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Hi I'm Janna and I am a book whore! I started this blog after being a part of another for years. While being a big blog may be nice I like to stay true to me having a love for books, that's why I blog. I love books and I want to share that love with my readers of this blog. I love to read, books are my escape and a huge part of my life besides my husband and two children. I am honest and sometimes sassy in my reviews but never mean. Some of my favorite authors include Kristen Ashley, Penelope Douglas, T.M. Frazier, M.N. Forgy, Rachel Van Dyken, Meghan March and Vi Keeland to only name a few!


Friday, March 31, 2017

Release Boost! Rules Of Payne By Elizabeth Lynx




Morgana Drake has a problem. Her boss Henrik Payne. 

He is short-tempered, self-centered, in dire need of a social life, probably an undiagnosed workaholic, and practically unbearable. 

Yet. 

She wants to rip his clothes off. To slather him in vanilla buttercream frosting and lick it off him from toe to head, and especially in between.

How will she ever get ahead at the company if she keeps imagining her boss melting in her mouth?

Henrik Payne has rules. Rules to live by and especially work by. It's not until his clumsy yet curvaceous assistant tests his resolve that he begins to see life isn't all about rules.

He just hopes he can get through the day without accidentally fondling her.




99c for a limited time

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
BOOKS2READ




Once I was out of the elevator, I headed straight into the bathroom and noticed Ms. Drake was not at her desk. Maybe she went home for the day and I won’t have to deal with her.

I checked my watch and noted the time, ten minutes until eleven o’clock. I had just enough time to give my cock a good spanking before Ken Brooks, the CFO, used the restroom for his daily shit storm. I’m sure Ms. Drake had learned by now to stay away from her desk when Brooks used the bathroom.

My orgasm was quick due to the use of one of my top fantasies about Ms. Drake. I had about ten different fantasy scenarios of her I used when I masturbated, and they were ranked by length of orgasm and time it took to hit the big O.

The one I used was ranked at number two. I would have used the first one knowing time was limited with Brooks nearing, but I wanted to switch it up. Anyways, I used number one in the shower this morning.

Number two was Morgana on her knees in my office, begging for my cock. She drooled as I told her to take all of it. I knew she wouldn’t actually drool in real life, but it’s my fantasy. In my imagination, she salivated all over the Captain.

I cleaned up, flushed, and then ran into Brooks just as I was washing my hands. He was boring as usual. He always discussed the weather. It’s cold. Bitterly cold. Chicago in the winter was frigid, everyone knew that. Why talk about it? He mentioned the sun and I didn’t care.

Once I was in my office, I opened my laptop and began checking my emails. One was marked urgent about the new Denton account. I realized I was going to need Ms. Drake to help me.

Having just orgasmed, being in the same room as Ms. Drake shouldn’t cause any problems. I got up and opened the door to find her with her head on her desk.

“Ms. Drake.”

She popped up and stared at me. Those greenish eyes turned golden as they enlarged.

Here I was boasting about what a hard worker she was, and now she’s laying down on the job.

“Is this how you spend your day when you think I am not in the office? Just lying around.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally shaking her head at me.

“The meetings for today got canceled, so it looks like I’m going to be here the rest of the day. Come inside my office; I need to go over some things with you.”

She mumbled something just as I turned to go back inside. The words ‘come’ and ‘bathroom’ were the only ones I caught.

I turned back. “What did you say?”

Her eyes darted around. “Uh, let me just run to the bathroom first.”

I nodded my head. “Okay.”

After a few minutes, she strolled into my office. Over the last few weeks, I had become accustomed to Ms. Drake’s stride. It’s average but with a little more swing in her hips and at times, bouncy. Perhaps that was why she tripped more often than others.

But right now her walk was cat-like, stealthy, with a heaping dose of confidence and cleavage. As she took her seat, her fingers tugged at her blouse, bringing my eyes down to her chest where they remained.

I hated it when she did that.

Forcing my gaze back to her face I wondered what I missed. Something was happening and I wondered for a moment if it involved me.

“Are you feeling alright, Ms. Drake? You look pale and you have a funny expression on your face.”

Her fingers continued to fondle her top but her eyes narrowed at me. “Oh I’m fine, Mr. Payne. One hundred percent, grade-A beef, fine. In fact, I think I’m a little hot. Do I look hot to you, Mr. Payne?”

