Monday, November 30, 2015

The second stand-alone book in the Heaven over Hell trilogy. Tell the truth, the devil won't by Colette Harrel.

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 Book Title: Tell The Truth; The Devil Won't Genre: Christian Fiction Paperback: 288 pages Publisher: Urban Christian (October 27, 2015) ISBN-10: 1622868196 ISBN-13: 978-1622868193 Publication Date: October 27, 2015 Author: Colette Harrell   


  About The Book 

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 From the author of The Devil Made Me Do It The full-figured Esther Redding doesn’t realize it, but she desperately needs a change. Her Cinderella tiara is tarnished, and her glass slippers cracked. No longer any one’s knight in shining armor, Briggs Stokes always had a soft spot for Esther. She was in his blood, and he didn’t want a transfusion. When he returns to Detroit, he decides that nothing will keep him from her door. Well, nothing . . . but the once reformed bad girl, Monica Stokes Hawthorne, Briggs’s ex, who wants to be his—give me one more chance, again—wife. The resulting tug-of-war that ensues may be the catalyst that destroys the person they both love the most. More than one household is upset when the prison doors swing open and a “rehabilitated” Roger, Esther’s ex, returns home. Following Roger is a sinister force so malicious that no one in their community will be left untouched. When truth is held hostage by lies, mayhem ensues. And when it does, the lives of Esther, Briggs, Monica, and Roger are forever changed. Don’t blink—pray—these shenanigans are too shocking to miss . . . The second stand-alone book in the Heaven over Hell trilogy.   

  About The Author 

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Colette R. Harrell, Christian Fiction Author Colette Harrell, wants you to know that she’s like you, God’s chosen vessel. She has come to be a gift, to be an encourager and a light that reflects God’s goodness. She’s a wife, mother, author and playwright. A Detroit native, she currently calls Ohio home. She holds a master’s and is a Director of Social Services. Writing with humor and compassion to engage and minister to the human heart. Her motto is: whatever you do, do it “for love alone.” Her newest novel, Devil Get Behind Me! Will thrill this January 2016. It is filled with wisdom and humor. This adventourous love story goes where Ms. Harrell loves to tread, down an unbeaten path. No millionaires rescuing damsels in distress—although she enjoys these reads herself—but real people, falling and getting back up. The Devil Made Me Do It was her debut novel. It was Nominated for First Fiction for the Phyllis Wheatley Book Award. It has been held as one of Black Pearl Magazine’s, top ten Christian fiction books for 2014. And, Read Between The Lines radio show, named it as one of its overall top ten books for 2014. Her sophomore novel, Tell The Truth, The Devil Won’t will cement her as an author to watch.

