9.25.2017

Spotlight: One Summer Night by Caridad Pineiro

One Summer Night by Caridad Pineiro
[ At the Shore #1]
Sourcebooks Casablanca
October 3, 2017

Synopsis
An offer that’s impossible to accept… Maggie Sinclair has tried everything to save her family’s business, including mortgaging their beloved beach house on the Jersey shore. But now, she’s out of options. The Sinclair and Pierce families have been neighbors and enemies for almost thirty years. That hasn’t stopped Owen Pierce from crushing on Maggie, and he’s determined to invest in her success. Now he has to convince her that he’s more than just trouble with a capital T.

Excerpt
Sea Kiss, New Jersey
Tracy Parker was in love with being in love.
That worried her best friend and maid of honor, Maggie Sinclair, more than she cared to admit.
In the middle of the temporary dance floor, Tracy waltzed with her new husband in a satin-and-lace designer gown, gleaming with seed pearls and twinkling sequins. But the sparkle dimmed in comparison to the dreamy glow in Tracy’s eyes.
The sounds of wedding music competed with the gentle rustle of seagrass in the dunes and the crash of the waves down on the beach. The fragrance from centerpiece flowers and bouquets battled with the kiss of fresh sea air.
Connie and Emma, Tracy’s two other best friends and members of the bridal party, were standing beside Maggie on the edge of the dance floor that had been set up on the great lawn of Maggie’s family’s beachfront mansion on the Jersey Shore. Huddled together, Maggie and her friends watched the happy couple do a final whirl.
“She’s got it so bad,” Maggie said, eyeing Connie and Emma with concern past the rim of her rapidly disappearing glass of champagne.
“Do you think that this time he really is The One?” Connie asked.
“Doubt it,” Emma replied without hesitation.
As the DJ requested that other couples join the happy newlyweds, Maggie and her friends returned to the bridal party dais set out on the patio. Grabbing another glass of champagne, Maggie craned her neck around the gigantic centerpiece piled with an almost obscene mound of white roses, ice-blue hydrangea, lisianthus, sheer tulle, and twinkling fairy lights and examined the assorted guests mingling around the great lawn and down by the boardwalk leading to the beach.
She recognized Tracy’s family from their various meetings over the years, as well as some of Tracy’s sorority sisters, like Toni Van Houten, who in the six years since graduation had managed to pop out a trio of boys who now circled her like sharks around a swimmer. Although the wedding invite had indicated No Children, Toni had done as she pleased. Since Tracy had not wanted a scene at her dream beachfront wedding, Emma, who was doing double duty as the wedding planner for the event, had scrambled to find space for the children at the dinner tables.
“Is that Toni ‘I’ll never ruin my body with babies’ Toni?” Connie asked, a perplexed look on her features. At Maggie’s nod, Connie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she said, “She looks…happy.”
A cynical laugh erupted from Emma. “She looks crazed.”
Maggie couldn’t argue with either of their assessments. But as put-upon, as their old acquaintance seemed, the indulgent smile she gave her youngest child was positively radiant.
Maggie skipped her gaze across the gathering to take note of all the other married folk. It was easy enough to pick them out from her vantage point on the dais, where she and her friends sat on display like days’ old cakes in the bakery. They were the last three unmarried women in an extended circle of business and college acquaintances.
“How many times do you suppose we’ve been bridesmaids now?” Maggie wondered aloud. She finished off her glass and motioned for the waiter to bring another.
“Jointly or severally?” asked Connie, ever the lawyer. “Way too many,” replied Emma, who, for a wedding planner, was the most ardent disbeliever in the possibility of happily ever after.
