Monday, March 31, 2014

Book blast & Giveaway "Forever Your Heart" by Mary Whitney

Title: Forever Your Heart (Beside Your Heart #3)

Author: Mary Whitney

Genre: Contemporary Fiction

Date: April 8, 2014

Publisher: Omnific Publishing

Event Organized ByLiterati Author Services, Inc.


I’m a journalist—Adam Kincaid, BBC reporter, to be exact, so I’m not going to bury the lead. I’m about to see the woman I never got over.

I know that because I’ve been back in America for years now, and I still don’t date American girls. My dad would say I’ve come to my senses, sticking to my own British patrician kind, but that’s crap. Mum, the psychologist, would more wisely say it’s my unresolved issues around Nicki. My teenage years are long behind me, yet my guilt over her remains. So I’ve avoided all things Nicki, though the irony is she’s the one avoiding me.

Maybe if we see each other, we can both move on. Could she ever forgive me? Can you forgive yourself when you hurt someone you love?

But please, don’t answer yet. I’ve jumped ahead of the story, and as a reporter, I should give you more background to get to the root of it all.

So let me tell you my story. Then you can be the judge.

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About the Author

Mary blames Laura Ingalls Wilder and Margaret Mitchell for her obsession with romance novels. At an early age, Mary fell in love with the Little House series and its dreamy hero, AlmanzoWilder, who only wanted Laura to be Laura. Like many women, Mary later graduated to the ultimate, tall and dark bad boy, Rhett Butler, who loved Scarlett despite her flaws.

Mary has lived in many parts of the U.S., and after a first career in the non-profit world and politics, she’s settled in Northern California with her husband and daughters. She spends her days writing characters she hopes somehow capture the romance of Rhett and Scarlett andAlmanzo and Laura. She’s a firm believer in what Rhett says to Scarlett: “You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.

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Blog Tour & Giveaway "Last Heartbeat" by T.R. Lykins

Title: Last Heartbeat

Author: T.R. Lykins

Release: March 29, 2014


Goodreads Link:




Alexia has fought hard to over come a tragic illness in her past. Barely getting on with her life, she finally leaves home to enter the real world. This first big step makes her appreciate all that she has struggled with. This next step in her life, also leads her to a possible heartbreak. How can Alexia keep up with all of her struggles and keep going on?

Phillip has lost someone close to him when he was younger. This person was the most important person in his life. He has struggled to get past this loss, and once he does, he finds out something about his favorite person that makes him feel the hurt all over again. Why can’t Phillip move on for good? Can he really forgive someone in the past, if they no longer live?

A chance meeting has Alexia and Phillip spending hours talking. This sparks an attraction for each other. Every day, running into each other makes the attraction grow stronger until they finally give in to it. When another accident strikes, both of their pasts come barreling back to haunt them. Can they move forward knowing the secrets they now know about one another? How much more can two broken people endure? Will they find their way back into one another's arms or have they finally come to a breaking point in life?


Author Bio:


Being a stay at home mom, I became a reader who loves and reads most genres.  I’ve read over a thousand books in the past five years. The love of these books spiked my interest to learn more about the book world and the process it took to become an author.  Ive had this story building in my head for over a year and I just needed to share it. So, educating myself in this industry has made me work hard to obtain my goals of writing and becoming an author.  The learning process has made me appreciate what all these authors have accomplished and all the hard work they put in. I can’t wait to share my story with you!!!


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Excerpt 1:


Before I can start, Phillip has his arms around me and has my back pressed to his chest.  “I am not joking to you.  I know we just met, but this feels right.  You and me just feel right.  I can’t explain it.  It does.  We can hang out together and take it slow, but believe me, I want you to be with me.”  He keeps his arms around me, holding me close to him.  I feel his heart beating as hard and fast as mine.  This does feel right, but I am so scared to get close to him.  I said that I would let things happen, but now I don’t know if I can.  I’m scared of what might happen to me.


Excerpt 2:


He looks into my eyes smiling and starts kissing me all over my face before he starts moving to my neck.  I really like this too much and never want him to stop.  He keeps going down to my shoulder, and I shiver with each kiss.  I feel his kisses it all the way to my toes.  This makes me wonder how it will feel if he keeps kissing me farther down, and I welcome it because I want to know the feeling.  He knows what he is doing that is for sure.  




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Saturday, March 29, 2014

Blog tour for "Indulging Irelyn" by D.L. Raver


Warning: Don't read this book if you hate f**ked up alpha males, strong female leads, hot sex, and a kismet love story six years in the making. Oh yeah and a plot twist that will leave you reeling.

NFL quarterback, Zolt Hamil was America’s heartthrob until a career ending injury changed his life. Years later, he’s picked up the pieces and carved out a new path for himself. But the mental and physical scars of that day have left him moody and reclusive, and his only relief is indulging in pleasure and pain with his many one night stands. Though many women have tried, Zolt refuses to care about any of them. Only one woman has his heart; a hallucination of a young, sable-eyed, blonde beauty whom he conjured that painful day on the football field.

