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text 2019-03-14 11:05
Blog Tour with Guest Post! Meridian Chronicles: Black Widow Curse & the Coven (Meridian Chronicles #2) M.D. Fryson!

 

 

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 


Hello Readers! It’s Thursday and I am participating in the blog tour for a paranormal romance by M.D. Fryson! Enjoy and don’t forget to add Black Widow Curse & the Coven to your shelves!

 

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Title: MERIDIAN CHRONICLES BLACK WIDOW CURSE & THE COVEN
Author: M.D. Fryson
Publisher: AMF Publishing
Pages: 408
Genre: Paranormal Romance

 

BOOK BLURB:

 


MERIDIAN’S curse has left her in a state all her own of amnesia. She is on Earth lost and afraid with only fragments to piece together her mysterious circumstance. The curse has taken the unimaginable from her, but that is just scratching the surface. The Black Widow curse will reveal itself through the demon’s riddle, the Coven and the Fairy Nymphs.

 

A trip back to Salem is just what the psychic ordered, but treachery lurks with an ex coven member who calls on demons. The demon realm offers more riddles than answers, but a stroke of luck from the high demon court, brings in a sophisticated demon, Lahash who has grown tired of the games.

 

The curse hides Meridian's identity and her memory will unlock the Universal secret of her twin soul to find her way home. As Meridian finds Aiden so do the impacts of her curse and what it could do to their budding relationship.

Meridian’s soul and fate are in the cross hairs, while the odds rise between the demons, witches and the fairies.

 

Finally having found Aiden, the Fairy Queen comes through to send aid to Meridian, but she still doubts herself and contemplates running away from it all. Who is Meridian's twin soul? Will she go back to Etheria or will the curse reign down on Meridian?


Find out in this dark and twisted paranormal romance.

 

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=14&v=-JBhIUwdXgo


 

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38234006-meridian-chronicles

 

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AVAILABLE in print or ebook

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FDB677Q

 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/meridian-chronicles-md-fryson/1127896815;jsessionid=EBD1EC14FF1A7890BFF25262A6DC8416.prodny_store02-atgap01?ean=2940162087151

 


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M.D. Fryson has joined us for today’s post and she’s going to talk about the Meridian Chronicles and the characters! Let’s give her a great big welcome!

 

I am so excited to have you join us today!

 

 


Ever had that moment, where something that has been staring you in the face for a long time that you never noticed, all of a sudden emerges?


Aiden is one of the characters in the story, a human guy who has been raised by his grandparents, doesn’t know who his father was (at least for now) and his mother passed during childbirth. He is the guy that the main character, Meridian, is looking for, but at first doesn’t remember why.


A lot of Aiden’s traits from physical features, personality and nature are inspired by my husband. The love story that exists between Meridian and Aiden has been inspired by my story.


Part of Meridian’s curse is figurative for how I felt about myself at a difficult time in my life. I stopped trusting myself to make decisions about many things in life. Enter my husband. Well when I met him, I thought he was perfect (still do) I literally felt like he deserved better. Like me, Meridian knows that the curse she carries around may hurt him. So, what does she do? Same thing I did shortly after I met my husband (then boyfriend)—run off! Of course in the story, the curse has many more layers, but it is a real test of faith for Meridian to believe in herself and someone else.


Remember that earlier statement? Ever have something hit you in the face that had been there all along? Well one day it hit me, I thought to myself, what are you doing? My then boyfriend, now husband has been there for you off and on for over eight years, no judgement and full of tolerance for me. What was holding me back? Same things that hold Meridian back. Until it hit me in the face.


Just the same for Meridian, Aiden is patient, tolerant and really lets her know how he feels for her, but she is lost and her life has been stolen from her, she is going through a lot of overwhelming things, won’t listen to anyone, doesn’t trust herself to make a decision….(and I can’t say anymore because it would be a spoiler!) But through the series, Meridian has a couple of revelations about herself and who she trusts that brings her through her tragedy.


I know that a lot of people like reading books with happily ever after. I agree, I like those books too. But my first book Meridian Chronicles: Hall of Souls & The Book of the Fairies’ has a cliff hanger. I toned the cliff hanger down in this book ‘Black Widow Curse & The Coven’, but book three when it came back from a beta reader was really taken back with the cliffhanger and she said she cried.


What can I say? I can’t write a story inspired by some things and people in my life without it having a cliff hanger or two…because that isn’t the way of it. My life felt like an endless precession of cliffhangers for a while.


I am nearly finished with the fourth book and final book in the series and it will be a happy ending. Not every situation has a happy ending, it just maybe not happy right now. I hope readers see the message…that even if you get on the wrong track, you can still find your way back again and even in the darkest hour, you can find light if you look and have some faith in yourself!


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I am a wife and mom to three boys. I am an animal lover especially horses that I used to ride, train and show. Someday will do once more!

 

Favorite books are anything astrology, self help, motivation, romance and humor.

I love chocolate, coffee, my family (not in that order), and the beach.

 

I like to garden, hike, jog, swim and travel. My oldest two boys tell me I am weird as they laugh and I’ll take that as a good thing. I am told I am witty and sarcastic and I believe that comes out in my writing.

 

The third installment to this series comes out September, 2019 and I am nearly finished with the last book to the series that comes out in 2020.


 

 

Website Link: www.mdfryson.com

 

Twitter Link: @madelyn_fryson

 

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http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 

 

 

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text 2019-02-25 11:00
Blog Tour Spotlight with Excerpt! Finders Keepers by P.G. Forte!

 

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 


Welcome to Monday, Readers! Today, I am spotlighting Finders Keepers – A scifi ménage romance by P.G. Forte! Enjoy and don’t forget to add Finders Keepers to your shelves!

 

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Title: FINDERS KEEPERS
Author: PG Forte
Publisher: Chapultepec Press
Pages: 150
Genre: SFR/Menage

 

BOOK BLURB:


Sometimes finding what you want is the easy part. 

 

Caleb is a bionic soldier with little-to-no memory of his past. Aldo's an undercover cop who's searching for the man who got away. Then there's Sally, an ER physician who used to be married to Aldo's late partner, Davis. Sally's just looking for a reason to keep on getting up every day. 

 

This holiday season, chance will bring them together and give them an opportunity to help one another find what they each want most. But every gift comes with a price. And keeping what they've found once they've found it? Yeah, that's gonna be the hard part.


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Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42963107-finders-keepers

 

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AVAILABLE in print or ebook

 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07K8K8BKX/

 


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Chapter One


I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.
The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.
I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.
—A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

 

Detective Aldo Nash could almost hear his brain humming as it worked to categorize the myriad scents tingeing the cool night air: cedar and sea spray, dry asphalt, cooling car engine, and most potent of all, the warm, aroused flesh of the man Aldo had pinned beneath him.


Aldo slid practiced hands over the slim, partially clad form, and the man moaned softly in response, his whole body writhing instinctively closer as he arched into Aldo’s touch. Aldo pulled in another heady lungful and smiled in contentment. On nights like these, he purely loved his job.


He couldn’t say working undercover for the Oakland PD had exactly been a lifelong dream, but Aldo’s brief stint in the army had left him uniquely qualified for it all the same, and largely unqualified for anything else. When the USA was formally dissolved following the economic collapse of the 2020s and what was left of the military was fully privatized, the idea of patriotism lost its meaning. Losing Kyle on top of that had left Aldo with no clear idea of what he wanted to do with his life.


After giving college a try, Aldo had signed up for the police academy on a whim. Unexpectedly, he found his niche. Now he derived a lot of satisfaction from knowing he was helping to prevent future crimes from happening, rather than hoping to solve those that had already occurred. He got to be proactive, stay one step ahead of the bad guys rather than the other way around. But the bottom line was proficiency. He was damned good at what he did.


Not to take away from any natural ability to dissemble he might have inherited from his late actress mother, but most of his success was due, in no small part, to all the experimental drugs he’d been given by the military. His consciousness had been purposely and methodically expanded, and his brain reconfigured to the point where he could easily exert control over his brain waves and sympathetic nervous system.


In a world where just about every criminal, from the capo dei capi of large, multinational drug cartels to the lowliest of hood-grown thugs, had their own psi-ops tech on speed dial, that kind of advantage was a definite point in Aldo’s favor. No matter how skillful said techs might be at worming their way into other people’s minds and tunneling through their thoughts, with him they could only read what he wanted them to read.


