Friday, December 9, 2016

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Heartbeats BY Sarah O'Rourke

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He’ll fight her every step of the way. She’s fighting because there is no other way to keep him alive.



Alpha FBI agent Matteo Cassano gives the orders. He is not accustomed at all to following them. The control-freak legend of the FBI could have any woman he wants, and often had in the past. But when he meets the amazing, younger Brenna Langley, he might have finally found the woman that could change his entire life.



Brenna Langley is professional, focused, and determined to move ahead in her career at the FBI.  Having tried a few failed relationships, she had decided that romance would not be in the cards for her. That was, until Matt Cassano enters her orbit and she finds herself on a secret, covert mission to save the great man from himself. 





But what happens when these two determined personalities clash and the change is more than either one of them bargained for? And when Matt’s health becomes an issue, can the fledgling relationship survive?



STANDALONE. HEA. Romantica erotica.





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Brushing a lingering kiss to the center of her now exposed porcelain skin, he lifted his eyes to hers and smiled wolfishly.  “I was just wondering if this couch is gonna provide enough room for me,” he replied as her ran two fingers down the center of her chest until they reached the clasp of her bra.



Her voice caught in her throat at his touch, and it was an effort to even get one word out. "Room to what, exactly?" she asked as her own fingers continued to release the buttons on his shirt. Feeling his lips moving against the fabric of her plain, serviceable lace bra, Bren finally freed that last button on his shirt, her sense of victory easily swallowed up in the sensations he was causing in her body. Burying her hands in the soft springy curls on his chest, she pushed the offending shirt off of his shoulders, her desire to see him too much to ignore.  “Whatcha think you’re gonna do here, Cassano?”



Catching her eyes with his, Matteo grinned against her pale flesh.  “Sweetheart, there’s no thinking to it.  I’ve imagined what I want to do to you a thousand times in a thousand different ways.  I know that I’m about to make those fantasies a reality.  I’m on the verge of devouring this beautiful body of yours.  I’m just curious as to where you’d rather serve me that meal.  Here or in a nice comfortable bed?  I’m good either place,” he returned huskily a scant moment before his teeth captured her nipple through the material of her bra.  Growling against her skin, he suddenly offered a great prayer of thanks to the brilliant genius who first imagined the possibilities of a bra with a front closing snap as his fingers quickly flicked open the clasp.



In one fell swoop, Bren felt her bra leave her body, the insubstantial material flying through the air.  If she wasn't mistaken,  she heard it land somewhere on the linoleum in the kitchen, and at some point later on she needed to remember to congratulate him on the distance he’d achieved. At this exact moment, however, that was the last thought on her mind as his wonderfully warm mouth suddenly found her waiting breast, engulfing it quickly in the fiery heat of his mouth.





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Sarah O'Rourke is the alter ego of two best friends who bonded over their passion for romantic fiction and erotica. Born and raised in the southern United States, one lives near Louisville, Kentucky, while the other resides in Atlanta, Georgia.  Formerly an accountant and a chemist, they are now overworked, stay-at-home moms who adore their children, their husbands...and writing about love in every way possible.



Inspired by their dog-eared copies of Gone with the Wind and their almost warped DVDs of Steel Magnolias, they love to write wildly intense romantic/erotica stories that have multiple characters, but they focus on one couple that will ALWAYS have a happy ending…eventually!




STALK THESE TWO CRAZIES HERE...

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TATTOOED HEARTS by CA Harms



Genre: Sports Romance


Release Date: December 13, 2016


— SYNOPSIS —



Permanent





An indefinite, everlasting and imperishable stamp.


Like a tattoo.


One that would forever be with you to remind you of a single moment in time, or a person that touched you in some way.





That was exactly what Jenny was to Sean.





And no matter how hard he tried, he could never forget the one girl who would forever have his heart.





A lifetime of friendship, shattered by one irreversible mistake.


A choice that Jenny would forever regret, but only because it pushed away the one person she truly loved.


A love so deep that they felt as if they were one.


Years passed, and still that love remained deep…stamped with an unfading ink.





When their paths cross after six years of longing, they are faced with a choice.


Forget the past and let go of the heartache…giving in to the temptation that was always there.


