Wednesday 11 November 2015

✲´*。.❄¨¯`*✲。❄。*。¨¯`*✲ Cover Reveal Blue Dream ✲*`¯¨。*。❄。✲*`¯¨❄.。*´✲ Blue Dream by Xavier Neal @XavierNeal87

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Title: Blue Dream
Author: Xavier Neal
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Model: Ben Amerson Photographer: Shauna Kruse
Kruse Images & Photography: Models & Boudoir
Publisher: Entertwine Publishing
Release Date: Dec. 2, 2015
dividers synopsis blue 1-428x128   First love. Last love. Only love. Well, at least that's how Ryder Collins thinks of the girl he lost because of his addiction ten years ago. While Ryder is battling the demons of his past to save his future, he will start to question the nightmare that has become his reality and the illusive blue dream that he swears started it all.  
  dividers teasers blue 1-428x128 blue dream 1 teaser dividers author bio blue 1-428x128   xavier 3  
Xavier Neal lives in Texas where she spends her time getting lost in writing, reading, or fandoms she recently discovered. Whether she is enjoying books or movies, she continues finding inspiration at every turn to bring more exciting stories to life.
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Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1PrXuwl
Twitter: @XavierNeal87
Goodreads Author Page : http://bit.ly/1NwJYrg
   

Book Blitz for The Lost by Cole McCade. @givemebooksblog @ColeMcCade




Title: The Lost
Series: Crow City #1
Author: Cole McCade
Genre: Erotica
Release Date: August 25, 2015



Blurb

There's something wrong with Leigh.

She's known it her whole life. She knows it every time she spreads her legs. Every time she begs for the pain, the pleasure, the heat of a hard man driving deep inside. She's a slave to her own twisted lusts--and it's eating her alive. She loves it. She craves it. Sex is her drug, and she's always chasing her next fix. But nothing can satisfy her addiction, not even the nameless men she uses and tosses aside. No one's ever given her what she truly needs.

Until Gabriel Hart.

Cold. Controlled. Impenetrable. Ex-Marine Gabriel Hart isn't the kind of man to come running when Leigh crooks her pretty little finger. She loathes him. She hungers for him. He's the only one who understands how broken she is, and just what it takes to satisfy the emptiness inside. But Gabriel won't settle for just one night. He wants to claim her, keep her, make her forever his. Together they are the lost, the ruined, the darkness at the heart of Crow City.

But Leigh has a darkness of her own. A predator stalking through her past--one she'll do anything to escape.

Even if it means running from the one man who could love her...and leaving behind something more precious to her than life itself.

TRIGGER WARNING: 18+
This book contains material that may be triggering or deeply disturbing to some readers, including scenes discussing or detailing rape, physical and emotional abuse, and incest. Please focus on self-care and, if this book is triggering to you, do not be afraid to put it down and walk away, or skip certain chapters. Be good to yourselves. -C








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AMAZON US / UK







Prologue

“STATE YOUR NAME.”

Cold, clipped words, blending into the noise of the police station. Leigh lifted her head from a fixed study of her clenched fingers. Colors whirled around her in a lurid carnival nightmare, too bright, too blurry. On a bench on the far side of the room, a wasted and broken scarecrow woman picked at a scab on her wrist with a certain habitual listlessness, oozing diseased red-brown blood over liver spots. Her tendons were rails under her skin, and the dull gleam of cuffs chained her to the bench. She raised her head and stared at Leigh with yellowed eyes that captured her with a sort of empty, terrifying promise.

Across the desk a policewoman waited, with that compassionate impatience only a half-step from pity and shoulder-to-shoulder with disgust. Her flat blue eyes said she’d been trained to care, but couldn’t be bothered anymore. Leigh swallowed and tugged her hoodie close against the tinny air-conditioned chill. Her mouth had dried to a tacky, sticky mess, gummy pills of lipstick beading on her lips, and her tongue was a bloated and useless organ, this swollen pink thing pushing pointlessly against her teeth.

“Leigh,” she ground out. “Clarissa Leigh…” Her married name scratched sandpaper syllables against her throat. “…van Zandt.”

“And Miss van Zandt, do you know why you’re here?”

She nodded, her neck a creaking wooden puppet-hinge. “I do.”

“Your family’s been worried about you.”

“I know.”

She knew what she should do here. Bow her head in shame and contrition, maybe even sniffle. But she looked for the emotions and they weren’t there; just scraps and tatters, clinging to the empty place where they belonged. She had no feeling left, hollowed out and lost and wondering how she’d ended up here. This didn’t feel real. Instead it was a dream where everyone leered in fisheye close-up, their smiles all teeth and stretched red lips and manic glee. She wanted to run, but somehow she’d gone too numb to do anything but sit here surrounded by the stink of fear-sweat, stale beer, and that particular police-station smell of urine soaked into concrete for decades on end.