Of course, there were also things about his job he didn’t like. The hours were murder since, apparently, crime rarely slept and when it did, its schedule was crap. The regular debriefings with their in-no-way-optional mind-scrubs were a major headache. Literally. Worst of all, the company he was forced to keep generally sucked, and not in that good kind of way.


That wasn’t the case at the moment, however. No, when it came to his present company, Aldo had absolutely no cause for complaint. Tonight’s operation had him working in tandem with a new partner, an agent on temporary loan from some alphabet agency; Aldo wasn’t sure which one. He hadn’t asked. He didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter. They were all pretty much the same, and the agent would be gone soon either way. Unless Aldo had missed his guess—a possibility he considered most unlikely—his new partner had been chosen for this assignment based solely on his looks. And Aldo was certainly not unhappy with those either.


He had no idea how much of the other man’s appearance was due to surgical alteration or chemical enhancement, but that was something else he sure as hell didn’t care about. Hot was hot, and Special Agent Caleb Mitchell was just about the hottest thing Aldo had seen in a good long while.


Standing at a hair under six feet, Caleb was just a couple of inches shorter than Aldo. He had fair hair, full lips, broad shoulders atop a dancer’s slim build, and everything about him, from his features to his proportions, was a little too perfect to be real. If the man had a flaw anywhere, Aldo had yet to find it, and not for any lack of searching. Even though they were both pushing forty, only Aldo looked his age. Special Agent Mitchell had obviously been the recent recipient of some highly classified and no doubt heavily restricted cell de-aging therapy, giving him the appearance of a man a good two decades younger than his current chronological age, the lucky bastard.


On second thought, maybe it was Aldo who’d lucked out; he got to look at the bastard, after all.


It was the case the two men were working that had brought them here tonight, to this exclusive private club located high in the Oakland Hills. Aldo’s role in Operation Midas—the elaborate sting the department was running—was to attempt to infiltrate a notorious local group of wealthy, degenerate scumbags. His appearance at tonight’s function, and the apparent arrest that—if everything went as planned—would shortly follow, was supposed to give him the “street cred” he needed in order to gain the scumbags’ trust and acceptance. Disguised as yet another degenerate wannabe, Aldo had done his best all evening to ingratiate himself with the crew. Agent Mitchell, by virtue of his rent boy looks, had been picked to play the part of Aldo’s paid escort or, as Aldo had jokingly told him, to do as he was told and look pretty doing it. He was playing his part very well, in Aldo’s considered opinion, particularly at the moment.


Another gust of air blew across the parking lot. The body stretched beneath Aldo’s shivered, but was it in response to the sudden chill or to the press of Aldo’s fingers that had just breached his opening? Aldo leaned in closer, partially in an attempt to shield Caleb from the cool, night air, partially for the pleasure of pressing himself more firmly against that delectable flesh. “Whattsa matter, darling?” he whispered playfully in the other man’s ear. “Cold?”


Caleb—bent over the hood of the shiny-new Mercedes Aldo had requisitioned for tonight’s operation—glanced up at him and scowled. “Fuck you, Nash. Skip the chitchat, all right? Let’s just get this over with.” Up until that moment, Aldo had found Caleb’s permanently raspy voice a big turn-on, but there was nothing sexy about that angry tone, the gritted teeth, the fury blazing in those jade-green eyes.


Aldo straightened immediately, his fingers slipping free of the other man’s body as he pulled away from him. “What’s your problem all of a sudden? Why you wanna act like such a prick?”


“Gee, I can’t imagine.” Caleb pushed away from the car and busied himself with his clothes, a rented tux of markedly poorer quality than the one Nash wore. He tugged his shirt and pants back into place, then bent to retrieve his jacket.


“That’s it?” Aldo prodded. “That’s all you got to say?”


Caleb shrugged. “Well, it couldn’t possibly have been anything you were doing, right?” He shoved his arms into the jacket’s sleeves before turning to face Aldo. “Look, don’t worry your pretty little head about it, darling. I’m sure your technique gets you rave reviews. You’re probably very popular with all the other boys.”


“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”


“What it means, Detective, is that while I have no problem helping your ass get arrested, I didn’t know you’d be looking to take things so far.

It’s not my thing. It’s not what I signed up for.”


An ice-cold shower couldn’t have cooled Aldo’s blood any more effectively—or any more quickly either. Screwing the other man in the middle of a parking lot hadn’t been his idea. Well, not entirely his idea. But it was exactly the kind of thing the character he was attempting to portray would have done, and a damn good way to ensure his arrest. Besides, they’d both agreed to it, hadn’t they? Or maybe not. Caleb had been noticeably reticent during the meeting when the plan had been hatched. He’d been reticent during both their meetings. Aldo figured that was just his way. Now, as he frowned back at Caleb, niggling doubts began to displace his complacency. “Bullshit. This is exactly what we discussed. And besides, you…” A brief pause. A deep breath. A cold, hollow feeling in his gut. Fuck. He couldn’t have misread those heated, heartfelt moans…could he? “You were just as much into it as I was.”


“Yeah, okay, Romeo. You keep telling yourself that. Just remember, though, none of this was my idea.”


A hot blush scalded Aldo’s cheeks. “If you really hadn’t wanted it, you should have said something,” he insisted, striving to keep his voice cool.


Caleb quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought I just did?”


“I meant sooner.”


“What, and spoil all the fun you were having? We wouldn’t have wanted that, would we?”


“Care to elaborate on that?”


“Not particularly, no.” Caleb shrugged. “Anyway, I figured you already knew I wasn’t interested.”


“Are you fucking insane?” Aldo glared at him. “You think I knew and…and what? What the hell were you thinking? You think I’d do that kind of thing for…for fun?”


Caleb blinked. His expression was one of guileless innocence that had to be fake. “Well, sure. Isn’t that kind of the point? Correct me if I’m wrong, Detective, but isn’t that how guys like you get off?”


Nash’s jaw clenched. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Agent Mitchell? What kind of guy am I?”


“Well, I meant gay. But you can take it any way you want. How should I know what kind of kinky shit you’re into?”


“Gay? Meaning you’re not?” A sardonic smile lifted Aldo’s lips. “Now, why am I finding that hard to believe?” He could still recall the feel of the other man’s cock in his hand—stiff, throbbing, dribbling precum. There was no way Aldo had imagined that response. Not gay, my ass.


Caleb shrugged indifferently. “Beats the shit outta me. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably unresolved issues from your childhood. Or maybe you just hate having to admit you’re wrong.” Caleb cupped his junk and stroked provocatively over the hard bulge at his groin. It was all Aldo could do to suppress a shiver of need as his gaze tracked the motion. “The way I see it, I already got one dick. It’s right here, see? Conveniently placed and fully functional. So why would I have any need of yours?”


Aldo opened his mouth, ready to point out that Caleb was still hard from what Aldo had been doing to him, but before he got a single word out, Caleb’s expression abruptly changed. Moving swiftly, he grabbed Aldo by the open sides of his shirtfront and yanked him close. “Incoming at two o’clock,” Caleb whispered urgently. “We’re about to get company, and I don’t want to have to do this more than once, so let’s make it look good.” Then he sealed Aldo’s mouth in a passionate-seeming kiss.


Aldo stiffened under Caleb’s assault. What the fuck was the idiot doing now? For the space of two, maybe three heartbeats, Aldo froze, unable to even process what was happening. Then he kissed Caleb back, curving one hand possessively around the back of Caleb’s neck while his other hand made itself at home at Caleb’s waist. The crazy son of a bitch had him tied up in knots. His taste, his kiss, even the sounds he made, they were all so delicious, so familiar, so eerily reminiscent of Kyle. Even the scar that slanted across his midsection did so in exactly the same way as Kyle’s…


Aldo had been with Kyle the night he’d received the wound that made it. He could still recall the helpless panic that had risen inside him as he pressed his hands to Kyle’s abdomen, providing pressure, holding the edges of the torn flesh together as best he could while Kyle’s blood welled between his fingers and his breath stuttered in and out unevenly.


“Don’t die,” Aldo had begged over and over while they waited for help to arrive. “Don’t you fucking do it, Kyle. You hear me? Please…” All the while holding his gaze, not daring to look away, as though by keeping Kyle’s focus he could somehow force him not to lose consciousness, not to leave him…


Aldo’s thumb rubbed back and forth with an increasingly urgent motion, absently caressing the scar. Caleb shuddered again. A thick, needy whimper left his throat. His heart was pounding so hard even Aldo could feel it. When he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, Caleb followed his lead automatically, tilting his own head in the opposite direction, opening his mouth wider, inviting Aldo’s tongue in to plunder at will.


