Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Release Day Launch w/ Giveaway: The Fine Art of Pretending by Rachel Harris

The Fine Art of Pretending by Rachel Harris
Series: The Fine Art of Pretending # 1
Date of Publication: September 30, 2014
Genre: Contemporary Romance , Young Adult
Buy from: Amazon , Amazon UK , Barnes & Noble , IndieBound , iTunes , Kobo
According to the guys at Fairfield Academy, there are two types of girls: the kind you hook up with, and the kind you're friends with. Seventeen-year-old Alyssa Reed is the second type. And she hates it. With just one year left to change her rank, she devises a plan to become the first type by homecoming, and she sets her sights on the perfect date—Justin Carter, Fairfield Academy’s biggest hottie and most notorious player.

With 57 days until the dance, Aly launches Operation Sex Appeal and sheds her tomboy image. The only thing left is for Justin actually to notice her. Enter best friend Brandon Taylor, the school’s second biggest hottie, and now Aly’s pretend boyfriend. With his help, elevating from “funny friend” to “tempting vixen” is only a matter of time.

But when everything goes according to plan, the inevitable “break up” leaves their friendship in shambles, and Aly and Brandon with feelings they can’t explain. And the fake couple discovers pretending can sometimes cost you the one thing you never expected to want.

An exhale of breath leaves Brandon’s lips, almost like a laugh, and he scoots closer to me on the blanket. I twist my legs under myself, sitting tall as I face him. He cups my chin and tilts it toward him, drowning me in the now dark-green depths of his eyes, the cologne I gave him for his birthday filling my head. It’s woodsy and yummy and I always loved how it smelled on the store testers, but on Brandon, it’s even sexier. My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, this time slowly. Goose bumps prickle my arms, and my head gets fuzzy.

Brandon slides his hand down the column of my neck and brings the other up, threading his fingers through the hair at my nape. His breath fans across my cheek, and everything south of my bellybutton squeezes tight.

When his mouth first meets mine, it’s hesitant, questioning. But as I move my lips with his, he quickly grows bolder, coaxing them apart.

Desire, pure and raw, electrifies my veins as his tongue sweeps my mouth. A whimpering sound springs from my chest, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Needing more. My teeth graze his full bottom lip, and I pull it, sucking on it gently.

He moans and knots his fingers in my hair, and a thrill dances down my back.

Brandon is an amazing kisser, just as I knew he would be. I have no control over my body’s reactions. I lose myself in his lips, his tongue, and his strong arms, forgetting time and space and even my surroundings—until Gabi’s snicker brings reality crashing around us, reminding me we have an audience.

And that I’m kissing Brandon.

We break apart, out of breath, and stare into each other’s eyes.

That was unexpected.

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*Giveaway by the author*


About the Author:

Award-winning and Bestselling author Rachel Harris writes humorous love stories about sassy girls next door and the hot guys that make them swoon. Emotion, vibrant settings, and strong relationships are a staple in each of her books...and kissing. Lots of kissing.

An admitted Diet Mountain Dew addict and homeschool mom, she gets through each day by laughing at herself, hugging her kids, and watching way too much Food Network with her husband. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romance, and LOVES talking with readers.


Website: http://rachelharriswrites.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RachelHarrisBks
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelHarrisAuthor
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5347676.Rachel_Harris?from_search=true

Monday, September 29, 2014

Book Blitz w/ Giveaway: Let Me In by Erin McCarthy

Let Me In by Erin McCarthy
Series: Blurred Lines # 3
Date of Publication: September 25, 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Buy from: Amazon , Barnes & Noble
A girl in danger…

Aubrey Walsh never dreamed that she would find herself in an abusive relationship, but after her boyfriend hits her so hard he breaks her tooth, she flees the University of Maine to hide on a remote island with her best friend. Only to discover that she is pregnant. Terrified of what will happen if Jared finds out, she is walking along the rocks, deciding her future, when she slips.

A guy with a secret past…

After a job gone wrong, Riker has left the assassin business and is incognito as a ferryboat operator off the shores of Maine. It’s a lonely life, and when he sees a young woman almost fall off the rocks, he doesn’t hesitate to save her and take her in, though he’s determined to stay unemotionally uninvolved. But when the truth about her situation is revealed, he will do anything to protect Aubrey and her unborn child.

Even marry her. Even kill for her.

