VICE by Rosanna Leo Release Blitz

Title: VICE
Series: Vegas Sins #1
Author: Rosanna Leo
Genre: Hot Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Crave Publishing
Release Date: September 19, 2017

Casinos, gambling, money, and women, these are all the things Las Vegas has to offer. For a handsome business entrepreneur it’s paradise.

Wearing success like a well-tailored suit, Liam Doyle knows exactly how to lure customers into his grand casino hotels. Every night it’s business as usual while he runs his multi-million dollar empire…until a pesky protester catches his attention.

Staging a one-woman protest, Kate Callender has the potential to be a huge pain in his ass. If he doesn’t take care of her soon, there will be bad publicity slapped all over Vice, the newest addition to his chain of casinos.

But there’s just one tiny little problem Liam didn’t count on—the feisty red-head isn’t about to go down easily. She’s fighting him every step of the way…and he’s starting to like it.

“You,” she said on a breath.“Me.” His enticing blue eyes traveled up and down the length of her, one eyebrow raised in frank admiration. “You obviously didn’t do your homework.”

Outrage surged through her system. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were yesterday? Why did you let me embarrass myself like that?”

The smirk disappeared, to be replaced by a mild expression of boredom. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I always try to size up the competition.”

Doyle walked toward her, his large hand extended. The light in his eyes now hinted not so much at merriment as it did danger. She caught a whiff of her favorite men’s cologne by Michael Kors. She’d bought it for an old boyfriend once, but it smelled way better on Liam, as if it were an extension of his persona.

His entire ensemble, designer suit, pressed pants, and navy blue paisley tie, reeked of power and privilege that drew her like a moth to a flame. Damn, she’d always been a sucker for a man in a good suit. Get a hold of yourself, Kate. He’s hot, but so is the Devil.

He kept his hand out. “Please allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m Liam Doyle.” His gaze drifted toward her neckline and back up again. “I think you’ve heard of me.”

Wishing she didn’t have to, she took his hand. Electricity shot through her and that damned perspiration appeared on her upper lip again. His grip was that of a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted.

She held her head high. “Kate Callender.”

He held her hand for a moment, his gaze locked on hers. He then gestured toward the counter, where a teak tray was laden with biscuits and what smelled like expensive coffee. No Folgers crystals for this guy. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“Tea?”

“No.”

“So we’re done with the niceties, then?”

“I didn’t come here for niceties.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place.” Liam sat on one of the couches, motioning for her to do the same. She continued to stand. Something in his wolf-like gaze hardened even further. “Ms. Callender, why are you picketing my casino?”

His direct question set her even more on edge. She cleared her throat. “I have a right to protest what I see as wrong.”

His grim smile might have made a grown man sweat, but she didn’t look away. “Let me put this another way. Las Vegas is home to numerous casinos. Why mine?”

“If I’m trying to make a point, it only stands to reason I’d pick the most popular casino. I suppose I should congratulate you. Only open for two days, and Vice is already a hit. You must be so proud.”

“Yes. Despite having my grand opening spoiled.”

“Oh.” She inclined her head in mock sympathy. “I’m so not sorry.”

He peered at her, narrowing his eyes. “Are you a Bible-thumper?”

“No.”

“Campaigning politician?

Despite her unease, she laughed. “Do I look like Hilary Clinton?”

He looked her up and down, as if her vocation were scrawled somewhere on her and he simply needed to find it. “Aspiring actress? This is probably a publicity stunt to get you viral on YouTube? Trying to get an audition here as a showgirl? Sorry, I don’t use them. The whole concept is dated and demeaning to my female clientele.”

Okay, he got some points for that statement. “I’m not a dancer. I’m a singer.”

It was his turn to laugh. Despite the bitter tone, his deep timber called to her. “Same difference.” He stood. “I’m not auditioning you, Ms. Callender, as fun as it would be to get you on the casting couch.” And there he lost those points again. “Have a nice day.”

“Wait! I’m not trying to get an audition. You need to listen to me.” In a nervous reaction, she fingered the pearl choker at her neck, the one thing she had left of her mother. The one thing her father hadn’t pawned.

Doyle turned back to her, one brow raised. “No, I don’t.” He eyed how she gripped her choker. “So you can take your fake pearl necklace and your sneakers and your attitude and go home.”

Her attitude? “No. You let me up here. I’m not leaving until you hear me out.” She let go of the choker and let her hands fall to her sides. “And my pearls aren’t fake.”

“Why are you here, Ms. Callender? Did you lose money at one of my casinos on your last night out with the girls?”

She didn’t want to dignify that with a response, but a smug statement like that couldn’t go unchallenged. “I’m not a gambler.”

