Tuesday, May 19, 2020

Fearless, honorable, and sexy as sin - #RomanticSuspense #EroticRomance @TinaDonahue


Toxic Truth cover

Blurb

Only he stands between her and a hired killer.

When Kenzie discovered a toxic truth that harms military personnel, the international corporation where she worked put a hit on her. Desperate to survive, she escapes to the Crazy Mountains to hide out at a deserted cabin she recalls from childhood.

Lucas owns the property now. As a former Ranger and sniper, he’s never met a more terrified young woman. Yet despite her fear, she’s determined to bring her former employer to justice.
Not without his help.

Fearless, honorable, and sexy as sin, he’s the hero she’s always needed.

There’s no turning back as they surrender to their mounting passion for each other and meet danger head on to bring a criminal enterprise to justice, saving those service members most at risk.

 

 
Excerpt

She couldn’t chance him knowing who she was if his buddies were looking for her. It didn’t seem likely, given his easy-going personality and what he’d already revealed about himself. However, risking anything at this point wasn’t wise. “Why is my name important?”

Are you a movie star or some kind of internet sensation?” He worked his mouth to stop his smile. “Afraid I’ll recognize you from your name rather than how you look at this point?”

A drowned dog probably had her beat in the beauty department. Hardly caring, she rubbed the blanket over her lenses to dry them but left thick smears instead.

This might work better.” He pulled a rag from his back pocket. “It’s clean.”

After taking it, she worked on her glasses, uncertain whether to feel bad for treating him like a criminal or to maintain her caution as to what he might do next. Vigilance won out. “Anything else you can tell me about yourself?” She pushed the rag in her jacket pocket. “Like why you’re up here alone— You are alone, right?”

He scratched his stubbled cheek. “If you’re asking if I have a wife and kids, it’s a firm no on both counts. There’s no long-term girlfriend in my cabin either. How about you? You running from an ex-husband, ex-lover, or a current one in those two categories?”

Why are you in the middle of nowhere?”

New muttering beneath his breath. “Because I like it?”

She swore.

Easy.” He used the same voice on her that he had with Caesar.

For some reason, it didn’t piss her off but made her tired instead. “I can’t tell you how much it’d help if you gave me some details as to who you are.”

Understanding and kindness rose in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’m former military, Army.” He lifted his slicker. Beneath it, he wore a Ranger sweatshirt. “When I left the service, I came home to Montana. Had a chance to get this property and took it.”

That didn’t make sense. “You’re so rich you bought this place and don’t have to work any longer?”

He grinned, his smile wide and inviting. “Don’t I wish, but no. Even if I had the funds, I’d still want to keep busy and offer my assistance to anyone who needs it. I’m in security, so to speak. I work on assignment. When each ends, I return here to wait for my next call.”

Sincerity rang in his voice and showed on his luscious face. More importantly, he wanted to help people. Still… She’d been cautious for so long, her misgiving lingered. “What did you mean by ‘so to speak’. It’s either security or it’s not. Which is it?”

Do you always ask so many questions?”

She bounced in place. “I don’t know you.”

Hey, I gave you my blanket, I’ve offered to call for help to get your car out, and I don’t know you either. Not even your name. Is it a secret?”

She looked to the side. “Kenzie Caltrane.”

Was that so hard?”

His softened tone and big body called to her as few things had. She was fucking weary and scared, and simply wanted to melt into his arms and beg him to make things better. Which he couldn’t. One man who worked security didn’t have that power. Damn, getting involved in her problems might get him killed, too. “You shouldn’t have stopped to help.”

Why not?”

Because you can’t.” The tears she’d held back for weeks poured out, turning into hitching sobs. “You’ll get hurt.”

Hey, hey.” He gathered her to him in a protective caress. “Nothing’s that bad. No one’s that powerful. If your current or ex, or whatever, is after you, I can get you to a safe place and—”

You can’t stop the entire government.” She pushed away. “You can’t stop an assassin.”

His features slackened. “What?”

