Showing posts with label Book tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book tours. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Pacific Blue by Kristina Luckey

Title: Pacific Blue
Author: Kristina Luckey
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 14, 2019


Art first. Love later…or so she thought.

Sea life sculptor Piper Diaz is tired of being pressured to conform. She
is never marrying, joining her family’s investment firm, or moving from her
tiny industrial loft. Her sole focus is getting her artwork shown. And
screw anyone who’s told her to drop the hobby. Nothing
will stop her now that Pacific Blue Fine Art Gallery has agreed to show her
sculptures. Things are finally going her way…

That is until entrepreneur and businessman Alex Hutton purchases the
gallery and has zero interest in unknown artists. He gives her a choice to work
for him or quit.

Alex has sunk all his money into reimagining Pacific Blue and turning it
into a premier gallery. He won’t be distracted and certainly not by the
beautiful Latina glaring at him. Still, there’s something about Piper he can’t
shake, regardless of his heart-shattering past. Pacific Blue must open in a
month or he loses everything. Working alongside Piper might just cause him to
lose his heart along with his investment.

Purchase Links


Free in Kindle Unlimited


Author Bio

Kristina writes multi-layered stories with characters that
stay with readers long after the words The End. Her first work of women’s
fiction A Forgiving Heart received honorable mention for a
novel excerpt in the Soul-Making Keats Literary Competition sponsored by the
National League of American Pen Women. Her contemporary romance novels Pleasure
 and Pacific Blue promise the same emotional
read, stunning California settings, along with strong, sassy heroines and
heroes who will steal your heart.

A California native, Kristina shares her love of the Golden
State with readers through setting and culture in a series of contemporary
romance novels. When she isn’t writing, she is exploring her state, traveling,
looking for the best eats (she’s a major foodie), and spending time with her

Author Links

Handle Me by Elodie Colt

Title: Handle Me
Series: The Heed Me Novella
Author: Elodie Colt
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 14, 2019

I had no idea he had a twin.
And no idea I hooked up with the wrong brother... until it was too late.

I’m Ruby Kingston. Conventional, modest, and hard-core ambitious. My career path is paved. My love life is stable. Well, my friends like to say it ‘lags’ but let them talk...

Jesse understands me. We’re the same in many ways. Duty comes first, college has priority. It’s always been this way, and he’s never let me down before.

Until he abandons me the day I need him most.

Imagine my surprise when he returns sooner, putting his career on the line for my sake.

Our relationship’s better than ever. Perfect.

So perfect even, that I’m starting to wonder... 

Is this really the same man I fell in love with?

Meet Raphael Chandler in Book#4 of The Heed Me Novellas and see for yourself how Ruby fell in love with the wrong brother!

“Una margarita, por favor!” I shout over the blaring music, and the bartender responds with a thumbs-up.

The place is packed tonight. La Puerta de Alcalá is one of the few fancy night clubs in Veracruz. I’ve been here a few times already, getting tanked and chasing the next best chica to warm my bed. Tonight, I’ll save myself the last part and stick to drinking instead. I’m not in the mood for another Mexican diva.

Propping my elbows on the counter, I watch the people go crazy to the beat. The strobes kick in when the song reaches its high, and I wince, turning to face the bar again and briefly closing my eyes to get rid of the haunting images.

Too late.

The electric lights flickering was the first clue that something was wrong. The two vibrations that shook the earth was the first sign that shit was about to hit the fan. And the fireball shooting up the sky was the last thing I saw before something hit me on the head.

It was like the blowout on Deepwater Horizon back in 2010 when a bubble of methane gas escaped from the well and skyrocketed up the drill column. The result—eleven dead crewmen and an offshore oil spill of about eight thousand barrels per day until they managed to close the cap four months later.

The blowout on Sunray Shell two months ago was ‘not as disastrous’ as the news likes to phrase it, but for me, it was my worst nightmare.

Because I was there. Right in the middle of it.

I know it’s not my fault the oil rig blew up like fireworks, but I can’t stop thinking… Could I have prevented it?

