Quantcast

Thursday, January 31, 2019

DREAM KEEPER by Amber R. Duell Release Week Blitz:



I am so excited that DREAM KEEPER by Amber R. Duell is available now and that I get to share the news!
If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Amber R. Duell, be sure to check out all the details below.
This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $10 Amazon Gift Card, International, courtesy of The Parliament House and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

About the Book:
Title: DREAM KEEPER
Author: Amber R. Duell
Pub. Date: January 29, 2019
Publisher: The Parliament House
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 288
Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, B&N, Kobo

The Sandman is seventeen-year-old Nora’s closest friend and best-kept secret. He has to be, if she doesn’t want a one-way ticket back to the psychiatrist. It took her too long to learn not to mention the hooded figure in her dreams to her mother, who still watches Nora as if she’ll crack. So when Nora’s friends start mysteriously dying gruesome deaths in their sleep, she isn’t altogether surprised when the police direct their suspicion at her. The Sandman is the only one she can turn to for answers. But the truth might be more than she bargained for…

For the last five years, the Sandman has spent every night protecting Nora. When he hid the secret to the Nightmare Lord’s escape inside her dreams, he never expected to fall in love with her. Neither did he think his nemesis would find her so quickly, but there’s no mistaking his cruel handiwork. The Nightmare Lord is tired of playing by the rules and will do anything to release his deadly nightmares into the world, even if that means tormenting Nora until she breaks.

When the Nightmare Lord kidnaps Nora’s sister, Nora must enter enemy territory to save her. The Sandman is determined to help, but if Nora isn’t careful, she could lose even more than her family to the darkness.

Excerpt:
2
NORA
Shadows danced in the soft warmth of the white mini-lights strung around my bedroom. I hopped around my bed, fumbling with the buckle on my sandals, and tossed my purse in the corner. Something hard—probably my phone—thwacked against the light blue wall.
“Whoops,” I muttered, then growled at the metal hook locking my footwear in place. There were places to go, people to see. Or, rather, one person, and it was already hours past our usual meeting time. I jerked at the stiff strap. “Get off.”
Finally, it popped, and I kicked it triumphantly into the corner with my bag. The other came off without any trouble, and my stomach fluttered in anticipation. I tugged off my jean shorts and stepped into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, leaving on the ribbed tank top I wore out tonight. Who cared that a glob of nacho cheese stained the front? The Sandman certainly wouldn’t.
Climbing beneath the cool sheets, I dragged in a long breath and released it slowly. A small grin played on my lips as I stared at the lights hanging overhead. Then I shut my eyes and waited. Waited for sleep to claim me. To deliver me. But my body was too tense, and my mind still flipped through the day’s events—as ridiculously boring as they were. When the highlight of your day was painting your nails a new color, what was there to mull over?
After a handful of long minutes, I opened my eyes again and bit my lip. I could ask. It had been… Actually, I couldn’t remember the last time I asked him for anything. Even this. But I had to be up early for work tomorrow and we’d already missed out on hours together. A grin crept across my face.
“Sandman,” I whispered, and closed my eyes again in preparation. “Help me sleep.”
It came swiftly then, sweeping me gently from my world to another as easily as the breeze carries a feather. I curled my toes, feeling the powder-like sand of the Sandman’s beach beneath my bare feet, and opened my eyes. The endless blanket of bright stars, the luminescent waves, the Sandman… This place, this dream, was like coming home.
“Sorry I’m late,” I called with a smile in my voice. The light aroma of lilacs filled my lungs and I sighed, content. “Natalie and Emery dragged me to a party to celebrate our final first day of summer vacation.” By this time next year, we would all be high school graduates and legal adults—neither of which I was ready to think about. I stretched my arms over my head and fought a yawn. “Sandman?” There was no reply. I dropped my arms and spun, searching for a glimpse of the familiar black-clad figure. This was our spot—the place directly below the brightest star. My brows lowered in confusion. So why wasn’t he here? He was always here. “Where are you?”
The only sound was the soft hush of waves lapping the shore. I turned again, squinting down the beach, but there was no hooded figure in sight. My heart skipped a beat. The dream seemed to yawn open, the emptiness pressing in on me from all sides. He had to be here somewhere. A pit formed in my stomach, and I staggered back, unsteady. He had to.
The beach was an addiction I didn’t know how to cure myself of—didn’t want to cure myself of. For every time I had to pretend this place didn’t exist, the Sandman was there to absolve me of the lies. There to make me feel like I was good and sane and normal. It didn’t matter that he was also the reason I didn’t feel any of those things were true when I was awake. The Sandman was my anchor, holding me firm when life tried to wash me out to sea. Without him… I swallowed hard. Without him, I would be a ship without sails.
“Sandman!” I jogged down the water’s edge, my pulse drumming in my ears. “I’m here.”
But he wasn’t.
    