He leaned against the armrest of the cushy couch and surveyed her through hooded eyes. “Ah, and now we come to the crux of the matter. So, you’re a do-gooder. Let me guess. Gam-Anon?”

“New Horizons.”

“Never heard of them.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t exist. And unfortunately, there are lots of us. Far too many. What does that tell you, Mr. Doyle?”

Liam’s lips twitched into a smile that appeared slightly more friendly than his poker face, as if he enjoyed their banter. He loosened his tie, but his focused gaze continued to grate on her nerves. She stared at the strip of indigo silk at his throat, and was struck by a bizarre and unbidden image.

Her, on his bed. Her hands bound with his expensive tie.

The strange pounding in her head must have been her racing heart. Where did that come from? Focus, Kate, focus.

“I’m not just here because it’s something I believe in. I’m here because my group gets bigger every goddamn week,” she said, concentrating on the task at hand, rather than Liam Doyle’s bed. Lisa’s sad face appeared in her mind, as well as those of her children, the ones who’d spent the last two nights crying for their daddy. Kate blinked away the tears which threatened and aimed her burning gaze at Doyle. “I don’t respect your work, Mr. Doyle. And I don’t respect you.”

From the furrow of his brow, Kate thought she’d struck a nerve. His tanned skin seemed paler. After a moment, he said, “So you’re trying to take down my casino with a one-woman picket line? No offense, but I’ve seen better protests at a garage sale.”

“I’m trying to create awareness.” Kate stood, having already had enough of their uncomfortable conversation. “I’m not a fool. My intention is not to shut down Las Vegas, or your casino. That’ll never happen. But if I can make a small dent in the wallet of the Strip’s wealthiest hustler during his opening week, then maybe people will take notice. Have you never thought about the addictions riding your customers? Have you ever spent time chatting with the compulsive gamblers downstairs? Because I bet you’d hear a lot of stories. And believe me, the worst ones are the ones they don’t tell.” She paused for breath. “My friend’s husband is probably down there right now, feeding your slot machines instead of his kids.”

“Hold on. Don’t pin that on me.”

“Oh? Who do I pin it on?”

“Look, if you want a donation, I already make plenty. Believe me, I make regular donations to people like Gam-Anon. You know, legitimate charities.”

“I’m not here for money, but clearly you are.” The words spilled out of her, kick-started by adrenaline. “You’re a wealthy man. Did you have to open casinos? Were they such a passion for you? Couldn’t you have opened, I don’t know, a supermarket chain instead? Or was that not sexy enough for the great Liam Doyle?”

His lips compressed. Had her comment hit home? Good.

“You have no right…”

“I have every right.” Her face was burning now. “If I can save even a few lost souls from places like this, then I’ll sleep a whole lot easier.”

She had to get out before she started crying. She wanted to leave with her head held high. Leave him thinking. She turned and headed for the elevator, but he grabbed her hand before she could get away.

“Wait.”

Kate yanked her hand out of his grip. “How do you even sleep, Mr. Doyle?”

His eyes bored into her. “Like a rock. But that crown of thorns must keep you up at night.”

She tried to appear like she was still in control, but that had hurt. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Kate marched to the elevator and punched the button. As the door opened, she threw a look back at him.

“By the way, I will be back. I’ll show you how many lives have been devastated by your casinos.” She walked into the lift, even though she felt like running. She didn’t look back.

Liam called out to her. “Watch your step, Ms. Callender. I don’t forgive and forget.”

She channeled her last ounce of bravado before the doors shut. “You really should see someone for that. I hear being an asshole can be terminal.”

Once the elevator began its descent, Kate leaned against the back of the small space and closed her eyes, winded by her hostile exchange with Doyle. She didn’t open them again until the door opened.

Rosanna Leo is a multi-published romance author. Winner of the Reader’s Choice 2015 in Paranormal Romance at The Romance Reviews, Rosanna draws on her love of mythology for her books on Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters.
From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her long-suffering husband, their two hungry sons and a tabby cat named Sweetie. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair.
A library employee by day, she is honored to be a member of the league of naughty librarians who also happen to write romance.

 


 

 

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Down & Dirty: Zak (Dirty Angels MC, Book 1) By: Jeanne St. James Release

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Down & Dirty: Zak (Dirty Angels MC, Book 1)

By Jeanne St. James

Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance

 

On sale for $2.99 for a limited time or FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

Kindle: http://amzn.to/2uIGwVy

Paperback: http://amzn.to/2fTe7IZ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35845896-down-dirty

 

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Blurb:

Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rule. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Zak’s story…

After spending the last ten years in prison, Zak, former DAMC president, has a few priorities: to reconnect with his “brothers,” to get drunk, and to get laid. Not necessarily in that order. When he spots a stunning woman in the clubhouse and mistakes her for one of the club’s strippers, those priorities get a bit skewed.