On the first day at his new job at a law firm in Scottsdale, Arizona, Zolt comes face to face with his hallucination, IrelynWilkes. Their fateful connection, and explosive passion for each other pulls them together, and this time, Zolt refuses to let her slip from his life.

But Irelyn has her own demons to fight and her controlling boyfriend is one of them. He doesn't take kindly to other people playing with his toys, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her by his side.

Can Irelyn and Zolt defy the odds and find a way to be together? Or, will the events set in motion years ago keep them apart forever?

Chapter #1


I ran my hand along her naked arm as I moved toward the bindings that had her securely fastened to my wrought iron, four-poster bed. She’d been tethered there for over thirty minutes, and now that the sex was over, I imagined her arms and legs were probably beginning to ache as the adrenaline left her body.

Miss No-Name Brunette rubbed her arms and legs after I released her. I didn’t need or want to know her name. I’d never see her again so what was the point.

She watched me gather my clothes; her eyes roaming appreciatively over my body.

“So, John, when can I see you again? You’re amazing.” She licked her plump lips as her eyes traveled over my naked body, stopping when she noticed the nasty scars on my left shin. Small gray eyes darted to mine, and I saw the pity setting in. Pity was a deal breaker for me.

“We can’t,” I said and threw her clothes on the bed.

“Why?” Her bottom lip jutted out in disappointment. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself? You seemed to be having a great time.”

“It was fine, uh—”

“Nancy. My name is Nancy.”

I shrugged. “Right. Nancy. I don’t do repeat performances.Ever.”


“Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way things are.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at me. Then, she climbed off the bed and pulled on her clothes. “I don’t understand. Are you married or something?”

“Nope. Not married or anything else that concerns you. I’m just not interested. Tonight was great. Really. I enjoyed the shit out of myself. Fucking you was exactly what I needed. Thanks.”

“How am I supposed to get home? I left my car at the club,” she whined.

“There’s a cab waiting to take you anywhere you want. I’ve already paid the fare.” I shrugged again. This was the bothersome part of operating this way. They always wanted to see me again, and my answer was always no.

“I should have known when you wouldn’t kiss me there was something wrong with you. I bet your name isn’t even John. Do you even live here?” Whatever-her-name yanked on her shoes, and then stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

“No, I don’t live here. And, darlin’, my name is whatever you want it to be.”


“Come on, now. We both had fun.” I flashed her my megawatt smile. “I’m pretty sure you came at least three times. It’s all good, and now, it’s all over.”

I walked to her side and gently took her arm, guiding her to the door.

“But I let you restrain me!” She stamped her foot as I opened the front door.

“You did and wasn’t it fun? Maybe you can find a man that will be as adventurous. Now, off you go, Sally. Bye, bye.”

“Nancy!” she shouted as I closed the door on her. I could still hear grumbling as she walked away.

“Ugh.” Leaning against the door, I let out a long sigh. It would be a while before I could go back to that club. Too bad it ended the same every time. But I understood why. Women saw me as a catch. I knew I was attractive. It wasn’t conceit, either. It was a fact of life that all men of the Hamil family were hot.

My first year in the NFL, I was on the cover of Sports Illustrated as the Sexiest Man in Football. That cover, and the other endorsements I had, made me a nice amount of cash, so I was totally good with being an object of desire. Since they didn’t really know me, they didn’t know that I was nowhere as attractive on the inside.

I went back to the bedroom, washed and put the toys away, locking the drawer. Then, I stripped the bed, piling the sheets on the floor for the maid service to take care of.

I left, not knowing when I'd come back. Could be the following day. Could be two weeks from now. But tonight, I’d been out of fucking control—chomping at the bit to blow off some steam. In fact, I still hummed with energy.


My shadow-self pressed in on me for days. When I got like this, only one thing helped: acting out. So, I’d gone to the club in search of the first remotely available Nancy, Sally, or whoever, that didn’t revolt me. Nancy had been an easy mark. I hadn’t been there ten minutes before I’d bought her a drink, and we were out the door, heading to the apartment I kept specifically for this purpose. I was always happy when I found a woman willing to dabble in a little bondage. I wasn’t heavily into the BDSM scene, but knew how to wield pain for the ultimate pleasure.

If I stopped and thought about it, I’d be forced to acknowledged just how screwed up my life had become. So I didn't. I didn't think about all the nameless women I had fucked in the last six years, and how I hadn't been in a relationship since the injury. These exchanges served a purpose. Beyond that? Well, there was nothing beyond that.

But that didn’t mean I had become so jaded I’d forgotten how to get a woman off. I enjoyed women. Loved the soft curves of their body, and loved making them come. There was nothing hotter than watching a woman writhe and squirm as I fucked her closer to orgasm. The sound of her screaming what she thought was my name was music to my ears, but that was as far as it went.

The reality was, I was a mess, and I didn't want that advertised.

Actually, I was far worse than just a mess; I was fucking broken.

Sometimes, I wondered if I was even capable of having a normal relationship. Truth was, I waited for someone that didn't exist. A woman my pain-wracked brain conjured that day on the football field. To make matters worse, she wasn’t even of age. She was a young woman, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with the most beautiful sable-brown eyes and blonde hair I’d ever seen. Her face was sweet, kind, and compassion filled. I realized how creepy this sounds. I wasn't a sick fuck who preyed on young girls, and I had no idea why my mind created her. But all I knew was, if I ever discovered she was real, I’d do anything to have her.

