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Friday, September 14, 2018

EXCERPT REVEAL: Perversion by T.M. Frazier

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

USA Today bestselling author of the King Series, T.M. Frazier, brings you an all new trilogy with an anti-hero you’re going to love to hate and a ballsy heroine with tricks up her sleeve.

PERVERSION, book one in the all-new Perversion Trilogy is coming September 25th and we have the first sneak peek for you! 

Synopsis 

Love is supposed to be magical.
Ours is suicidal.
The first time I met Emma Jean Parish,
she conned me into taking her p*ssy.
Her cat.
When she was sixteen,
she manipulated me into giving her
her very first kiss.
At eighteen she gave me everything.
She's a con artist.
I'm a criminal.
I use her.
She manipulates me.
The attraction between us is explosive.
When it detonates
we could both wind up dead.

PERVERSION IS BOOK ONE IN THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
BOOK TWO: POSSESSION
BOOK THREE: PERMISSION

Pre-order your copy of PERVERSION today! 

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/perversionGR 

Excerpt: 

Emma Jean
When I was younger, I fell in love with magic. I learned every card trick there was from library books and unmasking magic TV specials. I used to put on shows for Gabby that included escaping from complicated knots and trick handcuffs. But what’s magic besides a sleight of hand? 
It’s a lie. 
And lying is what I’m damn good at. 
My ability to spin a tall tale or two lead to stealing wallets and conning people into taking stray pets for the thrill of it. Now, I’m using it to earn for Marco. The thrill is there, but it’s muted, hindered, lost under his pile of mounting threats. 
The inside of the casino smells like stale cigarettes, spilled beer, and burnt coffee. We’re not supposed to be in here. It’s Bedlam territory. But that’s also why it’s perfect. 
It isn’t like anyone would recognize us here. 
We’ve made friends with a few of the cocktail waitresses by giving them a small cut, and they don’t ask questions or ring any alarms when they see us working. I’ve also been straightening my hair over the last few years since my crazy curls stand out like a reflector on a dark highway. I’ve dyed it a few shades darker than my normal honey blonde to help blend in.  
Tonight is starting off well. Gabby and I are working a con we’ve run a few times before. 
Gabby walks away, her long dark hair swooshing behind her. She gives me a nod as she passes me by on the slot machine I’m pretending to play. She’s just faked losing an expensive engagement ring at another slot machine. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she frantically looked around for it, then loudly announced a thousand-dollar reward would be waiting at the casino cage for whoever returned it. 
She is flawless. She should be an actress. And in another life, she would be. 
But we don’t live in another life. 
We live in Lacking and belong to Los Muertos. 
Our lives are not our own. 
A few people casually look around the area, then return to their machines when they don’t find the ring Gabby was ranting about. They won’t either. Because it’s not there. 
Yet.  
It's go time. 
I strut over to the area Gabby just left and put a dollar in the machine. While the wheels spin, I pretend to pick up the dime store ring I already have in my hand. By the time the machine dings to tell me I’ve lost my dollar, I’m turning the ring over, inspecting it like I don’t have half a dozen more just like it in my drawer back at the apartment. 
“Would you look at that?” I mutter to myself loud enough so others around me can hear.  
A man in an Adidas jumpsuit with a potbelly taps me on the shoulder. “I’ll take that. I saw the woman who dropped it. I’ll go return it to her.” 
Liar. You just want the reward. 
“That’s so nice of you,” I say. I hold it out, about to drop it into his hand when I pull it back. “I bet there’s a reward for something this valuable.” I start to walk around the man. “I’ll take it up to management. Maybe, they know…” 
“Here,” the man says, holding up a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this. I’ll take it to her. I just…you know, as I said, I want to make sure it gets back to the right person.” 
You’re not even a good liar. 
Sometimes, it’s just too freaking easy. And this scam wasn’t even an Emma Jean and Gabby original. We saw it a long time ago in a movie starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Doesn’t anyone else watch movies? 
I shrug and pass him the ring. Plucking the bill from his hand, I tuck it into my bra. “Thanks,” I say before quickly making my way toward the large glass front doors. It’s Thursday. Marco’s money is due in two days, and we’re short this week. 
Really short. 
I walk slowly and wave goodbye to the valets with a smile on my face. “Any luck, tonight?” One asks me. 
“I think so,” I answer with a smile. Once I’m down the sidewalk and out of view, I scramble to the side of the casino where I kick off my heels and change from the sequined dress I’d stolen from a dry-cleaner into a pair of cut-off shorts and my yellow Keds. 
Now, all I have to do is wait for Gabby.  
I don’t have to wait long. 
“Run!” Gabby yells, darting from the doors of the casino with two large men wearing tight black security t-shirts close behind. Running from security is terrifying enough, knowing that we’re running from members of the Bedlam Brotherhood kicks it up a notch. 