Or continue to torture themselves by avoiding what was always meant to be.





Tattooed Hearts of endless love…





Will it be enough or will the memories of their past create an unbreakable wedge between them.
















— PRE-ORDER —











— ABOUT THE AUTHOR —




C.A. Harms is like any other addicted reader. She enjoys happy endings and HEA love stories. She hasn't always been a lover of Romance and had once been addicted to a good Mystery. Just recently she has taken on a new liking and now is a full blown Romance novel addict.





She lives in Illinois and enjoys spending time with her husband and two children. You will always find her with her kindle or paperback in hand as it is her favorite pass time.

















Title: Clam Jam
Author: RC Boldt
Genre: Romantic Comedy/New Adult Romance
Cover Design: Letitia, RBA Designs
Release Date: January 10, 2017




Blurb


“Clam Jam”
Definition: the female equivalent of a cock block.
Example: You’re chatting with a guy you’re interested in and your friend comes along and lays claim to him.

Maggie
That’s my life—except it’s worse. My friend who keeps “jamming” me is my gay roommate and if that isn’t a W.T.F. moment, I’m not sure what is.



Fact: He went home with three—yes, three—of the guys I had been so sure were into me.



Fact: He’s really pissing me off. I mean, hello? I’m trying to get back in the saddle, but I’ll never manage to get a boyfriend before the age of fifty if he keeps this up.



Fact: Secretly, I wonder what it would be like if he weren’t gay. Why do all the hot, sweet, tender-hearted guys have to be gay?



Fact: My gay-dar needs a serious tune-up.



Ry
The day I interviewed for the room to rent, everything changed. I knew I had met “the girl”, except there was one small problem: she didn’t want anything to do with men. I recognized a top-notch force field when I saw one. She’d been burned badly and didn’t want to deal with a heterosexual guy as a roommate. I could’ve turned around and found another place to live, but I wanted to live there—with her.

So I had to go “undercover”.

Fact: I’m in love with my roommate.

Fact: I’m a likely candidate for carpal tunnel surgery since all the action I’ve had for the past year has been my hand.

Fact: She’s going to hate me if I come clean now.

Fact: I’m not giving up. Which means, I’ll just have to continue to run defense until I figure out a way to get Maggie to see the “real” me.

The me that loves her.

The me that would never do her wrong.

Until then, I’ll keep running off every guy who shows any interest.

Until then, I’ll continue to Clam Jam.




















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Excerpt


“Ryland James!” I bang on his bathroom door, hollering loudly. “Did you eat the last—”

The door swings open, drawing my speech to a sudden halt because … ooooh, sweet, dripping wet abs.

My eyes are riveted.

He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, and I don’t even realize I’m moving until Ry releases a sharp hiss at my touch. Because my finger is tracing over the slight indentations in his abdominal muscles.

“Um …” He clears his throat, his voice husky and deep. “Mags?”

“Uh-huh,” I murmur absently, my fingertip stopping one of the trickling droplets of water on his skin, tracing it down over his belly button, and—

His fingers grasp my wrist, drawing my hand to a halt, and my eyes dart up to his in alarm because crap. That was like an out-of-body experience.

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry. I just really, um … crap.” That’s all I can utter. Nonsense. No one would believe I have my graduate degree if they heard me right now.

If my tongue had a voice of its own, it would probably say something like, “Just the tip. That’s all I want.” The tip of my tongue tracing over Ry’s abs, that is. You know, just to prove someone Photoshopped him. Or not.

Because I’ll take one for the team. I’m a giver like that. People might even think of canonizing me as a saint after all this. Really.

Oh, and then … Abracadabra! Poof! He’d no longer be gay, profess his undying love for me, and wouldn’t ever leave me for another guy.

Or woman.

Wow. That scenario even sounds crazy in my head.

Shaking off my thoughts, I take one more glance down at his abs—just one more glance—and that’s when I see it.

“Oh, boy,” I breathe out. Ry is hard, tenting the towel, and I really want it to drop. Accidentally, of course. Like an “oops” moment. Totally harmless and innocent.