Yes. God, yes. Don’t stop.


Footsteps echoed on the wet pavement. The soft murmur of laughter forced itself into Aldo’s awareness. He tracked the sounds through the glistening fog with a growing sense of desperation. Closer… Closer… Slow the fuck down, goddamn it! The sooner they got here, the sooner they’d leave. The sooner this kiss would end. Aldo couldn’t stand for that to happen—not yet. He didn’t want this moment to ever be over. But the steady pace of the footsteps continued. Aldo heard a muffled gasp, a shuffling something that could have been a nudge, an answering grunt, then the footsteps sped up and hurried away, growing fainter and fainter until the sound had melted into the ambient distant noises. Car doors slammed. An engine started. Aldo groaned inwardly. Mission accomplished, goddamn it.


Caleb took a deep breath and pushed Aldo away. “And we’re done.”


Aldo’s heart beat savagely. He grabbed Caleb’s wrist and tugged him back against him. “The hell we are.”


Caleb’s hands tightened into fists. “Nash,” he snarled in warning. “Let me go. I will deck you if you don’t take your hands off me, and I mean right the fuck now.”


“Not so fast. That scar on your stomach, how’d you get it?” As he spoke, Aldo pulled Caleb’s shirt out of the way and held it there, exposing the other man’s chest and stomach to his sight. On closer inspection, Caleb’s scar wasn’t exactly identical to Kyle’s, but it was close enough that fifteen years and a few additional surgeries could easily account for the difference. Aldo stared at the wrecked flesh, unable to look away, remembering that long-ago fear. I nearly lost you! But he had lost Kyle, hadn’t he? Maybe not that day, but in the end Aldo had lost him just the same.


“Screw you,” Caleb growled as he yanked his arm free of Aldo’s grip. “It’s none of your fucking business how I got it. Now get off me.”


“Tell me, please. I need to know.”


Caleb’s mouth tightened. An angry flush colored his cheeks as he dropped his gaze and looked away, mumbling, “I don’t know, all right? It’s not important.”


“What do you mean you don’t know?”


“Did I fucking stutter? I can’t remember. Jeez.” Shoulders hunched against the cold, Caleb tugged his shirt closed and began to button it. “Give it up already. Get a life.”


“How can you not remember?” Aldo waved his hand impatiently, gesturing at Caleb’s midsection. “You’d have to have been nearly gutted to end up with a mark like that.” He knew that for a fact.


“Yep. Very likely.” Caleb shrugged. “But what can I tell you? Another day, another mind-scrub. Know what I mean? You’d be surprised how much you can forget if you try—or, hell, even if you don’t try.”


“What?” Aldo’s eyes widened in shock. A feeling of sick terror chilled him to the bone. “But that… Mind-scrubs? No. That can’t be right.” That wasn’t possible, was it?


“What’s the matter, Nash? No, wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess. You were hoping to make a lasting impression on me, weren’t you? Didja think maybe I’d be so blown away by your mad sex skills I’d change my mind and decide I wanted to come play for your team instead? Sorry to disappoint you.”


Anger flared. “You are such a fucking ass. What’s your deal? Are you always like this? Or is this just part of some act?”


Something about Aldo’s frustration must have amused Caleb. He chuckled softly as he finished tucking his clothes back into place. “You know, Nash, I think it’s real cute how fixated ya are on my ass.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”


Once again, with no other warning, Caleb pressed close. “No need for that, is there?” he murmured, distracting Aldo with a kiss, hands fumbling at Aldo’s belt. “Especially not tonight. That’s what I have you for.”


“Fucking asshole,” Aldo groaned. The shuddering sigh that left his lips sounded a whole lot like surrender, but he just couldn’t work up a reason to care. Kyle, Caleb, whoever the fuck this was, was driving him nuts. “You make me crazy. You know that, right? I can’t for the life of me figure you out.”

 

 

CALEB SMILED. YEAH. He knew. And right now he was counting on it. His mechanically enhanced hearing had easily picked up the crunch of car tires heading up the hill, the crackle of static from the police radios. It was showtime.


The detective’s cock was still at half-mast when Caleb pulled it free of his pants. Working it back up to fully loaded and ready to pop was sinfully easy. Just a few quick strokes were all that was needed. Nash’s cock pulsed and swelled in Caleb’s hand as if it had been trained to it.


The fog around them had lit up like a Christmas tree by the time Caleb broke away, ending the kiss. Somewhere in the mist, car doors slammed. Nash hardly even seemed to notice that his ride had arrived. He stared fixedly at Caleb with inscrutable eyes. There was the faintest hint of a tremor in his voice as he asked, “Who are you really?”


“No one in particular,” Caleb answered as he grabbed one end of the detective’s white silk scarf and pulled it free. “For right now, why don’t you just think of me as a ghost?”


“A-a ghost?” Nash’s face went white. “Wh-what do you mean?”


“Shhh.” Caleb laid a finger to his lips and faded silently back between the fog-enshrouded trees. “Not now.”


“Wait. Where are you going?” Nash, his hand outstretched, took a single step forward. Then he froze as the searchlights found him.


“Hands on your head,” one of the officers barked, directing his order at Nash. “And turn around slowly.”


Through the heavy mist, Caleb could just make out the shocked and mortified expression on Nash’s face. When his gaze dropped to his exposed crotch, Caleb knew he was debating the wisdom of ignoring the officer’s order long enough to zip up his fly. The soft but unmistakable sound of guns being readied put an end to that. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered in disgust. “You son of a bitch. You set me up.”


Caleb smiled. That he had. It was a cruel trick perhaps, but effective. He had no doubt it would accomplish its intended purpose of keeping both Nash and the boys in blue occupied long enough for Caleb to make his escape. By the time anyone thought to look for him, he’d be long gone, just a whisper in the wind.


Turning up his jacket collar against the cold, Caleb slipped quietly away. He’d always thought of California as being warm, balmy, even in winter. This was a helluva time to figure out that he, and perhaps most of the world, had been misinformed. He wrapped his borrowed scarf more snugly around his neck, ignoring the tendrils of heat that coiled inside him when the unmistakable scent of its owner reached his nose. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and focused on the long walk that lay ahead of him. He was not looking forward to it.


A three-mile trek through the frosty woods wearing dress shoes, thin socks, and no coat, hat, or gloves was not his idea of a fun time. Even handcuffed, the short ride in a heated squad car, followed by a couple of hours in a cozy jail cell sounded a damn sight more comfortable. Agency protocols were crystal clear, however, and Caleb was under standing orders that left him with no other choice. The hardware in his head was considerably more valuable to the powers that be than he himself was. It was also highly classified. Under no circumstances, other than a verified medical emergency, was he to allow himself to be taken into custody or consent to having his head scanned by anyone other than agency personnel.


The fog increased as Caleb headed downhill. There was a brisk wind blowing in from the bay, and it was carrying the fog along with it. Caleb was forced to go slow and watch his step. His built-in navigational system might ensure he didn’t wander too far off track or get lost in the woods, but it was of no use whatsoever against a loose rock, an exposed root, or a careless footfall. A sprained ankle would only make tonight’s journey that much more unpleasant.


A car passed by unseen on the mist-enshrouded road. Probably Nash on his way to the station. A satisfied smirk curled Caleb’s lips, but only for an instant, and then the memories came, bringing a wave of frustrated need. Nash’s fingers inside him, twisting and thrusting until he was weak in the knees. Nash leaning over him from behind, hot skin branding Caleb’s back. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hand on Caleb’s cock…


Getting fucked in the parking lot of an exclusive resort by a man he didn’t even like—how could Caleb have ever thought that was a good idea? Maybe he really did need to get his head examined, just like that pretty doctor he’d been crushing on kept suggesting. Why the fuck hadn’t he spoken up sooner? Not tonight—he was pretty sure that would have just been a good way to lose face—but way back when the operation was still in the planning stages, back when any sensible man would have demurred without having to worry about what anyone would think. Why hadn’t he spoken up then?


They could have worked out something else. Lewd conduct with an apparent minor might have seemed like a sure thing, but drunk and disorderly would have done the job as well, wouldn’t it? Plus, a drunken fistfight would have been a hell of a lot more entertaining and just as easy to fake as their little parking lot tryst. Or not fake, if it came right down to it. Even now Caleb’s knuckles practically itched at the thought, at the opportunity to have landed a punch or two along that handsome jaw. It would not have been unwelcome. It still wouldn’t be. If Nash’s expression, when last Caleb saw him, was anything to go by, he probably felt the same.


