Snatched Part 1 by Candy J. Starr – Cover Reveal

Published on by Sydney Aaliyah MichelleLeave a comment

Snatched
Candy J. Starr
(Snatched, #1)
Publication date: March 22nd 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance

I need to stop this wedding. My mother snuck behind my back to marry a gold-digger but he’ll not get his dirty hands on our company. Only, I arrived too late and now have to cool my heels. I never let emotions interfere with my life but I’m so pent up that, when I noticed that hooker working the room, I figure a play session will relieve my stress.

Her innocence is just an act – and we both know what the game is here. Don’t we?

A stranger, a hotel room, no word and no names. Who better to have a wild fling with? I’d been numb to the world for so long with nothing but a mountain of crushing debts. Then my father offered me a wad of cash to attend his glitzy wedding. I don’t do casual flings but, just this once, I want to be wanton and crazy. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.

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Author Bio:

Candy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. “Screw you,” she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity – totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She’s seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She’s seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction.

Want to know about new releases and secret fan only offers? Join her mailing list – http://bit.ly/160V44m

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Destroy Me by Shana Vanterpool – Book Blitz

Published on by Sydney Aaliyah MichelleLeave a comment

Destroy Me
Shana Vanterpool
(Crystal Gulf, #1)
Published by: Swoon Romance
Publication date: March 8th 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

DESTROY ME is book one in the New Adult romance Crystal Gulf Series.

Bach lives his life with honesty and without restraints, happy to be known as a sexy as all hell, unapologetic asshole.

When he drinks, he drinks hard.

When he wants a woman, he makes sure she knows it.

When he opens his mouth, it’s either to piss someone off or to turn someone on.

You can normally find him with one hand on a bottle and one hand on a woman, trying to forget his past.

Harley Evans is ta wenty-one-year-old year old college student. She’s a good girl who fell hard for Dylan, who’d promised her forever. But Dylan, Bach’s best buddy, lied.

He enlisted in the Army, crushing Harley with equal parts anger and sadness. She’d already lost her father to that choice. Heartbroken, she falls back into depression.

Stuck in Crystal Gulf all summer with little to do, Harley needs a distraction. Enter Bach, sexy as f*#ck distraction, ready and willing.

Dylan’s not all bad though. Before he left, he asked Bach to watch out for Harley, knowing she’d never go for a guy like Bach. She’s too good for him. Too good for anyone.

But Dylan was wrong. He never should have left them together. Bach is there to pick up the pieces Dylan left behind. Soon pieces aren’t enough. He wants more, needs more Harley.

DESTROY ME is dark, sexy, heartbreaking, and intoxicating.

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EXCERPT:

“I do.” Her smile is sad and hopeful. “Ever since I watched one of the social workers at school help this kid that was getting bullied. The look on his face knowing there was someone out there fighting for him always stuck with me. I want to help people. Imagine being that one person, that one ray of hope that gives someone the strength to keep going. Think of all of those kids who don’t have the support I was lucky to have growing up? I can’t give it to them, but I can show them how to give it to themselves. I know it sounds altruistic. I just always felt like it was important. Is that silly?”

I once woke up in the middle of a hurricane. My arm was in a sling that Dylan’s grandma made out of old shoestrings and my face hurt like hell. Dad kicked my ass for dislocating my shoulder jumping out of Mr. Greer’s almond tree. The weather outside was making me shake. It was scary. No one cared that I was scared but Dylan, but Dylan couldn’t come out to play because he was in trouble for jumping with me. The old creaky house shook and the windows rattled. I just wanted it to stop. I crawled under the table in the kitchen, kneeling on top of old cigarette butts and beer stains and I prayed for it to stop. Over and over again, whispering it until my lips chapped. And just like that it did. I opened my eyes and looked out of the kitchen window. The sun was peeking through the clouds. The clouds were still gray, but I could see it. The most beautiful colors shone down. Orange, pink, yellow, and gold; it was shining right on my house. I got up and pressed my little face to the dirty window in awe. I knew right then and there that I would probably never see anything that beautiful ever again.

Until Harley.

I don’t deserve to sit across from her. To share a bottle of wine with her. To see her smile nervously after saying something like that to me.

“It isn’t silly,” I promise her, my voice gruff. “It’s, you’re, it’s … Do it. I really hope you do it. I wish I had someone like you around when I was kid.”

She has no idea how much I want her good right now. She smiles as if we’re talking about grocery shopping. Not like she just took my favorite memory and shattered it.

“What did you want to be?” she wonders just as the waiter sets down two brightly colored salads.

“Did you want to order?” he asks.

“I want the spaghetti with marinara and chicken parmesan,” Harley says, licking her lips excitedly.

I want to eat off her plate. When it’s my turn I fumble with my menu. Since when do I fumble? “The clams. I’ll take the clams.”