“What happened to you?” the officer asked. Leigh didn’t answer, and the officer’s pen tapped against the forms on her desk, rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat, Morse code for I’d rather be anywhere but here with this spoiled little runaway princess. “It’s been four years. You were declared legally dead.”

“That’s all right.” She closed her eyes with a laugh that ripped her guts up into her mouth, and buried her face in her hands. Dead. Dead.

Yeah, that was about right.

“Miss van Zandt?”

Stop calling me that.

“Miss van Zandt. I need you to focus on my voice.”

Stop calling me that!

Leigh took a measured breath and opened her eyes. Her shoulders squared. The bolts on the back of the hard, ass-biting chair dug into her shoulder blades. “I am focused. I can hear you just fine.”

“Eyes are dilated.” The officer—her nametag read Maroni, could there be a more clichéd name for a Crow City cop—leaned across the desk, peering at her face. Then she beckoned to the aide hovering over them like a mannequin. “I’ve seen this too many times. Drugs and prostitution.” She talked about Leigh like she wasn’t even there. “We’ll have to clean her up before her husband gets here.”

“I’m not on drugs. I’ve never been on drugs.”

Maroni’s pen-clicking stopped. Her disbelief was a heavy thing, push-push-pushing until Leigh nearly laughed.

“You’re not on drugs.”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

There it was. The first hint of exasperation. Of frustration, stitched into knitted brows and the purse of lips in just the right shade of I can’t be a woman, I’m a cop mauve. Because like anyone normal, anyone who wasn’t fucking broken to pieces and liked being that way, Maroni needed to make sense of this. Needed to quantify it in a world where the rules worked as normal and everyone wanted to chase that dream of happiness that wasn’t anything but desperation painted over of a frantic tally of things. Things of plastic, things with value created by people whose upper lips curled when they looked down at little girls like Leigh, and demanded she account for herself in sane, rational ways that made proper sense.

Sorry, Officer Maroni.

I’m not the kind of thing that makes much sense.

Maroni pushed a harsh sound through her teeth. “You had a job, a husband, a newborn son. You had a life other people would kill for, and we find you here on the streets. Were you pressured? Kidnapped?”

“No. None of that.” Leigh shook her head.

“You’ll have to explain, then.”

“I left.” She trailed off, lips parted; no words came for long seconds, until she managed, “I…I was afraid.”

“Of what?” Maroni tried to catch her eye, but Leigh looked down at her hands, at her chipped pink fingernails dipped in the sparkles of shooting stars. “Miss van Zandt. If someone was hurting you, you need to tell us now so we can take appropriate steps to protect you.”

“No. No one hurt me. Not like that.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be more clear. What were you afraid of?”

“Of…”

She struggled for an answer. Struggled for something this woman would accept, something that would make her sigh with sympathy and pity and relieved disdain that said there, but for the Grace of God…

But again, she found nothing. Nothing but the truth, and Leigh shrugged as she looked up at the policewoman and wondered if she had daughters who might one day be like Leigh, daughters who would cut stark red lines of fingernails in the walls of flesh that caged her in the shape of pop culture’s perfect woman.

“Of the inevitable monotony of it all,” she said.

And smiled.







Author Bio


COLE MCCADE IS A NEW ORLEANS-BORN SOUTHERN BOY without the Southern accent, currently residing somewhere in the metropolitan wilds of the American Midwest. He spends his days as a suit-and-tie corporate consultant and business writer, and his nights writing romance novels when he’s not being tackled by two hyperactive cats. And while he spends more time than is healthy hiding in his writing cave instead of hanging around social media, you can generally find him in these usual haunts:

• Email: cole@colemccade.com

• Twitter: @ColeMcCade

• Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/cole.mccade

• Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/ColeMcCadeBooks

• Website & Blog: http://www.colemccade.com

• Tumblr: http://colemccade.tumblr.com/

He also runs an advice column called Dammit, Cole, where he occasionally answers questions about everything from romance and dating to the culture of hypermasculinity, from the perspective of a male romance author:

