Sunday, August 31, 2014

BLOG TOUR: Beneath The Stain by Amy Lane SPOTLIGHT




Beneath The Stain
by Amy Lane

Blurb: 
In a town as small as Tyson, CA, everybody knew the four brothers with the four different fathers-- and their penchant for making good music when they weren't getting into trouble. For Mackey Sanders, playing in Outbreak Monkey with his brothers and their friends—especially Grant Adams--made Tyson bearable. But Grant has plans for getting Mackey and the Sanders boys out of Tyson, even if that means staying behind.

Between the heartbreak of leaving Grant and the terrifying, glamorous life of rock stardom, Mackey is adrift and sinking fast. When he's hit rock bottom, Trav Ford shows up, courtesy of their record company and a producer who wants to see what Mackey can do if he doesn't flame out first. But cleaning up his act means coming clean about Grant, and that's not easy to do or say. Mackey might make it with Trav's help--but Trav's not sure he's going to survive falling in love with Mackey.

Mackey James Sanders comes with a whole lot of messy, painful baggage, and law-and-order Trav doesn't do messy or painful. And just when Trav thinks they may have mastered every demon in Mackey's past, the biggest, baddest demon of all comes knocking.



Available to pre-order at





Release Date:
August 29, 2014

Five Ways to Buy 

Option 1: Serial Package 
  • Automatically get each part with special content on your bookshelf as it is released and the digital novel upon release. Serial runs 8/29/14-10/10/14. Novel releases 10/17/14. 
  • $12.99. This option only available through dreamspinnerpress.com


Option 2: Serial Deluxe Package 
  • Automatically get each part with special content on your bookshelf as it is released and the digital novel upon release. Serial runs 8/29/14-10/10/14. Novel releases 10/17/14. 
  • Also received a signed paperback mailed to you upon novel release. 
  • $24.99 +shipping. This option only available through dreamspinnerpress.com


Options 3: Serial Only (7 parts) 
  • Buy individual parts with special content weekly for $1.99. Serial runs 8/29/14-10/10/14. 


Options 4 & 5: Novel 
  • Purchase the complete novel in eBook or paperback, no special content included. Pre-sales begin 9/17/14. Novel releases 10/17/14. 
  • eBook $6.99, paperback $17.99 
  • Upon complete novel release, the serial will no longer be available.



Excerpt

You Can’t Always Get What
You Want
... from the Mighty Hunter Gazette— April
20

And special news, our very own
homegrown band, Outbreak Monkey, will be performing a six- song set between D.J. Boomer’s dance
music at the Graham Winters High School prom. The band, headed by McKay
“Mackey” Sanders on lead vocals, Jeff Sanders on bass and their brother
Kell Sanders on lead guitar, also features Grant Adams on second lead and
Stevie Harris on drum set. All members are Graham Winters High School students
and we are proud to have them play!

THE FIRST time
McKay Sanders kissed his brother’s best friend, Grant, they were getting
high in a burned-out car in the field behind Mackey’s apartment
building. Kellogg, who looked old enough to buy even though he’d just
turned eighteen, had spent ten dollars the brothers didn't have on cheap
Muscat. By the time Grant—whose father had money—brought out the pot, Kellogg,
Jefferson, and Stevie were passed out on the old camp blanket Stevie had
brought from his dad’s garage.

It was a celebration, of
sorts, for landing the prom gig.

The older kids had hogged
all the Muscat, though, and Mackey felt left out. Kellogg kept saying it wasn't right to get his little brother drunk, and Mackey kept saying it wasn't right to drink in front of him, but by the time Kellogg was too drunk to
argue, there wasn't any wine left.
Jefferson and Stevie had
finished off the other bottle all by themselves—just sitting quietly, not
making any waves like they usually did, passing the bottle between them.

“Boy, you two argue a
lot,” Grant said after Kell let out a gut-buster of a yawn and fell asleep
quick as a baby.

Mackey grunted and
prodded at his older brother with his toe. The three brothers present looked
nothing alike. Kell was built like a tank, with rounded shoulders, a brown-eyed
glare, and plain brown hair that he buzz- cut short to his scalp. He was like
born practicality, which was why hoarding the wine rankled Mackey so badly. An
expenditure like that wasn't going to happen again.

“He gets mad,” Mackey
said, letting out a sigh. He slouched back inside the shelter of the car,
peering through the doorframe at the iron gray sky. “He’s the one who
takes care of us, you know? But not in the band.”

It was true.