I grab my backpack and sling it across my shoulders. I move as fast as I can until I’m running right alongside her. We race through the gates, cross the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by two cars. We duck into a hole in a fence and run through one backyard after the other. 
“One of those cunt waitresses must have tipped them off!” Gabby says, through shallow breaths. She’s barefoot in a black mini-dress hiked up to her ass to give her long legs room to run. Her long thick hair is wrapped around her face, sticking to her mouth. 
We hit the sixth backyard. Without another word, we separate behind a clothesline. We’ve mapped out this escape plan a thousand times, but this is the first time we’ve ever had to use it. 
When I make it into the central part of town, to the Los Muertos/Bedlam border, I can no longer hear the shouts of the security guards. I lost them. 
Hopefully, Gabby did, too.
I use a tower of stacked-up wooden pallets on the sidewalk like a ladder to scale a concrete wall, then drop down into the alley.
I grow more panic-stricken the longer I wait for Gabby. I bite the inside of my lip, pacing back and forth along the high wall. The Bedlam Brotherhood runs the security at the casino. If they catch her and find out who she is? Or worse? Who her brother is? They'll... I shake the thought from my mind. She’ll be fine. 
She HAS to be fine. 
Please be okay, Gabby. Please. 
I’m trying to catch my breath and pull myself together when I hear a clink echo through the alley as if someone dropped some spare change, followed by the sound of something heavy dropping to the asphalt.
“Gabby?” I ask into the darkness. Thinking it’s her, relief washes over me like rain on a barren desert.  
My only answer is the flickering of a fluorescent light mounted high on the roof’s edge of the adjoining building. And the hiss of what sounds like a cat behind a dumpster. 
I walk over and peer around it.  “Gabby? Are you hurt? Say something!” I whisper-shout. 
Someone moves from within the shadow.  “Get out here, Gabby. We’ve got to go before Mar…” 
The light flickers again, for just a second. That second is all I need to see that the someone slowly stalking toward me is not Gabby.  
It’s a man…twice my size. 
“Who are you?” I ask, shuffling backward as the man cloaked in a black leather hood emerges from the shadows. The front of his jacket is open. Underneath, he's shirtless, covered in a sheen of sweat, and more tattoos than visible skin all the way up the front of his throat. His muscled chest and abs flex with each step he takes. The hood shadows most of his face, but when the lights flicker again, yellow eyes glow from within. 
And they’re locked on me. 
My ‘save your ass’ mode kicks in. 
The man is blocking the only exit. My only other chance of escape is to scale the same wall I used to drop into the alley. 
I keep moving backward as he approaches until my back hits the wall. I look left and right for something to use to climb on. 
There’s nothing but emptiness. 
My stomach sinks, but surrender is not an option. 
I swallow hard as the alarm bells scream in my head for me to run. Somewhere. Anywhere. 
There’s nowhere to go! 
My legs tremble. Fear crawls like a million spiders along the backs of my legs. I push myself further against the wall as if I can squish the feeling away, but it’s useless. 
Fear consumes me. Swallows me whole. 
He continues toward me. As he gets closer, I realize it’s not just sweat glistening on his skin. There’s something else splattered across the tattoos on his chest and on his stubbled jaw.  
It almost looks like wet paint. 
My breathing stops when he’s close enough that I can make out the tattoo on the front of his throat. 
A bleeding black rose. 
The symbol of the Bedlam Brotherhood. 
I’ve heard stories about Grim. The man in the hood. The executioner for Bedlam. They were all terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the reality of coming face to face with the man himself. 
“We didn’t do anything,” I blurt. “I mean, we did, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll…I’ll give the money back. Just tell your men not to hurt my friend. It was all my idea. Let her go, and you can take me.”  
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His voice is so thick and deep I feel it more than hear it. Shivers erupt all over my body. 
He raises his arm, revealing a long curved blade.
For the first time in my life, I can’t seem to be able to hide my fear with my wit or sarcasm. My throat tightens. I can’t swallow, never mind speak. I’ve lost my words completely, along with my nerve. 
The man’s blade drips red onto the pavement from the serrated tip. 
Every fear response I didn’t even know I had runs rampant. I’m holding my breath. My muscles tense as if running was still an option. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle my skin as they stand on end. I raise up to my tip-toes and push back, trying to make myself disappear into the wall. 
I glance from the knife back to his chest, then back again. The splatters across his skin? 
It’s not fucking paint. 
Before I can process what the hell is happening, he switches from slow-stalking mode into hyper-speed, pinning my wrists above my head. His hard, bloodied chest pushes against me, smearing blood across my white tank top, forcing the back of my head to connect roughly with the wall.  
“I’ll only ask you this one more time. Who the fuck are you?” His low guttural growl rattles my bones. 
His unblinking, angry, golden eyes lock onto mine. Without the fluorescent light, they’re more golden brown than a glowing yellow. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. He could be the last person I ever see. 
The thought is just the spike of adrenaline I need. 
