Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Grease Babe by Elle Aycart #CoverReveal

Today we have the cover reveal for Elle Aycart’s GREASE BABE! Check it out and be sure to pre-order your copy today!

Title: Grease Babe

Author: Elle Aycart

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: September 14th

About Grease Babe:

Alden is not only home to the gorgeous Bowen brothers, but also to the OGs, three hilarious octogenarian grandmas who believe age is nothing but a number. After their success helping one grandchild find love, they’ve decided to move on to the next. Nothing will stop them. Not even jail… Rachel’s upbringing was rough, but at 34, she loves the life she’s built for herself. She adores her grandmother, Alden, and her job as a mechanic. Now, if her grandma and her friends would just stop getting into trouble, everything would be perfect. She’s doing her best to keep them on the straight and narrow, but she spends more time arguing with the sheriff than working in her garage. Case in point the OGs’ latest stunt, which got all of them, Rachel included, sentenced to community service. So now she has to keep an eye on the crazy grannies and on the street teenage thugs she’s been court-ordered to teach mechanics to. And all thanks to the sheriff and that huge, unbendable stick up his ass. Adrian Skehan, a top-notch detective in Boston, enjoyed putting dangerous criminals and drug kingpins behind bars. He loved his fast-paced, glamorous city life, but after his estranged grandfather had a major stroke, he moved to Alden, became the sheriff and now he spends his days chasing after senior citizens and dealing with the OGs –the bane of his existence— and Rachel, their obnoxious defender. Terrific career move, really. Way to screw up his life. And his mental wellbeing. As if life wasn’t hard enough, now the OGs have decided to work on their bucket list… meaning the granddaughter and the sheriff must join forces to survive the mayhem. He likes his women… ivory-tower delicate. Not loud, highly opinionated and smelling of gasoline. She likes her men… easy-going. Not arrogant know-it-alls and sticklers for rules. Keeping these two together is a recipe for disaster. Too bad the OGs don’t see it that way.

Pre-Order Today!


About Elle Aycart:

After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.

Connect with Elle:

Goodreads | Website | Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Facebook Group

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

The Wreckage of Us by Brittainy C. Cherry

The Wreckage of Us
by Brittainy C. Cherry

My Rating: 4.5 Stars

Publisher: Montlake (September 8, 2020)
Publication Date: September 8, 2020
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Available from: Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Never in a million years did I think it would be Ian Parker who saved me...

I know I should stay away from Ian Parker.

But when my drug-dealing stepdad kicks me out, I have nowhere to go. Squatting in an abandoned shed on Ian’s grandpa’s farm seems like as good a plan as any.

Ian finds me there, of course, and he insists on me moving into his spare room. I should say no, but the appeal of a roof and a warm bed is too much. Not to mention Ian’s brown eyes and strong arms.

We’re nothing alike, but the spark between us is undeniable. My life is finally looking up.

Until I call the cops on my stepdad and unintentionally get my pregnant mom arrested.

Now I have to sacrifice my dreams to take care of my mom’s baby. She’s the only family I have left. Meanwhile, Ian’s band is taking off; his dreams are coming true.

Ian is my one chance at love. I just hope he doesn’t become the one chance that got away.
The Wreckage of Us by Brittainy C. Cherry

The Wreckage of UsA river of angst, a mountain of hateful actions, a young woman struggling not to drown in the sewer that is her life and a young man who unknowingly keeps pushing her head under water. Brittainy C. Cherry’s New Adult dark romance, THE WRECKAGE OF US is a story of strength and perseverance against all odds, a selfish and blind sheep holding on to the “guilt by association” grudge and learning the difference between lies and the truth.

No one knew what Hazel’s life was like, she held it in, took the town’s disdain and vowed to rise above it all, because she had dreams and a good heart. Ian had faced some horrible losses, but he had family to use as his parachute. When forced to give Hazel a chance or lose his cushy life, Ian began to realize how wrong he was about the girl who hid under all of that makeup.

A gritty and gut-wrenching tale, this one follows the “rules” of New Adult books and rides the edge of “over-the-top,” for me. I absolutely felt 100% for Hazel, but her keeping to herself all that was happening in her life was a bit much. Ian began as a spoiled young man who used his past to color his view on Hazel. For me, a good read, but just a little too much detail in some areas and far too much drama.

I received a complimentary ARC edition from Montlake! This is my honest and voluntary review.


