The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance By L.B. Dunbar ♥ Release Blitz

Title: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance

Series: Legendary Rock Stars #5

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Rock Star Romance

Release Date: September 14, 2015

Blurb

Don’t judge me. I know you want to, but let’s get some facts straight in my defense.

1. I love Arturo King

2. Arturo left me behind.

3. I was lonely.

4. Lansing was an old friend.

5. I love Arturo King.

Did you burn the fictional damsel in distress that cuddled and kissed her best friend when her fantastical boyfriend disappeared for months? No, you didn’t. You sympathized with her loneliness before you read ahead to make sure the boyfriend was coming back to her. Loneliness is not a crime. It’s cruel to be alone, but not a crime, the last I knew. If it is a crime, I’ll light the match to ignite myself for what I’ve done. Goodness knows, I’m burning up with guilt as it is. In my defense, I want my story to be told before I’m judged too harshly. Arturo King might be a rock legend, but he and I are human. We make mistakes. We made mistakes. Do we need to suffer for all of eternity because of them? I hope not. The jury still seems to be out, though. The greater question is: Is it possible to rekindle our love, when the past could burn us all?

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Excerpt

Prologue

Guinevere

If I ever wondered what the pits of hell felt like, I sensed my current position was similar to being in the fiery depths. The orange-yellow glow danced before me; blinding me to the man I knew was on the other side of the flames. His face was melting, fading in the fumes that surrounded and flowed from the heat. I sensed the wooden walls of the barn structure were crackling and eventually would crumble, but I continued to stand as if frozen. There would be no chance to freeze under the circumstances. If anything, I should be melting slowly to form a puddle on the floor. My skin felt as if it would peel off of me, one droplet of sweat at a time.

The blaze started in an attempt to gain Arturo’s attention. The boy wanted to impress his father: a rock god who stubbornly ignored his son, as he had done over a year ago in this same barn. The Barn. The place of inspiration for Arturo King and his band, The Nights. The place where they performed their magic through music. The place that marked where history was made.

I continued to stare through the flames that separated us. I could see that his lips were moving; calling or shouting out to me, but I couldn’t hear over the roar of the fire. His face was warped in my vision, drifting with the bright light that framed his head filled with dark waves and a jaw covered thicker than before. His brown eyes looked black as they stared back at me. I was trapped. The flames formed a wall between me and my beloved; a man I loved more than anyone. A man who I hurt more than I ever intended. A man who hurt me with his mysterious disappearance and lack of communication.

I didn’t move. Allowing the heat to consume me, I decided this might be my fate. Death by fire was how the adulteress was punished in ancient times. Of course, in romance novels a hero comes to the aid of the persecuted. My mind flashed to another man. He had been a hero to a little girl trapped within a burning building. He had been my hero, as well, when I was kidnapped in a drugged induced haze. He was someone I should not have been thinking of.

I continued to watch the movement of Arturo’s mouth. The roar of the flames was all that I heard. It made music to my ears, drowning out the accusations.

How could I do it? How could I be with another man?

The world seemed to stop as I struggled to give my answers. In contrast, it came alive in an orange glow that spread rapidly along the old wooden floor. My back was now against the warmth of the stones behind me. It was almost like I imagined a brick oven would feel. The ancient fieldstones were absorbing the heat and reflecting it back within the cramped space. Wood crackled above my head. The ripping sound only assured me that my end was eminent. The walls were catching and the barn was doomed to collapse.

Suddenly, I heard my name. The voice that screamed to me was clear, familiar, and not the voice that should have called for me.

“Guinie, turn around and reach up your hand,” he shouted down to me. It was like an angel spoke to me from the heavens. I couldn’t break my gaze on Arturo, but he was gesturing above me. His expression showed he clearly recognized who was over me, who was calling me. His eyes found mine through the flames and he nodded once. Then he looked away and I quickly spun reaching upward blindly. My eyes were dry, boiled orbs within their sockets. The smoke so thick, I confused it for fog. Stretching, my fingers connected with those reaching down for me. One hand was clasped, the opposite wrist encircled, and up I went into the freshness of the cool summer afternoon air. The scent of pine and lake water burned my smoke encrusted nose and I gasped for more oxygen. It was like I’d been drowning. A brief sensation I’d had a year ago in the water of that lake below.

My mind was clouded, but a passing image flashed of Arturo and me spinning in the blue water. He’d kissed me for the first time on that day then rolled us off the boat into the water in distraction. We were playful then. Not today. I heard his voice ringing in my head; his words enflamed with his bitterness.