Kell could play guitar
ably enough, but Mackey....

“You can play
everything,” Grant said with admiration. “You’re the one who puts the
songs together, figures out who should be playing what. And the shit you
write on your own....”

Mackey smiled at him a
little shyly. Grant had the most interesting face, with a long, straight nose,
full pink lips, and almond-shaped hazel eyes. When Grant looked at him with
admiration, it stopped his breath and pulled rubber bands in his stomach.
“I just....” He stopped because Grant was reaching into his pocket, and he
pulled out a baggie full of weed and papers. “Ooh....”

Grant looked down at the
other three, who were sleeping soundly in the late afternoon chill. “I was
gonna share,” he said mischievously, “but Kell was a dick about the wine, so I
thought you and me?” Mackey nodded, captivated by the thrill of the
forbidden—and by the way that cherry-ripe mouth pulled up at the corners when
Grant smiled.

“I've never, uhm....”

Grant shrugged. “Me and
Kell do sometimes. But, you know, Kell’s usually a good guy.”

Mackey reflected on his
sleeping brother. Kell was a good guy. For example, Mackey had a confused memory of their
youngest brother Cheever’s dad, the one dad they thought would stick
around beyond giving the baby a first name. Cheever’s dad hadn't been very
patient, and he’d hated Mackey. Well, Mackey was sort of a smartass. He’d probably had that fist coming. But that hadn't stopped Kell from stepping up and hitting Enos Cheever right back.
Mackey and Kell had both needed stitches after that, but their mom had kicked
Enos Cheever out—child support or no child support. That was okay. Kell and
Jeff had been almost old enough to work by then. They’d only needed
assistance for a couple of months.

“He doesn't like it that
I can boss him around,” Mackey said glumly. “He... he’s the leader, right?
But... but I hear the music, and it just makes sense, you know? And... and
you can’t do it wrong just ’cause it’ll hurt Kell’s feelings. It’s augh!” He was waving his hands
around, trying to find words, which was funny, because Mackey actually wrote songs. He
closed his eyes, ignoring Grant rolling a number, and tried to make a song out
of it.

“He wants to keep me
happy and he wants to keep me fed, he makes sure that I've got
blankets and a place to sleep in a bed, but the music in my heart is like a
freight train. It goes and it goes and when I stop it, it’s like pain, but my
brother doesn't see it doesn't hear it doesn't feel it, and all there is to do is shove him out of the way. Don’t want to hit my brother with the
freight train.”

Mackey’s eyes smarted,
because the friction with Kell hurt. They were tight. They had to be tight, because
Tyson, California, had a population of ten thousand, and it was a small enough
town that the woman with the four sons and four fathers was sort of famous.
They had to have each other’s backs or Cheever wouldn't have survived kindergarten.

Mackey blinked and took a
deep breath, then coughed.

Damn, pot was strong.

He gazed at Grant, who
was staring back in awe over the glowing ember of the joint. Grant held the
smoke for a minute and exhaled,shaking his head. “God, it’s gorgeous when you
do that,” he said, his voice choked.

“Do what?” Mackey asked,
not able to stop staring at him.

“Pull music out of the
air,” Grant said, the dreamy smile on his full lips maybe a side effect of
the pot, but maybe not. Grant was sitting in the back of the car, his feet
at the foot of the blanket the others were sleeping on. He passed Mackey the doobie
around the doorframe, and Mackey regarded the joint with a little bit of fear.

“Just inhale?” he asked
nervously, and Grant grinned.

“Never done this before?”
he confirmed, taking the doobie back.

Mackey shook his head,
knowing his face was flushing in spite of the iron mountain chill.

“Here,” Grant murmured,
taking another hit. He stood up, still holding the smoke in his lungs, and
knelt in front of Mackey, so close their lips almost brushed. Mackey’s
mouth fell open, because, holy God, Grant was right there, and
Mackey had been trying not to look at him like he had wanted him right there since
he was twelve years old.

Grant took his open mouth
for invitation and exhaled, right between Mackey’s parted lips.

Mackey’s inhale was so
gentle, the smoke hardly tickled. He didn't choke or cough like he’d seen other
people do, just breathed in subtle-like, afraid to startle Grant or make
him move in any way. His exhale was even quieter, letting the smoke trickle out
through his lips and his nose, where it stung.

He swallowed, his mouth
dry from the smoke and from the way Grant was staring at him, seemingly as
mesmerized as he was by those golden eyes and moist red mouth. “How’s
Sam?” he asked, because Samantha Peters had been Grant’s shadow for the
past year.

