Wednesday, March 30, 2016



Left with a decision she never thought she would have to face, Sadie Warren knows someone's heart will be broken, and no matter the outcome, a piece of her own heart will break as well. Both men have shown her a different side to love, but to find true solace she must make the ultimate sacrifice and walk away from the man who promised her the world. But will her heart lead her down the right path, or will regret consume her with what could have been?


LOST (Finding Solace Book One $.99

TORN (Finding Solace Book Two)

CLARITY (Finding Solace Book Three)

Ash got up from the porch and walked over to my car. When I didn’t move, he opened the door.  He crouched down so that we were eye level and said, "You can come into the firehouse, but you can't get out of your car?" "I can. I just don't want to.”"So that's how you’re going to do this?”"No. I went to the firehouse to talk to you. I was asked to leave before I got the chance, by you. Forgive me if I have some reserve in me."  "If this is really how you want this, then fine." I had no idea what he was going to do. He stood, paused for a moment and then closed my door again. He walked toward the back and my heart fell as I thought he was leaving. But then he was at my passenger door, opening it up and taking a seat. "Talk." "Don't be mean to me." "Don't be mean to you? Sadie, do you want me to kiss your ass while you break my heart. That is never going to happen. I love you so much. I will always love you. But our love was just getting started. Thank God, this didn't happen later. I feel like my heart has been cut out already. I can’t imagine how much more painful this could be. I understand, Sadie. I always knew there was something between you two. I begged you to deal with all of that before I fell for you, to avoid all this. Why couldn't you do that? Why would you let me fall so hard, when you knew you could leave me someday if he showed up and said the right thing?" "Are you done?" I waited for him to respond but he didn't. "Do you want me anymore after all of that? Could you still be with me knowing I came into this without truly wrapping all of that up like you asked? Could you even respect me knowing that as my love grew for you there was still part of my heart that was his all along?"

Author Barbara Speak loves nothing more than being allowed to share her ideas and thoughts through books that so many enjoy. When she's not writing she's caring for her son and daughter along side her amazing husband in rural Missouri. She has 5 more babies but these are covered in fur. Bode the boxer, Tucker the beagle and Lily, Callie and Connor her kitties.


Friday, March 25, 2016

Hemingway's Hope by J.C. Thompson Blog Tour

March 7th, 2016

Hemingway has spent her life trying to earn love she was never going to get. Not capable of earning the love of her mom, she found what she thought was a lifelong love, until it wasn't. When she meets Max, the new drummer in her brothers' band, she just might find that love she has been searching her whole life for.

No stranger to pain and heartache. Max has learned from his past, that when you find someone worthy of your love, you give it all. Losing his mom at a young age showed him how fragile life is. He lives life with as few regrets as possible, and when he wants something he fights with all he has to get it.

Hemingway doesn't stand a chance against the force that is Max's love and devotion, not that she would want to.

Will Hemingway be able to move on from her past and open her heart up to love? Will Max be the one to show her the way? Or will they give up and move on when Hemingway is forced to confront her past head on?

