Click to set custom HTML Release Day Blitz For the‘Champagne?’ Logan breathed into my
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Book Blitz: Thin Skin Soul Pinned by Mila A. Ballentine Jan 16th - Jan 26th Marie Tousant was an adventurous child, living a happy life until she had an untimely encounter with an entity in her back yard. From then on, she was no longer the same child, but even so, her parents were determined to maintain some sense of normalcy in her life. Although, they soon realized that, that notion did not apply. Years later, hunting season begins, but Marie is the prey, pursued by practitioners of the dark arts, and they do not intend to let her slip away this time. However, a conflicting power emerges and shares secrets that may save Marie from the grasp of evil. Regardless of the dangers they face, Marieâs allies are willing to protect her; it becomes clear that Marie is in for the fight of her life, and there is no telling if she will come out of this ordeal alive. Get a copy for 99 cents; $3 reg. Price valid from Jan. 16 - Jan. 26 UK US CA AUS âIf nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies.â - Author Unknown Marie Tousant sat at the edge of the bayou, gazing intently at the surface, red tresses flowing just above the river. Her likeness, mingling with natureâs replication of the sombre stance of weeping willows, Cypress trees, and Swamp Oak draped in moss around the waterâs edge. Like most children of her age, she pondered, if another world lied beneath her reflection. Straightening her back, she looked out at the other side choked with foliage, picked up a pebble, and tossed it into the liquid, forming concentric ripples that cascaded to the edge of the banks. She put her hand behind her ear, extending it outward. Her mother has once said, âif you listen close enough, youâll hear the bayou call your name,â but even when she actively listened, all that she heard was insects and birdcalls. Sheâd often daydream about sailing the bayou, exploring the waterways like a carefree pirate sailing the open seas. The allure of marshlands wouldnât appeal to most, and could only be appreciated or understood by those who truly depended on the otherwise drab outlets for sustenance. Undoubtedly, the closest sheâd come to exploring, arguably the next best thingâwas going fishing. On his days off, her father took her out on his boat, sunlight bathing his tapered, black hair, heâd talk about anything that came to mind and she listened intently, adding an obligatory, âUh huh,â to fill the occasional void. A fish tugged on the line, silencing him. He reeled it in, and as it made its debut above water, she clapped fanatically as the fish danced on the hook. A long stretch passed before the next one bit. By then, they broiled with excitement as he reeled in the line. Like most anglers, he lost a few, but it was during those opportune moments he shared a life lesson ⦠âIn life, we are all fishes on a hook, some survive, and some thrive, but most of us are destined to be meat.â âUh huh,â she replied without giving it much thought. Five minutes after heâd lost a big one, he reeled another in to more applause, and by then, they had more than they needed. After a few goes paddling, he let the boat laze, coasting toward the banks and moored it. They ambled home with their catch in hand. Dan gave them to Angelique as she sat in a chair out on the back lawn, and she went to work, hands moving swiftly as she vigorously scaled the fish in a large aluminium basin. Like clockwork, once she observed the beginnings of her motherâs fish cleaning ritual, she jogged off to the other end of the yard, and looked on from afar; eyes filled with woe as scales flew, clinging to her motherâs hair and clothing. In a shorter time than it took them to catch their haul, Angelique stood and flexed her back, sending her long, wavy brown hair into a short-lived sway. She walked away from the bloody basin with a bowl of prepped fish in hand, trudged up the broad back steps leading up to the porch, and entered the back door. In a relatively short space of time, the fish were bubbling in hot oil, ejecting droplets from the frying pan, wafting an aroma outside, which is where her father relaxed in a wicker chair, waiting for his share of the spoils. X The outside wall shadowed her face as she lay on the reclined patio chair. Her earthy, hazel eyes glancing up at the clouds congregating below cruising altitude and soon, her lashes lowered, meeting as they closed, bringing her one step closer to sleep. Near her, Marie sat on the railing, looking over and down at the elongated neck of Louisiana Irisâs red petals drooping, near vascular ferns, and the white gardenias lining the edge below the raised patio. From there, a stretch of manicured lawn flowed down to the bayouâs edge, where wild shrubs took over and large trees plumed, shadowing the river. Marie looked over her shoulder at her mother, fast asleep in the chair. She eased down from the railing, tiptoed off the porch, and hurried down to the bayou. She unlatched the rope tying the rowboat to a wooden post, climbed in, and gently pushed the boat away from the shore with the oar, finally embarking on the journey sheâd long envisioned. Her bluish-green eyes took in the scenery until one of the oars slipped from her hand. She desperately reached for it, but her efforts were in vain as it drifted further and further away with each attempt. In a split second, her daring adventure turned into a stony cacophony of writhing fear. Her shouts escalated into retched cries, echoing throughout the backyard. Angelique sprung up, âMarie?â Hearing nothing but cries, she stood up, looked around the back yard, and walked, half-heartedly, down to the bayou. Eyes widening as she saw her daughter drifting boat in their boat to the other side. âMarie!â She yelled, gasping as if she were borrowing breaths. In the meantime, another unnerving request came from offshore. âMommy, help!â An hour hadn't passed, but Marie felt as though she had been out there forever. Her heartâdo-si-do-ed as she set eyes on Marie drifting in the bayou. She peeled off her shoes and dove straight into the murky waterMila A. Ballentine is a mystery writer who doesn't shy away from writing about the things that grasp the core of her imagination. Her writing is an extension of her mindâs eye and there is always elements of truth in each of her books. When, she's not writing, she enjoys traveling or doing anything that allows her to put her creative energy to use. Social Links: Hosted by Obsessive Pimpettes Promotions Title: Ella's Love Author: Jasmine Lee Genre: Contemporary Release Date: February 4, 2015 Cover Design: Sheri McGathy Models: TJ (Front) & Donna Jo Petty-Kitchens (Back) Photographers: Amber & Tabitha Patterson Synopsis: A chance meeting years ago. Another chance meeting one night followed by a passionate kiss. A final chance meeting in an ER. Followed by the most horrible first date ever. That might just be the best first date ever. Newly divorced Marcus, Lead singer of a Heavy Metal band. Never dreamed heâd find love ever again. Single mom Ella, knows she may never have her own HEA. Not when she has more than the normal baggage. What follows, neither expected. How much is Marcus willing to sacrifice to be with Ella? Can Ella open her heart, knowing she may never truly find her happy ending? Excerpt: Prologue I could tell you everyone gets their own form of happily ever after in the end, but letâs face it, thatâs a HUGE lie. Not everyone gets one or they get a part of one only to have it ripped away from them in the end. Leaving them more broken than they ever believed they could be in their lives. I thought I had it all: the fame, the happiness, and most importantly, the love. What a load of bullshit! I definitely didn't have love. She wanted me for nothing more than my fame and money in the end. So after nine years together-four of those years spent married-we ended up getting the big D. Thankfully, there were no children in the mix, otherwise I would have to deal with the royal bitch for the rest of my life. But this isnât mine and the royal bitchâs story. Nope, this is Ellaâs and my story; the story of how we came to be. True, we had more going in the end than we realized at the time, but I wouldnât change one thing about our time together. Not one thing. About The Author: Hey everyone! My name Jasmine and I live in East Texas in a small town. I would love to tell you this great adventure about myself but it wouldn't be true so I'll stick with the boring version. Born and raised in a small town; growing up I was more of the loaner then anything. Never dated the guy of my dreams. But I grew up & married the perfect guy for me! I write mainly for the fun of it & it's my stress reliever!  