How could I do it? Didn’t I love him?

I balanced on hands and knees in the dry earth near the burning barn. My throat was hoarse from gassy fumes and screams. I called out his name one more time, and then the inevitable happened. The wooden structure collapsed.

Author Bio

L.B. Dunbar loves the original legend of King Arthur. Inspired by this classic tale, she pulled over to the side of the road to take notes when it hit her that if King Arthur lived today, he’d be a rock star. A lover of fairy tales, myths, legends, and anything with happily ever after, she loves to read and write contemporary romance. Her Legendary Rock Stars series is complete with the final tale: The Trials fo Guinevere DeGrance, but the story began with The Legend of Arturo King. She also wrote The Sensations Collection, which includes five stand alones based on the five senses in a small town setting near Lake Michigan. Raised on one side of that lake, she grew up in Michigan, but now lives on the other side, in Chicago. Mother to four, wife to the one and only, and teacher to hundreds of former students, she looks forward to sharing more stories in the future.

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The Quest Of Perkins Vale By L.B. Dunbar ♥ Release Blitz

Title: The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rockstars #3)

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: June 22, 2015

Synopsis

I’m not sure I know what to think of the girl I’ve searched for since I was thirteen; she isn’t exactly how I remembered her.

I’m twenty-five, a guy and a virgin. Yep, you read that right; I’m still a virgin. Why you ask? Because I met the woman of my dreams when she was still a girl and I’ve been searching for her ever since we met. I’ve saved myself for her, as I believe she saved herself for me. Why again? Because I will love her, like she will love me, when we finally meet, again. I’d like to think it was that simple, but I don’t really know if she will love me. I only hope she will. If she doesn’t, she won’t be the right girl for me, because like I said, I’ve been saving myself for the woman of my dreams. I just don’t know where she is…but I won’t stop searching until I find her. That is my mission. My quest.

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Excerpt

The Quest of Perkins Vale © L.B. Dunbar

Perk walked to his bed and sat with a plop on the edge. It was going to be smaller than the king size bed in his home in the city, but if I thought about it, we slept close to each other every night when we were together. The smaller mattress would make no difference.

“It seems that everywhere I turn, someone knew you. Someone knew where you were. I’ve been searching for you for twelve years, and I was the only one who didn’t know where you were, while everyone else did.”

“Twelve years?” I asked, as I came to sit next to him.

He rubbed a hand down his face and told me about a rainy night long ago in a decrypted home. He claimed he saw me, with Elaine and Elliott, at the side of my sick uncle’s bed. It seemed a mystery to me that the same man who found me in the tent, had been the boy I scolded outside my uncle’s manor house. It seemed a bit like destiny that he kept finding me, although I didn’t remember him as clearly. He was a boy at a confusing time. He was a teenager at a time of dismay. Now, he was a man.

When his tale was complete, he looked a bit exhausted as if the weight of years got heavier instead of lifting off his shoulders. I was barely dressed as I left the bathroom in one of his large t-shirts. He undressed down to his boxers, which had become his custom and he covered us in his teenage bed.

I had to giggle as I snuggled up to face him.

“How many girls did you have in this thing?” I laughed, a bit bitterly with hope that the number wasn’t large.

“None,” he said immediately.

“Come on. No high school crush? Summer love? Stolen night or afternoon while your mother was away?”

“No one ever. In this bed.”

His words stunned me. Visions of Perk in hallways with women pinned to the wall and barrooms with girls on his lap filled my mind.

“Other beds, huh?” I questioned in disbelief. I’d seen his room the first night I stayed. It was obvious someone had slept there with him.

“No girl. No bed. Ever,” he repeated, staring up at the ceiling. He had one hand braced behind his head and the other lay between us, which wasn’t our customary position. I lay on my side, watching his body grow rigid with each part of my inquisition.

“I saw your room that first night. You’d had a girl there. Maybe not to sleep over, but someone had been there.” Bitterness was fully in my mouth at this point, as I envisioned someone else sleeping with him in the same manner we slept.

“No one in my bed. Before you,” he said, blowing out air. I could see his chest rising and falling exaggeratedly. If I didn’t know better, I thought he might be trying to calm himself as if he were about to explode at me.

“Perk, honest, it’s okay. I get it. You’re a rock star. Women have thrown themselves at you. It happens, right?” I wasn’t as convinced as I tried to sound, as if this was okay with me.

“Hollister, drop it. Please. There’s been no one else.”