About two years ago, I snagged a job at Transocean Ltd. and started working on Sunray Shell, an offshore platform off the coast of Newfoundland. A beautiful island with friendly folks, an amazing culture, and world-class food.

I loved the job. Loved flying with the helicopter to the rigs, getting my hands dirty, and spending time with the crew. I was offshore for six weeks followed by six weeks of leave with enough free time to explore the world.

I worked my ass off to become a motor hand—the guy responsible for the motor parts and drilling equipment. My salary was insane. My life was fulfilling. Finally, I’d achieved something. It was the first time I wanted to keep a job. Period. Maybe work my way up to become a driller or whatever.

But this dream blew up. Literally.

That Monday morning, the ventilation system failed because one of the roustabouts did a lousy cleaning job. Dangerous fumes rose up, and one spark from a power tool was enough to create a blast the likes of which I’ve never seen. I swear, I thought this was the end of the world. Now, the remains of the rig rest on the seafloor of the Atlantic Ocean.

Lucky me, I got away with a concussion. One of the roughnecks found me buried underneath a pipe, snatched me, and jumped overboard with me. A helicopter airlifted us to a hospital. A few hours later, the news reported that three men didn’t make it, one of them my best friend, Wes. I fled the hospital the same day and was off to Quebec by nightfall.

Since then, I’ve never been in one place for more than a month. Making acquaintances, not friendships. Renting stuff, not buying. Visiting places, not settling down. It’s easier for me without attachments and commitments.

Because whenever I manage to fuse the seams, they crack apart. Just like it happened with Lana six years ago…

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” someone shrieks from behind me in a clear, American accent, and I nearly spill my margarita when a slap on the shoulder hustles me forward. Whirling around, I meet wide, blue eyes on a tan face. “How the hell did you know we were here?” Before I can utter a word, the blonde answers her question with a smirk. “Ah, you texted Matthew, didn’t you?”

Uh… what now? Who the fuck is Matthew? And who the fuck is this girl?

I give her a quick once-over, wondering if we’ve ever met. She doesn’t seem familiar. Maybe a quickie from a few years ago? Unlikely. I’m quite picky when it comes to my hook-ups, and blondes are not my first choice. I prefer brunettes. The darker, the better.

But I have to admit, the girl is nice eye-candy. One of those beach bunnies with long, white-blonde hair curling over her shoulders in messy waves, sun-kissed skin, and a splatter of freckles on her nose. Her dress is more like a gown with nothing to show off except for her bare arms and ankles. Too elegant for a night club. Too innocent for a quick fuck.

“Hello?” She clicks a finger in front of my face when I take too long to answer.

Hooking one finger into my belt loop, I send her a lopsided grin. “Sure, I texted Matthew,” I say at last, taking the bait. No idea if she’s mistaking me for someone else, or if this is one these I-just-pretend-to-know-you numbers to initiate an easy conversation, but I’m game. Everything for a little distraction.

“You wanted to surprise Ruby!” she squeals, clapping her hands in excitement. I send her a wink and take a long sip from my margarita. Who is Ruby now? “Oh my God, this will knock her off her feet! Okay, listen…” She motions for me to come closer, and I tilt my head to hear her better. “You stay here, and I’ll get Ruby, all right?”

“O-kay…” I mutter in confusion, not sure what else to say, but the surfer chick is already bouncing off and elbowing her way through the crowd. Huh. If this was one of her pick-up lines, she missed the point, I dare say.

With a shrug, I turn to face the bar again, gesturing for the bartender to hand over another margarita. Whoever this girl was, she was either crazy or high on some serious shit. Whatever. Chances are I’ll never see her again.

Letting my hand vanish into my pocket, I fish out my phone and open Wherever It Takes Me—a little app I’ve programmed myself. It shows the world as a globe with a smiley face and tiny arms and legs attached. As soon as you hit the Off You Go! button, the smiley-globe starts to spin, and a pin marks a random location on the earth. Wherever it strikes, this is the place I’m going to visit next.

To make things easier, I’ve disabled the entire subarctic climate zone. Had enough of that when I flew to Norilsk, Russia, in January. Covered in snow for two-hundred-fifty days and plagued with snowstorms the rest of the year. Truly, a blessed country. Not.

