Saturday, September 13, 2014

Constructing Us Blitz & Giveaway!

Constructing Us by C.J. Lake 
Publication date: July 18th 2014
Genres: New Adult, Romance


*Contains explicit/steamy scenes that are intended for mature readers.

When Andy takes over the lease on her friend Ethan’s apartment, he warns her about his roommate, Tragan. According to Ethan, Tragan Barrett is self-centered and often inconsiderate, caring more about hanging out with his friends and hitting the local casino than straightening the living room or keeping up with his laundry. Andy isn’t too concerned, though, because she isn’t moving in to make a friend.

Intended as a short-term living arrangement, the apartment is close to the hospital where Andy is participating in a drug study for a rare disorder she was diagnosed with when she was twenty. Now, fresh out of college, she is trying to figure out her life–and also how to live with the uncertainty of her condition. Figuring she’ll go one way and he’ll go another, Andy is surprised to learn that Tragan is not exactly the way Ethan painted him. In fact, there’s a whole other side to the darkly sexy construction worker…especially when it comes to Andy.

Can an unlikely friendship turn into something much more?



a Rafflecopter giveaway


C.J. Lake is a storyteller who is passionate about art, surfing, and skiing/snowboarding. Residing near the coast of Massachusetts, C.J. is working on a new book that will feature Tragan Barrett's friend, Matt Winter. Readers can get in touch via email (, or follow C.J. on Twitter @brightbluesurf.

Madness Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

By J.L. Vallance


I never wanted to fall in love.

I lived a life tainted by mental illness and the stigma that came with it. That illness almost claimed my life once and I had a promise to keep¬¬, a promise that I would live, no matter how much it hurt. All I craved in life was marginal happiness, a little success, and an unfractured mind. I longed for the normalcy that the rest of the world thrived on while fearing the intimacy that could snap the thin thread with which I held onto sanity.

I may not have had it all, but I was close...until he crashed into my world.

He turned everything upside down and shifted the scales of my balanced world. He was charming and charismatic with a healthy dash of trouble and volatility rolled in. He was completely and perfectly damaged. I tumbled hard and fast.

I fell in love with Rory O’Neill and our world was little more than madness....and it was fucking beautiful. 

Available for purchase at 



“What do you want from me, O’Neill?”
Rory released a heavy sigh, leaning back in the chair. He studied me carefully, as if he were attempting to solve a puzzle. He could try for the rest of his life; I was one jigsaw he’d never be able to solve.
“To date you,” he replied simply, and I belted out a laugh.
“Why?” I asked, continuing without allowing for an answer. “You are the type that goes on dates to get the prize at the end. You got the prize, buddy. You didn’t even have to work for it. If you are coming back because you think I’m a big skank-bank and you can get a withdrawal whenever you want, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
It was his turn to laugh. It was an erotic sound that put my already frayed nerves on a higher, more precarious edge than they had been. I followed his posture and leaned back, but instead of holding my stomach in gut busting laughter, I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Is that what you think this is?” he gasped. “Christ, I could have slept with at least seventy women since you.”
“Is that supposed to win me over?”
“Yes,” he answered seriously. “I have no problem picking women up.”
I didn’t doubt that. Hadn’t since the night I’d met him. It was the charisma, the mega-watt smile, the sultry sex-filled voice. His body, smile, voice, and touch promised a good night in the making if one simply took his hand.
I want to take his fucking hand. . .
“Good, then you won’t be alone tonight,” I replied, moving to rise from the table when he reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“I don’t want other women, Francesca. I want you,” he said, the smile missing from his face.
“I’ve wanted nothing but you since November.”
I shook my head.
“I’m not like other women, Mr. O’Neill.”
“Please, call me—”
“Rory, it doesn’t matter what I call you. The message will remain the same.”
“Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe that’s what I like about you?” he countered.
No, no I didn’t. Being different is what set me apart—in a bad way. That’s what makes people dislike me. Not that I mind that—being disliked. I’ve spent the majority of my life being different, being an outsider. I am the woman that I am, with the issues I have, and that fact will never change. I’m proud of the obstacles I have overcome and look forward to defeating the ones that are waiting in the wings.
“You don’t know me to know whether you like me or not,” I argued. My dad had always told me I’d be great for the debate team.
“I know what I felt with you.”
“You felt tequila,” I replied. “And my vagina. Go find some Cuervo and a willing participant and repeat.”
“First, I have a high tolerance. That tequila barely touched me. Quit trying to downplay what happened between us. Take a little responsibility.”
“Ha!” I belted, placing a hand over my mouth. “Listen, we had a really great time. But I don’t date, I don’t do romance or happily ever after. That’s not written in my stars.”
“What is written in your stars?” he asked with a quirk of the brow.

