Monday, August 31, 2015

**Cover Reveal** Sentenced

Title: Sentenced
Author: L.L. Collins
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Erotic Romance
Cover Design: Marisa-Rose Shor with Cover Me, Darling
 Release Date: October/November 2015 (TBD)


THE BAD BOY: I’m Johnny. An ex-con with a bad attitude and a controlling demeanor that somehow made the women flock to my bed but never my heart. It was unavailable for possession.

THE TEMPTATION: She was just supposed to be a two day hookup. But one taste of her and I knew I was in danger of never getting enough. She has her own demons to contend with, and dealing with my own was hard enough. I won’t allow temptation to take control of me.

THE SENTENCE: I'd given myself a life sentence a long time ago, and she made me want things I wouldn't allow myself to have. Giving into it just might destroy us both.

Author Bio

L.L. Collins loves spending her days in the Florida sun with her husband and two boys, reading, and writing. LL has been writing since she was old enough to write. Always a story in her head, she finally decided to let the characters out made her lifelong dream of becoming an author come true in the self-publishing world. She's the author of the Living Again Series and the Twisted Series, plus a new standalone, Back to the Drawing Board. Visit LL on her website, and on all social media. Look for more of her emotionally charged novels soon!

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I have always had a passion for storytelling, whether it be through lyrics or bed time stories with my sisters. I wanted to be an actress growing up so I could live many roles but I learned early on that my mind was too active… I would want to change the script.I would watch films and think of ways they could have improved the story if they took another direction so i thought it best that i tell my own.
My mum would always have a book in her hand when I was young and passed on her love for reading, inspiring me to venture into writing my own. I tend to have a darker edge to my writing. Not all love stories are made from light, some are created in darkness but are just as powerful and worth telling.
When I’m not lost in the world of characters I love spending time with my family. I’m a mum and that comes first in my life but when I do get down time I love attending music concerts or reading events with my younger sister.
You can find me on Facebook where I love interacting with my readers.
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**Release Blitz & Giveaway** DEGRADE

Title: Degrade
Series: Flawed
Author: T.L. Smith
 Release Date: August 31, 2015



One rule, only one rule women need to follow when they're with me.

Don’t ask for more.

This rule is in place for a reason, you won't get more of what’s not there to give.


He is striking, and he's all man. He is also the devil, or so I believe him to be. I gave him my heart, not realizing I was doing so. He likes to break me down, so I'm a shell of the person I once was. He's chipping away at me, bit by bit. Though I’m not as weak as he thinks, and when I can’t handle it anymore, I will come back swinging.

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I’m an idiot, I know this. I just can’t help myself. When it comes to him, I do as he says, do as he pleases. Even if it’s against everything, I believe in. He has a hold on me, which no other person has ever held. I don’t believe he loves me, but I love him. So that has to count for something? Right? My love is big enough. I believe it can hold onto both of us and wrap us up in a vice grip. See, I did tell you, I’m an idiot.

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**Blog Tour** 13 Stolen Girls

About the Book
Title: 13 Stolen Girls
Author: Gil Reavill
Genre: Mystery / Thriller
Perfect for fans of Michael Connelly's Bosch series, Gil Reavill's gripping new Layla Remington thriller plunges readers beneath the glittering facade of Hollywood and into a terrifying underworld where beautiful women can 
just . . . disappear.
     Malibu is crumbling. A monster earthquake has just ripped apart some of the priciest real estate on the planet. In a bizarre twist, it has also exposed a grisly tableau buried for years beneath one particularly unstable hilltop: a steel barrel containing the mummified remains of Tarin Mistry, the beautiful starlet who went missing a decade ago. When Detective Investigator Layla Remington looks into that wretched metal coffin, she realizes she's just landed the case of a lifetime. 

     But before Layla even strips off her latex gloves, a pair of hotshot LAPD detectives arrive on the scene and pull her off the investigation. Undeterred, Layla pursues her own line of inquiry, risking her badge and her life to track down Tarin's murderer: from the rarified air of exclusive canyon communities to seedy sex clubs downtown, all the way to the secluded lair of one of Hollywood's most powerful men. But while Tarin's a cold case, her killer is poised to strike again--and, in Layla, this depraved sociopath has just found fresh prey.