“iPhone, iPhone in my hand, where’s the next place I will land…” I mumble to myself. Clicking the button, I watch the globe spinning until the smiley winks and waves both hands. “West Palm Beach, Florida,” I say out loud, testing it on my tongue. Sounds more like a holiday than an adventure, but maybe that’s exactly what I need.

“Just a few more steps, Ruby.”

I spin around at hearing the now-familiar voice, shocked when I see the pretty blonde approaching again, but this time, she’s brought a friend—a friend with hair like a liquid curtain of chocolate and a timid smile on her face.

“Skyla, what the hell are you up to? I can’t see where I’m going!” she complains, blindly teetering forward while her companion covers her eyes with her hands.

Ruby and Skyla… I let the names tumble inside my head, but nothing clicks. What are the odds that those two chicks are into a threesome? Maybe that was the surprise the blonde meant. And one I wouldn’t negate, that’s for sure.

They both wear the same dress with similar hairstyles, so my first guess is that they are bridesmaids who just came from a wedding. While both look pretty in their gowns, it fits the brunette way better, her busty forefront stretching the fabric.

By the time Skyla pulls Ruby to a halt a few feet in front of me, I’m nearly as excited as them, impatiently waiting for the blonde to drop her hands and reveal the brunette’s eyes.

And when she does, my first thought is that a mermaid materialized in front of me. The silver eyeshadow on her lids enhances her moss-green irises, and her dark, full brows make a perfect arc on her porcelain face. Her milky skin is flawless, and even with the makeup on her face, I know there’s not one blemish. A set of lush pink, heart-shaped lips curl into a smile when she blinks up at me.

A smile that is my undoing.

Because that smile is neither sultry nor mischievous. It’s not the I-know-you-can’t-resist-me, please-take-me smile that I’ve seen a thousand times before. Far from it.

It’s a genuine, heart-wrenching smile that lights up her face as if she’s waited an eternity to see me. A smile no girl ever reserved for me. Not even Lana. The only one she sent those smiles to was Jesse, and—


Shit, what are the odds that this girl thinks I’m my twin brother?

First things first—I'm not an English native speaker. I live in a boring little town on the outskirts of Vienna, Austria, so probably very far away from you! I'm an avid reader and have been reading English books my entire life. When I write, I can't think in my mother tongue anymore. For a long time, this was the reason I refused to take that leap of faith into publishing, because I feared I could never compete with the others. A year later, I decided it was worth the risk, and now here I am... Crazy!

I’m a hybrid steamy/erotic romance author. Doesn’t matter if contemporary, paranormal, dystopian, or urban fantasy—I write & read them all!

Relationship status—living happily with my boyfriend, not married and no kids, yet. I have a fulltime job in marketing and wish to make a living as an author. Let's see how this will turn out in the future...

I'm too organized. Everything has its place, everything is planned. Also, I’m always busy and looking for work, which is pretty exhausting sometimes.

I have an uncanny talent for remembering faces and names, but I’m shitty when it comes to directions. I'm not kidding you, I can get lost everywhere, especially on ski slopes!

I love movies, my Kindle Reader, snowboarding, wakeboarding and sunbathing. I hate The Simpsons (I know, I’m probably the only person in the world, but I just can’t warm up to them), zombie movies, and fish (as in the food—got sick once and can't touch that stuff ever since). 

That's pretty much the short version of it. If you want to know more or have the feeling you need to stalk me, find me on the usual platforms.


The Bewildered Bride by Vanessa Riley

Ruth Croome, a Blackamoor heiress, was supposed to get married in a gorgeous wedding gown, made from her father’s exquisite fabrics. Instead, they eloped to Gretna Green and upon returning, their carriage was beset by highwaymen and she witnessed the murder of her new husband. Now, four years later, with a child, she wants to move on with her life. A marriage of convenience will do. Ruth already had a love for the ages.
Adam Wilky is really the heir to the Wycliff barony—which he never told Ruth. Too much danger. So many secrets. When he was nearly beaten to death and sold into impressment, he thought Ruth had died, too. Ready for revenge, he finally returns and discovers Ruth alive—with a son who could only be his—and she is furious to discover he lied to her. Now it’ll take more than remembered passion if he hopes to win his reluctant wife back...
Each book in the Advertisements for Love series is standalone story.