She put out her hand, warning him to keep his distance. “Go back to your cabin. Pretend you never saw me. Forget my damn name.” A new sob caught in her throat. “You can’t help.”

Calm down, please.” He lifted his hands but didn’t touch her. “I’m not going anywhere. I sure as hell don’t intend to leave you out here alone to face whatever—”

You. Have. To.” She edged back. “There’s no choice. If you think you can call 9-1-1 and fix this, it isn’t possible. The federal government is involved. They’ll bury you.”

Alarm sparked in his eyes then faded, resolve replacing it. “Involved in what? What are you talking about? Who are you?”

For once, she got in his face. “I’m a toxic truth to the feds and others. They don’t want me around. That’s why they’ve put a hit out on me.”

About Tina


Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.


Email: tinadonahuebooks [at] gmail [dot] com









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Monday, May 18, 2020

The true endurance of singlehood - #Latinas #ShortStories #FreeBook @ArtistSandraL


Single Chicas cover
Blurb

Single Chicas is a collection of stories about modern Latinas being in, out, and around the zany hurdles of relationships. One woman receives strange calls from a lonely soul, another seeks advice on how to love herself, and another wakes up in a parallel universe to a man she's never met. These chicas will make painstaking effort to survive the complexities with humor and grace. Once again, López dazzles audiences with her brilliantly candid craft. Smart, witty, and funny, these stories will explore the true endurance of singlehood.

Excerpt

I'll never forget the day my brother gave me a stroke. Of course, being that he was my little brother, a stroke should've been classified a recurring condition by then. Instead, the most he had ever given me was a chronic eye twitch, which, now that I think about it, may have been an indicator of an on-coming stroke. But, yes, it was definitely a stroke I had when Benito (I always called him Benny) came over that day to tell me he was getting married.

My brain blew a short and my whole body went numb. I think, at one point, the world before me was engulfed in a white flash, and then somehow I ended up on the floor. When I finally got the feeling back in my jaw, the only thing I could muster to say was: "Are you a moron?" The clear answer was "yes." He was a moron. Getting married? Was he out of his freaking mind? Oh, hell yeah! Let's put aside that he was only 19, not even old enough to drink, for god sakes; let's put aside that he'd only known the girl for 6 months, at most; let's even put aside how annoying the girl was and how I couldn't stand her. Why in the hell would he want to hang himself like that? Had he forgotten that marriage is basically a prison? Had he not paid attention to all the disaster stories I'd told him? Broken marriages from all around the table, starting with our parents and going all the way to our grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, to damn near everyone else we knew. It all ended the same: divorce, the blissful release from a life sentence.

"Why, Benny, why?"

"Oh, Bea, don't you even start," he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't want to hear your putdowns on marriage…again. I've heard them over and over and over."

"Well, have you heard that marriages basically suck the big weenie?"

"I believe I did hear that from you, yes."

"Well, then tell me why? Why the fuck would you do something like that!?" Oh, I could feel my poor blood pressure rising. Good grief, the boy was going to give me a heart attack. I tried taking in a few calming breaths, but the whole thing was basically useless. I was in total freak-out mode. "C’mon, Benny, tell me, please, because I'm not understanding here. What, did she pull that voodoo-hoodoo crap on you? Did you crack your head on something? Have you just completely lost your mind? C'mon, you gotta give me something here."

With an easy shrug, he said, "Oh...you know."

"No, I don't know!" Okay...one, two, three...breathe. I shot him a stern glance and asked directly, "Did you knock her up?"

He looked at me accusingly, his dark eyes narrowing. "You would think that, wouldn't you?"

"Well, I don't know what else to think."

Benny shook his head with a petulant eye roll. I know that eye roll. It's the same one he pulls whenever someone tells him to pick up his socks or wash his hands. In a huff, he simply stated, "No. I didn't knock her up."

"Then why?"

"Because she's just..."

"What? Say something."

"You know..." At a loss for words, he paused then added, "she's just so...you know...great."

A literary master at work here. "Great? What's so great about her?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"That's a good answer," I inserted wryly.

"Well, I can't think with all these questions," he snapped.