Why a Marauding Marquess is Best by Tammy Andresen (Romancing the Rogue, #4)

Why a Marauding Marquess is Best
by Tammy Andresen

My rating: 5 stars

Series: Romancing the Rogue - Book 4
Publisher: Swift Romance Publishing Corp (August 11, 2020)
Publication Date: August 11, 2020
Genre: Historical Romance
Print Length: 130 pages
Available from: Amazon

He's no woman's fool...

The Marquess of Hartwell will not be taken in by the Moorish clan and especially not the ridiculous Juliet Moorish. She's got her head in the clouds, which makes her a danger to everyone around her, as she sets about hatching little schemes. So what if her auburn hair is so lush and lovely, and he's begun daydreaming about running his fingers thought the locks? And the pretty pink of her lips, that's not making his heart beat any faster. No. He'll ignore her charms and focus on keeping her from destroying his cousin's life. The only problem: her sweet kisses might just ruin his own.

She'll not let one annoying marquess get in her way...

Juliet has plans. The first is getting her eldest sister, Ophelia, to the altar with a duke. Which shouldn't be difficult; the two are madly in love. The second is to find her own Prince Charming. She's picked out the perfect candidate, a viscount no less. Now if she can just keep one meddling Marquess from ruining all her plans, she'll be set. The only issue is that said marquess keeps popping up at the most unwelcome times. Just when she's about to tell him how absolutely dreadful he is, he kisses her. And well... it's quite delightful really. And wrong. She's already in love...isn't she?

Does she hate him or love him? Is he all wrong or perfectly right? Because this comedy of romantic errors, it's enough to make a girl scream in frustration. Or sigh in satisfaction. Perhaps she'll need to kiss him again to know for certain...
Why a Marauding Marquess is Best by Tammy Andresen
(Romancing the Rake, #4)

Why a Marauding Marquess is Best (Romancing the Rogue, #4)They say hate is the closest thing to love, so perhaps Juliet should have known that Dane’s ability to drive her crazy had a meaning deeper than just driving her crazy. For a man determined not to become another of Cupid’s victims around one of the Moorish sisters, he sure was showing all of the signs of falling!

WHY A MARAUDING MARQUESS IS BEST is Tammy Andresen’s latest addition to the sweet and comical romances involving the Moorish sisters. Juliet and Dane are delightfully in each other’s way at the worst or perhaps best of times. Their banter is entertaining, their story, while predictable in a good way, takes a slightly different path to love as, once again, I am left grinning. The prefect quick, feel-good read.

I received a complimentary ARC edition from Tammy Andresen! This is my honest and voluntary review.


Saturday, August 8, 2020

LIFE FOR LIFE by JK Franko Tour & #Giveaway

Life for Life

by JK Franko

on Tour August 1 - September 30, 2020

Synopsis:

Life for Life by JK Franko

What would YOU do if someone threatened your family?

Roy Cruise and his pregnant wife Susie barely survived an assassination attempt in their own home. The police now have them under surveillance. Meanwhile, Kristy Wise is a loose cannon—she knows too much and is trying to “set things right.”

What goes around comes around. And in this case, Roy and Susie may have pushed things too far. There are too many dead bodies. Too many foes plotting against them.

Roy and Susie must outwit the police and neutralize their enemies once and for all. If not, their days of retribution may end behind bars... or six feet under.

Life for Life is Book Three of the Talion crime thriller series which begins with the Eye for Eye Trilogy.
Eye for Eye
Tooth for Tooth
Life for Life

If you like smart, fast-paced thrillers with unexpected twists, then you’ll love J.K. Franko.

 