When he clears his throat my eyes shoot from his mouth to his eyes. There is a little mischievous glint in them, and I know I was caught watching his mouth for too long.
“Actually,” he starts as he slowly pushes the door wide enough that he can get inside. “I was coming to see you. You haven’t been around for a few days. I drove by your mom’s but your car was never there. So I talked to Becca and she told me you have been hiding here. So I have to ask again. Are you hiding from something?”
I pull the towel tighter around me, feeling more naked than before. When I look back up into his eyes, I notice that his gaze his shifted and he is watching my hands at the top of my towel.
“I already told you I’m not hiding.” I pull a little piece of my hair as I answer. If he notices the nervous habit, he doesn’t say anything.
“And I think you’re lying.” Stepping closer as he speaks in a low gravelly voice.
“I’m not lying. I’ve just been, um, busy.” Each step he takes forward I take one back, until there is nowhere left to step. I’m trapped against the wall. He is standing so close that I can breathe in his fresh scent. With the last step back, I hit the wall a little harder than I expected, I can feel my towel starting to slip.
“Why are you hiding?” he asks so slowly, like maybe if he slows down my stupid brain will understand that he already knows that truth. What am I supposed to say though? “I’m hiding because I had a dream about you, and now I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want you.” Or “I’m hiding because I’m a coward and can’t face the pull that I feel when I’m close to you.” Instead I go with the only thing I can think that might convince him to leave me alone.
“I’m not hiding so much as avoiding.” I say with a shrug, trying to keep my voice even.
Leaning in closer he puts a hand on each side of my head. I’m fighting the urge to lean into him.
“What are you avoiding Hem?”
“Yes, that’s what I said isn’t it?”
“Because our little nothing of a kiss was a mistake. I didn’t want you to think it was anything more than a weakness I had on an emotional night.”
For the longest minute of my life he doesn’t say anything. I watch his eyes as they bounce back and forth between mine. Only once do I see them slip to my mouth.
“Huh,” there was that smirk again, God the things he could get me to agree to if only he knew the power behind that sexy smirk. Then again, maybe he did know. Maybe that’s why he uses it. “It was a little nothing kiss?”
“Uh huh”
“So if I kissed you now you wouldn’t enjoy it either?”
“Really? Is that why your eyes are darkening? Is that why your breathing has deepened? Is that why I can see your pulse thumping, right here?” he lightly taps the pulse point at the base of my throat. Am I that obvious? Can he tell by looking into my eyes how much I want him to do just that? How badly I want him to reach out and take what he wants from me?
Unable to speak, I just nod in response. I’m no longer sure if I am agreeing that I do want him to kiss me, or if I am confirming that it meant nothing. Which is total fucking lie.
Lifting my face with his fingers under my chin, he leans in to whisper. “You can lie to your friends. Hell you can lie to your brothers. Don’t ever fucking lie to me. Especially not about wanting me.”
I don’t get a chance to answer before his lips crush down onto mine. There is nothing slow and soft about this kiss. This is so different than what we shared just a few days before. Running his hand around to the back of my head, he lightly pulls my hair gaining better access to my mouth. As he deepens the kiss I bring my arms up wrapping them around his neck. His lips continue to move against mine, and I know he is waiting, trying to encourage me to open my mouth to him. When I feel his tongue move across the seam of my lips, I let out a small gasp, opening my mouth just enough to give him access. His tongue slowly dances across mine. When I feel him start to pull back, like he might break the connection, I gently bite down on his lower lip. Causing a low growl to come from deep in his chest, as his hips push forward into mine. Oh god, the feel of him warm and hard against my hot wet center. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t. Moving his mouth from mine and slowly trailing kisses down my neck and across my shoulder. I feel the hand that isn’t wrapped up in my hair, slowly slide down my side and across my hip so that he can find his way around to my ass. Gripping my butt he pulls me to him, to feel how hard he is against me. I can hear myself whimper as he bites down on my shoulder, just enough to sting, but not enough to hurt. Soothing the sting away with his tongue. He slides his other hand around to the other side of my butt and lifts me. Wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Where is your room Hem?”

Author JC Thompson was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. Where she currently lives with her high school sweetheart, two little girls, and five furry kids (3 cats and 2 dogs). JC loves to read romance, the smuttier the better. She is a self-proclaimed book addict that likes to get lost in a false reality anytime possible.
Hemingway’s Hope is JC’s debut novel, and it won’t be the last.


Thursday, March 17, 2016

BLOG TOUR DARK VORTEX BY Chantel Seabrook and Stella Marie Alden

Blog Tour & GIVEAWAY
Dark Vortex: Mated by Magic Book One
By Chantel Seabrook & Stella Marie Alden
Cover Designed by Queen Ninie
New Release Date: February 29th, 2016

For the survival of his clan, Jack Fialko needs to mate with a witch of equal power before the end of the solstice. He finds the perfect woman, except for one serious flaw. She has no idea how to engage in the dangerous magical foreplay–the duel for sexual equality. The task of training her in two days seems insurmountable, especially while other warriors are trying to kidnap her.

Zoe is a warrior-healer hybrid. The trouble is, she has no idea what that means. It’s all a harmless game until one night a dominant, brooding, sexy-as-sin warrior touches her and ignites a shameless craving to mate. Zoe must decide if the scorching chemistry between them is worth fighting for.