When Jared comes looking for the only girl who has ever rejected him, Riker won’t allow it. And Aubrey is torn between protecting herself and her child, or protecting the mysterious husband she has come to love.

And when chance brings them together but fate tears them apart, can their love survive the storm?

“Where were you?” Jared asked as I came into the apartment, my arms loaded with plastic grocery bags.

He didn’t offer to help. He never offered to help.

His tone was congenial, but after six months of living with him, I knew him well enough to recognize that he was looking to trap me, to start a fight. To back me into a verbal corner where he could accuse me of some misconduct and there would be no way to argue rationally with him.

“The grocery store.” I staggered to the kitchen and heaved the eight bags onto the counter.

“It doesn’t take that long to go to the grocery store, Aubrey.” He stood up, rising slowly, unfurling himself like he had all the time in the world.

My palms started to sweat. Nerves. The cat-and-mouse game had begun, just like it had more and more frequently, where he berated me and shamed me and frightened me.

“I left work at five, sweetheart.” Sometimes, giving him a smile and using a term of endearment helped to diffuse his anger, but it was getting harder and harder to make myself smile.

It was also hard to believe I’d ever looked at him and thought he was gorgeous. Thought he was so sweet, so charming. There was nothing charming about him at all now. He was cruel and insecure and sadistic, and I was afraid of him—yet even more afraid to leave him.

He moved towards me, his arms crossing over his chest. “You fucking the bag boy, babe? Is that it? You can’t come home on time and cook me some dinner because you’re too busy in the backroom blowing some loser.”

I shook my head, saliva thick in my mouth. I took an involuntary step backward, but the cabinets halted my progress.

There was nowhere to go.

“Of course not. Why would I do that? I love you,” I said even though I didn’t. He’d killed every genuine emotion I’d ever had for him. “You’re the only man for me.”

The only man I even dared to look at for fear of the repercussions. The only man whose touch I granted, even when I wasn’t in the mood or I was tired or he purposefully degraded me. I knew that if the fear could be peeled away, there would be nothing there but pure hatred for Jared, but the terror was too overwhelming, an octopus ink that covered, hid, camouflaged all my other emotions.

“What do you want for dinner, baby?” I asked, despising the tone of my voice. It was wheedling, desperate. Pathetic. I didn’t even recognize that voice anymore—or who I had become.

I reached out to put my hands on his chest, to halt his steps, but under the guise of affection. I tried to kiss him, but he grabbed my hands and yanked one up to his face, the motion jerking my shoulder. I winced then tried to cover it. He sniffed my hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked, appalled.

He had leaned in and was smelling my neck, my clothes, my hair. It was discomfiting, and my hand trembled before I could try to control it.

“Seeing if you smell like a man.”

I didn’t smell like a man. But I was sure I did smell like sweat. It was August, and even in Maine, the days could heat up. It was almost eighty degrees outside and we didn’t have air conditioning in our apartment. Plus, fear always made me leach that sour anxiety sweat and I was truly afraid. I knew what he was going to do and I knew it was going to hurt.

The girl I used to be would have spit in his face, kneed his nuts, stomped on his foot. But for eighteen months, Jared had been grinding me down one day, one hour, one minute at a time until I was merely a powdery dust beneath his boot. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to flee, but I had left him three times before, and each time, he’d brought me back with first his tears and then his fists. He’d threatened my mother, my father, my brother, my best friend. He’d gotten me fired from my job, kicked out of my sorority house, and he had convinced me that no other man would love me.

So this me, the one with no money and no car and self-esteem that had been fed through the industrial shredder, just tried to keep the peace. To make the moment pass without repercussion.

“I’ll smell like a man once you kiss me,” I said lightly. “I missed you.” Lie. Total lie. So untrue that I actually felt bile rise in my mouth.

He saw it. Somehow, he always saw it. It was like he’d perfected the evil art of stripping me naked emotionally in front of him and he thrived on the humiliation.

Jared suddenly gripped my chin hard in his hand, jerking my head to the side.

I gave an involuntary cry. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

His lips came up to my ear. At first, he lightly nibbled on my earlobe. Then he whispered to me, his tender tone at complete odds with his words. “If you even so much as look at another man, I will break every bone in your body. I won’t even use my hands because you’re not worth it. I’ll stomp on you with my boot, the one I use to go riding, the one covered in horseshit. I’ll beat you so bad you’ll wish you were dead, and no man will ever look at your busted face with anything other than total disgust. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, a shiver rolling up my spine. He was big and he surrounded me, his shoulders tense, his grip on my chin so hard I knew it would bruise. He had played lacrosse in college, but he was broad and muscular enough that he could have gone out for rugby. I would never be able to overpower him, outrun him, escape him.