Maggie hadn’t given marriage a first thought, much less a second, in a very long time. She’d had too many things going on in her life. Not that there hadn’t been a few memorable moments, most of which revolved around the absolutely worst man for her: Owen Pierce.
But for years now, she’d been dealing with her family’s business and its money problems, which had spilled over into her personal finances. As she gazed at the beauty of the manicured grounds and then back toward her family’s summer home, it occurred to her that this might be the last time she hosted a celebration like this here. She had mortgaged the property that she had inherited to funnel money into the family’s struggling retail store division.
Unfortunately, thanks to her father’s stubborn refusal to make changes to help the business, she spent way too much time at work, which left little time for romance. Not to mention that none of her casual dates had piqued her interest in that direction. Looking down from her perch, however, and seeing the happiness on so many faces suddenly had her reconsidering the merits of married life.
“Always a bridesmaid and never a bride,” she muttered, surprising herself with the hint of wistfulness in her tone.
“That’s because the three of us are all too busy working to search for Prince Charming,” Connie said, her defense as swift and impassioned as if she were arguing a case in court.
“Who even believes in that fairy-tale crap?” Emma’s gaze grew distracted, and she rose from her chair. “Excuse me for a moment. Carlo needs to see me about something.”
Emma rushed off to the side of the dance floor, where her caterer extraordinaire, Carlo Teixeira, raked a hand through his thick, brown hair in clear frustration. He wore a pristine white chef’s jacket and pants that enhanced his dark good looks.
Emma laid a hand on Carlo’s forearm and leaned close to speak to him, apparently trying to resolve a problem.
“She doesn’t believe in fairy tales, but her Prince Charming is standing right in front of her,” Connie said with a sad shake of her head.
Maggie took another sip of her champagne and viewed the interaction between Carlo and Emma. Definitely, major sparkage going on, she thought.
“You’re totally right,” she said with an assertive nod. Connie smiled like the proverbial cat, her exotic green-gold eyes gleaming with mischief. “That’s why you hired me to represent your company as soon as I finished law school. Nothing gets past me.”
“Really? So what else do you think you’ve seen tonight?”
Raising her glass, her friend gestured toward the right of the mansion’s great lawn, where some of the fraternity brothers from their alma mater had gathered. One of the men slowly turned to sneak a peek at them.
“Owen has been watching you all night long,” Connie said with a shrewd smile.
“Totally impossible, and you of all people should know it. Owen Pierce has absolutely no interest in me.” She set her glass on the table to hide the nervous tremble of her hand as her gaze connected with his for the briefest of moments. Even that fleeting link was enough to raise her core temperature a few degrees. But what woman wouldn’t respond like that?
In his designer tuxedo, Owen was the epitome of male perfection—raven-black hair, a sexy gleam in his charcoal-gray eyes, broad shoulders, and not an ounce of fat on him, which made her recall seeing him in much, much less on a hot summer night on Sea Kiss Beach. She had been staying in the quaint seaside town on the Jersey Shore with her grandmother that summer, much as she had all her life. As they also had for so many years, the Pierce boys had been residing next door for the entire season.
The two beachfront mansions had been built side by side decades earlier, before the start of the Pierce and Sinclair rift. The cost of waterfront real estate had escalated so drastically since their construction that neither family was willing to sell their beloved home to put some distance between the warring clans.