Pre-Order Blitz Run To You by Kandice Michelle Young Release Date: 10th Feb 2015 I moved to New York for a fresh start. I did not move here to fall for a man like Sebastian. Sebastian Black came into my life like a storm in the peak of the nightâ¦dark, raging, all-consuming, and guaranteed to leave destruction in his wake. From the moment our eyes met, he had a hold on me. I wanted, craved, and needed him like nothing I had ever desired before. The problem was he needed total submission. From the moment he handed me the contract, I knew what he was proposing would destroy me. What I had not planned was his ability to make me crave destruction. I would lose myself in him. Sebastian knew how to take me over the edge, and before I even knew it, I wanted to go freefalling. It was evident that my past had the ability to destroy us. What I had not calculated was the power of his to do the same. My dark, brooding, impeccably sexual, alpha-male had his own crosses to bear. I was not sure I was strong enough to handle them, or the woman who helped chain him there. US UK CA AUS âThe elevator comes to an abrupt stop and the doors open. I try to pull away from him, but he nibbles on my neck and I let out another deep moan. The door slides closed once more. Sebastian stops it with his foot, dislodging his fingers and straightening my dress for me. âWeâre here.â âNo we were there then you stopped.â I smile knowingly at him and follow him into the foyer, brightened only by warm, recessed lighting. I glance around looking for art on the walls, but all I see is beige, which is a direct contrast to the dark granite tiles at my feet. We move from the foyer into a more open kitchen, connected to a minimalistic living space. There is a steel table in the center with soft white couches on either side. Sebastian leads me to an island made of dark wood and marble, and gestures for me to sit on one of the white leather stools. âWine,â he suggests. I smile. âSure.â âDom. Romaine?â He asks, as he pulls an expensive looking bottle from the rack. âSebastian, I donât know much about wine except that it's better when itâs not stale. Iâm sure whatever you have will be fine.â He pours two glasses of a dark red and hands me one. I take a casual sip as I glance around, noting the granite countertops. âLetâs move to the sitting room,â he says, taking my hand. âI want you as comfortable as possible for this.â My sex responds to his words and I feel a residual hunger building in me from our unfinished encounter just moments before. I follow him into the living room and sit on one of the plush white couches, noticing a fantastic stone fireplace, but still no art. He sits on the couch adjacent to mine. âYou know thereâs plenty of room over here. I promise I wonât bite. Well, at least not that hard,â I say playfully. âIâm fine here, thank you,â he responds. I canât help the slump in my shoulders as I cross my legs and lean into the cushion for support. âDanielle, you neednât be disappointed. There are many things I want to do to your body, and I will do them all.â He smiles. âBut, first I think we need to reach an agreement.â I feel the excitement pulsing through my veins again. âOkâ¦â He places his glass on the table and rises to his feet. âThereâs something I should show you. Wait here.â Kandice is⦠â¦a serial lover of all things pink, self-proclaimed chocoholic, home-schooling mother, and wannabe yogi. Her debut erotica novel, Run to You, the first in the series Run, is coming soon. Kandiâs love of storytelling can be traced back to her fourth grade year, when a history lesson on Native Americans became too unimaginative for her liking. She took it upon herself to liven things up by creating a story that was based on half-truths about a self-named Indian Princess. Kandice is in fact of Native American heritage (her great-grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee) and in her own mind a princess, so you can see where her inspiration came from. Her story was a huge hit with friends, and an author was born. Kandice was born and raised in rural Arkansas, where she currently lives with her husband and three children. Though, if you ask her sheâll confirm that her soul is lost somewhere on the west coast waiting for the day that her body can rejoin it. Hosted by I'm running, as fast and as far as I can. My past is trying to shatter me, but I am determined not to let it. I've come this far, I won't let it break me now.I had to stop in a small town to get enough money to run again, but I found myself wanting to stay. The reason? Jaxon Walker. He doesn't make me so afraid. He comforts me. But how much comfort will it take before my walls shatter? And what happens when my past finds me? Will it destroy me finally or could Jax possibly save me? My name is Bailey Winsor and this is my story.</ a> “Oh Jaxon.” I moan and dig my nails into his back. “Fuck, Angel,” he hisses. “I can feel it. You’re already so wet for me." This spurs him on and he pushes me to my back and settles himself between my thighs. He’s sitting back on his legs. With my legs on either side of him resting on his, I’m somewhat open and exposed to him, even though I’m still wearing my clothes. Jaxon watches me with steel blue eyes as he runs his hands slowly up my calves and thighs. When he reaches my stomach, his fingers dip underneath my tank top. He moves them to my sides. With slow movements, his hands continue their upward motion, bringing my shirt along with him. I halt his movements by placing my hands on his. “Angel, we don’t...” He starts but I stop him before he can finish. I shake my head and say, “No, it’s not that. I don’t want you to stop. I just...” I stop because I don’t know what to say. How do you tell a man that your body is riddled with ugly marks? Taking a deep breath I haltingly try to explain. “Steven...h-he liked to...mark me. I’ve got...scars. A lot of them. They aren’t pretty. I want to warn you before you see them for yourself.” As I talk I see pure rage enter Jaxon’s face. After closing his eyes and breathing deeply a few times he opens them again and the rage is gone, replaced with a soft understanding look. “Baby, no matter how many scars you have you could never look anything but beautiful to me.” His words touch a place inside me that allows some of my insecurities to let go. His words are pure and I believe them. I move my hands from his and place them on his thighs. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine as he starts moving his hands again to pull my shirt up. It’s slow and torturous. I want him to hurry, but then I’m dreading when he sees them. When his fingers skim over the side of my breast, my breathing starts to pick up. The warmth his hands leave behind makes me throb for more. My shirt is now over my breast, but his eyes still remain on mine. “Arms up, baby and lift for me.” He says quietly. Lifting my upper body off the bed, I sit up and bring my arms above my head. Jaxon finishes removing my shirt. His chest is right in front of my face. I bring my hands back down to his sides and lean forward to kiss his chest, but Jaxon pulls back and grabs both sides of my face to bring it up to his. “Not yet. Lay back, I want to look at you.” Alex Grayson is originally from the south but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio she absolutely loves living in the north. She and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, two dogs, two cats, and 8 ducks. She hopes to eventually get chickens and a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at [email protected]
Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads Seventh Mark - Part 1 (Hidden Secrets #1) by W.J. May Cover design by: Book Cover by Design Edits by: Regina Mitchell Book III â Marked by Destiny Coming 2014 Book IV â Compelled Coming 2015 Like most teenagers, Rouge is trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to be. With little knowledge about her past, she has questions but has never tried to find the answers. Everything changes when she befriends a strangely intoxicating family. Siblings Grace and Michael, appear to have secrets which seem connected to Rouge. Her hunch is confirmed when a horrible incident occurs at an outdoor party. Rouge may be the only one who can find the answer. An ancient journal, a Sioghra necklace and a special mark force life-altering decisions for a girl who grew up unprepared to fight for her life or others. All secrets have a cost and Rougeâs determination to find the truth can only lead to troubleâ¦or something even more sinister. *Warning: This book will end on a cliffhanger. Book 2 picks up where this book ends.* Copyright 2013 by W.J. May Chapter 1 Ear buds stuffed in, I cranked the volume on my iPod and clicked my exercise shuffle. I jogged down the gravel driveway and turned to follow the last bit of sunset. If only I could draw or paint⦠Crossing an intersection, I headed left and let my legs carry me away from the small houses, run-down yards, cracked door screens and broken-down cars into a block of bigger houses. The lawns rolled further away from the sidewalk and the houses grew farther apart. Maybe one day Iâll buy a place like this. I snorted at the thought. Even though Iâd never admit it to anyone, a part of me is cursed. Like poison running through my veins, Iâve always believed it would catch up with me. I didnât know the whys or howâs, but deep down it seemed inevitable. Except now fate intervened, and for once in my life, thank goodness. If it hadnât, I wouldnât be here, in this awesome place on the other side of the country. The whole curse thing was probably just in my head. I gazed straight in front, between the old giant trees lining the roads. The jagged pink and white peaks reflected snow from the remains of the setting sun made me appreciate the beauty of nature. West coast, oh yeah! I smiled, unable to keep the giddiness inside. Iâd lived all my life in Niagara Falls, but thisâwords couldnât begin to describe this beauty. Inhaling real fresh pine scent, not the kind from cleaning agents from the past two days, I savoured the moment. If Family and Children Services hadnât approved Jim and Sallyâs request, I wouldnât be seeing real mountains for the first time. As quick as the bubble came up, it burst. Next January Iâd be eighteen and no longer at the benefit of the government. Jim and Sally were decent foster parents, but they also made it clear they couldnât afford to help me with college. I quickened my pace. I didnât want to think about where I might be in a year. Youâll be on your ownâ¦no family. Nothing. Unwanted again. The imaginary little devil on my left shoulder laughed at me. Music shouted in my ear, âYouâre supposed to be alone. Aloneâ¦loneâ¦loneâ¦â I glanced at my left shoulder and pretended to flick the imaginary devil off, nearly crashing into the old high-stoned wall lining the neighborhood. Regaining my balance and focus, I pulled the iPod out of my pocket and skipped to the next song. Street lights flickered on. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness without even letting my brain know. I should turn around before itâs completely black. Didnât want to be out on my own when I barely knew the area. A gap ahead in the high wall caught my attention. Curiosity won. Instead of heading back, I pushed forward. A public park entrance came into view. Heavy black iron gates led me onto a smooth paved entrance. A large raised garden split the road in two. A plaque set into the gardenâs stone wall made me smile. End of an Era. From the raised stones peeking behind the garden flowers, this was a cemetery, not a park. The owner obviously had a sense of humor along with the desire to create one of those resting places with a welcome. A twenty-something looking woman whizzed by on roller blades, waving as she passed. The pathways were lit up with those new solar green energy lights. I took the first lane along the outer border and slowed my pace. The tall slate and marble gravestones were erected on the left side with an ancient forest lining the right. As I jogged, I passed through a part of the cemetery that mustâve been the original lot with worn-down, ancient-looking stones. I paused or weaved between the stones to read the odd one: â1886 John Hartzel -- 18 years of age, 1892 Patrick OâReilly -- died too young, Tammy Fortune 1802 -1822.â Whatâs with this place? Canât come here if youâre over thirty? Squinting, I jogged closer to a raised tombstone with a concrete angel resting on top. Using my hand, which carried my iPod, I rested it on the corner of the stone to steady myself. I leaned forward for a better look at the inscription. Poor thing, same age as the others. I straightened and pushed off to finish my run. The cord from my iPod snagged the angelâs head, yanking the buds from my earsâthe iPod went flying from my hand. âCrap!â I skidded to a stop on the damp grass and used my palms to hug my ears. It hurt like a bitch. I glanced up at the stone figurine and grimaced. Imagine trying to decapitate an angel. People were probably rolling in their graves right now. Double crap! My iPod. It better not be busted. Night had fully descended, which didnât work in my favor. I got down on my knees and began groping in the dark, futilely trying to scan the grass. The little solar lights were useless. âOf course, I had to buy the black case,â I mumbled and shook my head as I crawled to check under a nearby bench. Cobwebs caressed my face, which had me doing a karate twitch dance as I tried to knock off any possible spiders and remove the webs. A twig snapped, followed by a muffled laugh. I froze, waiting, tense, my head cocked to the side. It was dead quiet. As it should be in a cemetery. No noise. Not a sound. âDummy.â I got out from under the bench, sat up and brushed off my sweatshirt. Itâd taken months to save for the iPod. I dropped down to search again clawing at chunks of grass. Iâm not leaving till I find it, even if I have to swallow some hairy, icky spiders. âYou lose something?â A low, gruff voice broke through the dark. âOr are you digging your own grave?