Oh. My. God. I’m a horrible person. I’m thinking of my roommate’s penis! My roommate who has quickly become one of my best friends.

Oh, the shame!

Where did this inner slut come from? It’s like she’s been lying in wait—for him, apparently.

But, really. I can take a little peek, right?









Author Bio



RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you're in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can't recall the lyrics to a particular 80's song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she's your girl.





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Title: The Curse of the Blue Scarab
Author: Josh Lanyon
Genre: Historical Romance & Mystery Suspense
Release Date: December 9, 2016




Blurb

Who or what is responsible for the gruesome deaths of members of the secret society known as the Order of Osiris?



Dr. Armiston, an irascible, confirmed bachelor who believes in medicine not mysticism, is certain the deaths are only tragic accidents.



The members of the Order of Osiris suspect something more sinister is at work. They profess to believe an ancient curse has been visited upon their society. Handsome and mysterious Captain Maxwell requests Armiston’s help.



Tarot cards? Egyptology? Spiritualism? Armiston has little patience with the superficial and silly pastimes of the rich, but he does love a good puzzle. Or could it be that he is more drawn to young Captain Maxwell than he wishes to admit?



Either way, Armiston must solve the secret of the cursed sarcophagus very soon, for Captain Maxwell is the next slated to die…














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Excerpt


I found the place in a quiet back street some three minutes’ walk east from Piccadilly Circus. A gilded sign in the shape of a banyan leaf hung over first-floor windows.


The Banyan was not a club, but an eating-house, with rather a special clientele. It was run by a retired quartermaster, who somehow made his little pile in India. The man spoke Persian and Burmese and worked the house with Indian servants. He catered to Anglo-Indian tastes. It was the first place I was given a spoon for my curry.

According to Maxwell, men had been known to come home cursing India and all its ways—and yet turn up at the Banyan within a month. He said he went there principally to keep up his Indian vocabulary, but the fowl-curry, the chutney, and the fruit were all excellent and well worth the visit.

Though Maxwell was not a sophisticated raconteur like Maundeville, he was good company and sincerely charming. In fact, he was disconcertingly attentive. It was quite a heady thing to have his complete and unadulterated concentration. I could see no reason for it.

“How did you happen to become a physician?” he asked curiously as I finished a long, involved story that even I could see no point to.

“My father was a doctor,” I said. “One of those good old-fashioned country doctors who shepherded his flock in and out of this life for nearly the length of his own. He was greatly loved by everyone who knew him, and I thought that would be a wonderful thing. To be able to take away pain and suffering. And to be greatly loved.”

It was the truth, but it was more than I had meant to say.

“It is a wonderful thing to be able to take away pain and suffering,” Maxwell said after a moment.

“Yes. What I failed to understand was how difficult it would be when, no matter how hard you try, you can’t manage it. Or when your best effort fails to save a life. It’s a dreadful thing to have a child die in your arms.”

Maxwell’s somber expression no doubt matched my own. I said hastily, “Happily, most of my practice amounts to lancing boils and handing out headache powders.”

He laughed. “I doubt it.”

“Oh, it’s quite true. I’m not complaining. The grand career I imagined for myself would have been contrary to my own nature. I like a quiet, comfortable life.”

He stared at the ale in his glass. “You never married?”

“No, no,” I said too heartily. “No woman would have me. Congenital bachelor, I’m afraid.”

Maxwell’s eyes flicked up. He met my gaze and offered a faint, enigmatic smile.

It was not easy—in fact, it was impossible—to get him to speak of himself. Nor did he broach the subject that had inspired this tête-à-tête until at length we settled in a quiet corner of the smoking-room.

“Now,” he said with a sort of grim cheerfulness, “we’re fortified and steadied by an excellent dinner. We shall take a common-sense view of the matter before us.”

“The matter before us?”

“Your continuing involvement in this case.”

“I’m…not sure I follow.”

“It’s quite simple. To begin with we have poor Scrymgeour and D’Aurelle. Both died suddenly, and apparently alone. You knew neither of them, but you certified one death and countenanced the certifying of the other although I believe you thought both those deaths were suspicious.”

I stared at him, unable to believe my ears.