“I understand,” I whispered. “I am not interested in other men.” I wasn’t. I never wanted another man ever again. All I wanted was to be left alone.

He bit my earlobe. Hard.

I gasped in surprise. “Ow.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it’d slipped out involuntary.

Pulling his head back, he jerked my chin so I was facing him again. “Shut up. You are the whiniest woman I’ve ever met. I swear to God, all you do is complain.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside me and escaped before I could stop it. Was he insane?

Maybe he was. Maybe he was actually totally certifiable. Because I never complained. Ever. About anything. He had knocked that out of me months ago, had silenced me almost from the beginning with his verbal disapproval. I walked on fucking eggshells now and I was exhausted.

But even though I tried to clamp my lips shut, he heard the weird giggle and it enraged him. Before I could even prepare for it, the back of his hand came up and nailed me on the cheek. I stumbled from the force of the blow, tears springing up. Pain reverberated throughout my face and I caught myself with my palms on the kitchen counter, my hands falling into the grocery bags. He yanked me back by the arm and slammed me against the cabinets so that my hip connected hard with the lip of the countertop.

Then he went for the hair, grabbing a big fistful of my blond strands and jerking it so viciously that I cried out in pain. He did it to blur my vision with tears so I couldn’t see him clearly. It was his MO. First the hair. Then a few blows. Sometimes the face, but usually the arms so no one would see bruises later.

“Give me your phone.”

I dug it out of my pocket, thrusting it at him. There was nothing incriminating on it. But that wasn’t why he wanted it. He hurled it at the cabinets, denting the wood. The phone fell to the floor and he stepped on it. I heard the crack.

This was going to be a bad one, the worst in months. I could feel it. When I blinked and my vision cleared, I saw the fury in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils. He looked…murderous.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, more of the old me left than I’d realized. “I didn’t do anything.” I tried to bend down, to get away from his hold on me.

A survival instinct that had been lying dormant kicked in. This wasn’t going to be a time where I could placate him, and I was suddenly frightened—but not of pain. Of dying. If he hit me too hard, I could die, and I wasn’t going to let him do that without trying to protect myself first.

“You’re a fucking slut, that’s why. I know you’re screwing around on me.” With one hand still holding me, he used the other to pull his belt out of the loops on his jeans.

I clawed at his hands, trying to get myself free. No. No way in fucking hell was he going to hit me with that. When I couldn’t break his grip on my hair, I used my arm to strike at the belt as he raised it, knocking it out of his hand. The leather stung and I let out a cry, but he was shocked that I’d deflected the blow. I used that sudden pause to my advantage, twisting out his reach and finally freeing my hair.

“Don’t you dare hit me with that,” I warned, catching my breath and backing away from him.

“Are you giving me orders?” he scoffed. “I’ll hit you with whatever I want. Pull your pants down. I’m going to beat your ass with this belt like you deserve.”

There was no way I was going to voluntarily take my pants off so he could humiliate and abuse me. Somewhere deep inside, I found my strength despite the fear, and the line I couldn’t let him cross before I lost myself entirely.


“Then I’ll take your pants off.”

When he started towards me, I bolted, knocking my shoulder into his as I took off for the front door of our apartment. My keys to his car were still in my pocket. Or I could make it to the neighbors if I couldn’t sprint to the car. But he shoved me and I fell back against the wall. I tripped on the lamp cord and it crashed off the end table onto the floor. I put my hands up, but it was too late.

The belt, buckle end first, hit me square in the jaw, and the pain was so shocking, so excruciating, that I fell onto my knees and straight onto my face. I rolled on my side, grabbing at my mouth, my nose. Everything was radiating an agonizing throb, my fingers wet, the scent of my own blood clogging my nostrils. I tried to speak, to scream, to cry, but nothing came out but a gurgling mewl of panic. I dropped my bottom lip and blood rushed between my fingers, down my arm, puddled onto the floor.

“Oh, fuck, Aubrey. Look what you made me do.” Jared sounded frustrated.