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller, Suspense, Crime, Legal
Published by: Talion Publishing
Publication Date: July 31st, 2020
Number of Pages: 396
ISBN:978-1-9993188-2-6
Series: Talion Series, #3
Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Death is always several seconds and a few footsteps away. Look around you, wherever you are right now. How many things are there within five feet of you that could kill you? An improperly grounded electrical outlet plugged into your tablet. A slippery, wet bath tile that sends your head smashing into the side of the tub. An invisible virus silently multiplying in your lungs.
From the moment of conception, we fight to cheat death. The majority of what parents do for most of a child’s life is simply keep them from dying. And much of what parents teach kids, from avoiding strangers to keeping their fingers out of their mouths, is about staying alive.
Although the odds are stacked against us, we get very good at cheating death. So good that, maybe out of misplaced pride or just to maintain our sanity, we tell ourselves that death is far off.
But it never is. And it comes for us all.
Given my profession, I have always feared death at the hands of a patient. For years, I imagined an unhinged, unmedicated client lashing out at me. Hopefully with a gun, not a knife. When I met Susie and Roy, that changed somewhat. I feared death at their hands not because they were unstable, but because I was expendable.
I must say that after the murder of former Congressman Getz, I believed that I finally had that situation under control. Susie, Roy, and I—and all of our incentives—were finally aligned. We were on the same team, so to speak. I foolishly believed that my life could simply return to normal.
But as I look back on everything now, with twenty-twenty hindsight, I can see that even as Roy was drowning Jeff Getz in the Bay of Pollença in Spain, the rough outlines of our tragic ending had already been sketched—all of the pieces were in place. Death was watching, and planning.
As you must appreciate by now, my story is inextricably intertwined with the stories of others. This is, of course, fundamental to the human condition. We are all part of a larger whole. Seemingly unrelated people and events, distant in time and location, weave their way in and out of our lives like the threads of a tapestry.
I have told you two stories from the past that directly impacted me, Susie, and Roy. I shared with you the tragic tale of little Joan’s death and how she was finally avenged. And, I shared with you the evil done to Billy Applegate and how Jeff Getz paid the ultimate price for that crime.
To complete the circle, for you to understand everything that happened to us, and so that you can take from all this the same cautionary lessons that I have learned, I need to share one final story with you. It is about a woman whose life was irreversibly impacted by our actions.
It is a story about love and death. And, in this case, depending on your point of view, you might even say that her story had a happy ending.

