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text 2018-08-21 12:35
Blog Tour: The Princely Papers by Mohanalakshmi Rajakumar with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Mohanalakshmi Rajakumar’s The Princely Papers. We will have info about the book and author, a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

 

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

Albie Ringham is like most twentysomething men. He likes fast cars and women who look good driving them. As the spare in the Ringham dynasty, he parties in the best nightclubs around the world while his sister Victoria prepares to take the throne one day. When fate thursts the crown back onto Albie's head, three generations of romance, hopes and frustrations come along with it. Can Albie fulfill generations of his family's obligation to become the people's prince? Or will he be lured away from duty by love when introduced to the winsome Rachel?

Buy Link

Amazon

 

Chapter Two Albert Present Day

 

Albert leaned back, though he might as well have tried to move a brick wall. The ornate chair gave no quarter. His lower back remained a knot of muscle, a remnant from his flying days, whenever he sat still. Overhead chandeliers cascaded fifteen feet above the tables, laid for a three-course meal. Oyster forks. Albert unbuttoned his jacket. The schedule read four hours – at the rate they were going, this ceremony would be slower than the Oscars. At the opposite table, a blonde bombshell flashed the valley of her breasts while bending forward for her napkin. Frigid aircon blew on the top of his head though most of the women wore one-shouldered gowns, if they had straps at all. Simpering glances from the others on either side of the blonde came his way. As they had done since he was old enough to register women’s interest. When had that been? When he was five? Shuttled from his mother’s side into boarding school and then the army; his family worked to keep him as far from women as they could. Or was it women as far from the century’s most eligible bachelor? In either case, the women themselves couldn’t be stopped. Like father, like son the tabloid captions read, as Albert worked his way through a stream of interchangeable blonde girlfriends while at university. He shuddered at the comparison. Tonight no one of fuckable age sat in any of the eight seats at his table or at the one immediately to his right. Two women out of the hundreds scattered in rows throughout the ballroom were at his table and these were matronly types. Normally this would irk him. Torie never missed a moment to remind him that, as the keeper of the family crown, her duty was to ensure he stayed in line. Her darling little brother. The heir meant to be the spare. Tonight, however, Albert could use a break after his weekend in the American city of Las Vegas. Like they say, detox. He smirked at the gent in the tuxedo to his left. Seventy if he was a day. Earl… Lord… something. Cufflinks glinted in the dimmed lights. There was a crest there, he could make it out if he squinted a bit longer. Albert lost the summary card with the event details and hadn’t listened while his aide, Edward, gave him the run-down of those seated at his table. Albert shuffled through the notes tucked inside his jacket. Thank everyone for their time. Recognize how important the events are. “Sir.” A waiter, his face filled with wrinkles pulling at deflated cheeks, harrumphed on Albert’s left. “Yes, what is it?” “I present Miss Heather Sparkle.” “Spark—” Albert forgot his caustic remark as an olive-skinned woman slid into the seat on his right. Her high-necked, black lace dress hugged a trim figure. Other than the men in tuxedos, she wore the most fabric of anyone in the room. The tuxedo on the other side of her rumbled about no one being seated after all the royals were in the room. “Most unorthodox,” he said. The waiter looked down a long nose. “I’m sorry, the studio’s helicopter was late.” Sparkle’s eyes darted around the room. Her hands tugged at the ends of long, straight black hair. “Mixed up landing times or something.” She pulled a napkin onto her lap. “Am I a course behind?” In her agitation, she picked up the butter knife, to do what exactly with the empty charger, Albert couldn’t have guessed. “Oh, Miss Sparkle, you made it.” Edward pushed aside the waiter who remained still as a pillar. Albert leaned on one elbow – a sight Torie would have frowned on disapprovingly – to take in the unusual occurrence of a breathless Edward. Normally his dour equerry, inherited from his mother’s staff, would have nudged Albert’s chin off his palm. Except at the moment the unflappable Edward focused entirely on the late arriving guest. “They gave me a hard time at the door,” she said. Slender fingers tapped the bun at her neck before flitting to the check the tear shaped necklace in the hollow of her throat. “No one is allowed in after the prince.” Now she craned her neck as if looking for another prince, one other than he seated next to her. “They didn’t say where he was.” “Oh, he’s–” Edward coughed. “I hope he didn’t see.” Sparkle dropped the knife back onto the plate with a clang. “Those pesky rules.” Albert gave her a wink that the three hundred strong paparazzi would have loved had they been allowed in the ceremony itself, not panting at the entrance for a chance at a close up. “Surely he’s too busy to notice.” “Yes, hopefully no one will notice,” she repeated to herself in a whisper. A fringe of dark lashes lowered. The effect was – alluring. Albert toyed with his butter knife. She in no way fit his type – or the type