Despite everything Caleb had said or implied, everything he’d wanted Nash to believe, the idea that he could be attracted to another man wasn’t a total surprise. Caleb wasn’t altogether certain what his original orientation had been. Maybe it had been fairly fluid from the start; it sure as hell was now. But that didn’t strike him as anything strange. It just made sense, didn’t it? The world was more than black-and-white, and he saw no reason to assume sexuality was any different. There had to be more to it than gay or not gay.


What did surprise him, however, was the idea he could be attracted to Nash.


Why him? From day one the arrogant asshole had done nothing but piss Caleb off. So self-righteous. So overconfident. So goddamned sure of himself. Since when had Caleb ever found that sexy? It must be nice, Caleb reflected with more than a little bitterness, to be so sure of yourself, so certain about who you were, how you felt, what you liked—who you liked. Caleb couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way. Thanks to the neural interfaces in his head, his sense of self was largely rewritten with each new assignment. Maybe he’d never felt that way. Maybe he never would.


But none of that mattered tonight. None of it explained why he’d reacted to Nash the way he had, falling apart at his touch as if he’d been waiting years for the chance to do just that.


It had to be more than just looks, not that there was anything wrong with those. Nash was big, broad, buff—everything Caleb found appealing, including the neatly trimmed beard and mustache and the smoothly shaved head. But shouldn’t his personality flaws have overridden all of that? Sure, he looked like someone you could count on, someone likely to be strong and dependable, but somehow Caleb couldn’t believe that was the case. Look at tonight, for example. Tonight the stupid prick had even managed to turn what was supposed to have been a rather routine job into some kind of bizarre pissing contest.


No. That wasn’t quite right either, was it? It was Caleb who’d done that. Unnerved by his body’s reaction, he’d let instinct override common sense. He’d pulled out all the stops in an effort to find a way under the detective’s skin and piss him off good. Here at the end of the night, though, the joke was on Caleb. He was the one walking home. He was the one still sporting wood.


Caleb slowed to a stop. At least he could do something about one of those factors. He paused to assess the environment. There was no one around. The road was deserted, the nearest houses were out of sight, and it was far too cold for anyone else to be out in the woods tonight. There was nothing around but trees, nothing but wood and more wood. Perfect.


Sighing in surrender, Caleb leaned back against the trunk of a large cedar. He widened his stance and quickly unzipped his dress pants. Just a few strokes—that’s all it would take. Just a couple of minutes to relieve the tension, to ease the ache in his balls, to get that son of a bitch Nash out of his head and make the rest of his trek a little more bearable.

His hand felt cold as he wrapped his fingers around his dick. He brushed his thumb over the head, but there was not enough moisture to slick his way. For an instant he contemplated using spit, but it was just too cold.


Caleb pulled at his dick, quickly settling into a brisk, efficient rhythm. As he did, he cast around in his mind for a hot fantasy. Anything to take his mind off the chill. He wasn’t feeling particular. Pretty much anything would do—a woman, two women, a freaking orgy. Instead the vision his mind served up was nothing like what he’d been expecting.


“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned aloud as the image took hold, gathering strength, firing his imagination, becoming the very thing he needed, the only thing that was ever going to get him off tonight. He was so. Damned. Screwed.


Aldo Nash knelt on the ground between Caleb’s feet. His fingers were splayed wide. His big hands clasped Caleb’s hips. Bright sunlight spilled around them, and heat seemed to shimmer in the air. The landscape was beige, the air acrid and so very dry…


Caleb could practically taste the dust on his tongue. He imagined gripping Nash’s head to hold him in place. The warm, stubbled texture of that almost bare skull would tickle against his palms as he fucked into that hot mouth. Alone in the woods, Caleb lifted his hand to his face and spit on his palm. He stifled a gasp as he closed his fist on his shaft once more. Closing his eyes, he imagined it was Nash’s mouth—cool and wet now, as though he’d just paused to sip a cold beer. Swallowing him down. Pulling off with a twist of his lips, a flick of his tongue. Going deep again.


Caleb slid his free hand under his shirt. Palm flat, he let it coast along his abs. Let it travel slowly up to his chest. It wasn’t hard to pretend it was someone else’s hand stroking him like that, someone with strong fingers and a sure, confident touch. Caleb arched off the tree as he gave himself up to the sharp pleasure of fingers pinching and plucking his nipples. He thrust his hips faster, barely even aware anymore of the cold night air. So close now. Yes, God yes. He was so fucking close.


As he continued to stroke himself, Caleb let go, allowing the fantasy to spin itself out…


* * * *


He dropped his head back against the sun-warmed stone wall, felt the heat of it radiating through his T-shirt. Sweat prickled at his hairline. All at once Nash pulled off and sat back on his heels. White teeth flashed in his sun-bronzed face as he grinned up at Caleb.


“Al. Fuck, man, what’re you doing? Don’t stop now.”


Swollen red lips stretched wider. “Tell me.”


Nash’s face looked different. His lips looked softer, fuller, without the door-knocker beard surrounding them. His face looked softer too. Rounder. Gentler. Younger maybe? Caleb shook his head. “Fuck you, man.”


“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Nash leaned in and ran his tongue up the underside of Caleb’s shaft, then pulled back again. Caleb reached for him, but Nash knocked his hands away and sat back again. “Nope. Not happening. That’s all you get until you tell me what I want to hear.”


Caleb’s heart pounded. The muscles of his thighs and butt tensed and released, tensed again. So close. So, so close. “Fucking cock-tease.”


“Yeah, but you love me for it.”


Caleb groaned again. He punched the stone wall behind him until his fists felt bruised. His cock was achingly stiff, but he wouldn’t touch himself. Rules of the game. There was no way he’d give Nash that satisfaction.


Without taking his eyes from Caleb’s face, Nash groped on the ground till he found the beer he’d been drinking earlier. He brought the bottle back to his mouth again, but he didn’t take a drink. Not right away. First he teased the opening, licking, circling, spearing the hole with his tongue. When his lips finally closed around the thick rim, Caleb’s eyes nearly crossed.

Nash turned his head slightly to one side, still holding Caleb’s gaze. He lifted his chin, giving Caleb a clear view of his throat as he drank deeply, swallowing gulp after gulp. Caleb’s knees went weak as he watched Nash’s throat work, watched his Adam’s apple bob, imagined what it would feel like, those muscles massaging his cock…


“Fuck. You win, okay? I need it. Now.”


Nash lowered the bottle. His eyes gleamed warmly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A triumphant smile curved his lips. “I don’t think I heard that correctly. Need what?”


“I need your mouth on my dick; what do you think?”


Still smiling, although not as widely now, Nash shook his head. “And you think that’s the way to get it? Sorry, but no.”


“C’mon, man, what more do you want?”


“You know. But hey, take your time. I’m in no hurry. I’m fine where I am. I can stay here all day if I have to.”


Privately Caleb doubted that was the case. The ground was too hot, too rocky, too hard on the knees. Nash had to be feeling it by now. But he was a stubborn shit. Caleb couldn’t help but admire him for that. He groaned again and chuckled weakly. “Bastard. It’s you. All right? I need you. Only you.”


“You got that right, darling. And don’t you forget it. Now, come to papa.”


Nash leaned in, ready to take Caleb in his mouth again, but suddenly that was no longer what Caleb wanted. Reaching down, he hauled the other man to his feet, then spun around to pin Nash to the wall.


Nash melted against him, going suddenly boneless in Caleb’s embrace. His arms snaked around Caleb and held him close, damp skin to damp skin. It should have been uncomfortable, but Caleb reveled in it. Their lips met in a hungry kiss at about the same time Caleb succeeded in finally freeing Nash’s erection. Just like tonight, it sprung to attention in Caleb’s hand with hardly any coaxing. He fisted both their cocks together and began to stroke with a fast, urgent rhythm. “Now who’s the papa?” he muttered against Nash’s lips.


“You are,” Nash gasped as he tore his mouth away from Caleb’s. “Always. That’s why I…” He broke off, struggling for breath. “Oh God, Kay, stop a minute.”


Nash’s arms went lax. He pulled back just far enough for their gazes to lock. The look in his eyes was too turbulent, too intent, too rife with meaning. Caleb’s hand faltered and fell still.