I rubbed my aching leg, and then climbed into my Viper. God, I loved this car. She was all power and beauty, and driving her made me happy. I revved the engine and closed my eyes, loving the purr, and sometimes roar of her V10.

Once on route 101, I opened her up, pushing her past the century mark on the speedometer. It was crazy to be weaving in and out of traffic on the main freeway. I was asking to be pulled over, but again, I didn't care. In fact, I pressed her harder and watched as the needle climbed to 110. The concentration it took to control this machine exhilarated me. Still wound up and looking to banish my shadow-self the only way I knew how, I pushed her just a little more. Why fucking for over an hour didn’t do the trick, I had no idea. But if I didn’t burn this energy off before I got home, sleep would be out of reach. It wouldn’t do to start a new job at one of the country’s most prestigious law firms red-eyed and tired. Once home, I intended to take a long, hot shower, and then smoke a few bowls. Hopefully, I’d emerge tired enough to sleep. For a while, maybe I’d find peace until the nightmare returned that plunged me into my own personal hell.

A hell that I was used to. A hell that only she brought me out of.

The morning announced itself in its usual fashion. I jolted awake screaming, and drenched in sweat—the images as clear as the day they happened.

“Fuck!” I yelled to the empty room.

Pushing myself back against the headboard, I rubbed my leg, trying to make the pain go away. The image of her lovely face and those amazing sable-brown eyes chased the nightmare away, but my body still buzzed with the memories.

I looked over at the bong and lighter on my bedside table and sighed. Just once, I wished I didn’t have to numb myself to start the day.

Before giving in, I ran my hand over my damp collar-length hair, removing the waves sticking to my moist neck. I used to keep it short for this very reason, but I liked the way it looked longer.

As I always did, I picked up the bong and lit the bowl with the lighter. The glow of the burning weed, and the sound of the bong gurgling as I took a hit immediately calmed me. I inhaled deep and held the smoke in my burning lungs.

My long exhale sent a plume of smoke into the dawn-lit room. It floated for a second before dissipating, leaving behind the tangy smell of burning weed.

With my eyes closed, I slowed my heart rate and rapid breathing. The high kicked in, and I already felt the calm take over. I hated being so weak, and hated that what happened almost six years ago continued to affect and define my days. I used to be the epitome of discipline. Not anymore.

If I could let go of the self-blame, then maybe the dreams would abate. But night after night, I replayed the game and its never changing end.

At twenty-two, I had been one of the hottest quarterbacks in the NFL, playing for the Arizona Cardinals. The year prior, we’d made it to the NFC Championships, losing by a field goal.

The next year, we were back in the same position, with the golden ticket to the Super Bowl within our reach. The only thing standing in our way was the Philadelphia Eagles. I snarled as I thought about that team. I always snarled at the thought of them.

Two minutes remained on the clock, and we were on the ten-yard line on third down. I dropped into the pocket, searching the field for an open receiver. I danced this way and that as if my movements might slow the clock. With no receiver available, I sucked in a breath and decided to go for it. What I should have done was thrown it out of bounds and stopped the clock. That would have been the smart move—the safe move. We had one more chance. I had to make it happen. The year had to end in a run for the Super Bowl.

Running like a man on fire with the ball cradled against me as if I carried a newborn baby, I headed for the end zone. But I wasn't a running back, that wasn't what I had been trained for. Stupidly, I ran with my head down instead of up. As a result, I didn’t see the three-hundred pound linebacker heading my way. I was the man with the ball, and I had left the protection of my offensive line, which made me fair game.

The next thing I knew, I was laid out on the ground in extreme pain. When I looked down at my left leg, I was surprised—and not—to see it angled in an unnatural position. I knew then that I was well and truly fucked.

I tried to scream, but my voice failed me. Pain and the smell of the turf below me was all there was.

The hit was dirty, straight up. Later, I found out a bounty of $5,000 had been issued for any player that took out one of my knees. I hoped he got a bonus because he’d gone above and beyond his mandate. Not only did I miss a season, my football career was over. Instead of taking out my knee, his helmet, and the power behind it, he hit my shin and shattered my tibia and fibula.

I remembered lying on the ground as the trainers and medical staff attended me. Chaos had broken out around me. Players fought, and coaches and referees argued.

I needed to find peace from the commotion; needed to concentrate on something other than the excruciating pain coming from my leg. I turned my head and found a pair of big, sable-brown eyes, surrounded by golden-blonde hair, staring at me. She was beyond beautiful, and her eyes were mesmerizing. I had conjured an angel.

In my hallucination, we shared an instant connection. When all around I saw pity and remorse, in her eyes, I found solace and compassion—a kindred soul to my loss. The need to help, and her inability not to, showed in the tears falling down her face, and the trembling of her full red lips. My heart still clenched whenever I thought about it.