Well, make that the warring fathers, because as far as Maggie was concerned, she had no beef with Owen.

9.22.2017

Chapter Reveal: The Heiress by Cassia Leo


We’re just a few days away from the release of THE HEIRESS by Cassia Leo – are you ready to read the first chapter? Read it below!

THE HEIRESS by Cassia Leo 
 Release Day: September 26
Genre: Romantic Suspense

About The Heiress

A new heartfelt and suspenseful stand-alone novel from New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo
How much is love worth?
Twenty-two-year-old Kristin and her single mom have always struggled to make ends meet. When her mother’s body begins to deteriorate after many backbreaking years of working as a housekeeper, Kristin must say farewell to her college dreams and hello to a full-time job waitressing. She doesn’t really mind. After all, giving up on her dreams will be her penance for that one horrible night. Her luck begins to turn when she meets Daniel Meyers. Daniel is sexy and funny, but most importantly, he wants to get to know the real Kristin. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also extremely wealthy and intent on protecting her. Kristin feels safe with him. She wants to open up to him, to share the details of the awful night that changed her life. But she can’t shake the feeling that Daniel may be keeping a dark secret of his own…

Pre-order Now

Special $2.99 during pre-order; $4.99 reg. price after release

Amazon | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | Google Play | Paperback

Add to Goodreads

Chapter Reveal

Chapter 1 Taken Care Of

The dimly lit stairwells in our five-floor walk-up in the Bronx smelled even more like cat piss than usual. The August humidity had a lovely way of extracting the aromas that were usually trapped inside the dingy walls of our building. I tried to breathe through my mouth as I climbed the final steps to the fifth floor. But when I stepped into the corridor, a bright yellow notice taped to the front door of apartment 502 made me gasp, and the sharp smell got sucked into my nose again. I gagged, then marched toward my apartment. “What the actual fuck?” My curse came out much louder than I’d anticipated. Dropping my canvas bag of groceries on the floor, I quickly snatched the paper off the door, but not quickly enough. Mr. Williams walked out of his apartment as I bent over to stuff the notice into my grocery bag. “Good morning, Mr. Williams,” I said, breathing far too heavily for a casual walk to the bodega. “How’s your day so far?” He tilted his head a bit as his dark eyes remained focused on my bag. “Is that an eviction notice?” I unzipped my purse and dug frantically through the receipts and half-used drugstore makeup, which had probably been there since I dropped out of college two years ago. “It’s just a mix-up,” I replied with a chuckle when I found my house key. “Same thing happened a couple weeks ago. At least this time it happened on a Monday morning instead of a Friday night. I’m heading straight to the property manager’s office as soon as I get these groceries in the fridge.” “Is everything okay with you and your ma?” he asked through narrowed eyes. “We’re fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thank you so much for asking, but we’re just fine. This is just a huge mix-up.” Mr. Williams scratched his scraggly white beard, which sparsely covered his chestnut-brown skin. “Okay,” he said, slowly nodding. “Well, if you need anything, don’t you hesitate to holler at this old fool.” My smile widened, and this time it was genuine. “Thank you, Mr. Williams. I promise I’ll do that.” He stuck his chin out and beamed with pride. “That’s a good girl. You take care now,” he said, then ambled back into the apartment across the hall. When I was five, I often wondered if I was invisible—not metaphorically speaking, but actually invisible. I would watch in complete silence as my mom came home from a fourteen-hour shift, cleaning up other people’s messes. She’d collapse onto the sofa, turn on the evening news, and eat her dinner with a tired smile. Then I’d retreat to my bedroom and dream of a world where I existed. It wasn’t until a fateful evening in September two years ago, my fingernails peeling off as I desperately clawed my way up a highway embankment, that I finally realized how tangible I was, how heavily I was anchored to this merciless world. Now, as I rushed inside the humid apartment I shared with my mother in the South Bronx, I wished I could be invisible again. Closing the door softly behind me—so as not to attract the attention of any more neighbors—I power-walked into the kitchen and tossed my canvas grocery bag onto the counter. Yanking out the bright yellow eviction notice, I contemplated the ten-digit phone number scrawled on it in black marker. No. I wasn’t going to give those incompetent pricks at the property management office the courtesy of calling before I showed up. No way would I give them time to come up with some trumped-up violation that my mother or I had supposedly committed. Despite the fact that our building was more than a hundred years old and in serious disrepair, the bylaws consisted of a list of rules—I kid you not—at least sixty pages long. The list was mailed to us every year with an offer to renew the lease—with another rent increase, of course. And every year, the list got longer. One rule actually stipulated we were not allowed to walk around in high heels after ten p.m. I supposed it was a good thing I had no social life. I was in no danger of violating that rule. Of course, whatever bone the management was picking with us now was probably not due to anything I did or