... until an unexpected detour into kink and a relentless bastard of a new boss decide to put all of her resistance–and chosen ink–to the trickiest of tests.

A.C. Melody is a quirky, unconventional and often contrary (mostly to herself) hybrid author, both traditionally and self-published. She has a soft spot for hard ass alphas and the strong women who capture their hearts. Her favorite part of writing, is having the ability to explore her favorite subjects from angels she's never read before. Also, she loves putting her characters through the ringer one way or another, to expose all of the various facets that make them tick.
Outside of writing, A.C. is a confessed javaholic who loves reading, music, gaming, American Football, ancient civilizations, foreign cultures and everything supernatural. She has an insatiable curiosity that tends to earn her more hobbies than time. You can find her in the beautifully green Pacific Northwest with her two teenage sons and two blue-eyed, Himalayan-Siamese mixes who think they own the joint.


Thursday, August 4, 2016

Cover Reveal:The Witchling Seer by B. Kristin McMichael

Title: The Witchling Seer (Skinwalkers Witchling Book 3)
Author: B. Kristen McMichael
Genre: YA Paranormal
Cover Designer: Jessica Allain Art
Expected Release Date: August 30th, 2016

Cassie wasn’t happy when she got her first mate. Then she got a second mate. She’d give anything to have no mates; that is until she meets someone who once had the same fate as her. Instead of running from it, Cassie is told to embrace it and make her own choices. That is exactly what she plans to do, but how can she make choices when she never seems to have all the details? Something more is happening, and this time, the wendigo are not part of it. The peace Cassie brought between the two clans is very thin. She must work quickly to find a solution, but there always seem to be more questions than answers.

Pre Order Link:

B. Kristin McMichael is the author of YA and clean NA paranormal fiction. Her vampiric "Night Human World" includes the YA coming of age series "The Blue Eyes Trilogy" and the spin-off adventure series "The Day Human Trilogy". She's also the author of the NA time travel romance series "The Chalcedony Chronicles".
The Blue Eyes Trilogy:
The Day Human Trilogy:
The Chalcedony Chronicles:
For more information on all of her books, visit
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B. Kristin graduated with her PhD in biology at Ohio State where she worked as a scientist before taking her passion of writing full-time. Besides writing, she enjoys chasing her kids, playing outside, and baking cookies.
B. Kristin McMichael lives in Ohio with her husband and three children. If you don’t find her writing, then she probably has a book in her hand. Make sure to stop by and say hi on her social media.

Author Links:

“I believe my niece needs to eat something. She’s had a few trying days,” John told the guys.
Understatement of the week, but effective. Both pulled out of her head as they got the hint that John was basically instructing them to leave Cassie alone. Again, she was going to have to thank him.
“Try weeks,” Cassie replied, grabbing for the syrup. Once her pancakes were covered, she reached for her milk first.
“Jared was just telling me that he and some of his friends decided they want to enroll in school in town,” Maria said, starting the conversation up again.
Cassie almost spit out the milk she was drinking. That wasn't a good plan for anyone. The wendigo and the skinwalkers didn’t get along for even a moment. Jared and Nate only tolerated each other because they had to. They were linked together through Cassie. If that wasn’t there, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t be sitting together at the same table.
Jared shrugged. “I was pulled from school eight years ago and want to give it another try. I think my grade level matches up with you. Maybe we’ll be in the same classes.”
Nate’s level of annoyance with Jared was slowly rising.
“Aren’t you a senior like me?” Nate asked.
Jared shrugged again. “I’ve missed a bit of schooling over the past few years. I figure it would be best to go back a grade and make sure I didn’t skip over anything important.”
That wasn’t the answer Nate was looking for. His eyes flashed the sparkly blue of his tiger animal form.
Glancing across the table at Maria, she mouthed the words ‘help me’ to her aunt. There was way too much testosterone in the room for Cassie to deal with. She planned to finish her food and march straight back to bed. She would stay there until the guys went away. It was her day off, and Cassie wanted peace and quiet.
The back door flung open, and Cassie was relieved to see Whitney standing there. Rising, Cassie ran over to hug her friend, but stopped in her tracks when she took a good look at Whitney. Her friend’s tear-streaked face was distraught.
“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked.
Whitney started to cry. Maria jumped up and helped Cassie usher Whitney to the chair she had just been sitting in. Cassie stood by her friend, worried. Something had to be majorly wrong. Whitney barely ever cried. Unless it had something to do with Sam, her little brother.
“What happened to Sam?” Cassie asked.
She hadn’t thought they would allow someone that young to fight the night before, but she didn’t know how the clan worked. Whitney had explained that Sam had already changed twice into his totem. If you were old enough to marry at sixteen, maybe you were old enough to fight at twelve.
“They’re still missing,” Whitney sobbed.
“Who’s still missing?” Cassie asked.
John and Maria had freed all the witches the night before. Everyone should have been home tucked in their own beds if they slept like Cassie, or already beginning their day like John and Maria.
“Everyone. My dad. My brother. Six of the witches are still missing. My mother never came home.” Whitney began to cry again.
‘We didn’t touch them the whole time we had them,’ Jared quickly told Cassie even though her thoughts hadn’t drifted there yet.
If the wendigo didn’t do anything, and John had freed them, then where did they end up? Cassie looked up at her uncle, and the spatula was nothing more than a ball of metal in his hand. She turned to Nate, who seemed as confused as Jared did. Why were there six witches missing?