his sister accused him of having. Blonde, billionaire, party girl. Edward stepped aside as a bevy of waiters approached with warm plates. They elbowed him out of the way in order to set Albert’s dinner on the gold rimmed charger. “The ladies first, please,” he said, in a deeper voice since the vision beside him still hadn’t registered she was in fact sitting by the prince of her concern. “Of course, sir.” That got her attention, he noticed with satisfaction. “Hello,” she said pointedly to Lord-what’s-his-name. A mild shiver ran through Albert. He couldn’t place it as mirth or the sudden onset of a cold from the continued blast of the aircon. She thought the tuxedo was him. No, surely no. Surely everyone knew about the red-headed prince. They had television in America. Didn’t they? The girls he invited to his suite during the last night on the Strip certainly had. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Duke.” She repeated this several times because the tuxedo – Earl of Nottingham, yes that was him, Louis, – couldn’t hear her. Albert let out a cough at the twisted expression on the older man’s face as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. “Young lady,” he began. Albert raised his hand to stem whatever withering tirade would otherwise ensue. These were the types of lecture he grew up; good deportment, paying attention, protocol, blah, blah, blah. “Actually,” Albert interjected. “I believe you’re looking for me.” A pair of deep brown eyes rounded on in him in growing horror. She sized him up, from his hairline to his cufflinks. “You’re too young.” “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” He chuckled at the red flush creeping up her cheeks. “You are.” She closed her eyes in mortification. “Your Highness!” “The only time a guest may enter at whatever time she chooses, is when she’s the guest of honor,” Albert explained to the Earl. “Ms. Sparkle here is receiving recognition for her charity work with children living with AIDS. You might recognize her from her work on – Sport of Kings?” “Game of Royals,” she corrected in a murmur. “Yes, that’s the one.” Albert snapped his fingers. “Haven’t seen it yet,” he said by way of apology. “Didn’t realize these period dramas now had people worth watching.” Despite her clear agitation, Sparkle gave a giggle. She tucked into the steak with that peculiar habit Americans had of holding her fork in the right hand. “Young lady,” the Duke began, aghast that the late arrival would eat before the head of the table. “Enjoy your meal,” Albert said. He shook his head at this peer of the realm, someone Torie had placed here to stymie her brother’s evening. At least the gods sent him this paean of beauty and earnestness. “I usually don’t eat at these things,” Sparkle said, the first bite tucked into the side of her cheek like a chipmunk in order to make conversation possible. “But I’ve been running around all day.” “By all means,” Albert said. He folded his arms on the table, eliciting another round of frowns of disapproval from the Duke. “I know how that is.” This had the opposite effect of warming her up – Sparkle froze with the fork halfway to her mouth. A cello played, unaccompanied, a mournful string of notes competing with the click and clang of cutlery at tables all over the ballroom. “Oh God, I didn’t read the briefing card.” She gulped down the sizeable piece of meat garnished with an orangy cream sauce. “It was in the bottom of my bag and it got wet when –” “Your Highness.” Edward returned, sidestepping the departing waiter with the grace of a dancer. “Your sister wishes to see you.” He said the second part into his ear. “I’m at the table,” Albert hissed back. For the first time in months and months he sat next to someone remotely interesting. How had Torie sniffed it out? He scanned the room for one of her well-intentioned spies. No Thomas around to steady him if the waters got murky. “Most urgent,” Edward whispered. “I’ll have my meal first.” Albert reached for his napkin. “Code jewels.” Albert froze. They hadn’t ever used that word. This was their pact, a word that meant they needed to discuss something big. Something on the level of your-mother-is-dead big. “I’ll be right back,” he said to the downturned head of the woman attacking the mozzarella and tomato accompaniment with vigor. He smiled tersely at everyone else at the table, British enough to know they should stand when a senior royal left the table. She rushed to her feet at the last minute, bumping her water glass. Canadian he mused as they led him out a side door into a private lounge. Hadn’t picked that up in the accent. They walked out of the side exit to the ballroom as the full orchestra filled the room with the sound of popular concertos at least several hundred years old. The cement hallway magnified their steps. As the music faded behind them, Edward passed him an oversize iPad. He led them into a private event room, used for meet and greets with the musicians, with a white baby grand in the center, and a marble topped bar. “Can you get me the show? I’ll watch whatever episodes you can stream to me, on the phone,” Albert called after Edward. “Game of Royals.” His long-time staffer said nothing and pulled the doors closed, sealing him away from the glamour of the evening a few hundred meters away. “In any order,” he added, confident of Edward’s excellent hearing. “Any chance of a drink?” he muttered to himself, eyeing the bar. Albert hoisted himself onto a leather topped stool. The iPad beeped an in-coming call. Torie’s face filled the screen, her brow creased in the middle like a folded bedsheet. “You’re