PART ONE

Rebecca Forsyth Turks and Caicos 2020

My work as a therapist requires imagination. To help someone, to really get inside their head, you have to have some sense of what they are going through. If you haven’t experienced what your patient is suffering firsthand, you must imagine.
For example, I have never had a panic attack. But then, only five percent of humans will experience a panic attack during their lifetimes. A pretty low number. So, how can I relate?
I must imagine.
From what my patients tell me, a panic attack closely resembles the feeling of claustrophobia. This is something that I have experienced. What gets me there instantly is that scene from Kill Bill—the one when the heroine Beatrix is buried under six feet of dirt in a coffin and left to die. Do you know it?
Indulge me.
Imagine that you wake up and open your eyes, but you can’t see anything. It’s pitch dark. So dark, you’re not sure your eyes are even open. You’re lying on your back. The air you’re breathing feels warm and slightly humid, the way it does when you’re sleeping with your head under the sheets.
You don’t know where you are, but you don’t hear the usual sounds you would hear in your bedroom. No ceiling fan. No A/C blowing. Everything is silent around you. Muffled.
You try to sit up and immediately feel a thump as your forehead hits something. Your hands automatically react and reach up, discovering that something dry and smooth—heavy, immovable—is laying on top of you, just inches above your body. Right above your face, your torso, your legs.
You try to stretch your arms out to either side, and you feel the same barrier just inches away from your elbows, from your shoulders. You move your legs, spreading them apart and lifting them up. They are able to move only inches before, again, you feel something boxing you in.
Your nose itches, but you can’t reach your face to scratch it. You clear your throat and can hear that the sound doesn’t travel. It’s close to you, stifled by the box you’re in. The box is made of wood. There’s maybe six inches between you and the box, all around your body. It’s so close you can smell it. Damp wood. You can also smell soil.
You’re in a box that’s been placed in a hole, six feet deep. On top of it, and on top of you, are six feet of dirt. That much dirt weighs over two thousand pounds. One ton.
The weight of the dirt prevents you from opening the box. The lid won’t budge. And even if you could break out of the box somehow, the dirt above you would fall into it, suffocating you before you could dig your way up to air.
There is no way out. No hope.
As you realize this, your heartbeat accelerates—firing more rapidly. Your breathing speeds up. You struggle to take in air. You’re not sure if you’re already running out of oxygen or simply panicking. You can feel the silent, blind weight of two thousand pounds of earth above you crushing down onto your body. Your legs are tight, anxious. Your body fights for more space... to move, to stretch out, to stand, to run. But on every side you are closed in. You know that out there, everywhere, there is air, freedom. A universe of wide-open space.
But not for you.
You scream. The sound is muffled by the box. The only one who can hear it is you, and you know it. And you remember, as you scream, that there is a very small supply of oxygen in the box. With each breath, you are depleting it, converting it into CO2.
You’re going to suffocate. And there is no way out.
That feeling of being closed in, of paralysis, of heart-racing suffocating hopelessness, is what a panic attack feels like. Just like being trapped in a coffin.
My patients say that this is how you will feel when you’re about to die.
When I try to imagine how Rebecca must have felt, 120 feet underwater with an empty scuba tank strapped to her back, I draw on this image.
* * *
Rebecca Forsyth was floating, weightless. Free as a bird. The feeling was otherworldly. And the view was breathtaking. Above her in every direction stretched a majestic canopy of bright blue. Looking heavenward, her eyes traced dancing beams of sunlight up and away until they converged into a round disc of shimmering white firmament. As she gazed downward, the world fell away from her—the bright blue and the light fading, everything becoming darker the further she looked. The only sound she could hear was the too-close, too-loud in-and-out of her own breathing, which she tried to control—relaxing, breathing slowly.
In: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. Out: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten.
She reached up, pinching her nose, and gently blew, equalizing the pressure in her ears—the Valsalva Maneuver.
Scuba diving was something Rebecca enjoyed, to a point. She was no expert, though she was open water certified and dove several times a year. She loved the feeling of weightlessness. And she liked being able to explore the ocean without having to bob up and down for air. She’d never quite mastered using a snorkel—she always had trouble clearing it of water. Scuba was much more convenient. No bobbing up and down. That being said, she had not done many deep dives.
Today was different.
Alan, Rebecca’s husband, had talked her into diving a wreck. A sunken ship. It was all perfectly safe. Alan was an extremely experienced diver. A certified instructor. He had spent numerous summers working as an instructor and had logged hundreds of hours. In fact, he was the one who had gotten Rebecca into the sport.
The plan was for Rebecca and Alan to follow standard protocol and stay close to one another, buddy diving in case of an emergency. As Rebecca floated about 40 feet underwater, Alan was signaling for her to follow him down toward the wreck, which at its deepest was 165 feet below the surface. They weren’t planning to go down that far. The bow of the ship was at about 110 feet.
Although Rebecca wasn’t crazy about diving so deep, she reluctantly followed. They were on vacation, trying to relax. Trying new things to reinvigorate their marriage. After five years married, they’d hit a rough patch. They’d had some issues. Nothing insurmountable, she would have told you.
Part of their problems stemmed from the way they approached things. Rebecca was more conservative in her thinking. Alan was more of a risk-taker. Of course, for her to have chickened out of this dive would only have served to underscore the differences between them.
She checked the air pressure in her tank and noticed that it was dropping a little faster than normal for her, given the amount of time they’d been underwater. But, she knew that she was stressing over the fact that they were going to dive so deep, and she was breathing a little more rapidly than usual. She reached up and slightly reduced the buoyancy of her BCD, then gently frog-kicked her legs to conserve energy and air, following her husband down into the dark blue depths.
Rebecca swam about ten feet behind Alan and a bit to his left. The bow of the wreck still lay another 70 feet below them and hadn’t come into view. Rebecca couldn’t see it yet. She also couldn’t see that, in addition to the bubbles that drifted up and away from her each time she exhaled, a stream of tiny bubbles trailed behind her. Air was escaping from her scuba tank through a small leak in the line to her backup regulator. As she descended into the depths, the water pressure around her grew, increasing the rate at which air was bleeding from her only tank.
Rebecca followed after Alan, taking in the immensity of the ocean floor that lay before her. The vastness of it was almost overwhelming. She tried to focus on keeping pace with her husband, and on breathing slowly.
In: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. Out: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten.
She scanned beyond him, hoping that the wreck would soon come into view as she gently kicked and followed. As they descended, they were following the natural slope of the ocean floor off the coast of the island. The seabed was spotted with seagrass, kelp, small fish, and here and there a lobster. She saw several lionfish as well.
Rebecca enjoyed fish-watching. Although, for her it was always secondary to keeping an eye out for sharks. The Caribbean is home to a great many species—nurse sharks, lemon sharks, reef sharks—which are generally harmless. But now and again, you will see more aggressive bull sharks and hammerheads.