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Sales Blitz: Ghostboy, Chameleon & the Duke of Graffiti by Olivia Wildenstein

Title: Ghostboy, Chameleon & the Duke of Graffiti
Author: Olivia Wildenstein
Genre: YA Contemporary Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Foreword Reviews INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award Finalist!

Some endings are inevitable, but so are some stories.
Cora Matthews, the principal’s gloomy goth daughter, is not exactly popular Duke Meyer’s type. Still, Duke finds himself inexplicably drawn to her dark eyes and mysterious manner. She makes it clear she doesn’t return his admiration, but when a burst appendix lands Duke in the hospital, he and Cora will be forced to come together by the most unlikely intermediary: her eight-year-old brother, Jaime.
Duke learns Jaime has brain cancer and little chance of long-term survival. He admires the kid’s plucky positivity and wild imagination and offers to write a story about Jaime’s make-believe superheroes. So begins an epic tale—that of Ghostboy, Chameleon, and the Duke of Graffiti—and a deep friendship between Duke and Jaime.
Despite their outward differences, Cora and Duke bond over their affection for Jaime, but unintended betrayal and Jaime’s advancing disease threaten to derail their blossoming romance before it can truly take root.
Ghostboy, Chameleon & the Duke of Graffiti is a gorgeous debut novel that will resonate with the thoughtful fans of John Green’s blockbuster The Fault in Our Stars.