  Sophie has no idea what happened to her life. One minute she’s totally focused on building her bakery business, and the next? She’s delivering a cake to the Dirty Angels motorcycle club’s “homecoming” celebration for a member who just got out of prison. Little does she know baking that cake will change the rest of her life, not to mention, make her a target for a rival MC. Normally, Sophie wouldn’t be caught dead with a man like Zak, a tattooed, ex-con, badass biker.

 When a decades old territory war threatens to rip them apart, Zak will do anything to keep Sophie, his club, and the town safe. But being from two different worlds, the threat they’re under may not be worth the risk.

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Excerpt:

Sophie had no idea what happened to her life. One minute she’s totally focused on building her bakery business, and the next?

She closed her eyes and groaned. Somehow the next, she’s being pulled through a crowd of rowdy bikers and their “bitches” in the cold night air, heading toward a roaring bonfire that appeared to be made up of a mountain of wood pallets. The flames licked halfway to heaven.

As Zak strode forward, Sophie leaned back trying to slow him down a bit. She was wearing her very favorite suede knee-high boots. The brown ones that had a really nice heel on them that made her legs look longer. And slimmer. Because that was important, too. However, the heel didn’t make it easy to walk in the dark over stones, dead grass and rough patches of dirt.

She had a feeling she would end up on her ass. She should have worn sneakers instead.

Especially since she wasn’t trying to impress anyone here.

She didn’t even want to be here in the first place.

How the hell did she even end up here tonight?

The man currently hauling her around left pissed off last night and she had no clue why he even insisted on pursuing her… pursuing this. Whatever the hell this was.

The worst part was she had shut down the bakery early, locked the door, turned off all the lights, and went upstairs to hide just in case he did show up at eight. Like he had threatened.

And when eight-oh-five came around and he hadn’t shown up, she had breathed a sigh of relief. But then, she should have realized that bikers probably weren’t prompt or watched the time. Life apparently revolved around them, not the clock.

Nope, fuck everyone else.

So, she left the lights off in her apartment, too, and wearing a pair of yoga pants and an old, soft sweatshirt, she sank onto her couch to catch up on some TV.

Well, that was until there was a man in black standing before her, hands on his hips.

And if that didn’t make her scream and her heart beat a million miles a minute, nothing would.

She had no idea how he got in or why she didn’t hear him. Maybe he was right about the shop needing better security.

She needed it just to keep him out.

But as he stood over her, her stomach dropped—once it stopped spinning. Holy Hannah, even in the glow of the TV he looked good with his badass clothes, his badass tats, and his badass bod.

He jerked his stubbled chin in her direction. “That what you’re wearing?”

“How did you get in here?”

“Told you I’d be here at eight.”

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “I locked the door.”

“I know. Diesel will be makin’ your place more secure.”

He knew someone named after fuel. Okay, then.

“Question was: That what you’re wearin’?”

She looked down at her clothes, then back up at him. He was judging her clothing choices? “Uh, no. I’m not going.”

He blinked slowly as if trying to keep his patience. “Babe.”

Maybe he should be more worried about her patience. “My name is Sophie.”

“Know what your name is.”

“Babe is a pig in a movie.”

She swore she heard him snort. Though, it sounded much sexier than a pig.

“Got wraps. We can stay here and fuck, or we can go to church.”

Sophie heard the silent, “And then fuck,” he was tacking onto the end of that in his mind.

Wasn’t much of a choice. “How about neither. I hate church.”

This time he definitely snorted. He leaned over and switched on the lamp next to the couch. Sophie squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light.

Hot damn, he looked even better in the light.

Fuck her life.

His beard was freshly trimmed tight to his jaw, his hair actually looked like he ran a comb through it even though it had a shaggy, sexy tousled look to it. His eyes were lit up with amusement.

Then there was the rest of him. He had a well-fitting pair of Levi’s encasing his long legs which ended at his black biker boots, of course. And on her way back up, she noticed the same belt as yesterday, and couldn’t forget that grimy black leather vest. Under it was a black thermal Henley that snugged his torso. And his muscular arms. And that muscular chest of his. She finally let her eyes rise to his and he wore a wide smile.

Cocky.

“Babe. Yeah, thinking stayin’ here and fuckin’ may be the choice you’ll be makin’. I brought a few.”

Sophie shook herself out of her daze. “A few what?”

“Wraps. Nothin’s gonna hold us back tonight.”

Well, that was a relief.

Not.

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About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a bestselling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine.

Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

 

Author Links:

Website: http://www.jeannestjames.com

Blog: http://jeannestjames.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JeanneStJamesAuthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jeannestjames/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JeanneStJames

Amazon Author Page: http://tinyurl.com/JeanneStJames

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Review & Book Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/JeannesReviewCrew/