“Let me go,” I say, finally finding my words. I try and jerk my wrists from his grip with no luck. I’m trapped. My fear and anger rise to the surface, but I shove it back down. Fear won’t get me out of this situation, so it will have to wait for its damned turn. 
He digs his rough fingers into my skin. “Answer me. Who the fuck are you?” 
The bite of pain only makes me angrier. I throw his question back at him. “Who the fuck are you?”   
He glances down at my rapidly rising and falling chest before pinning me with his stare. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a half-smirk. 
“So much confidence for someone who's trembling,” he says with an amused glint shining in his demonic eyes. 
I shrug. “Maybe, I’m just not a fan of enclosed spaces,” I say through gritted teeth. 
“You didn’t answer me,” he says. 
“Why do you have blood all over you?” I answer him with yet another question. “You know, if you were committing some kind of crime back there, you should be more careful. I recommend a bleach bath and death by fire for your clothes the first chance you get. If it’s self-harm, I’m sure there’s a helpline you can call.”
He cocks his head to the side. His nostrils flare. His face is only inches away. I can feel the heat from his body against mine. His cool breath flutters against my neck. 
I’ve never been this close to a man before. My trembling grows. My inner thighs shake sending a rippling wave of something very unfamiliar coursing through the center my body.  I try and press my legs together to stop it from happening again, but when he uses his knee to wedge my legs apart, caging me in even further, it only grows, uncoiling from within like a slinky being pulled apart at the ends.  
I swallow hard as the stubble of his jaw presses against my neck. 
“Name,” he demands, his voice raspier than before. 
I shut my eyes tight for a beat, trying to gain composure, control, something that will help me as I try and reason my way out of this. “Listen, I didn’t see anything,” I blurt. “That is if you did anything. I’m not going to call the police if that’s what you're worried about. I wouldn’t anyway, even if I saw something, which I didn’t.” 
His brows knit together in a harsh line. “Why?” 
His question confuses me. 
“Why what?” 
“Why wouldn’t you tell the police?” 
Because Marco owns them. 
“Let’s just say that I haven’t exactly been a model citizen myself tonight. Let’s face it. If the police around here weren’t being paid not to do their jobs, half this town would be locked up.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “Especially people like us.”  
He stills. There’s no more talking. Only heavy breathing and a battle of wills. He releases one of my hands. I think he’s reaching for his knife. My blood turns cold. I can feel my face pale as my heart starts beating as faster and faster as if it wants to get in as many as possible before the end. 
I’m surprised when he doesn’t go for his knife. Instead, his hand travels slowly down my chest into my cleavage. 
“No, don’t!” I say, but it’s too late, he’s already yanked on my locket.
“Please just give it back, and let me go,” I plead. Feeling like it’s my real heart he's torn from my chest. “It’s the only thing in this world that means anything to me. Besides my best friend, it’s all I have.” 
I hate the desperation in my voice, but it’s the truth. 
He’s silent for a moment. He raises his arms. I flinch, raising my arms over my face defensively. But when nothing happens, I lower them, just in time to see him push back his hood, revealing his face.  
“Why?” I ask, closing my eyes knowing full well that the only time a criminal reveals himself to a witness is right before they take them out. 
“Look at me,” he demands, holding my face in his hand.  
“No!” I say, shutting my eyes tighter. 
“Look at me!” he bellows. He’s on me again. This time, he holds my head in his large rough hands. “Open your fucking eyes so you can see me.” 
With no other choice than to get my head squished like a turtle under a car tire, I do as he demands. Opening my eyes, I blink through the haze, and when it clears, I’m met with tousled, medium-length, light brown hair, slicked back on the top, shorn close to head on the sides. His nose is slightly crooked like it’s been broken a few times before. The stubble on his square, defined jaw is a few days over needing a shave. A jagged scar runs through his chin like an angry white lightning bolt. 
He’s the most fucking beautifully terrifying man I’ve ever seen. 
He’s searching my eyes for something, but I don’t know what. 
“Why?” I ask in a whisper.   
His hands release mine, but he doesn’t step back. He leans in closer, speaking against my cheek in a rumble of a whisper. The strange feeling from earlier comes back as a zap of electricity bouncing around my insides looking for somewhere to ground. 
I’m breathing heavy. Our lips are so close, almost touching. He slides one hand off my face, snaking it around my neck, pulling me closer. He starts to answer in a rumble of a whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on my already prickled skin. “Because I want you to see the face of the man who’s just—”    
“Where the fuck are you?” calls Gabby from the other side of the wall. “I lost them!” 
The moment, whatever it is, is now broken. The man releases me so suddenly I brace myself against the wall to keep from falling. I turn my head toward her voice. 
“Gabby!” I shout back. 
My heart is beating out of control. Out of habit, I raise my hand to my chest, seeking familiar comfort. 
I look up.  The man in the hood is gone. 
And so is my locket.