“A bright future with me, myself, and I.”

About the Author

J. L. Vallance is a wife, mom, and nurse by day, while posing as a writer by night. Plagued with an overactive imagination, a lover of all things supernatural in nature, she has an extraordinary flair for the dramatic that adds flavor to life. There’s little in her world that Otis Redding and buttercream icing can’t fix. And of course, coffee always helps too. True story.



One single anchor bracelet
One anchor and infinity bracelet
One anchor necklace with stamped pendant that says "You are my anchor".
One necklace with a gun charm and a stamped pendant that says "I keep a close watch on this of mine".
And two ecopies of Madness

Friday, September 12, 2014

The Silver Crescent Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

The Silver Crescent
Debby Grahl

Publisher: The Writer's Coffee Shop

ISBN-10: 1612132081
ISBN-13: 978-1612132082

Page Number: 244 pages

Book Description:

Betrayal, murder and a stolen fortune bring Elise Baxter to Cedar Bend, Michigan, on a quest to solve a family mystery—and recover the missing treasure.

Max Holt impulsively buys a crumbling Victorian mansion and fulfills his dream of restoring it as a restaurant and inn. Aware of its reputation for being haunted, he adds to the mystique by building a garden path of old tombstones, one of which belongs to the original owner of the house, Cyrus Mosby—the man whose legacy Elise has traced, and who allegedly stole her ancestral share of a Colorado silver mine over a century ago.

Following clues gleaned from old diaries and a visit from the spirit of her great-great-grandmother, Elise seeks out Max and his inn. Not knowing if she can trust Max with her family secret, Elise pretends her interest is in researching Cyrus, whose own violent death remains a mystery.

An intense attraction between Max and Elise leads him to believe she may be the girl of his dreams. But when he discovers her true interest in him and his inn, memories of a past betrayal threaten to end their passionate relationship. Elise, finding herself falling in love with Max, fears her deception may cost her more than she is willing to lose.

Once persuaded the stolen silver is hidden somewhere in the inn, and captivated by the idea of a treasure hunt, Max and Elise begin the search together, aided by the resident ghosts, Cyrus and Virginia.

The treasure hunt seems like a harmless adventure until someone tries to steal the diaries. Unknown to Max and Elise, there are others—including an evil presence—who are driven by greed and will stop at nothing to unlock the mystery of the Silver Crescent.