Excerpt
Chapter One 

It was dead cold. The air crackled with the sound of ice-covered tree branches crashing onto cement sidewalks; it was an unnatural arctic day, even for Harlem. There were motorists stranded on every major highway as an epic ice storm settled over the length of New York City. And while the air over those highways was filled with road rage, explicit language, and hunger pains, the contrasting hush of the opulent brownstones on 132nd Street was shattered by an eerie scream that filled the bitter air. Monica Hawthorne, the ex-Mrs. Briggs Stokes, stood shaking uncontrollably. Her beloved, risked-everything she-had-to-have-him husband of one month, Randall, lay in a pool of blood on their imported Brazilian cherry kitchen floor. If Randall could, he would have stood up and told her for the tenth time that ten thousand dollars for a floor was too much, and just because she could buy it didn’t mean she had to. But Randall couldn’t utter a word. She watched horrified as his blood seeped into the natural grooves of the wood, giving credence to the fact that maybe the cost was too much. Monica blinked, but he wasn’t getting up or giving her advice about her newly acquired wealth, because standing over him was his newly divorced wife, the ex-Mrs. Meredith Hawthorne. This She-Spawn-from-the-Pits, with her six hundred-dollar hairdo mussed, her designer clothes askew, and her chest heaving in spastic breaths, clutched the knife that once protruded from Randall’s chest. Words of explanation weren’t necessary; the vivid picture painted its own morbid story. Monica was spellbound. She was in her own home. The ordeal of leaving one husband to claim another’s was behind her. The guilt had been laid aside. The shame stamped down, at least temporarily. It was Randall and her against the world. But it had all just changed drastically. Snapping to, Monica shrieked, “Oh sweet Jesus! What have you done? You crazy—!” Her cries were halted by the demented gleam in the ex-Mrs. Hawthorne’s eyes. The maniac’s focus switched from Randall to her, then back to Randall. Mrs. Hawthorne had gone mad, crazy, bonkers, craycray. Monica’s head hurt at the thought that she was still addressing this woman by what was rightfully her new name. It bore psychological study that she could only think of the witch as Mrs. Hawthorne. For over three years the woman had railed it at her, negating Monica’s right to ever wear the title. She’d stood in haughty arrogance and promised in divorce court that she would never relinquish it. At the time, Monica didn’t care; she felt Mrs. Hawthorne could keep the last name, as long as she had the man. Now she felt she had been short-sighted. If in the middle of a bloody rampage, she thought of her that way, then who was she? The murderous interloper looked on in glee as blood bubbled out of Randall’s mouth. Monica observed her spiteful approval as Randall’s hand feebly stretched over his wound, but failed in mustering the strength to staunch the flow of his river of life. His eyelids fluttered—pausing, fighting to focus as he scanned beyond Mrs. Hawthorne’s face. His eyes settled on Monica’s outstretched hands. “Randall,” Monica whispered. She swayed in agony. Time was grinding to a stop, like an old-fashioned watch discarded in a moth-eaten hope chest, it would soon end, and Randall would be done. She needed a way to get close to him, but Mrs. Hawthorne stood as she had for the last three years, directly in her path. Always . . . in my way. Rage bubbled into a go-for-broke moment. Monica launched forward and charged Mrs. Hawthorne with a Joan of Arc warrior’s roar. The sound of the impact and responding grunt was dulled by the body that crumpled to the floor. Monica gambled . . . and lost. Her body fell inches from Randall’s. Her hands bloodied, Mrs. Hawthorne rocked in despair. She had meant to take her time with the slut, but her offensive attack had taken her by surprise. Then . . . Monica moved. What she was witnessing had Mrs. Hawthorne’s keening wail ricochet throughout the spacious brownstone. She glowered in anguish, howling as Monica’s fingers inched toward Randall’s, and they entwined even in their near-death status. She watched in ghoulish repulsion as the almost loving tableau played out before her. Her eyebrows arched as she made out Monica’s pleading words, “Jesus, help us.” A rattle of air descended from Randall . . . and then stillness. In slow motion, Mrs. Hawthorne turned in robotic movements away from the scene. Her steps faltered when she heard Monica’s fading voice, “Father, why hast thou forsaken me?” The prophetic words washed over her as she stood in cold resolution. Shaking it off, she strutted away from the two people who had humiliated her in public and had caused her heart to bleed dry for three unbearable years. Randall had won his freedom, imprisoning her in her own madness in the process. She had sworn to Randall’s dying mother, there would be no divorce. Tears gathered at the end of her hawkish nose, dribbling onto her twice-a-week, spa-waxed upper lip, then streamed down her cosmetic-tightened neck. She was Mrs. Meredith Hawthorne, of the Hawthornes, and failure was foreign to her. In agony, she backtracked, and stumbled, tumbling over the bodies. Blindly, Meredith wiped her eyes, reared back, and spit in Monica’s face. Still feeling empty and unfulfilled, she stared, craving the ability to wake Monica and kill her again. Rising, she noted Randall’s discarded, prized Civil War-era, matching pearl- and jewel-handled knives. She blew a kiss at him, and left the knives there. It was only fitting Randall have ownership of what he demanded in the divorce decree. What better way to deliver his bounty, then to use it as the method of obliteration for both he and his tramp? Mrs. Hawthorne reached into her purse and pulled out her derringer. Acting as a lover whose desire is close to fulfillment, she caressed it. Her insides churning, she panted, taking one last glance at the co-conspirators to her destruction. She could answer Monica’s final question. God had forsaken Monica because she was a Delilah home wrecker. What Mrs. Hawthorne wanted to know, was why He had forsaken her. She lay the letters for her children—who never called—on the solid mahogany credenza, then her purse. All she’d had was the facade of a happy life. She’d paid for it in an avalanche of tears as she played dumb blonde to Randall’s neglect and numerous indiscretions over the years, anything to keep him home. And how had he repaid her? By falling for a nasty, ashy-prone, ghetto rat. The slut’s resulting pregnancy, and his request for a divorce, “so he could be happy” was the Joker’s wild card. How many wrongs was she expected to endure? She looked around and hiccupped laughter—a great-granddaughter of the confederacy ending up in a brownstone in Harlem? Well, rise up every long-buried plantation owner and move over. I’m coming in, and from this gaudy, overpriced slum. In the middle of her cynical chuckle, she bit her lip. She was stalling and knew it. The gun shook in her hands as she placed the barrel to her temple; lips pressed together, she focused on the brightness of the moon, brilliant against the frigid dark sky. The trigger was pulled, and the gun clattered to the ground. Once again blood seeped into the Brazilian cherry hardwood floor. It should now have been quiet in the apartment. Instead, after the booming sound of the gunshot, you could hear through the intercom three things: the startled cries of a newborn, a phone ringing, and a feeble whimper.   The air was clear and sweet with the aroma of citrus floral and the essence of myrrh. Large winged inhabitants fluttered about on missions of supreme purpose. Above, two hovered in midflight, one apparently holding the other from takeoff. “Why do you hold me, Zadkiel? I must go. Did you not hear Monica scream? I am hers, and she is mine. Monica thinks that God has forsaken her. I am here,” he bemoaned. What the guardian saw split him in two. He could not linger. Zadkiel pulled the guardian angel back, his wings clutched, and held him firm through the struggle. “Stand down. She cries out in fear, not faith. We are not charged to react to tears, but we are rewarders of faith. What is occurring is heartbreaking, but you have not been given leave to interfere.” The guardian wanted to push at Zadkiel’s wings, but that would have been disrespectful. “Oh, why do the humans act this way? Must they torment and cause such pain to each other? They have left a child and though Monica has not been innocent for many years, her screams of pain bring too many hurtful emotions to the forefront. How can you float above it all?” “I am not above anything, but we must be obedient to our Lord of Hosts. He has not given us permission to intervene; a greater good must be coming.” Zadkiel then telepathically shared with him how he kept the sounds of Randall’s and Monica’s pain in the background of his thoughts. “I am empathetic to your feelings. I have learned that our God knows all and His will is the only way. He did not create this mess, but He will make a way out for the innocent babe. Go sing a song of praise. It will ease your soul.” Large expansive wings flapped in decisive strokes as a voice of power and beauty soared over majestic heads. As other voices joined in song, the angelic choir trumpeted the holiness and sovereignty of God. Contrary to the chaos, He continued to reign. In another realm, the gates of hell rattled in anticipation of the eventual capture and consumption of the new souls. It was a two-course meal: adulterer and murderer, their favorites.

