Archive for April 29, 2014

New Releases

Hey crew!!!

new releasesBe sure to click on our new releases tab or the link below. There are some amazeballs reads to one-click.  You might even get a callous from all the one-clicking 😉 Be sure to check back weekly for updates. We’d hate for you to lose agility in your one click finger!!!!

http://www.flirtyanddirtybookblog.com/new-releases-2/

BEAUTIFUL INK by Nicole Reed~ Release Day!!!

Beautiful Ink Banner - Available Now

Synopsis

This novel is not a cliffhanger and can be read as a stand-alone.

WARNING: This book is real, beautifully raw, and not for the faint of heart. It is the story of a young girl’s loss of innocence while growing up around a motorcycle club. It is not suitable for children under the age of seventeen due to language, sexual content, and intense subject matter. Based on true events.

Family.

I have tattooed that single word on more skin than I care to count. It elicits powerful thoughts and emotions for most people.

Loving. Caring.
Supportive. Togetherness.
Forever.

But not for me. The word family means so much more.

Vicious. Harmful.
Dangerous. Corrupt.
Deadly.

You can’t run forever from the ones who love you.

Buy Now

Beautiful Ink Cover

Click here to download to your Kindle Device

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Teaser

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BI Teaser 5

MeetTheAuthor

Nicole Author Pic

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Nicole Reed is the New York Times Bestselling Author of Ruining You. She is a true Southern girl, enjoying life with her husband and three children in the peachy state of Georgia. As a child, she discovered another world between the pages of a book. In 2012, she self-published her first bookRuining Me, and then followed it with Ruining You, Cake, and Wasted Heart. Her books have also been listed on the overall Top 100 Amazon and Barnes & Noble Bestselling list. She is represented by Ginger Clark with Curtis Brown, LTD. You can follow her on Facebookwww.facebook.com/authornicolereed, Twitter @nicole1reed, and her websitewww.nicolereedbooks.com.

 

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BEAUTIFUL INK by Nicole Reed ~ Cover Reveal

Hey crew,

I can’t tell you how excited I am for y’all to read this book. Nicole Reed is one of my absolute favourite authors. She writes with incredible heart. Be sure to mark this one on your TBR!!! Check out this fabulous cover!!!

Beautiful Ink Cover

Synopsis

This novel is not a cliffhanger and can be read as a stand-alone.

WARNING: This book is real, beautifully raw, and not for the faint of heart. It is the story of a young girl’s loss of innocence while growing up around a motorcycle club. It is not suitable for children under the age of seventeen due to language, sexual content, and intense subject matter. Based on true events.

Family.

I have tattooed that single word on more skin than I care to count. It elicits powerful thoughts and emotions for most people.

Loving. Caring.
Supportive. Togetherness.
Forever.

But not for me. The word family means so much more.

Vicious. Harmful.
Dangerous. Corrupt.
Deadly.

You can’t run forever from the ones who love you.

Teaser

BI Cover Reveal Teaser 1

BI Cover Reveal Teaser 2

MeetTheAuthor

Nicole Author Pic

GOODREADSFACEBOOKTWITTERAMAZONWEBSITE

Nicole Reed is the New York Times Bestselling Author of Ruining You. She is a true Southern girl, enjoying life with her husband and three children in the peachy state of Georgia. As a child, she discovered another world between the pages of a book. In 2012, she self-published her first bookRuining Me, and then followed it with Ruining You, Cake, and Wasted Heart. Her books have also been listed on the overall Top 100 Amazon and Barnes & Noble Bestselling list. She is represented by Ginger Clark with Curtis Brown, LTD. You can follow her on Facebookwww.facebook.com/authornicolereed, Twitter @nicole1reed, and her websitewww.nicolereedbooks.com.

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MUD VEIN by Tarryn Fisher~ Review, Interview & Giveaway!!!

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Flirty and Dirty had the awesomesauce chance to interview Tarryn Fisher.  Check out our Q & A with her. I loved getting a tiny sneak peek into her world.  Also be sure to check out my review of Mud Vein. Wow!!! What a read!!! Oh yeah, be sure to enter the fantastic giveaway!!! Be on the look out April 27th, when you can join in a chat with the ever intriguing Tarryn Fisher!!!

Mud Vein Cover

SYNOPSIS:

When reclusive novelist Senna Richards wakes up on her thirty-third birthday, everything has changed. Caged behind an electrical fence, locked in a house in the middle of the snow, Senna is left to decode the clues to find out why she was taken. If she wants her freedom, she has to take a close look at her past. But, her past has a heartbeat…and her kidnapper is nowhere to be found. With her survival hanging by a thread, Senna soon realizes this is a game. A dangerous one. Only the truth can set her free.

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18246727-mud-vein

BUY LNKS:
AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | iBOOKS

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TEASER:

You don’t have to be alone. We are mostly born that way, though. We grow up being nurtured to believe that the other half of our soul is somewhere out there.  And since there are six billion people inhabiting our planet, chances are one of them is for you. To find that person, to find your soul piece, or your great love we must count on our paths diverging, the tangling of lives, the soft whispering of one soul recognizing another.