"I'm sorry, do you need a minute? I mean, I know I'm throwing really hard questions at you. Worse than poking your nose or scratching your balls, evidently."

"Why you gotta be like that, huh?"

"Hey, I'm not the one ruining my life here. I'm not the one going after those little titties."

Pulling his "talk to the hand" gesture, Benny turned to walk away.



About the Author


Sandra C. López is a writer, artist, blogger, and book reviewer. She is one of today's funny and influential authors in YA and chick lit. Her first novel, Esperanza, was published in March 2008 WHILE she was still in college. Her most recent and bestselling book is Single Chicas, a collection of humorous short stories about zany chicas. She is currently working on the next installment of the Single Chicas series called Holiday Chicas. Release date coming soon! When not writing her stories, Sandra supports the art and literary communities with freelance work and book promotion. For more info, see below:


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Sunday, May 17, 2020

Celebrating the freedom to love .... #IDAHOT #NecessaryMadness #LGBTQ #Giveaway


IDAHOT banner

Today, May 17th, is celebrated around the world as the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. To be honest, I personally find it hard to imagine hating or fearing someone just because they happened have different sexual preferences than I do. I guess people are afraid of what they don’t understand. That’s a good reason (but not my only one) for writing LGBTQ romance – to demonstrate that love is universal, that is doesn’t depend on your biological gender or your anatomical equipment.

Anyway, to celebrate IDAHOT, I’ve got an exclusive excerpt from my MM paranormal erotic romance Necessary Madness. There’s a lot of love in this book.... even a marriage! And I’ll give away a free copy to one person who leaves a comment with his or her email address.

Blurb

Both power and love can lead to madness.

Nineteen-year-old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better. Rob's own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating. Since his telepathic sister's brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with 'gifted' individuals like Kyle. Yet he can't deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man - an attraction that appears to be mutual.

When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.


Kyle’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow. His ears rang. Ants crawled under his skin, creating an internal itch impossible to relieve. He recognised the side effects of Thorazine. Must have been a heavy dose. He groped through a fog, straining for consciousness. Anything was better than the smothering lethargy the drug produced.

He risked opening his eyes. A yellow halo surrounded the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. The brightness made him squint. It was all familiar.

He didn’t remember checking himself in. He didn’t remember anything, really, after leaving Rob’s apartment. His chest ached at that memory. He’d been so naïve, imagining that Rob might be different. That he might actually care.

Despair closed in around him. I wish I’d never woken up, Kyle mused. I wish this was all over. He closed his eyes again, willing the blackness to swallow him, but his mind remained stubbornly aware.

Kyle? Can you hear me?” That voice, soft but strong. What was he doing here?

Kyle turned his head, fighting the drug-fuelled tightness in his neck muscles. It was déjà vu. Once again, the sandy-haired cop sat at his bedside, fidgeting with his cap, his face sombre and worried. A tiny flicker of hope kindled in Kyle’s heart. He extinguished it immediately.

Go away.” He rolled to his side, turning his back on the blue-clad figure.

Please, Kyle. Listen to me. I’m so sorry. Really, I was so stupid…”

Resolute, Kyle closed his ears to Rob’s pleas. No one is going to hurt me again. Especially not you. He thought about razor blades and rat poison. Alcohol was too slow. He’d do what was necessary to escape from the madness, to spare himself—and Rob—any more pain.

An image of gleaming steel fluttered through his mind. Gradually the scene returned, the terrible vision that had sent him screaming into blind insanity. Enough of the drug lingered in his system that he could inspect his recollections impassively. The vivid and disturbing premonition had been atypical, a waking fit in which he personally experienced the predicted horrors. The patterns of his madness seemed to be shifting. What did it mean?

All at once, he remembered the images he had seen when he first met Rob, the pulse-pounding blow job, the joy of being on his knees serving the powerful older man. That dream had come true, at least in spirit. Saliva gathered in his parched mouth as he recalled the weight of Rob’s cock on his tongue, the solid force of the other man’s thrusts, the sharp flavour of his ejaculate.