Connect Socially Website: http://www.writespirit.org/ColetteHarrell/ Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Colette.R.Harrell Twitter: https://twitter.com/ColetteRHarrell

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Monday, November 23, 2015

One with the darkness by Susan Squires. A Regency Paranormal Romance.

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – One With the Darkness SERIES – The Companion Series AUTHOR – Susan Squires GENRE – Regency Paranormal Romance PUBLICATION DATE – October 6, 2015 LENGTH – 341 pages PUBLISHER – Independent COVER ARTIST – Rebecca Poole, Dreams2Media

BOOK SYNOPSIS

New York Times bestselling author Susan Squires invites you into the world of two lovers who share a seductive past and a dangerous desire…
DIVIDED BY CENTURIES
Contessa Donnatella di Poliziano has power, beauty, and—as a vampire—eternal life. Her overwhelming regret is a mistake she made centuries ago when she chose not to transform her one true love, Jergan, into a vampire too. Donnatella’s choice has deprived her of the only true love she’s ever known. But just as all seems lost, the discovery of a 300-year-old note leads her to a gift left by her old friend, Leonardo da Vinci: a machine to take her back in time to rewrite the history of her heart…
UNITED BY OTHERWORLDLY DESIRE
Once back in time, Donnatella’s memory of the intervening years is lost. Yet when she sees the breathtaking barbarian slave, Jergan, from afar, she feels like she has always known him. The instant attraction she feels draws them together. For Donnatella, the romance is tantalizing, awakening a passion that feels both old and new. But as the two fall in love again, a new danger threatens to tear them apart. Now Jergan’s love for Donnatella will be tested in a most perilous way—and if he fails, the two lovers will be separated again…for eternity.
Blog Comments
“Squires combines extreme sensuality with dangerous drama.” —Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“ONE WITH THE DARKNESS is one of the finest, innovative vampire novels I've read.” --Romance Junkies

BUY & TBR LINKS


One with the Darkness - 3D

EXCERPT

“Let me get your property, my lady,” the trader said. They turned to the back of the stall. Three men clustered round the straining barbarian, laughing as he tried to twist away. Blood dripped from his wrists where he had pulled against his shackles. He spat at them. It was his only means of defiance.
Graccus wiped his face and laughed. “Oh, he’ll be a joy to break.”
“I agree,” she said. The three yanked their gazes up, as did the barbarian. He flushed in shame. “Now unhand my new slave, sirs, so I may begin.”
“What? But I am buying him for my brothel!”
She waved the receipt scroll. “Too late.” Her She turned to the trader. “For the price I just paid, you can throw in a pair of shackles.” The trader nodded and clapped his hands. Slaves appeared with the required bindings. They unlocked the barbarian’s wrists from the poles and chained them behind his back before they released his feet. His ankles, too, were bloodied. Those green eyes stared at her, burning with intensity, as though he was still not sure what had just happened to him. Excitement churned inside her. This was the start of something—she didn’t know quite what. “Come quietly, slave,” she ordered, putting all the force of her personality behind her words, just shy of raising her Companion for compulsion. “You two—see that he does.” Two of Titus’s bodyguards nodded. Each took one of the slave’s arms and dragged him forward.
“You knew I wanted him,” Graccus was saying. The trader only shrugged. He couldn’t have gotten two thousand dinars for a slave bound for a brothel.
They pushed into the market throng. “There you are,” Titus called, hurrying over. Livia saw him frown as he registered the barbarian. “Livia Quintus, what is this? You’ve never purchased this creature!”
“I have, Titus. He was a soldier, therefore skilled in martial arts. He even speaks Latin. He’ll be a perfect bodyguard.”
“Livia, return him at once. This is no slave for a woman.”
Livia turned to her new purchase, seeing him through Titus’s eyes. Bloody and sweating, he looked fierce, with those intense green eyes and all that hair. But he was the one she wanted. She knew that as certainly as she knew her own name. “Once we clean him up you won’t recognize him.”
“He needs more than a bath to make him suitable.”
“You were the one who suggested a bodyguard slave, and now that I’ve meekly done as you ask, you rail at me.”
Titus rolled his eyes. “Meek? I would welcome meek.” Livia gestured her entourage forward. Titus sighed and fell in step. “I just hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.”

