Model: Gigi Hoggard
Photographer: Gigi Photography Studios: Boudoir and Models
Cover Design: Tracie – Dark Water Covers
📚 #Blurb 📚
He was everything to me.
I promised to love her forever.
He left me.
I came back damaged and scarred. I couldn’t bring that kind of broken to her.
He’s not the boy I loved anymore.
She wears armor, shielding the girl I once knew.
Years have gone by.
Too much has changed.
My heart still beats for her.
My soul still cries for him.
Devon “Doc” Mayfield broke my heart, and now he wants to piece me back together. Is it too late?
Daphne Brooks is the girl I left behind, but I’m here now to take back what was always mine. I just need her to remember the man that owns her shattered heart.
#ReleaseBlitz #RunawayLove (Satan’s Sinners MC Book 6) #ColbieKay
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Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07DRNT7ZH
About the Author
Colbie Kay always had a love for reading and wanted to pursue
writing. In 2015 she made that dream come true when she published her
first book. Since then she has become a stay-at- home mom, writing full-
time and bringing her passion to life through the words she creates.
The most fulfilling part of being an author for Colbie is to take
readers into a fantasy world between the pages of her books. Becoming
an author has also given her the opportunity to fill another passion of
hers, which is traveling. She loves being able to attend book signings
and meeting everyone that shares her love of books.
Colbie has many more stories to share with you, so be sure to connect
with her and keep up with what is coming next.
#StayConnected to Colbie Kay⬇︎
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Today we are celebrating the release of THE DISTILLER’S DARLING by Rebecca Norinne and Jamaila Brinkley. This is the second standalone title in the River Hill contemporary romance series. Check out an excerpt from the book below.
THE DISTILLER’S DARLING by Rebecca Norinne & Jamaila Brinkley
Irish whiskey royalty has no place in Northern California, but that isn’t going to stop Iain Brennan, the black sheep of Brennan Family Distillers, from giving it a shot. Wine Country is an unlikely place to launch a whiskey empire, but Iain’s just reckless enough to make it work. And being out from under the watchful eye of his disapproving father back home in Dublin? Even better.
Naomi Klein has spent the last ten years ignoring her society family as much as possible while building a career as a renowned sculptor. She’s found a home in River Hill, but has no interest in dipping her toes into the commitment pool. Just the idea of forever gives her hives. Which makes a rootless Irish wanderer the perfect fling. And shocking her mother? Just a bonus.
But as cozy autumn nights turn into lazy winter mornings, Naomi and Iain realize that they’re getting close to something neither of them wants: love. When Naomi discovers Iain’s not quite as rootless as he seems, she’ll have to make some tough decisions. And when the Brennans and the Kleins descend en masse to collect their prodigal children, River Hill may never be the same.
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“Thank you for doing this,” Iain said, the pad of his index finger tracing over the design Naomi had created for Whitman’s Revival. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again. You kind of ghosted me.”
He glanced up in time to catch her looking away guiltily. “Yeah, about that—”
“I’m not asking you to explain yourself. I get it. We had some fun, and now it’s time to move on.”
Naomi’s eyes came back around, the guilt replaced with what Iain thought looked a whole lot like contemplation. “Funny you should mention that.”
“I was thinking,” she said, her finger swirling a pattern on the table that separated them. “You’re leaving in two months, and it would be a shame if we didn’t spend that time … hanging out.” Her eyes bored into his, as if daring him to misunderstand.
His lips quirked up into a smirk. “Why, Miss Klein, are you asking me to fuck you senseless until I board a plane back to Ireland?”
She tossed him a wicked smile full of promise. “You have to admit; we’re pretty damn good at it.”
“The best,” he agreed.
He felt his chest sawing in and out as his breathing became deeper and more labored. Iain couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such heady anticipation. Oh, wait, yes, he could. It was that night in San Francisco when he and Naomi had practically run from that dive bar to his hotel. He’d been so ready for her that he’d ripped her dress off before the door to his room had locked behind them.
“So, what do you say, Brennan? You want to spend the next sixty days seeing how many orgasms we can give each other?”
