Knives instead of needlepoint.... #HistoricalRomance #Giveaway #Madness

Blurb

Daughter of an infamous murderer, Ivy Wollard now wields knives instead of needlepoint to survive in a society where no one wants her. When the Marquess of Blackbourne comes along and ruins her chance at a better life, she decides she’d rather have her toes eaten by eels than agree to his proposed scheme. There’s no way her surrender has anything to do with the mesmerizing angle of his jawline or the wicked twinkle in his eyes.

But Asher Blackbourne has a secret. He knows it’s just a matter of time until he goes mad and loses his illustrious title, so when Ivy falls into his path, he realizes he could use her to keep his house of cards from falling down. If every illicit touch between them doesn’t drive him mad first, that is.

Yet Ivy cannot escape her grisly legacy and the dark desires of her father’s admirers. What if violence runs through her veins, and no one who gets close is safe? Mayhem will descend as this rake finally falls for the enigmatic woman who might be just his brand of poison…Er, cure, of course.

Excerpt

“That was my favorite pen,” Blackbourne remarked in a low tone, looking at the broken quill and ink flooding the polished wood surface of his desk and nearby papers. He rose suddenly from his chair, forcing Ivy to back away a step until her derriere came up against the edge of the desk. 

 

She gasped as his full height loomed over her. Her hands grabbed the edge of the desk as his legs pressed into her skirts.

Perhaps she had gone a bit too far.

“I liked that pen,” he purred, his hand coming up to stroke her face.

She gulped. “I like my privacy.”

“Are you going to replace my pen?”

“Are you going to un-read my letters?” she replied, trying not to stare at the way his lips moved as he spoke in the smoky voice that strummed along her nerves like a cello’s bow.

He let out a bark of laughter. “Perhaps it’s too late to stop for either one of us,” he said, and Ivy knew he spoke of things other than pen and paper.

“It’s been too late for a long time,” she breathed, the fabric of her dress chafing the puckered tips of her breasts as his chest came up against hers.

His eyes flashed as he pressed her further backwards, hands positioned flat on the desk on either side of where he had her trapped. “I’m going to ruin your dress now.”

Ivy sucked in a breath as he lifted her onto the desk, ink smearing over her skirts and the palms of her hands. She didn’t mind that outcome one bit…

About the Author

Win Hollows is a multi-award-winning romance fiction writer who still believes that love conquers all. She currently lives in Colorado with her own real-life hero and their three fur babies. Her passion is writing stories about love and intrigue and will continue to do so as long as characters keep having conversations in her head. Hollows’ other interests include traveling to places with delicious food and languages she can’t speak, having wilderness adventures, and, of course, reading! She loves connecting with readers and fans on Facebook, Instagram, and through her website at www.winhollows.com.

Social Media Links:

https://www.instagram.com/winhollows/

https://www.facebook.com/Win-Hollows-166439534079985/

www.winhollows.com

https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/44526655-mayhem-and-the-marquess

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/Mayhem-Marquess-Lords-Havoc-Book-ebook/dp/B07NHR2TYQ

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mayhem-and-the-marquess-win-hollows/1130949870

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/929031

https://www.evernightpublishing.com/mayhem-and-the-marquess-by-win-hollows/

Win Hollows is giving away a $10 Amazon/BN GC to one lucky reader during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Out Now—False Start (Book 3, The False Series) by Meli Raine (@meliraineauthor)

Blurb

This isn't how my life is supposed to end.

Then again, a case of mistaken identity got me here. No one is ever who we think they are. Especially my kidnapper, a man whose entire life is designed to deceive.

Powerful people want my rescuer to die. I'm just a lure. A pawn. An object.

But objects hold meaning. Emotions attach themselves without logic.

Like love.

I now know that Duff will do everything to protect me.

If he gets here in time. And if I can hold on long enough.

Because my body can only handle so much. Pushed to the limits, it's finally giving out. Giving way.

Giving up.

I know Duff, though.

He never will.

Blink.

Read the stunning conclusion to USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine’s False series, told from both Lily and Duff’s points of view.

FALSE START (Book 3)

Apple Books Exclusive: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/false-start/id1421999168?mt=11

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42088271-false-start

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/false-start-by-meli-raine

FALSE MEMORY (Book 1)

Now Available

Apple Books Exclusive: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/false-memory/id1387687477?mt=11

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40405827-false-memory

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/false-memory-by-meli-raine

FALSE HOPE (Book 2)

Now Available

Apple Books Exclusive: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/false-hope/id1421994196?mt=11

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42088265-false-hope

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/false-hope-by-meli-raine 

Excerpt

Being locked in a room with a dead body is not on my bucket list.