I found my piece. She wasn’t what I was expecting. If you formed a woman’s soul out of black graphite, bathed it in blood, and then rolled it around in the softest rose petals, you still wouldn’t have touched on the complication that was, my match.

REVIEW:  Mud VeinMud Vein by Tarryn Fisher

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Such a difficult review to write…

STOP! If you’re looking for a book to delve into your wildest fantasy and escape, forget reading my review. Forget reading Mud Vein (although I would implore you to open up your literary mind, don’t be so partisan, so common.)
There are no alpha millionaires, rock gods, wishy-washy pretty young things. There is no fucking, multiple orgasms, big dick you’ve never seen the likes of such a size. None. Of. That.
Be sober when you read this, be ready to absorb and accept the thoughts and questions which will undoubtedly come to mind. Be naked, stripped bare in your thinking, not precise but attentive.
There are two ways Mud Vein will be read by people—literally and emotionally. Those that read it with literal tendency will see a story and think, “ok not bad” and take it at face value—the crap that Senna had to deal with along with some other weird recluse type stuff.
Those that read it with an emotional component will see the layers and complexities of the representations and symbolism. Senna, Isaac, and the events that happen are beyond literal. Without the emotional, the cerebral component, you won’t piece together the words on the pages of Mud Vein. Go beyond that of the actual words, feel them, and you will understand.
When I finished Mud Vein, I stopped to think about the questions I had swirling around my head—it wouldn’t be a Tarryn Fisher book otherwise. Many of my questions came back with answers that reveal the strength of a woman. It reveals the control a woman needs to garner that strength. As women we are extremely resilient and strong by nature but somewhere, I don’t know where it comes from we need our validation to come from the love of a partner. Maybe it’s not just women but men alike. Although somehow I think it is more inherent in women. Hence why we often are the primary caregivers—the givers rather than the takers. This point could be argued and debated until the end of time.

True to Tarryn Fisher style, the story was slightly convoluted yet amazingly poetic. It is one of those reads that will spur conversations at the mere mention of the title. It’s a story that each reader will come away with something different and no one is more right than the other.

As with any book there were things that didn’t make sense or seemed like a step was missing—how come they didn’t burn the table too? (I can’t give spoilers but when you read you’ll probably ask the same question.) – did Nick really not question her more when they were together? And really he wouldn’t take her home to change to meet his parents? And maybe it’s just me but I honestly don’t think that after the ‘incident’ she would allow anyone into her home. But that’s just me.

I loved the parallels between white and all the colours. The analogies of the senses was stunning. What I loved most about Mud Vein was Tarryn’s ability to question human nature—our motivation and our disincentive. And no matter how strong, independent or resilient we are, male or female, there are things about love that will weaken us no matter how much we try to ignore it.
Senna and Isaac’s relationship was such a paradox– it was tethered like that of an anchor to a ship, yet it was frayed as if they hung from a rope over the side of a cliff and the rope kept swinging against the jagged rock ready to snap with its last thread. It was tragically stunning in it’s evolution and maybe a love that more of us experience than we actually realize.
A review for Mud Vein is incredibly difficult to write without spoilers because of the nature of the story. I will say Tarryn Fisher kept you questioning every turn of the page. I appreciate and love that she takes risks with her writing. Do I always understand it? Nope. But I enjoy trying to figure out why she writes the words she does. The ending? Ends the way it should given the events throughout the story. Many will hate it. Regardless, you have to appreciate the effort of it. I almost felt let down by the end of the story because of the emotional capital I had to pay throughout the characters journey and story. It was a heavy price to pay. Was it worth it? I don’t know. I do know that I wanted to read every word and had I read it via paperback, my hands and fingers would have molested every page to get more from the story than just the words.
Although I’m depleted from reading it Mud Vein gets 5/5

View all my reviews

 

Tarryn Fisher Author PicINTERVIEW:

1. I have to ask some questions I’m sure all your readers are wondering… How did you come up with Mud Vein and its characters?

I based Senna on women as a whole. The things that change her are the things that kill us, steal from us, destroy us. Isaac is a portrait of God.

2. What sets your writing apart from others?

I guess you’d have to ask the readers that. I feel as if I’m not merely a writer. I am an artist. I incorporate colors, and texture, and my soul into everything I write. I don’t just want to tell a story. I bleed it.

3. What motivates you to write and where do you see your writing in the next few years?

Really it’s just in me. I become a very mean and sour person when I’m not writing. I don’t think I need motivation, I write because I feel as if I’ll die if I don’t.

4. How do you manage to not get jaded or discouraged in a competitive and sometimes ugly industry?

oh god. Let’s talk about this for a minute, because you’re right to point it out. I’m confident. I’m not writing for other people. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of my art. If you believe in what you do, you won’t feel threatened by others. I wish with all my heart women didn’t feel the need to attack each other. Just wash out your freaking heart and love one another, you know?

5. Are there any story boundaries you would like to push or any other genres you would like to write?

I’m writing a YA. I expect to lose a lot of readers that don’t want to cross over with me. But if they stick around I’ll be back. I don’t do any one thing for too long.

6. Are you currently working on anything?

yes. A ten year project. This year I’ll write it again for the fourth time, and I’ll get it right.