â Seventh Mark part 2 US UK Compelled Coming 2015 Wanita May grew up in the fruit belt of Ontario - St.Catharines. Crazy-happy childhood, she always has had a vivid imagination and loads of energy. The youngest of six -- four older brothers, and a sister -- taught her at a young age to be competitive in all aspects of life. At sixteen, she began competing in athletics (track and field) and before she turned seventeen, she was representing Canada in high jump. She continued to compete, breaking Canada's JR High Jump record (1.92m - 6' 3 1/2" for those metric-ly challenged). She attented University of Toronto, and Kansas State University - winning CIAU's and becoming All-American 6x - NCAA Indoors Runner Up + more. But you're not interested in her athletic career - unless of course you're curious to know she stands 1.70m (5'7") and has jumped 20cm over her head on more than one occasion. She's represented Canada at the World Championships, World Jrs., won Francophone Games, and loved every minute of every competition. From the grueling workouts, the crazy weights she lifted on her back, the days she thought her lungs were going to spit out of her mouth for lack of oxygen, the travelling around the world and the opportunity to read - her favourite past time. Life continued with her husband (a distance runner from Liverpool, UK, who she met at KSU) and then their first, then second and finally third child. Their house became full of more imagination and stories. Wanita and her husband run an online business, dealing in antiques and collectibles - particularly jewelry and porcelain (one of the business' website: www.wadeincanada.com ). After her father passed away in 2009, from a six-year battle with cancer (which she still believes he won the fight against), she began to write again. A passion she'd loved for years, but realized life was too short to keep putting it off. Her first book, Rae of Hope - from the Chronicles of Kerrigan - will be available October 2011 by kNight Romance Publishing. She is currently represented by Dawn Dowdle of Blue Ridge Literary Agency. Wanita is a writer of Young Adult, Fantasy Fiction and where ever else her little muses take her. Blog Tour Rae of Hope (the Chronicles of kerrigen) by W.J May & Cover reveal for book 5 & 61/6/2015 Dec 27th - Jan 6th How hard do you have to shake the family tree to find the truth about the past? Fifteen year-old Rae Kerrigan never really knew her family's history. Her mother and father died when she was young and it is only when she accepts a scholarship to the prestigious Guilder Boarding School in England that a mysterious family secret is revealed. Will the sins of the father be the sins of the daughter? As Rae struggles with new friends, a new school and a star-struck forbidden love, she must also face the ultimate challenge: receive a tattoo on her sixteenth birthday with specific powers that may bind her to an unspeakable darkness. It's up to Rae to undo the dark evil in her family's past and have a ray of hope for her future. Currently Free On Amazon Chapter 1 Guilder Boarding School âYou canât undo the past. The sins of the father are the sins of the son, or in this case, daughter.â Uncle Argyleâs ominous words had echoed in Raeâs head long after he dropped her off at the airport. âA proverb of truthâ he had called it. Who spoke like that nowadays? Some good-bye. Tightening her ponytail and futilely trying to tuck her forever-escaping dark curls behind her ears, she looked at her watch, then out the bus window at the tree lined countryside. It seemed strange to see the sun. All she remembered was rain when she had lived in Britain nine years ago. Trying to get comfortable, Rae tucked her foot up on the seat, and rested her head against her knee as she looked out at the scenery flashing by. A sign outside the window showed the miles before the bus reached Guilder. Itâd be another twenty-five minutes. She popped her ear buds in, blew the bangs away from her forehead and stared out the window across the rolling farm fields, trying to let the music from her iPod distract her. It didnât work. Just when she felt the tension begin to ease from her shoulders and she started to get into the song, something caught her eye. Black smoke billowed just near the top of a lush green hill. Rae stared, her heart fluttering as an old memory began to take hold. She knew what that smoke meant. Sheâd seen it before, long ago. Someoneâs house was burning. Crap, crap crap, no I donât want to go there. Her heart started racing and her stomach turned over, making her feel nauseous. Dropping her knee, she gripped the seat in front of her, burying her face in her hands taking deep breathes, like the therapists taught her to do. Sheâd gone through years of therapy to treat what had been called âpanic attacksâ. It didnât matter what other people called it. To her, it was simply hell; like being sucked back in time against her will, to a place she never wanted to revisit. So she breathed the way sheâd been taught, slow breathe in, all the way, then slow breath out, all the time chanting itâs not real, itâs not real in her head. It helped calm her racing heart and made her feel more in control, but it didnât erase the memory. Nothing on Earth could do that. Being back in England for the first time and seeing the strange smoke, Rae felt six years old all over again. Sheâd been in the living room coloring with new markers before bed when her mother told her to take them to the tree house her dad had built for her and play there until she called her in. That call never came. The blaze bounced horrific shadows around the inside of the tree house. The stinky black smoke slithered in and scared her little six year old self in ways the monsters under her bed never had. Rae shuddered and lurched upright, forcefully bringing herself back to the present. Could this school be any further into the sticks? Glancing around the now vacant bus, she wondered if the driver had purposely left her until last. Sheâd watched the last few people get off at a school about fifteen minutes ago, Roe-something or other. They all looked the same, all pretty girls with blonde hair, not one of them thin, pale, and tall like her. They hadnât been friendly. Big surprise there⦠She was used to it. She tended to fly under the radar at best. So she handled them the way she always handled the ones who instantly didnât like her for no reason she could come up with. Rae avoided making eye contact and tried to appear immersed in the Guilder Boarding School brochure. It wasnât that she didnât want to make friends. Sheâd just never really had any. Most kids her age either didnât like her or didnât notice her. It bugged her that Uncle Argyle had pushed so hard for her to go when Guilder sent the letter. Heâd been the one to move them all from Scotland to New York when sheâd come to live with them, taking her away from the horrible tragedy of her parentsâ death, and now, he suddenly leapt at the chance for her to go back? It didnât make any sense. It sort of sucked to leave her current high school. She lacked close friends, but she also lacked enemies, which was a plus in her book. The girls there seemed just as stuck up as the ones whoâd gotten off the bus earlier, but theyâd simply ignored her. Rae always told herself it didnât matter anyway. Cliques were so passé in her opinion. Another weird thing that she couldnât seem to find an answer to was why Guilder would choose her? How did they even know she existed? Her uncle boasted how big a deal it was for her to be selected, but heâd never once explained how theyâd even come to know about her in the first place. She had the grades, the brain part always came easy for her, but she didnât have any extra-curricular activities at all, nothing to make her stand out. So, how had this amazing school sheâd never heard of before decide to take her on? It didnât make any sense. She tried a few times before she left to corner her uncle and get him to explain part or all of it, but heâd always seemed to be busy. While this wasnât exactly abnormal behavior for him, it still left her with a sense of foreboding, something that had clung to her ever since she got the letter. She couldnât figure out why, but she had a strong sense that something big was coming. Whether it was good or bad, she didnât know. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, pulling her mind out of the endless circle of questions in her head. She turned to look out the window, and was stunned to see the largest bird sheâd ever seen in her life. Maybe an eagle? The thing flew parallel with the bus, right beside her. Pressing her face against the cool glass, her gaze focused intently on the curious sight. She jerked back when its large wings flapped, brushed the window, and then veered away. She watched its graceful flight as it soared and then swooped to settle onto the limb of a large tree just ahead. As the bus passed by, the bird seemed to lock eyes with Rae and she was mesmerized. Rae had always wondered what it would feel like to be a bird, to fly so free, go anywhere the wind took her. She continued to watch the bird until she couldnât see it anymore, then slumped back into her seat as the bus sped onward down the long road. Guilder Boarding School. She gnawed at the cuticle on her thumbnail a little too hard and ripped the skin, drawing a wince from her. She couldnât help it, she always did this when she was nervous. Sheâd be the only American girl. Well, not really American. She held a British passport but had moved to New York after her parents died in the fire, leaving her orphaned. Soâ¦not really American, not really British; a little of both, but belonging to neither. The bus cruised by an aged stone sign. Guilder Boarding School, Founded 1520. One of Britainâs Finest Educational Institutions. Rae read the sign and wondered how a school could be that old and not be featured in stories or online. She found nothing when she tried researching it. They drove under an old, leaded window arch that connected two round, red-brick towers. The stream of people coming and going from the doors at the bottom made her think it must be some kind of office. She craned her neck to get a better view. The buildings were old but were well kept and held an almost magical aura of their original Tudor era. She half expected to see men in tights and codpieces strutting down the road, leading their horses, with corseted ladies perched delicately atop them. The mental picture amused her and she absent-mindedly smiled. Her eyes were drawn to the ornate, brick chimneys along the buildingsâ roofs. She glimpsed the other buildings beyond. This place looks hugeâ¦hope I donât get lost. The driver pulled to a halt in front of a building with an embossed plaque that said âAumbry Houseâ. The ancient building had ivy growing all over it. It looked like it was probably older than Henry VIII, leaving Rae with horrifying visions of chamber pots dancing in her head. It better have indoor plumbing⦠The bus door slid open with a hiss. Rae gathered her two small suitcases and her book bag, clambered down the aisle and finally, blessedly, off the bus. âWelcome to Guilder, Ms. Kerrigan.â Rae awkwardly spun around to face the voice, finding that a tall, thin woman stood on the concrete steps of the building, her eyes darting left and right, pausing on Rae for barely more than a few seconds. Rae stared, wondering where the lady had come from. She wasnât there a moment ago. Rae looked at the womanâs long, wool skirt. This might be England, but today is sweltering. How is she not melting in this heat? âI am Madame Elpis, your house mistress.â The lady darted down the large concrete steps, pausing on the last step and, in one fluid motion, tucked her clip board under an armpit and extended her hand. The womanâs features reminded Rae of a bird â her jet-black hair, dark eyes, and especially the jutting nose. Rae nodded and dropped a suitcase so she could return the handshake, her fingers crushed by the womanâs claw-like grip. Ow, ow, ow! So youâre freakishly strong, got it. âCome along. No time for dilly-dallying.â She turned and marched up the steps, not checking to see if Rae followed or needed any help with her bags. Huffing out a breath, Rae grabbed her things and clambered to follow, hearing the bus driver chuckle as he closed the door behind her. Iâm spending the next two years here? What joy; What freakinâ bliss. Hammering and drilling noises from above greeted Rae as she came through the entrance. The clamor echoed throughout the building. âFifteen and sixteen-year-olds are on the second floor,â Madame Elpis shouted above the noise. âYour room is the last door on the left.â She checked the chart sheâd been holding under her arm. âMolly Skye is your roommate. I assume you can find the way.â The last part was more statement than question. âThank you,â Rae replied uncertainly, not knowing what else to say. Madame Elpis pointed to a door on her left. âThe study hallâs through there. The glass doors lead to the game room. The door to your right is to my living quarters. You are not permitted there.â She led Rae to the winding staircase made of black and white marble. âJuniors are on the second floor, seniors on the third and fourth.â She glanced at an old pocket watch hanging on a chain around her neck and, if possible, straightened even more. âDinner is at five oâclock, sharp.â She turned, her skirt swirling as she darted into her room, and with a kick of her boot, slammed the door. Rae exhaled the breath she hadnât realize sheâd been holding. The banging of hammers and screeching whine of electric saws reverberated through the hallway. She was so nervous, the hammering could have been coming from her heart and she wouldnât have been able to tell the difference. Rae took her time up the marble stairs and, once on the landing, headed left to the end of the hall. Biting the inside of her cheek, she gave a light knock at the slightly open door and peered in. Empty. Rae cautiously pushed the door open and surveyed her new room. Thick, lush brown carpet covered the floor. Two beds, with matching duvets and tan suede pillows, rested against the opposing walls. One of which already sat full of half-empty suitcases. Modern closets with ample space matched perfectly with the antique desks built into the wall by each oriel window. Rae inhaled deeply, taking in a mingled sense of fresh paint and the unique scent of antiques. Finally! Itâd been one helluva long day of traveling. Much of the tension ebbed from her shoulders and she cracked a smile for the first time in hours. Rae dropped her suitcases on the uncluttered side of the room. Her roommate, Molly, must have stepped out halfway through unpacking. Her closet doors were spread open, with hangers already full of clothes and more shoes than Rae had owned in her entire life. Sheâd never been big on dressing up, but she still knew designer labels when she saw them and she saw an awful lot of them in that closet. Hopefully, her roommate didnât end up being superficial. Rae stood there wondering how sheâd deal with it if she had to room with Guilderâs Next Super Model. Visions of her roommate stomping up and down the room in heels practicing her âwalkâ distracted her. She didnât hear the footsteps walking down the hall to the door. âWhat are you doing in me room?â Rae jumped and dropped her purse. A fashionably dressed girl stood in the doorway. She had dark, mahogany red hair, the kind women paid insane amounts of money to try to copy. Oh greatâ¦well, here we go. âMolly?â Rae swallowed. âIâm your new roommate.â Molly stared Rae up and down. âYouâre Rae Kerrigan? I pictured someone totally different. Youâre not scary at all!â She laughed as if at some private joke. Scary? Me? What is she talking about? âNameâs Molly Skye. Iâm from Cardiff, in Wales.â She shoved one of her suitcases onto the floor and dropped into the small, open space on the bed. Rae watched, confused. Why would anyone think of her as scary? Because she lived in New York? She had a terrible premonition of being the odd one out, and school hadnât even started yet. âYouâre not sixteen, eh? No taâtoo?â Molly pointedly dropped her gaze down to Raeâs waist, as if she expected Rae to show her something. Tattoo? Rae squinted, trying to listen closer to Mollyâs accent. The way she spoke, some of the words were hard to make out. Why would she ask if I have a tattoo? âMy birthdayâs in three days. Itâs going to be so awesome!