alright.” He let out a whoosh of breath. Then his heart set to racing again. “Granny?” His panicked mind tried to come up with the family agenda. “Thomas?” His panic escalated at the thought that after all this, on the eve of his sister’s engagement, her fiancé might be in peril. No she’s fine. No tears. She’s fine. In searching for relief, flashes of the edges of their mother’s coffin came into focus. Oppressive summer heat as they walked behind her – behind her body – through the streets of London. “We’re all fine,” Torie said in muted tones. The camera focused on her aquiline nose, her blue eyes glittering with something – not grief – an emotion he hadn’t seen before. “Your tie is crooked, Albie.” “I’m in the middle of dinner,” Albert snapped. “Did you really use Mum’s code to correct my attire?” “I didn’t,” she sighed. She swiveled, the camera sweeping across their mother’s desk, the one that they had climbed across as children. Newspapers littered the wide expanse. Albert’s mirror image in the insert fidgeted with his bow tie in the circle in the lower right. “What is it, then? Stop frowning. You’re going to ruin that perfect forehead.” “You’re going to send me to an early grave,” Torie said. She rubbed at her forehead, the lines still tight around her mouth. Their childhood ribbing hadn’t worked to ease the tension. “I’m not going to another event tonight.” His mind churned through the reasons she might have called. “I’m only back from America a few hours and –” “About that.” Albert halted in fidgeting with his tie. “I don’t know what they told you but I kept a low profile as you asked. No paparazzi, hats all the way, no one knew I was there.” “No one besides the girls in your private party.” Torie paced across the room, scanning her camera across a set of glossy shots, spread across the coffee table. They showed a panorama of his suite in the Bellagio; several thousand pounds spent in alcohol and food. A few select party guests. Women. Blondes. “Now just a minute. What I do in the suite stays in the suite.” “Not when your guests share it with the world.” One week, the bags under his sister’s eyes accused. You couldn’t behave for one week? Albert flopped into a brocade covered wingback as the camera steadied on an image of him. Edward wasn’t the only one regretting his week’s vacation. Torie would be furious. Her brother, nude, save for a pair of hands covering his nether region, kneeling on the bed. Head thrown back in mirth. No mistaking who it was. Flaming red hair and all. “Everywhere,” Torie said in the crisp tones of their family. “Twitter. Facebook. Instagram. All the tabloids. Top of the ticker on the 24-hour cycle.” “Cousin Torie!” Sophia’s twins burst into the room behind Torie. His sister scrambled to gather the photos. “Nanny,” Torie called, not quite a shout, ever the lady. “Someone please bring the nanny.” “Cousin Bertie!” Andy’s chin filled the screen with Alice clamoring behind him. “Listen, it’s easy enough to explain,” Albert said, waving to their cousin’s children. “A game of strip billiards. I mean, I lost. You know I’m crap at games.” Torie flashed an image at him. Full length of Albert hugging a woman from behind, her also nude. Thankfully her long hair hid her face. “She’s not great at them either.” Not even a laugh. A woman with a thick waist and heavy-soled shoes came in to take each of the protesting children out, holding their hands. “Come now, let’s see if we can find some biscuits.” “Head home now,” Torie called from off screen. “We’re handling it.” Home? What about Sparkle – the screen went blank in his hands. The silence in the empty sitting room rang in his ears after the commotion of the last few minutes. They were handling it. Albert pulled off his tie in frustration. True to form, Edward opened the double doors at the far end of the room. “This way, sir.” “I’m not leaving,” Albert protested. “I have an award to give out.” “All arranged,” Edward said. He persisted in holding the door open. “The Earl of Nottingham was happy to be of service.” “What, old Louis?” Albert’s voice rose. “For a cinema honor.” He had no one to be mad at but himself. “They wanted someone from the peerage,” Edward said. “The car is here.” “Peerage? They asked for me,” Albert growled. This man had seen him through far worse. From the dark days of his parents’ divorce into the oblivion afterward. “Someone. Anyone.” Edward flicked a hand. “This way sir.” You couldn’t reason with them that you might need to blow off a little steam. Not that there was any way to justify his romp. Those girls assured them they knew how to keep a secret. “A prince! I can’t believe I’m with a real life prince,” they squealed throughout the night, kicking the phrases back and forth like footballs. At the time, their chorus washed over him, like a soundtrack to his life. The spare was exciting enough for some – particularly Americans. He scrolled through the headlines, searching for the worst as a preparatory strategy. Sexy Soldier! Private Prince. Grainy photos, backlit by a floor lamp, him kneeling in rumpled white sheets. Thank God for those hands he thought, a second time, albeit for completely different reasons. The woman who held his genitals left him a shred of dignity. From Sandhurst to this. His grandfather’s ire would be inescapable. Albert recoiled at the questions that awaited him from his family and the paparazzi. He flung the iPad away and stormed out of the room, winding his way through a series of hallways to the back of the Victoria and Albert hall. Edward ushered him into the back seat of a tinted SUV, murmuring, “I’ll follow.”