Rebecca followed behind Alan, staying close, but she couldn’t help being entertained admiring the seascape. She regularly pinched her nose to clear her ears. After what felt like just a few minutes, a shape began to take form ahead of them. Alan stuck his arm out to his side and gave her a thumbs-up. It was the wreck. A few more kicks, and she could clearly see the silhouette of the freighter sitting on the ocean floor below.
It was a tranquil day and the water was clear. There was still very good visibility as they passed 100 feet, though at that depth the water filtered out most of the reds and yellows in the color spectrum. Everything was draped in shades of blue and green.
Rebecca and Alan were diving just off the coast of Providenciales in the Turks and Caicos Islands. The wreck they were approaching was the W.E. Freighter, a 100-ton ship that was purposely sunken just north of Turtle Cove to create an artificial reef. The plan for the reef had been for the ship to settle in somewhat shallow waters to create an attraction for recreational divers. The ship had unfortunately ended up much deeper than intended and required a bit of expertise to reach.
Once at the bow of the freighter, Alan stopped and gave Rebecca the “okay” sign. She responded in kind, indicating that she was fine. She checked her depth gauge and saw that they were at 110 feet, just what the guidebook had promised. Alan and Rebecca had agreed on the surface not to go inside the vessel. There was always danger of collapse or of getting trapped due to gear catching on something. There was also the risk of getting cut since what remained of the ship was decaying metal that tended to be sharp and jagged. A cut meant blood in the water. And blood in the water attracted sharks.
They hovered for a moment by the bow of the wreck.
As they looked about them, a small school of fish swam out of the boat through a hole in the hull. They were silver with what appeared to be yellow fins and tails, though the color was muted and dull due to the depth. Most were about two feet long. Rebecca recognized them as horse-eye jacks. They shimmered in the water as they swam past the husband and wife, less than three feet away. Alan reached out and touched one of the fish as it went by. It didn’t seem to notice or care.
Rebecca watched the school of fish briefly, then her focus shifted. Always scanning for sharks, she’d seen a shadowy movement not far from them—maybe forty feet. Whatever it was had whipped its body and quickly disappeared into the dark, murky distance. She kept scanning as the small school of fish swam away from them.
Suddenly, her peripheral vision registered a rapid movement coming from their left. She focused just in time to see sparkling glints of silver—a large barracuda rocketed in from the murkiness and sank its teeth into one of the jacks as the remainder of the school scattered. Thin wisps of black blood trailed behind the barracuda as it swam off, chomping and chewing on its prey. In the wake of the attack, the remaining jacks re-grouped and continued on as if nothing had happened.
It was not the first time that Rebecca had seen a predator make a meal of another fish. It never ceased to amaze her how an underwater scene could turn from completely tranquil to suddenly violent and bloody, and then return once again to the prior calm as though nothing had happened. She turned to Alan, who was shaking a hand back and forth as if to say, “Holy crap!” She gave him a thumbs-up in reply.
Rebecca continued to scan. Now there was blood in the water. And she was nervous—looking for sharks. As she looked around, Alan drifted a bit deeper examining the wreck. Rebecca was about to follow when a strange shape on the seafloor caught her eye. She felt her belly tighten and reached for her dive knife. She froze and watched carefully. Her patience was rewarded.
A sludgy-looking grey rock, which had apparently been laying low waiting for the barracuda incident to pass, decided that the coast was clear. Rebecca marveled as the rock changed color and texture, turning back into an octopus. The little guy half-swam half- crawled away, in the opposite direction of the barracuda. Rebecca smiled to herself. She loved those smart, creepy, eight-legged mollusks.
The octopus gone, she turned and saw that Alan had drifted about twenty feet away from her, deeper, exploring the hull of the wreck. He looked back at her and waved her towards him. Apparently, he’d found something of interest. Rebecca gave him a thumbs-up, and as she began to move, she looked down at her depth gauge.
Still at 110 feet.
They had agreed not to go below 130 feet, which was the official cut-off for recreational divers. Realizing it had been a while since she’d checked, she also took a look at her air pressure gauge.
Red.
A cold claw of panic squeezed Rebecca’s chest when she saw that the needle was in the red zone, between 200 PSI and zero. Almost empty. The gauge had to be wrong. She and Alan had both checked her tank in the boat. It was full then. And they’d not been diving that long—certainly not long enough for her to have used up a full tank of air.
She tapped on the gauge with a gloved finger. The needle didn’t move. Still red.
She carefully reached back behind her head with one hand to make sure the tank was fully open. Sometimes a not fully open tank would give a bad reading on a gauge. She turned the air valve in one direction and the flow of air stopped. Then she turned it in the other direction, fully opening the valve, and air flowed. She checked the gauge. Still red.
Rebecca looked up and saw that Alan had swum farther away from her, about thirty feet. And he was still moving. She fought down the panic and breathed out slowly: one-two-three-four-five-six- seven-eight-nine-ten.
Then in: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten.
She had two choices.
She could try to ascend. If she did, she’d be abandoning Alan—leaving him at risk. She also had no idea if the air in her tank would get her to the surface. If it didn’t, she’d have to make a “controlled emergency ascent.” She remembered from her training what that meant. Possible decompression sickness. Possible pulmonary barotrauma—essentially her lungs exploding. And, of course, she could drown.
Her other option was to get Alan’s attention and return to the surface using his backup regulator—an “alternate air source ascent.”
She had to choose quickly. Given her options, Rebecca decided she had to get to Alan. She frog-kicked gently, trying not to accelerate her heart rate or breathing, conserving air, swimming down deeper into the cold sea after her husband. As she swam after him, she removed her dive knife from its sheath and used the metal ball on the end of the hilt to bang on her tank, making a high- pitched metallic clink clink clink hoping to get Alan’s attention.
Alan continued to descend. He was too far away to hear her.
She was still breathing. She still had air.
But her brain began to work against her. Fear gripped her throat like a noose slowly tightening. As Rebecca swam deeper into the sea, the ocean began to collapse in on her. Tunnel vision. Panic began to rise in her belly. She felt boxed in.
Trapped.
She fought the fear, trying to keep her breathing slow. Kicking gently, trying to get to her husband. He had air. He was only thirty feet away.
Life was only thirty feet away.
She began to feel desperation. To lose hope.
Is this it?
Is this how I die?
Alan didn’t hear the continued and more desperately rapid clinking of her knife on her tank. He wasn’t turning. He was swimming deeper, and she was barely gaining on him. She began to kick harder, knowing that her heart rate would increase. And her breathing as well. She had to get to him. He was still too far away.
Rebecca kicked and breathed. Kicked and breathed.
Kicked and…
...she breathed in, and three quarters of the way through the breath she hit a wall—it was like she was sucking on a rubber hose that was closed at one end. There was nothing. She was out of air.
She couldn’t fight the panic any longer. Sheer panic.
The feeling of being closed-in, of paralysis, of heart-racing suffocating hopelessness hit Rebecca Forsyth like a brick wall.
***
Excerpt from Life for Life by JK Franko. Copyright 2020 by JK Franko. Reproduced with permission from JK Franko. All rights reserved.