• http://www.colemccade.com/category/dammit-cole/

Looking for more? You can get early access to cover reveals, blurbs, contests, and other exclusives by joining the McCade’s Marauders street team at:


http://www.facebook.com/groups/mccadesmarauders/




Giveaway

Release Blitz of Her Web Master by Normandie Alleman @NormandieA

HerWebMasterRBBanner HerWebMASTER900 button synopsis
Genre: Erotic Romance/BDSM
An online connection. Masked by anonymity. No cameras. No pictures. Curiosity ignited to intrigue. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but had no idea how far we would go... My intention was to test the waters, dip my toe in the wading pool. Instead I surrendered to the world of seduction and submission as he submerged me--body, mind, and soul--into an ocean of eroticism. Emails, texts, and hidden identities, were one thing. But now, coming face-to-face with the mystery man, the star of my fantasies, both terrifies and completely thrills me. If all goes according to plan, he will intensify the exquisite bond we share by transporting me to that glorious intersection between agony and ecstasy. If not, everything we've built will come crashing down around us, destroying my dreams in the process. Either way, there is no going back. Because I want more. Much more. He always says, "For every ounce of pleasure, a price must be paid." And I am going to pay... Warning: If you’re not a fan of dirty talk or dominant alpha males, “Her Web Master” may not be for you, but if you're looking for a filthy online boyfriend who will make your toes curl, meet Sophie’s mysterious Dom. buy links
**AVAILABLE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED**
Introductory price of .99 cents for a very limited time!
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I stared at the ice cubes in my glass, all that was left of my first drink. I was only allowed two, so I relished the sensation as bourbon sank deliciously into my bloodstream, numbing me ever so slightly. I tried to wait patiently for the next cocktail to arrive, but patience had never been my strong suit. An only child, spoiled rotten by my parents who’d all but given up on having children when I came along, I wasn’t accustomed to waiting. But today of all days, I needed that next drink to calm my frayed nerves. The restaurant at the Omni Hotel wasn’t crowded, about what one expected on a Thursday late afternoon. The elegant décor looked to be the result of a recent remodel, and I wondered who had done it. My mother would want to know the name of the designer. She served as the director of Fort Worth’s Junior Cotillion, as well as on a number of museum boards, and she’d taught me to stay abreast of all things related to the arts, but right now considering the hotel’s new look only helped distract me from an imminent meeting with the most important man in my life. I was excited yet anxious because this would be my first meeting with my lover. Our first meeting face-to-face. He’d left strict instructions for me to sit at the table he reserved for us. He requested I sit with my back to the entrance. This tricky move on his part allowed no way for me to see him as he entered. If his intention was to control and torture me, it was working. A loose strand of hair tickled my cheek, so I tucked it behind my ear. My hair wasn’t choosing this inopportune moment to misbehave. It always misbehaved. I watched for the waiter, again wanting that drink, but as much as I hated being outside my comfort zone, I loved the naughty, decadent feeling I got from doing something simply because my Master told me to. When I submitted to his demands, I stepped outside my safe little world, the one where my ex-husband ignored me for years, where all my friends had children, where I felt inconsequential. With him I wasn’t invisible. He relied on me. Sure it was for things of a sexual nature, but to me, that was something, and I felt fulfilled for the first time in ages. A few months ago, when I’d been supremely pissed at my cheating husband, I went online. I admit it, I’d been looking for trouble, which was mind-numbingly easy to find. I hadn’t intended to find a darker side of myself with needs that could never have been met by my philandering husband. I’d never meant to find someone. I’d merely been looking, searching—for what, I wasn’t sure. What I did find was a whole new world of dominance and submission, self-inflicted pain as well as pleasure, and sexual satisfaction with a stranger. A man who reached out and touched me in corners of my soul I hadn’t known existed. We spoke every day, I performed sex acts upon myself at his command, and sent him reports on the intimate and sometimes humiliating tasks he gave me. I was his submissive, and he was my Master, and every aspect of our relationship took place over the internet. I addressed him as “Sir”, but in our chats he went by the moniker, “MC.” We communicated only via Skype, email, chats and the occasional phone call. That is, until today. I always insisted we not use a webcam, even though he implored me to do webcam “sessions.” My privacy was of the utmost importance to me, so I always refused. I’m a kindergarten teacher at one of Fort Worth’s finest preparatory schools! I couldn’t take the risk of being videotaped during our play sessions. So the only notion I have of what my Master looks like is a product of my imagination. But today he flew to Houston to meet me in person. To have a real “play date.” In the flesh. A chill ran across my flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The waiter set my second bourbon in front of me. Always cognizant of my manners, I thanked him with a smile. I had been born into one of the wealthiest families in Texas and I’ve been given every advantage. I attended the right boarding schools, wore the right clothes, and behaved as any proper debutante should. And what had that gotten me? An unfulfilling marriage to an unfaithful jackass and a lifetime of trying to meet other people’s expectations rather than my