About the Author 
Kindle Crack Book Reviews

T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier never dreamed that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she is a five-time USA Today bestselling author and her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world. 

T.M. enjoys writing what she calls sexy ‘wrongside of the tracks romance’ with morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines. 

Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay. 

She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream. 

Connect with T.M. Frazier 
Facebook: http://bit.ly/TMFRAZIERBOOKS 
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JWHAv8
GoodReads: https://amzn.to/2OjmESr
Join Frazierland:http://bit.ly/frazierland 
BookBub: https://bit.ly/2xtlQ4u
Twitter: @TM_Frazier
Stay up to date with T.M. by signing up for her mailing list: http://bit.ly/TMFrazier 

For Text Alerts: TEXT “TMFRAZIER” TO 77948
*Standard text messaging rates apply*


Wednesday, September 12, 2018

COVER REVEAL: Hate Notes by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

My two favorite authors are back with a new sexy standalone romance!  Check out the cover and synopsis for Hate Notes.  11/6 release.  How insanely hot is cover model Dusan Susnjar?

A standalone romance novel published by Montlake Romance
New York Times Bestselling Authors Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward
Release date: Tuesday, November 6, 2018
Photo/Cover Details: 
Photo Credit:  Tijana Vukovic
Model: Dusan Susnjar

SYNOPSIS
It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. 

Something blue. 

I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old.” 

Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true. 

The name embossed on the blue stationery: Reed Eastwood, obviously the most romantic man who ever lived. I also discovered he’s the most gorgeous. If only my true-love fantasies had stopped there. Because I’ve since found out something else about Mr. Starry-Eyed. 

He’s arrogant, cynical, and demanding. I should know. Thanks to a twist of fate, he’s my new boss. But that’s not going to stop me from discovering the story behind his last love letter. A love letter that did not result in a happily ever after. 

But that story is nothing compared to the one unfolding between us. It’s getting hotter, sweeter, and more surprising than anything I could have imagined. 

Something new. 

But I have no idea how this one is going to end . . .

PURCHASE LINKS
Add to Goodreads http://smarturl.it/xys920
Amazon print (Currently on sale for $9.99!)  https://amzn.to/2p0HLxh
Sign up for Penelope & Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live!    https://www.subscribepage.com/Vi&Penelope

Please note:  Because Hate Notes is published by Montlake Romance, a division of Amazon, the book will only be available in ebook format on Amazon.  A pre-order will become available in October.

Stay tuned for a sneak peek excerpt of Hate Notes coming November 2nd! 
If you are a blogger and would like to sign up to participate in the Excerpt & Release Day Blitz, sign up here.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS


Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog
Vi Keeland 
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in two dozen languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.