“Excellent choice,” he congratulates before he leaves. I get the feeling he isn’t talking about the food, in which case I agree.

I watch her slice the tomato with her fork, pair it with a bite of fresh mozzarella and a basil leaf, and then dunk it into her balsamic dressing. “Mmm,” she moans, closing her eyes in bliss. “This is so good.”

Why did Dylan leave her with me? Me!

“Did you hear me? What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

Safe. “Thor.”

She cracks up. “That’s either really cute, or really indicative.”

“Indicative of what?” I take a bite. I want to taste what she tastes.

She points her fork at me and waves it around. “All of this.”

“Oh. You mean all of this sexy panty ripping fantastic-ness?” I smile crookedly. We both know we both think that.

Author Bio:

When I walk into a book store I feel at home. When I smell the pages of a brand new book things make sense. When I read I am who I always wanted to be. I read to escape and I write so others can as well. My family, my actress dog Bella, coffee, and a steamy love story are a few of my most precious things. My Sweet Demise is my debut new-adult contemporary romance novel. Keep up to date with future releases by following on Twitter: @shanavauthor

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Talon by Sybil Bartel – Book Blitz

Published on by Sydney Aaliyah MichelleLeave a comment

Talon
Sybil Bartel
(Uncompromising Series, #1)
Publication date: March 1st 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance

Talon

I surf.

I fuck.

I pretend to smile.

Two years ago my life was perfect, until it wasn’t. I scattered my wife’s ashes then walked away from the Marines. I didn’t think I had anything else to lose.

I was wrong.

The blond showed up at my surf shop, beaten and stabbed. I did what I was trained to do—I stitched her up. I didn’t have a clue who she was and I told myself I didn’t care. Until they came looking for her.

I swore I’d take my last breath before I let anyone else hurt her except I didn’t know she was keeping a deadly secret. Now I had two choices, her life or mine.

Marriage and combat taught me the same thing—I was no one’s hero. And I was about to prove it.

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Grab your copy today for only $.99!

—

T1

SNEAK PEEK:

Siren strolled over next to me. I wrapped an arm around her neck and kissed her temple. She leaned into me and warmth spread through my chest. I trailed my hand through her soft hair and brought my lips to her ear. “You got another coupla hours, darlin’. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

She set her coffee down and snaked her hand across my bare stomach. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her scent filled my lungs and suddenly the air between us was so fucking charged, I couldn’t see past it.

Eyes stormy, cheeks flushed, her face tipped up. “I want to be with you,” she said softly.

My dick strained against my boxers. I didn’t know how much of her sentence was literal and how much was insinuation but I sure as shit was going to find out.

I pushed my hands into her hair. “I love hearin’ those words pass your lips, but you need to tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Despite me holding her head firm, she managed to look away. “Do I have to?”

“No games.”

Her hands gently braced on my chest. “Last night I felt safe. It felt good…being next to you.”

My muscles tensed, my jaw ticked and I shut everything down. “I’m no fuckin’ hero, I told you that.”

“I like you,” she whispered.

The weight of her words went straight to my heart and for one second I let myself breathe it in. Her quiet strength pushed out all the shit in life and filled the voids with her unassuming resilience. That alone should’ve had me running in the other direction but three words and I was sinking. I wanted to drag her into my arms and never let go but she deserved better. If she knew what I’d agreed to last night, she wouldn’t be standing here. “You don’t know me.”

Her hands dropped and she stepped back. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. My mistake.”

I was on her before the last word left her lips. I slammed my mouth over hers and sank my tongue into her heat. Pulling her against me, I gripped her hair, pressed her sweet little ass into my hips and kissed the motherfucking word mistake out of her mind.

T8

 

Author Bio:

Sybil Bartel grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling. She loves the New Adult genre, but any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes her swoon.

Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…

But Seriously?

Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.

She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.

To find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website, like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.

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Burning Choice by Aubrey Parker – Book Blitz

Published on by Sydney Aaliyah MichelleLeave a comment

The games continue. Such a hot series. – Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

Burning Choice
Aubrey Parker
(Trevor’s Harem, #3)
Publication date: March 1st 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance

I’ve been in this billionaire’s game for a month — but something changed when half my competition was eliminated.

It feels less like a contest now … and more like an experiment.

I shouldn’t have made it past the first round. I don’t know how I did; I’m not special like the others. When I ask Daniel, he just tells me it’s complicated. Then he talks about brain chemistry, how love and sex are an addiction. He tells me how wild animals claim mates, and how he’s claimed me.

The stakes are higher.

The competition is fiercer.

I should have been kicked out long ago, but Daniel tells me I might be the needle in the haystack the company has been looking for.

Sometimes I’m afraid of them all, even of Daniel.