Available at Amazon and BN

As though an invisible force were pulling him back, Max made a U-turn and drove up an overgrown, tree-lined drive to a three-story Victorian home surrounded by an unkempt lawn.
His pulse quickened as he stepped from the car. With childish delight, he stared at the house’s crumbling gingerbread trim, peeling paint, and cracked windows.
Max smiled. His day may just have improved. He glanced around. The house seemed deserted. Should he go in? At worst, he’d get caught trespassing. He carefully walked up the rotted steps onto the long columned porch. At least the stained-glass fanlight above the front door was still intact. He tried the door. Finding it unlocked, he called, “Hel-lo, is anyone here?”
Not getting a reply, he stepped into the wide entry hall.      
A strange sense of belonging came over him as he took in his surroundings. To his right, a curving mahogany staircase rose to an open landing on the second floor. Doorways lined the central hall to the rear of the house. It felt almost as if he’d been there before, but he knew that was impossible. Feeling somewhat foolish, he shook off the strange sensation and again called, “Hello?”
When  the  house  remained  silent,  he  began  to  wander  through  the spacious, empty rooms. Each step he took revealed intricate carved moldings, Adams fireplace mantels, and smiling cherub medallions above dusty crystal chandeliers.
His mind overflowing with ideas for restoring the house, Max didn’t notice the growing cold until he paused in the library doorway. Turning to see where the draft was coming from, his eyes were caught by a portrait that hung above a brick fireplace—a beautiful woman, dressed in a long, dove-gray satin dress with a fitted jacket. As he stared into her blue-green eyes, they seemed to shift to look over his shoulder. An icy chill ran up his spine.
“What the hell?”
He spun around, but the hall was empty. He shook his head. Come on, Max. Get a grip. You’re alone in an old house, and your imagination is playing tricks. The portrait’s eyes did not move.
Yet, when he turned back, he could have sworn the woman made eye contact with him. He swallowed hard. This is crazy. Paintings in old houses are always creepy.
Still uneasy, he studied the room more closely. His forehead creased in puzzlement. The other rooms he’d gone through had been empty, but in here the ceiling-high shelves still held books. The Persian rug seemed almost new. The antique mahogany desk and other furnishings could have been there since the house was built but looked clean and cared for.
Again, he shook his head. Weird.
He crossed the room to look out a tall French window that flanked the fireplace. Max imagined the weed-choked yard as a pristine expanse of manicured lawn sloping down to a curving path through the trees, leading to the stream below, and thought of his architect friend, Jack Callaghan. I’ll bet Jack could design an outdoor terrace for summer dining.
He smiled, thinking of the delight on Jack’s wife, Kathy’s, face when he asked her to do the interior decorating. His biggest challenge would be talking his friend Oliver into leaving his job as a sous-chef in Boston to come work for him.
Having a passion for restoring old houses, Max’s dream had always been to open his own restaurant and inn. But after graduating with an MBA, he had taken a job as business manager for a small electronics company. Now a large corporation was buying the company and Max felt the time was right for him to leave and pursue his dream.
Max smiled. Fate had definitely intervened and led him to this house. Still gazing out the window, his mind bursting with ideas, a sound behind him made him jump. Turning, Max scanned the room. He saw no one, but the sense he wasn’t alone had his palms growing damp.
He cocked his head, listening. The sound of his own breathing was all he heard. I’m as jumpy as a bunch of little girls.
Max tried to ignore the eerie sensation as he headed for the door. He’d only taken a few steps when he saw an object lying on the floor near the desk. He bent down to pick it up and frowned. Silver-gray in color, it was the shape of a crescent moon and made of heavy glass. A paperweight, perhaps?
As he placed it back on the desk, he noticed that the surface was polished to a glassy finish. The object must have fallen from the desk, and that had been the sound he’d heard, but how? Mystified, his attention was again drawn to the woman in the portrait. Her eyes seemed so real he could have sworn she was trying to tell him something.
Shaking off the sensation, he went to explore the rest of the house.
Upstairs, he found the master bedroom with an adjoining sitting room and a balcony that overlooked the stream. In the attached bath, the antiquated claw-foot tub and pedestal sink suited the house, but he’d replace them with a modern shower and whirlpool tub. There were six additional bedrooms and four more baths. Plenty of room for paying guests.
Back downstairs, he ended up in a small conservatory off the kitchen. The house needed some updates, but with the money he’d saved, and if he did most of the work himself, he could do it.
…Max grinned at the prospect of telling his boss to shove it. He gunned the Mustang’s engine and headed in the direction of town.
Back in the library of the old house, the woman in the portrait left her frame and gently floated to the carpet. “Honestly, Cyrus, did you have to play tricks with the boy? I couldn’t believe it when you knocked the paperweight from the desk. The last thing we want to do is scare him off.”
A shimmering shape materialized into the form of a man seated behind the desk. A look of satisfaction crossed his translucent face as he smiled at his wife. “I’m sorry, my dear. I couldn’t resist planting our first clue.”

About the Author:

Debby Grahl lives on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, with her husband, David, and their cat, Tigger. Besides writing, she enjoys biking, walking on the beach and a glass of wine at sunset. Her favorite places to visit are New Orleans, New York City, Captiva Island in Florida, the Cotswolds of England, and her home state of Michigan. She is a history buff who also enjoys reading murder mysteries, time travel, and, of course, romance. Visually impaired since childhood by Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), she uses screen-reading software to research and write her books.