That was all the invitation Iain needed. Abruptly, he stood, his chair scraping over the black-and-white-checked linoleum and then crashing to the floor. He stalked around the fifties-style diner table and fisted his hands in Naomi’s hair. He bent at the waist and let his lips hover scant centimeters from her parted ones. He could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own. “What do you say we get started on that now?”
She licked her lips. “Yes, let’s.”
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About the Authors
Rebecca Norinne writes sexy romance from the heart. Her heroines are bold and headstrong, and her heroes will do anything for the ones they love.
When not banging away at the keyboard, she is watching rugby, enjoying a pint of craft beer, or traveling the globe in search of inspiration for her next book.
Originally from California, Rebecca currently resides in Dublin, Ireland, with her husband.
Jamaila Brinkley writes historical romance with a hint of magic. Her Wizards of London series features thieves, duchesses, witches, and more indulging in mayhem and romance in Regency England. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and was a finalist in the Romance Through the Ages contest in 2015.
Jamaila came to romance as an avid reader of fantasy and science fiction, and found that her favorite historical romances seemed ripe for an injection of magic. Her favorite historical period is currently the Victorian era, and she’s never happier than when immersed in a multi-book family series.
Jamaila lives outside Baltimore, Maryland in a house that is perpetually under renovation with her husband and twin toddlers. You can find her blogging about romance, writing, parenting, cooking, and more on her website at www.jamailabrinkley.com, and posting pictures of her lunch on Twitter as @jamaila.
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Sometimes it was hard seeing my friend so happy. Bryan had finally pulled his head out of his ass and got the girl of his dreams, and it was someone he never saw coming. Emma was made for him though, which made me a little jealous.
I’d always considered myself a nice guy, good-looking, tall, muscular, and yet, while I could get almost any girl I wanted, I’d never found the one. Lying deep inside me, a hopeless romantic waited—something most didn’t know about me. Bryan did, but then again, we’d known each other since junior high and he was my best friend/former roommate. My friend Chad, whom I met through Bryan, probably suspected, but he never said anything. Then again, although he’d be loathed to admit it, he’d been looking for the same thing…until Rayne.
Rayne was a work of art. Beautiful on the outside, but a decrepit, flesh falling off the bones, ugly bitch on the inside, and Chad had it out for her–not that I blamed him. I didn’t. She attacked with a vengeance and only thought about herself, but there was something in her eyes. Something hidden in the depths of a darkness few truly knew.
I knew the darkness. I understood where she’d gone, and it wasn’t a place many left without help. Sometimes, I could still feel the pull of the ghosts trying to drag me back, but I refused to go back there. I wouldn’t lose myself again.
“Sabum,” a small voice broke through the fog and cleared the air. I grinned and turned around to find one of my students standing behind me, rocking on her feet, her hands behind her back as if she were hiding something from me. Today, her hair had bright pink fuzzy something holding it in two long blonde braids. The ends were thankfully not as bright or distracting.
“Matilda,” I answered, biting the inside of my lip when I saw the disgusted face she made. She stuck out her tongue as if she’d eaten something that tasted disgusting and scrunched up her face. The first day she joined my Taekwondo dojang, she’d made almost the same face when her mother introduced her to me. Matilda had tried to hide it, but she’d failed miserably. I didn’t tell on her though. “Mattie then?”
Rolling her eyes, she sighed comically, overemphasizing everything by lifting her shoulders more than necessary and exhaling loudly. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to remember. You make me call you sabum because you are my teacher, why can’t you call me Mattie?”
“You’re right.” I held back my laughter. This little girl had come a long way in the year I’d been teaching her. Her mother had brought her in hoping that learning Taekwondo would give her some confidence. Mattie had been shy and quiet, unable to look me in the eyes. It took me a month to find out she had a pair of striking blue eyes. Up to that point, I only knew she had hair so blonde, it was white, and it was always in two French braids that ran down the back of her head, ending at her shoulder blades. When I’d met her, she was eight but very small. I thought she’d been in first grade, not third. The first time she watched a class and someone got thrown, she screamed and begged her mother to let her go home.