As conjurings go, I had created a whopper. When I thought back on it, I knew there was no way she could be real. The average person wouldn’t have been allowed to get so close to an injured player on the field. Hell, my girlfriend, who’d been sitting in the stands, wasn’t allowed on the field. It still baffled the shit out of me that my mind had created such a vivid image.

I could still see her brushing tears from her eyes in my hallucination, and I remember her taking a small step forward. I wanted her to come closer, to touch me. That was where the hallucination ended, stopped by a new streak of pain that had traveled through my leg, sending me into momentary blackness. When I opened my eyes, my blonde-haired beauty with soul-filled eyes had disappeared. All I had left was the image of her that pulled me from my terror every morning. I figured she’d probably be around twenty or twenty-one by now if she were real. I’d admit, that even today, I looked for those eyes in every blonde I encountered.

Pathetic. Yeah. Too fucking pathetic.

I sighed and took two more hits off the bong. Maybe one too many, but at least now I felt more balanced, controlled, and ready to start the day.

What the world saw now was a man who graduated from Harvard Law School, summa cum laude, and worked for almost three years at a top law firm in Boston. Some of the country's top law firms had courted me, and I had my pick of firms. But I decided to come back to Arizona, the place where my life changed forever.

Gingerly, I climbed out of the bed and headed for the pool. I didn’t bother putting on swim trunks; swimming naked was awesome. After a few stretches, I dove into the pool and swam laps for an hour. Swimming kept me in shape, though not the shape of an NFL football player. Those days were gone.

Finishing my laps, I headed for the shower, feeling excited, like something huge would happen today. The last time I had this feeling, something huge happened all right. I looked at my leg and scowled as sudsy water washed over my angry scars.

I dried off and walked into my closet, surveying the suits I had to choose from. I was somewhat of a clotheshorse—always had been. Today, I picked a black Hugo Boss suit, white shirt, and black, silk tie. In the mirror before me, I watched a professional, seemingly together man tie his tie. It was a lie of course, but one I was used to.

Once dressed, I went to the kitchen and packed up a brownie in a plastic bag to take with me. I'd gotten good at baking brownies. But these weren't just any chocolaty treats. These had a kick. Cliché I know, but hey, whatever got me through the day. Whether I’d partake in it depended on how the day went. Obviously, smoking at work wasn’t a good idea. But every now and then, the pain became unbearable. If a handful of ibuprofen didn’t do the trick, the brownie would. I refused to take pain meds. Those things did a number on my brain.

I put the brownies away, and all the paraphernalia of my coping mechanism, and locked them in a cabinet in the pantry. I didn't need Hannah, my housekeeper, finding them. She probably wouldn't care, but I did.

Thinking of Hannah made me laugh. I'd only met her twice, but we had developed an odd, sometimes hilarious, texting relationship. I really liked her. Her cooking was amazing, and she kept my home perfect.

Her work was about to increase, and I was thrilled. My brother was bringing my dog, Ben, home to me. He had been with Brody in Colorado for the last two months while I got settled. I couldn't wait to see both of them. Thinking about it made me giddy. I knew Ben would love it here. There was plenty of room for him to run. Bernese Mountain dogs needed lots of exercise. I almost didn’t get him because of that. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He got my ass outside and stopped me from being such a hermit. If I thought about the fact that my best friend was a dog, I would get bummed. But then again, fuck it! I loved my dog, and I had missed him terribly.

I doled out my handful of vitamins and four ibuprofen into my hand, and then popped them into my mouth. From the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of OJ, taking large swigs from the bottle.

Let the day begin, I thought as I walked down the hall to the door. The sound of my designer shoes on the travertine floors reminded me of the sound of cleats on concrete. It made me smile, but the memory was bittersweet, and I pushed it aside. Behind bittersweet was pure malice, an emotion I couldn't allow myself. Not today.

Grabbing the keys to my Viper, I headed out the door.

Watch out Arizona, Zolt Hamil was back.

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 About the Author

I love writing, reading, cooking. Adore Harry Potter, Jim Butcher, Darynda Jones, and Chloe Neill and anything erotic. Oh and watching NFL Football with my two dogs, Niles and Morgan, and sometimes my husband too, but only when he brings beer.

I write both romantic fantasy (Colour Wielders Series) and erotic romance (The Indulging Series).

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Friday, March 28, 2014

Jani Kay's "Two Worlds Colliding" was released!

Title: Two Worlds Colliding

Series: #1 Scorpio Stinger MC

Author: Jani Kay

Release Date: March 18, 2014



All any woman ever wants, is to know that she’s worth fighting for. All any man ever wants, is to know that he can take care of his woman. Protect her, provide for her, look after her needs and desires. That’s enough. Right? WRONG. It matters where they come from. It matters who their family is.Especially when it’s from polar opposite worlds.

Opposites attract. Ryder and Jade are drawn to one another like magnets. The Princess and the Biker. They fall in lust—hard. But is it strong enough to lead to love when everything is stacked against them?

Will Jade follow her heart or her head? Ryder OR her family.Can Ryder forget his allegiance to his brothers and his club to have his Princess? Jade OR his family.

Is Jade worth fighting for?