didn’t do. The eviction notice was almost certainly a response to what I had threatened to do. Three weeks ago, I threatened to file an ADA—Americans with Disabilities Act—complaint if they didn’t fix the loose handrails in the stairwells. When my mom and I moved into this apartment more than ten years ago, my mom was in excellent physical shape. Despite the fact that she had spent most of her life working as a housekeeper, she had managed to take good care of her body. Until she fell off a ladder at home and shattered her kneecap. Three surgeries later, she was desperate to return to work so I could return to NYU, but no one would hire her back. If the eviction notice was left on our door, that meant my mom wasn’t home when the notice was served, which meant our neighbor Leslie had come by to take her shopping. I put the groceries away and stuffed the eviction notice into my purse before I left the apartment. I thought of leaving a message with Leslie’s family, but decided against it. I didn’t want to worry her or my mom. Leslie was a stay-at-home mother with two kids in high school and a husband who drove a bus for MTA. She helped my mom up and down the stairs once a week to go shopping. Having amazing neighbors like Leslie and Mr. Williams was one of the many reasons I was hesitant to move to another apartment building with an elevator. One subway ride and nine blocks of walking in the glaring summer sun later, I arrived, sweaty and determined, at the front doors of Golde Property Management. I entered through the glass double doors, which squeaked on their hinges as I pushed my way inside. The black and gold confetti design on the linoleum looked like something straight out of a ’70s discotheque. The faux oak furniture in the waiting room, with the wood-grain laminate peeling off the corners, confirmed that I had stepped into an office stuck in another century. In the decade since we moved into our apartment, and ever since I began paying the rent a couple of years ago, I’d never had to visit Golde Property Management. I always paid the rent on time, and I always agreed to the new lease terms. If I had known that they were living in the ’70s, I wouldn’t have bothered asking them to bring our apartment up to modern building standards. Nonetheless, I needed to clear up this eviction nonsense. The last thing I needed was for my mother and me to be thrown out on our asses over a clerical error. The receptionist sat at a desk behind a sliding-glass window at the back of the waiting room. She watched me approach without even attempting to smile. I slid the yellow eviction notice across the counter onto her side of the glass. “I want to know what this is about.” She spun in her chair to face the computer on her left, positioning her fingers over the keyboard. “What’s the property address?” “Twenty-four eighty-three Hughes,” I replied sharply. She typed in the address, then her eyes scanned down to the lower-right part of the computer screen and stopped. “It says here that the eviction notice was posted today at 10:02 a.m. by the Bronx County Sheriff’s Department due to violation of the rental agreement. The violation listed here is nonpayment of rental dues in the amount of $7,050.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you kidding me? Our monthly rent is $1,175. That means $7,050 is what, like, six months’ rent? We’re not even late one month, let alone six. I want to speak to a manager.” She rolled her eyes as she picked up the beige phone handset and dialed an extension. “Is Jerry in his office?” she asked the person on the other end. “I’ve got a tenant here who says she’s paid up, but she just got served.” She sighed as she balanced the handset between her ear and shoulder. “Well, tell him when he’s done with his meeting that I got someone waiting for him up here. Okay? Okay.” She hung up the phone and looked up at me with a bored expression. “He’s in a meeting with an investor. You’ll have to wait a few minutes.” I wanted to protest for the simple fact that if I caused a scene it might ruin their chances with this investor, but I decided not to press my luck. “I’ll be waiting right over there,” I said, nodding toward the tweed sofa in the waiting area. Taking a seat on the sofa that smelled like desperation, I picked up a copy of the NY Post from the coffee table. The paper was dated thirteen months ago. This place needed an investor more than my mom needed a disability-accessible apartment building with an elevator. Of course, my mom would never admit that she needed anything. The eldest of four sisters, my mom left her small hometown in South Dakota to make her way in New York City when she was just nineteen. After a brief brush with homelessness, she started cleaning houses and saving up money to start her own cleaning business. Not long after that, I was born, and her dreams of being her own boss were tossed out the window. I had just finished reading a story about a feud between the hosts of two popular YouTube channels when a door leading into the back office opened. The first man who stepped into the waiting area—whom I assumed was Jerry—looked to be about sixty years old, and wore brown slacks and a short-sleeved blue button-up shirt, the fabric thin enough to show the dinginess of the tank top he wore underneath. The second man who walked through the door looked more like a mirage than a man. He was no more than twenty-eight years old, wearing a sharp navy-blue suit and a swagger in his step that said he didn’t just own the place, he owned the world. His dark hair was short, but not so short you couldn’t help but notice it held the perfect amount of wave. Every inch