Chicks Dig the Accent by Roxanne D. Howard Cover Reveal

Chicks Dig the Accent, a modern-day fairy tale rom-com with Loose Id Publishing, is now available in paperback!

Description:

Molly Ivers has always known she’d marry a foreign man with a delicious accent. Six months ago, in a night of unbridled passion, Molly gave her virginity to her friend and sexy-as-can-be neighbor, rocker Evan Castle. Unfortunately, thanks to his swarm of constant groupies, things didn’t work out, but they remained friends. Now, after having just broken up with her boring, run-of-the-mill right-wing boyfriend, she’s on the verge of finishing her graduate degree and moving to Paris. She is desperate to shake things up–and find that sexy foreign man.

She’s had a crush on Nicholas Sullivan, her British professor, for as long as she can remember. So when opportunity comes knocking to spice up her appearance in the form of a French life coach, she hires Jean Luc Dubois to help her let her hair down and become more Parisian and hip to reflect the person she is within. Thanks to Jean Luc’s magic, she starts to catch her hunky English prof’s eye, but the more time she spends with Evan, the more she begins to realize that her Prince Charming might just be the one she’s known all along.

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Excerpt:

“So, you’re going through with it?”

“Going through with what?” They both looked into the living room, where a bemused Evan stood half-naked and barefoot in a pair of black pajama bottoms. Molly licked nectar off the peach on the end of her fork to save it from dropping to the floor. Evan’s jaw tightened, and his eyes gleamed as he zeroed in on her. He cleared his throat and lifted an empty half gallon of milk. “Sorry, you left the door cracked open. I came to borrow milk.”

“Jesus, Evan! Knock next time, or at least text. I’m in my panties!” Nell smacked him on the arm and tugged down her nightshirt as she ran past him into her bedroom.

“Sorry,” he said, but he seemed distracted as he strode toward Molly, eyes glued to her lips. She sucked the rest of her peach slice into her mouth and wiped at a little of the nectar at the corner of her lips. Her cheeks blazed at the hungry longing in his eyes. She turned away to open the fridge to get the milk. It wasn’t uncommon for them to borrow food from one another, and he always watched out for them. He had a comforting, protective nature she’d gotten used to.

She grew painfully aware of her night shorts, which had a tendency to ride up her butt and cut off at midthigh, and her thin white tank top. Could he see her nipples? And jeez, Louise, why did they have to harden every time he came near her?

She pushed hair out of her face and began to pour the milk into his empty half gallon. “Help yourself to the fruit in the bowl there. Nell had leftovers. How much milk do you want?”

“Enough for a bowl of cereal, please. I’ll get some at the store later.” She’d only heard his voice drop as low and husky during sex. She stopped after she poured enough milk, then gave him extra.

Evan reached over her to open a nearby drawer. He took out a fork. He inserted it into the flesh of a peach slice and brought it to his lips.

“Forbidden fruit, hmm?”

He teased the fruit around his lips with a wicked smirk. He winked at her and sank his teeth into half the peach as he watched her, licking it. Her mouth went dry. Oh, he knew what he was doing. He chewed, licked his bottom lip, and held out the fork.

“Want some?”

Before she could gain common sense and say no, she closed her eyes and parted her lips. He slid the remaining slice in. Molly closed her mouth around it. He withdrew the fork tines slowly from her closed lips, and his finger grazed her lower lip.

“You’ve got a bit on your…”

She opened her eyes and sharply inhaled. He’d moved closer, right there, and was about to kiss her. She turned away, burning.

Bonus Excerpt (NSFW):

“You know”—he fingered a wayward strand of hair near her face—“we haven’t been alone together since…that night. Funny the way it comes back around, hmm? So, what were you and Grouchy McGee talking about a minute ago? What are you going through with?”

“Nothing. Just this new thing I may or may not try. It’s a sort of…makeover.”

He tilted his head and scanned her face. “Why do you need a makeover? You’re perfect as you are.”

She blushed and got busy with the batter. He’d continually shown an interest, no matter how study-obsessed or sleep-ridden she looked. She pretended it didn’t make a difference, but it more than flattered her; it made her feel special, desired. Once she’d stirred the batter enough, she put it in the pan to cook and found her gaze locked on his chest. Did he put on more muscle since they’d had sex? Or had it been too long since she’d seen him without his shirt? If she reached out, without too much effort, she’d touch him. She fought the urge, and he cracked a smile at her obvious dilemma.

She turned back to stir the eggs and kept her eyes averted and hands busy. “I-I don’t know. I’m going to try a new look. You know, to get ready to go to Paris.”

“So you’re still going to go, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He moved into her peripheral vision. His lips came right behind her ear, and his nose nudged her hair. She tensed.