“It’s fine, don’t tell me. I’m sure you’ve lost count,” I said snippily. Suddenly he turned to face me and the old mattress jiggled under his weight.

“I’m only going to say this once; one more time. There’s never been another woman in my bed. There’s never been any woman in any other bed with me. There hasn’t been any one else.”

From the glow of the moonlight outside his unshaded window, I saw his chocolaty eyes sparkle. His face was firm as he emphasized each word.

“Perkins, it’s okay…”

“Hollister, drop it,” he interrupted.

“I don’t need to know. I’m just…”

“I’m a virgin,” he blurted. The words hung in the darkened room.

About The Author

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

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Sight Words By L.B. Dunbar ♥ Release Blitz

Book Title: Sight Words (The Sensations Collection)
Author: LB Dunbar
Genre: New Adult Contemporary
Release Date: June 2, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

I’ve been waiting for love. I’ve watched my closest family find their perfect match, and it’s made me realize my current boyfriend is not mine. When a stranger comes to town, I’m intrigued, but not ready to give up my newfound freedom. A whirlwind of events throws us into each other’s path, where I eventually discover I’m the teacher of his youngest sister. Concerned about Amaryllis’ reading, I take on the role of mentor to her. Soon I learn a lesson or two from big brother, Leon Ramirez. In a push and pull, we struggle as we each have demons in our past.

A smart girl would never stay in a bad relationship.

A gang member could never want more from his life.

Stereotypes remain false words.

As I learn to fight for love, I find that words do matter.

Sometimes they can hurt more than sticks and stones.

She was out of my league in more ways than one, but I noticed her long brown hair, skimming down her back, hanging straight. I hadn’t noticed before that she had some kind of highlights that shimmered in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. Just the sight of her brought tightness to my chest. I couldn’t get enough air. I was about to walk away, knowing I could never be involved with her, when I changed my mind and opened the door to hear her let out a squeak.

“You scared the crap out of me,” she hissed, but with a small smile. My breath hitched when she looked at me, then her face hardened slightly.

“Mr. Ramirez. I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” She was all formal politeness as if I were some student’s father.

“Ms. Carter. I’m fine, and you?” I replied with mockery in my voice.

She smirked at me and then returned to finish writing on her white board. I took in the classroom, noting that it was for younger students, but not really noticing anything at all. I sat at a desk in the front row then slid my palms over to the edge of the flat surface and gripped it.

“So this is your classroom,” I said, not really knowing what to say.

“Yes. I believe you are familiar with it as you clean it each night.”

I grunted, and looked away.

“You always work late.” It was said as a question, but was more of a statement.

“I work hard…and I have a lot to do.”

I might have thought she was dismissing me, but I didn’t move from the desk.

“Tell me what you do.”

She turned and glared at me, as if I had insulted her.

“I mean, tell me what you have to do so late each night. Why aren’t you home, or on a date?” This last question I didn’t want answered. Maybe she did have dates. I wouldn’t know and shouldn’t care.

“I have to get organized for the next day. Plan. Grade. Contact parents.” She leveled a stare at me.

I only nodded in response.

“Do you have a lot of naughty children?” I laughed.

“Naughty?”

“You know, misbehaved, so that you have to call their parents.”

“Not many. I call more with concerns related to academics.” She glared my way again before straightening something on her desk.

“I got in trouble a lot in school,” I began, looking at her as she continued to ignore me. She was purposely doing it now, because she’d straightened the same pile several times, even though it was already neatly stacked.

“Uh-huh,” she pretended disinterest.

“Stared out the window. Teased the girls. Talked a lot in class.”

She looked up at me finally and raised an eyebrow above her sexy glasses.

“I was a good student, academically,” I emphasized, “but I was bored and that can lead to trouble.”

She came around her desk and sat on the edge, listening intently.

“I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I made some…poor decisions. I was in two different high schools, and it was when I was a junior that things changed for me. I had an AP Physics teacher that believed in my potential and helped me apply to college. I’d be the first one in my family to ever go.”

I was lost in the thought of Mr. Croft, who’d pushed me to work harder and do better in order to make the basketball team with passing grades. When I was a senior, Mr. Croft helped me fill out the forms for Northeastern and secure the necessary student scholarship. I hated to think that I might have disappointed Mr. Croft by taking this break in my senior year.

I looked up at Tricia, who was watching me.