A year later, this little girl loved coming, could take on some of the kids bigger than her, and was always the first to show up for class. Such a drastic change. I wished I could say the same about some of my other students. Unlike her, some of my other students would stick to the shadows and stay in the background if they could. Fortunately, or maybe it was unfortunately for them, I didn’t allow that in my dojang.
“Sabum,” Mattie called out again.
“Hmmm?” I hummed, shaking myself from my thoughts. “What is it?”
Rolling her eyes, she put her hands on her hip. “Aren’t you the one that said we should always listen to others?”
“I did?” I stepped past her and ruffled her hair, giving her a small wink.”
“Isn’t it time for you to get ready for class?”
“I suppose.” She sighed.
“Don’t sound so put out.”
“Hey, Sabum…?” Her words drifted off, but I had a feeling she wasn’t done. Clasping my hands behind my back, I waited, and it didn’t take long for her to continue. “Why are boys jerks?”
This threw me off. Boys? Was she old enough to even know the difference between boys and girls? Was she old enough to like boys? I’d admit that I didn’t have that much experience with kids outside of the dojang, which was probably for the best since I really didn’t know how to handle them besides teaching them Taekwondo.
“Sabum?” she called out to me.
“Sorry.” I smiled and patted her head. “Boys will always be jerks. Even when they are my age.” My thoughts drifted to Bryan and Chad. One had finally learned to pull his head out of his ass, but his wife still kept him on his toes, and the other…sometimes I wondered if there was any hope for him.
Her grimace reminded me of someone who just ate a lemon and didn’t like it. “Really? And you’re old.” She shook her head in disappointment.
I snorted unable to hold back my laughter any longer. “Why don’t you go and get ready and we’ll warm up as we wait for everyone else.”
When she ran off, her mother approached. “Sorry about that Evan.”
“No worries. I don’t mind at all. When I was her age, anyone twenty and above seemed old. How are things going at school?”
“Her teachers rave about her and she gets along with the other students.”
I smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Me too. She had such a hard time and now…she’s a different person. Thank you. My husband and I can’t thank you enough.”
“She did all the work,” I corrected Mattie’s mother.
“But you helped her along.” She smiled and grabbed my arm to squeeze it before walking over to the metal bleachers I had in the far corner for parents to watch their kids.
I was about to go and join Mattie when a stranger who appeared very unsure of herself entered practically dragging a little girl with messy, curly brown hair entered. The girl could have used a good hairbrush. The woman…I swallowed hard.Fuck me!Her white teeth were biting her lower lip and I half expected to see blood gushing from a wound any minute. Her brown eyes were darting from side to side, and she kept pushing a few strands of her straight golden hair that had escaped her bun, behind her ear. And the curves on this woman was enough to make my dick stand at attention.
Clearing my throat, I approached her slowly and said, “Hi. I’m Evan. Can I help you?”
Today we are celebrating the release of #1 LIE by T. Gephart! This is a contemporary romance, standalone title that you won’t want to miss! You can purchase it on all platforms now. This novel is part of T. Gephart’s #1 Series. Check out some teasers and the book trailer below!
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#1 LIE by T. Gephart (#1 Series, #4)
Working in Hollywood meant Jessica Dawson was used to lying. As an assistant to one of the biggest agents in town, biting her tongue and spewing out sugarcoated untruths were an almost daily occurrence. But fabricating alternate realities never spilled into her personal life, until three months ago when she told the biggest lie of all.
While her dear gran lay on her deathbed, Jessica mentioned she’d met her soul mate. It had been Gran’s last wish to see all her grandkids settled down before she went to see Jesus. And as the only one still single, Jessica didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.
No one expected Gran to make a miraculous recovery.
Now, Gran was expecting to meet Jessica’s perfect man at her cousin’s wedding, which meant she needed to find a perfect man fast. Hiring a professional was the only solution.
Enter Dave Larsson, younger brother to one of Hollywood’s elite.