“I’ve got to tell you, Molly, what happened between us…”

His warm hand slid around front, below her tank top. His fingers grazed her bare stomach, skin to skin. He waited, gauging her reaction.

“Is this okay?”

She almost shook her head, but she wanted his touch! She hadn’t gone without sex since being with him, but her body sang at the heat of his palm, and she realized she was starved for him, for what he and he alone could give her. She gave a barely there nod, and he continued to caress her stomach.

“What happened was… I don’t know what to call it. Amazing, sacred. We’ve kept it between you and me, but if you need someone—”

She gasped as his hand dived into her shorts and he slid his fingers over her clit, between her pussy lips. His fingers slowly made their way back up. He thumbed her sensitive nub, and she closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

“I’m here if you, you know, feel the need. No strings attached. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time now. But I have a feeling you already knew that.”

His voice dropped to a low and sexy growl. He moved his hand farther down, and she leaned her head back onto his shoulder as he thrust two fingers inside. He continued to stimulate her engorged clit while he steadily pumped in and out of her. She let out a small whimper, and his lips moved against her ear.

“Shh. Our little secret, right? I have a secret of my own. I can’t stop thinking about you. What you gave me, what we did together—do you think of me too? Hmm?”

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At the Heart of the Stone by: Roxanne D. Howard Cover Reveal

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Blurb:

Dreams are the perfect shelter for our fantasies, safe havens to step inside without changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change. During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life in busy London, things aren’t as ideal, as her long-term relationship with Charles, her controlling fiancé, has hit a dry spell. When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father’s funeral right in the middle of a high-stakes corporate merger, she heads back to face the demons from her past. What she doesn’t expect is to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall O’Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and right into her life, and the powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she’s dealing with the bitterness of being betrayed by Charles and his jealousy, Niall soon stirs Lark’s awareness of the superficiality of her existence and reawakens not only her sexuality, but her soul.

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Buy Link:

https://www.amazon.com/At-Heart-Stone-Roxanne-Howard/dp/1548826588/

Book Trailer:

Roxanne D. Howard, Author

Quality Erotic Romance with Substance.

Bio:

Roxanne D. Howard is a pseudonym that the author publishes romance novels under. Roxanne is a U.S. Army veteran, and has a bachelor’s degree in Psychology and English. She is a member of RWA PAN (Romance Writers of America Published Authors Network). She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. She is also an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and loves marine biology. She resides in the mid-west United States, and enjoys spending time with her husband and children when she’s not writing. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and she can be contacted at author@roxannedhoward.com.

Social Media and Links:

Website: www.roxannedhoward.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RoxanneDHoward

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100010437978489

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/roxanned.howard/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15019190.Roxanne_D_Howard

DRIFTER by Janine Infante Bosco Cover Reveal

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DRIFTER

by Janine Infante Bosco
Nomad Series #1
Publication Date: November 8, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense

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COVER CREDITS
Cover Designer: JB’s Cover Obsession Design
Model: Matthew Hosea
Photographer: Wander Pedro Aguiar
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Pre-order the biker full of dirty promises today on ITunes, Barnes & Amazon!

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Synopsis: “Stryker”
I’m a drifter.
A man born to ride through this world alone.
There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives.
I was going to be a true American hero.
But God had another plan.
Or maybe Satan did.
For everything I touch finds mortality.
I’m no hero.
I’m nothing.
I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell.
Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos.
The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes.
A girl who has the power to turn me inside out.
A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior.
Until she’s not.
But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.

Gina Spinelli

Strong. Independent. Fierce.
They are the three things I strived to be.
But sometimes being successful can be lonely.
Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her.
Maybe even love her.
Sometimes the strong become vulnerable.
Or worse, the victor becomes the victim.
Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you.
Defeated. Broken. Haunted.
They are the three things I have become.
In my darkest hour I admit defeat.
In my darkest hour I need one person.
I need him.
Stryker.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***

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Come Meet Author Janine Infante Bosco & Model Matthew Hosea at “Authors In The City” 3.11.17 in Raleigh, NC!

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#THENOMADSERIES

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DRIFTER EXCERPT

Silence.

It engulfs me, provides me with a false sense of security the moment I close my eyes and drags my subconscious into the depths of sleep. But, it’s quickly ripped from me by the sound of plagued screams. A woman shouts with a foreign tongue and though I don’t understand the Afghani language I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she’s yelling for her innocent child to run, to seek shelter and for the man with the laser pointed at the child’s head not to shoot.

I am the man with the sniper rifle.

I am the man perched on a roof, with my finger firmly wrapped around the trigger.

And that bitch just sent her fucking child to play in the sand with a bomb strapped to his back.