“I believe you feel you’re partly responsible—since you certified those deaths—for the fact that there has been no further inquiry. I think, too, that you joined the Society of Osiris because of those deaths, and that you have those certificates on your conscience.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” I exclaimed. “I certified what I believed to be true.”

“Would you sign them now?” he retorted. “I know you acted honestly at the time.”

“Of what exactly are you accusing me?” I asked very coldly, very quietly.

Maxwell met my stare without flinching. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? Your interest in this matter, your involvement—”

I said, “My involvement is simply one of academic interest. You and your friend have presented me with a mystery, and I mean to solve it. That is all.”

He nodded as though satisfied, though his expression remained uncharacteristically austere. I thought his eyes held an unnatural glitter, and I prepared myself for more unpleasantness. Even so, his next words were startling.

“In thinking over those two deaths, we must consider points of difference and of similarity. Both these poor fellows were bachelors, and both had independent means.”

“You believe their deaths are connected by something other than the Mummy?”

“I do. Perhaps you don’t know where their property went?”

“Well?”

“Miss Hennessey.”

I think I gaped at him. Not at the information itself, but the fact he had essentially accused the poor girl of murder.

I said as much, though I tried to keep my tone neutral. “Then you suspect Miss Hennessey of somehow engineering their deaths?”

It was Maxwell’s turn to look astonished. “Nora? Of course not. I bring up the matter only because you’re a bachelor too, though not so well provided as they were with this world’s goods. You’re an older man also.”

I laughed. He was rude and ridiculous, but I don’t suppose he realized that—or cared. “True on all counts, I’m afraid. Furthermore, I’m an observer, not a participant in this little misadventure of yours. So if your concern is for my safety, you may rest easy. I don’t believe either Miss Hennessey or the Mummy are after me.”

“I think you should retire from the case, all the same.”

I stared. He appeared to be quite serious.

“What’s brought about this change of heart?” I inquired. “You weren’t concerned for my safety five days ago.”

“Five days ago you weren’t taking tea with Miss Hennessey or having dinner with Maundeville. I—we—didn’t then appreciate the fact that there might be risk to you.” His throat jumped as he swallowed. He looked genuinely worried. “Enough people have died, Armiston. I wouldn’t like something to happen to you on our account.”

“You and Perceval have decided this between you?”

“Er…yes.” It was such an obvious lie, I almost laughed. I was too offended to find the situation humorous, however.

“I see.”

“It’s not that we’re unappreciative.”

“No. You’ve expressed your appreciation most originally.”

His brows drew together. “We should never have dragged you into this matter. That’s the truth.”

“Possibly not. But you did—I won’t say dragged me because I joined the expedition willingly enough—invite me, and there’s no going back now.”

“Of course there is.”

I shook my head. “I told you both before that I did not need your permission to continue my investigations. Such as they are.”

He leaned forward, saying with quiet intensity, “You must stop, Quentin.”

I was so surprised he knew my Christian name it took me a moment to collect my thoughts. “Shall I tell you what I think this is?”

“I’m telling you what it is!”

I shook my head. “I believe you’ve recently learned the cards are about to be drawn again. I believe you’re convinced that this time you’ll receive the Priestess. And I believe that you’re afraid that because of my…” I didn’t quite know how to phrase it without making matters more awkward than they were. I settled on, “…respect for you, I may act rashly and come to harm.”

Even in the muted light I could see he flushed and then paled. “I don’t think any such thing.”

“I hope not. I hope you don’t think I’m such a fool.”

“I don’t. Of course I don’t.” He looked stricken.

“However great my…respect for you, I’m not a man prone to rash or incautious action. I’m not the dashing hero of a romance novel. Frankly, you would be better suited to such a role than I.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and swallowed. “I wasn’t suggesting—”

“Let’s consider the matter closed. You’ve said what you needed to say, and I’ve given you my answer.”

“Very well,” he said stiffly.
 
Shortly after, Maxwell and I parted. I think he couldn’t escape fast enough.











Author Bio




Bestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called "arguably the single most influential voice in m/m romance today."

Her work has been translated into nine languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. The Adrien English series was awarded the 2nd Annual All Time Favorite Male Male Couple by the Goodreads M/M Group. Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.