“Not here,” Grant
whispered, and the movement made their lips touch.

Mackey closed his eyes,
because Grant started this, and Mackey was fourteen to his seventeen. Grant
would know what to do.

Grant’s lips on his were
whisper-soft, then angel-soft, then Grant’s tongue swept into
his mouth, acrid with the bitter taste of weed, but something in it was sweet.
Something in it made Mackey open his mouth to beg for more.

Grant took advantage,
pushing him back against the seat, taking his mouth more, and more and more,
until Mackey was pressed against the burned-out seat frame, his hands
buried in the thick top strip of Grant’s hair, his lips being bruised and his
mouth plundered by his brother’s best friend.

The smell of pot smoke
sharpened, turned plastic, and Grant jerked his head back.

“Shit,” he muttered. The
joint had fallen onto the blanket at their feet, and he spent a moment stomping
it out as it smoldered. When he’d killed the ember, he glanced at Mackey
sheepishly.
“Got lost in your eyes,”
he said, and Mackey watched curiously as two red crescents surfaced on his
sharp cheekbones, like disappearing ink coming to life.

“I could get lost in you
a lot,” Mackey confessed, feeling brave and bold, and Grant found
something to look at far away.

“Mackey, maybe don’t
count on me like that, okay?”

Mackey had to search far
away too. Well, of course, right? Two guys get high and they do something
crazy—didn't mean shit, did it.

Didn’t mean a goddamned
thing. “Yeah, well. You know. Strong weed, right?”

“Yeah,” Grant murmured.
“Strong.” His hand was firm on Mackey’s shoulder then, and Mackey closed his
eyes as he felt the rasp of Grant’s chilled palm against his cheek. “Stronger’n
shame.”

Mackey had to. Had to see
his face.

Grant was blinking hard, and
they both knew he’d deny it, but one hit of pot didn't give you eyeballs that
red.

At their feet, Kell gave
a moan and rolled over, and that was the cue for everyone to wake up. They were
headachy and sick, and it was lucky Grant had brought a six-pack of water, of
all things, so they could at least rinse out their mouths after they puked.

Grant had driven them out
to the vacant field in his mom’s minivan, and later that evening, he
stopped and let them run inside the grocery store to buy noodles and spaghetti
sauce for dinner. They’d promised their mom they’d take care of groceries if
she let them get away with not watching Cheever for the afternoon. When they
got to the Sanders boys’ apartment complex, Grant and Kell were giving
each other shit in the front seat. Mackey stared out the window and let their
banter wash over him, just like he ignored Jefferson and Stevie talking in
quiet undertones about comic books and naked girl pictures. Jeff and Kell had
best friends. Mackey had brothers—six of them, if he counted Cheever’s
little friend Kevin, which he did.

“So, is Sam excited you
get to play at the prom?” Kell asked, laughing.

“Yeah,” Grant said. For a
moment, he caught Mackey’s gaze in the rearview, and then he glanced back
toward the road. “She wants to dress pretty and dance with me in a suit.”

Mackey didn't make a
noise or anything, but suddenly he knew, knew like it had been branded on his skin, that Grant didn't want to dance with a girl in a dress. And that it
would hurt worse than orange juice on chapped lips, but Mackey was going to
have to watch him do it. 


About The Author
Amy Lane has four children, two cats, a love starved Chi-who-what, a crumbling mortgage and an indulgent spouse. She also has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and m/m romance--and if you give her enough diet coke and chocolate, she'll bore you to tears with why those three genres go together. She'll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.

You can can find Amy at 
            






 Giveaway

Swag Packets (5 winners will be selected)
First Installment of Beneath The Stain (2 winners will be selected)
All Seven Installments of Beneath The Stain (1 winner will be selected)




Presented by 


BLOG TOUR: All Roads Lead To Menage by Ashley Beckem



All Roads Lead To Menage 

by Ashley Beckem


A couples journey into sexual exploration together.
For years Jeff has been talking about having a threesome. The thought of this left his wife Holly fearing the worst. Believing her husband wanted another woman or worse; a divorce. Holly tests the waters by sharing a fantasy of her own. Seeing how turned on Jeff gets she decides to continue on this new found sexual exploration. Together they explore and test the boundaries of their relationship.
In time she discovers her husband greatest fantasy just might be hers too.