The belt clanked down onto the floor next to me, and I winced, scooting away instinctively. I scrambled to sit up, to grab the belt so he couldn’t hit me again. There were tears in his eyes, and that enraged me. How dare he. How fucking dare he.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Shit. If you weren’t such a bitch I wouldn’t get like this. But you push all my buttons.” His hands went up into his hair. “You’re going be fine. Just go rinse your mouth out. Where are the car keys? I’m going to the bar. I need a drink.”

On my knees, gripping my split jaw with one hand, I started to dig in my pocket, loathing him with every bone in my body. Every single bone that he wanted to break hated him and his pathetic limp-dick need to beat on a woman half his size. When he bent over and made to root around in my pocket, clearly impatient, I swatted his hand.

“Don’t touch me! I’ll give you the keys.” Blood sprayed across his face with my words and he reached up and wiped it away in disgust.

“Jesus, Aubrey. That’s really gross.” Then he took the keys and left as I glared at him in complete silence.

I spit out two of my teeth into my palm and put them in my pocket. Then, with shaking fingers, I packed a bag with my wallet, my cell phone with the now shattered screen, and some of the groceries I’d just bought. The rest of the food I left on the counter to rot.

Without even bothering to clean myself up, I went out the front door and knocked on the apartment immediately to the left, where an elderly couple lived, my bag on my shoulder.

When the wife opened the door, I choked back tears as her eyes widened in horror. “Please help me,” I said, my words garbled from a swollen lip and the whistle of air where my teeth used to be. “Before my boyfriend comes back.”

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About the Author:

USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written almost fifty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult, and adult romance. Erin has a special weakness for New Orleans, tattoos, high-heeled boots, beaches and martinis. She lives in Ohio with her family, two grumpy cats and a socially awkward dog.

Author links:


Saturday, September 27, 2014

Book Blitz: Stronger by Sarah Greyson

Series: The Unit # 2
Date of Publication: September 26, 2014
Genres: Erotica, Romance
Buy from: Amazon , Barnes & Noble
Haunted by the loss of his beloved fiancée a year and a half ago at the hands of a terrorist cell, ex-Green Beret Rob Fabik doesn’t know how to let go. The sounds and sights of her death replay in his mind, and he tortures himself with the guilt he feels over not being able to save her life, distracting himself with alcohol and women.

Attending Harvard University, Lola Sardeson is a down-to-earth, rich girl who is tired of living under her father’s thumb. One night out with friends quickly turns into a nightmare as she is kidnapped from a busy Boston nightclub. Her nightmare intensifies as she learns that the Ortiz Cartel sells young, innocent girls into the sex-slave trade.

The Unit’s mission is to rescue Lola from the nefarious clutches of the Ortiz Cartel. From the instant Rob sees Lola, she touches something deep inside him, drawing out his protective nature. These feelings only serve to intensify the guilt he feels over losing his dead fiancée.

Forced by circumstance under the same roof, Lola inspires Rob to grow stronger. Can he suppress his feelings for Lola, or will guilt consume him alive? Can he forgive himself for not saving his fiancée? Can Rob save Lola and protect her from the greedy hands of the Ortiz Cartel?

Intended for mature audience 18+ for sexual language and violence.

This book can be read as a standalone.

Chapter 13

Lola sat in the SUV with Rob right next to her on the way back to Blackrain’s office. She was very conscious of where Rob’s leg was because it kept brushing against hers. Each touch would heat her stomach and make her feel longing deep in her core. She felt butterflies at just the sight of Rob. She had never experienced anything close to this before. Sure she had guys rubbing up against her when she danced, but never in her life had she ever felt this emptiness mixed with fluttering in the pit of her stomach, this longing for a man to be inside her, filling her up, like she felt for Rob.

They pulled in front of a small, non-descript two-story brick building that housed Blackrain Security. High-tech security cameras followed them. The inside was much like she expected. The downstairs had a few fake plants in a few corners and there were cubes that each held desks. She walked past the kitchenette on her way to the stairs. The kitchen contained a small table and three chairs, a microwave, a stove and oven, a refrigerator, and a coffee pot. It was a complete setup. Often, the men stayed overnight; they needed a working kitchen. The staircase was on the outside of the wall and led to a closed glass door. She imagined the upstairs was where they held their meetings. She didn’t see any conference tables in amongst the cubes. They made their way up the metal staircase and entered through the glass door. The upstairs was much more modern, with Impressionist paintings adorning the walls. Again, she saw the same fake plants she saw downstairs. Someone liked their greenery. Rob stopped outside of another door, this one frosted glass. The name on the door read ‘Tyrrell Greenwood.’ Rob knocked twice and heard, “Come in.”