Nash swallowed hard. “Look, I don’t care how many girls you wanna get with, okay? Fuck ’em all, if you have to. Get it out of your system. Just—”


“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb ordered. He pushed forward and slanted his mouth over Nash’s again. “Just stop talking.” He closed his eyes and kissed Nash. Hard. Bruisingly hard. Anything to shut him up. Anything to make him stop looking at Caleb that way. “Besides, it isn’t… It’s never been… That’s not it, okay?” It had never been about getting it out of his system. That was never going to happen. It didn’t matter how much either of them might want it; Caleb couldn’t change who he was any more than Aldo could. “Why don’t you get that?”


“Whatever,” Nash growled as his arms tightened around Caleb once again. “Just remember one thing, asshole: you’re mine.”


You’re mine. Two words that tripped Caleb’s switch, lit his fuse, and sent him hurtling over the edge. “Right back atcha, babe,” he murmured incoherently as he resumed his task, stroking them both into oblivion. In no time at all, his muscles seized and his balls drew up and white light flashed behind his eyes. He came hard. So hard he took Nash with him. They groaned as one, their faces buried in each other’s necks, their spurting cocks bathing them both with sticky seed…


* * * *


Warm liquid splashing over Caleb’s ice-cold fingers pulled him back to reality. He opened his eyes, still struggling to pull air into his lungs. In the wake of the strangest damn fantasy he’d ever had, he felt dizzy and drained and…what the fuck was that about anyway? He shivered with a sudden chill as the wind knifed through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin was sweaty and damp. The smell of his spunk was strong in the cold night air. And the sense of urgency was almost overwhelming. He had to escape, had to get away right the fuck now, back to town, back to civilization, back to something approaching normal. STAT.


He cleaned his hands off as best he could, but they were still a little sticky and they still trembled faintly as he pulled his clothes together. He turned up his collar, shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, and headed downhill. If tonight had been a contest, it wasn’t hard to decide which of them had won.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



PG Forte inhabits a world only slightly less strange than the ones she creates. Filled with serendipity, coincidence, love at first sight and dreams come true.

She wrote her first serialized story when she was still in her teens. The sexy, ongoing adventure tales were very popular at her oh-so-proper, all girls, Catholic High School, where they helped to liven up otherwise dull classes...even if her teachers didn't always think so.

 

Originally a Jersey girl, PG now resides with her family on the extreme left coast where she writes contemporary and paranormal romance in a variety of sub-genres.

 

PG loves hearing from readers. She can be reached directly

at: pgforte@pgforte.com

 

 

 

Website Address: www.PGForte.com

 

Twitter Address: https://twitter.com/PGForte

 

Facebook Address: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorPGForte/

 

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http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 

 

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text 2018-12-18 11:10
Blog Tour with Excerpt! The Magical Christmas Do Over by Linda West!

 

 

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 


Today, we are going to explore the new holiday release from Linda West, The Magical Christmas Do Over! Enjoy!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


ABOUT THE BOOK

 

Title: THE MAGICAL CHRISTMAS DO OVER
Author: Linda West
Publisher: Morningmayan Publishing
Pages: 320
Genre: Holiday

 

 

BOOK BLURB:


Three women, thrown together by fate, get a second chance to go back in time and change their lives forever.

 

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Book Trailer - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmVp4PCCwj8

 


Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42660578-the-magical-christmas-do-over

 

BookBub - https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-magical-christmas-do-over-an-adorable-second-chance-romance-novel-that-will-leave-you-laughing-crying-and-clapping-by-linda-west

 

Riffle - https://www.rifflebooks.com/books/1030675

 

Romance.io - https://www.romance.io/books/5bea91df01dbc864fb944f12/the-magical-christmas-do-over-an-adorable-second-chance-romance-novel-that-will-leave-you-laughing-crying-and-clapping-linda-west

 


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AVAILABLE in print or ebook

 

Amazon - http://tinyurl.com/MagicalDo-Over

 


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It was a cold December eve, some say the coldest in decades, and a blizzard warning was in effect. It was the Friday before Christmas and most of the other workers of Kennedy and Crane had already left for the Christmas holiday weekend.


Samantha looked at the clock and groaned inwardly. It was after 8 o’clock and her boss was in an extra foul mood even for her.

“Shouldn’t you be getting home to put on that awesome Chanel dress you bought for the big night?” She asked.

Macy spun around enraged, and Samantha sunk back.


Macy’s dark brows knit together and her brown eyes looked nearly black with the size of her pupils. She ran her hands through her short dark hair and then stared at Samantha with disbelief on her face.


“I got a text from Todd an hour ago. He’s gone off to LA with some friends for Christmas!”


Samantha’s mouth fell open. “What, why?” She stopped herself. “I’m sure he has a good reason Macy.”


Macy snorted. “Yeah, good reasons usually don’t come in a text. I’m losing him Sam.”


Macy plopped down in her chair and stared out the large picture window of her sleek office, and tapped her long manicured nails on her desk like a woodpecker.


“Says he’ll call me when he gets back…in a month.”


Samantha’s groaned inwardly. Poor Macy, it looked like she was getting the ultimate big let down. Broken up with at Christmas. No engagement celebration after all.

“Here’s a piece of mail you didn’t get.” Sam offered up happily as she placed it on Macy’s desk.

“Send it back.” Macy said dully without turning.

Samantha continued hopefully. “It’s not the annual Christmas invite from your mother Macy, that one is always in a red envelope. I always send that back. This is something different.”


Samantha looked at the pretty Tiffany blue colored envelope.


“It’s addressed to you personally, not the company.”


Macy cocked her head to the side intrigued.


Sam rushed on eager to bring some sort of happiness to her boss. “Maybe it’s a love letter from Todd with two tickets to Paris for when he gets back?”


Macy let out a big huff and gazed out the window at the oncoming storm. They both knew that wasn’t the case. Todd’s last minute text was just a breakup in disguise.


But if not Todd then who? Macy really didn’t have any close friends that would send her a Christmas card. Anyone that did know her at all, knew she abhorred Christmas. Too much money being spent in the name of sentimentality and tricky marketers as her father always said.

Macy waved her hand without looking back at Samantha as if she were a servant.
“Read it.”
Samantha scanned the letter, then suddenly, caught her breath and brought her hand to her heart.


“Macy.”


Something in Samantha’s tone made Macy spin her chair around.


“What?”


“Its from a friend of your mothers, a Ms. Carol Landers.”


“You have got to be kidding me!” Macy threw her hands up in the air.


Now my mother is having her friends beg me to come home and visit her? How utterly selfish!”


She shook her head in disbelief. “What is it with my mother? She ruins my life and then she stalks me! Can’t she see no matter how many times she begs me to come home for Christmas - I’m not going to Kissing Bridge to see her?”


Samantha swallowed uncomfortably and croaked out, “I’m so sorry Macy. But this letter says that your mother passed away yesterday, and you’re the only relative left to claim her body.”


She looked up sadly and met Macy’s stunned eyes.


“You have to go home to Kissing Bridge.”


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Linda West is an Amazon best seller and author of the best selling series ‘Christmas Kisses and Cookies.’ She writes books that feature food and fun and includes her own recipes from her quaint beach café in Malibu.

 


Website - http://www.morningmayan.com/

 

Twitter - https://twitter.com/Morningmayan

 

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/morningmayan

 


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http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 

 

Thanks for visiting & I hope you enjoyed the post and have added a new treasure to your shelves!

 

 

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text 2018-12-14 11:00
Blog Tour with Excerpt! Bargaining with the Billionaire Bodyguard (Secret Sentinels #4) Lisa Weaver!

 

 

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 

 

Hello, Readers! I’m glad you are here with me today as we visit with Lisa Weaver to learn about her newest romantic suspense – the fourth book in the Secret Sentinels series – Bargaining with the Billionaire!

 

WELCOME LISA!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


ABOUT THE BOOK

 

Title: BARGAINING WITH THE MILLIONAIRE BODYGUARD
Author: Lisa Weaver
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 244
Genre: Romantic Suspense

 

 

BOOK BLURB:

 

Having miraculously survived the bombing that blasted his private jet out of the sky, billionaire Donovan White has dedicated his life to the pursuit of justice. Now a covert operative for the Sentinels Agency, he is closing in on the man responsible for the crash. When his mission is nearly botched by a spunky reporter with a score of her own to settle, he reluctantly strikes a bargain with the one woman who just might be capable of decimating his love proof armor.

