Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Beautiful Lies...


Title: Beautiful Lies
Author: Gina Whitney        
Genre: Erotic Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Synopsis:

Enigmatic Cameron Sterling is quickly rising through the ranks at New York’s most prestigious and corrupt law firm Wotherspoon and Associates. He has willfully avoided any meaningful personal relationships and is content to casually hook up with Becky, a young woman who fancies herself as his actual girlfriend. As a child, Cam witnessed his father murder his mother, and this was the genesis of his relationship-avoidance issue. The only thing he cares about now is becoming a partner at Wotherspoon and Associates. Cam is obsessed with the promotion and will not let anything—or anyone—stand in his way.

But when Cam crosses paths with Lilly Amsel, a fashion model, the edges of his well laid plans begin to fray. At first, Cam is unimpressed by Lilly’s exaggerated effervescence and entitled air. However, he is taken aback by her incredible beauty—legs as long as an Amazon’s, silky honeyed-hair, and blazing body. This undeniable physical attraction disturbs Cam on all levels, leaving him intrigued by Lilly and wanting to get away from her at the same time. 

Lilly is strongly aroused by Cam’s moody presence. His dark, erotic looks and heady scent ignite long-dormant embers of wanton desire buried deep within her. Practically hypnotized, she finds her body reacting in the most surprising and carnal of ways. However, the two separate and never expect to see each other again, but somehow they manage to still linger on each other. Lilly’s larger-than-life persona that Cam initially encountered is a sham, though. It is a well-crafted costume that masks deeply rooted insecurity and an unfortunate dependence on prescription drugs. This stems from a horrifically abusive childhood that she is trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to forget. Her mediocre modeling career was the perfect vehicle for her to escape that tumult and simultaneously receive acceptance and praise. It did not matter to Lilly that the kudos were based on superficial assumptions. She was still almost satisfied with the result and what modeling could not fix, the drugs could. 

Enthrallment and lust have other plans, though. Despite their best efforts to stay apart, Cam and Lilly come back together and embark on a tempestuous affair. For both of them, a torrid weekend getaway in the mountains unleashes years of pent-up sexual frustration and destroys inhibitions. Cam has no problem taking charge as he relishes Lilly’s delicious inner nectar. Again and again, Cam delivers Lilly pleasure she has never known before, leaving her trembling as she reclaims the goddess within.



Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and

obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.



Links:



Buy Links:

Chapter One

If I had known then that Lilly Amsel would set such a fierce blaze in my life, I would have taken the next elevator.
All I wanted that morning was to get a hard run on the treadmill and go to my office to put in some weekend overtime. I arrived at The Equity, the most prestigious gym not only in New York City but in the country, and was checking my work-issued Blackberry as usual. I tended to avoid such pretentious settings, but membership was one of the many perks of my employment at Wotherspoon and Associates. As a law student at Aldensburg University, I had interned at the corporate law firm and had been offered a position after I’d passed the bar five years ago. Aldensburg was not as premier a college when compared to the Ivies; in fact most people have never heard of it. But, like me, it got the job done. And professionally the job I was trying to get done now was making partner. I know it was an ambitious goal, but I had nothing but faith in my skills to make it happen.
For the moment I was there at The Equity in my sagging basketball shorts and stretched-out T-shirt, standing amid chichi air kissers. I was not there to hobnob; I actually had a serious goal. I worked out not only to maintain my body but to keep my mind sharp, focused, and ready at all times. That was what separated me from those people. I was a shark among peacocks.
The cheerless receptionist with the sucked-in cheeks eyed me as I stepped through the door. I could see her hostile nostrils widen like a bull’s as she feigned a barely polite smile. She knew who I was but played this ridiculous game with me every day. Always pretending not to know me.
“I’m sorry, sir. You must be looking for the gym down the street.”
That was her way of telling me that my choice of clothing was not up to par, and I might consider some more appropriate attire. I had known plenty of people like her growing up and knew that the best way to handle her was to be in her face every chance I got, to be the proverbial pebble in her shoe. I swiped my security pass card and told her, “See you tomorrow.”
The Equity was an “it” destination for celebrities and all manner of the rich and powerful. The entry level consisted of a wide, stark-white hallway with electric-blue tube lights lining the walls and ceiling, and filled with the ethereal melody of a string orchestra. This main hallway connected with several more, with the last one ending a spacious, low-lit lounge area. Scattered about were suede couches and glass tables; black-and-white photos of perfectly sculpted body parts hung on the walls. This was where those who came to be seen strategically posed themselves just in case an undercover paparazzo managed to sneak in. The lounge was usually empty in the morning because its denizens could not manage to roll out of bed until well into the afternoon.
I made my way across the rugs to yet another hall that led to a bank of elevators. I pushed the “up” button, eager to start my workout. Then I heard the quick click clack of feminine footsteps come up behind me. I sighed because I knew those shoes—probably high heels—were not made for running. This was just another pampered pest whose idea of working out was getting a massage. I did not even have to turn around to figure this chick out.
Her heavy perfume was layered with the fresh smell of soap and shampoo. Typical of someone who saw the gym as a social occasion rather than a place to exercise. I never had patience with lackadaisical people who were not willing to put in the effort to achieve anything. I wanted so badly to turn around and say, “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be having Sunday brunch over at Peacock Alley?”  
However, I was not there to judge. I was there to work out. But I was curious as to who was standing behind me. I looked into the stainless-steel door of the elevator to see if I could make out the reflection. The dull surface only revealed that the grayish silhouette behind me was tall and lanky. Not as tall as me at six foot three, but tall nonetheless.  
Then a hoard of more click-clacking footsteps arrived, accompanied by raucously shrill voices greeting the first woman. I thought, Oh god. Jersey girls.
“Lilly!” they all screamed in unison.
The first woman, Lilly, chirped back. “Sweetie pies, how are you?” 
One nasally voice responded, “Fine if you like your nipples turning into Popsicles. It’s cold as hell out there. What’s on your agenda today? ”
“Pilates with Jean-Paul. Thirty minutes.”
“What is he? A slave driver?” another woman said seriously with a croaky smoker’s voice.
“I know, right?” Lilly agreed. All I could do was roll my eyes at that nonsense.    
Lilly had an odd way of speaking that only a discerning ear could pick up. She was trying her best to affect a newscaster accent, that plain Midwestern way of speaking. However, she would occasionally slip into an upward inflection that made every sentence sound like a question. She was definitely a So-Cal transplant. It was beyond me why, in the midst of shudder-inducing Jersey accents, Lilly hid her natural one.
As the elevator numbers slowly ticked down, I noticed in my peripheral vision the number of men passing. They were all doing double takes at Lilly. Either she was gorgeous or hideous beyond measure. Either way, it did not matter to me. I had seen plenty of both and was not swayed by the slop or gloss of anything. An ethics professor a long way back even accused me of being jaded. What he could not understand was that when your life has been a trial by fire, you see things differently from most. The world and all the people in it are just opportunities for you to get what you need. You can’t depend on anyone but yourself. When you have lived in a cushioned bubble like the professor, you just don’t get that. Needless to say I barely passed that class.
The elevator finally arrived, and the herd of new-money cows stampeded past me to get in. I turned back, and Lilly was waiting for me to usher her out like I was the doorman. Sure enough she was decked out in black from head to toe—leggings, turtleneck, and those clacking ankle boots. She had a leather bag brimming with Voss water and vitamin blister packs. She appeared to be in her early twenties, so I was perplexed as to why she needed so many pills.
Still, I must admit that I was taken aback by how beautiful she was. Her hair, pushed back and glossed into a tight bun, reminded me of dark honey, and her graceful, lithe body looked like that of a ballet dancer. And those eyes—they were extraordinarily large orbs of malachite rimmed in chestnut. However, no matter how pouty her dewy lips were, Lilly still acted like an entitled elitist, so pampered that she probably considered Park Slope to be the ghetto.
I watched her standing there looking at me. This woman was used to people fawning all over her, and I was not one to do that. I did not grovel or bow down to anybody. But no matter what I felt about her at the moment, I decided to do the gentlemanly thing.
“Ladies first,” I said.
Lilly sashayed past me and joined her tacky and deeply moneyed crew. As she crossed the threshold of the elevator, she gave me a “thanks” that was nowhere near sincere. I spent the elevator ride to the third floor listening to her companions’ boisterous gossip about other women at the club. Yet I did not hear Lilly utter any comment. I just felt her eyes laser beaming my back. Apparently she was still shocked and pissed that I didn’t think she was the shit.