7. What do you want to be when you grow up?

A lesbian. I wish I could. Men are so annoying.

8. And it wouldn’t be a Flirty and Dirty interview if I didn’t ask… Tell us one flirty thing and one dirty thing about you.

I have tattoos underneath my pantyline. I like porn.

BIO:  

I am a real life villain, truly. I drink sick amounts of Starbucks. Most of the time my hair smells like coffee. I was born in South Africa, and lived there for most of my childhood. I moved to Seattle just for the rain. Rome is my favorite place in the world so far, Paris comes in at a close second. I read and write more than I sleep. When I was eleven, I wrote an entire novel about runaway orphans, using only purple ink. I am addicted to Florence and the Machine and will travel to see concerts. I love scary movies and giraffes. I spend way too much time on Facebook. Meet you there?…

Social Links:

FACEBOOK | TWITTER | WEBSITE

GIVEAWAY!!! (Two of them)

• 3 signed paperback copies of MUD VEIN
• 2 – $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Cards (winners choice)
• 1 – Love Me With Lies bracelet

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GRANDPRIZE: Tarryn is also giving away a grandprize experience – win a date with Tarryn. This giveaway will run throughout April and winner to be announced at Tarryn’s FAN CHAT

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fanchatbanner3dFan Chat Event

April 27th from 8-10pm EST

Facebook Event Link: https://www.facebook.com/events/694161840643799/

BEAUTIFUL INK by Nicole Reed ~ Synopsis Reveal

Beautiful Ink releases  in two days!!!! Check out the synopsis. Can’t wait for y’all to read this one. It just may be her best yet.
Beautiful Ink Banner

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Synopsis

This novel is not a cliffhanger and can be read as a stand-alone.

WARNING: This book is real, beautifully raw, and not for the faint of heart. It is the story of a young girl’s loss of innocence while growing up around a motorcycle club. It is not suitable for children under the age of seventeen due to language, sexual content, and intense subject matter. Based on true events.

 

Family.

I have tattooed that single word on more skin than I care to count. It elicits powerful thoughts and emotions for most people.

Loving. Caring.
Supportive. Togetherness.
Forever.

But not for me. The word family means so much more.

Vicious. Harmful.
Dangerous. Corrupt.
Deadly.

You can’t run forever from the ones who love you.

image (33)

 

Teaser

BI Synopsis Reveal Teaser 2

BI Syonpsis Reveal Teaser 1

MeetTheAuthor

Nicole Author Pic

GOODREADSFACEBOOKTWITTERAMAZONWEBSITE

Nicole Reed is the New York Times Bestselling Author of Ruining You. She is a true Southern girl, enjoying life with her husband and three children in the peachy state of Georgia. As a child, she discovered another world between the pages of a book. In 2012, she self-published her first bookRuining Me, and then followed it with Ruining You, Cake, and Wasted Heart. Her books have also been listed on the overall Top 100 Amazon and Barnes & Noble Bestselling list. She is represented by Ginger Clark with Curtis Brown, LTD. You can follow her on Facebookwww.facebook.com/authornicolereed, Twitter @nicole1reed, and her websitewww.nicolereedbooks.com.

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Of Happiness by Olivia Luck ~Cover Reveal~

ofHappiness

Title: Of Happiness

Author: Olivia Luck

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: May 20, 2014

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Synopsis

“Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.” Edith Neff relocated to Chicago to capture her own piece of happiness. Now bombarded with more change than she knows how to manage, Eddie struggles to pick of the pieces of her torn heart and decimated friendship. Standing in the middle of a sidewalk while her (ex?) boyfriend Harris Grant pleads for forgiveness, Eddie’s at a loss what to do next. So when her estranged father provides a lifeline – she has no option than to take his offer. But Harris won’t let Eddie go without a fight. He’ll use whatever tactics necessary to win back his girl. While Eddie and Harris find their way back together, darkness lurks, unwilling to relent on destroying their relationship. Permanently.

About The Author

olivia pic

Olivia Luck lives in the middle of America with her loving husband and her obsession with writing. She wrote her first romance novel at age eight. When she’s not reading, editing, or writing, you can find her in the kitchen learning to cook. Olivia loves to travel and spend time with her family.

 

Get in touch with Olivia, she adores emails: olivialuckauthor@gmail.com

 

And if you’re on social media, you can find her there too:

 

Facebook | Twitter |Goodreads |Blog

Excerpt

 

An inexplicable shiver rolls through my shoulders. The low murmur of my friends and the other patrons at Rusty’s falls away.

Harris.

He’s the only person who elicits this type of bodily response. I remain rigid and unmoving except for my sweaty palms which I place on my thighs.

“Luke, my man! How are you?” A strong hand slaps Luke’s shoulder.

“Matt, hey.” His worried expression eases into a cheerful one when he shakes hands with a man wearing a large, black boot cast. Next to Matt is the beautiful, caramel-haired woman, Jane, who was with Harris in his convertible.

And then it’s him.

