Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Aurora James Blog Tour

Synopsis

WEARY. DESPERATE. BROKE.

I did what I had to do to save her.

I sold my soul to survive.

I fell in love with the devil himself.

I'm Aurora James, and this is my story.

DANGEROUS. MENACING. FORMIDABLE.

He is darkness and danger; I am his light.

He is cold and ruthless; I am his warmth.

He is a heartless pimp; I am his whore.

And this is our beginning

Buy Links
Amazon US ➜http://bit.ly/AuroraJamesAM
Amazon UK ➜ http://bit.ly/AuroraJamesAMUK
B&N ➜ http://bit.ly/AuroraJamesBN
Kobo ➜ http://bit.ly/AuroraJamesKobo
iTunes ➜ http://bit.ly/AuroraJamesiTunes

Excerpt

My mouth hung open as I took in the sight of the man standing in the doorway.

He was easily six foot three, with black hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed as if they saw right through me. His facial features were hard and masculine, like that of a gladiator—strong jaw, straight nose, high cheekbones. And good lord, he was built. His muscles were barely contained by the blue dress shirt that covered his upper body. And through his black suit pants, I could see large, muscular thighs.

“Please don’t tell me this is the situation,” he said to Ghost in an infuriated tone.

“Sure is.” Ghost’s grin stretched across his face and if I knew any better, I’d say he thought the whole situation was amusing, which only served to take me from self-pity to straight out pissed off. Nothing about a single mother struggling to make ends meet was funny in my opinion.

I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to curse when the man shut the door behind him, drawing my attention back towards him. He really was a fine specimen of eye candy. Muscles in my lower belly clenched at the unbidden thought of his large body over mine.

“Why the fuck did you bother me with this?” the man snapped, clearly pissed off and not finding the situation amusing either.

“She wants to dance out front,” Ghost explained.

“All the girls dance out front,” the man replied in agitation.

“She only wants to dance out front,” Ghost further explained.

A bark of disbelief came from the man’s lips, and he turned his full attention to me.

“What makes you think you’re better than the other girls here?”

“I… I don’t,” I stammered. His gaze was hard and his eyes were cold as they raked over my body with precision.

“Then bend over and show me what you’re working with or get the fuck out.”

The color drained from my face at his harsh words, even as those muscles tightened again in anticipation. This was insane. No way could I possibly be this turned on by a stranger who was a complete asshole.

And in the end isn’t that exactly what Kevin ended up being? A stranger and complete asshole? My inner voice taunted me.

“Who do you think you are coming in here and demanding me to bend over like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat?” I demanded. I was in full-on defensive mode. I hated being talked about like I wasn’t in the room, and I despised being treated like a piece of shit.

He closed the distance between us until he was so close his breath caressed the skin on my cheek. My heart galloped wildly in my chest at being this close to him. I had to fight the urge to lean forward, bury my nose in his neck and sniff his collar when his woodsy scent wafted around me.

“Don’t you ever question who the fuck I am. I’m motherfucking God as far as you’re concerned. No one steps into my den and shows me disrespect. No one. You got that?” His tone held a razor-sharp edge that I felt lash at my skin with each word.

“Yes,” I squeaked out, my head bobbing up and down in concurrence. If I’d thought Ghost was scary before, he had nothing on this man. He was on a whole other level from scary. The word scary would be closer to describing a tiny little bunny than it would be to describing him.

Coherent thoughts flew out of my head when I felt his hand on my hip. His touch was a hot brand against my skin, making my breath come in harsh pants. His proximity was breaking down all my defenses and making me feel like a bitch in heat.

The material of my thong tightened against my skin right before I heard the material rip. I looked down in disbelief at the torn lace dangling from his large hand.

Holy shit. He destroyed my underwear… with one hand.

About the Author

Jessica is the author of the Love Square series. She grew up in Central New York, where she spends her days as a Security Analyst at an IT consulting company. In her free time, she enjoys reading books and developing ideas for her own stories. Writing is her secret passion that she's been fostering since elementary school, when she wrote her first book about a puppy. It has always been a dream of hers to be able to share her stories with the world.

Jessica currently lives in New York with her husband and three dogs.

Social Media Links

Facebook ➜ http://on.fb.me/1Ex6uOe

Website ➜ http://www.jessicaingro.com/

Goodreads ➜ http://bit.ly/1MjAD1p

Twitter ➜ http://bit.ly/1O3epXO

Giveaway

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Monday, September 21, 2015

Hoss (Rebel Wayfarers MC #7) Cover Reveal

Hoss (Rebel Wayfarers MC #7) Cover Reveal

Synopsis:

Isaiah Rogers grew up on his family farm in Alabama. Loved by his family, he’s a country boy at heart, a southern gentleman by raising.

The path to northern Indiana was twisted and long, but this sensitive man found a comfortable niche as a member of the Rebel Wayfarers, vice-president of their affluent and growing Fort Wayne chapter. Hoss, as he’s now known, retains pieces of the boy from rural Alabama, but life in the club has hardened him, driving home the message time and again that love isn’t safe.

Hope Collins also grew up in Alabama, but their histories could not be more different.

An ill-timed youthful rebellion came with long-lasting consequences. It’s then she finds she’s not an only child after all, her father holding up her half-sister’s failures as a painful lesson before closing the door of her childhood home in her face.

Hoss and Hope’s paths collide when she travels to Fort Wayne, to meet the sister she had gone most of her life without knowing about. For Hoss, from the first moment he laid eyes on Hope, the truth and beauty inside her called to him. Now he will have to find a way to win the woman’s trust and love, while navigating the dangerous currents swirling around the club.