What happens when Ryder and Jade’s two worlds collide? Is what they have strong enough to overcome the odds? Or will their worlds destroy one another and rip them apart.

Is the ultimate price too high?




Jani has been married for a long time to a special man, and her two children and their partners are the sunshine in her life. She is a voracious reader and would spend her last dollar on a book - always fascinated that for the mere price of a book, she can escape her world for a while and see through someone else's eyes.

Besides reading, her favorite 'thing' is traveling - she hastraveled the world, learning about the ways people live and has come to the realization that no matter where we live, we all ultimately want the same things. Her hobby - Scrapbooking - keeps her up till way after midnight and her usual subjects are her family and her travels.

Ever since she can remember, Jani wanted to write stories about people, about their lives and loves. Relationships and Happiness - arguably the most difficult things to master in life and yet exactly what everyone ultimately desires (in her humble opinion).








Two Worlds Colliding

Purchase links for Ryder (#0.5 Scorpio Stinger MC)





There will be a giveaway running foebooks of Two Worlds Colliding + 5 swag packs

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Release Day for "Emma's Home" by Maryann Jordan


Emma Dodd has always taken care of everyone.  She raised her niece when they were orphaned and she cares for the students that she works with.  Deciding to move to Fairfield where her niece now lives, she was hoping to finally find a place to callhome.  

Jake Campbell, was gorgeous enough to catch any woman’s eye, but he had a hard time finding the right one for him.  A Fairfield detective, he lives with his mother to help care for her since she was diagnosed with a debilitating disease.  After meeting Emma, he knows he has met the woman of his dreams.  Now he just has to convince the independent Emma that it is time someone took care of her.

While helping one of her students, Emma becomes suspicious of criminal activity in her new town.  Will Jake be able to save Emma in time for them to build a life together?  

Here is the amazon buy links:


Early Reviews

**I really enjoyed how she used so many emotions through outthe book. I giggled and cried. I fell in love with all the characters. This story is about family, love, and finding your home.

**This first novel by Maryann Jordan is so refreshing. It combines a passionate love story with a little mystery mixed in! Both of these combined makes for a story you cannot put down!

**Absolutely LOVED this book! I had the honor to beta read Emma's Home, and I was blown away! This is a very down to earth and realistic story that will touch your heart. Not only is it steamy sexy but the challenges that Emma faces would be completely overwhelming to others. If you are looking for a book that has a very strong female lead, this is the book!!

**I also love all the surrounding characters in Jake and Emma's lives. They are so supportive and funny. They bring so much life into the book as well. I have to say that I was surprised by the plot twist. I was not expecting anything like that to come into play in this book. However, I LOVED it. It broke this book away from all the other typical romances that are out there.

**Maryann has done an amazing job with Emma's home. Not only did she give us our love story but she gave us drama suspense and a little mystery. I loved the story from the first chapter.  This story makes u smile laugh and hurt with the characters you are pulled into the story and crave to see what happens next. It's truly a must read.

**I truly LOVED this book. The story of Emma and Jake was super sexy and heart warming. Loved Jake's protectiveness. Loved Emma's independence. And the other characters were awesome as well and can't wait to catch up on them. Ladies, if you wear panties, leave 'em off, Jake will just melt them right off!!


Author Bio

I have always been an avid reader. Last year I started a blog to showcase wonderful writers. In 2014, I finally gave in to the characters in my head pleading for their story to be told. Thus, Emma's Home was created.
I work as a counselor in a high school and have been involved in education for the past 30 years.
I have been married to a wonderfully patient man for 32 years and have 2 adult, very supportive daughters.
When writing, my dog or one of my cats will usually be found in my lap!
I love to hear from readers, so please email me!






Thursday, March 27, 2014

Blog Tour & Giveaway for "Love Hacked" by Penny Reid


Book: Love Hacked

Series: Knitting in the City #3

Author: Penny Reid

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Humor

Tour Organized by: Indie Sage, LLC






There are three things you need to know about Sandra Fielding: 1) She makes all her first dates cry, 2) She hasn't been kissed in over two years, and 3) She knows how to knit.

Sandra has difficulty removing her psychotherapist hat. Of her last 30 dates, 29 have ended the same way: the man sobbing uncontrollably. After one such disaster, Sandra--near desperation and maybe a little tipsy--gives in to a seemingly harmless encounter with her hot waiter, Alex. Argumentative, secretive, and hostile Alex may be the opposite of everything Sandra knows is right for her. But now, the girl who has spent all her life helping others change for the better, must find a way to cope with falling for someone who refuses to change at all.


Purchase Link:

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Love Hacked Quotes:

[He was bald in a way that made me think of both melons and sex.]

[Alex the waiter was on my Spank Naughty list in third place, right after Henry Cavill the actor, then Henry Cavill as Superman.]

[He didn’t hear my comment. No one did. Or, if they did, they made no outward show. Which means they didn’t hear me because, as intoxicated as they were, at least one of them would have repeated it loudly and made lewd hand gestures.]

[I was looking forward to slamping it up. In fact, I was counting on it. Embrace your inner slamp!]