Meet Ashley

Ashley Beckem grew up in the frigid northern part of Chicago. At the tender age of eighteen moved to South West Florida for college. Ashley is presently chasing after an elusive MBA. Current hobbies include spending reckless amount of time on the beach, boating with friends, and loves being active (biking, golf, running, or tennis). Ashley is never far from the trusted Galaxy to keep in touch.



Saturday, August 30, 2014

BLOG TOUR: Five Weeks by Dannika Dark SPOTLIGHT


Five Weeks
(Seven Series, Bk #3)
By Dannika Dark 

Blurb:
Izzy has always loved the freedom and adventure of life on the road, but she’s recently decided to settle down—as much as a rogue wolf can. When her boyfriend gets her a job working at a hot Shifter bar, she runs into the last person on earth she expected to see again.

Jericho isn't the famous rock star he once was, though he still plays in a local band and loves to party. Beautiful women come and go, but music is his only passion—until a sassy redhead named Isabelle Monroe shows up unexpectedly.

Fate reunites two former friends living with one foot in the present and the other in the past. But will they have a future when one of them is forced to choose between life and death? Old habits die hard, and sometimes the toughest addictions to shake are the ones that control our hearts.





Available for purchase at 



      

Excerpt


As the men dispersed, a warm feeling slid over my body when I looked up at Jericho. His eyes were hooded and low, but when he melted me with a possessive gaze, my feet cemented to the floor.

He moved toward me with the grace of a panther—slow and predatory. The external noise from the bar faded away, and all I heard were his silken words as he caressed the ends of my hair, looking at it between his fingers.

“You haven’t changed,” he said in quiet words.

“What do you mean by that?”

Jericho bent down and his mouth brushed against my ear. “Still sexy as sin and making me protect you.”

Goose bumps erupted over my arms. “No one said you had to protect me. I’m not the shy girl you once knew.” My heart raced. The inflection in my tone wasn't as harsh as I’d planned it to be, my words breathy and unsure.

His warm body pressed against mine and when I stepped back, I bumped into a wooden post that pinned me to him. Tingles raced through my body uncontrollably, and I lost the ability to think rationally when I smelled his cologne. Men never had this kind of effect on me. His power slid down my body like hands against my naked flesh.

Jericho had a smile that aroused, and combined with his voice, it became an aphrodisiac.

Or maybe it was the way his callused fingers lightly stroked the back of my neck, as if I were an instrument. As he played me, memories flooded my mind, and I shoved him away, panting and trembling.

Jericho worked his jaw in a frustrated manner, his brows slanting down with a look of disbelief. He shook his head and then backed up.

A brunette appeared out of nowhere in a revealing top that displayed her breasts like cookies in a bakery: warm, tempting, and something you’d regret later.

“How’s my sexy man?” she asked, tucking her fingers possessively in his jeans and nipping on his arm. “You want to go have some fun?”

His eyes stayed locked on mine as he circled his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She moaned playfully as he squeezed her hip, testing if I had my temper under control.

So I played his game.

“Can I get you a drink, honey?” I asked her. “Maybe some milk in a dish?”

Sometimes I could spot the cats. It was all in the purr and the way they slinked their bodies.

“No, thanks,” she replied. “I have something else in mind I want to put in my mouth.”

When she stroked his crotch, I blinked in surprise. Not just because she had the audacity to do that in front of me, but the fact that Jericho tilted his head and gave me a “so what?” look.

So what?

Maybe he was right. All that connected us were five amazing years, and that was a lifetime ago. Seeing him made me raw again. Those feelings caught up with me like a shadow that had never let go. Part of me wanted to squeeze him tight and tell him how much I’d missed him—because I had. Jericho had shown me the private side of himself he never gave to others, and I’d done the same for him. Another part of me wanted to hate him for the anguish he’d put me through. And yet, I couldn't help but feel elated knowing that despite his insolence, Jericho wasn't lying in a grave as I’d imagined. He’d somehow assembled his life into something meaningful and gotten a grip on his demons.

Meanwhile, my demons were currently on the rampage and waving pitchforks.

So I said cutting words that hurt because I meant them, and yet I didn't.

“I wish I’d never met you.”







About the Author


This is the segment where you learn a little more about who I am, so here's what I can tell you:  I drink copious amounts of vitamin water placed precariously close to my laptop while writing. These are two healthy habits I have no intention of breaking. I'm a transplant living in the south, but I was born in the 70's to a military dad who moved us around the world.

When I'm not writing (which is all the time), I'm hunting down Indie music, watching movies, reading, eating Tex-Mex, discovering new ways to humiliate myself bowling, and burning up my laptop battery on the Internet. I have a relaxed, easy-going personality and don't like drama. I live with a cat who thinks she is a dog, or a goat (she eats plastic, so I'm not sure which).