Being locked in a room with a faceless corpse, the dim light making his exposed, bloody skull bones gleam like rubies, is definitely not on my wish list.

The scream that wants to come out turns inward, helplessness stopping it somewhere in my chest, comforted by my heart, which only wants it to go quiet. Screaming won't fix this. I can't find an escape by making noise.

Reality has a way of dominating.

I look down at the dead man.

Who is very, very real.

I move gently on the chaise, taking the deepest breath I can, holding it for too long. Suspending myself in time and space feels like the only out. I can't actually leave. Second best is closing off my air supply, shutting my eyelids, not moving. Freezing in place gives me an illusion to grasp, the fleeting seconds important.

My hand slides under a throw pillow. The cool haven of hidden fabric makes me shiver.

A black spider, all too familiar, comes off the pillow my hand is under.

That makes me shiver even more.

I jump up, shocked by the intrusion of another living being.

The door calls out to me.

The spider crawls down one leg of the chaise, then makes its way dispassionately along the tip of the dead guy's shoe.

In order to get to the door, I have to go around the dead body. In order to move, I have to feel the sensation of his blood on my skin. When I bend my arm, the dried blood on my shoulders and neck crackles. It puckers, like child's glue spread over skin and allowed to dry for fun

 

For amusement.

This is anything but amusing.

About the Author

Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes — and the women who love them. Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.

Social Media Links:

Website: http://meliraine.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meliraine

Twitter: https://twitter.com/meliraineauthor

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/meli-raine

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13536295.Meli_Raine

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/beV0gf

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Is the answer in the stars? Tail of the Dragon by @askzodia - #mystery #giveaway #astrology

Blurb

San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti never thought murder would be part of her practice, but now, Julia’s former boss and current client has asked for help. He has serious problems at his law firm. Three people have received death threats and the only common denominator between them is a case long settled -- the infamous Bank of San Francisco fire. Julia’s convinced a woman is behind the threats, perhaps even the widow of the man who died in that same fire, but no one wants to believe that astrology could provide a clue. Before Julia can help her client, two lawyers are dead and her own life is threatened. Can she unmask the killer before he (or she) takes another life?

Excerpt

I followed the curve from Sutro Heights down to the Great Highway. Here, the road runs parallel to Ocean Beach. Sheets of sand had blown across the highway and formed dunes every so often high enough to block the ocean view. Waves crashed against the concrete abutment sending salt water spray across my windshield. I turned east on Ulloa away from the roiling Pacific and spotted Sarah Larkin’s address on the opposite side of the street. The wind off the ocean picked up, blowing east. Particles of dust and beach sand hit my face as I climbed out of the car. Keeping my head down for protection, I hurried across the street.

I climbed the long stairway to the front doors where a sign indicated 3102-3104. At least here, in the shelter of the entryway, there was respite from the wind. I pressed the buzzer to the door on the right. After a moment, a woman called out. “Who is it?”

“Hi. My name is Julia Bonatti. I’ve come from Meyers Dade & Schultz.”

The door was quickly yanked open by a woman in her late forties. Her face was round and slightly puffy. She wore no makeup and was dressed in a nondescript brown jumper over a black sweatshirt. Her long hair, streaked with gray, was combed back behind her ears. 

 

She peered at me. “For God’s sake. What now? I told him I didn’t want anything from him or his damn law firm.” Her eyes were thin puffy slits.

“I . . . I’d just like to talk to you about your brother. I was hoping maybe you could help us in finding his murderer.”

“His murderer . . . I’d give his murderer a prize if I knew who he was,” she sneered. She looked me up and down and finally decided she’d talk to me even if it was only because I offered a sounding board for her bitterness. “Come on in,” she said resignedly.

“I gather you and your brother weren’t close, but I am sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. Wasn’t a loss. Believe me. I haven’t talked to Jack for years. Since my son died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” A familiar pain flickered in my chest. My loss seemed small in comparison.

“Nicky was sixteen when he died. He had a drug problem. He got mixed up with the wrong kids and they were into some heavy stuff. I was sure if he had one more chance . . . a good chance, he might make it.” Her voice trailed off. “I begged Jack for the money. I never asked him for a thing in my life. Never. But I begged for that.”

“He refused?”