Josh is married and lives in Southern California.





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God of Wine
Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. #3
By: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Released Nov 25th, 2016
Self-Published
 
Blurb
From New York Times Bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff…
Book #3 of the Immortal Matchmakers Inc. Series. (Standalone)
CAN ROCK-HARD ABS SAVE THE WORLD? HE SURE THINKS SO
Acan, the God of Wine and Intoxication, has been partying for over ten thousand years. And
New Year’s Eve, when humans around the world succumb to his naturally occurring spike in
powers, is his big night. Only this year, things are bit different.
A plague is sweeping the immortal community, and he’s turning downright evil. All those New
Year’s bashes will turn into bloodbaths if he doesn’t stop it. Sadly, the only known cure is finding
a mate, and he is a giant, rude, beer-bellied mess. Definitely not husband material.
But can a little gym-time and help from the pros at Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. turn him into a
divine sex-machine? Absolutely!
So watch out, ladies! The God of Wine is lookin’ for love. And he has absolutely no clue
what he’s doing.
 
Excerpt #1
Acan, God of Wine and Intoxication, entered the upscale fitness club that boasted some of LA’s
tightest asses with one thing and one thing only on his mind: Sweet. Fucking. Revenge.
“Fucking human.” His eyes scanned the ocean of disgustingly healthy people, all tanned,
glowing, and annoyingly perky for five a.m. I want to end them all. Starting with the woman from
last night. Because of her—one lowly human—he had been unable to partake in his usual one
hundred tequila shots and fifty beers or “accidentally” burn down the posh Santa Monica hotel
with one of his legendary, crowd-pleasing, exploding mojitos. All because of a random woman
he’d met in the hotel elevator whilst in transit to last night’s rooftop party. He’d said, “Hiya,” paid
her a “compliment” and then invited her to the event. She’d shockingly said, “Fuck off,” more or
less. So he’d said, “Fuck off back, you old bag.” She’d said, “Shove it and come to my gym so
we can see who’s really old.”
You! You are, you wilted vag. Yeah. That’s right! She was some disgusting fitness-freak mortal
who spent her days denying the truth: she would grow old, her beauty would fade, and her little
lady “flower” would wither and die like an old tomato.
Yet she had the gall to metaphorically slap his perfectly bronzed cheek and challenge him to a
fitness duel? Simply because he’d complimented her by saying she had nice tits or something
like that? (Honestly, he couldn’t remember.) But nooo… She’d turned her nose up at him in the
elevator. So what if he hadn’t been wearing any pants! Or underwear. Honest mistake.
What a fuzzy cunt! With his horribly clear vision, due to the lack of alcohol, Acan zeroed right in
on the blonde woman in her forties as she did squats and hip thrusts inside the fishbowl
aerobics room.
“There you are…” His growl faded into the background as she raised her toned arms above her
head, clapping her hands, laughing and “wooing” with the other fitness hags in the room. Acan
suddenly felt his heart beating so hard that his knees began to knock. His breath stuck in his
lungs, and his eyes didn’t seem to want to move away. She is so…radiant. So lively. Her lovely
creamy skin, pert nose, and beaming smile reminded him of an angel. With really nice jugs. And
something about the woman’s tight, tight ass and long legs made him feel a little tingly.
What? No. I can’t stand her. Must be the lack of tequila in my system, making me all crazy.
Being sober was awful.
“Hey, dude. No offense, but that’s pretty fucked up,” said a male voice.
Acan looked down—way, waaay down since he was over seven feet tall—at the stumpy little
weight-lifter dude with bleach blond hair, wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top.
“What?” Acan pushed his snarled brown hair from his eyes, but it wouldn’t move. Why is my hair
so sticky? Was it always like this?
Stumpy dude’s eyes flashed to Acan’s groin. “Pants, man. Pants. I mean, yeah, that’s a huge
shlong, but there’s a time and a place to impress the ladies. Yunnooo?”
Acan looked at his lower extremities. “Hell.” He’d forgotten his pants. Again. And his fucking
underwear. Again.
That’s the fifteenth time this week! I think. Either way, going to kill Jill, he thought. Jill, his full-
time assistant slash deity-nanny, was supposed to make sure he didn’t go out the door showing
off the man-gear anymore. Of course, it was now five in the morning, and she was never on
duty this early because he was never awake before noon unless on his way to bed after