THREE THIRTY-TWO.
The clock on my nightstand glowed green, the colon blinking in a slow, torturous rhythm. I tapped my fingers on my stomach. The Sandman had never been a no-show before. And if he wasn’t there, maybe that meant they were right, and he wasn’t real.
No.
I refused to believe that. My mother meant well, but I couldn’t face a lifetime of pill-pushing psychiatrists. One white-haired doctor tossing around words like personality disorder and delusional was enough. By the time the final doctor deemed the Sandman a simple outlet for me to process my parents’ divorce, the damage was done.
Don’t worry about it, he said. It will pass, he said.
That was five years ago.
The divorce was a distant memory. My father moved across the country and my mother remarried, but the Sandman became a permanent fixture. One I’d learned to never, ever talk about.
What’s going on? I pushed the thought toward the Sandman even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. There was only one call that reached from this side of the Dream World to his, only one cry capable of bringing him here, but it never stopped me from trying.
I flung the sheets back with a huff and grabbed an oversized Lund Valley Community College sweater from the end of my bed. Natalie hoped we would go there together next year but… I wrinkled my nose and glanced at the dresser drawer where my sketchbook was carefully tucked between scarves. If I went to college at all, it would be for art, but that was a big if. No one in my family knew I drew, and if my mother was going to let me major in something “impractical,” she would want to at least see my work. Unfortunately, each page featured a majestic beach and a man hidden beneath a hood. Both things I was supposed to have forgotten long ago.
Tugging the sweater over my head, I made my way through the dark hallway toward the stairs. My mother and step-father were both working the night shift at the hospital and my sister could sleep through anything, yet I found myself tip-toeing down the hall.
I paused outside Katie’s door and listened to the steady, heavy breathing on the other side. Part of me wanted to wake my sister up to talk about what happened, but the other part of me—the part that remembered the piercing fluorescent lights of a therapist’s office—knew better. Katie had teased me about the Sandman when we were younger, but she never treated me differently. However, now we were older. Barging into her room to complain that my imaginary friend hadn’t shown up that night might alienate the last blood relative I could rely on.
Although Katie annoyed me like no one else, I loved her more than I was irritated with her. I needed my big sister on my side—even if it meant hiding a huge part of my life. So, I stepped away from her door and crept silently downstairs to the kitchen.
Maybe because I was about to steal someone’s box of frozen Thin Mints.
Sorry, not sorry.
Mist curled out of the open freezer, and I reached behind the chicken before a shrill, heart-wrenching scream tore through the house, squeezing the air from my lungs. It was made of nails and teeth and death. Of danger and fear. My eardrums rattled. Each nerve stood at attention, electricity buzzing over my body.
“Katie?” I yelled, frantically abandoning my pursuit of the cookies.
Confusion laced the edges of my shaky voice, but I was already racing across the kitchen. Instinct twisted my gut, telling me to turn and run, to save myself, but I couldn’t. Not if my sister was in trouble. Not if someone had broken in when no one was home to help. Not if Katie was hurt and scared. I propelled myself up the stairs to the second floor, my skin itching me to go faster, faster, faster. Katie’s door was still shut at the front of the hallway. My breath shuddered, and I reached for the handle, pausing with apprehension. The metal was cold in my palm.
“Katie?” Her name came out as a crackling whisper and I forced myself to inhale. Then exhale. Inhale again. My hand shook as I twisted the knob.
I eased the door inward. Without a barrier between us, the sound cut through me like a knife. I slapped a palm against the wall, hitting the light switch, and flinched at the sudden brightness. At what it might reveal.
Katie lay flat on her back, her eyes shut tight, with the sheets snarled in a ball at the end of the bed. Sweat poured down her face, plastering her pink hair to her skin. The wild scream continued, unrelenting, her jaw stretched wide, her neck muscles protruding. But everything else was in its rightful place. Nothing was broken. The lock on the window hugged its latch.
I stepped into the room and spun, bumping into the dresser. My pulse thrashed; it mimicked Katie’s scream in pendulum beats. Loud then muffled then loud again. “Katie?” My voice felt tight. I knelt on the mattress and shook my sister’s broad shoulders. “Wake up.”