Buy Link:
#Free with #KindleUnlimited #99cents

Olivia Wildenstein grew up in New York City, the daughter of a French father with a great sense of humor, and a Swedish mother whom she speaks to at least three times a day. She chose Brown University to complete her undergraduate studies and earned a bachelor’s in comparative literature. After designing jewelry for a few years, Wildenstein traded in her tools for a laptop computer and a very comfortable chair. This line of work made more sense, considering her college degree.
When she’s not writing, she’s psychoanalyzing everyone she meets (Yes. Everyone), eavesdropping on conversations to gather material for her next book, baking up a storm (that she actually eats), going to the gym (because she eats), and attempting not to be late at her children’s school (like she is 4 out of 5 mornings, on good weeks).
Wildenstein lives with her husband and three children in Geneva, Switzerland, where she’s an active member of the writing community.
Author Links:
Buy Link:
#Free with #KindleUnlimited
A bright light pressed against my clasped lids. Aliens were drifting down from their spaceship to take me home. I was being abducted.
            “No,” I mumbled. “I’m not coming with you.”
            “Huh?” was the alien’s response. It creased its triangular forehead. “You don’t have to. You can stay right here.”
            The alien had a childish voice. Bizarre, considering the number of wrinkles on its purple skin.
            “I have no interest in your planet,” I said again.
“My planet?”
My eyelids flipped up and I jerked backward from the flashlight shining in my face. The movement awakened the incision on my right side, making the whole area ache.
“Hi,” said the childish alien voice.
“Turn that thing off,” I muttered.
The handheld flashlight snapped off, but my bedside lamp switched on, revealing a small and very human boy.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“Yes, you did,” I said grumpily.
“Okay, maybe I did.” He shifted on his feet. His head was leveled with mine, yet he was standing. “I’m Jaime. You’ve been out for a long time.”
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s called sleeping. That’s what people do at night.”
“I can’t sleep,” he said.
“I can see that.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
I was tempted to ignore him, but he seemed too young to be alone in a hospital at night. “Duke. Duke Meyer.”
“No way!” he whispered, seemingly in awe. “I’m sharing my room with the Duke of Graffiti? The guy who spray-painted the woodie on the woodie?”
“Do you even know what a woodie is?”
Maybe he wasn’t as young as I thought he was.
“How did you hear about the…incident?” I asked.
“Greenwich is small.”
The story must’ve spread from my classmates to the rest of their families, and thus to our entire town.
“You’re, like, my hero,” he said.
“Hero, huh? I vandalized someone’s car. Not very heroic.”
“I know. Still thought it was cool, though.”
“Glad I made your day then,” I said. “Are you here by yourself?”
“No. You’re here too. You weren’t abducted by aliens.”
I cocked a brow and a jolt of pain radiated through my forehead. “Ouch.”
“I never had appendicitis,” Jaime said, toying with the strings that kept his Batman pajama bottoms up. “Does it hurt?”
I nodded.
“There’s some pain medication on your table. You wannit?” he asked.
“Hell yeah.”
I shot out my palm and he dropped two tablets into it. I swallowed them and then chased them with the cup of water he gave me.
“Are you sure they were pain meds?” I asked, suddenly more awake.
“They could have been peanut M&Ms. Did they taste chocolaty?”
I snorted.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “They were pain meds. I’m used to taking them.”
“Really? Why?” I asked.
“For pain. Duh.”
“You’re a smart aleck, aren’t you?”
He grinned and thick black lashes blinked down over blue eyes that seemed to take up a third of his face. “So where did the aliens want to take you?” he asked, going to sit on his bed. I could see it now that he’d drawn the divider open.
“On their spaceship,” I said.
“I would totally go.”
“You’d go with a bunch of creepy, triangular-headed dudes on a spacecraft destined for God-knows-where? Get out…You would never set foot on that thing. You’d probably run home crying to your mommy.”
“My mom’s dead, and I don’t cry.”
“Oh. Sorry, I…umm…didn’t mean to—”
“That’s fine.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “She died when I was born, so I never knew her.”
“How old are you?”
“Eight. What happened to your forehead?” he asked.
“Sliced it open.”
“I fell against a metal weight rack,” I said.
He giggled and I noticed he was missing two teeth.
“What?” I asked.