[“They never look nice, it’s basically impossible. You can’t dress them up, and I’ve seen a lot of balls in the ER. I’ve never seen a man’s balls and thought to myselfNow that guy has a great set of testicles.”]

[“You are woman. You are lovely in every way—inside and out. But he will always have ugly balls and there is nothing he can do about it.”]

[I love you like MC Hammer loves Gestalt Theory.]

[And why did men insist on buying the largest size? Didn’t they understand the concept of sizes? Did they think buying a magnum sized condom was going to fool me into thinking their Toyota Camery was an aircraft carrier?]




[Next came my socks. I ventured a bit further and pulled off my sweater and shirt, then my pants. I draped them over the back of my comfy chair and heard a stifled choke from behind me.

Alex stood at the precipice to the room, his gaze on my bare legs and back. I glanced at my plain purple cotton bra and underwear. They were just as modest, if not more so, as a bathing suit. I turned toward him with a question on the tip of my tongue and he flinched. He then averted his eyes and looked everywhere but at me.

I frowned, not prepared for his overreaction, and tried to think of something to make the moment less uncomfortable. “Um… Do you want something to drink?”

“I was promised hot chocolate.” His voice was strained.

“Okay, I’ll start the water.”

He studied my bulletin board. “You’re not going to get dressed first?”

I shrugged. “I guess I could.”

His gaze abruptly met mine. “You should.”

The heat in his eyes surprised me. And then I laughed. If old cotton underwear could get him this worked up, I should have tried it two weeks ago.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Bond?” I posed against the chair, deepened my voice, raised an eyebrow, “Are you afraid for my health and safety? Concerned I’ll catch a cold?”

Holding my gaze, Alex peeled off his jacket and boots. His long sleeve shirt followed, leaving him bare chested. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands to keep my eyes from straying.

“Keeping your pants on?”

“I have nothing under these pants.”

Oh… ideenentgleisung!

My eyes widened. I couldn’t help it. What was I thinking about? I completely lost my thought.

“Ah.” I nodded, took a tentative step toward him, trying to remember what happened right before he told me about his commando status. “I see.”

“What now?” He asked.

I wanted to say, Now the pants!]



[His hands gripped my waist—not my arms, which my pickled brain thought was noteworthy—and duly steadied and unsettled me with his nearness. His proximity and touch caused a zing—yes, a zing—from the back of my neck to my fingertips and heretofore neglected womanly pelvic region. The heat of his hands bled through the thin material of my dress, settled just above my hips, and this sensation paired with the zing sobered me slightly.

I hadn’t experienced a zing with a man—or a boy—or a man-boy—in a very, very long time.

“Well, h-hello.” I stuttered, lifted my eyes and found his, once again, singularly focused on my mouth. A new zing sailed southward, past my female equipment to my tiptoes.

Ah, how I missed the zing!

We stood silent, inches from each other, sharing the same breath.

“Three years is a long time.” He said, his voice achingly seductive.

I frowned because I was confused, but whispered, “Yes. And fettuccini noodles are too thick.”

He frowned, but his attention didn’t waver from my lips. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. You said three years is a long time. I thought we were sharing random opinions.”

Alex laughed—it sounded a bit nervous, but I couldn’t be sure, and shook his head. “Sandra, what do you say? I think it’s well past time you had a kiss.” His eyes flickered to mine. I noted they were still guarded, wizened; but they were also heated and every shade of licentious lapis imaginable.

In a word, delightful.

I licked my lips, gathered a deep breath through my nose, considered the offer.

He was maybe twenty-three; more likely he was twenty-two. That was six years younger than my twenty-eight. The six years between twenty-two and twenty-eight was a vast minefield of life experience and a thick forest of emotional maturity.

We were on different emotion planets.

I was looking for the guy. I was looking for my life partner. I wasn’t looking for a dangerous yet delicious looking youngster waiter with a chip on his shoulder.

Then again…

Alex was manlicious in a way that I rarely encountered. And he wanted to kiss me. And he wasn’t crying. Triple bonus.

Okay, I thought, psyching myself up, yes, let’s do this. Let’s go wild, just this once. Kiss the boy.  Kiss the boy and round the bases. Look for your life partner tomorrow.

Before I lost my nerve, I kissed him.


It was brief, sudden; a drive by kiss and I savored his stunned soft mouth. Then I leaned just my head away and glanced at him. He had such a great mouth and he’d parted it slightly in surprise.

I nodded. “Okay, just one more.” I kissed him again, fast but with more pressure this time, planted my lips to his and breathed in through my nose


Then, reluctantly, I leaned away again and immediately said, “Just one more kiss after this-”

He interrupted my assertion by mouthlesting me; meaning, he affixed his lips to mine and kissed me good and thorough.


Thick, urgent tongue invasion; biting; sucking and stroking.As he assaulted me in the best way possible, I was vaguely aware that he’d backed me into and against the corner of the small alcove, just under the stairs. His feet braced apart and his body towered over mine, filled every inch of available space; his fingers dug into my side and back in a way that felt aggressive.

I approved.

Then, abruptly, he pulled just a centimeter away. Breathing hard he said, “One more meaning that kiss?”

