Wednesday, May 29, 2024
The Girl with Three Birthdays by Patti Eddington ~ My Thoughts #TheGirlWithThreeBirthdays @shewritespress
Tuesday, May 28, 2024
Release Day! The Last Lady of the Silver Screen by Deanna Lynn Sletten ~ My Thoughts #TheLastLadyOfTheSilverScreen @DeannaLSletten
Happy Release Day!
Monday, May 27, 2024
It's Monday! What Are You Reading? May 27, 2024 #IMWAYR
Saturday, May 25, 2024
This OR That Giveaway № 150 ~ Things We Do in the Dark by Jennifer Hillier OR The Winters in Bloom by Lisa Tucker #ThingsWeDoInTheDark #TheWintersInBloom
Be sure to check the sidebar for my current giveaways!
Thursday, May 23, 2024
Book Blitz! Pity Parade by Whitney Dineen ~ Excerpt and #Giveaway! #PityParade @WhitneyDineen @XpressoTours
Pity Parade by Whitney Dineen
(Pity Series, #4)
Publication date: May 23rd 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Trina Rockwell here. You know, your favorite TV host from Midwestern Matchmaker?I have a I am without a doubt, the unluckiest dater in the history of the entire world. I’m not even embellishing. I’ve inadvertently dated a mobster, a dead-beat dad, and a guy who puts salt on watermelon. What’s next, pineapple on pizza?As my past relationships reads like the who’s who of court jesters, it’s no wonder I’ve refused my producers desire to spotlight me as one of the singles on a new show they’re putting together.
The problem is that Midwestern Matchmaker just got canceled and unless I agree to their terms, I’m out of a job.
In order to keep doing what I love doing—matching midwestern singles, I either need to suck it up and parade my dating life on national television or I need to get married—STAT.
Guess which one I’m putting my money on?
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EXCERPT
I sit down on the deck and take my shoes off. The warm boards feel wonderful on my bare feet. I can visualize myself drinking my morning coffee here every day at sunrise and sitting out and enjoying a glass of wine at the end of the day. If I weren’t so desperate to get out of doing another show with Tom, I’d forget everything to do with men and simply enjoy the summer for myself.
I’m suddenly eager to put my feet into the water, so I stand up and walk down to the end of the pier. Within moments, I’m lost in my reverie and I don’t hear anyone approach before a deeply masculine voice announces, “Hi there, you must be my neighbor.”
I spin around so quickly I almost tip over. Oh. My. Heavens. I’m staring at the glorious-looking Heath Fox. My mouth suddenly goes so dry I can barely ask, “You’re my neighbor?”
His green eyes pop open in recognition as he answers, “Trina Rockwell. Imagine meeting you here.”
Heath and I met at a charity event last year. He was one of the bachelors being auctioned off for the cause—childhood diabetes. One look at him kicked my libido into overdrive and I bid more on him than the next three men received combined—for charity, of course.
“What are you doing here?” I ask this as though inquiring why he’s sunbathing on the moon or why he has fourteen toes on each foot.
“I’m taking the summer off to enjoy myself. How about you?”
“Me? Oh … um … same.” Heath’s and my charity date went spectacularly well, or so I thought, until he kissed me goodnight. After that, he assured me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone.
I was offended to the extreme. It’s not like I thought I was buying a relationship with the man, but to end the night by giving me the kiss off—literally—was a bit much.
“Dating anyone?” he wants to know.
“I’m not exactly sure why would you care?” Yeah, I’m still mad, but better keep it passive-aggressive. I’m not a shrew or anything.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know. I thought I might have heard from you again after our evening out, but I didn’t.”
“You thought you’d hear from me?”
“I thought we had a nice time,” he says.
“Then maybe you should have called.” So I could tell him to take a long walk off a short pier.
“According to the paperwork we signed for the auction, I wasn’t allowed to make first contact after our date. They didn’t want any of the ladies to feel unsafe.” I don’t remember reading that, but it sounds plausible.
“Huh.” I mean, what else can I say? Oh wait, I know. “You made it perfectly clear you weren’t looking for a relationship. I can’t imagine you thought I was clueless enough not to take the hint.”
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.
She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.
Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.
Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.
Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.
Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.
Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017
Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017
Connect with Whitney
Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
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Tuesday, May 21, 2024
Release Day! Liar's Point by Laura Griffin ~ Excerpt #LiarsPoint @Laura_Griff @BerkleyPub
Happy Release Day!
Nicole Lawson felt naked.
It wasn't the minidress or the strappy sandals.
It wasn't even the weird slit that left the entire side of her thigh on
display.
It was the Smith & Wesson .40 caliber
pistol-or absence of it-that was making her feel exposed. She was so accustomed
to those twenty-nine ounces riding on her hip, and the lack of weight was
making her antsy as hell.
She checked her phone, then flipped it over.
Nicole glanced around the restaurant, which was
wall-to-wall couples, of course. She'd never been in here before, and the
decorations grated on her nerves. They were going for elegant, she knew-this
was the Nautilus, after all-and it wasn't like the place was covered in pink
balloons. The bloodred rosebuds on every table looked nice, actually. Ditto for
the votive candles that emitted a soft glow. Really, it was the glitter that
was giving her hives, all those tiny gold hearts sprinkled across her table
like pixie dust. Just the sight was making her feel even stupider than she
already did in this ridiculous dress.
She checked her phone again.
For the first time ever she had a date on
Valentine's, and not just any date. Tonight was the date. She and David had
gone out three times already. The last time had ended with intense kissing in
his car, which definitely would have continued if he hadn't been called into
work. Nothing like being summoned to an autopsy to kill the mood.
He wanted to make it up to her, though. Those
were his exact words when he'd invited her to this expensive restaurant. And so
Nicole had squeezed herself into a low-cut black dress that gave her the
illusion of boobs, borrowed her sister's stilettos, and come here to meet him
for dinner.
"Are we still waiting?"
Her server was back again with that pitying look
that was almost as annoying as the glitter.
She smiled up at him. "We are."
"And would you like some wine, perhaps?
Maybe a cocktail?"
"I'm good." She nodded at her
half-finished water. "Thanks."
He walked off, leaving her to her silent phone.
No text, no voice message. She'd even checked her email, but zip.
Nicole looked around, sure people were staring
at her. God, the white-haired couple behind her was already paying their bill.
Her phone vibrated on the table, and she
snatched it up.
"Hello?"
"Where the hell are you?"
Not David. She closed her eyes.
"I'm out. Why?"
"Didn't you get the call?" Emmet asked
her, and she pictured him at the police station surrounded by the typical Saturday-night
chaos.
"I'm off tonight."
"Not anymore."
Her phone beeped with an incoming call, and she
checked the screen.
"Listen, that's Denise. I have to go."
Nicole got off with Emmet and took the call.
"Hey, what's up?"
"The chief asked me to reach you. He needs
you at a scene."
Damn it.
Nicole pushed her chair back and grabbed her
purse. "Does he know I'm off tonight?"
"Yep."
She unzipped her little black clutch and left a
ten on the table. They were going to have to bus it, even though she hadn't
ordered anything.
"Well, what's going on?"
"One sec," Denise said, and cut over
to another call. When things were busy, the Lost Beach PD receptionist doubled
as a dispatcher. She was also the chief's right hand, doing everything from
managing his calendar to deflecting reporters who called in from time to time.
The front of the restaurant was packed with
waiting couples. Nicole scanned the bar and the area around the hostess stand
but didn't see any tall, handsome doctors looking around for their date. It was
7:32. She'd officially been stood up.
"Nicole?"
"I'm here." She squeezed past the
people and pushed open the door. A cold gust hit her, and she stepped back.
"He needs you at Lighthouse Point right
away. And keep it off the radio."
"What's going on?" she asked again.
"I'm not sure."
"Well, what did he say?"
"He said, 'I need Lawson at Lighthouse
Point ASAP. Keep it off the radio.' That's all I have."
Nicole hunched her head down, wishing for her
leather jacket as she strode across the parking lot. It had filled in since
she'd arrived.
"What's your ETA?" Denise asked.
"I'll be there in five."
"Roger that."
Excerpted from Liar's Point by
Laura Griffin Copyright © 2024 by Laura Griffin. Excerpted by permission of
Berkley. All rights reserved.
Saturday, May 18, 2024
This OR That #Giveaway № 149 ~ Blood Ties by Lori G. Armstrong OR The Merchant of Menace by Jill Churchill #BloodTies #TheMerchantOfMenace
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