Release Day Blitz: On The Plus Size by Alison Bliss

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ON THE PLUS SIDE by Alison Bliss

Series: A Perfect Fit, #2

On Sale: June 27, 2017

Mass Market: $7.99 USD

eBook: $5.99 USD

Audio: $22.98

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A Perfect Fit (1)

SIZE MATTERS, #1

ON THE PLUS SIDE, #2

MORE TO LOVE, #3

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SYNOPSIS

Big girls don’t cry. They go after what they want.

Thanks to her bangin’ curves, Valerie Carmichael has always turned heads-with the exception of seriously sexy Logan Mathis. Just Valerie’s luck that the object of her lust-filled affection is also best friends with her overprotective brother. But Valerie’s determined to get Logan’s attention…even if it means telling a teeny little lie to get a job at his new bar.

Logan can’t remember a time when Valerie didn’t secretly fuel all his hottest fantasies. Now the curvaceous she-devil is working behind his bar, tempting him every damn night. It’s only when he finds Valerie’s naughty things-to-do list that Logan decides to break every rule in the book-by making each red-hot deed a reality.

No one warned them that they were going to fall this hard. And no one warned them that sometimes the smallest secrets can have the biggest consequences.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alison Bliss CREDIT Julie Abston Photography

Alison Bliss grew up in Small Town, Texas, but currently resides in the Midwest with her husband and two sons. With so much testosterone in her home, it’s no wonder she writes “girl books.” She believes the best way to know if someone is your soul mate is by canoeing with them because if you both make it back alive, it’s obviously meant to be. Alison pens the type of books she loves to read most: fun, steamy love stories with heart, heat, laughter, and usually a cowboy or two. As she calls it, “Romance…with a sense of humor.”

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EXCERPT

Valerie Carmichael needed a drink. A strong one. Because it was the only way she envisioned herself getting through the night.

An elbow nudged into her side, bringing her thoughts back to the crowded bar. “I can’t see anything through all of these people,” Brett said, scanning the room with his eyes. “Come on, let’s go to the other side so I can get a better view.”

Sighing, Valerie trudged behind him without a word.

When Brett had asked her to attend the grand opening of Bottoms Up, a new bar in their hometown of Granite, Texas, she’d hesitated to say yes. Sure, she was curious what the inside of the recently remodeled bar looked like and had no doubt the place would be jam-packed with handsome, available men. But it was still the last place on earth she wanted to be.

She knew better than to hang out in bars with her older and only—thank God—brother. Every time she’d done so in the past, the nights had always ended the same way. Brett would spend the entire evening hovering over her like a rabid pit bull, daring any single guy with a glint in his eye to look her way. Because Valerie turned heads. She always had.

Oh, she wasn’t silly enough to believe she looked like some gorgeous supermodel with a lean, trim figure or anything. She definitely didn’t. But she had a pretty face, banging plus-size curves, and a lively personality. And that was good enough for her. Valerie was just…Valerie. And damn proud of it.

Across the room, Sam and Leah emerged from the dense crowd, with a beer bottle for him and a glass of water for her. Apparently, Leah was still on that damn diet and counting calories so she would fit into her wedding dress. Though why she didn’t just buy the dress in a larger size was beyond Valerie.

Leah blinked at the sight of her. “Val? What are you doing here? You said you weren’t coming.”

Valerie shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“When you said you didn’t want to go out, I assumed you were sick. You never turn down a night out.” Leah placed her palm lightly against Valerie’s forehead. “You sure you don’t have the flu or something?”

Valerie laughed and pushed her friend’s hand away. “Oh, stop it. I just didn’t feel like getting dressed up. I’m getting tired of the whole bar scene.”

Then Valerie’s heart stopped, along with her lips. Oh God.

Brett stood there talking to a tall, dark-haired man who had one thumb hooked in the front pocket of his jeans while he leaned comfortably against the wall with his right shoulder. She couldn’t see the other guy’s face, but she didn’t need to. Valerie recognized all six feet, two inches of him. Logan Mathis.