of him, from his prominent brow to his broad shoulders and beyond looked sturdy. This man was built to last a thousand lifetimes. But it was his face that made me wonder if I was actually staring at a desert mirage. His strong jaw and brilliant green eyes looked as if they’d been chiseled by Michelangelo. As a former student of sculpture at NYU, I could make that type of comparison in the more literal sense. If this investor bought out Golde Property Management, I’d probably sign a hundred-year lease. I shrugged off this ridiculous thought. It wasn’t as if this wealthy godlike man was going to send my next lease renewal along with a handwritten marriage proposal. Will you be my wife? Check yes or no. Please send reply in the enclosed envelope with full rent payment by the first of the month. “Are you Kristin?” I snapped out of my absurd fantasy to find the man I suspected to be Jerry staring at me as he held the door to the back office open. “Excuse me?” “Are you Kristin Owens?” he replied. “Here about the eviction notice?” His question set my blood on fire with anger. “Yes. I want to know what this is all about,” I said, getting to my feet as I held the yellow paper in front of me. “We’ve paid our rent on time every single month for the past ten years. If this is about me threatening to—” Jerry held up his hand to interrupt me. “Okay, okay. Let’s go into my office,” he said, his expression a mixture of shame and anger, probably because I just made a scene in front of his potential investor. He looked up at the man. “I look forward to hearing from you again, Mr. Meyers. Jennie over there can validate your parking.” Mr. Meyers cocked an eyebrow as he looked me over. “Maybe I should sit in on this.” Jerry waved off the suggestion. “Oh, no, this is just routine admin stuff. It will be over in two minutes. Don’t want to waste your time.” I stared at Jerry, making no attempt to avoid looking directly at the huge hairy mole protruding from his temple. “So now I’m a waste of time?” I asked. “If you think you can get away with—” “Excuse me,” Meyers interrupted, taking a step forward. “Earlier, you said you’ve paid your rent on time every single month for the past ten years. So, forgive me if I’m wrong, but that allows you to continue living in the unit until any further disputes are settled in court. Am I right?” Jerry shook his head. “But she hasn’t paid her rent,” he insisted. “I thought it was strange when the computer spat out the notice, but they only come up when a tenant is coming up on six months past due. Computers don’t lie. People lie.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted. “Are you calling me a liar? You piece of trash. I swear to God, I will bury you in so many legal—” “Whoa-whoa-whoa…” Meyers interrupted again. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said, casting a calm, confident look in my direction, holding my gaze for a moment before he turned back to Jerry. “You said computers don’t lie, but they do sometimes glitch. You even said you thought it was strange the computer spat out her name.” “Yeah, but it doesn’t randomly spit out names all day long,” Jerry objected. Meyers nodded and pressed his lips together in an expression that said he understood where Jerry was coming from. This guy was good. He was refereeing this dispute like a seasoned mediator. “But it’s possible the computer got it wrong,” Meyers continued as he looked back and forth between Jerry and me, smiling when I crossed my arms over my chest. “How about this? I’ll pay the past-due amount until you can figure out the glitch in the system. Does that sound fair?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Who the hell are you?” His veneer of confidence cracked for just a fraction of a second before he regained his composure. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he replied. “You’re right. It’s very presumptuous of me to think I could settle this with the swipe of a pen. Forgive me.” He turned to Jerry and gave him a curt nod. “I have some…thinking to do. I’m not sure your organization is a good fit for us. We’ll be in touch.” “Wait!” Jerry shrieked. “I think she was just taken by surprise with your offer. Right, Christina?” “Kristin,” I corrected him. “And I don’t need him to pay my rent. I already paid it. I need you to fix this!” I crumpled the yellow eviction notice and dropped it at his feet. “I can’t,” Jerry replied as Meyers quietly made his way to the receptionist’s desk. “My lawyer handles the evictions. He won’t close the file until the rent’s paid in full. I can’t pay him if I don’t have your money.” “You have my money!” I yelled so loudly I could almost hear my vocal cords snap. I cursed myself as tears stung the corners of my eyes. Blinking them away, I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to find Meyers staring aghast at my lack of control. He probably wasn’t accustomed to that sort of thing in his perfect world of privilege. But he wasn’t there. He was gone. I didn’t know if I felt more relieved that he hadn’t witnessed my outburst, or disappointed that the only sure way out of this eviction mess—at least, temporarily—had just walked out of my life. God, why didn’t I just let him help me? It wasn’t as if I knew the guy. I didn’t need to maintain some foolish sense of pride in front of him. I was becoming more and more like my mother every day. “It’s taken care of.” I looked up at the sound of the receptionist’s bored voice. She waved a piece of paper in the air, which looked suspiciously like a check. “He took care of your rent,” she said, looking annoyed. I turned to Jerry, but all he did was shrug. What the fuck just happened?  