own. I sipped my drink then smiled. But not today. Today I was doing what I wanted for a change. I would finally meet the man who dominated me for the past four months. My stomach roiled with anticipation. What would he look like? Would it matter? Of course whatever he looked like, he wouldn’t be the “Master” I’d daydreamed about. Things never worked that way. It would be like conjuring an image for the hero in a book, and when a movie is made, the actor never matches the character in your head. Always a disappointment. I’d tried to prepare myself for that from the beginning. I never pictured MC to be a handsome movie star. Instead, I envisioned him as rather average, with salt-and-pepper hair and kind features. For some reason I pictured him wearing glasses, possibly he had a beard. In any case, it wasn’t his physical appearance that was captivating. MC awakened a primal response in me. He exposed my mind to a world in which I could be open about my sexual desires. A world where the wanton girl inside me was encouraged to come out and play, rather than squelched and pushed into a back closet where she had always lived. He controlled my sexuality, sensing my deepest, darkest needs. And it didn’t hurt that he made me feel cared for and cherished at a time when I desperately needed that. I wanted to please him. Draining my second drink, I considered a third. I sighed deeply at the thought of the swats that MC would rain down on me for breaking his two-drink maximum. It made me wriggle in my chair, and the excitement between my legs spread down into my toes. My phone showed it was 5:12, and my tummy tightened. Any minute now… He told me he would be here at 5:15. The wait had been both excruciating and delicious at the same time—a perfect reflection of our relationship, a testimony to both pain and pleasure. “Close your eyes, my pet.” The familiar voice came from behind my chair. It was a sound I’d come to crave and hearing it sent shivers of anticipation dancing down my spine. Suddenly, I wanted to freeze that moment in time, to stop things while things were still beautiful between us, before reality could mar the fantasy. A hand circled my nape. His touch was like an electric current, setting my skin aflame. I leaned back against his fingers, shamelessly aching for more, though I knew I should maintain my composure because we were in a public place. But it was all I could do not to moan out loud. He wrapped my long hair over his wrist and gripped it firmly. “I see you were looking at your phone. Did you think I’d be late?” “N-n-n-no.” “Good. I’m going to sit beside you, to your left, but you will keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. Do you understand me?” “Yes.” “What did you say?” He pulled my hair tight, and I immediately wondered if anyone in the restaurant noticed. “Yes, Sir.” My heart thumped hard in my chest. “That’s better.” He let go of my hair, and I yearned for him to touch me again. I kept my eyes closed, though I knew I must look an odd spectacle. “Was that your second drink?” I nodded. “I expect you to answer me properly.” I squirmed in my seat. “Yes, Sir.” “Would you like another one?” “Yes, but you said I could only have two.” “Do you plan to be a good girl today?” “Yes, Sir.” “Since you followed my directions so well and this is something of a special occasion, you may have another one. What would you like?” “I’ll have a bourbon and water, please, Sir.” “That’s a mighty strong drink for a young lady.” I wasn’t that young, but I appreciated the chivalrous thought. “My grandmother taught me that if you drink bourbon and water it won’t sneak up on you the way sweeter drinks will. That way a lady can always take care of herself.” “Smart woman, your grandmother.” I listened as he ordered more drinks, my eyes closed the whole time, feeling ridiculous. Then I gave up and lowered my head, pretending to look at the ground. I’d spent my entire life being worried about what people thought of me. It was exhausting, trying to be perfect all the time. Part of me was dying to cheat, to open my eyes to see what this dynamic man actually looked like, while the other part was enjoying the game and wished it could go on forever. Because once I saw his face, nothing between us would ever be the same. The fantasy would disappear, replaced by a yet-to-be-known reality, with only a few of the fragments of our mutual projection remaining.
HerWebMaster-PRINTsmaller button About the author
A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of children, hunky husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull. If you’d like up to the minute new release info on Normandie’s books text RACYREADS to 24587. 
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Release Blitz of Whatever He Likes by Alexa Davis

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Whatever He 6
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Introducing Whatever He Likes, book six of the sexy new series Whatever He from Alexa Davis that will test your boundaries...

Olivia isn't making it in Hollywood like she thought she would. She would go back home if she knew her father wouldn't say, "I told you so." Her two roommates are doing fine with their acting careers and they expect her to pay her share of the rents. So after she can't find a job she gets hired at a place that she would never admit to anyone.

Billionaire Tristan Davis just got a divorce so how does he deal with it? His favorite underground club where pleasures could be paid for. That's where he meets Olivia. She's gorgeous and he can control her however he likes. But when his secrets are revealed will she not want to be around him like everyone else in his life?

*This sexy alpha billionaire romance is perfect for fans of Cassie Cross, M.S.Parker, Ellie Danes, Hannah Ford, Deborah Bladon and J.S. Scott*
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Whatever He Desires
Whatever He Wants
Whatever He Needs
Whatever He 4
Whatever He 5
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