 

 

 

 

 

Mohana is a writer and scholar of gender, race, and writing. Her work has appeared in academic journals and books. She is the award-winning novelist of Love Comes Later and An Unlikely Goddess, among others. As the host of the Expat Dilemmas podcast, she peppers each show with reflections from a decade of living abroad. She teaches courses on literature, argumentative and creative writing. You can read more her website: www.mohadoha.com.

 

 

Links

 

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Instagram *** Amazon *** Goodreads

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
 
 
Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/08/21/blog-tour-the-princely-papers-by-mohanalakshmi-rajakumar-with-excerpt-and-giveaway
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text 2018-08-21 08:10
Beat the Back to School Blues Entangled Teen Sale


Summer may be winding down and the school year is kicking off soon. Beat those back to school blues with some of these great steals.

15 amazing YA reads on sale for just 99¢ each!

Fantasy, mystery, contemporary, paranormal and more! No matter what you are in the mood for you will find it here.

 
 

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text 2018-08-20 12:35
Blog Tour: Fireweed by M.J. Vieiran with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for MJ Vieira’s Fireweed. We will have info about the book and author, a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :)


Fire cleanses and brings new life

In the far off land of Manji, two tribes live in a strained peace- the magic wielding Manjians and the supernatural Vampires. A delicate balance is kept between the two races who depend on one another for survival. This peace is broken however when the fireweed, or Io as it’s called, a mythical plant, grows once again within the cursed land called the Barron. Named in aprophecy that speaks doom for both races, the beautiful plant causes panic within the Vampire community. But the bigger mystery comes when a prisoner, thought dead, is found to be alive and has escaped into the forbidden lands beyond the Vampire’s border. Prince Jarek is sent to retrieve her, only to find his life set on a new course when the true Io reveals herself as both a worthy adversary and lover. Will the species survive her wrath? How much will the fire cleanse?