One button. Pop.

Another button. Pop.

She shimmied slightly but enough to reveal a slip of green lace.

I swallowed. Hard.

“Ms. Drake, what are you doing?”

Her lips curved as if she was waiting for those exact words to tumble out of my mouth. I got the feeling she wanted something. I also got the feeling I would give it to her. My hand slipped to my lap as I adjusted my cock already stirring from his earlier binge.

He was insatiable.

“I was in the bathroom a little while ago.”

I nodded. “I know you asked to use it before we had this meeting.”

Did I drop something in there? Maybe she heard me talking to Brooks and wants in on that top-secret conversation about the sunny sky in winter.

I tried to hide my laughter.

“No, before.”

What was she talking about? This woman was sexy and smart, but right now she might as well have been…wait, I think I got her meaning.

“The women’s bathroom you mean, right, Ms. Drake?” My eyes pleaded with her to open her mouth and say ‘yes, the women’s bathroom.' Why would she not use the women’s restroom? That would be ridiculous, especially so close to Brooks’ time.

Her head turned slowly from side to side in a tormenting no. “No, the men’s. The woman’s restroom was being cleaned so I had to use the men’s. You know, the one where you wanted me to take all of your cock.”


Author Bio

Elizabeth Lynx writes romantic comedy with steam. She's a recovering comedian. Wife and mother of the male species. Believer in love & laughter. Her life consists of preventing small catastrophes and wondering if a day will exist when she doesn't have to fold laundry.

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Release Boost! Seat 2A By Dela



When Jessie Evans, a Georgia Southern University cheerleader, leaves for her best friend’s wedding the last thing she expects is for the seat next to her to be taken. After all, she’d only canceled Seat 2A hours prior after catching her boyfriend cheating.

Kendal Vargas, son of a Spanish emigrant fashion guru, is on his way to Whistler for a “mancation”. Running to buy a neck pillow before his flight, Kendal bumps into Jessie Evans. Kendal is in a hurry. Kendal does not stop to help her. Kendal forgot his neck pillow and the plane is about to leave and hey—who could travel without a neck pillow?

Charmed by Jessie’s beauty, and watching her board his very plane, Kendal takes a whim and changes his seat to one he hopes would be next to her. Jessie ignores Kendal’s attempt to be chatty but when their connecting flight gets canceled overnight, the pair has a chance to make a real connection.

Seven years later, Jessie bumps into Kendal in the produce aisle of a Portland grocery store. No neck pillow is involved, except there is a beautiful little girl who looks just like him. Fate has given them another shot but will Kendal’s whims keep them apart?




Available for 99c

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU 

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Author Bio
Dela is the author of newly released SEAT 2A, a Contemporary Romance about two strangers having a second chance at fate. She’s also written THE 52NDsaga, a paranormal romance for young adults centered on the bloody Aztec tradition of human sacrifice. The sequel, BEYOND THE NEON SHORE, will release Summer 2017.

You’ll most often find her in gym clothes, taking pictures of books in the desert, or eating peppermint patties writing her next book. She lives in Las Vegas with her husband, three kids, and one exceptionally fat Chihuahua. Her website is www.delaauthor.com.

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Excerpt Reveal! Damnable Grace By Tillie Cole


Coming April 18th



EVEN THE BROKEN, THROUGH LOVE, CAN FIND GRACE...

Secrets never stay hidden.

The burden of guilt never lifts from the heart.

Born and raised in The Order of David, Sister Phebe knows nothing but cult life. Head of the Sacred Sisters of New Zion, Phebe was groomed from childhood for one purpose: to seduce. Prized as a harlot, as a New Zion whore, Phebe is taken from the doomed cult by Meister, the notorious leader of the Aryan Brotherhood. Taken as his possession. Taken to be the woman who will obey his every sexual demand. Under his heavy hand, Phebe finds herself in a place much worse than she could ever have imagined... with absolutely no one to help. And no glimpse of hope. 