Rob placed his hand on the small of Lola’s back and led her into the office. Lola’s father was seated at the large conference table. He stood and rushed to hug her. She hugged him back with all her might. She was happy to see the relieved look in his eyes. As soon as they finished with the embrace, Mr. Sardeson stepped back to look at his daughter. She was still wearing the white negligee and coat from the previous day.

“Can someone get her some clothes for Christ’s sake?” Mr. Sardeson bellowed through the office.

“Of course, sir. Aaron, please get Ms. Sardeson some clothes from the locker room.” Tyrrell motioned for Aaron to move quickly.

Rob found Mr. Sardeson in three long strides. He grabbed the man by the collar of his expensive suit and bunched it up at the neck. “How could you?” Rob spat into his face. He was so close to Mr. Sardeson he felt the huffed breath from the man on his face.

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Sardeson accused acting tougher than he felt.

“You could have gotten her killed. All over money,” Rob yelled. “They came after us. Your guy, who pulled the money, didn’t wait long enough. You know what? Forever won’t be long enough. They want her. She is worth three hundred and seventy five grand to them. You think they are just going to let her walk away?”

“I only provided three hundred and fifty thousand. Where did the other money come from?” Mr. Sardeson’s only question.

“That’s not your concern,” Rob responded. He really didn’t want Lola to know he put up the remaining amount.

“Wait just a second. What do you mean he pulled the money?” Tyrrell asked looking to Rob.

“He gave us about a twenty-minute window from the time the auction closed to the time he pulled his money. Thank God we were already in the SUV when Ortiz’s men started after us. We barely made it back alive. We had a good, old-fashion shoot out in the streets of some Mexican town.” Rob looked directly at Mr. Sardeson. So much for Lola’s father liking him.

“Mr. Sardeson, is this true? Did you pull your funds?” Tyrrell asked moving to pry Rob’s hand from his expensive collar.

“There was no way I was paying some criminal for the return of my own daughter. That is what I hired you to do. And I see I made the wise choice.”

“Mr. Sardeson,” Tyrrell said in his most patronizing voice. “Rob is right. They consider Lola their property. They are going to come after her.”

“I plan on having her back under my protection this afternoon. She will no longer be attending Harvard. She will have around the clock body guards . . .”

“I’m not going back with you, Daddy,” Lola interrupted in a low-pitched voice. “I will continue to go to Harvard. I will continue to have my own life.” She raised her chin and met her father’s calculating eyes. She stood solidly waiting for his tirade. Surely, he wouldn’t cause a scene in front of people. Nevertheless, she stood rooted to her spot, spine straight, eyes focused on her father’s.

“You, young lady, will be coming home with me.”

“I will not. I will find my own protection.”

“With what means? I will cut you off so fast . . .”

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she responded, “Good. I’ll use what I have in my trust fund. I’ll find a job like everyone else. I don’t want you to hate me, Daddy. I just want to have my own life. I’m tired of you controlling me.”

“And how are you going to afford protection? You need me.” He was looking straight into her eyes begging her to defy him. “Around the clock protection isn’t cheap. It will eat through your trust fund in a couple of months.”

“I will be her protection, sir.” Rob moved to stand beside Lola.

“See, Daddy. It’s settled. Rob will protect me.”

“I forbid it.”

“You don’t have a say, sir,” Rob’s steel grey eyes met dark, menacing ones. “Your daughter is an adult. If she doesn’t want to go home with you, she doesn’t have to. But rest assured, I will die before I let anything happen to her.”

“Lola,” Mr. Sardeson resorted to begging.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, but my mind is made up.”

“If I provide funding for this protection, can we make sure he has backup.” Mr. Sardeson could never refuse his daughter anything. It was his fault she was still in danger.

“We can work something out.” Tyrrell looked at Rob. “Care to tell me where the additional funds came from?”

“I’d rather not,” Rob responded.

“That wasn’t really a question.”

“Fine. I put in the twenty-five grand, or we would have lost the auction,” Rob said lowering his head embarrassed.

Lola’s mouth dropped open. “Why?” she whispered.

“I couldn’t lose you,” Rob said looking into her beautiful sea-foam colored eyes. All of the men in the room exchanged glances. What did he mean?