“You should make up a cooler story. Like you were cut with a knife while defending a woman and her baby in Montgomery Park.”
“Okay…” I didn’t want to shoot the kid’s idea down, but I wasn’t going to brag about some fabricated feat.
“You’re not gonna do it, are you?”
“What?” I asked. “Lie?”
He scrunched his brow in disappointment, and gaped down at his bare feet that swung without touching the floor.
“How about I tell people I was juggling ninja stars, and one slipped and carved out my forehead?”
He looked back up at me. “Cool. But not as cool as my story. How about you got caught by government spies, and they tortured you because they thought you were harboring a Colombian drug lord in your basement?”
“Umm…You have a very active imagination, don’t you?”
“I read a lot.”
“At eight?”
He was rolling a piece of the rumpled bed sheet between his thumb and index. “It takes my mind off things.”
I grunted. “What sort of things do you have going on at eight?”
“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I have no life.”
“That’s not what I meant, Jaime.”
A long silence set in. Rubber soles squeaked just outside our door. I wondered if someone was coming to check on us, but the footsteps continued and then petered out.
“Why are you in the hospital?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled.
My gaze darted to the small pile of comics on his nightstand.
“Do you like comic books?” he asked, following my line of sight. His voice had perked up again.
“Do you want to borrow one?”
“Sure. It’s not like I can sleep anymore,” I added under my breath.
He didn’t say he was sorry. Probably because he wasn’t. He slid off his bed and carried over a few books. I selected a Superman, which looked as though it had basked in the sun for a decade.
Jaime peered at the cover. “Lois Lane’s going to activate a de-aging machine and turn herself into a baby, but Clark Kent will give her the antidote. He puts it in a baby bottle to teach her a lesson.”
“I wouldn’t want to watch a thriller with you,” I said.
“It’s all right. I’ll just find something else to read.” I took another book from the pile he’d placed on my tray. It was an equally vintage-looking comic strip. The colored ink had turned sepia, like the family photographs on my grandmother’s nightstand.
“I think that’s the one where Archie marries Veronica,” he said.
I frowned.
“Show me the last page?” he asked.
I flipped to the last page and held it out so only he could see it.
“Yup. I was right.”
I sighed. “I guess I won’t be reading that one either.”
“Just because you know the ending doesn’t mean you shouldn’t read it,” he said as the door of our bedroom flew open.
“Well, slap my head and call me silly! You boys havin’ a party without me?” Hummer-nurse winked at Jaime but shooed him off my mattress. “It’s the middle of the night, hun. Off to sleep or I’ll get in trouble with your daddy.”
“Okay,” he grumbled. She tucked him underneath the covers and then replaced my empty IV bag with a fresh one. “What time did you take those pills I left ya?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
She checked my blood pressure and bandages and then clicked off my nightlight. “You’ll be outta here before the day’s out. Healthy as an ox. You need anythin’ else?”
“I wouldn’t mind another glass of water,” I said.
“Comin’ right up. And you, hun?” she asked Jaime.
“Same thing.”
“I’ll be back before you can spell Yolanda,” she said.
“Thanks, Yolanda,” Jaime said.
“Anythin’ for you, sweet pea.” She stood still for a second, staring at him.
When she left, Jaime whispered, “Yolanda’ll give you some candy if you get on her good side.”
I squelched my first thought, which was, how do you know that? Obviously, he’d spent a lot of time in this hospital. Even though I was curious, I didn’t try to coax it out of him. Maybe Yolanda would tell me. “How do you get on her good side?”
“Talk to her about her cats,” he whispered. “She loves cats.”
Just as he said that, she trundled back into the room and put a glass of water on both our trays. “Nighty night, boys,” she said, before leaving and closing our door.
“Hey, Duke,” Jaime said, his voice low.
“Could you tell me a story?” he asked.
I chewed on my lip, trying to come up with something that would entertain an eight-year-old. I decided on the alien abduction tale, but this time they were taking Jaime back to their planet, which was salmon colored because fire raged underneath the white rocks, and the air was devoid of gravity, so you could fly around. As I wove a more complex plot about kidnapping specific humans to bring new skill sets to their planet, I realized that I wouldn’t have minded being abducted by aliens after all.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Release Blitz: Rock With You by Rachel Lacey