Harris’ masculine scent surrounds me. He braces his arms on the back of my chair, overwhelming me with his physical presence. I’m swirling in a sea of Harris, unable to resist his pull. He dips closer and then his lips brush oh so gently against my flushed cheek. The intimate contact sends my heart into overdrive.

“Hello, Edith,” he murmurs against my skin before pulling away.

I nearly swoon against the wood chair. Damn.

 

Buy The Book

In Pursuit Cover

Amazon | Amazon UK | Barnes And Noble |

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Synopsis

Eddie Neff needs space. Not the type that country stars croon about, but physical distance from her emotionally distant father and the tatters of a broken relationship. So when the opportunity to relocate her life and interior design business arises, the answer comes easily.

Adjusting to life with Claire, her gregarious new roommate, is more than simply testing comfort limits. With just one meeting, Eddie finds herself unable to resist the draw of Harris Grant, Claire’s brooding and overprotective older brother.

Harris doesn’t fit her idea of a safe relationship. He pushes Eddie to face her deepest insecurities and fears of abandonment. And Harris holds on to his own painful loss, unable to overcome personal demons.

Eddie and Harris must learn to conquer their internal struggles. But as they navigate their new love, outside forces fight to drive them apart.

Author note: In Pursuit is the first book in a two book series. Intended for 18+ readers.

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CONVINCING CONSTANCE by Tabatha Vargo~ Release Day and Giveaway!!!

Convincing Constance by Tabatha Vargo is live!!!

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Constance-ebooklgSYNOPSIS:

As the only survivor of a tragic accident, Tony Russell, aka Tiny, is mentally and physically scarred for life. Years later, he finds himself addicted to the gym and prescription drugs. Relationships and sex are the furthest thing from his mind, but when a replacement guitarist steps in for his band Blow Hole, Tony can’t help his physical reaction to her. She’s a spicy rocker with pink highlights and a scorching attitude, and she’s exactly what he needs…regardless of how badly he refuses to believe it.

Constance McClaire knows all about addiction. After growing up with a junky for a mother, she refuses to have anything to do with that life…until she meets the brooding, giant bass player for Blow Hole. He doesn’t take her shit, has sexy tattoos, and very large hands—but he’s clearly an addict and desperately needs help. Getting close to Tony without allowing herself to become emotionally attached is harder than she thought it would be. Addiction is addiction, no matter what it is swimming in your veins, and Constance finds its Tony she can’t get enough of.

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21521022-convincing-constance?from_search=true

BUY LINKS:
AMAZON

ConvincingConstanceCoverExcerpt…

Turned out Gary Steele from Music Line did have a job for me. I almost lost my shit when he said Blow Hole was looking for a replacement guitarist to finish their tour with them. Fucking Blow Hole! As in some of my favorite music to play.

I knew the chords to their songs better than any other band. I liked their sound and I’d always been able to pick up their pace right away. I could hardly believe my luck. So when he told me they wanted me to come to their condo in Los Angeles to audition, I was all over that shit.

I called Shay to bring me some gas money, told her why I needed it, listened to her scream on the other line, and then I drove entirely too fast to the address Gary gave me. I pulled up around the corner and changed my clothes in the backseat of my car before going inside the massive building the boys lived in.

When I finally made it to the top floor, I stood in front of the door and convinced myself that ringing the doorbell was the best thing I could do no matter how badly my nerves were jumping around. I’d never auditioned before since I’d never played for any other reason than I loved it, and I couldn’t lie. I was scared.

When I finally worked up the nerve, I reached out and rang the doorbell. I stood there waiting for someone to answer the door, but no one came. I rang the bell once more, and the door opened quickly.

“Can I help you?” It was Finn, the lead singer.

Everyone who loved music knew who Finn was. His voice was soulful. When he sang, he put so much emotion behind it you could almost believe he was living his lyrics. He was raspy and deep, and I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive.

He was taller in person, and honestly, I expected more muscles, but that didn’t take away from his eyes or those lips that girls seemed to get wet over. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. A black shirt with cut-off sleeves covered his chest yet revealed his tatted arms, and a pair of drawstring sweats hung from his hips with loose ties that brought my eyes to his crotch.

Quickly, I looked back up at him and my cheeks turned red when his expression told me he’d caught me looking. Turning away, I adjusted my guitar case and shook the thoughts from my head. I wasn’t one to get star struck… ever, but Finn was the real deal.

Looking back up at him, the question in his eyes told me I needed to speak or he was going to close the door in my face.

“I’m here for the audition.” My voice cracked and I wanted to slap myself.

I needed to snap out of it.

I adjusted the guitar strap on my shoulder to show him I wasn’t messing around.

“You’re kidding, right?” His right brow popped up in challenge.

I didn’t have time for the whole females can’t play bullshit I knew was coming. So I went in for the kill.

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Is the word jokester tattooed across my forehead? Yes, I’m a chick. I have tits and a clit, but I have bigger balls than any man you know, and I can play the fuck out of a guitar. Now are you going to keep wasting my time, or are you going to invite me in to play?”

His mouth popped open in a wide, shocked smile. Then he chuckled to himself and stepped aside.

“Then by all means, come in.”

The space was sleek and clean considering it was the home of a bunch of rockers. Abstract red-and-black paintings of different instruments covered white walls, and the place smelled like pot and beer.