Sign up for Penelope & Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live!    https://www.subscribepage.com/Vi&Penelope

Do you like texts better than email? Receive text notices of Vi’s new releases by texting the word BOOKS to 77948  You will ONLY receive a text when a new book goes live - no other messages at all!  

Find Vi here: 
Facebook Fan Group:

Facebook:
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6887119.Vi_Keeland


Kindle Crack Book Reviews

Penelope Ward
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism. 

With over 1.5 million books sold, she is a twenty-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels. 

Sign up for Penelope & Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live!    https://www.subscribepage.com/Vi&Penelope

Find Penelope here: 
Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/penelope.ward 
https://www.facebook.com/penelopewardauthor 

Facebook Fan Group:

Website

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Instagram
@penelopewardauthor
http://instagram.com/PenelopeWardAuthor/

Goodreads
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7105545.Penelope_Ward



Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Best Romance Books of 2018: REVIEW + $25 GIFT CARD GIVEAWAY: Block Shot by Kennedy Ryan

Read my spoiler-free review of Block Shot by Kennedy Ryan. Don't forget to enter Kennedy's incredible giveaway for some goodies including an Amazon gift card and signed paperback! Block Shot is on my Best Romance Books of 2018 list. 

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

$2.99 release price ends soon!
Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2wVM54B
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2IbeQOU


“Kennedy Ryan’s writing continues to amaze and inspire. She is a genius wordsmith and a prose poet. And in Banner Morales, she has created the perfect heroine for this day and age. Don’t miss this read. It’s everything.” — Emma Scott, Bestselling Author 

Block Shot, Kennedy Ryan’s enemies-to-lovers, second-chance standalone romance is LIVE and FREE in Kindle Unlimited! 

JARED
If I had a dollar for every time Banner Morales made my heart skip a beat...
The heart everyone assumes is frozen over.
Her anger is...arousing.
Every glare from those fire-spitting eyes, every time she grits her teeth, 
gets me...well, you know.
If I had a dollar for every time she's put me in my place, I'd be an even richer man.
I'm a successful sports agent because I assume "no" means you'll think about it.
I'm sure what you meant to say is "Coming right up.”
They say even rich men don't always get what they want, 
but those men don't know how to play the game. The trick is to keep them guessing.
Take Banner. She assumes she's winning, but this game? 
She doesn't even know how to play.

BANNER
If I had a dollar for every time Jared Foster broke my heart, I’d have exactly one dollar.
One night. One epic fail. One dollar...and I'm out.
I've moved on.
I’ve found success in a field ruled by men. 
Anything they can do, I have done better.
They can keep the field while I call the shots, blocking them when I have to.
And Jared has the nerve to think he gets a second chance?
Boy, please. Go sit down. Have several seats.
I'll just be over here ignoring the man carved from my fantasies with a lust-tipped chisel.
Oh, I didn't say the struggle wasn't real.

But I've got that one dollar, and Jared won't have me.


About Kennedy
A Top 30 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy Ryan writes about women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts.

She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine and Frolic, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Atlanta Autism families, she has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for families living with autism.

Connect with Kennedy:
Never Miss A Release!
Follow Kennedy on BookBub: bookbub.com/authors/kennedy-ryan
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Website: http://kennedyryanwrites.com


Enter this incredible release giveaway! 
SIGNED PAPERBACK, $25 GIFT CARD, HUSTLE TUMBLER, GIRL BOSS JOURNAL & PENCIL LIP BALM, BLOCK SHOT CANDLE 
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Monday, September 10, 2018

GIVEAWAY + EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: Block Shot by Kennedy Ryan

Check out this exclusive excerpt from Block Shot by Kennedy Ryan. Don't forget to enter Kennedy's incredible giveaway and read my spoiler-free review below! 