* * *

“Lilly, you forgot your water,” Jean-Paul yelled out to me. He had been my Pilates instructor for the past six years—my entire time in New York. After I finished my thirty-minute workout with him, I got some fresh acrylics in the spa. I was preparing for an interview with Paramour Life, fashion’s most prominent magazine, later that afternoon. Though I was modeling, the interview was not about me. It was really about my boyfriend of two years, Sig Krok. Sig had come from Sweden twenty years ago and started his own fashion house, Klå. Klå. It quickly became one of the best-selling clothing lines in the world.
This article would be a tribute to Sig. The magazine just wanted my perspective of him and a little insider knowledge of our highly visible yet terribly private relationship.  
With discreet sleight of hand, Jean-Paul handed me my property, and it was not really water. It was my bottle of Klonopin.
“I know how important water is,” he said then quickly dismissed himself to his next scheduled client. I watched him for a moment. I was in awe and bewilderment over how he mastered the art of prancing and swaying like a seasoned burlesque dancer. He really had to teach me that sometime.
Realizing I was running out of time before the interview and still had to get my makeup done, I abruptly turned around to leave. And I turned right into Mr. Scowl—the guy at the elevator this morning. Aw, just great, I thought.
“Excuse me,” I said as I started walking away. By then he had put on some more weather-appropriate clothing—jeans and a cable-knit sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. And the creep did not even respond to me, smirking his arrogant mouth instead. Even though he was pompous, he was kind of cute. Though it was the middle of winter, his skin looked sun kissed. He was a giant of a man, well over six feet tall. His luminous, copper eyes seemed like they were always narrowed, like he was annoyed with people because they were merely human and could not withstand his survey.
I headed toward the elevator, and he did the same. When we got there, I started pushing buttons in hopes it would make the elevator come faster. The bell dinged, and he let me on first. I could tell he didn’t want to but was trying to be The Man.
We stood in opposite corners. By then most men would have engaged me in conversation. He hadn’t. Was he gay? No, I had a fairly accurate gaydar. What was wrong with him then? I was becoming increasingly irritated by this man’s presence. I glanced over at him. He was wiping his sweaty brow, and his hand pushed up his cap a bit, exposing his inky hair cut with perfect precision around the edges. The cap was thready and had a large A on the front. He probably had gotten it from some college a while back. I also noticed that on the underside of the cap’s bill, he had written his name in permanent marker: Cam.  
Even though he grated on me, I could not help but be distracted by his body. He had Adonis-like shoulders, broad and protective. His thick thighs were agape, his wide stance taking up a good deal of space. This square-jawed man was definitely broody, but even without a smile, I could make out the dimple in his cheek. And I did not even want to get started on the size of his hands and feet. They were enormous.
The air vent was blowing a light, steady stream of air across Cam. I inhaled the heady scent of his newly sweaty body intermingled with a woodsy deodorant. I leaned in his direction. One of my eyes went on autopilot and fluttered—that thing that happens when something is real good. I took another breath and leaned in some more.  
Wait! What…the fuck…am I doing? I caught myself right before my nose landed on Cam’s arm. And there he was with the same “what the fuck?” look. He was staring at me going for his pit with my crazy eye. He obviously thought I was about to rape him.
Quick, deflect. I pointed at my ear. “I thought you said something.” I regained my composure and returned my gaze forward.
But he sure did smell good. And boy, was I horny.
WhateverI wasn’t going to say anything else to Cam. He was still nothing but an aloof, smug asshole to me. And I had to endure what seemed like a forever ride to the first floor with him. I turned my face back to the elevator doors with just the sound of the motors and cables to break the silence.
I was so relieved to get out of the elevator, I practically sprinted into the parking garage. I slung my faux fur over my shoulders as I rushed to Sig’s Infiniti QX80. Cam was trailing me, sliding into his leather jacket. And I just knew he was about to ask me for my number despite that fiasco in the elevator. Maybe I hadn’t lost my touch. I was prepared to shoot him down, of course. But he sure was taking his time. I was already at Sig’s SUV.
However, not only did Cam not ask me for my number, he was only walking behind me because he had parked his powerful, black Harley 1200 Custom next to me. He spread his thick legs and straddled it then put on his Aviator sunglasses and revved up his baby. I had to say, that motorcycle…the way it just hung between his legs…looked more like a big, hard dick than anything else.
Cam turned the twist grip like it was his cock and throttled up. The rumble from the motorcycle bounced off the concrete walls of the garage. It was almost deafening. He didn’t care. In fact, if I hadn’t known any better, I would have sworn he’d done it on purpose. I was totally conflicted. Never had I so detested a man and still wanted to fuck the skin off his dick at the same time.
Alas, Cam drove off without even looking in my direction. I let out an audible gasp. No straight male ever looked at me and just turned away.


