Monday, March 31, 2014

Blog Tour: Last Breath (Hit Man #2) by Jessica Clare & Jen Frederick

SYNOPSIS
Regan
 I never really knew what misery was until the day I was kidnapped and sold for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 
 Two months later, I'm at a brothel in Rio when I meet Daniel Hays.
 He says he's here to save me, but can I trust him? 
 All I know of him is his sarcastic retorts and his tendency to solve every dispute with his gun. 
He's also the only safe thing in my world, and I know it's wrong to fall in love with him, but I can't seem to help myself.
 He says he’ll protect me until his last breath but I don’t know if I should believe him or even if I can.
 Daniel 
 For the last eighteen months,
 I’ve had one goal that has dictated every action I’ve taken. I’ve left the Army, turned paid hit man, and have befriended criminals all across the globe to find my kidnapped sister. 
 In every brothel I raid or every human trafficking truck I stop, I hope the next face I find is my sister’s.
 In a hidden brothel in Rio, I find Regan Porter, bruised by not broken and still sane despite her weeks in captivity. 
 I should leave her behind or send her home because the last thing either of us needs right now is to get involved.
 But with every passing minute, I find I can’t let her go.
 
 
 Please note: this contains some scenes that sensitive readers may find upsetting or triggering. 




Excerpt

    She’s a biter. That’s the warning given when I point to the blonde with the glazed green eyes in Senhor Gomes’ book of whores. He shakes his head and says that he has access to dozens of others that are better and all willing to engage in whatever perverse activity I want. He brags that there isn’t a sick sex act I can think of that Gomes can’t fulfill. I like home cooking, I tell him. A Texan in Rio sees a lot of beautiful Brazilian women, but sometimes you want a little star-spangled banner in the rotation.
    
He nods as if this makes sense to him, but I think it’s the money that I’m flashing that he understands. We walk up to the second floor and down a narrow hall toward the back, a windowless part of this brick and metal building. I can’t call it a home or even a brothel. It’s a dingy place where men with deep perversions but shallow wallets can get their rocks off.
    I don’t want to have sex here, I’ve explained to Gomes. I have a thing against hellholes and having sex in them. I wave around a lot of cash, and Gomes nodded and asks no more questions.
    We’re a strange parade—Gomes, me, and some house mom trailing behind. He stops at the second to last door and removes a key.
    I’ve seen pictures of Regan Porter before, and not in Gomes’ look book, but nothing prepares me for her full-fledged, magazine-quality beauty. She hasn’t been eating well; her delicate bones are beginning to look sharp in places—at her shoulders, ribs, and hips. But there’s no denying her breathtaking looks. Her blonde hair is damp and small strands stick to her perfect skull. Her oval face, with its pink cheekbones and lush lips and eyebrows that look like wings, stands out like a piece of fine china at a flea market. Though she’s thin, there’s a delicious curviness in the slope of her side as it dips into the waist and flares back out to form a cuppable roundness at the hip. And those endlessly long legs.
    Shit. I close my eyes and swallow. No decent man would be standing here thinking about those legs wrapped around his waist. But then again, I’m not decent. I’m no longer army sniper, Special Forces Daniel Hays who may have once been lauded as a hero for killing insurgents in Afghanistan. Now I’m Daniel Hays, mercenary who kills people for money and spends all his spare time in brothels and flesh dens like this one. Decency is a word I don’t even know the meaning to anymore.
    It’s been too long since I’ve had a woman. That’s my only excuse. That and I’m becoming the monster that I’m hunting. I focus on the bruises on her knees that are scraped red and raw from time on the floor and the manacle around her ankle. Any feelings of arousal are jettisoned by the obvious signs of abuse.
    Glancing sharply at Gomes, I wonder how he’s come to possess a beauty like Regan Porter. Gomes is a small-time flesh peddler, stuck up here in the slums, with a house full of females—half of which are missing their teeth or are too old or too broken.     He usually gets what the market calls second-hand goods, the girls that no other house wants. But Regan Porter is gorgeous, and while she looks a little rundown, she’s still model beautiful with big pink lips and wide green eyes.
    “Nice tits,” I smirk for Gomes’ sake and her shudder of disgust only feeds into my growing belief that I’m as dirty as the flesh trader beside me. The dark edges of the world that I now inhabit are seeping into my skin like an oil slick covering an ocean. I shouldn’t want to touch her. And if I have to fuck her in front of Gomes to get her out of here—I don’t even let myself finish that thought.
    There’s still life in her eyes. If she’s biting and spitting out acerbic insults, there’s spirit left in her, and I don’t want to be the one to snuff out that last flame. Her eyes convey her hate, and if she had a knife, I’d be sliced from my throat to my belly. I stare back, not because she’s fucking beautiful, but because she’s still standing. I’m not sure I would’ve been as strong. I don’t know if she sees my admiration or whether she can only interpret varying degrees of lust and degradation, but she sees something. An invisible string spools out between us and her eyes widen when it hits her like an electrical shock.
    For months I’ve swum in a pool of blood and death and ugly deeds, and to hold onto my sanity and maybe my soul, I’ve told myself that saving these doves balances the scale. For every life I take, if I save one then it’s all a wash in the end. Don’t think it’s tallied that way at St. Peter’s Gate, but that’s the lie I tell myself so I can sleep at night and look at myself in the mirror the next day. Regan Porter will either be part of my attempt at salvation or the bloody stone that etches out the words He Failed on my headstone.