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

$2.99 release price ends soon!
Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2wVM54B
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2IbeQOU


EXCERPT:
A few quick steps bring Banner back immediately in front of me and she pokes her sharp little nail into my chest. “Block that.”
She blocked my shot.
I knew what it meant seeing her leave Lamont’s room, but it’s only when she voices it that I truly appreciate what a masterful move this is.
“Karma’s a bitch, huh?” she asks, satisfaction stretching her mouth into a wide smile.
“Apparently, she’s not the only one,” I reply admiringly.
Her smile holds, but her eyes narrow and frost over.
“Remember this bitch next time you and your pride of lions think about insulting me,” she spits, lightning in her eyes, thunder in her voice. “Or assuming I got where I am any way other than hard work. Remember this moment when I handed you your ass, Foster.”
Her anger, her indignation hit me with a blast of heat that burns through all my reasons and rationale and excuses to cover up what I have known deep down.
This woman is my match.
She is bright and good. And I can be dark, bad when I have to be. Sometimes when I don’t have to be, but just want to be. She is day and I am night. When day and night are absolutely equal, it’s equinox. Banner is my equinox. My equal. The revelation rattles around inside me, but my face, my surface remains smooth.
The game we’re playing just changed, and she doesn’t even know it. Banner is smarter than I am, but my gut is better. My instincts are sharper. I’m a weather vane. I feel shifts in the air, sense coming storms before she does. That sentience is my greatest advantage.
“So how’d you do it?” I ask easily, not missing a beat and giving nothing away.
“Effortlessly.” She angles a look up at me that is both withering and full of pity. “While you were entertaining Cousin It at strip clubs, I was talking to Lamont’s mother.”
I lean back against the closed door to listen. I really don’t care how she did it. I just want her to stay a few minutes longer so I can take my time appreciating every magnificent inch of her.
“Ahhh.” I nod and turn down the corners of my mouth. “His mother back in Atlanta.”
“I flew there straight from Denver, actually. Even attended a Sunday service and helped pay for the church’s new roof.”
“Wow.” I don’t care about the church’s roof. “You pulled out all the stops.”
“They really did need that new roof.”
She smirks and turns to leave, but I cuff her wrist with my hand to stop her. Her surprised glance collides with mine over her shoulder. I subtly tighten around the delicate bones of her wrist, push away from the door, and step into her comfort zone, close enough for our scents to mingle and our breaths to mix in the tiny bit of space I’m allowing. I’m crowding her, but I don’t care. Every minute that passes, I care less about Lamont Christopher, and his cousin and his mama, and their church and their roof.
“You really showed me,” I say, pitching my voice low and dipping my head until our foreheads almost touch, intimacy cocooning us in the open, in the hallway. Her pulse sputters through the warm skin under my fingers. Her breath catches and her eyelashes flutter in rapid blinks. She swallows, the muscles of her throat working under the velvety skin. I’d love to sink my teeth into that tendon; to mark the slim column of her neck. I want her to wear me and carry my scent everywhere she goes. She’s the only one who has ever stirred anything primal in me.
Her eyes shift from my hand encompassing her wrist to my face, a mask I’ve smoothed free of all the urges and feelings and things roiling under the surface. She tugs at her wrist, but I don’t relent.
“Let me go.” Her voice is husky, but calm.
“Of course,” I say politely, releasing her.
With one last searching glance, the one trying to figure out what’s changed, what’s going on, she turns and leaves.
I’ll let you go, Banner.
For now.


Enter this incredible release giveaway! 
SIGNED PAPERBACK, $25 GIFT CARD, HUSTLE TUMBLER, GIRL BOSS JOURNAL & PENCIL LIP BALM, BLOCK SHOT CANDLE 
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REVIEW OF BLOCK SHOT
Block Shot (Hoops, #2)

Block Shot by Kennedy Ryan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

description

I found myself wide awake at 1:30am the other morning after finishing Block Shot and knew that I was going to have a book hangover. After digesting all of my emotions, I knew that Kennedy Ryan blocked my shot at a chance of recuperating from my hangover anytime soon. This emotion-packed, second-chance romance was heartfelt and hot! I’m not going to regurgitate the synopsis and don’t want to spoil anyone's experience.

Banner and Jared's story is a journey of the heart and soul. Their story began in college and progressed into their 30’s. I usually fall head over heels for the hero and not the heroine. Banner's character represents every woman in such a real and relatable way. She’s strong, weak, smart, vulnerable and a force to be reckoned with. She’s not perfect, she’s human. She’s been burned in the past and she doesn’t trust Jared. She doesn’t comprehend why Jared would want her.

“Guys like Jared Foster don’t proposition girls like me in laundromats. Don’t get me wrong, I think he likes me. A lot. We laugh every time we’re together. Our conversations are stimulating. No one challenges me more in a debate. He’s the smartest guy I know, but he also looks like a handsome ski instructor who traded in the slopes for an Ivy League campus.”