Giveaway


About the Author

 New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time re-watching Game of Thrones and Sex and the City. When she’s not binge watching, she’s usually enjoying the Oregon rain with a hot cup of coffee and a book.

9.21.2017

Blog Tour: My Imagine of You by Melanie Moreland

My Imagine of You by Melanie Moreland
Published: September 19, 2017
Publisher: Loveswept

Blurb: 
She was the first good thing that ever happened to me. The only person who made me want to stay put. Until she disappeared. My name is Adam Kincaid, and I’m the most daring freelance photographer in the world. Or, at least, I used to be. After losing my parents way too young, I hid behind a camera lens—and discovered a talent that took me all over the planet. No assignment was too dangerous, no location too remote, no subject too painful.
Then came the accident, and the hospital, where I met her: Alexandra Robbins. My nurse. My savior. With her fiery red hair and crystal-clear blue eyes, the most striking woman I could’ve imagined—and the kindest too. How could such a big personality fit into such a petite package? But she was running from something too, something I never had: her family. She thought she’d escaped their control. But she was wrong. And now they’ve taken her away from me.
Today is her engagement party. I may not get an explanation, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get a photograph. A picture really is worth a thousand words. And just like love, it never fades away.

Buy Links:
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2s2I6Qd
EXCERPT
“Then why are you still here?”
“I had coffee with another nurse. I was leaving and I saw you standing here, holding up the wall. Or is it holding you up?” She shot back.
I ignored her remark. “You could have come to tell me you were leaving.”
She crossed her arms. “No, I couldn’t, Adam. We aren’t supposed to fraternize with the patients, and I wouldn’t risk my job. I was going to call you later and see how you were, though.”
My fingers itched to touch her cheek. I wanted to know if her blush warmed her skin. Her words, however, grabbed my attention.
“You were going to call me?” I asked, surprised. “How’d you get my number?”
“Off your file,” she admitted.
“I was gonna give it to you. And ask for yours,” I murmured, and gave in to the feeling, cupping one of her cheeks as I stroked it with my thumb. Her skin was incredible—silky, smooth, and yes, so very warm.
She didn’t back away from my caress. Our eyes met and held. So many emotions were in her wide, expressive gaze that looked more green than blue in the dim light. There were shadows of exhaustion under them, and the sudden need to care for her hit me. I blinked at the sensation—I had never once in my life experienced anything like it. I stepped back, my sudden movement making me dizzy, and I leaned back into the wall for support.
“You need to go home, Adam. You should have stayed until they released you,” she admonished.
“Yeah, this head thing is messing me up.” I huffed in frustration, unused to feeling so weak. “I need to grab a cab.”
“I’ll drive you.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Yeah? You sure?”
“You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
I arched my eyebrow. “As if I’d admit that when you were falling into my trap so easily?”
She grinned, her dimples deep. “Well, 6B drove me crazy all night, maybe you could take out your homicidal tendencies on them instead.”
I laughed at her humor. “I’ll try and resist.” Then I frowned. “Wait, what room was I in?”
Her grin widened and I knew who had driven her crazy. I grinned back, liking her teasing.
“Okay. My car is right there.” She pointed to a gray Honda parked at the curb. “Do you need help?”
“I can manage.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder and pushed off the wall carefully. I didn’t want to embarrass myself any more than I already had by falling.
Slowly, I followed her, watching her hips sway as she walked.
She was a pretty girl to look at, but the view was damn awesome from the back, as well.


BIO:
New York Times/USA Today bestselling author Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of twenty-seven-plus years and their rescue cat Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them.
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys travelling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie delights in a good romance story with some bumps along the way, but is a true believer in happily ever after. When her head isn’t buried in a book, it is bent over a keyboard, furiously typing away as her characters dictate their creative storylines to her, often with a large glass of wine keeping her company.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7355350.Melanie_Moreland

9.19.2017

Book Blast: The Wondrous World of Violet Barnaby by Jenny Lundquist

 
The Wondrous World of Violet Barnaby 
 Violet Barnaby searches for the joy in life after losing her mother in this sweet and funny follow-up to The Charming Life of Izzy Malone. Violet Barnaby is a having a blue Christmas. She’s still grieving the loss of her mother, and to make things worse, her dad has just married Melanie Harmer, a.k.a. the meanest teacher at Dandelion Hollow Middle School. But on the day Violet and her dad are packing up and moving into the new house they’ll share with Melanie and Melanie’s two children, Violet finds a letter her mother wrote to her before she died, asking Violet to enjoy Christmas, along with a Christmas Wish List—things her mom wants her to do during the holiday season. On the list are exactly the kinds of things Violet doesn’t want to do this year, like Be Someone’s Secret Santa; Give Someone the Gift of Your Time: Volunteer; and Bake Christmas Cookies. Violet shows the letter to her friend Izzy’s Aunt Mildred, who calls a meeting of the Charm Girls, a club Izzy and Violet belong to along with their friends, Daisy and Sophia. Aunt Mildred decides she will give them each a charm to put on their bracelet if they do all of the tasks on the Christmas Wish List, which Violet is not too happy about. She’d rather forget about the list completely, but feels compelled to honor her mother’s wishes. And when Izzy’s crush confides a big secret to Violet, Violet feels like she is stuck between her best friend and the boy who she just might have a crush on, too…
  