The scream cracked. Katie sucked in air as if she were drowning and began again, just as terrified. I used the back of my wrist to wipe the moisture from my forehead. My nails dug into her shoulders, and I shook her rigid body with every ounce of strength I had. The more I yelled her name, the more desperate, more savage, my voice became. Black spots danced in my vision. Nightmares were one thing, but this was something else. Something beyond that. I shook the dizzying fear away and darted into the bathroom across the hall.
I returned with a Dixie cup of cold water and leapt onto the bed. The water hit Katie’s face with a splash. “Come on,” I shouted to no avail.
I fumbled for Katie’s cell phone on the nightstand. If our mother didn’t know what to do, she could send someone who did. My thumb hovered over the direct number to my mother’s unit when a quick, metallic burst of air whooshed in from the hallway. A shiver ravaged my spine, and Katie’s pitch reached new heights. I slipped from the bed, my hip smashing into the floor. The phone fell from my hand, seemingly in slow motion. I lunged for the door, and slammed it shut, leaning my back against the wood.
I couldn’t think.
Couldn’t... I couldn’t...
The walls seemed to shrink, boxing me in. Trapping me.
Above the screech, a deep chuckle rumbled in the hall. My heart rose to my throat, and I dove for the phone where it had landed on the rug. I managed to dial nine before Katie’s scream cut off. Palpable silence penetrated the room. My rapid breathing mixed with my sister’s, and I edged up onto shaking knees. Katie rolled onto her side with a twitch.
“Katie?” My voice came out as a squeak.
She snuggled into the pillow, and her breathing returned to normal. Okay. She was okay. I turned my attention to the space at the bottom of the door. There was probably no one out there anyway. My sister’s screams threw me off after a confusing night, that’s all. I was merely tired and scared and was likely imagining the whole thing.
But before I called anyone, I had to be sure.
With the phone clutched in my hand, I crawled across the room to where the bright yellow handle of Katie’s tennis racket leaned against the wall. I gripped the hard foam and held it to my shoulder. I didn’t want to leave Katie alone but what choice did I have? I couldn’t call for help if no one was out there. My mother would have a field day.
Clenching my jaw shut to keep my teeth from chattering, I dialed two one’s before opening the door. If anyone was on the other side, it would only take a single touch to call for help.
I eased out, holding the racket in front of me, and flicked on the hallway light. The stillness slammed into me like a brick wall. “Okay, okay, okay,” I chanted under my breath. This was stupid. And yet… at five-foot-three and a hundred and ten pounds, an intruder wouldn’t necessarily need to be armed to overpower me.
My nerves exploded with a burst of adrenaline, and I leapt from room to room until each light bulb on the second floor glowed. I checked every closet, under every bed. The racket shook in my hand. There was nothing. No one. An irrational spike of anger zipped through me at the possibility of my brain’s betrayal.
My body moved on its own accord, taking me downstairs one tentative step at a time. One million potential fates I might encounter, if there was someone lying in wait, coursed through my thoughts. The joints in my fingers locked around the phone with my thumb still over the green call button. My tongue was sandpaper against the roof of my mouth, and I crept through the living room.
The freezer was still open, rattling in an attempt to keep the internal temperature down. I chomped down on my lip and inched my way forward to shut it. The rarely-used alarm system beside the back door taunted me—if only I remembered the code.
It seemed like it took ages to finish searching the house. I looked everywhere from the coat closet to beneath the bathroom sink, but it had only been eleven minutes since I had woken up. No time at all, really. I gripped the back of a dining room chair to stay on my feet.
There was no intruder. Katie had a nightmare, and my mind deceived me.
Again.
Always.
Only this time, it wasn’t part of my subconscious. I wasn’t asleep. Katie had screamed. There was a blast of air. Someone had laughed.
I swallowed the fear rising in my chest.
No one believed they were crazy. I wasn’t sure what it meant if I thought I was unhinged but constantly persuaded myself to believe I wasn’t. Was I? Wasn’t I? Not even the doctors could agree on an answer. My sanity was a double-edged sword, and I was fighting to maintain balance on the tip.
I dashed back to Katie and climbed in bed beside her, nestling close. I tucked the wrinkled sheet around us both and tried to ignore the nausea curdling in my stomach. Katie was older than me, bolder and more confident, but in that moment, she felt as fragile as blown glass. I wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed my eyes shut. My ears strained to hear the slightest sound that could signal danger, but no one else was in the house.
No one had laughed.
The Sandman wasn’t real.
I balled the back of Katie’s T-shirt in my fist. He was real enough to me, and I needed him. Please, Sandman, I called in a silent plea for the second time tonight—the one only he could hear. Help me sleep.
About Amber:

Amber R. Duell was born and raised in a small town in Central New York. While it will always be home, she’s constantly moving with her husband and two sons as a military wife. Before becoming published, she had a wide range of occupations including banking, bartending (though she’s never tried alcohol), and phlebotomy (though she faints with needles). She also volunteered as a re-enactor at the local Revolutionary War fort and worked near shelter cats which led to her previous crazy cat lady status.

She does her best writing in the middle of the night, surviving the daylight hours with massive amounts of caffeine. Her favorite stories are dark with a touch of romance and a villain you either love to hate or hate to love.

 When not reading or writing, she enjoys snowboarding, embroidering, snuggling with her cat, and staying up way too late to research genealogy. She loves to travel and has visited more countries than states. Kissing the Blarney Stone and hand-feeding monkeys in the mountains of France will be hard to beat, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to find the next real-life adventure.

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will win a $10 Amazon Gift Card, INTERNATIONAL.




Advice from A Jilted Bride & Birth of A Baby Daddy by Piper Rayne - Cover Reveals

   

 

What’s a girl to do after being ditched at the altar by text message? That’s right. Text. Message. How does she pick up the pieces and move on? I’m no Dear Abby but here’s a little free advice… Advice #1 – First, purge your apartment of all things him—by tossing his belongings off the balcony. Advice #2 – Do not, I repeat do not, throw anything out into the hallway because you’ll injure your hot new neighbor. Advice #3 – When said neighbor brings over Chinese Food do not let him stay and keep you company. It’s awkward when you realize he’s your boss. Advice #4 – Accept his offer to help you with your side business but think twice before using a date to his sister’s wedding as collateral. Advice #5 – Investigate who your mystery neighbor really is. Don’t trust his word even if he’s the world’s best kisser. If you listen to nothing else, pay attention to that last one. It’s the most important and will save you a lot of heartache. Xo, LOVESICK IN LAKE STARLIGHT   ADD TO GOODREADS  

PREORDER NOW

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Apple Books |

B & N | Kobo | Google Play

     

If you’re having fun living your bachelor life in your Alaskan hometown and out of nowhere a woman shows up holding a baby she insists is yours, you need a plan—a birth plan. BP Step #1 – Lift your jaw off the floor. BP Step #2 – Figure out the baby’s age—do the math. BP Step #3 – Try to remember the woman and with any luck, her name. BP Step #4 – Double check that she’s not confusing you with your twin brother. BP Step #5 – Ignore your five sister’s scowls as your entire family watches the drama unfold. There’s only one thing you shouldn’t do. BP Step #6 – Don’t assume she’s there because she wants your daughter to call you Daddy. You’ll only end up disappointed. Time to figure out a new plan—one that changes her mind. ADD TO GOODREADS  