AUTHOR BIO

Susan Squires is a New York Times bestselling author known for breaking the rules of romance writing. Whatever her time period, or subject, some element of the paranormal always creeps in. She has won multiple contests for published novels and reviewer's choice awards. Publisher's Weekly named Body Electric one of the year’s most influential mass market books and One with the Shadows a Best book of the Year. Time for Eternity, the first in the DaVinci time travel series, received a starred review from Publisher's Weekly.
Susan has a Masters in English literature from UCLA and once toiled as an executive for a Fortune 500 company. Now she lives at the beach in Southern California with her husband, Harry, a writer of supernatural thrillers, and two very active Belgian Sheepdogs, who like to help her write by putting their chins on the keyboarddddddddddddddddddddddd.

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Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Announcing the release of: Seeing you by Michelle Lynn. Success was the ultimate goal … until we saw each other in a different light.




RELEASE DATE - NOVEMBER 18th



BLURB:

Todd’s my next-door neighbor—an up-and-coming chef ready to make his mark on the world. His dreams are bold and limitless, his drive even more so. He offers me a favor, one that I can’t refuse … only there are strings attached.

Amelia’s my next-door neighbor—a talented photographer waiting for her big break.
Her dreams are authentic and intense, her art even more so. I made her an offer and she accepted … but I asked for something in return.

Two favors meant to make our dreams come true. Our careers were supposed to change, not our friendship. Success was the ultimate goal … until we saw each other in a different light.





EXCERPT:

“Well…thank you all for staying late. You’ll be the first to leave tomorrow night, if you choose. Good night.” Davis dismisses everyone without divulging who the winner is.
I’m assuming he doesn’t want questions about wagers and who will be cashing in on what between us.
All of them quickly wave good-bye, and I notice my coat and purse lying across the bar. Todd motions toward it with his head, and I scrunch my eyebrows at him. He in turn widens his eyes, and his head points a little more exaggerated this time. I shake my head, and his lips form a tight line while his jaw juts out at me. Someone should remind him that he isn’t my father, and I don’t need his permission to stay.
The others file out, leaving me, Davis, and Todd.
“I know you have that date, Todd. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Amelia gets home safe,” Davis tells Todd.
I raise my eyebrows at Todd, silently saying ‘you have a date, so leave me alone’.
Todd’s chest rises and falls. He’s struggling inside of himself, and I’m curious to why. He’s the one who wanted me with Davis to distract him from the kitchen.
His eyes find mine, asking me if I’m okay with it, and I silently nod. Hopefully, Davis can’t pick up on our nonverbal communication.
“All right.” Todd’s body weaves back and forth. “Yeah, I’m already kind of late due to this whole lame hot chocolate contest.” He releases an uncomfortable chuckle. “Noodle, we’re still on for tomorrow morning?” he asks.
It almost slipped my mind that we have a photo shoot with Gia, the female model I’ve been working with.
“Yeah, ten o’clock. Don’t be late.” I point my finger at him.
His lips stay in a straight line. “Never. See you then.” He bends over the bar and kisses my cheek. His hot breath erupts goose bumps along my neck when he lingers longer than usual. “Be careful,” he whispers in my ear.
When he pulls back, all that anxiety I just heard in his words are vividly clear in the lines of his face.
“Good night, Todd. Have a fun date.” I smile, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he shakes Davis’s hand. When Todd reaches the door, he glances at me one more time before the cool night breeze streams into the restaurant with his departure.








AUTHOR BIO:

USA Today Bestselling author, Michelle Lynn moved around the Midwest most of her life, transferring from school to school before settling down in the outskirts of Chicago ten years ago, where she now resides with her husband and two kids.  She developed a love of reading at a young age, which helped lay the foundation for her passion to write.   With the encouragement of her family, she finally sat down and wrote one of the many stories that have been floating around in her head. When she isn’t reading or writing, she can be found playing with her kids, talking to her mom on the phone, or hanging out with her family and friends.  But after chasing around twin preschoolers all day, she always cherishes her relaxation time after putting the kids to bed.



MEDIA LINKS:

Twitter: @michellelynnbks









Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Book Release: A gentleman's agreement by Joy Avery.

banner Genre: Contemporary Romance
A GENTLEMAN'S AGREEMENT
Publication Date: 10-24-2015
ASIN: B0172YH9XM
Author: Joy Avery