“I will pay you back,” Mr. Sardeson said reaching into his breast pocket and removing his checkbook.

“Lola, do you mind if I talk to my boss and your father for a minute, alone?” Rob asked aware that damage had been done, aware that he had revealed too much.

“Perfect timing. Aaron, will you show Ms. Sardeson to the ladies’ room so she can change?” Tyrrell asked.

Aaron opened the door for Lola, and she followed him down the hall. When Rob could no longer hear footsteps, he spoke. “I do not want my money back. I don’t want payment for this job. I’m protecting her because I want to. If you want to pay the company for the other men’s involvement, that’s fine, but I will not take a penny of your money.” He looked at Tyrrell, and Tyrrell knew he was serious.

“If you aren’t doing this for the money, son, then why are you doing this?” Mr. Sardeson asked cutting through the bullshit.

“I care for your daughter. Nothing will happen to her. No one will touch her, not as long as I am around. That’s all you need to know.”

“Tyrrell, I guess that leaves you and me to talk business,” Mr. Sardeson said, dismissing Rob and turning his attention back to Tyrrell.

Rob waited outside the Ladies’ restroom for Lola. He wanted to be the one to tell her the good news. She would get what she wanted. She could go back to Harvard. But he also had to explain his new role in her life. She exited the bathroom dressed in men’s jeans at least two sizes too big for her and a man’s plain white V-neck undershirt. She had to keep a hand on the pants or they would fall down.

“Thanks for that. With my father. No one has ever stood up to him for me before.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You deserve to live your own life. I do need to talk to you though,” Rob said, trying hard to avoid looking at her perky breasts covered by the thin fabric.

“Sure,” she said joining him in his walk down the hallway.

When they reached his cube, he pulled out his chair and offered her a seat.

“Thank you.”

Rob leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, I know we just met, but this detail I signed up for means you and I live together - twenty-four seven. You are never out of my sight.”

“What about classes?” she inquired anxious to get some resemblance of her old life back.

“I will escort you to your classes, and I will be waiting for you when you leave.”

“What about your life?”

“Until this is over, you are my life.”

“What about your girlfriend?” Surely he had to have a girlfriend, a man as gorgeous as he was. She let her eyes wander down his toned neck, over his Adam’s apple, down to his broad, muscular chest. Her eyes traveled further still, subconsciously, down to his narrow hips and his strong, powerful legs to the tips of his work boots. She liked everything she saw. She took her time working her eyes back up his body while she waited for his response.

He felt it. He felt her eyes as if they were a soft caress. Her eyes pierced his body and heated him. His groin pulled. She wanted him. His heart actually fluttered in his chest. She made her appreciation of his body known. He liked that. She was bold and brave. He admired that about her. She was also honest. He thought about it and realized he had been completely honest with her about everything. Even with how he was feeling, although under the guise of protecting her. He told her she was his life, and he meant it.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said suddenly feeling sad. His thoughts were turning back to Lizzie. He started to feel the guilt of forgetting his Lizzie for as long as he had. Lola had taken his mind and cleared it of everything but her. How could he forget the love of his life? Could he ever forgive himself for forgetting her? Whatever this pull Lola had over him was, he would have to fight it. She was his mission. He would protect her because, if he was being honest with himself, he cared about her. She affected him, relieved his scarred mind. But he would never forget his Lizzie again. She deserved better than that.

“Oh,” she said in surprise.

About the Author:

Sarah is an Amazon Best Selling Author. She lives in Virginia with her husband, two children, and four spoiled animals. She earned her Bachelor's Degree in Communications with a concentration in Professional Writing and her Master's Degree in Education.

When she is not writing or spending time with her family, she loves reading sizzling romantic suspense novels that make her blush. She loves a glass of pinot grigio, back-yard barbecues with friends and family, and helping her kids with their homework (in that order).

Her interests span all genres: from Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger to Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury to Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen to Slave by Shari Hayes to The Art of Happiness by Dalai Lama XIV. Sarah's favorite genres are contemporary romantic suspense and erotic suspense; the types of novels she crafts. While the concepts are familiar and comfortable, she brings her own unique story and personality to everything she writes. She loves the feeling of crafting a spicy, action-packed novel. Writing is her passion. She wants to leave her readers breathless after experiencing the intense ride that is her novel.

Author links:


Cover Characteristic # 77: Sunglasses

This week's theme is:


I like this cover, but I think it's not really sunglasses. Oh, well. =)