But It’s like I’m on a tether. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.

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EXCERPT:

“I want to show you something.” Jessica flops sideways, grabs one of my pillows, and then pulls me down by my wrist so I’m lying beside her. She puts the pillow on the bed and rolls so she’s perched on it. Her head ticks, nodding halfway, as if to beckon me closer. I come, and she doesn’t stop gesturing until I’m close enough to smell the almond in her shampoo.

Her mischievous eyes watch me. Then she reaches for the covers, which I’ve piled to one side after rising. I’ve never been a bed maker. Because fuck that.

She drags the covers over us. We’re facedown on the bed, our faces above the pillow. Jessica shoves her face into the pillow and moans.

Or, now that I listen more closely, mumbling.

“Put your face in the pillow.”

“I’ve heard that line before,” I say.

“Just do it, Bridget.”

So I do. And then Bridget mumbles again. This time I clearly hear her say, “They can’t hear sound that doesn’t hit the walls.”

I don’t know what to make of that. I raise back up, so she pulls me back down, her arm draped across my back.

“Do you remember how they said there were blind spots from the cameras? The southwest corner of the kitchen, the front lawn, thirty yards equidistant between the fountains.”

“Between the fountains,” I repeat, nodding into the pillow, feeling stupid.

“Thirty yards equidistant. Not just directly between them. There’s only forty-five yards between the fountains. You have to come away at an angle, to the south. It has to be to the south because the wall is at the same angle to the north.”

“I just remember ‘between the fountains.’” And I’m lucky I remember that. That first night, they listed so many rules and details, I stopped listening. But Jessica apparently didn’t. She lists another eight or ten places, most of which barely sound familiar.

“Were you taking notes?”

Instead of answering, she says, “The mics also have dead spots — too much ground to eavesdrop everywhere. I was out back and spotted one near the peeing fountain thing. You know the peeing fountain?”

I nod.

“Then I found two more. They’re hard to find without looking like you’re looking, if you know what I mean.”

I don’t. Not really.

“I got the model number. They seem to all be the same. And that model is semi-directional, probably because if they’re not selective, they’ll hear all the birds whistling and pots banging and clocks ticking and stuff. The noise profile is … ” And for a second it’s like I’m back in my studio, studying technical manuals.

“Are you a sound engineer or something?”

“I read a catalog once.”

“What kind of catalog?”

“I was bored,” she answers.

Jessica’s eyes flick toward the ceiling, and she runs her fingers through my hair. “Sorry,” she says about the touch. “But if we don’t do something to justify lying here in bed, they’re going to pay closer attention than we want.” And then her hand goes under the covers, starts disturbing the sheets without actually fondling me — though surely, that’s what it’s supposed to look like from the cameras’ point of view.

My eyes scan what of the room I can still see, ass up and face in the pillow as I am. I know the cameras are there, and microphones with them. And I have to admit Jessica is probably right. They’d have to use mics with a reasonably narrow profile, or there’d be too much noise to make the recordings worthwhile. Talking into a noise dampener like a big lump of foam and fabric will absorb most of what we say, keeping any little echoes from bouncing around and being heard. It’s a risk I wouldn’t take without research into what’s watching and listening to us, but Jess is acting like research isn’t necessary. She saw a model number and somehow already knew everything about that specific model … and, apparently, everything else in the catalog. It’s fucking weird. But what the hell? It’s not like I wanted to be here in the first place, so screwing up and getting booted now doesn’t bug me as much as it bothers the others. I guess it’s no more risk to trust her than anything else.

“So,” Jessica says, speaking into the pillow. “Let’s talk about Daniel for you, Trevor for me, and how the hell you’re still around.”

Author Bio:

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life’s largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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Submission Specialist by Ada Scott

Published on by Sydney Aaliyah MichelleLeave a comment

Submission Specialist
Ada Scott
(Still a Bad Boy #2)
Publication date: February 26th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

Instead of Prince Charming, I got Him.

Skylar

I promised I’d save myself for my wedding night.

Of course, I didn’t know it was going to be a fake marriage to a heavyweight MMA fighter. I couldn’t have known how good it would feel to be pinned under all those muscles and tattoos, squirming, panting, and even whimpering in ecstasy.

None of us knew how deeply he was involved with the mafia.

When he disrespects them, they think they can use me to punish him.

They’re wrong.

He’s a tank in human form.

And he’s coming for me.

Austin

Men tap out inside the ring, women surrender themselves outside of it. That’s always been my specialty.

I chose Skylar because she was so innocent. A good girl like her would help sell my reformed image to the public. To corrupt her and leave her ruined for all other men would be my hottest conquest yet.

But I found more in Skylar than that. Who’d have thought that the first woman I wanted to lay more than once would be my wife?

Now they think they can take away what is mine?