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Release Day Blitz: Almost A Bride by Jo Watson

ALMOST A BRIDE by Jo Watson

Series: Destination Love, #2

On Sale: January 31, 2017

Trade Paperback: $14.99 USD

eBook: $4.99 USD

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BURNING MOON, #1

ALMOST A BRIDE, #2

FINDING YOU, #3

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SYNOPSIS

**Newly revised and expanded, Wattpad sensation Jo Watson’s ALMOST A BRIDE is now available in print for the first time!**

That awkward moment you catch your boyfriend in bed with another woman and then mistakenly get arrested #chargesdropped

Annie knows life isn’t always fair. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you get mistaken for a crazed intruder when you come home early and find your boyfriend wearing nipple clamps with a coworker on the night you thought he was going to propose to you.

The important thing is to move on, and for Annie that means treating herself to a tropical vacation. But when she runs into her ex and his new woman staying at the same resort, reason is washed out to sea. Caught off guard, Annie pretends she’s with Chris, a cute screenwriter she meets on the beach. With his own writing blocked, Chris is happy to help Annie craft a story to save face. Soon Annie isn’t just getting over her ex, she’s getting under Chris. As her fictional feelings grow increasingly real, Annie has to decide if she’s ready to risk her heart on a new relationship.

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Jo Watson is an award-winning writer of romantic comedies. Burning Moon won a Watty Award in 2014. Jo is an Adidas addict and a Depeche Mode devotee.

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EXCERPT

I knew something was wrong the second I walked up to my front door.

Call it intuition. Call it a sixth sense. But I just knew.

I blame the shoes. The shoes were undoubtedly the cause of all the

problems that day. It was the shoes’ fault that I came home early, and

the shoes’ fault I was fired.

I suppose I can’t blame the shoes for making me late, though—

that was the alarm clock’s fault for rudely deciding not to do its job.

And when I finally realized, through the thick haze of sleepiness,

that it hadn’t gone off, it was too late. I was already late for work.

And when I say work, I mean my brand-new job—job of my

dreams—as a fashion assistant at Glamorous Girl mag.

I’d just made a total career change, leaving behind a successful job

as a stylist in advertising to pursue a job in the magazine industry. It

was early days, so I was still desperately trying to impress by being

perfect, polite, and oh so obliging. Whether it was the request for

the latte to be served at 97.7 degrees with no sugar, soy milk froth,

and a sprinkling of organic cocoa powder flown in directly from

the foothills of the Andes. Or whether it was for the jasmine-and-lavender-

scented candles to be burned in the office for exactly ten

minutes before my boss arrived—that was me.

Little Miss Annie Obliging.

Because let’s face it, the word assistant is just a glammed-up euphemism

for slave. But I was ambitious and determined, so when I

realized I wouldn’t be able to attend to the scented candles, or fetch

the latte, I panicked. So much so, that I left the house without the

said troublemaking, life-ruining, world-annihilating shoes.

Let’s take a moment to talk about the shoes. They weren’t

ordinary shoes, oh no, they were none other than the just-off-the-

Paris-catwalk-and-not-for-sale-to-mere-mortals-yet Christian Louboutins.

They also happened to be the centerpieces for that day’s

shoot.

The same rushed panic that had caused me to forget the shoes in

the first place had also left me with barely enough time to scrape my

hair back into a casual bun and slip on a creased T-shirt and pair of

jeans from my floor.

The latter is a bigger sin than you think. Because where I

work, wearing anything other than the most fashionable apparel

is sacrilege. People practically throw holy water at you and start

wailing in Latin for fear that you’ve been possessed by the demon

of bad fashion. In fact, a real demon possession, complete with a

backward-rolling head and the ability to speak in tongues, would

be preferable to the demon of last season’s handbag and Crocs

sandals.

So when I finally got to work, underdressed, out of breath, without

the shoes, and over an hour late, I was in serious trouble.

My boss was throwing a hissy fit, due to lack of flowery scents in

her office, and her personal assistant Cedric was in the throes of an

overly dramatic caffeine withdrawal, due to lack of latte.

And it kept getting worse.

Two hours later the panicky fashion director summoned the

Louboutins. Those shoes had been troublemakers from the start. It

had been an absolute trauma getting them in the first place. They’d

been flown into South Africa late the previous night, and I’d been

tasked with collecting them. Everyone was holding their collective

breath for the grand arrival. So when I was forced to confess to their

absence…well, you can only imagine.

When lunch finally arrived, I jumped into my car and sped home.

I had exactly one hour to get in and out before the photo shoot, more

than enough time.