The place was huge. I followed behind Finn through three sets of doors until we were in a sitting room, and then I set my guitar case on the counter that split the living room from the kitchen.

 A white, leather sectional filled the room. Eyes stared back at me as I entered behind Finn and instantly I recognized the drummer, Chet, and the bass player, Tiny. Finn left the room, leaving me in a silent uncomfortable moment.

Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, I kept my bitch face on. Chet grinned at me from across the room and nodded at me as he licked his lips. His tongue piercing clicked against his teeth. He was the colorful one of the group. Tattoos and piercings everywhere. I did, however, seriously dig his fauxhawk.

I’d been looking at him too long, and he was enjoying the attention. He was definitely the playboy of the group. I’d heard the rumors about him and how he stuck his cock in anything wet. I rolled my eyes and turned my head, and then my eyes connected with the bass player’s.

Tiny’s name was a joke considering there was nothing small about the man. He was huge. His thick tattooed arms were crossed. A look of absolutely no tolerance was plastered on his face. Quiet and mysterious was his game. Every band had one, and I usually dealt best with them, but something about the way he looked at me made me feel nervous.

His dark-brown hair was buzzed short and faded into a set a sideburns that melted into his light mustache and goatee. My eyes shifted to his lips and again, I wanted to slap myself. It was unlike me to even notice the things I’d noticed since I stepped into the den of sin, also known as the home of Blow Hole, and I wasn’t about to let the disgusting pheromones that lingered in the air get to me.

Tiny’s dark, angry eyes dug into mine and I suddenly felt exposed. I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair to make sure I had no strays poking out, and then I turned away from him. Even without looking at him, I could feel his gaze in the side of my face. I didn’t like it.

Just when I was close to telling him off, Finn came back into the room and crashed onto the couch. Behind him, Zeke, the lead guitarist, came limping in. A cast covered his picking hand and instantly I felt for him. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not be able to play. He looked at me in confusion as he sat down.

As far as I was concerned, Zeke was one of the best guitarists I’d ever heard. His technique was unusual, but the sounds that came from his strings were amazing. I’d practiced his sound since the first time I’d heard them play on the radio. I’d once see them from afar in concert at a bar in Los Angeles, but the boys were playing bigger venues these days.

“So where’s the replacement guitarist? Zeke asked in aggravation.

The room filled with laughter like I was a joke, and it pissed me off. I stood and crossed my arms to show them I wasn’t dicking around.

“That would be me,” I said sternly.

Zeke looked me up and down without a drop of sexual awareness in his gaze, and I appreciated the fact that he was simply sizing me up, not checking me out. It probably had something to do with the petite blond that had followed him into the room.

“Is that so?” he asked.

He was acting cocky, and honestly, he had every right to be.

“Yep. Want me to play or what?” I asked.

Everything depended on this job and while I knew some would call me stupid for being such a bitch, I knew the boys would appreciate it. I’d been a part of their world before. I knew all about the girls that chased rockers around with their legs open. I was sure it was refreshing to have a woman in their presence who didn’t drool all over them. I’d definitely checked them out, but I wasn’t the drooling type. Not to mention, I knew band boys weren’t for me—at all.

Zeke looked around the room at the rest of the guys. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked.

Again, the boys burst out in laughter, which did nothing but make me madder.

“It’s not a fucking joke. Quit being a chauvinistic asshole. Either you want me to fucking play or not. Say something and quit wasting my goddamn time,” I snapped.

His stern expression cracked into an appreciative smile. “Then play,” he said with a careless shrug.

Stepping over to my guitar case, I flipped it open and pulled out my baby. It was a candy apple-red Les Paul from my dad. I barely played it, but I thought of this audition as a special occasion. The boys of Blow Hole didn’t need to see my normal guitar.

I strapped it on, took a deep breath, and began to play. My fingers dug into the strings and I closed my eyes and let go of everything. Rips and grinds filled the condo, bouncing off the walls and shaking the windows. I mimicked Zeke’s playing perfectly. I even ripped through his unique chords that other guitarist seemed to have a hard time with.

I played an entire song and no one stopped me. When I was done, I unhooked my strap and set my guitar back in its case. The room around me was silent, and when I looked up, looks of shock stared back at me.

The only girl in the room, the tiny blonde with ice-blue eyes, began to clap.

“That was amazing!” she said with a smile.

I nodded at her compliment and turned my attention back to Zeke. He stared at me with angry eyes. That was his thing. I don’t think I’d ever seen a real smile from him ever.

“What did you say your name was again?” he asked.

“I didn’t. No one bothered to ask. My name’s Constance,” I responded.

He looked around the room and then back at me. The side of his mouth lifted in an almost grin. “Well, Constance, welcome to Blow Hole.”

 

BlitzpromoBlow Hole Lyrics

“The Addict”

The addiction you bring

It’s more than I can stand

Feeling your soulful depth

Why can’t you understand?