Even if I have to kill every last member of the Bertolini Crime Family…

I’m coming for her.

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EXCERPT:

I felt like I was sitting inside my own head watching a movie play out as I dropped the remains of my apple in the trash and headed towards the Tier-1 fighters’ area. Uncle Malcolm wasn’t here to show me what to do. All I had was less than a year of study and a general appreciation of massages to rely on. It would have to do.

The Tier-1 wing had a guard at the door who looked mean enough to actually fight for NHBFC, but he let me through when he saw my uniform and heard that Gordon had sent me at Henry’s request. The hallway behind said door was just as chaotic as the ones I’d just left, but for a completely different reason.

With a smaller group of fighters to look after, and an already smaller staff diminished by illness, it was the MMA groupies making the most noise over here. Clusters of some of the most stunning girls currently in the city hovered around their favorite fighters’ doors, giggling and talking loudly. It wasn’t official of course, but the guard knew only to let in the best of the best.

The intensity of their beauty only served to make me feel self-conscious, as I awkwardly nudged my way through them to Austin’s door. Most of them were taller than me and the tops they wore made absolutely sure to show off their breasts, at my eye-level, to maximum effect.

They made me feel like a potato in a diamond display case as I sheepishly knocked on the door. A few moments later an older guy, Austin’s coach, snatched the door open.

“I told you bitches he isn’t ready yet!”

“Uh, Gordon sent me? Henry said you-”

“Oh, right, yeah. He’s just in the shower-”

The groupies in earshot all squealed and started talking at once.

“You come in, he’ll be ready in a second, I’m stepping out. Lock it behind you. Which of you girls wants to do me a special favor so I put a good word in for you with The Killer?”

I squeezed past him as a chorus of “I do!” “I will” rang out behind me. One of them said “How come the cleaning lady gets to go in?” Another said, “I’ll deepthroat your-” just as the door clicked shut.

Stepping into a Tier-1 dressing room after working on the other side for so long was like stepping into first-class on an airplane after only ever flying coach. They had all the same stuff that we had, but instead of bare concrete, there was actual paint on the walls, a permanent massage table, a brand new heavy punching bag hung from the ceiling on a chain. Plenty of bells and whistles.

Steam poured out of a cracked-open door and I could hear a shower running. I walked over and paused by the door, before knocking even more tentatively than I had on the other one.

“Austin? I’m here for the-”

“I told Ross to tell you I wasn’t ready!” he yelled out.

“Uh… no I’m not… uh… I work here? Henry said you needed a massage?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be right out.”

The sound of running water stopped and I caught a flash of movement in the steamed-up mirror through the opening. Quickly, I turned and faced the other way, ashamed at the flush of excitement that came unbidden and made me bite my bottom lip without thinking about it.

After a couple minutes I felt the waft of air as the door was pulled open behind me, and turned to face him. Standing there, wearing only a towel, with beads of water dripping down his neck and torso from his hair, was fan (and my) favorite, Austin “The Killer” Aquila.

That perfectly sculpted body looked like it was made from granite by an artist with an eye for sin, then decorated with ink in designs that curled all over. His thick arms had contours that drew my eyes up to his broad shoulders, and then sent them down across his pecs and over each and every bump of his abs.

His lower abdominals formed lines that narrowed as my eyes roamed lower… lower… lower until the visual ride was abruptly cut off by the towel, which he held up by one hand.

I looked up and heard my jaw click shut when our eyes met. I only hoped I’d closed my mouth before I drooled. If I was looking at him like a piece of art, he was looking at me like a piece of food, and it took all my willpower not to find a plate to climb on to.

All heavyweights have a certain presence. It would be hard not to when you’re a tank that has briefly assumed human form, but Austin had presence that almost seemed to make the air crackle between us and around him. His eyes, they were looking at me in a way that would give my dad a stroke. That brought me partway back to reality.

“Um… over there?” I pointed at the massage table.

“You sure you work here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I… I normally work in Tier-2…”

Austin closed the distance between us and leaned down towards me. My heart tried to jump up my throat to get a better view out my mouth at all that solid muscle so close to me, and my ability to breathe be damned.

“Because, if you’re another girl that stole a uniform just to get in here… well, I’ll have to do to you what I did to her.”

A drop of water fell from his head and landed on my ear, making me flinch. The scent of soap and the faint musk of him filled my lungs as I took a deep breath to offer whatever reassurance I could.

“I promise I work here,” I squeaked.

athlete like me

 

Author Bio:

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A former office drone, a former nurse, I now spend every waking moment doing what I love, creating and publishing these steamy stories about bad boys from the mafia, motorcycle clubs, and mma that make me, and hopefully you, weak at the knees! Anywhere a bad boy can be found, I’ll be there taking notes and making it even sexier 🙂

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