Carly Taylor is pretty sure she's dreaming. It's not possible that Sam Weiss - rock star god and sexy hotness personified - is actually in her bakery. This sort of thing never happens in the too-small town of Haven. Or to her. And being stranded in a secluded mountain cabin with the deliciously decadent Sam during an ice storm? This is definitely not Carly's real life . . .
Now there's just the two of them, a roaring fire, lots of food and drink, and a sizzling attraction - one that just might make Carly do the unexpected. For one night, she'll live the fantasy. For one night, nothing else matters. . . not her struggling business, not her lonely life, not Sam's bad-boy reputation. But sometimes one night can turn one crazy, beautiful dream into something real.



Carly Taylor crouched behind the display case, peeking out between the blueberry muffins and the orange-cranberry scones. A man stood just inside the door, baseball cap pulled low, talking on his phone. He’d never come into A Piece of Cake Bakery before. And it was probably just her imagination playing tricks on her, but she could swear it was Sam Weiss. As in, one of the hottest rock stars in America. Carly peeked at him again from behind the scones, then leaned over to pick up the napkin she’d pretended to drop to give herself an excuse to snoop. Sam Weiss probably lived in Hollywood. There was no way he’d be standing here—sans entourage—in the doorway of her little bakery in Haven, North Carolina, a town in the Smoky Mountains so small that it barely registered as a blip on the map. Nope. She was daydreaming, as usual. She’d listened to Sam’s latest album, Renegade, this morning while she baked, and now she was imagining him here in her shop. “What are you doing down there, Carly?” Carly looked up to see her grandma, Marlene, peering at her over the glass countertop. “I, ah, dropped something.” “Lost in your thoughts again?” her grandmother asked with a wide smile. “Something like that.” Carly climbed to her feet, clutching the dropped napkin. Her grandmother’s friend Dixie stood beside her, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “Daydreaming about that handsome young man over by the door, I bet.” Carly resisted the urge to glance in his direction but felt herself grinning anyway. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Well, we’re on our way out,” her grandmother said. “Aqua aerobics to work off those muffins.” “Worth every calorie,” Dixie added. The two women waved as they headed for the door, walking past the mystery hottie as they left. Carly’s grandma had created this bakery and ran it happily for over twenty years. She’d retired six months ago, handing over the reins to Carly. But owning A Piece of Cake had been anything but a piece of cake for Carly so far. Profits were down, way down. She needed to get her head out of the clouds—and her mind off certain rock star look-a-likes—before she ran her grandmother’s pride and joy straight into the ground. With a heavy sigh, she tossed the napkin she still held into the trash. “What do you recommend?” She looked up and into the blue eyes of Sam Weiss—or his non-celebrity twin. Lookalike or not, he was ridiculously hot, and she was a dork because her cheeks were burning. He wore a leather jacket over a black T-shirt and dark-washed jeans. But his eyes…wow. He still wore the baseball cap pulled low, with a sinful amount of stubble on his cheeks that all screamed Rock God. “If you have a sweet tooth, you should, um, try a cinnamon bun. They’re my specialty.” He leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter. “I do have a sweet tooth, especially for a pretty woman who bakes. This your place?” That voice. Sweet Jesus. It was smooth as caramel with just a hint of a southern twang, and she’d know it anywhere. Sam Weiss is in my shop! And did he just hit on me? “Yes.” She cleared her throat because why did she suddenly sound like Minnie Mouse? “Yes, this is my shop.” A slow smile curved his lips. “A pretty woman who bakes and owns her own business. I like you already.” “Thanks.” She really shouldn’t keep staring, but whoa, her brain was short-circuiting because…Sam Weiss. In her shop. Looking like sex on a stick, and he smelled pretty awesome too, like some kind of expensive cologne. Yum. “I’ll try one of your cinnamon buns…” He paused, glancing down for the nametag she never wore since everyone in town already knew her name. “Carly,” she said, still sounding a bit like she’d inhaled helium. “Carly.” He met her gaze again, and the sound of her name on his lips made her knees wobble. “And a coffee, black.” “You got it,” she said with a smile that felt weird on her face, and God, why was she being such an idiot? “For here?” He nodded, watching her intently as if he’d figured out by all her bumbling dorkiness that she’d recognized him because, really, how could he not? At least he looked amused instead of annoyed. She dished up a cinnamon bun and a cup of coffee without dropping anything or making a further fool of herself, and he paid in cash—denying her the thrill of seeing what name might be on his credit card. He probably went by some cool alter ego when he traveled anyway. “Thanks, Carly,” he said in that butter-soft voice that made her feel all hot and fluttery inside. Then he leaned in, winked, and pressed a finger to his lips, making a silent, “sh.” And oh my God, he knew she knew. Which meant it was definitely him. And she grinned like an idiot while he walked to a table in the back and sat, long legs stretched in front of him. A muffled beep from the direction of the kitchen told her she’d forgotten to take the last batch of butterscotch pecan sandies out of the oven. So much for keeping her mind on business this morning. But at this exact moment—her eyes still on Sam Weiss—she didn’t care. Not even a little bit.