 

Reporter Madison Tremaine will do anything to nab the exclusive she must write to secure the promotion she desperately needs—even if it means bargaining with a devilish billionaire. Once burned, twice shy, she has serious reservations about partnering with Donovan, but there’s more than a career upgrade at stake. Her ability to unearth the truth surrounding a newly discovered family secret hinges on the sexy billionaire.

 

When their quests collide, will their dangerous deal lead to love or will it cost them more than either of them bargained for?


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Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41573894-bargaining-with-the-billionaire-bodyguard

 

BookBub - https://www.bookbub.com/books/bargaining-with-the-billionaire-bodyguard-secret-sentinels-by-lisa-weaver

 

Riffle - https://www.rifflebooks.com/books/1030461

 

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AVAILABLE in ebook

 

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Bargaining-Billionaire-Bodyguard-Secret-Sentinels-ebook/dp/B07GYMVSNK/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1538432745&sr=8-2&keywords=bargaining+with+the+billionaire+bodyguard

 

 

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Chapter One

 

She was going to self-combust. She was sure of it.
Downing a gulp of strawberry spritzer from the chilled glass in her hand, Madison Tremaine resisted the urge to fan her face to cool the heat rising there. It was bad enough she was the only woman at the bar in this glitzy nightclub without a date, the last thing she needed to do was draw more attention to herself.


Against her volition, her gaze drifted back to the stranger who was responsible for setting her aflame. Those piercing blue eyes, though! And the man’s perfection didn’t end at those show-stealing, mesmerizing windows into his soul. From the top of his head of stylishly-tamed curls to the tips of his Ferragamo shod toes and every millimeter of chiseled muscle in between, the dark-haired guy standing alone at the far end of the bar was the epitome of scrumptious.


Too bad she was on a strict yumminess-free diet, courtesy of her ex-fiancé’s betrayal. She’d adored Eric, but he’d thrown her love for him back in her face and turned her heart into a crime scene.

She was over him, now. Her days of treading the serious relationship path were over, too. But if there was ever a man worth breaking her love embargo over it was this one.


Thankfully, common sense roadblocked her driving inclination to get to know the sexy stranger. She couldn’t afford that indulgence. She was here for business tonight, not pleasure, and Mr. Dreamy Eyes would only splinter her focus.

Actually, ‘splinter’ was putting it mildly. She was quite certain the handsome stranger was capable of blowing said focus to smithereens.

 

As though he knew exactly what she was thinking, the owner of those deliciously sexy peepers raised his glass in salute, shooting her a grin that had her hormones whimpering in eager surrender.


Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the intriguing planes and angles that made up his sculpture-worthy face, Madison shoved aside the driving compulsion to explore where the blatant interest his body language was telegraphing might lead. There was no way she could go there. Both professionally and personally, there was too much riding on the assignment she was here to carry out.


A reporter for the Daily Commentator, she was here tonight to secure an interview that could very well be career defining. Her shot at landing the promotion she so desperately needed hinged on convincing one of the state of New York’s most speculated about billionaires to share the story of his rise from abject poverty to rolling-in-it riches. She was here to track that billionaire down, but Mr. Dreamy Eyes made her want to back-burner the task at hand and skip directly to playtime.


She promptly stamped down the urge to take him up on the invitation simmering in his gaze. No one on her paper’s payroll—or any other paper’s for that matter—had managed to garner a sit-down with media-shy business mogul Alan Sonetti. She had every intention of succeeding where they hadn’t.


For her brother’s sake, she had to.


Alan Sonetti had ignored her fellow reporters’ attempts to connect with him via phone calls and e-mails, so she was employing a different tactic to try and secure an interview with the elusive playboy billionaire. If the mountain wouldn’t come to her, then she would go to the mountain.


The only downside to her plan was that this particular mountain happened to reside in a mansion that was more secure than most fortresses, and his corporate headquarters was a stronghold, as well. With zero chance of getting face-time with him at either location, she decided to seek him out at the flagship of his chain of clubs where it was rumored he surfaced on rare occasion.


After getting a tip that tonight might be one of those rare occasions, Madison had shared her plan with her editor, Felicia, who had given her stratagem her wholehearted backing.


More than just her boss, Felicia was also a good friend. Earlier today, Felicia had called her into her office and handed her a shopping bag emblazoned with the logo of a high-end retailer.


“A little something for you to wear tonight when you visit the club,” she’d announced, looking immensely pleased with herself.


A peek in the bag had revealed a slip of black silk nestled in a bed of tissue paper. “A scarf?”


“Very funny. It’s a dress.”


“There’s not enough yardage here to qualify as a dress.”


“You can dispense with the eye rolling. Trust me on this.

Senetti’s caters to the silver spoon set, and designer micro-minis are de rigueur there. Besides, if you want a face-to-face with the man himself you need to get his attention. I guarantee he won’t be able to take his eyes off you in that outfit.”


“But…”


“There is no but. Just wear the dress. That is unless you don’t want the promotion?”


Oh, she wanted it. She’d never wanted something so badly in her entire life. The new position would super-size her paycheck, which meant she’d be able to help Matt. Since she was the reason her brother was in a bind in the first place, failure wasn’t an option.


It was that drive to succeed that had her shimmying into the wispy garment that was the polar opposite of her usual office armor of tailored slacks and blouses, and joining the crowd queued up to gain entry into the nightlife hotspot that carried Senetti’s surname as well as his personal stamp of posh.


It wasn’t until the doorman ushered her inside that it struck her just how far out of her element she truly was. Felicia’s gift served as terrific camouflage, but it didn’t prevent her from suffering from one mega case of fish-out-of-water-itis. Sonetti’s catered to the rich and famous, a demographic she was light years away from meshing with.


It was some consolation that she wasn’t the only square peg trying to fit into this round hole of a nightclub. Even though this realm of the mega-rich might as well be the planet Mars in her book, she’d bet her last dollar the real-life Artemision bronze at the bar was as much of an outsider here as she was.


It wasn’t that Mr. Dreamy Eyes didn’t fit in with the clientele here when it came to net wealth. His clothing and demeanor were the epitome of refined and urbane, and he carried himself with an easy grace and sophistication that spoke of a bank balance that matched or exceeded those of the affluent partiers in this exclusive hot spot. His smoldering gaze, however, telegraphed something altogether different. Something primal, dangerous, and untamed—something that made it clear he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as the others.


She found that something irresistibly compelling.
Shaking her head, she reminded herself that she wasn’t here to get this sexy stranger’s story. It was Alan Sonetti she was after. Unfortunately, she wasn’t making any progress towards that end. If Alan was here tonight, she’d yet to spot him.


Curling a strand of her hair around her pinkie, she tried to ignore the bitter disappointment burning a hole in the pit of her stomach. Her deadline was looming. If she didn’t land this story soon, she could kiss any chance she might have of earning that promotion goodbye.


Resuming her search with renewed determination, she scanned the club for her quarry. Moments later, her gaze inadvertently tangled with the sexy stranger’s again.
The accidental eye contact sent a bolt of impossible-to-ignore chemistry zipping between them, and a wave of heat rushed to her cheeks. As the sensual pull of attraction wove through her, it struck her that tonight wasn’t the first time she’d seen this man.


Drinking in the details of his perfect features, she only grew more certain she’d seen those high cheekbones and that classically aquiline nose before. But where?


She’d discounted half a dozen possible reasons why he seemed so familiar when her cell phone chimed, announcing an incoming text from Felicia.


“Find him?” the text read.


“Not yet, but I will.” she texted back in reply.


“That’s the spirit. R U behaving?”


Madison’s mouth curved in a cat-caught-the-canary smile as she keyed her response. “Sort of. Might be guilty of indulging in an eye candy fest.” Discretely using her cell phone to snap a photo of the visual treat in question, she sent the picture off to her friend.


“OMG,” Felicia texted back.


“I know, right?” she typed in reply.


Felicia’s response pinged back immediately. “Do you know who that is?”


“He looks familiar, but…?”


“He’s a billionaire, just not the one you’re chasing down.

He made headlines two years ago. Plane crash.”


Felicia’s prompt was all it took for the ‘ah ha’ moment to dawn. Small plane crashes rarely became the focus of national news, but when the disaster involved a private jet piloted by one of the inamoratos of the rich and famous the story definitely merited prime billing. The newsworthy-factor doubled when word leaked that the only other person on board the plane was a popular young Hollywood actress, Vanessa Ashcroft.


Madison’s fingers quivered with excitement as she keyed her reply. “Donovan White!”