I pulled into my driveway at breakneck speed, ran for the front

door, slipped my house keys into the lock, and turned—

But…

Something made me stop.

Something told me not to go inside.

Something was very wrong.

I looked around nervously. Everything seemed normal. Peter

across the road was blasting his TV as usual, the ratbag Chihuahua

from number 45 was running up and down the garden perimeter

yapping at an unseen force, and Mildred, my neighbor, was outside

watering her hydrangeas.

So why was I hesitating?

I took a deep breath and inched the door open.

Nothing looked out of place.

Everything was exactly the way I’d left it.

Yet everything felt wrong.

I slunk down the hallway toward the kitchen, where I knew I’d

find the shoes perched next to the coffeepot. But once inside, I was

hit by a terribly eerie sensation…someone was in the house. A shiver

licked the length of my spine when my suspicions were confirmed.

Creeeeaaakkk…A noise was coming from my bedroom directly

above me.

Shit, shit, shit, there was an intruder in the house!

I launched myself at the cutlery drawer, grabbing the largest knife

I could find while simultaneously dialing the police and still managing

to hold on to the shoes for dear life.

“Police! Help, there’s an intruder in my house. Forty-Seven Mendelssohn

Road, Oaklands. Quick.”

Now what? I’d never been in a situation like this before. What

was the correct protocol? Should I hide, evacuate the house, attack

the intruder, scream loudly? Or perhaps a combination of the above?

I thought for a second before deciding to get the fuck out of there!

But just as I had one foot safely installed outside the front door, I

heard another noise. This time it was different. It was…

It sounded like…

My blood ran cold.

But it couldn’t be. Trevv was at work. Trevv had a very important

day in court, he told me. His client’s final hearing was today. Right

now, in fact. I’d called him from my office about an hour ago and

he’d told me he was in court.

He was in court, dammit!

I started climbing the stairs.

More noises.

Two voices?

But that was impossible…wasn’t it?

The noises grew louder and louder the farther up the stairs I

went. I’m not really sure at what point I knew what the noises were

or knew what I was going to see when I opened the door. But I just

knew.

It’s one thing walking in on your boyfriend having sex with another

woman, but it’s another thing entirely walking in on him the

second the other woman is coming. She was facing the door but was

bouncing up and down so vigorously that her face was a blur. And

then suddenly her body stiffened, she threw her head back, opened

her mouth, and let out a high-pitched wail. As if that wasn’t self explanatory

enough, she decided to toss in a few words for good

measure.

“Yes, Trevvy, yes. Oh my God, oh my God, oh Trevvy. Harder!

Ah, ah, ah.” *Pant, pant, pant* “I’m coming!” *Long high-pitched

scream*

Now…there were several things wrong with this picture, aside

from the obvious. Firstly, who the hell screams like that in bed? No

one does! Sex is not so good that you have to break the sound barrier

with your squealing dolphin sounds. Secondly, what the hell was

she wearing? She was clad in some kind of leathery studded number

that looked like it had been worn by one of the Village People. And

to make matters worse, Trevv was blindfolded with the tie that I had

bought him two Christmases ago and…OH MY GOD…were those,

were those…nipple clamps?

I felt sick to my stomach.

And thirdly, who was this mystery woman without an ounce of cellulite,

without the slightest smidge of fat, and with boobs that seemed

to defy all known natural laws of gravity and motion? Which

woman can be that damn perfect…

…and then her features came into focus and the answer dawned

on me.

Tess.

Tess Blackman.

My boyfriend’s “coworker.” The woman I’d invited into

my home on several occasions for dinner. The woman that I always

phoned when I couldn’t get hold of Trevv, because I knew they

were probably together working on a case, tired and exhausted and

burning the midnight oil when they’d rather be at home with their

significant others. She had a fiancé after all.

Poor overworked Trevv and Tess.

God, I was naive.

But the show didn’t end there. Tess’s eyes were still closed when

Trevv started making some delightful grunting-moaning-squeaking

sounds. He’d never made sounds like that with me before. His sweaty

hands reached up and grabbed at her hungrily.

Faster.

Harder.

Loud, long moan.

I was frozen. It’s hard to know what to do when you watch your

partner of two years with his penis somewhere you wouldn’t even

like to imagine, let alone witness in full blinding daylight.