Rob’s hand clasped his shoulder. Kyle’s cock stirred, defying the deadening effects of the medication.

Forgive me, Kyle. Please. Look at me, baby.”

It was the endearment that did it, cracked Kyle open and let the pain and desire flow in. He allowed Rob to roll him onto his back. He gazed up into the cop’s sky-blue eyes, tears gathering in his own.

Rob…” he began.

I know. I know. I’m an idiot. I tried to push you away. I lied to you. Tell me that you forgive me. That you’ll give me another chance to be with you. To take care of you.”

Why?” Kyle struggled to raise himself to a sitting position. Rob grabbed the thin pillow and tried to help. Kyle noticed the straps hanging from the chrome rails. Restraints. He must have been really crazy. “Didn’t you want me? We were so good together.”

I was afraid.” Rob sat back in his chair, staring at his shoes. “Afraid of your powers.”

Powers? You mean my visions?” Kyle had a hard time imagining the tough cop being afraid of anything.

Rob nodded. “I have to tell you the truth, Kyle. About the train. The Holden force found a kid on the tracks with a badly broken leg.”

Just like in my vision.” Kyle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And they saved him?”

Of course. The next train was at midnight. If I hadn’t called when you asked me…”

But you did call.”

Rob half-grinned. “I couldn’t resist you.”

The pressure in Kyle’s chest lessened. “It didn’t happen. I saw it, the disaster, but you changed the future.”

We did. That wasn’t the first time, either.”

What?”

When I picked you, just before you blacked out, you whispered an address.”

Yeah, I remember. I saw it scrawled on a wall.”

I sent a man over, thinking it might be your place. He smelt smoke. There was a fire starting on the roof. They put it out before it could spread.”

Oh my God… That’s wonderful!” Kyle wanted to jump out of bed and give Rob a hug, but his limbs weren’t quite up to that yet. He settled for squeezing the other man’s arm. The brief touch hardened him further. “It’s great! Why were you afraid? Seems like between the two of us, we’ve managed what I could never do by myself.”

Rob’s eyebrows gathered into a frown. “It’s personal,” he said. “But I’ll tell you, later, once we get you out of here and back home.”

Home. Kyle had never heard so sweet a word.


Necessary Madness is only 99 cents!



But do leave me a comment – you could win a copy!


Friday, May 15, 2020

Traveling with your family can be murder - #CozyMystery #Iceland #Giveaway @ark_author


RIP in Reykjavik cover
Blurb

One wedding party + one estranged mother = another vacation that goes awry for Naomi.

Naomi is off on another international vacation. She thinks traveling with her mother will be the most difficult part of her trip until she meets the rest of the tour group—a wedding party. It only gets worse when she finds the groom dead. Everyone’s a suspect on her Icelandic tour of this stunning country.

Excerpt

NÆSTA MORGUN {NEXT MORNING}

I had only one thought at breakfast. How did a young man die on vacation? There was no accident, no trauma, no nothing. He was fine one moment. Dead the next. It didn’t make sense.

I looked at my phone. I did the quick math. It was the middle of the night for Charlotte. I still considered calling. Awake Charlotte or just woken up Charlotte would give me the same answer—I had lost my mind. Just woken up Charlotte would be more angry about it.

I could hear her saying that it was ludicrous that I had found a dead body on vacation. Again. But this wasn’t a murder.

Milo’s death had to be what it appeared to be. A tragic accident. He drowned. The police were doing their due diligence in the unexpected death. An autopsy would reveal an accident. I could return to enjoying my vacation, with my mother.

Or at least trying to.

What are you doing?” I asked my mother when I returned to the room after breakfast.

She was writing in a notebook, as if she were journaling. It had to be her latest fad.

Recording my recollection of the event,” she answered.

Didn’t the police take your report?” I asked.

Yes.” She put her pen down and closed the book. “But this is for Dateline.”

For what?” I asked

For the investigation show. You have to know it. I watch every weekend.”

And why would you need notes?” I asked.