Throughout my life, I've had insomnia. Counting sheep never worked and eventually I would imagine those sheep were the sole source of food after an apocalyptic battle where only thousands survived. I made up stories in a futile attempt to bore myself to sleep. The problem was, I got so wrapped up in my "head stories" that I would continue them through the following nights, changing it up each time to make it more exciting. Eventually, I started writing my ideas down - creating short stories, and then I discovered my love for poetry.

It's almost embarrassing how many spiral notebooks and stacks of paper I have of poetry and lyrics.

Another passion: digital art. I design all my book covers, marketing, and series art. I'm a very visual person and pursued photography as an avid hobby for many years.

I am not a YA author (I feel like I have to state this only because I've had a few people ask), but I think it's wonderful there are so many books available to teens in Urban Fantasy and Paranormal.

I am finally doing what I have always wanted to do: giving my characters a pulse through writing full time. I focus on adult urban fantasy romance, but I don't like labels and I enjoy blending genres to break out of the confines of predictability.

But it's what I love to do.

Danni

You can stalk, I mean find Dannika here: 

            

Presented by 


Friday, August 29, 2014

BLOG TOUR: One Day Soon by Edie Hart SPOTLIGHT





One Day Soon

by Edie Hart

Genre: Romance

Tour Organizer: N K Author Services





After Lexi witnesses a murder, she becomes a target for a cold-blooded killer.  Will Burg, the detective assigned to her case, be able to keep her safe? 
While checking out a house for a showing, realtor Alexandria Edwards stumbles upon a savage slaying. Now witness to a murder, she soon becomes the target of a cold-blooded killer.
Jonathan Burgess,, Lexi’s brother’s best friend, is the detective assigned to protect the sexy blonde. Burg has always thought of Lexi as a little sister, but seeing her all grown up has turned his innocent thoughts into forbidden fantasies. Will Burg be able to keep Lexi safe while also keeping his growing feelings for her in check?


Edie Hart was born in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago, where she now resides with her husband, two children, dog, and three cats. After spending her childhood making up stories in her head, she finally decided to put them on paper. What came of it was her first novella, One Bad Day.

Edie also admits that "Edie Hart" is a pen name and an alter ego to an otherwise boring wife and mother. Edie is 20 pounds lighter, loves to skydive, travels to foreign places, and is a total sex kitten as compared to the uninteresting other half who is none of those things.

In reality the other half of Edie is a lackluster 40-something-year-old, whose main goal is to keep The Big One (The Boy) from torturing The Little One (The Girl). This week he hit her in the head with a 12-pack of Juicy Juice. Last week he left ravioli handprints on the back of her white T-shirt. The week before that he told her she was adopted and she believed him.

Edie is a die-hard romantic and believes that everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally—both in print and real life.

Grab Book 1 in the Series


After doing a favor for her boss, Tessa ends up being a mistaken target and falling for the sexy cop determined to keep her safe.

Tessa is having one seriously bad day. After agreeing to dress as a cheesy mascot at a convention for her boss, her clothes get stolen, she gets chased through a sinister parking garage, and her apartment gets broken into and turned upside down. 

Gray, an off-duty police officer, can't resist the sexy legs he sees in costume at a hotel convention. When he catches sight of her running for her life through a dark car lot, he's determined to find out what her story is and ends up promising to keep Tessa safe...even if that means taking her home with him.


Meet Edie


Edie Hart was born in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago, where she now resides with her husband, two children, dog, and three cats. After spending her childhood making up stories in her head, she finally decided to put them on paper. What came of it was her first novella, One Bad Day. Edie is a die-hard romantic and believes that everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally--both in print and real life.
Edie also admits that "Edie Hart" is a pen name and an alter ego to an otherwise boring wife and mother. Edie is 20 pounds lighter, loves to skydive, travels to foreign places, and is a total sex kitten as compared to the uninteresting other half who is none of those things.
In reality the counterpart of Edie is a lackluster 40-something-year-old, whose main goal is to keep The Big One (The Boy) from torturing The Little One (The Girl). This week he hit her in the head with a 12-pack of Juicy Juice. Last week he left ravioli handprints on the back of her white T-shirt. The week before that he told her she was adopted and she believed him.
To learn more about her, and find out what The Big One and The Little One are up to, visit her via her website www.ediehart.com.