Once all their postcoital panting had tapered off, Tess opened her

eyes and saw me standing in the doorway. The look on her face was

indescribable. Shock and horror and fear all at the same time. And

then she opened her mouth and screamed.

Trevv then turned his head toward the door and whipped off his

blindfold. Our eyes locked and then he did something truly bizarre.

Unexpected. He grabbed Tess by the hand and dragged her to the

other side of the bed.

“Anne, please…you don’t want to do this.” Trevv threw his hands

in the air defensively. He looked terrified. She was bleating hysterically

by this stage.

What was going on? Wasn’t I the jilted one? Wasn’t I the one

that was supposed to be upset? I started walking toward them, which

seemed to only make matters worse.

“Anne, please. Please.” He seemed to be begging now. “Think

about what you’re doing. I know this is bad, but this isn’t the way to

handle it. Please don’t do this.”

Things happened pretty quickly after that. Suddenly, the room

was filled with armed police officers. I was about to tell them they

could all go home, when Trevv cut me off.

“She has a knife. She’s going to kill us!” he shouted, pointing at me.

What knife? I glanced at my hands, and that’s when I realized I

was still holding the large knife, and it was pointed in their direction.

I quickly turned to explain. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Ma’am…” One of the police officers cut me off and started creeping

toward me as if I was a feral pit bull that hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Put down your weapon.”

“I swear, this isn’t what you think, I was just trying to—”

BAM! Face on floor, handcuffs around wrists.

Three really painful things happened at that point: One, the knife

slipped and cut the entire length of my palm. Two, some of my

newly acquired, gorgeous nails snapped off. And three, the crystal-encrusted,

six-inch heel of the priceless Louboutin snapped off,

rolled across the floor lifelessly, and disappeared under the bed.

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Release Day Blitz: Commander In Chief by Katy Evans

 

Commander in Chief by Katy Evans
Series: White House #2
On Sale: January 5th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis

The sizzling second installment of the White House series, by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katy Evans.

We fell in love during the campaign.

The stakes were high.

Reputations could have been ruined.

Scandal hovered over us like a cloud.

Now the man I love is the President of the United States of America.

And its not my vote he is after.

He wants it all.

My heart. My body. My soul.

He wants me by his side.

In the White House.

Normalcy will be gone from my life, privacy forgotten.

I am only twenty three. I just wanted to play a part in history. But it seems like history wasn’t done with me. The part where I lost my heart to Matthew Hamilton? It was only the beginning…

 

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Mr. President, Book 1

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About The Author

Katy Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.

Stay Connected With Katy:

Email: katyevansauthor@gmail.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorKatyEvans

Twitter @authorkatyevans

 

Excerpt

He looks devilishly handsome.

His hair is combed back and oh, how I love every chiseled inch of his face. He’s the first to move, prying his hands from his pockets, eyes flaring, inhaling visibly—his inhale stretching the fabric of that black tux.

Disbelief and a punch of longing to have all of this man, his love and his name and his babies, hits me as he approaches. I’m gazing at him walk to me down the hall of the White House residence, both of us ready to attend a social dinner. My first public event with him.

I need a moment, or a thousand moments, to adjust to this new role.

Matt continues advancing—with every step his eyes drinking me in, his lips curling in a seductive, appreciative smile.

“You ready?” He stretches out his hand.

I nod and look at that hand—the hand I’ve held so many times, and that held me. I slide my fingers down the length of his, and he grips them and leads me down the staircase with him.

 

Release Day Blitz: Nacho Figueras Presents: Wild One by Jessica Whitman

The seconds book in the Polo Season series, Wild One, is out in bookstores today. To celebrate I am participating in the Release Day Blitz. At the bottom of the post is a giveaway, hosted by Forever Romance, so be sure to enter.

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Nacho Figueras Presents: Wild One by Jessica Whitman

Series: Polo Season, #2

On Sale: June 28, 2016

Formats: Trade Paperback, Mass Market, eBook

Price: $13.99 (TP), $6.99 (MM), $6.99 (eBook)

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Polo Season Series

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Nacho Figueras Presents: High Season, #1

Nacho Figueras Presents: Wild One, #2

Nacho Figueras Presents: Ride Free, #3

Series Page on Goodreads

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SYNOPSIS

Kat Parker thought she’d finally escaped being known as the housekeeper’s daughter in the class-obsessed polo town of Wellington, FL. With her first blockbuster screenplay, she’d become the Hollywood It girl-until with one flop suddenly she wasn’t. Heading home is her only option.