Book Excerpt:
The Corean master took a break from his emergency-service work on the Malibu earthquake. He went grocery shopping and returned with his purchases to the apartment building on Jane Street.
The hallway that led to 3C exhibited the kind of banal environment he preferred. The Sheetrock walls had a knockdown finish. The rug-makers had designed the durable frieze carpet not to show stains. Fluorescent lighting rendered everything in a nicely sick shade of lime-white. He relished such places in the same way that a chameleon favors a green leaf.
The triple locks on 3C’s cast-aluminum door seemed to be the only feature that set it apart from the forty-eight other apartments in the complex. The locks, plus the privacy/security film on the windows. And, yes, another oddity about 3C: the adjacent apartments, eight in all, had been left vacant. Because sound—weeping, moaning, screaming—travels.
Once inside, the Corean master set his groceries on the kitchen counter. Recently, he had resolved to treat his body better. No more of the sugar-and-fat junk food on which he had gorged in the past. The paper bag from the local Food Depot spilled over with produce, tomatoes, plums, Romaine lettuce. The bread was whole grain.
He felt a little impatient with himself, since he had often embarked on new healthy diets before, only to see the fruits and vegetables he bought rot in the refrigerator. This time would be different.
The apartment carried over the predictable decorating themes of the hall, with more white drywall, more industrial carpet, more innocuous lighting fixtures. The place barely looked lived in. Which made sense, since no one really did. Apartment 3C was just one of the Corean master’s many apartments scattered around the Valley suburbs of Reseda, Canoga Park and Woodland Hills, California, all communities that were just over the foothills from his Malibu ranch.
Building management, the Corean master thought, not for the first time, represented the perfect sideline for a man of his interests. He had his fingers in a lot of pies, but among his numerous business perks one of the most useful, he felt, was his ability to gain access to empty apartments all across the area’s heavily developed suburban landscape.
Partially visible through the open door of the first bedroom, his current slave was splayed out in a special rig of the master’s own devising. He had not only drawn the plans for it but had fabricated the device himself. The circular steel hoop had a radius of nine feet, suspended within a sturdy frame, which was anchor-bolted to the floor, wall and ceiling.
The master had fastened his unclothed, blindfolded and gagged submissive to the steel hoop by means of fur-lined leather cuffs and lightweight aluminum chains. The hoop rotated within the frame on industrial-strength ball bearings, providing all-direction access. In his magnificent, masterful generosity, he had allowed the slave to remain upright when he left for work and shopping, its arms secured at the ten and two o’clock positions, legs at seven and five.
Through his angled view of the bedroom, cut off and limited by the doorframe, the master saw that its thin, bony body had sagged a bit within the rig. One reason he liked this slave was that it had gone through some sort of auto accident and its skin was covered over with surgical scars.
Now it made no sound. He wondered if it might have fallen into an exhausted sleep.
He looked more closely.
Something was wrong.
Disliking the cheap orange ball gags sold in sex shops, the Corean master had painstakingly fashioned one himself, using an ivory death’s-head originally intended as a custom shift knob for a manual automobile transmission. It wasn’t real ivory, of course, just plastic, but it looked fierce and served its purpose.
Usually he would hear the thin wheeze of ball-gag-obstructed breath from his slave. He heard nothing.
A squeeze of fear nearly took his own breath away. Something had happened while he was gone. He hated not being in control. Stress stressed him out.
So, okay. No need to get upset. Just breathe. Of all the activities in the world, what worked to soothe him most? Why, the same thrill available right there, with the slave behind door number one. They were headed together toward the Ultimate Consumation.
Eat, shower, gear up, then stride in and wake it up with a good, furious twirl of the hoop. Rotate it long enough, fast enough, and it lost all sense of direction, of time, all sense of itself, really. There was no danger that it would lose its lunch, since he hadn’t fed it for days.
The master removed his T-shirt as he strode down the hall. He would put on his bulldog harness and his U.S. Marines jockstrap. He wanted the slave to see him in his full Corean regalia when it woke up. But as he passed the bedroom the sagging posture of the slave struck him once again.
Now real panic seized him.
He entered the bedroom, crossed to the hoop and grabbed the slave by the jaw, pulling its head upward. But his hand jerked away as if he had touched a hot stove.
The skin was cold and clammy, the body limp. The slave was gone.
The Corean master’s stunned surprise was immediately overwhelmed by rage. She had cheated him, the little bitch! The horror of what had happened stalled out his mind. She had gained the upper hand. Somehow, the slave had proved the master.
He had been so careful, so meticulous. What had gone wrong?
He reached out a trembling hand, extending two fingers, middle and fore, to feel her neck for a pulse. Nothing. It was really true.
“Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!” he barked.
Though he could hardly think, he slowly grasped what had happened. She had worked her head up through the restraints. It must have been an agonizing process. The head harness was cinched tight. But somehow she had gotten it so that one leather strap circled her neck.
Then the girl had strangled herself.
Strangled herself. He should never have left the bitch alone.
The Corean master considered himself something of an anatomical expert. He understood that normally it was a physical impossibility for a human being to self-asphyxiate. Yes, one can hang oneself, that happened all the time. That was gravity doing the job. But it wasn’t what had occurred here. There was plenty of give in the restraint strap. It was sized for a head and hung loosely around the throat.
This creature, this rancid little whore, this bound-and-gagged swindler had accomplished an unachievable feat. She had pushed her windpipe against the strap and held it there long enough to die.
It was an act of defiance.
The Corean master tried to remember her name, her real name, not her slave name. Marjorie? MaryAnn? Something with an “M.”
An ugly, weak feeling took over his groin, familiar in his youth but since then exiled from his life by sheer determination. He felt his member shrivel. She had robbed him of his manhood.
After he went to the toilet and vomited, he returned to the kitchen. He intentionally avoided glancing into the first bedroom as he passed. Let her rot. He opened the refrigerator and took out one of the peach wine coolers that he so loved.
He was back to square one. He would have to start again. Again, again, again. So many do-overs!
The Corean master made a promise to himself. He would find the perfect one. He would finally accomplish what he had been put on earth to do.
He would create his masterpiece.