“I can’t resist. I turn my back to the mirror and stare at my ass. Accepting myself as I am doesn’t mean I won’t work to improve and be the best version of myself inside and out.”

Jared is ruthless, complicated and cocky. He knows who he is and he owns it in an unapologetic way. There were times I wanted him to forget about Banner and move on. But what these two shared was magical, nuclear and once in a lifetime HOT!

“But he’s not wrong about survival of the fittest,” I clarify. “That’s real. Most sports agents are assholes. Mercenary. Cutthroat. Ruthless. I’m perfectly suited for it and plan to be the best asshole in the game.”

This book touched my heart in so many ways. Block Shot was nothing short of epic! I was in awe of Kennedy’s writing after reading the Flow, Grip and Still. Grip series. Then she wowed me with Long Shot. Now, I’m blown away by Block Shot. Block Shot is a standalone in the Hoop series and not to be missed! Take a shot on one-clicking one of my favorite books of 2018 and beyond.

This review appears on www.kindlecrack.net, www.facebook.com/kindlecrack, Kindle Crack Book Reviews Daily Fix group https://www.facebook.com/groups/Kindl..., Goodreads, Amazon, Pinterest, Google+ and Twitter. A review copy of this book was kindly provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.



About Kennedy
A Top 30 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy Ryan writes about women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts.

She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine and Frolic, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Atlanta Autism families, she has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for families living with autism.

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Friday, September 7, 2018

COVER REVEAL: On Dublin Street by Samantha Young


On Dublin Street got a cover makeover!  Read the first chapter from Braden's POV  - NEVER BEFORE SEEN! 


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Coming soon: Fight or Flight on Oct 9th!

KINDLE CRACK BOOK REVIEWS

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On Dublin Street by Samantha Young
Chapter 1 – from Braden’s POV


Sighing, Braden shrugged his shoulders back and looked up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight. Decked out in a three-piece suit on a hot day like this didn’t ease his growing frustration with his plan to sell La Cour. No one knew he was thinking of selling La Cour except Thomas Prendergast, a fellow restaurateur. A successful one. If any of his business associates knew Braden was selling La Cour they’d think he was nuts. The restaurant had a world-class chef and a stellar reputation. And it made money. 
In truth, Braden was just stretched too thin and not interested in La Cour. All his concentration and focus was going into making his nightclub Fire a success, developing properties that turned profits, and of course he still had his father’s estate agency to keep up with, as well as a successful Scottish seasonal restaurant he co-owned with the chef, Frazier Allie, down on the Shore. 
La Cour as it stood was a nuisance, a nuisance Braden felt obligated to attend to since his father worked so hard to make it the success it was. But his father had always told him that when business became a nuisance rather than a challenge, and was no longer satisfying, it was time to move on to greener pastures. 
Thomas was dragging his feet with an answer. 
He glanced back at the restaurant. Come on, Thomas, make up your mind, man.
Braden’s phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the digital reminder informing him he had a meeting in twenty minutes with one of his managers at Douglas Carmichael & Co, the estate agency his grandfather built up from the ground up to become one of the primary agencies in the Lothians. 
Shit. He’d spent longer with Thomas Prendergast than he’d meant to. Scowling, Braden walked toward Bruntsfield Church, his pale blue eyes trained on the road ahead, willing a cab to make an appearance. Only seconds later one turned around the corner and he stepped out onto the curb with his arm raised. To his relief the taxi pulled up to him. He’d make his meeting.
Reaching for the handle on the passenger side, a clean, fruity smell drifted towards him seconds before a warm, small and very feminine hand collided with his.
Braden dipped his head and looked down into the face of a woman, her skin bright from the sunlight, her eyes narrowed to slits as she squinted against the sun behind his head. There was a surprised disgruntlement in her expression. Clearly she assumed this was her black cab. Braden prepared to disabuse her of the notion but stopped. His father taught him that reading people, and by that he meant all the things they didn’t say with their mouths but did with their bodies and eyes, was the key to success in business. Braden read stubbornness in her features he could make out and in the obstinate tension she held in her shoulders. He was in no mood for stubbornness or fighting over a bloody cab after his meeting with Thomas had come to no satisfactory conclusion.
For the sake of expedience Braden asked, “Which way are you headed?”
He heard the words ‘Dublin Street’ and did what he always did: maneuvered things to his liking. “Good.” He pulled the cab door open. “I’m heading in that direction, and since I’m already running late, might I suggest we share the taxi instead of wasting ten minutes deciding who needs it more.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and nudged her into the cab. 
Relieved she didn’t stall them, Braden got in after her and immediately gave the cab driver their first destination. His sister, Ellie, lived on Dublin Street in a flat he’d renovated and then gifted to her. Ellie was his half-sister—they shared the same father. She’d never had it particularly easy from their dad. That was putting it politely. Douglas Carmichael was a negligent bastard and despite the fact that he and Braden had finally become friends of a sort before he died, Braden had never forgiven him for his treatment of Ellie. The guilt Douglas should have felt transferred to Braden, and he’d done everything he could to make sure her life was easier, and that she knew he cared. Giving her the flat meant she could concentrate on that PhD she was studying for. Braden might think the PhD impractical, but it made her happy, and in the end that was all that mattered. He also liked having her close to the estate agency which was on Dundas Street. Anytime he was in the area, which was more often than not, he could drop by to see Els. Braden was lucky to call Ellie not only his sister, but one of his closest friends, and it was nice to escape the stress of his business life at least for ten minutes when he stopped by for a coffee with her.
Braden decided he’d get the cab driver to stop at the top of Dublin Street, burl around and come back toward Dundas Street. It would be easier to drop him off first but it was ingrained in him to never let a woman pay for anything, so he’d drop off the unexpected passenger so he could pay the fare.
“Thanks I guess,” the woman answered from his left, the words sardonic. It wasn’t the tone that drew his attention. It was the husky, sexy voice and the American accent.