â Molly leaned back on her elbows. âWhenâs yers?â âMy birthday? Uhâ¦not âtil November.â Straight into the personal info. Okay, I think I know what my roommate is going to be like. âNovember? You do have a long wait.â Molly grimaced and shook her head. âPoor you. Youâll be the last one inked for sure.â She jumped off the bed. Rae noted the strange comment, but Mollyâs motor-mouth went speeding on, so she filed it away for examination at a later time. âWhatâd you think of our room? Pretty cool, eh? Aside from the construction on the floors above us.â She shot the ceiling an annoyed look. âI just talked to one of the workers. He said they finish at four. They start again at like eight in the morning! Can you believe that? Who gets up at that time, anyway?â Wow. Molly can talk without pausing for breath.Rae nodded and tried to keep up. She watched Molly roll from the balls of her feet to her heels, back and forth continually. It was a typically nervous gesture that Rae attributed to meeting new people. Everybody has their issues, but itâs still surprising, considering how fast sheâs talking. âCan you believe we got invited to Guilder? Weâre two of sixteen females within a landmass of rich, supposedly unattainable, handsome boys.â When Rae didnât respond, Molly squinted at her. âYou do know why youâre here, right?â Rae shrugged. Jet lag seemed to be eating her brain cells. âTo be honest, I donât really know what you mean. I havenât been in England since I was six and I know nothing about Guilder.â Despite numerous Google searches at home and having my nose buried in the brochure for an hour on the ride here. âYouâre not slow or something, are you?â Rae shook her head slowly wondering if her talkative new roomie had just insulted her. Molly stared, scratching her head. âYou really donât know, do you?â She looked up and to the left, obviously recalling something important. She straightened, as if quoting some bit of brochure from memory. âGuilderâs a highly sought after educational institution, but it is primarily a school for the gifted. People who get to go to Guilder know why. The rest of the world has no idea!â Rae curled her fingers tight, her nails digging into her palms. She felt stupid and also irritated at herself for feeling stupid. It wasnât something she wanted to deal with, especially after such a long day of travel. âWhat makes usâ¦gifted?â Mollyâs eyes grew huge. She paced the room. âOh, my... Me daâs never going to believe this. You seriously donât know ANYTHING?!â Rae felt her blood pressure rising. She knew she was tired, confused, and nervous. None of that it was helping her temper, but she was determined not to lose it on what amounted to a total stranger. She pressed her lips tight to stop any snappish comment that might escape. Canât the ditz just answer a simple question with a straight answer? Molly swung around in front of Rae, dramatically squared her shoulders, and put on a serious face. âWhen we turn sixteen, we receive our ink blot.â âWhat?â âA taâtoo.â She leaned forward and whispered, âIt gives us special powers.â Pauseâ¦say what? âP-Powers?â Rae tried not to laugh. Had her uncle sent her to an institution for the insane? âYouâre kidding, right?â Uncle Argyle had told her the experience would change her life, but hadnât said how. Rae figured he meant sheâd do some growing up â like a maturity thing. And, of course, there was that silly proverb. But perhaps heâd mistakenly sent her off to a giant rubber room. Molly waved a hand. âIâm serious. The gift is passed down from generation to generation.â She blew out an exaggerated breath. âAny guy around here whoâs sixteen has a taâtoo on the inside of his forearm.â She dragged Rae toward the window and pointed to the building across from them. âThatâs the boysâ dorm. Letâs go outside and walk around. Iâll get one of them to show you what I mean.â Her eyes dropped down to Raeâs clothes, her lips pursed tight together. âDo you fancy a quick change before we go?â Rae laughed, despite her roommateâs serious expression. Molly definitely was crazy, but she had a point. Sheâd dressed comfortably for travel, and even though she wasnât big on fashion, even she drew the line at meeting her new classmates looking like a worked-over hag. She could use some freshening-up. âYeah, give me a moment.â âIâm off downstairs to try and find some cute boys. Meet me outside when youâre ready.â Molly left, still chattering nonstop with no one in the hall to listen. Rae opened the closest suitcase and grabbed the first pair of jeans and top within reach. She hesitated and dug a little deeper into her suitcase. The jeans were fine, they were new, but a white t-shirt seemed too plain. She found a pink Converse tank top with ONE STAR written in sparkles. She pulled out her hair tie, wishing her unruly black curls were straight like Mollyâs perfect hair. She never bothered with makeup because she had crazy-long eyelashes that mascara seemed to only want to clomp up against, and almost everything else just made her look kinda like a sloppy hooker. Keep it simple, thatâs what her aunt had always told her. She settled for lip gloss, and deodorant, and then grabbed a pair of sandals before tossing her purse under her pillow. Now, time to find out what Mollyâs been babbling on about, or at least, maybe meet some cute guys. She might be invisible most of the time, but eye candy was eye-candy, no matter which side of the Atlantic it was seen on. Once outside, she shaded her eyes against the bright sunlight with her hand and searched for her new roommate. Molly stood further down the sidewalk, talking to a very hot guy with chestnut brown hair, dark eyes and a dimple on his right cheek. It disappeared when he stopped smiling and began talking again, making Rae a little sad. She wanted to see that dimple again. Rae bounded down the steps, and then slowed down, trying not to appear too excited. She flinched and covered her head when a loud crashing noise sounded from above, and a large piece of debris flew down from the fourth floor and landed in the blue bin beside her. Face burning, she pretended it hadnât bothered her and continued walking. Molly and the boy turned to stare in her direction. Rae heard someone holler from above, but couldnât make out what the guy said. Embarrassed by her reaction a moment before, she ignored the shout and kept walking. Mollyâs eyes grew big, her hands flew to her cheeks and her mouth dropped open. She screamed. Rae stared as Molly frantically pointed above her head. Rae tipped her head up. She froze in horror when she saw a huge, severed piece of wood paneling balanced like a seesaw on the window ledge several floors above. The wood scraped against the windowsill, and teetered as if undecided which way it should fall. Oh crap! A gust of hot, dry wind blew by, knocking the severed beam into final decent. It spun as it fell and all sound was just gone. Fight or flight. Rae dropped her gaze, her eyes darted about. The guy beside Molly moved toward her frozen frame. Everything moved in slow motion except for the guy running like a freight train. He was greased lightning, moving faster than anything Rae had ever seen. It didnât seem possible for a person to move so fast. And why am I focused on him when Iâm about to be squashed like a bug? Book I â Rae of Hope Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gILAwXxx8MU The Chronicles of Kerrigan UK US Book III â House of Cards, now available UK US Book IV â Royal Tea, coming January 2015 Wanita May grew up in the fruit belt of Ontario - St.Catharines. Crazy-happy childhood, she always has had a vivid imagination and loads of energy. The youngest of six -- four older brothers, and a sister -- taught her at