Author Bio
Gil Reavill is a journalist, screenwriter, and playwright. Widely featured in magazines, Reavill is the author of a crime novel, Thirteen Hollywood Apes, nominated for a Thriller Award from International Thriller Writers. He has written two works of crime non-fiction: Mafia Summit: J. Edgar Hoover, the Kennedy Brothers, and the Meeting That Unmasked the Mob, and Aftermath, Inc.: Cleaning Up After CSI Goes Home. He also co-wrote the screenplay for the 2006 film Dirty, starring Cuba Gooding, Jr. He lives in New York with his wife, the author Jean Zimmerman, and their daughter.


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Thursday, August 27, 2015

**Cover Reveal** Trigger (Pericolo Series 2.5)

Title: Trigger (Pericolo #2.5)
Author: Kirsty-Anne Still
Release Date: Sept 18, 2015
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I used to watch her through the lights. I watched as her body turned and twisted as she morphed into my siren.

I wanted her—I craved every ounce of Ryleigh Turner. But I knew once I had her, all I would do was corrupt every inch of her pretty little soul.

Valentinos aren't made for tales of love. We star in the horror stories you fear.

We're the monsters that make you scared to ever hope again.

It's time that she realises that.


He's watched me for months, given me every reason to allow my curiosity to start killing me slowly.

He makes the world melt away; he makes me want to throw all my inhibitions away and greet him personally. But every time the music ends and the lights lift, he vanishes, crushing my hopes.

Until one day, a moment of chance happens.

How does a man like Dante Valentino cope with a woman as messed up as me?


I let him have every inch of my tainted soul.


Not all love stories have a beautiful start.
Some just need a perfect trigger.