Preorder Links:
Amazon:
http://bit.ly/Hoss-RWMC-US
http://bit.ly/Hoss-RWMC-CA
http://bit.ly/Hoss-RWMC-AU
http://bit.ly/Hoss-RWMC-UK

iTunes: http://bit.ly/Hoss-itunes

Series Reading Order & Series Buy Links:

Amazon: http://bit.ly/RWMC-Amazon

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/mldemora-bnn

Kobo: http://bit.ly/mldemora-kobo

iTunes: http://bit.ly/mldemora-itunes

Author Bio:

Raised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available, I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.”

A hockey fan, hiker, gamer, and single mom of a special needs son, she embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field for a publishing company for a couple decades.

Music is a driving passion, and she says, “I love music of nearly any genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap, hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing through the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live music. My favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila, then that’s a plus!”

Social Media Links:

https://twitter.com/MariaLisadeMora

https://www.facebook.com/mldemora

https://www.goodreads.com/mldemora

http://www.pinterest.com/mldemora/

http://instagram.com/mldemora

http://marialisademora.tumblr.com/

http://amazon.com/author/marialisademora

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Mason Blog Tour

Synopsis

Davis Mason grew up dirt-floor poor in the rolling hills of rural Kentucky, escaping that life only to find himself adrift on the hard streets of Chicago in his teens. Determined to never again feel the sting of poverty and hunger, he is willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure he has enough power and money to make that happen.

Introduced to what seemed a perfect brotherhood within a motorcycle club, Mason is shaped and honed into a deadly weapon by their sadistic president. As he slowly works his way up the ranks to gain control of the club, he’s resolved to make it better…stronger, able to withstand any challenge.

Betrayed by his bloodline, he cuts all ties with family and begins the process of building a new one. Rising like a phoenix from the ashes of the club he destroyed, he founds the Rebel Wayfarers MC and surrounds himself with loyal, trustworthy brothers. Mason throws himself headlong into the hard job of making certain his brothers have everything needed for themselves and their families, and he works to balance those needs within both the well-mannered citizen world of business, and with the anything-goes biker world of the MC.

Flirting with happiness time and again, just when Mason believes it’s finally within his grasp, he’s torn between what he wants…and what he knows he should do. He finally has the security and family he’s always wanted, but will Mason ever find the love and passion he craves?

“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.” – Nelsen Mandela

Excerpt

From Chapter 2: Monaco

“Boy, you hung onto your response a mite long,” Deacon said, and Mason felt John and Ripper easing away, giving him room. Fuck, he thought, taking a deep breath. This would be a repeat of a scene acted out many times since he joined the club. Deacon was determined to break him, make him bow, and Mason was exactly as determined never to give any man that kind of power over him again. He had vowed his father would be the last man to beat this type of response out of him. And, even if he didn’t know it, Deacon’s level of discipline fell far short of his father’s anyway, lacking the arrogance and conviction that came from believing oneself God’s mouthpiece.

He stood, waiting, watching Deacon saunter across the room. “I believe I just said I want you to get your fucking ass to the fucking Monaco.” He swept his hand out, indicating the room. “And yet, I note you’re still here in front of me, standing in my goddamn clubhouse.”

“Our clubhouse,” Mason said before he could clamp his lips closed. Fuck, he thought, there’s the gasoline. He was the match; anyone could see how his presence lit Deacon up like a bonfire. These days, any excuse was enough for the man, and with this fuel, now everyone in shouting distance would get to witness the fucking inferno blaze high and hot. Before he could even settle his feet into a bracing stance, Deacon was on him, fist punching the side of his head hard.

He learned early on that fighting back wasn’t an option. You didn’t hit your president and expect to keep breathing air. Deacon quickly hit him again, fist to his temple. Dazed, Mason stumbled and fell to one knee then climbed back up, fists clenched at his sides, gaze locked on Deacon’s eyes. “My fucking clubhouse.” Deacon grunted, coming at him again, taking his time knocking Mason to his hands and knees. He shook his head hard before standing again, hot blood welling in his mouth. They had repeated this dance a dozen times before Deacon stepped back, breathing hard and glaring as Mason staggered to his feet once again. He swallowed the mouthful of blood, clenching his jaw, waiting.

“Get your fucking ass to the Monaco. You got me?” Deacon leaned forward, putting his fleshy lips next to Mason’s ear as he said, “You ain’t gonna ever learn. My fucking club, my fucking clubhouse, and you’re my fucking pussy if I want it that way. And, boy…you sure the fuck won’t fight me back. Will you, pussy boy?”

“I got you, Prez,” he gritted out, ignoring the rest, and waited. Waited to discover if this was over, waited to determine if he could hold himself in check once again. Waited to see if today would be the day one of them would die.

Deacon pulled back, his gaze scanning Mason up and down, and then without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room. Mason clenched his eyes closed, tightly clamping a lid on the pain, ears still ringing from the blows he had taken.

“Fuck,” Ripper said, pressing a bandana into Mason’s hand. “He fucked you up, Mason.”

“You like pushing the old man’s buttons, don’t you?” John laughed shrilly, excitement evident in his voice at the promise of more action. “Clean up. Let’s get rolling.”

“I’m still fucking standing, ain’t I?” Mason asked, wiping the blood from his face and neck, feeling a slow trickle still coming from his nose. He swallowed the blood in his mouth again, the bright taste of copper making him sick. Reaching up, he poked at his split lip with one finger, wincing at the pain. “Still standing.”

Buy Links

Amazon:

http://bit.ly/Mason-RWMC-US

http://bit.ly/Mason-RWMC-CA

http://bit.ly/Mason-RWMC_UK

http://bit.ly/Mason-RWMC-AU

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/mason-bnn

iTunes: http://bit.ly/Mason-itunes

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1hNjc0W

Series Reading Order