Xavier ‘AK’ Deyes is content with his life as Sergeant-At-Arms of the Hades Hangmen. Leader of the infamous ‘Psycho Trio’ and ex-special ops sniper, AK knows how to fight. Experienced in warfare and schooled in military operations, AK is vital to the Hangmen. When his Vice President needs help retrieving his missing sister-in-law, Phebe, from a Klan-funded trafficking ring, AK volunteers to go in. AK remembers the redhead from New Zion. Remembers everything about her from the single time they met—her red hair, blue eyes and freckled face. But when he finds her, heavily drugged and under Meister’s control, her sorry condition causes him to remember more than the beautiful woman he once tied to a tree. Saving Phebe forces hidden demons from his past to return. A past he can never move on from, no matter how hard he tries.

As AK fights to help Phebe, and in turn she strives to help him, they realize their secret sins will never leave them alone. Kindred broken souls, they realize the only way they can be rid of their ghosts is to face them together and try to find peace.

Despair soon turns to hope, and damaged hearts soon start to heal. But when their deep, painful scars resurface, becoming too much to bear, the time comes when they must make a heavy choice: stay forever damned; or together, find grace.

Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, disturbingly sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and very mature topics. Recommended for age 18 and over.




“Well?” Ky asked.
Tanner ran his hand over his head. The brother hadn’t attended one of our cookouts or slutfests in weeks. Not that he ever entertained himself with sluts—still too hard for his piece of pussy down in Mexico. He’d been busy trying to track down Meister. Unlike most of the white-power shit Tanner and Tank grew up with, this Meister was untraceable and off the grid. As much of a computer whizz kid as Tanner was, Meister was proving to be one slippery fucking snake to pin down.
“Gotta be honest, I didn’t think I was anywhere close to finding anything on this prick.” Tanner nodded toward Tank. “We knew of him, of course. I knew he had dealings with my father and uncle, just never met him myself. He’s Aryan Brotherhood, but works closely with the Klan. And there’s nothing on him. No email traces, no invoices, no texts. Nothing.”
I gritted my teeth and glanced at Styx, who was listening closely. Ky wasn’t originally gonna tell the prez about the plan to get Phebe, because of his fucking wedding, but that didn’t last long. Styx knew something was up with his VP. He read him like I read Flame and Vike. So Ky fessed up, and Styx was all for the plan. He’d had to push his wedding back by a month anyhow to get the pastor Mae wanted to conduct the ceremony, so he had time to kill.
“But you found something?” Ky translated as Styx signed.
Tanner sighed, the black circles around his eyes showing how hard the brother had been working. “I got something.” He shook his head, and my blood ran cold. I knew whatever he had found wasn’t good.
Tanner opened the file in front of him and threw a photograph toward the prez. Styx looked at it, then gave it to Ky. “Some middle-of-nowhere ghost town?”
Ky passed the picture around. Vike handed it to me, and I studied it. It was an aerial shot, and the picture was grainy, but from what I could make out, it was just a huge piece of land scattered with decrepit old buildings.
I passed the picture along. “Fucker owns this?”
Tanner faced me. “Yeah, or at least his father did. He’s dead now, but the deeds are still in his father’s name. Been in the family for decades. Took me a while to trace it.” He shook his head. “Meister is notorious among the Klan. Right, Tank?”