Author Bio:

JK Franko
J.K. FRANKO was born and raised in Texas. His Cuban-American parents agreed there were only three acceptable options for a male child: doctor, lawyer, and architect. After a disastrous first year of college pre-Med, he ended up getting a BA in philosophy (not acceptable), then he went to law school (salvaging the family name) and spent many years climbing the big law firm ladder. After ten years, he decided that law and family life weren’t compatible. He went back to school where he got an MBA and pursued a Ph.D. He left law for corporate America, with long stints in Europe and Asia.
His passion was always to be a writer. After publishing a number of non-fiction works, thousands of hours writing, and seven or eight abandoned fictional works over the course of eighteen years, EYE FOR EYE became his first published novel.
J.K. Franko now lives with his wife and children in Florida.

Catch Up With JK Franko On:
jkfranko.com, Goodreads, Instagram, Bookbub, Twitter, & Facebook!




Enter To Win!:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for JK Franko. There will be Six (6) winners for this tour. Two (2) winners will each receive a $10. Amazon GC. Two (2) winners will each receive LIFE FOR LIFE by JK Franko (Print ~ US and Canada Only) and Two (2) winners will each receive LIFE FOR LIFE by JK Franko (eBook). The giveaway begins on August 1, 2020 and runs through October 2, 2020. Void where prohibited.



Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

 

A Highlander is Coming to Town by Laura Trentham (Highland, Georgia #3)

A Highlander is Coming to Town
by Laura Trentham

My rating: 4 stars

Series: Highland, Georgia - Book 3
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks (September 29, 2020)
Publication Date: September 29, 2020
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Available from: Amazon | Barnes & Noble

You better watch out. . .