Hmm…maybe my gaydar was in need of a tune-up. 




Bolt From the Blue Cover Reveal...






Nikki’s the flamboyant rhythm guitarist of the hard rock band Oblivion. He’s a sexy rock star man-whore who’s accustomed to a life of music, partying and a constant stream of girls that are ready, willing and able! 

Trixie’s a feisty party girl who likes to have fun. She makes the most of her single lifestyle and happy-go-lucky attitude. But she’s also a hard-nosed business women who knows what she wants and goes out and gets it. She lives her life by the motto ‘Work hard. Play hard’.

Neither of them ‘do relationships’. But when their frequent hook-ups start to develop into something more they realize that the connection and pull between them is undeniable. The prospect of wanting more than just mind-blowing sex from each other is a total shock to both of them and it hits them like a bolt from the blue. 

Can they change their partying ways and give in to the irresistible chemistry that sizzles between them? Do they even want to? And will their past catch up with them to prevent them from giving the whole relationship thing a proper try?






The first thing you need to know about me is that I genuinely believe in true love and soul mates. I met my wonderful husband when we were still at school. I was sixteen, he was seventeen, we are high school sweethearts. Now more than twenty five years later, we are still very much in love and are happily married with two beautiful children. We live in picturesque New Zealand and I consider ourselves lucky to live in this magnificent part of the world.

I do have a full time job, but in my spare minutes I enjoy spending time with my family, cooking and reading. I’m an avid reader and tend to chomp through a large volume of books, mainly in the romance genre. And of course my other major ‘hobby’ is writing steamy rock star erotic romances!

I started writing in early 2014. After spending many years writing business documentation, and constantly being inspired by numerous romance novels, I decided to try my hand at fictional writing. After penning my first scene I discovered that I enjoyed it immensely and so resolved to continue with the rest of the story that was swirling in my imagination. That story resulted in my first novel, Heaven Sent. 

My Oblivion on Tour Series follows the five band members of the hard rock group Oblivion. Each book in the series follows a different band member and their quest for love.
Book 1 - Heaven Sent - Ash and Eve’s story
Book 2 - Bolt From The Blue - Nikki and Trixie’s story

Books 3, 4 & 5 will each tell Cody, Scott and Hansen’s stories.
I hope you enjoy reading my books as much as I enjoy writing them.

Find Tania Here

Jump on the Tour TODAY!




 

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Being A Jett Girl Review...


Being a Jett Girl Synopsis:
How did I become a Jett Girl?
Hell if I know, one moment I’m working at the premiere spot for creepy men and sloppy drunks and the next, I’m being whisked away by a moody ex-boxer and a mysterious man in a suit that overlooks his girls from the third floor of the Lafayette Club.
It wasn’t easy but now that I’m a Jett Girl, there is only one thing on my mind and that is Jett Colby.
He has captured me, stolen my heart and entwined my soul into his at such an alarming rate that it seems almost difficult to breathe without him holding me, touching me, kissing me...


 He won’t give me his heart though, he won’t let me own every last inch of him and not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t want to jeopardize my ambiguity.
Because of this, there is only one thing standing in my way when it comes to completely and utterly living my life with Jett Colby and it’s called Lot 17.
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REVIEWS BY KAYLA:


Becoming A Jett Girl (Book 1):
I enjoyed the start to this new series. Jett is now another one of my favorite book boyfriends. He is sexy, handsome, and complicated but that is always fun. Goldie is working a crummy job as a waitress. Jett offers her a deal that she can’t refuse. But there will be no love. Goldie trains to be a Jett girl but its not her fairytale ending she had been hoping for. Goldie is torn between Rex and Jett. Will she become a Jett girl or will she leave? I am looking forward to the rest of this series. I give this book a 4 out of 5 stars!


Being A Jett Girl (Book 2):
I really enjoyed this book. Goldie is an awesome character and I really think she is hilarious. She is a very strong female lead. I was glad to see that she is slowing breaking down Jett’s walls. I can’t wait to see what they are up to in book three. The friendships between all the Jett girls are great. I wish I could be a part of their crazy antics. Kace is even hotter than in book one and I can’t wait for his story. I liked meeting Diego and I hope to find out more about him in future books. I am enjoying this series. I give this books 4 out of 5 stars!