“I wanted to be a pro-basketball player, but that wasn’t going to happen by attending a Chicago city university. Physics was my next favorite subject, and I’m good with my hands and building things. I like to study things like motion. Basketball is all physics.” I held my hands up as if to show her my physical tools, then felt silly and returned them to grip the edge of the desk. She walked over to stand in front of the desk where I sat and balanced against the edge of it.

“When I had to…when I came up here, I had to put it all on hold; hopefully only until January,” I added the last part and looked at her sheepishly. She seemed to be attentively listening and not judging me. I could tell in the way she held her hand under her chin, fingers wrapped around her exposed neck. She appeared thoughtful and I wanted her to know something about me. I wanted her to understand that I was trying to keep my life together. I had a goal.

“What?” she asked and I saw her swallow. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring at her.

“I’m trying to imagine getting in trouble by you as my teacher,” I lied to cover the stare. “I don’t think you could be intimidating.”

“Intimidating? I can be intimidating,” she laughed.

“Doubt it. Pretend I just teased someone or talked too much, and give me your best Ms. Carter scowl or reprimand.”

She laughed and then tried to straighten her face. She bit her lip, which was more seductive and playful than frightening, and I assumed she did it to hold back another laugh. She leaned across the desk, hands on either side of the flat writing surface, and looked down at me over those glasses. She was trying to be firm, but I could tell again that she was struggling. She tugged at her own lip to hold the smile. She had pressed her breasts together, unknowingly. My eyes wandered down her neck to the V-cut and her exposed cleavage.

“Are you looking at my breasts?” she gasped.

“Well, you put them in my face and if I was twelve, I would be so distracted I wouldn’t mind getting in trouble.”

She gasped even louder and pushed off the desk, but my quick hands imprisoned each of her wrists, holding her palms on the desktop.

I blatantly looked at her rising breasts, pressed firmly together and bursting out of the V in her sweater. My eyes climbed up her soft looking neck to her jaw, and then to her mouth before I met her eyes. Those glasses were too damn hot.

“You aren’t very scary as a teacher,” I said, not recognizing my own voice.

“You aren’t scary, either,” she replied, but I knew she was lying. Her ragged breathing gave away the fine line between thrill and threat. I wouldn’t hurt her. I could never hurt a woman the way I had seen others do it. I wouldn’t ever stand by and watch others hurt women.

My hand slowly slid up one of her forearms and I could feel her tremble under my touch. Her mossy colored eyes sparkled with gold flecks. I could be lost in them forever, if I let her in. But I couldn’t do that.

“You play the role of naughty teacher pretty well,” I teased.

“Naughty teacher?” she gasped again, trying to pull out of my firm hold on her.

“You know you have the sexy, tease factor going on. And the glasses…” I smiled slightly as she turned a shade of pink. Pink was definitely becoming one of my favorite colors on her. I wanted to trace the line of that blush as it traveled from somewhere within her sweater, up her neck, and over her face.

“Tease?” she questioned firmer.

The door to her room opened with a swoosh sound.

“Missa Carter, you work too hard.” Damn that Italian accent.

I released her at the same time she pulled back abruptly, and her foot slipped in her high heels. I reached for her as she regained her composure by gripping the desk a second time to prevent from falling. She looked at me with those mischievous sparkling eyes and a bit of anger. With my hands on her upper arms, I tried to right her from slipping. It pressed her breasts even closer together between her arms. As she clasped the front of the desk, facing me, she almost burst forth from the V-shape in the sweater. My eyes traveled downward before glancing up at her face.

“Bad teacher,” I whispered, shaking my head. Her shocked expression was priceless. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her so badly, and that made me a bad boy.

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

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THE STORY OF LANSING LOTTE by L.B. Dunbar ♥ Release Blitz

Title: The Story Of Lansing Lotte (Legendary Rockstars #2)

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: April 28, 2015

Synopsis

I get it. I’ve heard the jokes. My name sounds like some medieval character who was a hero. Hell, my best friend’s named Arturo King. Ring any medieval bells? But this is my story and I’m no hero. I also get the jokes. Lancelot is a play on the words lance and lot, and a lance refers to a sword, which is a euphemism for dick. What does a man do with his dick? He fucks. A lot. So if my name is Lansing Lotte, I must be “fucking lot.” Get it? Fucking a lot? Which I’m not saying I don’t, that’s not the point. Another reference to something sexual. Get my point? Huh, I made a punny. But again this is my story, and I haven’t done anything funny. In fact, I’ve killed three women, and only one of them I loved. Yeah, that’s right? Not laughing now. It’s not funny. And I’m definitely no fucking hero.