I hazily blinked my eyes and opened my abused lips to respond; however, before I could, he pressed me against the wall with his imposing frame, rocked against me—center to center—and growled, “Or, this kiss?”


His every day voice was a thing of beauty; but his growly voice made me want to lick his face.

The mouthlesting moved from misdemeanor to a felony crime against all women other than me. He employed tongue, teeth,lips in a way that drove all thought beyond this kiss from my mind. We existed, just the two of us, in our kiss cocoon. In that moment, strangers though we were, I allowed him to take in a way I hadn’t known I was capable of giving.

I’d lit the fuse and, God bless him, he’d provided the fireworks. Life was good.]



[I was swimming in my conflicting contemplations when, upon attempting to exit the bathroom, my progress was wholly impinged and impugned.  

By Alex.

He stopped me. Meaning, he put his arm out, barred my way forward as though he’d been lying in wait. His eyes bounced between mine before finally settling on my mouth with completely unapologetic brashness.

“Hello, Sandra.”

“Hello, Alex.”

He smiled, slow and a little wicked. He leaned a fraction of an inch closer—which, by a percentage of the distance separating us, was quite a lot. “Did you enjoy your butter chicken?”

“Yes. Did you enjoy serving me?”

His gaze flickered to mine, held. He had the most unusual eyes. Dark, dark blue—like cobalt—with black and gold specs radiating from the pupil at the center. “Serving you is always a pleasure.”

Of course, his voice and words sent an enchanting shivering awareness down my spine and to my nerve endings. Unaccountably, all my previous concerns evaporated and I was left only with a single thought.

Alex naked.


I returned his smile, hoped mine rivaled his for wickedness. “Glad to hear it.”

“So, Sandra…” he hovered, dipped his chin so that I had to lift mine to maintain eye contact. If I took a deep breath our chests would probably touch. “You owe me one, right?”

I nodded, knew that my outward appearance of nonchalance was the complete opposite of the building apprehension and excitement twisting in my middle. “That’s right. At this point, after what you did for Marie, I might even owe you two ones.”

He shook his head, looked momentarily thoughtful. “No, I don’t think so. Your friend Fiona seemed to be perfectly capable of handling the situation. What’s her story anyway? What does she do?”

“She’s a former engineer for the State Department. Now she’s a stay at home mom.”

His face darkened, his eyes lost focus for a split second as though he were absorbing this information. “The State Department, huh?”

“Yes. Why?”

“No reason. Anyway…” his eyes ignited again as they moved over my face. “You owe me one.”

“Yes, as you’ve stated previously.”

“A big one—that’s what you said?” His eyes were steady, unflinching. It should have been unnerving. Instead, I found it strangely adorable—like he didn’t know any better.

“Yes. I believe those were the words I used.”

“What time will you be done with your friends?”

“Now, actually. I need you to bring our check.”

“Good. The restaurant closes at ten tonight. Can you be back here by nine fifty-five?”

I studied him; my head fell backwards a bit, my eyes narrowing into surveillance slits. “I’m confused.”


“Yes. Your behavior is confusing.”

An eyebrow arched above overtly nerdy glasses. “How so?”

“You run hot and cold. You sit with me on Friday, are confrontational, and it’s clear you have a genuine dislike of psychiatrists-”

“You’re right, I do dislike psychiatrists.”

“-then you kiss me-”

“You kissed me first.”

“-but you offered first. And then you walked away.” I paused, allowed my statements to marinate for a few seconds, thenadded. “But tonight you’re very solicitous and are flashing the sexy eyes again.”

He didn’t respond immediately and I was somewhat surprised to find an expression of obvious admiration warm his gaze as it moved over my face. Finally, he said, “I do dislike psychiatrists, usually.”


He ignored the question. “But, I like you.”


He ignored that question too. “And I’d like to apologize for sending mixed signals. Will you come tonight?”

My lips twisted to the side. I wasn’t yet satisfied. “First, answer me this: why did you decide to sit down with me on Friday? I’ve been coming in here for over two years. If you like me, despite my unfortunate profession, why’d you wait so long?”

He didn’t hesitate in his response. “It was the dress.”

My eyebrows jumped. “The dress?”

“Yeah. The red dress. I was compelled to act. I had no choice.” His nod was gentle, but his barely-there grin was wicked. It did things to me.]



[This was where my mind was occupied when Alex stepped out of a shadowy alley in front of my El station and just about scared the poop out of me.

I jumped back, my hand pressed to my heart, and gasped my shock. “Oh my god!”

Alex lifted his hands in a demonstration of his docile intent. “Sorry, sorry. I saw you leave the hospital and came through this way to intercept you. Are you okay?”

I walked backward then leaned one hand against the brick wall facing of Jefferson’s Shoe Repair and Sock Emporium. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“You just almost gave me literal shitzterhozen.” I chuckled; it was soft yet a little hysterical. I shook my head to clear it.

His rumbly laugh met my ears. “You should have seen your face.”

My laugh continued, less hysterical, more therapeutic.Bukkake! I can’t believe how fast my heart is beating.”