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Meghan Quinn Bio:
When I was in high school I occasionally read books but was consumed by other teenage things so I didn't take the time to appreciate a good book on a cloudy day, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. It wasn't until I received a Kindle for Christmas one year that my world completely flipped upside down. When looking for books I came across the Contemporary Romance genre and was sold and I haven't turned back since.
You can either find my head buried in my Kindle, listening to inspiring heart ripping music or typing away on the computer twisting and turning the lives of my characters while driving my readers crazy with anticipation.
I currently reside in beautiful Colorado Springs where the sun is always shining and there is a trail waiting to be hiked on every corner. I share a lovely and warm home with the love of my life and my five, four-legged.

Links:
Buy Links:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Being a Jett Girl Goodreads
Becoming a Jett Girl: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads


Forever Found...

Forever Found RDL

It's release day for Nazarea Andrews' Forever Found!! I am so excited for this novella, a sequel to Girl Lost. For the first time, Nazarea is telling Peter Pan's story from Peter's eyes. Be sure to read all the way down for the excerpt she's sharing, as well as her fantastic giveaway!

Blogs Taking Part in the Release Day Launch

Bookworm Misfit
Bookworm Misfit

Exclusive Excerpt:

“You ran away.”

She gives an unladylike snort. “You decided you were a delusion of my past, and then you expected me to sit there and listen to your insane ramblings. Thanks, but no. I can’t do that. I’ve had enough crazy for one life.” She bites her lip, and then blurts, “You stole my file, didn’t you? That’s how you know about the Boy.”

“Do you remember the firefly meadow?”

She goes still, and I smile, gently. “You do.”

“That wasn’t real,” she whispers, and I feel the shudder.

“We’d hide there, from the lost boys. And you’d fall asleep telling me your happy thoughts, and wake up to a galaxy of fireflies, and we’d chase them until you made yourself sick, laughing. And then I’d hold you and we’d stare at the stars, and you always said they were different. It smelled like jasmine and honey-“

“And wild woods and freedom,” she whispers, her blue eyes impossibly wide in her pretty face. I take a tentative step toward her, and touch her fingers.

Why are your stars different?

“It wasn’t a delusion, Gwendy. You know it wasn’t. Trust yourself.”

She shudders. “Can’t. My mind lies. It wasn’t—“

“Gwendy,” I say, desperately. Her eyes are filling with tears and I can feel the disbelief, the way it will tear apart the world I’ve known, and the girl I’ve loved, and I can’t. I move without thinking, catch her head and bring her lips to mine.

Neverland series banner

Forever Found Synopsis:

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00025]

Losing Gwen was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to survive. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her.

But finding her was never about that. And now that I have found her–now that she knows the truth about me and the Island, I have to trust her to believe. Because her leaving me didn’t just destroy me–its killing Neverland.

I need her to love me. But we all need her to believe again.

Peter Pan has grown up and found the girl who left–but the stakes are higher than ever in this romantic conclusion to the story begun in Girl Lost.


Forever Found Barnes and Nobles: pending



Girl Lost Synopsis:

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00025]
Northern was supposed to be a fresh start—a place where people didn’t know who I was or how I had spent years in and out of mental institutes. People didn't know about my parents death or the island no one heard of. But when Peter sits next to me in lit class, I can’t stop the memories, and I don’t want to. He looks too much like the boy from the island, and despite my best intentions, coaxes my secrets from me.


He’s gorgeous, irresistible, a little mad, and completely lost—we are a pair of broken cogs in a world neither of us truly fits into. He is somehow gentle and fierce, heartbreaking in his devotion and savage in his defense.

When Belle, his best friend, shows up, pale and lovely and sick, Peter pulls away from me, a startling withdrawal. It’s a relationship that scares and confuses me. She is at times warm and friendly, and other times is violent and unpredictable.

Peter says that he wants me, but refuses to let himself get close. And there are secrets, surrounding both of us, that border on nightmares. As the memories close in, as Belle gets sicker and more violent, I’m torn between what is true and what I believe, and what this magical boy knows about my mysterious past.

Nazarea Andrews Bio:

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Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She is the author of the University of Branton series, Neverland Found series, and Edge of the Falls.


She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog. You can follow her on Facebook and Twitter.


Enter Nazarea's giveaway!!