Because I’m sure we’ll be called in.” There was an excitement in her voice that was disturbing. “We were eyewitnesses. You pointed it out to that guide.” She seemed oddly proud of that.

Sigi,” I told her.

Yeah, the guide. They’ll probably want to talk to him too. But maybe his company won’t let him talk to the press. It’s not really the publicity the touring company would want, right?”

I ignored her question. “Did you see something useful?” I asked.

Not that I know of. But these shows would want to talk to anyone who could give them any perspective. I had a bird’s-eye view of all of you. You were only a few feet away. You flirted with the dead man shortly before his death.”

I did not flirt with the groom, Mother.”

I’m not judging,” she retorted. “He was a good-looking guy. You’ve done worse. Do what you want on vacation. Anyway, the shows won’t care.”

Shows?” I asked.

Definitely. There’s 48 Hours, plus the ID Network has a bunch of shows. We would do them all.”

This was not the mother-daughter bonding I had envisioned. Not that I had ever envisioned mother-daughter bonding for us.

She didn’t note my horror and continued, with even more excitement. “New groom dies on vacation. That’s a big story. Plus, he’s handsome. They always love when the handsome ones die.”

Mother!” I rebuked. “He drowned. Why would Dateline or any of those shows do a story on a drowning?”

Because he was murdered! Had to be. Who drowns snorkeling in clear calm water? I Googled it. No one has died there before. You heard the police. They told us to stay in town.”

Considering our return flight isn’t for several days, I think we’re good.” I went into the bathroom but then stopped. “What do you mean you Googled it?” My mother was not good with technology. That was more her mother’s area of expertise. “Let me see this Google search.”

She handed me her phone. The detective had told me others had died there. I couldn’t imagine he would be wrong. Or worse, that my mother was right.

I hit her internet browser and pulled up her last search. “Death at Thingamajig.”

I handed her back her phone. “We were at Thingvellir yesterday, Mother. Not at ‘Thingamjig’.”

Close enough,” she said, dismissing me.

I didn’t bother Googling deaths in Iceland for her. We still had a few more days on vacation and I wanted to leave the hotel again.

I glanced at my watch. “We have two hours until our tour.”

What tour?” she asked.

Check the itinerary. I’m going to walk around Reykjavík.”

The hotel was at Old Harbour with the city center only a few blocks away. As I exited the hotel, I took in the harbour’s pier with the many fishing and tour boats docked. The pier was lined with large teal buildings, housing restaurants and touring services. Mount Esja was in the distance.

I took a deep breath of the clean air. No smog here. Other than spending time with Pops as a child, I could not remember ever breathing air as fresh.

I read the harbor’s sign about the touring companies stationed there. Whale-watching options were plentiful. I’d have to check back later on pricing when they opened.

My phone rang as I walked up the hill toward the city center. I almost didn’t check it, assuming it was my mother, asking where we were going later. I was surprised when I saw Charlotte’s name and face appear.

What is it with you and finding dead bodies on vacation?” she asked when I accepted the video call.

I didn’t find a dead body on this vacation,” I answered.

That’s not what Mom said.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have been surprised my mother had told Charlotte. I should be surprised that I didn’t get this phone call last night. “Okay, technically, I found it. I noticed it before anyone else and I pointed it out to the guide. But the guide really found it.”

She smiled. “You certainly found your travel partner on this one, didn’t you?"

What do you mean?” I asked.

Mom! She’s keen on the whole murder thing.”

The man drowned. It’s a shame. Tragic, really. But not murder.”

She huffed. “Ooh. I get it.”

I didn’t like her tone. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it wasn’t good. “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

Mom thinks it’s a murder, so you think it’s an accident. You always have to take the opposite side from her.”

About the Author

A R Kennedy lives in Long Beach, New York, with her two pups. She works hard to put food on the floor for them. As her favorite T-shirt says, ‘I work so my dog can have a better life'. She’s an avid traveler. But don’t worry. While she’s away, her parents dote on their grand-puppies even more than she does. Her writing is a combination of her love of travel, animals, and the journey we all take to find ourselves.













A.R. Kennedy will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner


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