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Saturday, April 29, 2023
This OR That #Giveaway № 102 ~ For Internal Use Only by Cari Kamm OR Whoever You Are by Donna Marie Lanheady #ForInternalUseOnly #WhoeverYouAre
Thursday, April 27, 2023
Book Blitz! Stars Like Gasoline by Jessika Grewe Glover ~ Excerpt and #Giveaway! #StarsLikeGasoline @jessikamittens @XpressoTours
Stars Like Gasoline by Jessika Grewe Glover
Publication date: April 24th 2023
Genres: Adult, Thriller
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Excerpt
“The blisters hurt like the devil when the water hit them, and the open sores on my ankles were screaming demons at me. The night was the kind of heat the air conditioning doesn’t quite hold the upper hand over. Every window was fogged over with moisture. A 2019 Kikumoto painting with no title was a rare find indeed. If I could only get the release for the other piece I’d found, I could bet the gala would draw art dealers and patrons from much farther than our usual guests. Strange that the Cesar acquisition had come from Fort Pierce. While it had a small arts community, the town just south of us wasn’t known for the careful upper-middle-class and bourgeois lifestyle of Vero Beach. Maybe I was tired, but it felt like I was missing vital puzzle pieces here. An anonymous donation of a huge Cesar collection, Kikumotos appearing out of nowhere, seemingly belonging to no one, and a Cesar having once been in my house but now missing.
Cabinet doors slammed in the kitchen, and a thump preceded the sound of running water. I jumped in my seat, leaving my laptop open on the small writing desk, which sat facing the front window. Goosebumps ran a race up my legs and arms, chilling every inch of me. Clenched fingers opened and closed over my phone. Screw it. I texted Oscar.
Something is in here. Don’t call Adrian. If you’re already home, no worries. Just letting you know.
As I raised my eyes from the phone screen, a reflection caught in the fogged window. Silhouetted against the arcing bougainvillea was a man, standing directly behind me. The chair crashed to the floor as I stood like a jack-in-the-box. An icy touch reached out. I grabbed at the salt from the windowsill and tossed it at the shape, watching as the aberration in the room broke apart momentarily. A Spode Blue Italian salt bowl sat on the corner of the black spindle-legged desk. I cupped my fingers into the salt granules, pulled a handful, and spun in a quick circle, entrapping myself within the purported protection circle. I chanted an old Wiccan protection spell I’d found in an eighteenth-century grimoire in Boston and watched the spirit come closer and closer to the circle.
“Elements of Day,
Rays of Sun,
Hear what I say
“Goddess of Night,
Strength of Other,
Goddess of Light,
Protection of Mother.”
Jessika Grewe Glover is the author of Another Beast’s Skin, the first book in a contemporary fantasy trilogy. She grew up in Miami dreaming of magic and other realms in which to escape the heat. She currently resides in the Los Angeles area with her British expat husband, two kids, and the world’s fastest bulldog.
Connect with Jessika
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Wednesday, April 26, 2023
Book Blitz! Return to Hummingbird Way by Reese Ryan ~ Excerpt and #Giveaway! #ReturnToHummingbirdWay @ReeseRyanWrites @XpressoTours
Return to Hummingbird Way by Reese Ryan
Publication date: April 25th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble
iBooks | Kobo | Google Play
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Excerpt
“Garrett Davenport, how very nice of you to finally show up.” Sinclair sashayed toward him, clutching a clear clipboard decorated with a colorful floral design.
Sinclair assessed him with disdain, flecks of green and gold dancing in those large hazel eyes he’d been mesmerized by from the first moment he’d laid eyes on them in high school. She pursed her glossy pink lips, her nostrils flaring, and planted a fist on one curvy hip.
The bossy little she-devil was infuriating, attitudish, and fucking gorgeous. And she damn well knew it.
Her floral, sleeveless dress showed off her toned arms and sculpted shoulders—a feature he’d never noticed on a woman before, let alone been attracted to. The hem of the flirty little skirt grazed her midthigh, accentuating her tawny brown skin, a shade that landed smack between her father’s dark brown skin and her mother’s olive skin tone.