Her editor’s enthusiastic confirmation flashed across the phone’s screen. “Yes!”


Madison couldn’t believe her luck.  She’d come here in pursuit of one story and another one had quite possibly just fallen into her lap. Donovan White hadn’t been spotted in New York since shortly after his accident two years ago.

When his aircraft had gone down over the ocean near a remote Brazilian jungle, rescue crews hadn’t been able to locate the wreckage. It had been assumed there were no survivors, but a last-ditch search effort had led to the billionaire’s discovery on an uninhabited island miles from the presumed crash site.


Donovan White had miraculously beaten the odds. Vanessa Ashcroft hadn’t been so fortunate.


After attending Vanessa’s funeral, Donovan had retreated from the social scene he’d held court over and left New York. From that point on, the billionaire playboy who’d once featured regularly on almost every society page had pulled a vanishing act. Rumor had it he’d joined in the operation of his family’s California vineyard.


Then why, after withdrawing into utter seclusion, had he suddenly surfaced here at the apex of the social spotlight he’d abandoned? Madison had a feeling if she could answer that question, she would have the makings of a scintillating headline.


∞∞∞∞∞∞∞


Donovan White rubbed at eyes that were gritty from too much caffeine and too little sleep. Two years ago, clubbing had been one of his go-to pastimes. He’d reveled in the throbbing beat of the music and fed off the energy of the crowd.


He wasn’t that man any longer.


Now the strobing lights, ear-drum-busting din of the band, and the obnoxious clashing of a myriad of warring designer perfumes only grated on his nerves—nerves that were already stretched thin by the dire nature of the mission he was here to carry out.


A covert operative for the Sentinels Agency, he’d invested countless hours over the past few months knitting together a tenuous bridge to Alan Sonetti. It was believed that Sonetti was doing business with master mobster Lawrence Mendacci, and the bridge he’d cobbled together just might bring the agency one step closer to putting an end to Mendacci’s reign of terror.


Gaining Sonetti’s trust hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed to convince the man he was every bit his match when it came to treading in the gray. He was here to rendezvous with the club owner after being granted his first face-to-face meeting with him.


So far he’d been left cooling his heels.


He despised waiting. It gave him too much time to think about things he wanted to keep tucked away in the ‘do not disturb’ section of his mind—too much time to dwell on the way lives had been irrevocably changed in the aftermath of the crash he’d been unable to prevent.


He was determined to do everything in his power to prevent future tragedies. Tonight’s meeting would open the door to doing just that. Liz Meyers, the dynamo at the helm of Sentinels who’d recruited and trained him, had tasked him with entrenching himself within Sonetti’s organization. He wasn’t about to let her down.


And so he would wait. He could be patient if this temporary inconvenience brought the Sentinels Agency one step closer to quashing Lawrence Mendacci’s blood trail and bringing an end to the mobster’s reign of terror.


Of course, it didn’t hurt that his wait came with an unexpected reward—an enticing distraction from the tedium of being on Sonetti’s stand-by list in the form of a blue-eyed, ebony haired angel at the bar. The pulse-stutteringly beautiful woman practically vibrated with barely suppressed energy. She’d captured his attention the instant she’d swept into the club.


He wasn’t the only one who’d taken notice of her. Despite the fact that he and the bartender were the only men in the establishment without a woman hanging on their arm, that didn’t stop the other male patrons from checking the sexy siren out.


And who could blame them? The beauty wore a flashy designer mini dress that highlighted her curves, paired with sky-high stilettos that accentuated her long, shapely legs. Her stunning face was framed by a cascade of dark hair that glinted with burgundy highlights.


The urge to thread his fingers through those seductive strands of ebony silk flared hot and insistent, surprising in its intensity. He chalked the craving up to not having had a woman in his life since Vanessa, but he knew it was more than that. There was something about this woman that called to him. She looked like she was here on a mission, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her quest might be.


Noticing his interested perusal of the beauty, the bartender quirked an eyebrow in masculine solidarity.
“Not hard on the eyes, is she?”


“That she’s not.”


“Why don’t you do yourself a favor and buy her a drink?”
It was a shame he didn’t have time for such a pleasant distraction at the moment. If he did, he wouldn’t need the bartender’s urgings to connect with the woman.


“I would if I wasn’t here on business,” he replied. “I’m waiting to meet with Alan Sonetti.”


“Business, huh? Too bad.” Rubbing the teak countertop with his polishing cloth, the bartender paused mid-swipe and regarded him intently.


Donovan saw the exact moment recognition dawned.


“Say, you’re Donovan White, aren’t you?”


Nodding, Donovan took a swallow of his drink in preparation for the volley of questions he knew would inevitably follow.


“It was a miracle you made it off that jungle island alive. I imagine it couldn’t have been easy being stranded in the middle of nowhere, not knowing if or when you’d be rescued.”


“It wasn’t. It’s an experience I don’t like to rehash.” A half-hearted smile took the bite out of his response.


Not at all dissuaded, the bartender ploughed on. “A shame about that actress you were dating. Tragic that she didn’t survive the plane crash.”


“Yes,” he agreed, taking another drink in hopes of anesthetizing the sharp sting of guilt. But the bite of the brandy couldn’t dispel the painful memories, and the world’s supply of alcohol wouldn’t ease his crushing despair over what had happened in the aftermath of the accident. Nothing could.


Leaving the bartender’s curiosity unquenched, he steered the conversation back to the topic at hand. “The woman…is she a regular?”


“First time I’ve seen her. A lot of purebred peacocks gather here, but this one is a ray of sunshine. I just wish she wasn’t here poking around looking for trouble.”


“Trouble?”


“She was asking about Mr. Sonetti, earlier. Not to disrespect the boss, but nothing good ever comes of that. Beautiful women are in here all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He’s got that RHS factor, you know? Rich.


Handsome. Single. On the rare occasions one of them is lucky enough to find him, they inevitably throw themselves at him hoping he’ll fall for them. He doesn’t throw them back—just uses them until he tires of them.

The relationships all end the same, and it’s not with him putting a ring on their finger.”


Donovan raised an eyebrow at the man’s candor. “I see.


Well, I’ll be keeping your boss tied up with business for a bit. Maybe she’ll get tired of waiting.”


For her sake, he hoped she did. Alan Sonetti was into shady up to his neck, and he’d hate to see her get mixed up with the man. If the bartender was right, and the dark-haired beauty was on a hunting expedition to bag Sonetti, odds were good she had no idea she was tracking dangerous game.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Lisa Weaver’s love affair with all things literary was sparked the moment she opened the cover of her first book and The Pokey Little Puppy captured her heart. Her tastes have matured since then, but whenever she delves into the pages of a new novel she experiences the same thrill of discovery. Every book is a glorious safari into a world of endless possibilities and inexhaustible inspiration. Since romance is Lisa’s favorite genre to read it was inevitable that, when she was bit by the writing bug, she would choose to pen stories of strong, sexy heroes and bold, beautiful women finding their happily ever afters. She thinks of her stories as fun and flirty romantic romps—like decadently rich cupcakes, heavy on the frosting. She hopes her readers will find her novels every bit as satisfying as dessert.

When she isn’t reading, writing, or plotting more romantic treats, she can be found behind the lens of her camera, in front of a canvas with a paintbrush in hand, or spending time in her garden. She also loves exploring her beautiful home state of Maine. Lisa loves to hear from readers! Please drop by and visit her anytime at her website, www.lisaweaverromance.com. You can also keep in touch with the latest Weaver Romance happenings via her Facebook and Twitter pages.

 

Lisa’s latest book is the romantic suspense, Bargaining with the Billionaire Bodyguard.


 

Website Address:    https://www.lisaweaverromance.com

 

Blog Address:    https://www.lisaweaverromance.com/blog

 

Twitter Address:    https://twitter.com/Dreamweavings7

 

Facebook Address:    https://www.facebook.com/Dreamweavings

 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 


http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

 

 

THANKS FOR JOINING US, LISA! SOUNDS LIKE A GREAT READ & I AM SURE READERS HAVE FOUND ANOTHER GREAT BOOK TO ADD TO THEIR SHELVES!

 


THANKS FOR VISITING EVERYONE!

 

 

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text 2018-10-29 11:00
Blog Tour with Excerpt! Miss Management (The Anderson Family #2) Traci Highland!