Bound by sick desires

Reaching for your sin

Body breathing fire

And I can’t let you in

Chorus:

Drugs don’t fail me now

For she’s forever gone

Despising all her strength

Against all that I’ve done wrong

Numb my aching heart

I’ll never be brand new

Finding who I am

In the high that comes from you

 

I’m addicted to your smile

Withdrawals and frowns are me

Knocked down and I am vile

While you’re forever free

Needing you right here

Jonesing for a dose

Panic turns to fear

Longing for your ghost

Chorus:

Drugs don’t fail me now

For she’s forever gone

Despising her strength

Against all that I’ve done wrong

Numb my aching heart

I’ll never be brand new

Finding who I am

In the high that comes from you

Social Media Links:

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SICK DAY by Morgan Parker~ Teaser and Release Info

What if you only had one day to convince someone they are your one true love?

Sick Day cover

brick synopsisHope and Cameron made a five-year promise before college. Years pass and they never see each other again. But then one month before his planned wedding to Riley, Cameron looks outside and sees Hope in the pouring rain, watching him.

Now, three years later, Cam has one day – a sick day on this last Friday of summer – to convince the one woman whose very existence breaths life into his lungs, that sometimes love like theirs actually does exist, and it’s that kind of love that lives forever, no matter how hard you fight to forget about it and move on.

From the author of non friction and Hope, Sick Day follows one man’s day-long attempt to persuade the love of his life that sometimes it’s okay to break promises if it means keeping the ones that count.

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Click cover to download to your Kindle or Kindle App Device

**Sick Day can be read as a stand alone. However, Non Friction and Hope have some story elements tied to Sick Day. If you have not read Non Friction or Hope,  Sick Day’s story will not be affected in any way.

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Buy Non Friction and Hope on Amazon ~

Non Friction:  http://amzn.to/1jHLl4m

Hope: http://amzn.to/1hjBHbK

 

 

brick bio

Morgan Parker is the pen name for a shy and introverted former banker. Because he could never balance his cash at the end of the banking day, he made up stories in order to keep his job. None of those stories was Textual Encounters, which is great because readers will discover a truly unique and original romance that has never been told before.

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The Regret Series by A.L. Jackson ~Cover Reveal and Box Set Release & Sale~

Check out the stunning new covers to the New York Times bestselling novels, The Regret Series by A.L. Jackson. Regina Wamba of Mae I Design has given them a fresh new look and to celebrate, the entire series is now available as a bundled set for a limited-time sale of $1.99! Grab your copies now or gift them to a friend!

Lost to You - NEW

Lost to You

The prequel to the bestselling romance, Take This Regret.

People come into our lives. Some stay, and many go. Some build us up, while most tear us down. They become our friends, our enemies, our lovers, our tormentors.

Christian Davison came into mine, and I knew I’d never be the same.

To Elizabeth Ayers, New York City had always been a dream. She’s worked her entire young life to make it here.

Groomed to one day take over his father’s law firm, attending Columbia University was Christian Davison’s only option.

Neither wanted anything more until they sat across from each other at a café table after being paired as study partners.

Christian wants her, but Elizabeth knows better than to give into their intense attraction. Yet there is little she can do to stay away.

Take This Regret - NEW

Take This Regret

There are some mistakes we make that we will regret for the rest of our lives.

For Christian Davison, it was the day he betrayed Elizabeth Ayers.

For five years, Christian has regretted the day he walked away from his family and will do anything to win them back.

Can Elizabeth forgive someone who has committed the unforgiveable? Or are there some wounds that go so deep they can never heal?

If Forever Comes - NEW

If Forever Comes

If Forever Comes, the final chapter in the New York Times Bestselling novels, The Regret Series.

Christian Davison’s life is complete. With a ring on Elizabeth’s finger and his daughter at his side, he’s ready to run headlong into their future.

Elizabeth Ayers never believed she would again find this kind of joy—the joy of a family and the wholeness found in the touch of the man she’s always loved.

Their love is intense and their passion only grows as they set out to rediscover each other.

But life is never easy.

Rocked by the unforeseen, Christian and Elizabeth will find themselves fighting for the one thing they hold most important—family.

Reading Order and Purchase Links

Lost to You - NEW Take This Regret - NEW If Forever Comes - NEW

regret series sale

Lost to You: Amazon
| Barnes & Noble | iTunes
Take This Regret: Amazon
| Barnes & Noble | iTunes
If Forever Comes: Amazon
| Barnes & Noble | iTunes
NEW Bundled Set ($1.99): Amazon

About A.L. Jackson

IMG_0618TUA.L. Jackson is the New York Times bestselling author of Take This Regret and Lost to You, as well as other contemporary romance titles, including Pulled and When We Collide.

She first found a love for writing during her days as a young mother and college student. She filled the journals she carried with short stories and poems used as an emotional outlet for the difficulties and joys she found in day-to-day life.

Years later, she shared a short story she’d been working on with her two closest friends and, with their encouragement, this story became her first full length novel. A.L. now spends her days writing in Southern Arizona where she lives with her husband and three children. Her favorite pastime is spending time with the ones she loves.

Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads

Don’t miss The Regret Series Box Set Release and Cover Reveal Giveaway!
Grand Prize ~ A.L. Jackson Prize Pack
Second Prize ~ $50.00 Amazon Gift Card
Third Prize ~ $25.00 Amazon Gift Card

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Sex.Love.Repeat by Alessandra Torre ~Only 99 pennies~

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Blurb:

I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that they are not alone in my heart.

They have accepted the situation. Stewart, because his life is too busy for the sort of obligations that are required in a relationship. Paul, because he loves me too much to tell me no. And because my sexual appetite is such that one man has trouble keeping up.

So we exist, two parallel relationships, each running their own course, with no need for intersection or conflict. It works for us, for them, and for me. I don’t expect it to be a long-term situation. I know there is an expiration date on the easy perfection of our lives.

I should have paid more attention, should have looked around and noticed the woman who watched it all. She sat in the background and waited, tried to figure me out. Saw my two relationships, the love between us, and the moment that it all fell apart.

She hates me.
I don’t even know she exists.
She loves them. I love them.
And they love me.

Everything else hangs in the balance.

~Buy Links~

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18627715-sex-love-repeat
Amazon Link: Sex Love Repeat on Amazon
B&N Link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sex-love-repeat-alessandra-torre/1117533404?ean=2940149090181
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sex-love-repeat
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/381374

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~Excerpt~

I step from the bedroom a half hour later, jeans and a tank top on, my wet hair twisted into a bun. I swing by the kitchen on my way out, waving a goodbye to Estelle and snagging a red apple and bottled water from the fridge.

I hop on Santa Monica Boulevard, moving through lanes of traffic with ease, my car knowing the route as well as my soul, my thoughts wandering as I drive. My Audi was a gift from Stewart, my twenty-ninth birthday present, probably picked out by his assistant. Regardless of who chose the vehicle, I love it. White exterior, blood red leather inside, it is sleek, sexy, and just begs every degenerate in my neighborhood to steal it. I am shocked it has survived for the last five months.

It’s fourteen miles between Stewart’s home and mine, but it might as well be different countries. Stewart lives in the fast-paced world of downtown Hollywood, rarely leaving the blocks of the city unless jetting off for work. He doesn’t own a plane, he doesn’t spend his money on much other than his home, his clothes, and me. He doesn’t have time to spend money, and doesn’t believe in purchasing things just because he can. He works a hundred hours a week, sleeps six hours a night, and fucks the hell out of me the rest of the time. His needs are minimum: food, sleep, and sex. I take care of one of those. Estelle and his bed take care of the rest.

I get off on Lincoln Boulevard, the road traffic lessening, frustrated drivers continuing their zip along the freeway, anxious to continue their painful life . I wish, for a brief moment, that I had put down the car’s top, needing the wind in my hair and the sound of the surf. Leaving Stewart’s, I sometimes need the wash of fresh air. A strong breeze to release the intensity he carries with him.

I pull off the road, turning down our street and press the garage release button, entering the dark space that is my spot and killing the ignition. I step out in dim light, the overhead burnt out, Paul promising for the last five months to get around to it.

The steps are worn concrete, this townhome complex built before developers knew what they had, before they realized that this close to the beach they shouldn’t build shit housing. Back before property values hit ridiculous figures, and a six-figure income still puts you in the projects, dodging street beggars and used needles. We don’t make six-figures. Paul brings in anywhere from fifty to sixty thousand surfing. And I bring in far less than that, running a bookstore that operates out of a bar on Venice beach. For California standards, it’s practically poverty, but we don’t need much. For Paul and I, we never did. We’re lucky to have this place, my stepfather blessing us with a rent payment low enough to both piss our neighbors off and ensure that we still can cover food and utilities.

We met at the Santa Monica pier, when we were side by side in the singles line for the rollercoaster. We had all of six minutes in line, the shuffle moving quickly, singles getting split up among the empty seats in a bored and orderly fashion.

He flashed a smile at me, and that was really all it took. Broad shoulders, tan skin that peeled a bit on his nose, blue eyes that looked like a fucking turquoise magic marker. He was in board shorts, a tee-shirt, and flip flops with muscular, track-free arms and no hint of tattoos. It was like God plucked an Abercrombie & Fitch model from the sky and injected him with testosterone and sexuality. I smiled back.

We spent those six minutes talking, our words spilling out between laughs and chemistry. I instantly liked him, had one of those at-peace realizations that ‘this is a good guy’. The type so good that women run over him, the type so good that he is often best-friended. But this guy? With his gorgeous looks and the I-will-fuck-you-in-this-line-right-now vibe? No woman was stupid enough to best-friend this man. I wanted him, right there in that line, my panties sticking to me in the best way possible beneath my short cotton skirt.

We reached the front, our moment of separation, but were seated together, two of us in one bench, a ridiculous, never-should-happen moment, and I took the minute before liftoff to reach over, tugging the back of his head, his wide smile and soft lips telling me that I wasn’t crazy, that he wanted this every bit as much as I did. And I knew, in that kiss, in that brief moment of hotness in which our mouths instantly knew every part of the other’s soul, that I would fuck him. The minute, the second, the ride finished. I needed him inside me, needed his hands to grip my waist, his shirt to move off that beautiful chest and my bare breasts to replace it. I needed every inch of him against and inside of me. Then the bar jerked down, and we separated with a laugh.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Just prepare for screams.” I grinned.