cooltext1950058583   a_gentlemans_agreement_coverfinal When it comes to love, all deals are off! Blake Farrington knows exactly who to call when he finds himself needing crisis management. Yes, this task is outside Eunice Howard’s usual realm of responsibilities, but he’s willing to make it worth her time. Plus, she’s ideal for the role. Who better to play his pretend lover than the one woman who knows him almost better than he knows himself? The last thing Eunice Howard expects when summoned to her boss’s office is a request to play the role of his new love interest to appease his mother, restless to marry him off. Foolishly agreeing, she ventures with him to Farrington Estates for the Thanksgiving holiday. She thought she’d seen all sides of Blake Farrington, but the man who emerges is a man she could easily love. Their agreement blossoms into a connection neither expected—nor are willing to admit. When the lines between make-believe and reality blur, something phenomenal occurs.  
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 Joy Avery is a contemporary romance author who loves watching her imaginary friends fall in love. When not crafting her next love story, she enjoys reading, spending time with the family, playing with her two dogs, and cake decorating. She’s the author of the novels Smoke in the Citi, His Until Sunrise (book 1 in the Indigo Falls series), Cupid’s Error-a Valentine’s novella, and His Ultimate Desire (book 2 in the Indigo Falls series).  
excerpt
  The second they rounded the corner, Eunice snatched her hand away. “What the hell was that?” she asked in a whisper. “What?” He wasn’t truly that clueless, but played so. She released a heavy sigh and hiked up the stairs. Inside the bedroom, he was on her heels—right until the moment she stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. Blake leaned against the door jamb. “Are you upset?” “Yes. No. I mean—” She cursed under her breath. He couldn’t understand why she’d gotten so distressed. Okay, maybe he’d gone a little overboard, but… Eunice continued. “I don’t know. Did you—” She yelped once the door slung open and he was standing there. He flashed one of his award-winning smiles in hopes of lightening the mood. She pushed him out of the way and moved toward the bed. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she wore a simple white nightgown shirt. It was sexy as hell. “Did you have to take it that far?” she said. “We’re supposed to be a believable couple, right?” She narrowed her eyes at him. Had she been a bull, he had a feeling this was the moment she would have charged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my words would affect you so…deeply. They were pretty poetic, huh?” Eunice snatched a pillow from the bed and hurled it at him. What was with him and women with pillows? “Enjoy the floor, Mr. Poetic.” Blake barked a laugh. Eunice climbed in bed. He sobered. She pulled the covers to her chin. Blake pulled his hands to his waist. “Eunice?” When she didn’t answer, he rested his hand on the back of his neck. “Come on. You can’t be serious. You’re really making me sleep on the floor?” “Goodnight, Prat. Sweet dreams.” There was a hint of laughter in her tone. Frankly, he didn’t find anything funny. “Seriously, that bed is the size of a small island.” “In that case, you should feel privileged. You have the entire ocean to yourself.” Every damn body is a comedian in this house. “Okay. I’ll remember this.” This time, humor played in his tone. “See if you get a Christmas bonus.” He escaped into the bathroom, did his before bed rituals, then returned and made a pallet on the floor. Using the remote, he shut off the lights, then attempted to find a comfortable position. “Blake?” Ah-ha. I knew she’d feel sorry for me. “Mmm-hmm,” he hummed. “Your story… This is going to sound strange, but it actually happened to me in Central Park. Weird, huh?” Not weird at all. Unlike her story, his had been steeped in truth. All except for the approaching her part. Unbeknownst to Eunice, he’d seen her in the park doing exactly what he’d stated. He’d also wanted to ask her out. But before he could, he discovered she’d recently started working for his company. Imagine his surprise when they’d bumped into each other at the annual Spring Fling he threw for his staff. “Huh. Yeah. That is weird.”  

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Monday, November 16, 2015

Book 2 in the Paradise Series are now available: Wild in Paradise by Leslie Pike.




Cover designed by : Kari March at L23 

Release Date: November 11, 2015



SYNOPSIS:

A movie set is a great place to test one’s endurance for temptations.  They’re all there for the taking. A person can get away with their indulgences. For Finn Kennedy, Father Paul Cruz and Esme Scott, things are about to get very tempting.

Finn Kennedy is flying high, after his hit comeback film. He’s slayed his personal dragons, and with his Irish good looks and penchant for play, he’s catnip to women. For Finn, there’s no reason to settle on one, when there are so many to be sampled.
Father Paul Cruz is burned out from his years as the Catholic chaplain at San Quentin. He’s been a priest for all of his adult life, and he’s questioning that choice. Father Paul has never enjoyed the less cerebral pleasures of life. A sabbatical is what he needs. When best friend Finn is cast in a film about a Jesuit priest, he gets Father Paul hired on as a consultant. His world is about to be rocked.

Esme Scott’s a young woman running from an abusive husband. She’s on her own for the first time, and trying to make her way. When she gets a job as the Wardrobe assistant on the film, she discovers just what she’s been missing, personally, professionally and sexually. And she finds out just how much it takes, to correct past mistakes.

Beautiful Park City, Utah is the setting for Wild In Paradise, the second book in the Paradise Series.






PURCHASE LINK







Excerpt:

They say luck is a lady. I think they’re right. Women have given me second chances before, chances I didn’t deserve. Lady Luck was no different. She resurrected this Irish soul from the ashes of my bad de- cisions. This limousine that I’m comfortably cocooned in confirms it’s so.

A decade ago my pass at fame had slipped through my fingers. I had a minor role in one hit movie, which by some miracle became a cult classic. I had ten lines at most, but people connected with me. I was the fireman who rescued the ingénue. My one close-up and the line, “Give me your hand, darlin’ and I’ll take it from there,” was remembered. Then it all went bad.