partying all night, which was almost every night. Jill didn’t usually get in until—well, he didn’t
really know. He was passed out most of the time.
It’s a tough job being the party god, but someone’s got to do it.
Acan jerked his head, playing it cool. “Thanks, dude.” He turned to leave, wondering how he’d
arrived to the gym naked. Uber? Chauffeur? Battery-powered kiddie tank?
Gods, I hope I didn’t ride my bike. That seat was the worst on his bare balls.
“Hey!” an angry female voice called out.
Acan turned. Dammit all to hell. It was her. The giant CrossFit fuzzy cunt. Okay, she was hot
and all vivacious and whatnot. But so? She was rude! And she didn’t know her place in this
world. He was a god, a force to be feared and…well, to have fun with. After all, he was the
embodiment of festive excess.
“You showed up. I didn’t expect…” Her voice faded as she realized he was down a pair of pants
(and underpants) and up one man—involuntarily, of course. “I didn’t expect to see your penis.”
She swallowed and made a disgusted face. “Erect.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What? Never seen a god before?”
“If you’re referring to a beer-bellied slob reeking of stale beer, who’s standing nude and aroused
in the middle of my gym, then no. I’ve never seen a god.”
“Boom!” He threw up his arms, making eagle talons with his fingers. “Well, now you have.” He
turned and strutted from the gym with his head held high. Godsdammit. I gotta get a drink.
~~~
 
Link to Follow Tour: http://tastybooktours.com/tours-master/2016/11/3/god- of-wine- immortal-
matchmakers-inc- 3-by- mimi-jean- pamfiloff
Goodreads Series Link https://www.goodreads.com/series/161224-immortal- matchmakers-inc
Buy Links:     AMAZON | B & N | ITUNES | KOBO
AMAZON CANADA: https://goo.gl/oB83ic
 
 
Author Info
 
 
MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF is a USA Today and New York Times bestselling romance author.
Although she obtained her MBA and worked for more than fifteen years in the corporate world,
she believes that it’s never too late to come out of the romance closet and follow your dream.
Mimi lives with her Latin Lover hubby, two pirates-in- training (their boys), and the rat terrier duo,
Snowflake and Mini Me, in Arizona. She hopes to make you laugh when you need it most and
continues to pray daily that leather pants will make a big comeback for men
 
Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
 
Rafflecopter Giveaway (Prizes: 5 Winners. 2 winners will receive IMI Bumpersticker +
Post it + God of Wine paperback, bookmark and magnet. 3 Winners will receive God of
Wine paperback, bookmark and magnet.)
 
 










Title: Like A Boss: A Motivational Coloring Book
Author: Jennifer Ryder
Genre: Art Therapy/Self-Help/Coloring Books
Cover & Illustrations: Jessica Hildreth, Love N. Books
Release Date: December 9, 2016





Blurb


Like A Boss: A Motivational Coloring Book by Jennifer Ryder
Mantras to live and color by for women and girls.



A collection of 22 motivational mantras and a mix of designs to inspire the boss in each of us.

Let the positive messages sink in and the stress melt away as you unwind and bring each page to life.




LIKE A BOSS comes with a test page and each design has space at the spine, is blank on the reverse side, making it perfect for easy removal and framing of your favorite designs.













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AMAZON US / UK / CA












Author Bio



Jennifer Ryder is a bestselling contemporary romance author based on a rural property outside of Canberra. Jennifer is all about spreading positivity and finding that inner calm.



Check out www.jenniferryder.com for information on her Aussie based romance novels and upcoming adult colouring books.





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Title: The Bartender
Series: Modern Love #1
Author: Piper Rayne
Genre: New Adult Romance
Cover Design: Djordje Grbic
Release Date: February 1, 2017




Blurb


Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun? 



Was the one night stand a good idea?
Well, no. Probably not in retrospect.



In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead.



So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it!



Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way.



I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.















Author Bio



Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two established authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?


We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.

What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.





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