Sinclair flipped her hair, a deep, rich brown highlighted with ribbons of honey blond, over one shoulder and ran her manicured nails through the waterfall of shoulder-length waves. Her gaze bore into him, and if looks could kill, he’d be lying on the floor stone cold.
“You do realize you’re an hour late to your own best friend’s engagement party.” She leaned into him, speaking in a harsh whisper that only he could hear. “You sure you gon’ be able to show up for the wedding on time?”
Her nasally voice reminded him of Whitley Gilbert’s from A Different World. And just a few minutes into the conversation, she’d already intimated that he was an unreliable slacker. Rett clenched his jaw. Yet, as annoyed as he was, he couldn’t help noticing how hot Sin looked tonight.
“Sorry I’m late,” Rett finally managed. He shoved his hands, balled into fists, into his pockets. “Something came up.”
Sinclair’s gaze dropped to the placket in front of his zipper momentarily. Her eyes widened and her cheeks and forehead flushed. She quickly returned her attention to the clipboard.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t forget their previous encounter.
“It’s always some excuse with you, Rett.” Sinclair wrapped her arms around the clipboard, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his.
Was she clutching the clipboard because he made her nervous? Or was she shielding her body’s reaction after shamelessly ogling him two minutes into their conversation?
It didn’t matter. Because Sinclair Buchanan was as irritating now as she’d been when they’d been forced to hang out together while Dexter and Dakota had dated in high school. She seemed to hate him on sight back then. But he hadn’t helped matters when he’d tried to talk his cousin out of getting serious with Sin’s best friend.
When Dex had suddenly ended things with Dakota the Christmas after he’d left for college, Sinclair had confronted Rett outside his grandmother’s house. She’d been as mad as a hornet and had cussed him out six ways to Sunday—sure he’d been behind the breakup.
He hadn’t been. But he hadn’t bothered telling her so. Besides, as distraught as she’d been, he’d doubted Sinclair would’ve believed a single word he’d said.
Since Dexter and Dakota’s reconciliation, Sinclair must surely have learned the truth: he had nothing to do with Dexter and Dakota’s breakup back then. In fact, he’d been as shocked by it as anyone. But evidently, it didn’t matter, because Sinclair clearly still wasn’t a fan. Though she certainly had been that night in his hotel room, given the enthusiasm with which she’d called his name and the marks she’d left on his back.
“It’s not an excuse, Sin. I planned to be here on time, but I was sidetracked by—”
“Didn’t think you were going to make it.” Dexter approached, holding Dakota’s hand. The two of them looked ridiculously happy, and Rett felt a slight twinge of envy.
“And miss your engagement party?” Rett slapped palms and clasped hands with Dex. “No way, cuz. Been waiting half my life to see you finally tie the knot with this beautiful lady.” He turned toward his cousin’s soon-to-be better half. “Congrats, Dakota.”
“Thank you, Rett.” Dakota’s grin lit her brown eyes. She gave him a big hug. “And for the record, I knew you’d be here tonight. It was these two who were sweating it.” She gestured toward Dex and Sinclair, then glanced around the room. “Mama Mae didn’t come with you?”
“She’s sick and didn’t much appreciate me fussing over her,” Rett said.
“But you did anyway.” Dakota smiled. “The relationship you two have is adorable.”
“’Cause Mama Mae is the only woman who can get him to behave,” Sinclair muttered as she scanned her clipboard. When they all turned to look at her, Sin looked up and shrugged. “What? You know it’s true.”
“Be nice, Sin.” Dakota pointed a finger at her best friend. “You promised you two would get along.”
“Fine.” She flashed Rett a dead-eyed smile and turned up the Whitley Gilbert singsong southern belle voice. “We are so very glad that you could join us this evening, Garrett. I was just about to ask the staff to take the food away. So please make yourself a plate.” She batted her long, thick eyelashes. “In fact, why don’t I escort you to the buffet?”