Rachel Lacey

Rachel Lacey is a contemporary romance author and semi-reformed travel junkie. She's been climbed by a monkey on a mountain in Japan, gone scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, and camped out overnight in New York City for a chance to be an extra in a movie. These days, the majority of her adventures take place on the pages of the books she writes. She lives in warm and sunny North Carolina with her husband, son, and a variety of rescue pets.


Release Blitz: Man of Honor by Diana Gardin



Drake Sullivan has served as the strong and steady savior his entire life. But when his alcoholic mother's funeral dredges up some old, dark, emotions, he finds himself struggling to put the bottle down himself. His inner demons are threatening to tear him apart, despite the fact that the sexiest woman he's ever met keeps showing up in every area of his life again and again.
For Mea Jones, one night with Drake wasn't enough. As much as she hates to admit it to herself, he got under her skin three years ago during their one-night stand, and she's been trying to forget him ever since. But now their best friends are getting married, and the fact that they keep getting thrown together is making it harder to ignore his striking face and hulking, perfectly sculpted ex-Ranger's body.
When the electricity between them can no longer be restrained, the fireworks that ensue are hotter than the sun. But will their relationship be able to survive the darkest secret from Mea's past rearing its ugly head? Or the demons within Drake working to bring him down the same path that destroyed his mother?



His expression carries a hint of danger and a sexy confidence that’s all Drake. His biceps bulge through his gray long-sleeved Henley, and it pulls taut over the broad planes of his chest. I can’t help it; my eyes scan every inch of him slowly. Hungrily. A gradual flame has been burning since I saw him this morning, and seeing him now, straddling his ATV, looking all windswept and sexy, it’s going to spread into an uncontrollable fire really quick. His faded jeans fit him just right; I can see the strong ridges of his thigh muscles as he clenches the seat. “Mea.” My eyes look to his, startled at the sandpaper tone in his deep voice. “Get on my ride.” My eyebrows fly up. “What?” “Get on. I won the bet. That’s what I want. You behind me on this four-wheeler.” Oh, hell. The usual Mea would never allow a man to order her around. The usual Mea would usually tell him exactly what he could do with his bet and turn my back. But with Drake, I don’t want to be the usual Mea. The usual Mea is lonely, deep down. She doesn’t let anyone get close enough to see the profound slices that mar her heart and the war wounds that afflict her soul. The usual Mea gets by with shallow, surface emotions that are usually enough to fool those around her, and deflecting questions that get too personal, cut too deep. But that Mea is bone-weary and Drake is slowly wearing away at the wall she’s built around her so artfully. I don’t hesitate. Climbing off my ATV, I walk the few short steps it takes to get to him and climb on the back. My arms go around his slim waist and my face lies against his back. He smells like outdoor air, pine, and scented soap. It’s becoming my new favorite scent. His right hand reaches back, curling around my thigh with deliberate possession. When he looks back at me, there’s no humor in his eyes. “Ready?” It’s a loaded question. Am I ready to ride on the back of this ATV with him? Yes. Am I ready to trust him with my safety? Yes. Am I ready to give my body over to him, passionately and with abandon? Yes. Am I ready to trust him with my heart? Not yet. It’s locked up too tight, and I’m not sure I can even remember where I hid the key.

Last True Hero
Saved by the SEAL
Diana Gardin is a wife of one and a mom of two. Writing is her second full time job to that, and she loves it! Diana writes contemporary romance in the Young Adult and New Adult categories. She's also a former Elementary school teacher. She loves steak, sugar cookies, and Coke and hates working out.