About the Book

The Bewildered Bride
by Vanessa Riley
Advertisements for Love
Historical Romance
Entangled Amara
Publication Date
August 12, 2019
Purchase Your Copy Today!
Amazon  |  Entangled Publishing  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  iBooks

An Advertisements for Love Novel
© 2019 Vanessa Riley

October 4, 1818, Gretna Green, Scotland

The words between my Adam and the innkeeper left me shaking.
Get your bed wench out of here.
A chemise slipping from my shoulder exposed our so-called sin.
How dare you bring a whore to my good establishment!
The hate echoed in my head, rattling and shaking my conscience.
I was frozen.
Torn between fleeing and defending my love, I settled for hiding with blankets at my chin.
How could that horrible man reduce my vows said before God to something illicit and tawdry?
Plink. Plink. Scatter.
Coins dropped to the floor.
My hearing was sharp, sharper than my sight, and I could picture Adam throwing pence to prove a point.
Didn’t he know points stabbed?
Even a rich man’s son could be killed.
Adam came back inside our room and slammed the door. “My love, we must leave. Ruthy, we have to be on the road sooner than I wanted.”
His voice was calm, like nothing had happened. He finished dressing, tied his perfect cravat, and leaned over the mattress, kissing my nose.
But I knew Adam.
He seethed.
He prayed and called for blessings but could curse like a hot-headed sailor.
My love’s cheeks were red, flushed with anger, and he kept clenching and unfurling his fingers as if he’d fight the next person who crossed his path.
“I adore you, my Ruth.”
My husband’s voice—perfection. So sweet to my ears, if a masculine sound could be called sweet. I couldn’t think when he whispered my name.
“Ruthy, my love, I’m going to the stables.”
I pressed my hand to my middle and pushed hard on my stomach to squash the wiggles and tingles inside.
“Wait here for me.”
“No, I must come with you,” I begged to stay at his side.
“No, my Ruthy. Another time you’ll get what you want. But this is for your safety. My wife must stay safe.”
Mesmerized, I nodded. His power over me was complete. He took his gold cross from his neck and put it about mine. “So, you won’t forget me while you dress.”
The trance ended when he turned and reached for the door latch.
“Don’t, Adam. Don’t do anything rash.” I wanted to say stupid, don’t do anything stupid, but that would push him into trouble. His hot temper surpassed mine when he thought I suffered.
“I won’t, Ruthy. I won’t be long.”
Fingering the cross, I decided to try one more time to keep him. I feared that I’d never see him again if he left this room. My hands came together, palms flat and pointing up toward him. “Adam, please stay. Let me dress and come with you. I don’t want us apart.”
“I’ll be back for you when our carriage is ready. My wife is not waiting in the cold.” He came back and kissed my forehead like a reward for a good girl.
But I was his girl. And he was all mine.
Tossing me a wink, Adam slipped to the door again. “I’ll be back soon, to help you lace up your corset and anything else I had a hand in removing.”
My husband loved his jokes, but his jaw was stiff. His face remained beet red. Anger would eat him up.
The door closed with a thud. The lock clicked.
I was alone.
I climbed out of bed and found my shoes. Low boots with hard soles were better than bare feet when running for your life.
I paced around the smallish mattress of the rented room. The bedclothes he’d tossed off when the innkeeper had pounded on the door lay here and there. A pillow flopped half against the bedpost.
It looked like a struggle, where a volatile argument had occurred, not an abandoned lovers’ nest.
The floorboards creaking under my shifting weight made my heart race.
I stopped, grabbed the pine footboard, and tried to breathe.
My ears perked to the footsteps outside my door.
I waited.
I suffered.
I kept watching the door that didn’t open.
The pounding in my head grew so loud I saw stars and could almost envision Adam coming across the threshold. But I knew that was my fear twisting up my insides.
The vengeful innkeeper had given us an hour to leave. That time couldn’t be up, not yet. Adam hadn’t returned.
My only possessions—a balled-up dress, a nightgown, a silver brush—I tossed into my trunk. I should lock it up, close the metal clasps, but I wasn’t done in this room and wanted to leave the way I came, on my husband’s arm