Her first published romance, The Silver Crescent, was released by The Writer’s Coffee Shop in January. Her next release will be Rue Toulouse, a romance set in New Orleans, due out January, 2015. Debby belongs to RWA, Florida Romance Writers, Hearts Across History, and Lowcountry Romance Writers.

Stay Blitz & Excerpt!

Emily Goodwin
Publication date: May 19th 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense


“I felt like I was walking to the end of a plank precariously hanging over shark-infested water. When I jumped, sharp teeth would rip into me and the cold water would steal my breath away. The monsters would take everything from me, leaving me shivering and naked in the water. The only difference was that tonight I would be pulled from the icy darkness and forced to do it again. There would be no release from death, only pain.”

Home after her first year of college, Adeline Miller is looking forward to a stress free summer filled with reading, working on her blog, and spending time with friends. But all that changes in an instant when she is witness to something terrible, something she wasn’t supposed to see.

Beaten, drugged, kidnapped.

Adeline Miller is ripped from her innocent and carefree life and thrust into darkness, into a world full of pain and horror. As a sex slave, she is forced to do horrible things, and have horrible things done to her. One of her captors has a past as dark as the world she is now living in. Will getting close to him mean freedom? Or will he pull her deeper into the shadows?




Jackson rolled over, pulling me on top of him. He kissed the top of my head and held me against him for a minute before we got dressed. After using the bathroom, I cuddled back into Jackson’s arms.
   “Why did you say ‘one more day?'” I asked, tracing my fingers over the contours of his bare shoulders.
   “I was hoping you’d forget.”
   “Not a chance.”
   Jackson took a breath. “Nate and Zane are gone. This is as good a time as any for you to escape.”
   I pushed myself up so I could look him in the eyes. “And you too, right?”
   Jackson frowned. “I don’t know the codes right now. You’ll have to go through a window.”
   “So?” I asked, feeling panic rising. “You can come with me.” I shook my head. “Windows are quiet anyway. By the time I get out and the alarm goes off, we can be long gone.”
   “As soon as I unlock a window on the first floor, the alarm will go off. The only windows I have access to up here are straight drops. You could fall and hurt yourself, and then you wouldn't be able to run. And you’re forgetting that the ankle bracelet has a GPS tracker. Lou can go after you and find you. I have to distract him.”
   “Jackson, no. Please!” My eyes filled with tears, and my palms began to sweat. I desperately shook my head. “No. I can’t leave you. I won’t leave you.”
“You can send help.”
   “We both know that’s a load of shit,” I said. I blinked back tears. “You’ll be dead by then.”
   “Adeline,” he whispered and reached up to caress my face. “That’s why I brought you up here. I wanted one more time with you. You’ve given me so much, more than I deserve. Now it’s my turn to give you a chance. You can have your life back, start over. You don’t need me.”
“I don’t want to start over without you.” My voice quivered as tears slid down my face. “I need you. I need your arms around me, holding me, keeping me together. I need your lips to press against mine, to hear your heart beating, to feel the heat of your skin. I need you.”
“You’ll find somebody else, someone who can give you a better life than I could.”
“Stop it!” I cried. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you! I love you, Jackson. No one else.”
“And I love you, Adeline. Enough to sacrifice myself for you. Please, Addie. Let me do this for you. Take this chance. My death will set you free.”
   I pushed his hand away. “No. Do not tell me goodbye. It didn’t work last time, and it won’t work now. There has to be another way. There has to be. I won’t let you leave me.”


Emily Goodwin is the author of the award winning Contagium Series published by Permuted Press as well as many independently published novels, including the internationally bestselling novel, STAY. Emily writes in a wide variety of genres, from horror to romance. She holds multiple degrees in psychology and nursing and has worked in mental health and general healthcare. Emily resides in Indiana with her husband, daughter, and German Shepherd named Vader. Along with writing, Emily enjoys riding her horse, designing and making costumes, and Cosplay.

Author links:

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Wounded Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

A Rylee Adamson Novel
Book 8
Shannon Mayer

Publisher: HiJinks Ink Publishing, Ltd.

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Book Description:

"My name is Rylee and I am a Tracker."

When children go missing, and the Humans have no leads, I'm the one they call. I am their last hope in bringing home the lost ones. I salvage what they cannot.