I was, and still am, a dramatic rider. I believe that there’s no point in doing something if you aren’t going to do it with all of your heart. I raised my arms, I screamed bloody murder, and he loved every minute of it. We swept through the loading bay after one cycle, the operator amping the riders up before pushing the button and letting us ride again.

The vibration of the seat underneath me, the closeness of pure sex beside me, the anticipation of what was to come… I attacked him the moment the ride ended, grabbing his hand and tugging him out, the pounding between my legs reaching a fever pitch. I ran, pulling him along with me, our bodies weaving around families, couples, giant stuffed snakes and dollar games of chance.

We broke from the crowd and moved faster, our flip flops slapping against the wood boardwalk, the tinny laugh of children vaguely registering in my head. I broke right when I saw the opening and jogged down sandy steps, glancing behind me to make sure he was there. He was, his eyes bright and curious, his steps right behind mine, keeping easy pace with my frantic steps. “What are we-where are we going?” he called out. I ditched my sandals when I hit the sea of white and ran through hot sand, gripping his hand and pulling him along, under the boardwalk, past a few homeless tents and down towards the water, where the posts are thicker, the cover more enclosed, privacy at a barely-there standard. I waded into calf-high water, pulling and then pushing him against a square post, my hands frantic on his shirt, my mouth fighting the movement of clothes for another chance at that gorgeous mouth.

His hands pushed my thin tee up, over the curves of my bikini top, his firm fingers sliding the triangles of my bikini over, my breasts spilling free, his hands cupping them and squeezing, his breath catching in my mouth. He pulled away, looking down, staring at my breasts in his hands, his head leaning down, his hands lifting me into the heat of his mouth. His mouth was incredible, soft yet firm, pliable against my delicate skin, his fingers’ brush against my nipples soft and sweet. I could feel him, hard against my thigh, and I reached back, digging into my pocket for what I always keep there – just in case. Just in case I meet a man who I can’t resist.

He started at the touch of my fingers, dipping under the nylon of his shorts, his mouth coming off of my breasts and looking at me, surprised. “Here?” This close, I could see tints of green in his blue eyes, the color of ocean water, glittering brilliantly against the brown sand of his skin.

“Yes, here. I need you.” I met his eyes confidently as I said the words, my hands already sealing the deal, pulling him out *oh my god HARD* and sliding protection over him with one smooth motion. His eyes darkened, intensity stealing over them, and he turned us, trading places, pushing my back against the hard wet span of wood, his hands lowering, gripping the back of my legs and sliding up, pushing my skirt higher, his hands gripping the meat of my ass and lifting.

Then I was in the air, his pelvis underneath me, supporting me against the post, and his fingers were skimming the line of my bikini bottoms, traveling up the curve of my hip until he reached the tie, yanking quickly, his hand moving back down once the material of my suit is gone. His mouth left mine, a gasp in his tone as his fingers pushed inside, one digit and then two. “Jesus. Are you sure?”

A stupid question as I hung before him, my breasts exposed, legs wrapped around his waist, my need dripping a path for his cock. “Give it to me,” I breathed. “Hard.”

He didn’t ask again, didn’t do anything but prop me hard against the post, used his fingers to position himself at my entrance, and then he fucked. Quick fast strokes, his breath hard against my neck, his hands digging into the flesh of my ass, pulling and gripping the skin as he made his mark on my body. His fucks were wild, out of control, and I moaned against his neck, loving the fervor of his movements.

When I came, I cried out, his mouth quickly moving to mine, muffling the sound, as my body shook around his, my legs squeezing as intensity shook my body. It was too much, too great, the heat of my orgasm and clench of my sex, and I felt him as he came, the twitch and raw emotion that flowed through him, his breath gasping as he grunted, slowing his fucks and giving me a few last, final, pushes.

“Oh my god,” he whispered against my neck, his cock softening inside of me. “Oh my god. I think I’m in love with you.”

He wasn’t. He was just surprised, that a girl with perfect teeth, and a bred-in-the-Valley smile, would fuck a stranger under the pier in Santa Monica. And I really thought, as I dropped to my knees in the water and peeled off the condom, taking him into my mouth and sucking his cock dry, that I would never see him again. That it would be that one, fuckable moment, and nothing else. But here we are, two years later and incredibly in love.

That’s right. In LOVE. Yes, I am still the hoochie who just got my brains fucked out on the weight bench. The one who has dated Stewart Brand, one of the most eligible bachelors in downtown Hollywood for the last two years. I know what you’re thinking. That dropped jaw and disgusted look on your face? I’ve seen it before. But wait. Please. Don’t judge me quite yet.

 

1486635_256521657830061_503107999_nAuthor Bio:

Alessandra Torre is a author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks.

Alessandra lives on the beach in Florida and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.

Learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com.

Author Links:
Alessandratorre4@gmail.com

http://www.facebook.com/AlessandraTorre0/

http://www.twitter.com/ReadAlessandra/

http://www.goodreads.com/AlessandraTorre/

http://www.pinterest.com/atorreauthor/

 

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