Can love and lust exist together in an exhilarating magical combination? Or will their bond combust?

WARNING: Book contains mature themes, steamy, sexual scenes and graphic language.

Power coiled through him. Roughly, he hauled her to the bed. Her back met the mattress and he positioned himself above her. He spread her thighs wider with his knees. She curled her hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles clench and tighten under her palms.
He stilled above her. The thick head of his cock nudged the swollen folds.
Amidst the addictive hunger, there was something more. Something Zoe didn’t want to speculate on. For a moment, apprehension edged at her arousal. 
“Say it, Zoe. Say you’re mine.”
It was a claiming.
He was claiming her.
And she desperately wanted to belong.
“I’m yours,” she whispered.
He thrust into her, working himself deeper, his gaze locked with hers. She gasped and gripped his shoulders tighter. He eased back, then pushed inside her again, slowly, deeply. He filled her perfectly.
“Mine,” he growled. “My mate.”
“Yes.” She was fighting to breathe. Fighting to make sense of the sensations tearing through her.
His hips jerked hard, burying himself inside of her.
 “You need to say it back to me, angel.”
“My mate,” she whimpered, feeling a new surge of energy pulsating through her body. A brilliant array of color, pleasure, sensations vibrated through her. For a brief, intense moment, she felt as if her body and soul merged with his, and her senses exploded with the pleasure of it.
His cock throbbed inside her, thick and hard, stretching the sensitive tissue. Electric pulses began to race through her body. Jack’s jaw clenched, fighting for control. He pulled back, then slammed in, harder, deeper. Impaling her with swift, hard strokes.
She dug her nails into his shoulders and gasped. Her vision darkened as she cried out with her release. The pleasure broke her. Every neuron in her body seemed to explode in ecstasy.
The vortex burst, sending violent waves of energy ricocheting off the walls. She heard Jack’s shout, felt the overpowering pleasure of his release pulsating inside her.
Closing her eyes, Zoe held onto him and knew nothing would ever be the same again.
She was lost to him. 


Chantel Seabrook currently resides in London, Ontario, with her husband and two daughters. She is passionate about writing and enjoys reading fantasy, paranormal romance, and science fiction. Chantel has a four-year Anthropology degree from Western University.


Stella Marie Alden loves Zumba, yoga, watercolor painting, and fixing up her house.
Growing up in Vermont, crayons fought over placement in their cardboard box and imaginary friends crowded the house. Her brother complained. “Tell her no one’s here, Mother.".
She’s been a librarian, a clarinetist, recording engineer, electronics repairman, and now architects software. She lives in NJ with her life-long hero and two cats. Her girls are grown but ever supportive. Go Mom!

Hosted by:

Monday, March 14, 2016


Title: Ugly
Author: Margaret McHeyzer
Genre: YA/NA
 Release Date: October 26, 2015


From New York Times bestselling author Margaret McHeyzer.... 

If I were dead, I wouldn't be able to see.
If I were dead, I wouldn't be able to feel. 
If I were dead, he'd never raise his hand to me again. 
If I were dead, his words wouldn't cut as deep as they do. 
If I were dead, I'd be beautiful and I wouldn't be so...ugly.

I'm not dead...but I wish I was.

Purchase Links




It’s days like today I wish I was dead.

“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.

He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.

And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.

“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.

As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.

“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.

I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.

“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”

My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.

School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.

It was never like this before. Ever.

I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.

Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.

Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.

Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.

I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.

I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.

Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.

My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.

Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.

Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.

I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.

Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.

Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.

I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.

“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.

I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.

“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.

“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.

That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.

He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.

I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.

“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.

“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.

“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.

The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.

But ‘please’ never seems to work.

Nothing does.

I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly girls do.

Author Bio

There's something about the written word that is pure magic.

Possibly it's the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they're capable to change our lives.

How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?

I like to think of myself as 'unique'. My stories aren't for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be 'normal'.

Normal is subjective.

I prefer to be known as a person who's never been 'bound by custom' but is 'unique by choice'.

I hope you do read and enjoy my stories.

Author Links