“Yeah,” Tank agreed. “Never met him either, but we’d all heard of him. Prick has been mobilizing for years for the race war they think is coming. Real serious, Oklahoma-City-bomb shit. From what we’ve heard, the guy has a one-track mind when it comes to advancing the white race. You think Hitler was fucked up? Well, imagine if he had a kid who was one built motherfucker, with a fucking carbon copy of his psycho mind; and you’ve got Meister. Fucker ain’t even German. Just wishes he was, spouting German phrases around like he’s born and bred Berlin. Delusional asshole.”
“This ain’t gonna be easy,” Tanner finished, looking at me, Vike, Flame, Hush and Cowboy. It was the five of us who had agreed to go looking for Phebe. Hush and Cowboy nodded at me to let me know they were still in.
“So he’s in this ghost town?” Ky asked, translating Styx’s sign language again. “If so, we’ll all just go in and get him, make the fucker talk and tell us where he’s got Phebe.”
Tanner sat forward. “He ain’t just living in the ghost town or hiding out. That’s where he has his enterprise.”
“Enterprise?” Ky echoed. It was his own question this time.
Tanner nodded. “From what I can tell, it’s a fucking brothel. Members of the Aryan Brotherhood, Klan, or Klan sympathizers, can go there for a night or a few days at a time.” Tank shifted uncomfortably next to him. “Ain’t sure, but I’m thinking it ain’t just getting your dick sucked and fucked. It’ll be real fucked-up shit. If Meister’s reputation is anything to go by, we would be walking into an organized, armed hellhole.” Tanner’s eyes darkened. “I get the Klan has a reputation for being full of backward rednecks. I ain’t gonna lie—growing up, most of my father’s cronies were that way. Thick as fuck and couldn’t do shit without screwing it up. Skinheads, lower-ranked soldiers, you know?”
“But there were some members that weren’t,” Tank continued. He cast an embarrassed glance at Tanner. “We weren’t, for starters.”
Tanner nodded. “It’s not the norm, but some of us were good. Smart, strong fighters, or just outright fucking psychos. The skinheads and rednecks are the foot soldiers. The likes of us, the likes of Meister, are the fucking SS. The planners, leaders, the generals—the ones who believe in the cause so much that they’re fucking lethal with what they’ll do, what they’re capable of. Meister is true Aryan Brotherhood; he’s preparing for war. He’s the real fucking deal.”
“And now he’s in our neck of the woods to stir up shit?” I asked.
Tanner nodded. “Comes from northern Texas. Never moved our way before. But the Klan are building day by day, joining forces with other white supremacist gangs—like the Brotherhood—and with the shit that’s on the news twenty-four-seven, blacks and whites at each others throats, he’s moved to the headquarters.” The brother’s jaw clenched. “To my father and uncle, who’ll be protecting him from being found out by the feds.” He sighed and ran his hand down his face. “From what I can figure out, this ghost-town brothel of his has only existed in the last year or so. He’s looking to fund something.”
“They ain’t dealing guns?” Cowboy drawled. “I thought that’s what Rider said the contract with the cult was for?”
“Rider was sure it was guns. At least it was when he was dealing with the Klan—it was all about arms. The Klan was selling them on and taking a cut.”
“His fucking twin,” Hush spat. “He changed the arrangement, didn’t he? When Rider was locked up in cult prison?”
“Think so,” Tanner said after a few seconds of silence.
“Then what the fuck are they dealing? What was Judah giving them if not Israeli guns?”
“Women.”