Holt Pierson is dreading Christmas. His parents absconded to Florida for the season and left him to handle the family farm which will be his one day—whether he wants it or not. Driven by duty, Holt has always followed the path expected of him. But lately, he’s been questioning what he wants and where he belongs. Will assuming the responsibility of the Pierson farm make him happy or is there something—or someone—else out in the wider world calling to him?

To Claire Smythe, the Scottish lead singer of a touring band, Highland, Georgia, is the perfect place to hide . . .until a very handsome and deeply curious Holt begins to ask all the questions Claire doesn’t want to answer. As Holt draws Claire out from under and into the fabric of small-town life, can Claire put the past behind her and embrace the unexpected gifts of the season—including the new and lasting love?
A Highlander is Coming to Town by Laura Trentham
(Highland, Georgia #3)

A Highlander is Coming to Town (Highland, Georgia #3)A fun, light, romantic comedy, Laura Trentham’s A HIGHLANDER IS COMING TO TOWN takes the holiday theme, a small town with quirky residents and two people, seemingly opposites and stirs up a delightful and quick read to cozy up with.

Holt is kind, caring and one of those people who does what is expected of them and sometimes it may not mesh with what HE wants to do. Claire is the lead singer in a Scottish band who is hiding out in Highland, holding on tight to many, many secrets. Too bad Holt is determined to discover the prickly woman’s secrets and won’t let up. Layer by layer he breaks her down and once again, Cupid saves the day, because the heart wants what the heart wants.

Claire was a tough character to like at first while Holt had me from page one. As the story unfolds, I found myself smiling more and more, which made this a great escape for a couple of hours!

I received a complimentary ARC edition from St. Martin's Paperbacks! This is my honest and voluntary review.

Burning for More by Kaye Kennedy Blitz and #Giveaway


Burning for More
Kaye Kennedy
Publication date: August 5th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
They seem destined to be, but could easily crash and burn.
Dylan
His past made him notoriously reckless and, as a New York City fireman, that could prove fatal. After barely escaping a burning building with a victim, Autumn’s beautiful face was the last thing he expected to see, and their instant connection intrigued but terrified him.
Around her, he felt alive for the first time in over a decade. If he wanted to learn how to love again though, he’d have to let go of his past, and that was much easier said than done.
Autumn
She was still licking her wounds from her previous relationship when Dylan Hogan crashed into her life, doing things to her heart (and her body) that she never thought possible. He made her feel like the person she always wanted to be, though she feared he’d run if he knew the truth.
She had to let him go before her past destroyed them both, but she didn’t want to extinguish their fire. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?
Dylan might be the savior that Autumn never knew she needed, but first she’d have to save him from himself.
Find out if love can conquer all in this sexy romance with a twist that’ll take your breath away!
EXCERPT:
“I’ve been watching you walk around in this skirt all afternoon, and I’ve been craving to know what’s underneath it.”
I allowed my thighs to fall apart, giving him better access. “Why don’t you go ahead and find out?” I whispered into his lips.
His lips crashed against mine, not gentle like before. This time he was telling me just how much more he wanted, and I was so ready to give it to him. He sucked on my lips with such intensity, it felt as though I would become a part of him. His tongue darted into my mouth, in search of my own, and there was a gushing between my legs in response. He kissed me like I was his lifeline, pulling him to safety from the wide-open sea. My heart exploded at the thought. I didn’t just want this man. I needed him. With every fiber of my being, I needed him.


Author Bio:
Kaye Kennedy is a CEO by day and a romance novelist by night! She earned her degree in English Literature and taught college composition & literature classes before switching gears entirely and becoming an entrepreneur, starting three businesses. She writes steamy contemporary romances because who doesn't love love?
Kaye lives in Florida with her hunk of a husband who often inspires her characters. Her real-life love story was love at first sight, and she adores reliving that excitement when writing her novels. In Kaye's stories, you can always expect a happily ever after that kisses and tells.

XBTBanner1

Awakened by Him by Eyta Jade Blitz and #Giveaway


Awakened by Him
Eyta Jade
(Zinklaus Duet, #1)
Publication date: August 6th 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
Falling into him was a dance with destiny; little did she know it would be her unravelling.