Alex crossed to me and placed two fingers against my neck, presumably to feel my pulse. “I can’t-”

In one swift movement I unzipped my jacket to my abdomen, grabbed his hand, and stuffed it into my jacket under my left breast, “Here, this is how you get the full effect.”

His eyebrows jumped; his smile was immense, devastating. His hand, cold at first, curled just slightly around my ribs and it tickled. Gradually, his fingers thawed, and where his palm was pressed over my shirt heated with our combined warmth.

We passed a long moment, his hand in my jacket, feeling my heart beat; and my eyes surveying his reaction. His smile waned over the course of several seconds and an intense, but distant, melancholy claimed over his features.

I shivered.

With visible reluctance Alex drew his hand away then re-zipped my jacket. Without his hand, my chest felt cold.

A small, sad smile lingered around his lips and I caught a whiff of his soap.

He’d showered and smelled mantastic. My heart rate spiked again.

“Thank you.” He said. His tone was quiet, deferential. “I’ve never done that before.”

“What? Jump out of an alley way like a menacing henchman and loosen a person’s poop?”

Alex pressed his lips together, though they curved upward betraying the smile he attempted to suppress. “No. I do that all the time. It’s Wednesday, right?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“I was talking about feeling your heart beat. I’ve never done that before.”

My gaze flickered over him. “What do you mean? To anyone?”

He nodded once and reached for my hand, pulled me along the street behind him. “Correct.”

“Not even your mom?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Not that you remember?”

Alex paused when we reached the intersection; he didn’t look at me, instead I was given only his profile. He didn’t answer, but his silence confirmed that my heart had been his first.]


About the Author:

SEX! It all started with sex, between my parents. Personally I don’t like thinking about it, but whatever works for you is a-ok with me. No judgment. The sex happened in California and much of my life also occurred in that state until I moved from the land of nuts (almonds), wine, silicon… boobs, and heavy traffic to the southeast US. Like most writers I like to write, but let’s get back to sex. Eventually I married and gave birth to 2 small people-children (boy-6, girl-4 as of this writing).

By day I’m a biomedical researcher with focus on rare diseases. By night I’m a knitter, sewer, lino block carver, fabric printer, soap maker, and general crafter. By the wee hours of the morning or when I’m intoxicated I love to listen to the voices in my head and let them tell me stories.  I hope you enjoy their stories.












1 MASSIVE Giveaway winner (open internationally) will get signed print copies of the following:


Tattooed Dots by Kimberly Knight

Geoducks are for Lovers by Daisy Prescott

Archer's Voice by Mia Sheridan

Chocolate Rose by Laura Florand

Better, Him, Her by Carey Heywood

Consequences, Truth, Convicted, Behind His Eyes - Consequences by Aleatha Romig

Sweet Thing by Renee Carlino

Behind His Lens by RS Grey

Mine to Lose, Being There by TK Rapp

Black Box by Cassia Leo

Axel by Harper Sloan

The Proposal, The Pairing by Katie Ashley

Torn by KA Robinson

Seduction and Snacks by Tara Sivec

Knitting in the City Series by Penny Reid

Tote signed by these authors + more.




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Title: Neanderthal Seeks Human

Series: Knitting in the City #1

Author: Penny Reid

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Humor

Purchase Links:

Amazon/Kindle (eBook) (Print)
Barnes and Noble/Nook (eBook)
Apple (eBook)
Kobo (eBook)
Sony (eBook)
Smashwords (eBook)





This is a full-length, 110k word novel and is the first book in the Knitting in the City series.

There are three things you need to know about Janie Morris: 1) She is incapable of engaging in a conversation without volunteering TMTI (Too Much Trivial Information), especially when she is unnerved, 2) No one unnerves her more than Quinn Sullivan, and 3) She doesn't know how to knit.

After losing her boyfriend, apartment, and job in the same day, Janie Morris can't help wondering what new torment fate has in store. To her utter mortification, Quinn Sullivan- aka Sir McHotpants- witnesses it all then keeps turning up like a pair of shoes you lust after but can't afford. The last thing she expects is for Quinn- the focus of her slightly, albeit harmless, stalkerish tendencies- to make her an offer she can't refuse.


Title: Friends Without Benefits

Series: Knitting in the City #2

Author: Penny Reid

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Humor

Purchase Links:

Amazon/Kindle (ebook)






Friends Without Benefits can be read as a standalone, is a full length 120k word novel, and is book#2 in the Knitting in the City Series. 

There are three things you need to know about Elizabeth Finney: 1) She suffers from severe sarcastic syndrome, especially when she's unnerved, 2) No one unnerves her like NicoManganiello, and 3) She knows how to knit. 

Elizabeth Finney is almost always right about everything: the musical merits of boy bands are undervalued by society, “benefits” with human Ken dolls are better without friendship, and the sun has set on her once-in-a-lifetime chance for true love. But when Elizabeth’s plans for benefits without friendship are disarmed by the irritatingly charismatic and chauvinistic Nico Manganiello- her former nemesis- she finds herself struggling to maintain the electric fence around her heart while avoiding electrocution or, worse, falling in love


Stop by later for Wendy Dawn's 5 star review of this awesome novel!