Kat knows she can write another hit…if only she can find the right story. What she finds instead is the drop-dead gorgeous celebrity athlete Sebastian Del Campo, who’s just as well known for his tabloid exploits as he is for his prowess on the polo field.

For Sebastian, everything in life has always come easily-wealth, sports, women. But the perennial party life is starting to feel a bit stale. Especially after meeting Kat. Her easy laughter and candid attitude make him aspire to something more meaningful for the first time in his life.

As Sebastian tells Kat stories of his grandmother Victoria, a woman who could be dripping in diamonds one moment and tearing up the polo field the next, Kat’s inspiration fires and soon the pair are back in Hollywood, working on a film together that could make or break both of their careers. And though the chemistry between the two is building, the film’s irresistible star has other ideas…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Argentine polo player Ignacio “Nacho” Figueras has become one of the most recognizable and talented polo players in the world. He is currently the captain and co-owner of the Black Watch polo team. In addition to playing polo, Nacho has been featured as a face of Ralph Lauren and its Black Watch clothing and watch collection since 2000. In June 2009, he was voted the second most handsome man in the world by the readers of Vanity Fair and has appeared on numerous television shows, such as Oprah and Chelsea Handler. Nacho currently splits his time between Miami and Argentina with his wife, Delfina and their four children, Hilario, Aurora, Artemio, and Alba.

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EXCERPT

Kat and Sebastian took off their shoes and walked along the edge of the sea. The sand was wet and warm, and the water hissed in and out over their bare feet as the tide came in.  The beach was empty, and the moon was bright, and when she looked at him, her gray eyes gleamed silver in the pale light.

She was, thought Sebastian, even more than he had imagined she would be. She was beautiful, of course, but in an effortless way. The beauty mark above her lip, the 2-inch scar on the inside of her elbow that gleamed silvery-white against her smooth, tan skin (a childhood accident, she told him, trailing her finger over it self-consciously), the way that her glossy black curls sprang out around her head like an unruly corona in the Florida humidity, the faint laugh lines that appeared around her pretty eyes every time she smiled…

And she was smart, and funny, and she told him scandalous, gossipy, hilarious stories about Hollywood and made him laugh so hard his belly ached. And when he flattered or flirted, her cheeks would flush pink and her eyes sparkled, but at the same time, if he went over-the-top, he knew that she did not buy his bullshit.  Not even one little bit.  Because nothing got past this woman. Nada.

And now she walked alongside him, laughing and chattering about this and that in her husky, honey-sweet voice. Her legs were long enough that he barely had to adjust his stride, and her swinging hand kept grazing his arm and sending little shocks of pleasure through his body.

He caught her hand and pulled her toward him. “Besame,” he said softly.

She blinked. “Forgive my rusty Spanish, but doesn’t that mean-”

He cut her off by gently placing his mouth upon hers.

Her lips were soft and warm, and he searched them slowly, first with his own lips, and then with his tongue, just barely touching the outline of her mouth until she exhaled and stepped closer to him.

He loved kissing a woman this tall. He didn’t have to bend to her mouth at all, and it was so easy to pull her even closer and go deep. She tasted amazing, like sweet lime and champagne and a trace of salt, and she smelled of that same intriguing bittersweet caramel fragrance he had noticed the first day they met.  He went deeper still, and she pushed up against him and made a soft, warm sound in the back of her throat, and suddenly he was flooded with an electric hunger so sharp that he felt that he might lose control.

And so he did what he had been fantasizing about doing all night. He led her away from the water and laid her down upon the warm sand and covered her body with his own.

She broke off kissing him. “Do you think,” she said hoarsely, “that we should find someplace more private?”

He pushed himself up and looked around.  The beach was deserted. The only light from the restaurant was far behind. “I think we’re alone.” he said.

He gently kissed her face, and thought to himself that she felt so good, so right, and that he never wanted to be anywhere else. That he would stay here forever if she let him…

And then he laughed softly, because he really had never felt these things before.  And honestly?

It kind of scared the living hell out of him.

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