Zina at 24 and fresh out of the academic world, arrives in London for a new paralegal job. She is thrown for a loop when her chance at something new and uncomplicated is threatened from the moment she meets business magnate, Niklaus Clarke.
He wants more from her than she’s willing to give, because giving him more means undoing her past which she’s been running from. Unable to resist the undeniable attraction she feels or the allure of the unyielding billionaire who didn’t get to where he is by giving up, Zina surrenders.
What should have been a mere awakening turns into blurred lines and shattering of boundaries. Until their secrets, lies and half-truths threaten the gravity that pulls them toward each other.
Bridges will be crossed, bridges will be burnt. But, will bridges be rebuilt?
EXCERPT:
“Open,” Niklaus said.
So bossy, I thought.
We were on his couch, facing each other as he attempted to feed me comfort food. A.K.A. Haagen-Dazs caramel cone.
“Why do you have to feed me?” I argued, finding solace in a possible banter to distract me from my solemn mood.
He heaved a sigh, looking at me intently without lowering the spoon of ice cream from where it was—in front of my mouth. “My sweet baby, you are sad and won’t tell me why.” His lips spread in a thin, but small sad smile. “But, this I can do for you. Let me take care of you. Let me feed you.”
Tears stung my eyes as I struggled with my emotions. Such simple words evoked powerful feelings in me. All he wanted was to do something nice for me, and yet I remained difficult. So I opened for him, letting him feed me to his satisfaction. I watched his eyes lit up every time I opened for another spoon.
The fact that he took so much pleasure in doing something so mundane was everything—the simple things. My heart was in trouble and at that moment, I didn’t care.
When he was done pleasuring me with the taste of rich caramel swirl that only Haagen-Dazs could deliver, he sprawled into the arm of the sofa.
“Come.” He said, opening his arms to welcome me. And, like a dog hungry for affection, I turned, reclining into him and laying my body on his chest.
His arms wrapped around me instantly, and I closed my eyes.
I felt safe and at home in his arms. Ashraf and his parents had taken me in when I was homeless; my brother had come into my life around when the well, awkward night with Ashraf happened, and we grew apart for a few months. He’d come in and filled a hole created by temporary emotional separation from Ashraf.
But the feeling of safety I felt in the arms of Niklaus was different. He wasn’t filling any vacant space. It was like he’d always had a place in my heart, waiting for him to step in and take his place. I’d never felt more at peace, so wanted, so cherished, and all he had to do was feed me ice cream and wrap his arms around me.
Am I falling for him? I wondered. I physically shook my head, wading off the idea, but not before he noticed.
“What?” he asked.
I couldn’t very well tell him my heart was wondering if I was falling for him, but that same heart was convinced the answer was negative.
So, I said instead, ‘tell me something about you.”
He chuckled, the slight shaking of his body as he did so warming me all over. “Am I supposed to believe you haven’t used the school of Google to do your private investigation on me?”
“Would most of what I find there tell me anything real about you?” I challenged.
“No,” he confirmed with a certain resentment.
I shrugged. “Moreover, I haven’t stalked you. I don’t do social media or track people on the internet.” I explained.
There was the exception of the night at his parents, but those were for professional reasons directed at his father, and didn’t count.
His arms tightened around me like he couldn’t get enough of me. “You, doux bebe are one of a kind.”
I smiled. It was nice to hear that someone saw me as a unique being. But, the gag was—he was truly the special one.
He’d awakened me, and he apparently had the power to make me feel safe and distract me.
“I’ll start. I’ve always wanted a dog, and I will get one soon.”
“Hmmm…I think when I was young, I did too. But, somewhere along the way, I forgot.”
I laughed. “Your turn.”
“I just told you I wanted a dog too. That was my something.”
I laughed some more at his manipulative and creative way of deflecting.
If I was terrible at revealing things about myself, he was impossible.
We were a match made in heaven. But what would that mean for us in the long term?
The fact that I was thinking of the future, despite insisting that we were just fuck buddies told me one thing—even if I was unable to admit that I might have been falling for him, what I knew for sure was that I was in trouble. My heart was in trouble.


Author Bio:
When Eyta Jade read Danielle Steele’s full circle, a dream was born. A dream to evoke the kind of emotions that reading Full Circle did for her.
Eyta knew that no matter what or how long it took, she would always find her way to becoming an author.
When Eyta isn’t penning down tastefully written steamy romance stories, you’d find her reading one instead.
Lest we forget, she obsesses over wine, soul and RnB music.

XBTBanner1