a young age to be competitive in all aspects of life. At sixteen, she began competing in athletics (track and field) and before she turned seventeen, she was representing Canada in high jump. She continued to compete, breaking Canada's JR High Jump record (1.92m - 6' 3 1/2" for those metric-ly challenged). She attented University of Toronto, and Kansas State University - winning CIAU's and becoming All-American 6x - NCAA Indoors Runner Up + more. But you're not interested in her athletic career - unless of course you're curious to know she stands 1.70m (5'7") and has jumped 20cm over her head on more than one occassion. She's represented Canada at the World Championships, World Jrs., won Francophone Games, and loved every minute of every competition. From the grueling workouts, the crazy weights she lifted on her back, the days she thought her lungs were going to spit out of her mouth for lack of oxygen, the travelling around the world and the opportunity to read - her favourite past time. Life continued with her husband (a distance runner from Liverpool, UK, who she met at KSU) and then their first, then second and finally third child. Their house became full of more imagination and stories. Wanita and her husband run an online business, dealing in antiques and collectables - particularly jewelry and porcelain (one of the business' website: www.wadeincanada.com ). After her father passed away in 2009, from a six-year battle with cancer (which she still believes he won the fight against), she began to write again. A passion she'd loved for years, but realized life was too short to keep putting it off. Her first book, Rae of Hope - from the Chronicles of Kerrigan - will be available October 2011 by kNight Romance Publishing. She is currently represented by Dawn Dowdle of Blue Ridge Literary Agency. Wanita is a writer of Young Adult, Fantasy Fiction and where ever else her little muses take her. Hosted by Obsessive Pimpettes Promotions Bound: Strand Brothers Series, book 2 (Due to the subplot it is not recommended you read this book as a standalone.) Synopsis When submission, love, and something far too terrifying bind. How far will you go for someone you love? Which lines are you willing to cross? Who will you turn to when the ones that should be there for you aren't? Lacey Kincaid is in search of her drug addicted, twin sister, Keeley. But every time she locates her, Keeley moves on. Now Keeley has disappeared without a trace and it's up to Lacey to find her before it's too late. Even (pronounced Evan) a.k.a. E Strand is the youngest of three and by far the most dangerous. No, he isn't a badass like his oldest brother, Nik. Nor is he the most handsome like his brother, Alex. His danger lies in his personal preferences in the bedroom. Many know him as the Master and it is a title he deserves. Owner of numerous sex clubs as well as instructor of BDSM Even is fulfilled, until the night a dancer at one of his clubs catches his eye. She's innocent. Beautiful. Off limits. Yet he wants her for his own. It doesn't take long for E to realize the woman he desires to dominate needs his help. As their journey to find Keeley runs into one dead-end after another, passion ignites between these two. But is it enough to bind them together forever? Or, will the bond between sisters keep the lovers apart? Can they free Keeley from the clutches of a madman in time? And if they do, will happily ever after be in their future? Due to violence, language, & sexual content this book is not recommended for anyone under the age of 18. Excerpt 18+ My eyes lit on the dancer that was mine as she moved her scantily clad ass to the Pussycat Dolls’ “Buttons.” I would do more than loosen her up. That was for damn sure. Fuck me. They were doing that chair scene and I immediately knew we would be replaying it in my playroom. My dick flinched at the thought. Down boy, let her finish the set. I adjusted the fly on my jeans. I’d had to change out of my ruined Armani, so I was beyond uncomfortable in the unforgiving denim. I strode towards the hallway off the stage, pacing like a caged lion as I watched her move. God, she was fantastic. What I could teach her to do with those assets was making me even harder. As if that were possible. The dance had finally come to an end, and one by one the girls passed me. Stella winked on her way by, promise in her sexy sway. She had always been a flirt. I liked her and her boyfriend, one of the bartenders, Gary. She should’ve known me well enough by now that I didn’t mess around with another man’s woman. Plus, I wasn’t into threesomes. I inclined my head when she peeked back over her shoulder at me, acknowledging her flirtations would need to be discussed sooner rather than later. All of a sudden the hairs on my body stood at attention—joining my erection—as the current of awareness slid over me. Sweet baby Jesus, what this woman did to me should’ve scared me shitless; instead, it made me want her more. I slowly turned just in time to place my body in direct contact with hers. My eyes closed at the intensity. Fire swirled in my gut as electricity sang in my veins. In a swift movement, I locked her in my arms and trapped her against the wall. Whoa, she was tall. With those four-inch CFMPs on, we were eye to eye. Such possibilities we had with that advantage. I leaned in, stroking her jaw with my teeth, as I lightly bit my way to her rosy, full bottom lip. She gasped at my forwardness when I sucked said lip into my mouth. Just what I need to make my entrance. I claimed her mouth with all the pent-up desire I had in me. Holy hell, she was as sweet as I had imagined. After a few minutes, I pulled back for air and clasped her hand, “My office,” I demanded, “Now.” At least one of my fantasies was being met tonight. Because I already knew wasn’t letting her go any time soon.Buy Links for Bound: (ADD BUY LINKS) Branded: Strand Brothers Series, book 1 Buy Links for Branded: Amazon B&N Kobo Smashwords Author Bio Lora is a Missouri native who relocated to California as a teen. She spent several years as an international flight attendant for a major airline, before taking on her greatest job ever, a stay-at-home mom. Now she resides in Kentucky with her family, and has taken on her newest adventure, writing. Stalking links: Website tsū Goggle+ Goodreads Author Rafflecopter: Title: Around The Bend Author: Britney King Book Blitz: January 5-7 Hosted by: SBB Promotions Add to Goodreads
If you were to pass me on the street, you probably wouldn’t even look twice. I’m that normal. I’m just like you, only wealthier. I have it all. The kids, the family, the dog, a house on the hill. Hell—I’m so cliché, I even have a white picket fence. I guess you could say that I’ve dotted my I’s and crossed my T’s. But what I also have—what no one sees in yoga, or at Nieman Marcus, or during the dreadful Ladies Who Lunch charity events I attend (because only God knows why), and perhaps most importantly, in the school pick up line—are secrets. Deep, dark, deadly secrets. We all keep secrets, don’t we? We all have thoughts in our heads, things we do, things about us that if people knew, they’d be shocked…right? Well, what if one day we just decided to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. What if we decided to let the whole world in on our dirty little secrets? And what if along the way, as we were spilling those secrets, we realized that things aren’t always what they seem and with that knowledge, it changed the whole story? In this book, I’m laying it all out there. The unraveling of my life. My coming undone. What one might’ve seen had they been paying attention. What I’ve found in life is people often believe lies before they’ll believe the truth. Well, here it is, in a nutshell. I’ll let you decide which is which.