Buy Link

Amazon

The field had once been full of life. Vegetation filled the base with leafy greens and was adorned by soft heathers and vibrant yellows. Trees reached for the sky, their tops nearly playing with the clouds that drifted in the atmosphere above. Animals moved in and out of the worn game trails drinking from the nearby stream or feasting on the nutrients the earth gave up. The area was at peace. That was before the war. Before the Cleanse. Before the Royals, the Zheng clashed with the People, the Koa. After the battle, the bodies were left strewn about the field carelessly. The sun rose and they burst into flames. The Vampires’ corpses were consumed by fire, erasing all memory of who they were and who they would be. They burned for days before their ashes were consumed by the ground. No one knew how many spirits lay within the field. But it was no secret the spirits of the warriors who were slain there haunted the ground and contaminated the air. It was said the leader of the Dragons laid a curse on the land, allowing those violent and restless spirits to attack any who dared cross the barren land. Superstitions ran rampant across and kept the Vampires away. Superstitions aside, this was truth: where life once sprang, death now reigned. All that was left of the plants were gnarled, charred roots of the towering trees which now stuck out from the ground like skeletal hands seeking refuge in the light of day. A prophecy lay amongst the memories of the few who managed to live beyond the day the field burned. It is said that nothing would grow on the scarred land until a chosen warrior of the People came forth from the ashes. This time would be signaled by the growth of the Io, a flowering plant that represented fire and rebirth. It was rare and called Fireweed in the common tongue. The Io signaled the cleansing of the psyche, a changing of the times when the head blind Vampires would reclaim their magic and make amends for their genocide. Any unworthy who touched it would be burned and those who came with pure spirits would be healed.

 

MJ Vieira resides in Southern Maine with her husband, Alan, son, AJ, and their St. Bernard, Roxy. As a child, she traveled around the state with her parents, seeing the vast history the New England state had to offer as well as touring the nation while showing her American Quarter Horse. While traveling, she read many of the great authors of the time including JRR Tolkien, Stephen King, CS Lewis and Ann Rice. It is these writers combined with power of music, mainly hard rock and folk, MJ draws her inspiration.

In between writing, MJ enjoys reading, collecting music and attending concerts. Lux is the first installment in the Veritas series which is MJ's first published work.

Links

 
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive content and a giveaway!
 
 
Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/08/20/blog-tour-fireweed-by-m-j-vieiran-with-excerpt-and-giveaway
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text 2018-08-19 12:35
Blog Tour: MisGiving Hearts by J.Haney & S.I. Hayes with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for J.Haney & S.I. Hayes’s MisGiving Hearts. We will have info about the book and author, a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

 

Happy Reading :) 


 

They thought they were safe in their elite little world. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

When Charity Daniels was seventeen she fell in love with Literature, and a man who taught it. Their forbidden love was held back until graduation, until legally she could be his.

Flash forward three years, Charity is studying at Yale and still in love with her Princeton Man.

Quinn (Q) Everett is on scholarship at Yale, and finds himself inexplicably in Charity’s path. He tries to stay away, but his mouthy best friend thinks he knows better. Suddenly it’s lunches and crashing private plans for the duo just to see her.

But their flirtations do not go unseen, and Logan’s love turns and goes from jealousy to murderous intent.

Can these unproven lovers stay the course and avoid the devious plot of a scorn man or will everything crash and burn?

*Trigger warning: Violence **Strong Sexual Situations

 

 

 

 

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**Only .99 cents!!**

 