The clock is ticking and I can feel the weight of the final battle with the demon hordes looming over my head. The puzzle pieces are becoming clearer, but the casualty list is growing. And with each name that is added to those we've lost, my confidence cracks a little more.

Yet there is hope.

A child saved.

A life lost.

A prophecy fulfilled.

Available at Amazon   BN   iTunes   Kobo Smashwords

All of the books in The Rylee Adamson Novels series will be on sale from September 9-15th at $0.99 down from $3.99 regular price.

Book Trailer:

Excerpt from Wounded:

“You don’t think that all of the disasters that humanity has faced were all natural, do you? The bubonic plague is a good example. It was blamed on a number of things. Rats, the Jewish people, punishment from God. It all led to a cleansing of anything unusual. Mostly supernaturals, who were trying to blend in, and in that process the humans wiped out many of their best defenders against the demon population, which then went on to spread the plague across the world. But that is just one example.”
“What was the point though, wouldn’t the demons have wanted people to be alive so they could possess them?” Liam asked.
Erik gave a ruthful smile. “Yes and no. The bubonic plague wasn’t so much about killing people off, as it was infecting them. Making them weak and easier to possess. The plague compromised their immune systems, allowing them to be taken over. Especially the young.”
Something about what Erik said sent a twang through my brain. I struggled to put the pieces together that floated just out of reach. Damn it. Liam touched my arm. “What?”
I closed my eyes and pressed my palms into them, blocking out any light. “Just let me think for a minute.”
The feel of the night air and the sound of the fountain filled my ears as I looked at the pieces one by one.
Demons escaped in London who bred fast.
Minor supernaturals were being possessed by lesser demons and evil spirits.
Packs of Orion’s demons were free to cause chaos.
The only thing we were missing was a plague and then Orion would have access to all the young people he wanted. The urge to vomit swelled up through my stomach and burned the back of my throat.
“Children are normally hard to possess, aren’t they?” That was why it had taken a full pentagram when the black coven was trying to have India possessed so many months ago. At least, that was what I understood.
Bert bobbed his head. “Yes, it can be very difficult to possess a child. There is a natural protection over the young when it comes to demons, something the elementals put into play.” He grimaced as he said ‘elemental’ and again I wondered at these particular supernaturals that I’d only just been hearing about. “But when the small humans are ill, that protection goes into keeping them alive, rather than keeping them from being possessed.”
Feeling like a bully, but not really caring, I leaned in to Bert. “How did the bubonic plague really start?”
An interesting thing happened. Bert paled and shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
My eyebrows shot up and I glanced at Erik. “You want to make him talk, or do you want me to make him talk?”
Erik shrugged. “Either way is fine. I haven’t interrogated a demon in years. I’ve missed it.”
Bert paled even more and his lower lip trembled. “I can’t tell you. I can’t. Tracker, Slayer both of you have to trust me. Please.”
“Begging will get you nowhere, little demon.” Erik growled. He had a short, serrated knife in his hand that he’d pulled from somewhere within his robes. It was curved, like a skinning knife, and if it hadn’t been for the rough edges that’s what I would have called it.
“Track demons and evil spirits.” Bert blurted out as he fell to his knees. “Proof I am on your side. Track them; you’ll see it isn’t me fooling you.”
Erik paused and looked over at me. “Up to you. Personally, I’d just as soon dice him up.”
“Fuck, why not, Tracking will take me two seconds.” I grumbled.
I send out a thread to Track demons as a whole, paired with a thread for evil spirits, just to satisfy—
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
I swayed on my feet and went to one knee, the overwhelming wash of pings I got back seriously making me re-think getting out of bed the day before.
We were surrounded by Orion’s minions.
Hundreds of them.


About the Author:

Shannon Mayer lives in the southwestern tip of Canada with her husband, dog, cats, horse, and cows. When not writing she spends her time staring at immense amounts of rain, herding old people (similar to herding cats) and attempting to stay out of trouble. Especially that last is difficult for her.

She is the author of the The Rylee Adamson Novels, The Nevermore Trilogy, A Celtic Legacy series and several contemporary romances. 

Please visit her website at  for more information on her novels.