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.


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Cover Reveal! The Beard Made Me Do It By Lani lynn Vale


Release Date: June 28, 2017 

He’s only a friend. 

Those words had haunted him from the moment Jessie James had heard them muttered from the one girl, above all others, that he thought had his back. 

Sixteen years later, he still feels those words like a brand on his soul. 

Lucky for him he has a son to take care of, a full-time job that demands every single second of the day, and not a single moment to spare for the likes of a woman that won’t stand up for him when he needs her the most. 

He’s only a friend. 

The words had slipped out of Ellen’s mouth, and before she could recall them or better yet, explain, Jesse is gone from her life for good, taking her heart with him. 

She tries to find her way out of the pit of despair, but not one single person, no matter how much she tries, can fill the void that he left in his wake. Time heals all wounds. Or at least that is how the saying goes. It’s a crock of crap, though. 

Sixteen years pass when Jessie and Ellen see each other again without the influence of the town and bad memories surrounding them, and it’s as if not a single day has passed. 

Ellen knows the instant that her eyes see her old love that she’s still just as much in love with him today as she was all those years ago. The problem is that Jesse wants nothing to do with her. Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.




“Why the hell are you out here and not in your fucking room doing that?”  I asked my sixteen-year-old son, Linc.
Linc looked up from his homework, and shrugged.
The problem with Linc doing his homework out here meant that he had the TV blaring, his phone on some stupid Vine video, and his pencil tapping a million miles an hour while he hummed to some random song that only he could hear.
He was also nearly naked.  Had been for the majority of his life.
He ignored me as if I hadn’t said a word.
“Seriously,” I said to him. “What makes you think it’s okay to sit here in your underwear with the fuckin’ front window wide ass open?  There are people in this neighborhood that I’d rather not egg our shit. Not to mention you don’t pay the fuckin’ electric bill and it’s cold as fuck out.”
Linc snorted.
“They’d have to be able to walk close to our cars, and since most of them are old geezers, I don’t see that happening.” He countered. “What’s got up your ass?”
I grunted, walking to the kitchen to grab a beer.  It’d been a long fucking day, and I had to go back to work and do it all over again tomorrow.
I was a welder for a pipeline, and my job was exhaustingly hard work that I fucking loved.  I made a whack, and payed for my bills, but to do that I had to work long hours.  Nearly eighty hours a week.
“Someone called for you today. A woman.”
“What was her name?”  I asked, scanning the contents of the refrigerator for something to eat. “Did you eat all the leftover pizza?”
Linc and I had pizza a lot.  Anything that was fast, and came out of a box, was our go-to menu item seeing as neither one of us really knew how to cook. Lunchables. Macaroni. Hamburger Helper when we were feeling adventurous.
“Ellen?”  Linc guessed.  “I wrote it down on the pad next to the phone.
The name ‘Ellen’ wasn’t common, but it was still impossible for a girl from my past—almost fourteen years ago to be exact—to come back and haunt me some two thousand odd miles away from where I first met her.
“What did she want?”  I asked. “And you never answered me on the pizza.”
“That was gone last night about three in the morning.”  Linc chuckled unrepentantly.  “And I wrote it all down on the note.”
I closed the fridge and moved across the small space to the counter next to the landline that I wasn’t sure why we still had, and stared at the pad of paper with two words on it.
Club party.
“Can I go?”
I looked up to find Linc, the boy that was spitting image of me.
Six feet one, and likely to grow even more since the pediatrician said he’d likely reach my height if not more.  Jet black hair with a slight wave to it, exactly like mine.
Hell, he even had a beard, exactly like me.  Though, his was much more trimmed and kempt due to the school he was attending informing him if it wasn’t done just so, he’d have to shave it or leave the school.
We’d had to fight for the beard, so if he wanted to keep it, he’d damn well follow their rules or I’d make him shave it off myself.
His body mass was the only thing he didn’t have yet that resembled me. He was much skinnier, and definitely on the verge of getting some bulk, just like I had been at seventeen. But he didn’t have it yet. He was still in that in between stage that showed the promise of what he might one day be.
Me, I was six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, and had a six pack that was derived from days and days of hard work and sweat on the pipeline. I had a beard that was on the verge of being too bushy, but I’d literally lost all desire to impress anyone a long fucking time ago.
I was me.  I wasn’t going to change, even though some would like me to.
“I’ll have to ask if it’s kid friendly…” I laughed when my son gave me a face that clearly said what he thought about me saying ‘kid friendly.’
My kid wasn’t a kid. He couldn’t be when he was raised by me.
I’d done my best, but I’d been more like a brother than a parent. We were seventeen years apart in age, and there wasn’t a day that went by that I did the whole parenting thing correctly.
He had to grow up faster than most. By the age of ten, I was leaving him at home for extended periods of time because I’d been switched to a different shift that equaled me not getting home from work until a little after nine o’clock.
By the age of twelve, he was spending almost the entire night alone every other day because my shifts were switched again.
By fifteen, we didn’t even pass each other for the entire day at times.
Now, at sixteen, I had a better paying position. One that equaled me working days, though they were long and just as tiring—if not more tiring—as my previous job.  Being peoples’ boss was the pits.  Dealing with peoples’ bullshit was even worse.
“You took me to the last one.”
I grinned.  “That’s right. I did.”
“I can’t believe you’re prospecting. I’m so fuckin’ excited.”
I just shook my head.
My kid rolled his eyes at me and got up, walking toward me with a paper in his hand.  “Read this and make sure it looks good.”
I grabbed the paper and read it, my heart tightening slightly when I read the words on the paper.
“You think I’m a superhero?” I asked quietly, my eyes flicking up to my son’s where he was leaning against the wall.
Linc looked at me, really looked at me, and nodded.
“Yeah, dad. I think you’re a fucking superhero.” He grated out. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here right now, now would I? My paper was on someone who inspires me to be a better person. That’s you, bitch.”
I grabbed my man-child into a headlock and brought him in close to me, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head before taking him down to the ground and tickling him like I used to do when he was six.
“Get out of here, kid. Let me read. You get your shit picked up outside or it’ll get stolen.”
My kid left, luckily putting pants on before he walked outside to pick up his football gear, leaving me to read a paper that was enough to bring a grown man to tears.




I’m a married mother of three. My kids are all under 5, so I can assure you that they are a handful. I’ve been with my paramedic husband now for ten years, and we’ve produced three offspring that are nothing like us. I live in the greatest state in the world, Texas.


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