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3-Charity

LAST NIGHT WAS THE LAST TIME I GO OUT ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I feel like I was run over by a Mack truck. I stayed at Logan’s last night and memories of what happened filtered through my sleep, which left me not sleeping well, and today happens to be one of my longer days. I don’t get out of this place till at least eight. I think, instead of going to see Logan tonight, I’ll call him when I get home and let him know I won’t be over. I don’t have to study as hard as most, but I still do. I walk through the blue light district to get to my class. It’s blue lights set throughout campus. I like having it, especially when I have late classes. I see the gate I need to go through just ahead of me. As I step through, I hear someone say forcefully, “Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm! It is hypocrisy against the devil. They that mean virtuously, and yet do so. The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven!” I drop my Great One, twenty-four ounces of pure black Dunkin’ Donut bliss and my copy of The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. I grab my chest. “Jesus Christ!” I get a glimpse of white flesh through black ink reaching for my items. He stands, towering over me with my book and now empty cup. “Sorry, Q-” He pushes the other guy who’s covered by his hoodie. “-over here was just working on something for his class. Thinks he’s Shakespeare or some shit.” He smiles, looking down at me. “I don’t think she cares, Stryker, let’s go,” Q says, walking off. “How would you know what I do and don’t care about?” He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking. Stryker gives me my stuff before walking off and mumbling something to his buddy. I continue my walk to Multicultural Middle Ages class. I notice the two guys once again as I’m walking in. Somehow, they managed to go around me? This is going to be a long class. I try to pay them little mind as I take a seat and start pulling my things from my bag. The professor walks in and is immediately on alert. “Mister Jordan, you know you’ve got no business in here.” “Come on, Prof, I was thinking about auditing today.” Stryker has just slipped into the desk beside mine. “Stryker, is it?” I ask, and he looks at me with what I’m going to assume is his sexy look. “Pretty sure ya can’t handle this.” “Mister Jordan, it’s time for you to go.” “What? Would you like me to recite in its original Italian?” Stryker asks and proceeds to do just that. “Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, mi ritrovai per una selva oscuro, ché la diritta via era smarrita.” I smile. “Actually, it’s oscura.” “Let it go, Miss,” the professor orders, looking at her book, “Daniels. Even if he’s wrong, he thinks he’s right.” “So, just like any other man,” yells a girl in the back. “One day, we will figure out how to teach them just right, but until that day, we just have to chalk it up to foolishness,” I remark. Stryker looks down at me before reaching into his hoodie and producing a card. “I like you, come to the shop anytime.” I take the card and look at it. It reads Lucky Stryke Tattoo Design and Piercing with the address and phone number. “Thanks.”