I picked up my pearls from the bed table. The smooth beads felt cold in my sweating palm. Five days ago, I’d worn them for Adam as we’d married with the anvil priest.
Adam had beamed at me with a wide lazy smile as he had tonight, before the knock upon our door.
The pearls.
The pearls were now slippery in my hand. I tossed them into the trunk before they fell and burst apart. Papa had given them to me for my birthday, something to wear for my coming-out. Or for a wedding to a groom he’d choose.
My concerns for my parents pressed. I pictured Mama rocking, blank faced, in a chair, fearing her wild child was lost to the streets. Gone a fortnight, traveling from London to Scotland and only now heading back—I must be dead to them. Surely, they think me killed, even slaughtered like my uncle.
Adam had persuaded me to send no note. He’d said it was too risky then had smothered my complaints in a kiss. That silver-tongued devil could convince me the world was flat, that I was the Queen of England. One look at me with his deep-gray, almost black, eyes would send me spinning. He wove sweet words about me—I was better than Papa’s silk—and I became boneless and agreeable and not myself.
I pounded the footboard with my palm. I was Mama’s wild child, at nineteen, her oldest. I had caused such trouble—breaking curfew, sneaking out, running from chaperones.
I sank onto the bed, trying to stop my sobs.
A full minute I sat before I couldn’t bear it and leaped up.
Sitting on sheets that had lost the warmth of Adam’s body but teased the scent of his Bay Rum cologne ripped everything wide open.
I didn’t know who owned these tears—Mama, Adam, or me?
I had to get out of this room that now felt too big and empty.
Over my corset and chemise, I yanked on my favorite dress. I buttoned it fast and crazy, missing hooks and holes. There wasn’t time to fix it, so I hid the uneven placard under my shawl.
This, my wedding gown, should be worn with care. Fragile, soft silk, colored in primrose yellow, I’d worn it with pride when I’d become Mrs. Adam Wilky.
Fussing and cussing sounded outside my door. Maybe the innkeeper had found another couple to evict.
I’d wait until the corridor cleared, and then I’d leave.
Quiet. No footsteps. No creaking floorboards.
Locking my heavy trunk, I then struggled with it, and walked out of the room.
I held my breath, tiptoeing with my head up.
Soon I was halfway to the stairwell, too far to turn back. My boldness and pride kept me from retreating. I shifted the trunk and mumbled that I was resilient. I was a Croome as much as a Wilky. That should mean I possessed strength like my papa and shrewdness like Mama.
But I was alone, and none of these notions seemed to stick, not when someone had cursed at me and wished me dead.
Resting for a moment, I brushed at the creases in my dress.
Mama’s hot scolds about lazy bones admonished my soul. The spring muslin gown should’ve been folded, placed with its bodice lines straight on the chair, not tossed with lover’s abandon, without thought or care.
I laughed, a gut-wrenching chuckle. Fleeing for my life had fashionable consequences.
Come on, Ruthy, I said to myself, modeling Adam’s way of keeping me calm. We were only a half day’s travel to London. A few more hours and we’d be at Nineteen Fournier to face my parents. The grief I’d caused shifted through my brainbox, raising questions I didn’t want to think about.
Did we rush to elope?
Had we found love too fast?
Would this passion last?
Moonlight streamed through an open window. I headed toward it like a moth, swinging my heavy trunk. I peeked out the glass to get a glimpse of Adam or the carriage.
The light of the stars made the silver band on my finger sparkle. Pride cut through the confusion in my bosom. I am Mrs. Adam Wilky, the wife of a man who understands me better than any. He is worth it. I just need to find him.
I forced my chin to lift, forced my limbs to move, forced myself to believe I’d soon be safe in my husband’s arms.
Glowing slit eyes crossed my path.
I ran. The heaviness of my trunk jerked my shoulders. Blinking, I turned the corner and saw nothingness, especially nothing soft or furry or as scared as me.
My sight wasn’t normally bad, but thick-rimmed reading spectacles like Papa’s would someday be mine.