Myles didn’t wait for a response. He simply grinned, grabbed her arm just above the elbow, and led her out of the bar, and back to his room. Pain was a given, she’d just realized. And sometimes, you just needed to give into it—no matter what form it showed up in. Jessica watched him go as she dug her toes further into the wet sand and squeezed them, watching as the muddy water poured over her feet and enveloped them. She let him get a ways ahead before she allowed herself to smile—just a little. All along she’d let him think he was breaking her, but maybe, just maybe, they’d actually been breaking each other. PLEASE INSERT REVIEW HERE (OR TAKE THIS PART OUT IF NOT REVIEWING) For those of you who prefer it straight up, no chaser: Mama to five. Writer. Juggler extraordinaire. That just about covers it... The extended version and in third person no less ;): Britney is married to a man she adores (when he isn't driving her crazy) and is the mother of FIVE pretty amazing kids, who (surprise!) also have a habit of driving her crazy. Her best guess is that it's genetic. She is the author of two novels, Bedrock and Breaking Bedrock, with plans to release a third and fourth in 2014. In addition, she founded a local network for women in 2012, which has grown to over 1200 members. Currently, she occupies a job she enjoys--serving and running Austin Women's Network. To further prove that she may in fact be certifiably insane, she decided to pursue her dreams and published her debut novel in May of 2013. Then and only then, could she consider her training to be an expert (life) juggler complete. Sale 99c Jan 1st â Jan 7th Plagued by past mistakes in both love and life, Quinn Bardot is in a bad place. With nowhere else to turn, she escapes to LA clinging to the promise of a fresh start. Chase Crowley is known for being selfish and unbelievably persistent. All he's ever wanted is to become a successful actor. But now that he is about to have it all, he finds that something is still missing. Money and fame isn't what he expected. After a fervent encounter, the two of them are thrown into a situation that neither is prepared for. Can Quinn extinguish her fears and let Chase in? Can Chase learn to put someone else's needs before his own? The Last Thing is a novel all about love, Hollywood, and accepting what life throws at you even if it is the last thing you want. (This is a New Adult Romance novel & contains language & adult situations. Not recommended for readers younger than 17) ***The Last Thing is a standalone book with NO cliff hanger ending. It is book one in the series. *** UK US âNice shoes,â a deep voice said from beside me. I almost spit my drink out in surprise. Only two inches away from my face stood a man with chocolate colored eyes and short brown hair that stuck up all over his head as if he had just rolled out of bed. I detected some sort of Hispanic descent in his good looks. He wore a pair of khakis and a tight long-sleeved black t-shirt. He actually seemed normal compared to all the Barbie and Ken dolls around me, and it made me feel at ease. I took a step back so that our faces werenât so close. âYeah, I reckon heels arenât really my thing,â I replied and took another sip from my cup. He chuckled and folded his hands across his chest, one hand stroking his chin as if he were studying me. âWhiskey...high tops...no French manicure...â He picked up one of my hands and studied it. Shocked by the way my heart sped when he touched me, I pulled it out of his grasp. I could feel my face turning red, but I willed my breathing to slow down and hoped that he couldnât see me blush under all of the makeup. He was quite literally the most striking man Iâd ever laid eyes on. The reaction from my body was pure agony. I wanted him, needed him. My loneliness was getting the best of me. No. You donât need him as a distraction. You need a job, a hobby. He is the last thing you need. Youâre having a whiskey reaction. âSorry, I didnât mean to upset you,â he said. I forced myself to look away from his smirk, and finished off the drink in my hand. I turned around and asked the bartender to fill me up again. The drink had already started to affect me, make me loosen up, but I needed a little more to help me with the anxiety. Say something. Donât just stand there! âDonât worry about it,â I mumbled and picked up my filled glass. I was surprised that he was still standing there; I allowed myself to sneak another peek from the corner of my eye. From the way he carried himself he was a bit older than me, maybe in his mid-twenties. The way he laughed and his body language told me that he was charismatic, a charmer. This guy was persistent! âIâm Chase,â he said, holding out his hand. I reluctantly took it, afraid that he could see how unnerved I was. âQuinn, nice to meet you.â He didnât seem to notice my hand trembling as he lifted it up to his lips to place a light kiss on it. He gave me a slight wink that made me go weak in the knees. I was glad that I had high tops on my feet to steady me. Toughen up, Quinn. You can talk to a guy. But only talk. I took another big gulp of my liquid courage. âSo Quinn, how do you know Gillian?â He reached out to pick a piece of lint off my shoulder. I narrowed my eyes in on him. Why was he touching me? âOh, I donât know her. Iâm here with a friend.â I forced myself to look into his eyes, to show him that I wasnât intimidated. âWho?â he asked âGinger Teague,â I told him. He continued with his inquisition, to which I gave short answers. âYou a party crasher?â I raised an eyebrow and answered, âNo, I was invited.â âAn actress?â âNo.â âModel?â I scoffed at his question; as if I had the looks to be a model. âUh, no...â I shook my head in disbelief. âWho are you then? I donât think Iâve seen you around before. I wouldnât forget your face.â I didnât know what to say. It had been so long since Iâd had any male attention. He probably wouldnât give me the time of day if he found out who I was or how much baggage I carried. âInteresting, huh?â âWhat?â I asked âThis party. I bet you have never been so star struck.â Was this guy for real? âI donât know who any of these people are.â âWell then, itâs high time you found out.â He leaned in close and motioned toward the three blonde girls Ginger had introduced me to earlier. âThose three bimbos are twiddle dee, dumb, and twit.â I spit my drink back out into my cup, almost choking from laughter. âDid you call her a twit?â âDamn straight. Though Iâm not sure if it is from her lack of common sense or her twitter addiction.â This was kind of fun. My eyes scanned the room for our next victim âWhat about him?â I pointed toward an older balding man with a twenty-something on his arm. âAh, yes. That is Jordan one of our writers. The girl on his arm just screwed her way up to a leading character.â âIsnât that a bit⦠unethical?â âEveryone in Hollywood is unethical, my dear.â That was my cue to leave. I didnât need guys like him. âAs much as I want to continue on with this flirty banter, I really must get going.â I boldly stuck my drink in his empty hand and spun around on my heels. Bash Maria: UK US The Last Thing Playlist (Find the Spotify playlist at my website) Quinnâs songs Amsterdam by Imagine Dragons What Sarah Said by Deathcab for Cutie Stolen by Dashboard Confessional Blue by A Perfect Circle Now the One you once Loved is Leaving by Lydia Get Home by Bastillle Young Blood by The Naked and Famous One More Day by Lydia Chaseâs songs All The Lights by The Cinema Sheâs On My Arm Now by The Cinema House of Gold by Twenty one Pilots The Exit by Lydia She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer Crooked Teeth by Death Cab For Cutie Lego House by Ed Sheeran Come A Little Closer by Cage The Elephant West Coast by Coconut Records My Dream Cast Ethereal Underground Author Website Hosted by Obsessive Pimpettes Promotions |
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