PREORDER NOW

APPLE BOOKS | B&N | KOBO

AMAZON COMING SOON

         


Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one. Our goal is to bring you romance stories that have "Heartwarming Humor With a Side of Sizzle" (okay...you caught us, that's our tagline). A little about us... We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too. Goodreads | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest | Bookbub | Website Join our newsletter and get 2 FREE BOOKS! Be one of our unicor

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Release Blitz: SECOND CHANCE by L.B. Dunbar

SC_RELEASE BLITZ.jpg

Second Chance, an all-new sexy, silver fox standalone from L.B. Dunbar is available now!

SecondChance-Amazon.jpg
Her.

A widow at forty-four, her husband left her a letter.
Contact Denton.
Once upon a time, the three of them had been best friends.
Mati Rath isn’t sure she should look back.
Her heart isn’t ready, or so she thinks.
Him.
A pleading phone call forces him to make a decision.
I’ll be there.
Yet, he hasn’t been home in twenty-seven years.
Denton Chance isn’t sure he should return.
The past still haunts his heart.
A desire that never left them, along with circumstances beyond their control, brings the past to the present.
Can one sexy silver fox face the woman he once left behind but never let go?
Sometimes love deserves a second chance.


SC_AVAILABLE NOW.jpg

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2zPTqEX



About L.B. Dunbar
I’ve been accused of having an over-active imagination. To my benefit, this imagination has created over twenty novels, including the creation of a small-town world (Sensations Collection), rock star mayhem (Legendary Rock Star series), MMA chaos (Paradise Stories), rom-com for the over forty (The Sex Education of M.E.), and a suspenseful island for redemption (The Island Duet). My alter ego, elda lore, creates magical romance through mythological retellings (Modern Descendants). My life revolves around a deep love of reading about fairy tales, medieval knights, regency debauchery, and strong alpha males. I love a deep belly laugh, a strong hug, and an occasional margarita. My other loves include being mother to four grown children and wife to the one and only.
LBDunbar.jpg


Connected with L.B. Dunbar
Stay up to date with L.B. by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2SW11JD

COVER REVEAL - Branded by Clarissa Wild




Title: Branded
Series: Savage Men #4
Author: Clarissa Wild
Genre: Standalone Dark Romance
Cover Design: Clarissa Wild's Blooming Covers
Release Date: February 4, 2019



Blurb

She was supposed to be my forever.
Instead, I became her worst enemy.


I fell for the one girl I could never have…
And it destroyed us both.
I did a bad, bad thing.
But she isn’t exactly innocent either.
When I’m faced with the ultimate choice – Let her die or save her – I grab her and run.
She calls me a monster. The devil himself.
No one will take her from me.
She’s mine to punish.
Mine to keep… forever.

Note: This STANDALONE novel contains disturbing content that may be offensive to some readers. No Cliffhanger. Book 4 in the Savage Men Series.