**This is a dark romance with intense scenes of murder and sex. There is coarse language used throughout. Not for the faint hearted.
"This curiosity will be the death of you,” he mutters, a mirthful tune to his voice. “Trust me, you don't want to know more," he tells me, lowering his tone once more in the hope his darkened stance will scare me off a little. "I am not the sort of man you want in your life."
"Don't sound so certain you know me," I quip, daring him. "Don't ever assume you know me."
"Oh, I know you alright," he starts to tell me. "I know you're a survivor, which makes you inquisitive. It, also, makes you stupid and believe you're invincible. Which you're not. You believe you can handle more than most think you can."
"I can handle more than most," I finalise, a defiant fire beginning to build within me.
"Then prove it."
I can tell by the look on his face the line escapes him way before he could possibly stop it. I have also noticed I seem to make him uncomfortable, as if I send him into a frenzy, and without knowing it, I challenge him.
“Okay,” I whisper, and I hear Jackson swear from behind us. I close my eyes, steadying my breath before I continue, begging my harsher self to come to light. “Just tell me how.”
There’s a deliberate silence that settles around us like dust calming in the air. There’s background noise, traffic in the distance, but between Dante and I there’s nothing as he mulls over what he could possibly challenge me with.
“I have an idea,” Dante suddenly says, striking upon an idea.
“What’s that?” I ask, matching his confidence.
"What do you say, Ryleigh?" he asks rhetorically, reaching out to cup my jaw. Unconsciously, I tilt my head into his hold, my eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the touch. "Fancy joining the dark side?"
"Dante," Jackson interjects. I sense him move forward, trying to play nice and talk Dante down off a fiery ledge. "Don't do this. Ryleigh is just a girl from the club. She's not cut out for what you have in mind."
I notice he daren't take his eyes away from mine. I notice he’s beguiled by me and I think it has something to do with the constant spark of curiosity I haven’t managed to shake when around him. I was always told I had an overwhelming sense of defiance that kept me from running from potentially dangerous situations – ones like the one right now.
"What do you say, Ryleigh?" he asks, ignoring Jackson. "Fancy trying to keep up with the big boys?"
I remember once before being called crazy because I took on a high school bully. He was twice my size, two years older and would’ve taken me down with one poke, but I still took him on, still challenged him, and never backed down.
That same adrenaline rush has been dormant for years. I’ve had no stimulation to arouse it, no reason to feel it pulsate my veins and make me feel alive – until now. The danger that Dante is swathed in is alluring and makes me become a dare devil. He triggers something in me. He’s a spark I forgot I needed and he’s a flame I know that will only burn me, but I don’t care. I want to burn bright for a little while and I know he’s my only option.
And for some strange reason, my primal need and small amount of knowledge of Dante clash together and I know he’ll be more than a beautiful downfall to me. I know he’ll give me a chance to be free, to sneak a way to shed myself of the pain I allow to follow me. I know he’ll be beautifully damaging to my conscience and I’ll never turn back without regret.
Call me crazy, but Dante Valentino feels like the best worst decision a girl could make.
“Do your worst,” I reply.
I used to be just another Fanfiction writer! That was until one person showed real interest in my work. And then another, and then another, until I had this whole group of people reviewing like crazy and wanting original work from me. I’d spent years writing for free online, I didn’t believe I had it in me to publish something!

But I’m glad I did!! I never imagined pushing my work and striving to reach my ultimate. I never imagined I’d be the girl who started The Viper Rooms! But who am I to deny the inspiration when it hits?

I love writing, it’s a lifeline. I love creating a world that others fall into. I love having the control to make a whole new world. It’s like a dependency, an addictive one. It’s one of the things I’m extremely proud of.

As much as I complain, I love the mini dialogues that go on in my head, the plotlines that attack me when I least expect them to. The ones that jump to life at the most inappropriate times and drive me totally crazy!!

For now I split my life between writing, dreaming, working, and volunteering with children.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

**Blog Tour** Over Your Dead Body

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Book Title: Over Your Dead Body 
Author: Roisin Black 
Genre: Gay Romance 
Release Date: September 2014 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

Ryan Kennedy is the definition of tall, dark and handsome and along with his success, he seems to have it all. However, Ryan is a man haunted by the past. The time has now come for him to face all that happened before and to finally try and put the past to rest.

After eleven long years he has returned home to the wild beauty of the West of Ireland coastline, to a place that formed him in so many unimaginable ways. He must reach out to those who hurt him the most and lay his heart on the line but these were the people who destroyed him before and will seeing them again prove his salvation or his ultimate undoing.