“Said he didn’t see why he should pay for rehab or counseling. The other places hadn’t done Nick any good, so what difference did it make?” She looked at me, her eyes betraying a deep well of pain. “Jack never really loved anyone in his life. How could he possibly understand what it’s like to love a child? I didn’t have anyone else to ask. My husband was killed in a car accident when Nick was seven. Our parents are dead, and Jack had plenty of money. Big, successful lawyer . . . but he didn’t give a damn about me or Nick. Yeah, I hated him. I still hate his guts. I don’t care if he’s dead, I only wish he had suffered more.”

About the Author

Connie di Marco is the author of the Zodiac Mysteries from Midnight Ink featuring San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti. The Tail of the Dragon, third in the series, was released on August 8, 2018. You can visit her at conniedimarco.com, at Facebook.com/Connie di MarcoAuthor or Twitter @askzodia.

Writing as Connie Archer, she is also the author of the national bestselling Soup Lover’s Mysteries from Berkley Prime Crime. You can find her excerpts and recipes in The Cozy Cookbook and The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook. Connie is a member of MWA, Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers.

Buy Links for Tail of the Dragon

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Dragon-Zodiac-Mystery-Connie-Marco/dp/0738751065/

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tail-of-the-dragon-connie-di-marco/1127149243

IndieBound:

https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780738751061

Mysterious Galaxy:

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/book/9780738751061

Connie di Marco will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Back List Blast: Exposure (#erotic #suspense #pittsburgh)

Get your copy now! Amazon  BN  Kobo  Excessica

We're shy afterwards. We hardly talk on the way back to my house, but his kiss when we arrive is heated and fervent. "Do you want to come in for a while?" I ask, wondering how it will feel to have a man in my bed after such a long time.

He shakes his head. "I'm done in," he says with a mischievous grin. "Somebody really put me through the blender." He kisses me again, more gently. "And maybe now you'll get a good night's sleep. I'll call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jimmy. For everything."

"Anytime," he laughs, then turns toward his car.

I'm careful to lock the door behind me, but I'm still high from the evening's events. Only when I come out of the shower do I notice anything strange. I open my lingerie drawer to get out my silk kimono, and find that all my lovely things are jumbled together, without any order. I was nervous and fussy while dressing, I remember, but I can't imagine that I would have left my underwear in this state.

I check the other drawers. They are equally muddled. Most of the sweaters and jerseys are folded, but clumsily, and my usual organization by color and season is totally upset. Whoever rummaged through my clothing tried, without success, to disguise that fact.

Someone was in my house, while I was out with Jimmy. An intruder into my personal space. My haven! I sink down on the bed, shaking with mingled anger and fear at this violation. After a moment, I regain control of myself.

Someone had been here. Someone might be here still. I fish around in my purse for my Mace. I retrieve my haircutting scissors from the bathroom. Donning my terry robe, I creep into the hallway, a weapon in each hand.

Across the upstairs hall is my den and office, formerly my father's bedroom. I stop and listen outside the door. All is silent. Reaching inside, I flick on the light. The room is empty. There's no closet, nowhere to hide. But there are signs of disturbance. My desk drawer is open. My checkbook is on the writing surface as if someone had been reviewing the register. And my yellow pad, with my attempts at analyzing the events around Tony's murder. I know that I left it on the desk. Now it's gone. I search the rest of the desk, the cubbies and the file drawer. It's simply not here.

Somehow I'm not surprised. I feel cold, cold and clear as arctic ice. Someone was here, someone who knows something about Tony's death. Someone who thinks I know something, or have something that will lead me to the truth.

Shivering, I inch my way downstairs and check the front parlor. All is quiet and empty, though the burglar left his mark here, too. Knickknacks misplaced on the mantel. My father's humidor left half-open.

Finally, I make my way to the kitchen. Here, there's the clearest evidence: a tumbler with remnants of scotch, and a cigarette butt snuffed out in a saucer. By this point, it seems, my unwelcome guest didn't care if he left traces.

The back door, I discover, is unlocked. I'm one hundred percent certain I didn't leave it that way. Carefully, keeping my body behind the door, I scan the yard. The light filtering from the kitchen windows is bright enough for me to see that there is no one in my little square of turf. It also shows me crushed tomato plants and bean vines torn from their trellises, clearly marking the intruder's escape route.

At that point, my rage finally overwhelms my fear. I pour myself a finger of scotch and sit at the kitchen table, simmering in helpless anger and vowing some kind of revenge.

Then a horrible thought crosses my mind. Jimmy knew I would be out tonight. He was the only one who knew. Was it possible that he was involved in all this, somehow? Is it possible that smiling Jimmy might have betrayed me?

The balance shifts again. Shudders shake my body. Sitting alone under the fluorescent lights, gripping my drink, I am paralyzed by the realization that I don't know who I can trust. If anyone.