NEW ROMANCE BOOK RELEASE REVIEW: Dirty Headlines by L.J. Shen

Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy, enemies-to-lovers romance from bestselling author L.J. Shen is LIVE! Check out my spoiler-free review. This book is FREE in Kindle Unlimited.
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"Dirty Headlines is a fantastic enemies to lovers office romance with a perfect filthy asshole hero that I wish I'd written myself." - Laurelin Paige, New York Times bestselling author 

Célian Laurent.
Manhattan royalty.
Notorious playboy.
Heir to a media empire.
…And my new boss.

I could have impressed him, if not for last month’s unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory—namely, his wallet.
Now he’s staring me down like I’m the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I’m supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith “Jude” Humphry is I have nothing to lose.
Brooklyn girl.
Infamously quirky.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
He knows it.
So do I. 
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But it’s my heart at stake, and I fear I’ll be raising the white flag.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited! 
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/DirtyHeadlines 

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Review of Dirty Headlines
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
OMG LOVED THIS BOOK!
“All I’m saying is he’s like a half-priced facelift in an unregistered clinic in Eastern Europe. I would still do it, even knowing it’s deadly.”

Dirty Laundry by L.J. Shen is easily one of my top reads of 2018.  This enemies-to-lovers romance managed to tug at my heart, fog up my Kindle screen and make me laugh more than a few times. I’m obsessed with this addictive new release. I couldn’t get enough of dirty talking Célian and his razor-sharp wit. Good lord, he was such a character. Célian was the epitome of the sexy and smart alpha beast.  Much like Jude, I hated and loved Célian.

Jude had no intention of falling for her one-night-stand turned nasty boss.  Jude thought she was going to be lonely forever. She never expected to fall for such an uber sexy prick like Célian.

“She said a lonely heart—such as my lonely heart—would never fall in love, and so far, she wasn’t wrong. Maybe that’s why tonight happened. Maybe that’s why I’d stopped trying.”

When Célian’s virtual fangs came out along with his venomous comments, he would either cut you in half, or devour your mind, body, and soul.

“I wanted to marry Lily slightly less than I wanted to fuck a cactus on live television.”

Célian had his eye on the prize.  He was going to take the helm of his family's media company at any cost.  He trusted no one, especially with his heart.   He had a heart.  Right? Buried underneath all of Célian's savage snark he had a heart of gold.  Is he is he worthy of Jude's love?

"Every relationship you touch wilts. Every connection you make perishes. I don’t want to burn. I want to flourish. I deserve to bloom.”

Will a few too many dirty little secrets and lies keep Jude and Célian from a headline-worthy relationship?  I’ll never tell.   You need to one-click this book on 9/7.


description


About LJ Shen:
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people's’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.


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