For a moment, I want to believe she’s not playing me—that her kid isn’t a ploy in some sick terrorist plot. I ignore the sounds of my men commanding me to take my shot, insisting that time is of the essence and if I don’t do it, I’m betraying my country. I loosen my finger around the trigger and open both my eyes and watch the boy lift a handful of sand through the scope attached to my rifle. He opens his palm and spreads his fingers wide letting the grains of sand fall through them before he looks back at his mother.

She shouts more of that foreign bullshit and I wish I could get my hands on her and slice her tongue from her mouth.

It’s the final thought that crosses my mind before I pull the trigger and watch the boy fall back into the sand as my bullet pierces him between his eyes–innocent eyes that were once wide with wonder now are dull and lifeless.

Sweat beads along my brow and I can feel the bile rise up my throat as I wait. Everything around me fades as I stare at the boy in the sand. I lose myself and question my purpose, my mission, my platoon—everything. The bomb doesn’t go off and I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I frantically peer into the scope, moving it to the right in search for the mother. I picture the Virgin Mary cradling her lifeless son that was pulled from the cross and wait for the woman dressed in black garb to do the same but she’s nowhere in sight.

Before I can divert my eyes back to the boy the blast erupts robbing me the opportunity to look into his eyes one final time because his head has been blown off his body and the fragments of him are now one with the sand he was playing with.

This is war.

And this is hell.

All that’s left is the sound of my own screams vibrating through my body, deafening as it pounds my eardrums and invades my head.

It’s those very screams that pull me from my sleep night after night and why I’ve given up on getting a full night’s rest, using my bed only to fuck and even that didn’t happen too often.

Until her.

I used to pound my dick into any willing pussy, never bringing them into my bed, believing I didn’t need that false sense of hope that I’m normal when I’ve got a woman wrapped around me, begging to spend the night in my arms after I’ve thoroughly fucked her—only for her to realize I’m fucked in the head when I wake her up screaming like a little bitch.

Yeah, I didn’t need that shit.

Hell, I didn’t want it.

Until her.

But I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve learned it the hard way. It’s the reason I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of a fucking filthy motel—waiting for the sun to rise as I stare at the battered and bruised woman in my bed, when all I want to do is climb in next to her and pull her into my arms—take away her pain and forget mine. I clench my fists and keep them pinned against the arms of the chair as I take in the dried up blood on her naturally pouty lips—lips that skimmed every inch of my body and I crave every night since.

I tear my eyes from her mouth and zero in on her closed eyes—eyes I know are pale green. Eyes once vibrant with life and mischief are now going to be full of torment and fear—when the swelling goes down and she can fucking open them again.

Her long brown hair is splayed across my pillow, matted with blood and knots from being fisted and pulled, leaving her scalp sore and just as bruised as the rest of her. I let my eyes travel the length of her, knowing the body she’s hiding behind her clothes matches her face in color and shame.

A knock sounds on my door and I tear my eyes away from the restless beauty, squirming between my sheets—wishing its pleasure that has her twisting and not torment.

Torment can’t be erased, it can’t be silenced—that shit sticks with you.

It lives inside you and destroys you, fractures your soul and rips your life to shreds.

I may have rescued her tonight but the woman in my bed is as good as dead. Her soul has been taken, chewed up and spit out by the men who attacked her—when she wakes up all she’ll know is grief.

She’ll mourn the life she had and wish the one she’s left with ends.

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#DRIFTINGINTOCHAOS

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ABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCO

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Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

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Maximum Rush By: Misti Murphy Cover Reveal


Title : Maximum Rush 

Author : Misti Murphy 

Genre: Romance 






Rush Hadley wants two months of my time in exchange for the only interview the magic man’s ever done. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. A make or break point in my journalism career. All I have to do is entertain the famous magician. 

                                                                        

A billionaire playboy who doesn’t understand the word no, he’s stubborn, one-track minded, and set on getting me into his bed. Men like him ruin girls like me with their dirty mouths and wicked tricks, but I’m not gullible enough to fall for his charms, even if his touch feels like magic. 

                                                                  

Maxi O’Keeffe is a sexy little challenge I intend to have my way with. She might have said no, might keep saying no, but I always get what I want. The quirky goody-two-shoes isn’t going to hold out forever. 

                                                       

Uncomfortably awkward and downright weird, she shouldn’t be the only person who gets me. She shouldn’t be more than a way to pass time in this boring old town. So why does she get me higher than any audience screaming my name?





Misti Murphy is a sadistic b*tch who loves to emotionally torture fictional people. If she did that in real life she’d probably end up in prison or a psych ward so she prefers to create dirty talking alphas and the sexually frustrated women who fall into their beds. And if someone needs to be smacked upside the head before f*cking turns to love then that makes her very happy indeed. 