Excerpt

Suddenly, something touches my shoulder, and I freak out.
I shriek, but my voice is blocked by a hand covering my mouth.
Adrenaline fills my veins, panic bubbling to the surface. I try to spin on my chair, but can’t, because someone’s holding me down firmly. Strong arms with a scent that reminds me of … soot.
“It’s me, don’t scream,” he whispers.
It’s Brandon.
He leans back and I immediately stand up and turn to face him. “Brandon! Jesus.”
“Sorry. Didn’t wanna scare you,” he says, a little too loud.
I close my eyes and let out a sigh. “God, could you’ve been anymore creepy?”
“I could … If I wanted to,” he says, raising one brow, mocking me.
I narrow my eyes, but my body remains rigid. Tense. It’s like my brain has already decided for me that I can’t trust him. At least, not after what happened at the bonfire. “What are you doing here?” I whisper, still upset that he jumped on me like that. And even though he says I shouldn’t be scared, my skin still prickles where he touched me.
“I just wanted to see you, that’s all,” he says with a way too cocky voice.
“Shh …” I say. “Quiet. We’re close to the farmhouse.”
He shrugs. “So?”
“I don’t want my dad to hear us. He’s in there with my brothers.”
“Ahh …” He takes a step towards me. “You’re afraid he’ll find us here … together?”
“Duh. You shouldn’t be here,” I say, leaning back, as if I instinctively know not to let him get close. I don’t know why, but … it feels different. Like I’m playing with fire and I don’t wanna get burned.
When he tries to caress my cheek, I turn my face slightly. He pauses. “Are you … afraid of me?”
Maybe. I don’t know the answer. I feel like I should. What he did was wrong. Horrible.
But I know why he did it.
After all those years of Derek tormenting Brandon, he was bound to explode. But I never expected it to be this uncontrollable, this explosive. This … dangerous.
“Should I be?” I ask, licking my lips.
The half-smile that forms on his face has my heart skipping a beat. Fuck. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. Not when he’s like this … so volatile and aggressive … and sexy.
“I can’t answer that for you,” he says after a while. He places his hands on the workbench, trapping me inside. “I don’t want you to be, though.”
“That’s easy for you to say …” I whisper, looking down at my feet. Jesus. Why am I such a pussy when it comes to him? I should speak up, for fuck’s sake. Stop being a fucking whimpering virgin who can’t handle a little touchy feely.
“Hey …” He tips up my chin with one finger. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
I nod softly, as if he just asked me whether or not I believe him. I’m not even sure I do. I just know I want to, for my sake … and for his.
“But … what happened at the bonfire …” I mutter.
I don’t know how to begin my sentence or how to end it. Just like I don’t know where we began and where we should end.
Maybe now.
Maybe never.
Shit.
Why do I feel this way around him?
Why is it that when a guy loses control, I want him even more?
Am I that obsessed with bad boys? Jesus, help me.






Author Bio


Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of Dark Romance and Contemporary Romance novels. She is an avid reader and writer of swoony stories about dangerous men and feisty women. Her other loves include her hilarious husband, her two crazy but cute dogs, and her ninja cat that sometimes thinks he's a dog too. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, playing video games, reading tons of books, and cooking her favorite meals.


Want to get an email when my next book is released? Sign up here to receive 4 FREE short stories: http://eepurl.com/FdY71 


Author Links

VBT # Review: Work in Progress - Staci Hart


Related image

Work in Progress

Review: Work in Progress - Staci Hart - January 2019
Though this book can be read as a standalone, it is part of what is called The Red Lipstick Club as we are reunited with our group of favorite flatmates from Rin, Val, Katherine, and Amelia. Work in Progress is Amelia's story.  I have to admit; I love this series as I feel connected in one way or another with all the characters from Rin being into Art to Katherine whom the next book will be working in a library to Amelia whom this book is about being a book blogger like myself. I loved this book which in a way I knew I would as I have not found a Staci Hart book that I haven't in one way or another enjoyed. My only qualm is that the Thomas Bane on the cover here is not how I imagined him as I hate guys with long hair, it just doesn't do anything for me, and the guy on the cover looks more like a greasy rockstar rather than a writer hottie. Amelia is the type of girl whom being introverted was coined for - she hates crowds, finds being around people nervewracking and stumbles over her words. She loves hiding behind a screen as that's when her voice takes over and becomes alive. One of her authors that she loves to hate is Thomas Bane, and when she gets the chance to meet him, she finds herself falling down the rabbit hole as she goes from the stranger who reviewed his books harshly to his fake wife almost instantly. Needing to up his reputation, he employs Amelia. Of course, we all know how the story will end as it tends to work out with fake romance tales. I think the reason I enjoyed this book more than other fake romances was because I connected with Amelia's character in more than way. During the last few pages, we are given a glimpse to the next book - Katherine's story which I admitted, I was like OMG I can't wait. I am however going to have to work my way back as I have seemed to have somehow missed Val and Sam's story. Work in Progress is the perfect read for those true book bloggers all around the world as in a way; this story is our fantasy.





You Might Like :

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...