After class, I messaged Logan to let him know that I won’t be over tonight, lots of studying to do, then I stopped at Seoul to pick up dinner for myself and Hope. If anyone can help me work through what happened last night, it’ll be her. Korean food is one of her favorites, so I get dinner for both of us along with mochi ice cream. Never show up empty-handed. I knock on Hope’s door and wait for her to answer as I hold the food in front of my face. Hope opens the door and demands, “Bitch, where you been?” I lower the bag. “I brought food.” “Oh? You are a lifesaver.” “Seoul, your fave.” “Awesomesauce.” Hope pushes the door open further and lets me in. I head for the dining room as she walks into the kitchen. “I need talk time, and nobody but you can help me.” “Why? Did you wake up with a strange dick in your mouth?” “Kind of.” She stops in her tracks and looks at me, shock plain on her face. “What the hell do you mean, kind of? I was kidding.” “When I got to Logan’s last night, he sort of bent me over the couch, but we weren’t alone.” “Mmm, tell me it was that guy, Toby? You know I always wanted a piece of him.” Hope is a couple years older, but we went to the same high school, so she knew the teachers, knew the stories. “It was Hank Smiley.” I thump my head against the table. “Oh, honey.” Hope pats me on the back. “What happened? “I’m not sure exactly. I didn’t even know he was there till he shot his load on me.” “Well, look at it this way, better on than in, and it’s good for the skin.” “I’m disgusted. I lied to Logan because I’m not even sure how to look at him, then add in this stupid ring.” “What ring, girl?” Hope questions. I dig the ring from my purse and set it on the table. “He popped the question Saturday.” “Why?” “I don’t know. Because he wanted to?” “So, are you finally moving in? Because if you are, that’s cool, you’ll be closer.” “No, he’s moving to New York or Jersey, and I’m staying here to finish school.” “Why aren’t you just breaking up with him and getting on with it?” “Because I’ve spent almost three years with him, and I love him.” “I’ll never understand why. He’s such a cad.” “He just understands me.” “He understands wet, pink hole, thrust, and repeat.” “I didn’t say that I was okay with him asking me, Hope. I just didn’t want to embarrass him because we were in public. I don’t know what I’m doing, and then there’s whatever last night was. I’m so confused.” “Listen, there’s no point in being ashamed of something you’ve done. I’ll tell ya right now, if it were me and I wasn’t fancying another dude on top of me, I’d have fucked him up right quick. Don’t be afraid to say no.” “I’m still nursing my hangover, so I know I drank way too much. I think he knew it too.” “Then he’s even more of a scumbag than I thought because he took advantage of you, and he let someone else do it too.” “UGH!” I cry out. “Look, I know you love him and all, but he’s really not a good guy. Nobody should make you feel bad for who or what you are. You’re not me, don’t let him make you act like it if you don’t want to. You tell him that last night was a one-time deal. Don’t let him push you. Okay?” “Yeah, okay,” I say defeatedly. “Alright, you want to take this outside? Grab the wine and glasses?” “Gotta have that smoke.” I shake my head. “You can take the wine, I’ll just grab a bottle of water. I still have to drive home.” Hope walks out the back door to her porch while I go to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. By the time I get to the porch, she’s already puffing on her cigarette. “So, how’s school going?” I ask, sitting across from her. “I actually just took the test for LPN, and I’m waiting for my results.” “How do you think you did? You didn’t show your tits this time, did ya?” “A red bra may or may have not been worn under a red blouse, but these things happen.” “You’re hopeless.” “Whatever brings out the grade. We’re not all you.” Before I can say anything, Hope speaks again. “Oh, look at the puppy.” Out runs what I’m pretty sure is an albino pit bull pup with a much bigger one right behind it, which must be the mom. Hope is calling the dogs as she climbs over the rail. “Hope, you’re going to hurt yourself,” I warn as she drops to the ground. Yeah, I’m not jumping, I’d break a bone. “Nonsense, puppies,” Hope says, squatting to pet the dogs. “Nonsense, jump, I’m sure one of us can catch you,” a male voice breaks in. Wait, I know that voice. I stand and walk over to the railing. “Jesus, you again?” I ask as Stryker comes into view. “I’m not the one that followed me home. Hey, Q, little miss Obscura's here.” “I didn’t follow you. I needed to talk to my best friend who happens to live here. Wait, did you just call me obscure?” His buddy walks out in camo pants and denim button up over another shirt. He looks up at me. “If the reference fits. Do you feel we should put a pin between your shoulders and put you on a board somewhere?” “I’d rather you didn’t, I’d never get down. Height problems and all.” “Hmm, shorty got your number,” Stryker quips. Q licks his lips and nods his head before running a hand through his hair. He reaches his hand up to me. “Hey, my name is Quinn, folks around here call me Q.” I put my knees on the porch because I’m not climbing over the railing to fall to my death and take his hand. “I’m Charity and just because I go to Yale doesn’t make me like most of the snobs,” I introduce myself and extricate my hand from his before standing back up and dusting myself off. “I always heard it takes one to know one, and I’ve never known one.” “Hope is the snob in my group. “ “That’s good to know because we don’t associate with assholes.” Hope looks up at me. “Then don’t ask about her boyfriend. Oh, excuse me, fiancé.” I shake my head. “You were just dying to say that, weren’t ya? Can’t even let me decide what the hell I’m doing before you start spreading that news.” Hope stands up and starts dancing and snapping. “Start spreading the news,” she sings. “Hope, we love you, but only if you shut your mouth,” Stryker teases. “Oh, but don’t you know that’s her best asset?” I quip. Quinn reaches down and picks up the puppy. “Walked right into that one, huh?” He gibes before turning to me. “Do you like dogs?” “When they're nice. Never really been around animals. Ma wasn’t okay with them.” “How’s about you come down? She doesn’t bite and neither do I. I promise.” “But who says I don’t?” Shit, stupid filter. “Be down in a minute.”

 

 

 

J. Haney was born and raised in Kentucky, currently residing in Greenup County, Kentucky with her family, where she is the proud mamma to Jessalyn Kristine and co-owner to Proud Momma Designs, which she runs with her amazing Momma. J. Haney’s work tends to lean toward sweet and sexy, with suspenseful undertones giving her readers something to hold onto. It’s what she calls Real Life Romance.

S.I. Hayes was born and bred in New England, currently living in Ohio. Running around Connecticut, she used all of her family and friends as inspiration for her many novels. When not writing Paranormal Drama or Erotic Romance she can be found drawing one of many fabulous book covers or teasers, to see them check out her web site.

The pair met while working for a previous publisher and became fast friends, their split dynamics and views on life, family and love in general led to the idea of A County Fair Romance and A Sex, Drugs and Rock Romance adding to it Working Class Beauties and soon Kincaid Falls. Along with various Standalone novels. So, keep your eyes open and a fresh pair of panties close by, you know just in case.

 

 

Where to find J. Haney

 

 

 

 

Where to find S.I. Hayes

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

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Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/08/19/blog-tour-misgiving-hearts-by-j-haney-s-i-hayes-with-excerpt-and-giveaway
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