Finally, finally, finally—I found the stairwell, dashed inside, and hid in its blackness.
Back flat against a wall, I filled my lungs and waited.
My breath caught in my throat, and I hugged my trunk as if it were Adam. He’d told me to wait, that he’d come back for me, but my heart was about to tear apart. I was afraid I’d never see him again.
Never ever were we to part.
Sweat dripped down my neck. My hastily done chignon fell. It was frizzy and damp on my neck. I couldn’t fix it now. I needed Adam.
Counting my steps, I made it to the bottom of the stairs. Ten paces more and I was out the door. I held my breath again. No carriage.
I set the trunk down by my foot. Though small, the thing was heavy, very odd for a leather-skinned box holding so few items.
Cupping my hand to my face, I hunted for my love.
I saw nothing but road and fence.
Oh Lord, had he left?
I prayed with hands folded in front, fingers pressed high, eyes shut tight, like a good girl who hadn’t broken a commandment, defying her parents, one who hadn’t lied about going to Mrs. Carter’s for tea. She was one of Mama’s closest friends. Maybe they comforted each other.
“Where are you, Adam?”
He’d never leave me, not by choice.
Stories of his family’s treachery slammed into my chest. All the air fled. I forced my breath in and out and tapped my foot to this rhythm then leaned out and looked from side to side.
No one.
No Adam.
Every cloak-and-dagger meeting by the dock, near my father’s warehouse, swept into my head, the motion roaring, swinging my balance like a fiddler’s reel.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Every whispered conversation swirled.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Adam’s walk, his smile, swam past my eyes.
He’d said his uncle was after him.
I’d thought it was a joke. Something that added to the mystery of him.
Had evil come and taken my husband?
Why did Adam have to be digging into his uncle’s business, nosing about stuff that could get him killed? He could be slaughtered, like my uncle.
Papa’s brother had been murdered for being too black and building his business in areas where my people weren’t supposed to be. A bloodied jacket was all that had ever been discovered.
I’d found it balled up on the steps like he was nobody and nothing to this world.
That couldn’t be Adam’s fate, a bludgeoned cape that would haunt my mind forever. It would remind me of his walk, that swagger, draped in ebony velvet. The best time of my life had been loving him.
I looked down at my trembling hands.
My whole arm vibrated. I couldn’t control it.
I was lost.
The panic that stalked my thoughts covered me, catching me in a fine fabric mesh. It was too wide. No seams to split. No way out.
Fear for the man I loved did me in.
I started sinking.
No way out.
No escape.
I tipped over.

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of THE BEWILDERED BRIDE by Vanessa Riley, we’re giving away for a $25 Amazon gift card!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open internationally. One winner will be chosen to receive a $25 Amazon gift card. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Entangled Publishing.  Giveaway ends 8/16/2019 @ 11:59pm EST.   CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

About Vanessa Riley

Award winning, Amazon Bestselling author, VANESSA RILEY, worked as an engineer before allowing her passion for historical romance to shine. A Regency era (early 1800s) and Jane Austen enthusiast, she brings the flavor of diverse, eclectic peoples to her stories. The author of Madeline’s Protector, Swept Away, Unmasked Heart, The Bargain, and Unveiling Love, she has won the Beacon Award, the Colorado Award of Excellence, and placed in the International Digital Awards for her Regency romances. Vanessa Riley is a historical buff who has spent many years researching Regency society. During her undergraduate studies at Penn State, she gained a love of Western Civilization and took as many classes as she could while pursuing Bachelors and Master’s degrees in Mechanical Engineering. Her love of history has given her a passion for conducting precise research in architecture, customs, and rituals of the times. She lives in Atlanta with her career military husband and precocious child. You can catch her writing from the comfort of her southern porch with a cup of Earl Grey tea.
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