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Character Introduction: Lansing Lotte

Paisley Belle reporting for Guitar Central. Today’s interview is with Lansing Lotte, guitar hero for the award winning rock band, The Nights. Despite the recent tragedy for The Nights, I was able to sit down with Mr. Lotte in a small coffee shop down the street from his historical home in New York City. Perkins Vale, drummer, and Tristan Lyons, bass guitarist, will be joining us soon, but with the few private minutes alone, I begin my inquiry.

Let’s start with how you got into music?

L: My mother was the most instrumental in my introduction to the guitar. Pardon the pun. She was what you’d call laid back, a naturalist, almost hippy-like. Music surrounded us and she eventually taught me to play on a 1931 Gibson L-I Flattop. I still have that guitar all these years later.

Speaking of family, we understand you’ve had a rather unusual upbringing.

L: (growing fidgety) I don’t typically talk about it, but yes, Vivian DuLac is not my natural mother. Yes, I did inherit Logres Construction.

Lansing remains silent for a moment, reflective, and I decide to move on.

Tell me about your nickname: The Lady Killer.

L: (flinches at first, but then relaxes, pushing his longer bangs off his forehead) Yeah, well, I’m okay with the ladies (a sly crooked smile begins and those blue eyes sparkle), but I’ve been known to make a few mistakes, break a few hearts. Maybe one too many. (sighs).

Broken hearts, what about being a hero?

L: (sitting up straighter and continuing to fidget with the coffee cup in front of him) I wouldn’t say I’m a hero. I did what anyone would do. I have…a connection…to the little girl. I needed to get to her.

(Raising my eyebrow) A connection, how?

L: (smiling deeper) It’s a long story (laughs).

Well, tell me the story of the band. How did you all come together?

L: I met Arturo when we were teenagers; he’s two years older than me. It was a fight over a girl (he looks away for a moment). Anyway, met Perkins in the woods one summer. We just sort of clicked. He’s a natural on the drums. Met Tristan after Arturo went to college. We just gel, a band of brothers.

(I soften my tone) And speaking of brothers, how are you all holding up with the news of Arturo?

L: What news?

Well, the recent events surrounding Arturo and his…

L: There is no news. All we know is Arturo was in an accident. I’m sure you’ve seen the images. Graphic. Disturbing. But we are still hoping for the best. He’s been spotted sporadically, but we don’t have any definite leads. What we do know, is if Arturo King were dead, we would all feel it. Our connection is that strong. If one goes, we would know it.

In an attempt to change directions, I ask: How is Guinevere DeGrance?

L: Why?

I’m taken aback for a moment and then he continues.

L: I apologize. Guinevere is holding up the best she can. Obviously this has all been quite a blow to her. She’s been through a lot, but she’s a strong woman. She’ll make it through this. She has me. She has the band. We are all there for one another.

There for each other, but who is there for you, specifically? (winking)

L: (seeming to relax). Someone amazing is there for me. I didn’t see her coming, but she means everything to me. She’s changed my life, literally. It’s a new chapter for me, and I’m looking forward to where this will lead (smiles deeply).

I can feel the exciting energy for his unspoken new love interest, but I decide not to pry further.

Okay, can you comment on your world tour being cancelled?

L: We had to cancel. We won’t continue without Arturo, so we decided to wait. The fans have been understanding. We are still working on finishing the album, and looking forward to a release tentatively in August. We appreciate everyone’s support for Arturo and we are certain he feels the love they keep sending out to him.

Anything you want to say to your fans?

L: We love you. Thanks for your support. We’re sticking together, no worries. You can keep up to date with all things The Nights on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/737318906359166/

At that point, a beautiful blonde woman and a little girl dressed in a ladybug costume enter the coffee shop. Lansing’s attention shifts immediately and the little girl waves to him. He winks at her and she giggles in response. I don’t miss that his eyes wander up to the woman who waits patiently in line for coffee, not acknowledging him. The weight of the Lady Killer’s attention must be too much, because she turns toward us, and slowly smiles at Mr. Lotte. I’ve seen that look before on a few ladies of society. This one definitely has more-than-a-crush on the rock star sitting before me, but I can tell by the look on his face, he feels the same way about her.

There’s no sign of Perkins Vale or Tristan Lyons, but I can’t wait to get the nitty-gritty on the quiet member of the band, Perkins. That giant drummer has some secrets, and I can’t wait to learn them next.

Paisley Bell, Guitar Central. 2015