Sexy, funny and just as smoldering hot as his super-famous sibling—he had talent and charm to spare. But most importantly, he was affordable and available.
All she needed to do was haul Dave home, have him meet Gran and the family, then shortly after the wedding, “break up” with him.
It was either that, or admit to her #1 Lie.
Only thing she didn’t plan on was the bigger lie she would need to tell herself when it was time to let him go.
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T Gephart is a USA Today and International bestselling author from Melbourne, Australia.
With an approach to life that is somewhat unconventional, she prefers to fly by the seat of her pants rather than adhere to some rigid roadmap. Her lack of “plan” has resulted in a rather interesting and eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history. She’d tell you all about it, but the statute of limitations hasn’t expired yet. But all those crazy twists and turns have led her to a career she loves—writing romantic comedy.
When she isn’t filling pages with sassy and sexy characters with attitude, she’s living her own reality show in the ‘burbs of Melbourne with her American husband, two teenage children, and her fur child—Woodley.
She loves adventure, to laugh, travel, and strives to live her life to the fullest.
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“What are you doing now that your team is out of the running for the Stanley Cup?”
I need to forget. I need an escape.
Only one person isn’t falling for my reputation as the NHL’s Golden Boy; she captured my attention the minute she called me out for snooping through my best friend’s house. She didn’t want to hear my reason–she only wanted to playfully give me a hard time.
Adalyn is bold, sassy–and the perfect escape.
She’s everywhere. In town and in my dreams, and suddenly I need to spend every waking moment with her.
And I do, making this summer the best off-season I’ve ever had.
But in the midst of getting lost in Adalyn, what I don’t expect is to get her pregnant.
And what I definitely don’t expect is having to fight for her affection.
“Would you mind zipping up the back of my dress?” She walks toward me, her flowery scent floating in my direction, spiking my yearning into overdrive.
“Uh, yeah . . . sure.”
She turns around, and looks over her shoulder. The back of her dress is completely open, the zipper undone to just above the curve of her beautifully round ass.
Shit, all that smooth, tan skin, covered by nothing but the velvety fabric of the dress. Is she wearing underwear? She’s not wearing a bra and I see no panty line.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Are you wearing underwear, Adalyn?”
From over her shoulder, she smiles shyly. “Yes, it’s small though.”
Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?
Not being able to stop myself, I take a second to float my fingertips up her spine. From the initial touch, her back arches and a small gasp releases from her lips, but before I can think about stopping, she melts into my touch. Stepping closer, I place my hand on the back of her hip, my thumb pressing into her ass while the other hand explores the bare expanse of her back. Her head falls to my shoulder. Her lips part, and when I snake to the front of her dress, her breath hitches.
Eyes closed, I take in ragged breaths, my fingers inching closer and closer to her front, my cock painfully hard.
It’s been so goddamn long—and being with Adalyn has only spurred on my need—but I want to make sure we’re in a good place before we commit to anything. I want to make sure she’s ready emotionally because the minute I bury myself deep inside her, I know there will be no turning back. She will be mine forever.
But maybe for now, I can just have a little touch . . .
My cock pressed against her butt, she expertly grinds her backside into me, her hands moving to my neck, pulling my head down to hers. I kiss the side of her neck, using the hand that’s gripping her hips to guide her with her grinding in just the right place.
Fuck, that feels good.
I grunt, the sound vibrating over her sleek neck. My hand on her stomach, she arches wanting more of my touch, silently asking me to move north.
And I fucking comply. Inch by slow inch, I guide my hand to just below her breasts. When I halt my pursuit, a displeased groan escapes her.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find the willpower. Her fingernails dig into my scalp, spurring me on as she turns her head and finds my lips.
She kisses me.
Her lips gliding across mine, her tongue diving into my mouth, her moans are vocal and sexy. Her delicious ass, pressing, grinding, undulating against my rock-hard cock makes me want to do so much more, makes me want to taste so much more.
Moving my hand higher, my fingertips graze the bottom of her breast. Soft. Round. Smooth. I caress her right below her nipple, never touching, just teasing . . . tempting.
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!