She’s a huge believer in flaws making us human, and that not everyone likes bacon. She’s also addicted to chocolate and scared of the effects of the coming shortage. She swears like a f*cking trooper, and thinks that graphic smuttiness should be as real in fiction as it is in real life. 

When she’s not writing she’s the perfect housewife and mother. Ha bloody ha! When she’s not writing she’s hiding in a cupboard with her kindle, scoffing chocolate, and stalking facebook.  









Overdose By: Raven St. Pierre Cover Reveal

OVERDOSE: A British Bad Boy Romance

Release Date: October 9th, 2016

**Special Notice: This romance is of the darker variety, contains adult themes and sexually explicit content. The hero is flawed and dirty. Consider yourself warned**
Insomniac.
Narcissist.
Sex addict.
…the only description sex therapist, Vanessa Ferris, was given of her newest patient, a fellow psychologist, Dr. Zander Hale.
From the moment he entered her office, she knew he’d be trouble—possibly the good kind. What she wasn’t prepared for was how he’d blindside her; how he would challenge everything she thought she knew about her profession, about herself.
There are certain lines a doctor is warned never to cross with their patients, but she didn’t listen.
Now, they’re both addicted.
One hit was all it took.
***AUTHOR NOTE: “OVERDOSE” is a full-length standalone, bursting at the seams with sexual heat, thanks to one smoking hot, bad-boy and his feisty, no nonsense therapist. Expect a dark tale of erotic romance with no cliffhanger. This story is not for the faint of heart and is definitely intended for readers 18 and older.
(130,000+ words)
***TRIGGER WARNING: Please be advised, this book contains a brief, nondescript reference to sexual abuse and other violent acts that some readers may find offensive.
The Cover
(Designed by Raven St. Pierre)
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The Trailer
About the Author:

A native of the Midwest, Raven has been writing for most of her life. Dreams of becoming a full-time writer seemed afar off, but she’s ecstatic to say that dream has been realized. In addition to growing her list of completed works, she also does some writing/publishing/marketing consulting on the side. With several novels already published, she looks forward to adding many more in the years to come. If you enjoy stories told from the heart with beautifully flawed characters, then she definitely has something just for you.

Where to find her:
Amazon | Blog | Facebook | Newsletter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Twitter: @RavenStPierre

Beyond The Friend Zone A Writing Wenches Anthology Cover Reveal Part 4

Beyond The Friend Zone A Writing Wenches Anthology

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Blurb:

It’s an age old story; you start as friends but end up lovers. There’s just something about the trope that we readers love to read, and we writers love to write.

That is why for our new anthology, The Writing Wenches bring you a whole book of short stories that follow the friends to lovers path.

We have sweet stories and spicy stories, and everything in between. Though these are not just any romance shorts, when given our theme, many of us went quirky. We ended up with nine authors guaranteed to make you fall in love with their new characters and their quirky styles.

Authors:

Sheri Williams, A.E. Snow, Maria Arell, Kay Blake, Colleen S Myers,  Danielle Donaldson

Suzie JayGrace Ravel & Michael Simko

Amazon Pre Order Link:

https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Friend-Zone-Writing-Anthology-ebook/dp/B01JDLTYB2

If you want to find out more about the writing wenches check out our website below:

Writing Wenches

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Playing Royal By: Misti Murphy Cover Reveal


Title : Playing Royal 

Author Misti Murphy 

Genre : Romance 







If the glass slipper fits…


Allie


It’s hard to remember that love is a fairy tale when he comes to my bar.


He’s a complete stranger, an escort, an actor.


Now I’m playing his princess.


I don’t love the pretense, but the glimpses of the real man, those I crave.


Until the clock strikes midnight and this Cinderella finds out what the real stakes are.


Kaiser


An escort? That might be who I pretend to be. In reality? A crown prince.


I’ve been running from who I am for so long that I ran into a problem.


A pretty, dark haired, hazel-eyed, problem.


A girl who is all wrong for the life I’m supposed to lead.


The bigger problem? I like who I am when I’m with her.


Not the escort.


Not the prince.


The real me.


But it can’t last, not when my real life is catching up with me.


Can it?







Misti Murphy is a sadistic b*tch who loves to emotionally torture fictional people. If she did that in real life she’d probably end up in prison or a psych ward so she prefers to create dirty talking alphas and the sexually frustrated women who fall into their beds. And if someone needs to be smacked upside the head before f*cking turns to love then that makes her very happy indeed. 

She’s a huge believer in flaws making us human, and that not everyone likes bacon. She’s also addicted to chocolate and scared of the effects of the coming shortage. She swears like a f*cking trooper, and thinks that graphic smuttiness should be as real in fiction as it is in real life. 

When she’s not writing she’s the perfect housewife and mother. Ha bloody ha! When she’s not writing she’s hiding in a cupboard with her kindle, scoffing chocolate, and stalking facebook.