Praise for The Wondrous World of Violet Barnaby "[an] emotionally perceptive novel of grief and recovery." - Kirkus You'll fall in love with Violet and love every minute of living in her wondrous world! - Stephanie Faris
 
Author Jenny Lundquist Jenny Lundquist was born and raised in Huntington Beach, California, where she spent her time unsuccessfully learning how to surf. When she was younger, she wanted to be either a rock star or a published author. After she taped herself singing and listened to it on playback she decided she'd better opt for the writing route. Jenny is the author of multiple YA and Middle Grade titles including Seeing Cinderella, The Charming Life of Izzy Malone, The Wondrous World of Violet Barnaby and the forthcoming The Carnival of Wishes and Dreams (2019).

    amazon or paypal
$100 Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash Giveaway Ends 10/10/17 Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW. 

9.18.2017

Blog Tour: Second Chance Girl by Susan Mallery




SECOND CHANCE GIRL 
Synopsis:

From the #1 NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author Susan Mallery, read the second irresistible installment in the Happily Inc series!

Mathias Mitchell’s easy smile hides a world of hurt. After the worst kind of family betrayal, he moves to Happily Inc., California—the wedding destination town supplies a steady stream of bridesmaids, perfect for his “no promises, no pain” lifestyle. Yet he can’t stop watching for his beautiful, elusive neighbor on the animal preserve behind their homes.

Gamekeeper Carol Lund knows she’s not special enough to attract an alpha male like Mathias, so his offer to help her adopt a herd for her lonely giraffe is surprising—and his determined seduction, even more so. But just as she finally welcomes him into her bed, his careless actions crush her heart. Will she give him a second chance to prove she’ll always come first in his heart?

Don’t miss You Say It First, the first book in the Happily Inc series.


EXCERPT
Getting kicked in the stomach by a gazelle was never pleasant, but at one-thirty in the morning, it was especially hard to take. Carol Lund glared at Bronwen and the gazelle glared right back.
“You don’t get to have attitude, young lady,” Carol told her. “I’m not the one who insisted on going out by the rocks. I’m not the one who got scraped up, yet here I am, in the middle of the night, checking on your leg to make sure you don’t have an infection.”
Bronwen was notably unimpressed by Carol’s presence and dedication. She stomped her front hooves and turned away.
“You say that now,” Carol grumbled. “But just wait until feeding time. Suddenly I’m your best friend. You’re incredibly fickle.”
Carol packed up her supplies. Bronwen’s leg seemed to be healing nicely. With luck she wouldn’t require a second night’s visit tomorrow and Carol could catch up on the sleep she was missing.
She left the gazelle barn and started for her Jeep. The night was clear and cool and there were a million stars in the sky. While Carol would have preferred that Bronwen hadn’t been injured and that they’d both been able to sleep through the night, she had to admit that staring at the perfect sky was a very cool compensation. If she didn’t look at the horizon, or try to pick out individual constellations, she could be anywhere in the world—literally. Because the night sky was a constant.
Oh, sure, there were differences between the hemispheres and at certain times of the year, but still…stars!
She climbed in her Jeep and drove toward her small bungalow, then pulled onto the shoulder before she got there and cut the engine and lights. She got out of the Jeep, sank down onto the ground and gave herself over to the nighttime view.
It was October in the desert which meant warm days and pleasant nights. Rain was an unlikely possibility—that was more a spring-summer thing. The closest town was Happily Inc and it wasn’t all that huge, so it wasn’t hard to get away from the streetlights and into true darkness. Here, on the road, she was flanked by the mountains and the golf course, with the rolling hills of the Happily Inc Animal Preserve just behind her. And the stars.
She draped her jacket on the ground so she could lie down and get the best view of the wonder overhead. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there when a pair of headlights cut through the darkness and briefly illuminated her.
Carol sat up as a swoopy midnight-blue Mercedes sedan pulled in behind her Jeep.
Of all the gin joints in all the world, she thought. She watched a tall, dark-haired man step out of his car and walk toward her. It had to be after two in the morning, yet Mathias Mitchell looked more alert than sleepy. No doubt the lingering effects of the hunt, takedown and getting laid.