Dexter and Dakota snickered, and Rett couldn’t help chuckling to himself.
That was as warm a greeting as he could expect from the former beauty queen, who now employed that same charm in her job as one of the island’s top real estate agents. Evidently, she reserved that charm for people not named Rett Davenport.
Sinclair turned and walked toward the buffet, indicating that he should come with. He did, captivated by the subtle sway of her hips as he followed in the wake of her soft, delicate scent. All of it taking him back to that night they’d shared in Raleigh five years ago.
Yes, he’d been an immature jerk to Sinclair in high school. She clearly still held a grudge and had no intentions of letting him forget it. Despite the night they’d shared.
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Reese Ryan writes sexy, deeply emotional romances with family drama, surprising secrets, and unexpected twists.
Past president of her local Romance Writers of America chapter and a panelist at the 2017 Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, Reese is an advocate for the romance genre and diversity in fiction.
Connect with Reese
Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter
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Tuesday, April 25, 2023
Release Day Blitz! Deep Tide by Laura Griffin ~ Excerpt #DeepTide @Laura_Griff @BerkleyPub @penguinrandom
Sean Moran slipped away from the party. The bride and groom had left under a shower of rice, but people were still milling around beneath swags of white lights, drinking the couple’s booze and enjoying the breeze off the water. Sean would have liked another drink, but he needed to get back to his condo. As he crossed the wooden bridge spanning the sand dunes, he spied a woman on the beach with a champagne flute in hand.
Leyla Breda.
Her formfitting dress looked silver in the moonlight, and it shimmered against her body as she strolled toward the surf. Nearing a piece of driftwood, she dropped her shoes to the sand and sat down. She nestled the flute at her feet, then lifted her arms and twisted her dark hair into a knot at the top of her head.
Sean stopped at the end of the bridge. He had about a hundred things left to do tonight, including contacting his boss.
Instead, he walked over to Leyla.
"How's the champagne?"
She jumped and turned around. Recognition flickered across her face, and her shoulders relaxed.
"It's good." She held up her glass. "You didn't have any?"
"Nope. Can I get you a refill?"
She smiled. "What, are you a waiter now, too?"
He stepped closer. "I'm Sean Moran, by the way." He held out his hand. "We never actually met."
"Leyla Breda." Her handshake was brisk and businesslike, but the warm look in her eyes gave him hope.
"Joel's little sister," he said.
"That's me."
He turned toward the water so he wouldn't be tempted to stare down the front of her dress.
"I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier," she said. "Things got really hectic."
"Looked like you had your hands full."
"So, are you here for Joel or Miranda?"
He looked at her. "Joel."
She tipped her head to the side as she gazed up at him. "And you know him from . . . ?"
"Work."
She frowned. "Here?"
"No. We go way back. We were in the same academy class in Houston, spent some time at HPD together."
"Oh. That was a while ago."
"Yeah."
"So . . . the vice squad, then?"
"Yeah. Mind if I sit down?"
"Not at all."
Sean lowered himself onto the other end of the sandy log. He didn't like the direction the conversation had taken so he steered it back to her.
"So, how long have you been a caterer?" he asked.
"Hmm . . . let's see. I guess it's been about three weeks now." She turned and smiled at him, and he felt a hot jolt of attraction. "Why? Can you tell?"
"Not at all."
"Right."
"Well, the timing seemed a little bumpy."
"Just a little." She rolled her eyes. "We had several staffers no-show. It happens a lot in this business. People are flaky. Despite all my planning, you could say we were a bit rushed."
Rushed was right. No woman had ever clapped at him before. He'd discovered it was a turn-on.
Excerpted from Deep Tide by Laura Griffin Copyright © 2023 by Laura Griffin. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved.
Monday, April 24, 2023
It's Monday! What Are You Reading? April 24, 2023 #IMWAYR
Saturday, April 22, 2023
This OR That #Giveaway № 101 ~ Momnesia by Lori Verni-Fogarsi OR The Wisdom of Hair by Kim Boykin #Momnesia #TheWisdomOfHair
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