I’d had a brief ride on the carousel and reached for the brass ring, only to feel the metal brush my fingertips as I moved by in a haze of tequila and cocaine. Noticed by few, then quickly forgotten, I had become a footnote in Hollywood’s history book and a fading image on a few reels of celluloid.

What a fool I’d been. I became a regular in the “Whatever Happened To?” articles, where they would compare my looks in before and after photos. The com- parison was not good. I not only lost my career and my dignity, but I lost my wife. Bliss finally got tired of liv- ing with a husband who was frequently too stoned or hammered to know whose bed he was in. Any attempt at trying to get me to stop drinking and using was met with contempt. I didn’t deserve Bliss. After a time, she came to agree with me completely.

The day she walked out I felt a pivot. The seat of my reason nudging at me, like a finger poking me in the chest. I kept using and drinking myself stupid for a few months, but it was never as satisfying. I kept chasing the high, but I couldn’t catch the same intoxication. I became aware of the lesser man I had become. Conscience is the most effective buzz kill.

Then I began tallying up the costs of my addictions. You can’t ignore your own thoughts. I couldn’t, anyway. My better self was disgusted and let me know on a regu- lar basis. Every day I’d wish that asshole would shut the fuck up. But he was unforgiving. And in the end, I saw the truth. As good as drunk is, it always ends in thirst.

Now, by life’s artfully twisted itinerary, Bliss and I find ourselves friends. She in love and engaged to Steven French, a man I’ve come to respect, and me six years so- ber and enjoying another go around on the carousel. And rightfully, satisfyingly single. Life can be such a grand unpredictable bitch. So tonight this limousine is more than a ride. It’s a magic carpet, carrying me back to a place I’ve missed, a place I belong. I got another chance. This time I’m not going to piss away the opportunity.

I pull out my cell to check my messages. Seventeen missed calls and six texts. Ironic, to think a few years back I’d go days without a call. The only name that con- sistently popped up was my coke dealer, Grandma, as listed on my phone. If someone had read my recent calls back then, they’d have thought I was the best bloody grandson in the world. I scan the list of names. Carl is the only one I’m looking for. I always return my dad’s calls, no matter the hour. He’s alone, but not interested in leaving his Bay Area home of forty years, to come live with me. Moving to Los Angeles is not an option as far as he’s concerned. We’ve had that conversation many times.

Wild in Paradise (Paradise, #2)


Excerpt

They say luck is a lady. I think they’re right. Women have given me second chances before, chances I didn’t deserve. Lady Luck was no different. She resurrected this Irish soul from the ashes of my bad de- cisions. This limousine that I’m comfortably cocooned in confirms it’s so.

A decade ago my pass at fame had slipped through my fingers. I had a minor role in one hit movie, which by some miracle became a cult classic. I had ten lines at most, but people connected with me. I was the fireman who rescued the ingénue. My one close-up and the line, “Give me your hand, darlin’ and I’ll take it from there,” was remembered. Then it all went bad.

I’d had a brief ride on the carousel and reached for the brass ring, only to feel the metal brush my fingertips as I moved by in a haze of tequila and cocaine. Noticed by few, then quickly forgotten, I had become a footnote in Hollywood’s history book and a fading image on a few reels of celluloid.

What a fool I’d been. I became a regular in the “Whatever Happened To?” articles, where they would compare my looks in before and after photos. The com- parison was not good. I not only lost my career and my dignity, but I lost my wife. Bliss finally got tired of liv- ing with a husband who was frequently too stoned or hammered to know whose bed he was in. Any attempt at trying to get me to stop drinking and using was met with contempt. I didn’t deserve Bliss. After a time, she came to agree with me completely.

The day she walked out I felt a pivot. The seat of my reason nudging at me, like a finger poking me in the chest. I kept using and drinking myself stupid for a few months, but it was never as satisfying. I kept chasing the high, but I couldn’t catch the same intoxication. I became aware of the lesser man I had become. Conscience is the most effective buzz kill.

Then I began tallying up the costs of my addictions. You can’t ignore your own thoughts. I couldn’t, anyway. My better self was disgusted and let me know on a regu- lar basis. Every day I’d wish that asshole would shut the fuck up. But he was unforgiving. And in the end, I saw the truth. As good as drunk is, it always ends in thirst.

Now, by life’s artfully twisted itinerary, Bliss and I find ourselves friends. She in love and engaged to Steven French, a man I’ve come to respect, and me six years so- ber and enjoying another go around on the carousel. And rightfully, satisfyingly single. Life can be such a grand unpredictable bitch. So tonight this limousine is more than a ride. It’s a magic carpet, carrying me back to a place I’ve missed, a place I belong. I got another chance. This time I’m not going to piss away the opportunity.

I pull out my cell to check my messages. Seventeen missed calls and six texts. Ironic, to think a few years back I’d go days without a call. The only name that con- sistently popped up was my coke dealer, Grandma, as listed on my phone. If someone had read my recent calls back then, they’d have thought I was the best bloody grandson in the world. I scan the list of names. Carl is the only one I’m looking for. I always return my dad’s calls, no matter the hour. He’s alone, but not interested in leaving his Bay Area home of forty years, to come live with me. Moving to Los Angeles is not an option as far as he’s concerned. We’ve had that conversation many times.