   

Get your copy of SECOND CHANCE GIRL here!


Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Nook | Book Depository | Powell’s

   

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Fool’s Gold romances Susan Mallery, comes the second standalone title in the Happily, Inc. Series—YOU SAY IT FIRST! You’re invited to visit Happily, Inc., a wedding destination founded on a fairy tale. Where people live… wait for it… happily ever after.

Order your copy today!


iBooks | BAM | Kobo | Google Play | IndieBound Audible

     

Add it to your Goodreads Now!

   

Write your own Wedding story!


    
Susan Mallery’s SECOND CHANCE GIRL – Review & Excerpt Tour Schedule:
September 18th
The Butterfly Reads – Review & Excerpt
September 19th
I Love Romance – Review & Excerpt
September 20th
Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews – Review & Excerpt
It's all About the Romance – Review & Excerpt
Rachel Loren's Love of Reading – Review & Excerpt
Stephanie's Book Reports – Review & Excerpt
September 21st
Books and Things Blog – Review & Excerpt
Reading Reality – Review
September 22nd
Becky on Books – Review & Excerpt
Jen's Reading Obsession – Review & Excerpt
KDRBCK – Review
September 23rd
OMGReads – Review & Excerpt
September 24th
E-Romance News – Excerpt
K.T. Castle – Excerpt
Melena's Reviews – Review & Excerpt
Nicole's Book Musings – Review & Excerpt
September 25th
For the love of romance – Review & Excerpt
Inside The Mind of an Avid Reader – Review & Excerpt
Smokin Hot Reads Book Blog – Review & Excerpt
September 26th
Always a happy ever after – Review & Excerpt
Bookishly Yours – Excerpt
Lattes & Paperbacks – Review & Excerpt
September 27th
Pervy Ladies Books – Review & Excerpt
Reads & Reviews – Review
September 28th
I'm A Book Shark – Review & Excerpt
Tales From A Bookworm – Review & Excerpt
September 29th
Gataleitora – Review
Remarkablylisa – Review & Excerpt
TBR Book Blog – Review & Excerpt
September 30th
Sofia Loves Books – Review & Excerpt
Two Book Pushers – Review
October 1st
Miss Riki – Review & Excerpt
Shannon's Book Blog – Review & Excerpt
The Book Maven – Review
October 2nd
Crazii Bitches Book Blog – Review & Excerpt
From the TBR PIle – Review & Excerpt
Living In Our Own Story – Review & Excerpt
Booknerd1107 – Review & Excerpt
October 3rd
I love My Bookgasms blog – Review & Excerpt
Readaholic – Excerpt
Renee Entress's Blog – Review & Excerpt
October 4th
Booked All Night – Review & Excerpt
JOJO THE BOOKAHOLIC – Review & Excerpt
October 5th
Mean Girls Luv Books – Review & Excerpt
Sweet Red Reads – Review & Excerpt
October 6th
Book Lovers Hangout – Review & Excerpt
G & T's Indie Café – Excerpt
Lover of Big Books Cannot Lie – Review & Excerpt
Shelf_Life – Review & Excerpt
   

AND don’t miss the first standalone title in the Happily, Inc. Series, YOU SAY IT FIRST! Grab your copy today!


Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Nook | Book Depository | Powell’s

iBooks | BAM | Kobo | GooglePlay | IndieBound | Audible

    About Susan Mallery: #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming and humorous novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship, romance. She's best known for putting nuanced characters into emotionally complex, real-life situations with twists that surprise readers to laughter. Because Susan is passionate about animal welfare, pets play a big role in her books. Beloved by millions of readers worldwide, her books have been translated into 28 languages. Susan lives in Washington state with her husband, two ragdoll cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her online at SusanMallery.com.    

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads | Newsletter