"Was there a whisper of sorry in that smile for the night you beat me unconscious or was there a hint of self-righteousness, that you knew you had done the right thing. Whatever it was I couldn't rightly tell because I knew you were referring to that night and I was totally taken aback because I thought there was an unspoken agreement between us to never mention it. Did you believe you had scared me so shitless the last thing I would ever think about again was kissing a guy or were you sorry at having "lost it" over something that was obviously a teenage aberration and realised you needn't have worried, your son was one hundred per cent heterosexual after all?"


The Other Path

Book Trailer


When or at what age did you know you wanted to be a writer?

I was always a storyteller and as I grew up I realised I could marry my ability with the English language to all the stories roaming around my head and get them down on paper. At about ten years of age I was producing little homemade "books" and at fourteen I even "launched" a local magazine! I didn't think of writing as a viable career until my mid-twenties when I became a journalist but that didn't provide enough of an outlet for my imagination, so I eventually decided to focus on writing books.

What is the earliest age you remember reading your first book?

My earliest memory is of reading Robin Hood. I remember the description of him being dressed in "lincoln green" and wondering what sort of green that was! I was most troubled by this. I'd say I was about seven at the time. The book was a present from Santa Claus and it was my first book with no pictures. I can't tell you how disgusted I was at Santa for bringing me a book with no pictures!

What genre of books do you enjoy reading?

Traditionally I love crime fiction and I always thought that would be what I would write so no-one is more surprised than me that the first three stories I have written have nothing to do with crime fiction! In recent years I have been reading a lot of romance and romantic suspense - which I really enjoy. I also love the classics - anything by Jane Austen, The Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy etc. I adore beautifully written books so will often have a look at the writers listed for big international literary prizes and check out the books. This is how I came to read Atonement by Ian McEwan, one of my favourite books. I also love reading collections of poetry - Yeats, Kavanagh, Seamus Heaney.

What is your favourite book?

Book? Do I have to pick just one? Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams. The Hunger Games trilogy and The Twilight series. Some recent favourites are Archer's Voice by Mia Sheridan and Consolation & Conviction by Corinne Michaels.

You know I think we all have a favourite author. Who is your favourite author and why?

I love Ian McEwan for the richness of his prose and imagery. Kaylea Cross for her tight plots, thorough research and great sex scenes. Suzanne Collins for her brutal and unflinching subject matter. Thomas Hardy for his beautiful imagery, George R.R. Martin for his incredible world-building and Stieg Larsson for Lisbeth Salander. Mia Sheridan, Corinne Michaels, Kristen Ashley and Jasinda Wilder for their wonderful characters, great storylines and depth of character.

If you could travel back in time here on earth to any place or time. Where would you go and why?

I'd go back to London 1938 and tell, the then British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain just how Adolf Hitler and Nazism were going to pan out and that he needs to abandon appeasement and take action.

When writing a book do you find that writing comes easy for you or is it a difficult task?

Finding the time to write and being able to get into the right headspace is difficult - never the writing itself.

Do you have any little fuzzy friends? Like a dog or a cat? Or any pets?

Oh Yes! I'm a dog nut! I adore my dogs! At the moment I just have Miss Billie - a lab collie cross and a huge character - loved by all who meet her. I still miss my old girl Zara, an amazing German Shepherd who was in my life for over ten years. Dogs will feature heavily in my next two stories.

What is your "to die for", favorite food/foods to eat?

Oh this is easy! Fresh Atlantic lobster plucked from the pristine waters of the west of Ireland, served with lemon or garlic butter. New potatoes freshly dug from my dad's garden and his sweet carrots and my mother's scones and apple pies are unbeatable.

Do you have any advice for anyone that would like to be an author?

Not to be all "famous sport's brand" about this but just do it! I'd also say don't waste your precious time with traditional / legacy publishers. Indie publishing is the way to go - if you are a success then the legacy publishers will come looking for you and that's the way to have them.

Meet the Author

Róisín Black comes from the West of Ireland, a place where storytelling is a way of life. She's a dreamer, a wanderer and a writer. In amongst extensive wandering and dreaming she has managed to carve out a successful career as a journalist, hold-down a marriage, produce two amazing children and spend her time with some pretty cool dogs. She currently lives in Queensland, Australia but probably not for long.....

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