BONUS EXCERPT - *Contains Explicit Material*

“Baby, what’s that you’ve got there for me?” BB asks. Her expression shows surprise.

“A Jacobs Ladder. Ever seen one?” he asks.
“No.”
“Let me show you.”
Finn takes his hands and slowly drops his pants to

reveal the first three rings piercing each side of his cock. BB takes her hand away to get a clear view.

“Damn, man. How am I going to keep playing cards, now that I know what’s waiting?” Her throaty laughter ups the heat that’s already sizzling.

“No more cards. I want to fuck you, and you’re not going to stop me,” says Finn. He looks down at his cock. “Here’s your full house.”

He keeps dropping his pants, an inch every five sec- onds or so. He’s teasing BB, building her arousal. I’ve got to admit it’s impressive. Thick and long. Just the fact he had the balls to pierce his dick says a lot. Now he’s com- pletely exposed.

“These are for your pleasure, darlin’. Each little ring rubbing against your lips, then inside your pussy. Give me your hand.”

He takes her hand and wraps it around his hard cock. I can see the desire on her face. Her mouth opens, just a bit. He starts pumping in her hand, as if she’s jacking him off.

“See how that feels on your hand? Now just imagine it inside you.”

As BB stays focused on Finn’s cock, I see him signal me to get up and join them. Oh boy. Here we go. Might as well, because my cock is waiting to be freed. I need a little liquid courage. I grab the tequila bottle, take a swig, and bring the bottle with me. I come up close behind BB, my cock pressed hard against her ass. I trickle the te- quila over her shoulders and down the front of her thin T-shirt. Finn catches some in his mouth as he licks her. As soon as the liquid and Finn’s tongue hits her nipples, they become erect. They stick out a good inch from her small breasts. She stops playing with Finn, for just a mo- ment, and looks over her shoulder to me. “Suck them,” she says barely above a whisper.

When Finn hears this, he quickly takes her hand from his cock, then turns her around so she’s facing me. His hands expertly move around her waist and down the front of her shorts. She jumps a bit.

“No panties? And smooth as a virgin. Aren’t you the bad girl,” he says. It’s not a question, but a statement of fact.

He unbuttons and unzips her shorts. He kneels behind her and roughly pulls the shorts to the ground. I lift the shirt above her head, and now she stands naked before us. I’m not sure where to start, because I’m stunned by my new definition of beauty. Female. The word takes on a new meaning.

She puts a hand behind my head and brings her mouth to my ear. Her warm breath creates a chill down my spine, with a quick stop at my balls.

“I need to feel your tongue on my nipples. Please,” she says.

There’s no possible way my cock could be any harder. I bring my mouth to her breasts and suck on her tequi- la-splashed breasts. Her nipples are rock hard. My other hand goes between her legs. It’s an unbelievably natu- ral motion. No teacher needed. It’s innate. She’s smooth shaven and her pussy lips are incredibly soft. I use my finger to part her and lift my middle finger inside. It’s warm and moist, and I can feel her muscles squeeze my finger in response. Oh Jesus, I have no idea where Finn is or what he’s doing back there. I only know I’ve found my new favorite thing. And I haven’t even fucked her yet. BB’s moaning now, and that only makes me hotter.

“Let’s move to the floor,” Finn says.
We move to the green comforter. BB kneels down. “Come here, Finn. Let a girl taste what she has coming.”

He stands before her. She takes his pants down and off. And now his cock is close enough to her face to lick. There are six piercings on each side, on the underside from base to tip. She starts licking and sucking. Finn steadies himself with one hand on the fireplace mantel. Meanwhile, I realize I’m the only one still dressed. So I do what must be done. I take off my shirt and pants, and come up behind her. I straddle her kneeling legs. I want to surprise her. Standing, my cock reaches the top of the back of her head. I tap it against her. Surprise.

She slowly pulls her mouth from Finn’s dick. You know in a horror movie when the young girl senses the monster’s standing behind her? That’s what this mo- ment reminds me of. She freezes. She remains facing him though. She reaches over and behind her head, and with both hands finds my cock.

“Holy shit, Paul,” she says.

Finn’s getting close, I know, but he knows this is a big moment for me. So he pulls back and makes a sug- gestion to BB.

“Let me get you wet, darlin’. Then you can take on the “sledge hammer”.

BB isn’t protesting. She looks a little apprehensive, but at the same time excited. Finn proceeds to direct our little scene.


“Paul, get on your back. BB’s going to suck that thing. Don’t choke her.”


 


SYNOPSIS:

BLISS NOVAK has a great life. She's happy, beautiful and financially secure. What more could she want?


Fortune has smiled on STEVEN FRENCH too. Handsome, talented and sexy, the stuntman has it all. At least that's what he believes until he meets Bliss.

When a movie production comes to Pacific Grove, these two are drawn together in a passionate romance. Their love creates their personal Garden of Eden.