 

 

Title: MISS MANAGEMENT
Author: Traci Highland
Publisher: Cheshire Lane Press
Pages: 215
Genre: Romantic Comedy

 

 

BOOK BLURB:

 

Mags has gotten herself in a ton of trouble: she's lost her job, any hope for references, and she's going to run out of money.... fast.

 

Yeah, sure, it may be her fault for punching her boss, but the jerk totally had it coming.  

 

Nobody listens to her until she reaches her boiling point, and by then, well, she’ll admit that there’s no stopping Mr. Fist To The Face.

 

Now her years of hard work as a speech therapist are about to go down the drain unless she can find some way to salvage her career. So when her Aunt Elise calls to say that she has a job for her, it’s not like she can say no, even if the job is up in the wilds of Vermont.  

 

Between stuffed moose, sloppy dogs and sexy men, Vermont proves to be a lot more interesting than she expected. But when she uncovers a scheme that would put her new employers’ livelihood in jeopardy, more than just hydrangea bushes are about to get squashed.

 

 

Add to your shelves at –

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40726714-miss-management

 

BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/miss-management-anderson-family-series-book-2-by-traci-highland

 

 

 

Miss Management is the 2nd book in the Anderson Family Series –

 

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/gp/bookseries/B07FD5NZZV/ref=dp_st_1717866840

 

 

0 Miss Camp
1 Miss Behave
2 Miss Management

 

 


AVAILABLE in print or ebook at –

 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Miss-Management-Anderson-Family-Book-ebook/dp/B07F66C6QH/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

 

 

 

Aunt Elise’s house, a tidy little Victorian painted white with blue shutters and a red door, looks like a gingerbread house about to collapse. Sure, it’s clean or whatever. But it’s old and sinking on one side. She invited me for lunch after I got back from the bank yesterday, and after a night spent drinking beer and trolling through online job postings, and then spending the morning drinking coffee and trolling through more job listings, the invitation to drive on out into the Berkshires and have an excuse to see the sun is actually kind of nice. The Berkshires is about as far as I can drive at any given time, given, well, anyway. It’s nice to get out.

 

I knock and Elise opens the door. “What the hell is that in the driveway? I didn’t recognize it.”

 

“It’s my Prius, Elise. I’ve been driving it for four years now.”

 

“What happened to the pick-up truck? I thought you liked to drive pick-ups.”

 

“I crashed that pick-up, Aunt Elise.” She furrows her brow. “It was on the news, remember? I sort of accidentally ran over a mailbox. And some hedges. And an arbor.”

 

“Oh yes, the mistress’, right? Now I remember.”

 

“One of the mistresses.” My husband of the time had many. But I had been friends with Shawna. “I hit some black ice.”

 

She harrumphs.

 

The police also harrumphed when I told them about the black ice, as I recall.

“I always hoped you were a lesbian, you know. With that truck.”

 

“Not all lesbians have trucks.”

 

“No, but the fun ones do. Have you met Sharon and Hazel down the block? Lovely couple. Hazel drives a truck and—“

 

“Can I come in? It’s starting to rain.”

 

She pulls the door back further and ushers me inside. The house is a tea-party nightmare. Shelves filled with teapots and chubby figurines pucker up at the flowered wallpaper in the hallway. The rug of the adjacent living room is the color of cotton candy and I swear my stomach growls every time I see it.

 

I brush the plaques of inspirational sayings out of the way as I hang up my coat on the coat rack.

 

She stomps like a thin Godzilla back to the kitchen, causing the house to shudder and clink in alarm. “You’re in luck, I just made some chicken salad.”

 

“Sounds great.” I follow her into the kitchen and sit at the table with a sigh.

 

“I have a job for you.”

 

“Is that door still crooked? I thought for sure that tightening the hinges would do the trick.”

 

“No, I mean a real job.” Elise places a colorful bowl down in the middle of the table and glares. Sealing her lips with some sort of judgmental superglue, she waits.

 

Oh, right. The hands. I go over to the sink and wash my hands. She’s got this thing about germs. Betty and I used to mess with her when we came over, going over to the sink and putting our hands together so that she would wash one of my hands and I would wash one of hers and then we’d wait to see if Elise would notice that we each still had one dirty hand.

 

She did.

 

Always.

 

As twins, Betty and I were convinced that we were supposed to be born with some kind of twin-specific super-power, but really the only thing we were consistently good at was making our baby sister Piper laugh so hard that milk would shoot out of her nose.

 

That was another trick that Aunt Elise didn’t find to be particularly endearing.

After I dry my hands and grab the loaf of bread out of the breadbox, I say, “All right, so what kind of job are we talking about? And please don’t mention the one in the woodchuck town.”

 

“What do you have against woodchucks?”

 

“Sweet Romany Halls! I don’t have anything against woodchucks, I don’t can’t

work in a town that worships vermin, that’s all.”

 

“Fine. But please don’t take Romany’s name in vain.”

 

Romany Halls is a professional wrestler that Aunt Elise has a crush on. One night when I was over doing some repair work for her I heard her swearing at the television set. And I mean full-on swearing. Aunt Elise never swears, at least not that I’ve ever heard. As I walked into the guest bedroom to make sure she was okay, I realized that she not only was watching television in her guest bedroom, which was odd, but that the walls of the bedroom were covered in posters of one very muscled wrestler wearing not-so-many articles of clothing. It was like an homage to all that was masculine and spandexy.

 

Whenever it’s just the two of us, I feel obligated to tease her about her crush and her shrine to the glory that is Romany Halls. Me? I don’t so much dig the guys with eye makeup thing. But Elise, well, Elise seemed to like them big, oiled up, and wearing nothing more than colorful underwear.

 

“So this job?” I grab a spoon and scoop out the chicken salad.

 

“It’s for a friend of mine, actually. Very nice. Her name is Eve and she needs help with Mansfield.”

 

“Mansfield? That’s quite a name. What happen, did he have a stroke? Car accident? Cancer?”

 

“I don’t know. But she has put out several ads in the paper and everyone who shows up to check on Mansfield apparently refuses to treat him.”

 

“Refuses to treat him? That’s horrible. Why doesn’t she take him to a clinic? If he’s rehabbing, a facility is probably better equipped than her house.”

 

“She says that he can’t travel to a clinic. He must be in pretty bad shape.”

 

“Have you ever met him?”

 

“No, I know Eve from college. She comes down sometimes, and I’ve met her grandson a few times. Lovely boy. But I haven’t met Mansfield.”

 

“Is she nearby? Can I pop over there today and see what’s going on?” I really need a job.

 

“She’s up in Vermont. But last time I spoke with her on the phone she mentioned that she has a guest cottage you can stay in when you come. I guess she has a lot of land.”

 

“Wait—you already told her I would go?”

 

“Of course you’ll go.”

 

“You know that time you asked me to tell you when you were overstepping some boundaries? Consider them overstepped.”

 

She takes a bite of her sandwich, her eyes demanding from over the top of her bread.

 

I chew my bite of sandwich, taking time in savoring the flavors of Aunt Elise’s chicken salad, just to make her sweat for a bit. I close my eyes, exaggerating the chew.

 

When I open them again her eyes are no less stern as she wipes the side of her mouth with a hot pink napkin.

 

Damn. She’s not sweating this at all, is she? Not even a little bit.
“Fine. I’ll go. This is a paid job, right?”

 

“Good. And yes, of course, provided you don’t walk away like those others.”

 

“Speech pathologists don’t usually make house-calls. I’d imagine that the other folks just tried to convince your friend to take Mansfield to a proper rehab facility.”

“Try not to be so judgmental before you even get there.”

 

“I’m not being judgmental.” Maybe a little. “He should be where he can get the best care, and that’s not always at home.”

 

“Eve and I went to Smith together, Mags. I’ve known her for years and years. Trust me, if she’s determined that the best place for him to be is at home with her, then she’s right. Period.”

 

“When did you tell Eve I’d be there?”

 

“Tomorrow. It’s going to be a great job for you. You’ll see.”

 

Tomorrow. Of course.

 

 


Traci Highland writes funny books for sassy ladies. She is a graduate of Bryn Mawr College and has a Master’s from Quinnipiac University. She uses this education to write books, bake cakes, garden and make homemade jams. Her children say she’s bossy, her husband says she’s high-maintenance, but the dog thinks she’s perfect.

 

 

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

 

Website - http://www.tracihighland.com/

 

Twitter - https://twitter.com/TraciHighland

 

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/TraciHighland/

 

BookBub - https://www.bookbub.com/profile/traci-highland

 

 


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