But there's only one thing wrong with the Garden of Eden....there's always a snake.






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BONUS EXCERPT - *Contains Explicit Material*

“Baby, what’s that you’ve got there for me?” BB asks. Her expression shows surprise.

“A Jacobs Ladder. Ever seen one?” he asks.
“No.”
“Let me show you.”
Finn takes his hands and slowly drops his pants to

reveal the first three rings piercing each side of his cock. BB takes her hand away to get a clear view.

“Damn, man. How am I going to keep playing cards, now that I know what’s waiting?” Her throaty laughter ups the heat that’s already sizzling.

“No more cards. I want to fuck you, and you’re not going to stop me,” says Finn. He looks down at his cock. “Here’s your full house.”

He keeps dropping his pants, an inch every five sec- onds or so. He’s teasing BB, building her arousal. I’ve got to admit it’s impressive. Thick and long. Just the fact he had the balls to pierce his dick says a lot. Now he’s com- pletely exposed.

“These are for your pleasure, darlin’. Each little ring rubbing against your lips, then inside your pussy. Give me your hand.”

He takes her hand and wraps it around his hard cock. I can see the desire on her face. Her mouth opens, just a bit. He starts pumping in her hand, as if she’s jacking him off.

“See how that feels on your hand? Now just imagine it inside you.”

As BB stays focused on Finn’s cock, I see him signal me to get up and join them. Oh boy. Here we go. Might as well, because my cock is waiting to be freed. I need a little liquid courage. I grab the tequila bottle, take a swig, and bring the bottle with me. I come up close behind BB, my cock pressed hard against her ass. I trickle the te- quila over her shoulders and down the front of her thin T-shirt. Finn catches some in his mouth as he licks her. As soon as the liquid and Finn’s tongue hits her nipples, they become erect. They stick out a good inch from her small breasts. She stops playing with Finn, for just a mo- ment, and looks over her shoulder to me. “Suck them,” she says barely above a whisper.

When Finn hears this, he quickly takes her hand from his cock, then turns her around so she’s facing me. His hands expertly move around her waist and down the front of her shorts. She jumps a bit.

“No panties? And smooth as a virgin. Aren’t youthe bad girl,” he says. It’s not a question, but a statement of fact.

He unbuttons and unzips her shorts. He kneels behind her and roughly pulls the shorts to the ground. I lift the shirt above her head, and now she stands naked before us. I’m not sure where to start, because I’m stunned by my new definition of beauty. Female. The word takes on a new meaning.

She puts a hand behind my head and brings her mouth to my ear. Her warm breath creates a chill down my spine, with a quick stop at my balls.

“I need to feel your tongue on my nipples. Please,” she says.

There’s no possible way my cock could be any harder. I bring my mouth to her breasts and suck on her tequi- la-splashed breasts. Her nipples are rock hard. My other hand goes between her legs. It’s an unbelievably natu- ral motion. No teacher needed. It’s innate. She’s smooth shaven and her pussy lips are incredibly soft. I use my finger to part her and lift my middle finger inside. It’s warm and moist, and I can feel her muscles squeeze my finger in response. Oh Jesus, I have no idea where Finn is or what he’s doing back there. I only know I’ve found my new favorite thing. And I haven’t even fucked her yet. BB’s moaning now, and that only makes me hotter.

“Let’s move to the floor,” Finn says.
We move to the green comforter. BB kneels down. “Come here, Finn. Let a girl taste what she has coming.”

He stands before her. She takes his pants down and off. And now his cock is close enough to her face to lick. There are six piercings on each side, on the underside from base to tip. She starts licking and sucking. Finn steadies himself with one hand on the fireplace mantel. Meanwhile, I realize I’m the only one still dressed. So I do what must be done. I take off my shirt and pants, and come up behind her. I straddle her kneeling legs. I want to surprise her. Standing, my cock reaches the top of the back of her head. I tap it against her. Surprise.

She slowly pulls her mouth from Finn’s dick. You know in a horror movie when the young girl senses the monster’s standing behind her? That’s what this mo- ment reminds me of. She freezes. She remains facing him though. She reaches over and behind her head, and with both hands finds my cock.

“Holy shit, Paul,” she says.

Finn’s getting close, I know, but he knows this is a big moment for me. So he pulls back and makes a sug- gestion to BB.

“Let me get you wet, darlin’. Then you can take on the “sledge hammer”.

BB isn’t protesting. She looks a little apprehensive, but at the same time excited. Finn proceeds to direct our little scene.


“Paul, get on your back. BB’s going to suck that thing. Don’t choke her.”


AUTHOR BIO:


Leslie Pike lives in Laguna Niguel, California, with her husband Don, and Pom-Poo Mr. Big. Before writing her novel, Leslie worked as a screenwriter on episodic television. She has traveled the world with her Stuntman/Stunt Coordinator/Director husband, on movie sets from Africa to Israel, from New York to Los Angeles. Some of her favorite things include calligraphy, long walks with her friends, and enjoying delicious food that other people have cooked!

The Trouble With Eden is Leslie's debut novel.

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