dawns-sizzling-pages.blogspot.com/search/label/Hitmannicholes-sizzling-pages.blogspot.com/search/label/Hitman
http://dianas-sizzling-pages.blogspot.com/2014/03/last-breath-hitman-2-jessica-clare-jen.html



http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00H0UTYS2/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00H0UTYS2&linkCode=as2&tag=sizzpageromar-20

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ISLNYC4/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ISLNYC4&linkCode=as2&tag=sizzpageromar-20http://bit.ly/1fcdDjO
http://bit.ly/1hRDvpw
http://bit.ly/N6vy4F
http://bit.ly/1fKFzkG

 ABOUT THE AUTHORS
 Jen Frederick




Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She's been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at


https://twitter.com/jensfredhttps://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenFrederick


https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6995972.Jen_Frederick


http://jenfrederick.com/

Jessica Clare




Author Jessica Claire
This is a pen name for Jill Myles.
Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the 'naughty parts' of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.
After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own - stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare?directed_target_id=0https://twitter.com/_JessicaClare


http://tinyurl.com/q4272wf
http://jillmyles.com/

Cover Reveal: Color of Danger by Alexa Verde





Title: Color of Danger
Author: Alexa Verde
Genre: Inspirational Romantic Suspense
Release Date: May 2014

SYNOPSIS
Former runaway Mari Del Lobo works hard to save her struggling restaurant and to trust people again. Dallas surgeon Dr. Luke Goodman turns her world upside down with terrifying news. A recent murder has her late brother's - aka the Smiling Killer - signature and MO. When attacks on her escalate, Mari fights her growing attraction to the good doctor as fiercely as she fights for her life. To rescue herself and those she loves, will she be able to stop the murderer before he strikes again?
Luke couldn't save his fiancée from the Smiling Killer, but he'll do anything to prevent more murders, even ask help from the serial killer's sister. Finding a kindred tortured soul and the perpetrator's next target in Mari, Luke is determined to protect the stubborn ex-rebel. But Mari would rather face danger than risk the safety of the man she comes to love.

AUTHOR
Alexa Verde fell in love with writing at age eight when she penned her first poem. After publishing 200 short stories, poems, and articles in the five languages she speaks, Alexa has turned her creative passion to writing novels. Her 2014 debut inspirational romantic suspense, COLOR OF DANGER, is the first in her Secrets of Rios Azules series, set in a fictional small Texas town where rivers and emotions run deep and the richest family in town has a fine taste for food, jewelry, and murder. 

Part of the proceeds from the book will go to Brenda Novak's Auction for Diabetes Research at brendanovak.auctionanything.com 

SOCIAL LINKS








Sunday, March 30, 2014

Cover Reveal : Entice (Eagle Elite #3) by Rachel Van Dyken




https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18465431-entice?from_search=true


Release Day : May 13, 2014


From #1 New York Times Bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken comes the third book in the bestselling Eagle Elite Series...

“As burns this saint, so burns my soul. I enter alive, and I will have to get out dead.”

Chase Winter let the love of his life slip through his fingers and into the hands of his best friend and mafia boss of the Abandanato family. Now that he's been given a second chance to right a wrong--he refuses to let his own selfishness stand in the way. The only problem? He's not fully in possession of his heart, so when Mil De Lange, the girl who's innocence he stole, and heir to the worst of the worst mafia families in the US, asks him for a favor. He actually says yes, not realizing that that one yes has the power to destroy them all.

Mil's been in love with Chase as long as she can remember, but as the years went by, the love turned to hate, and now that he's agreed to help her, she's wondering if she made a fatal error. Because Chase isn't a teenager anymore. He's a hot blooded male, bent on owning every part of her body and soul, and willing to kill anyone in his path who dares stand in the way.
It's time for secrets to finally be revealed...but make no mistake, it's going to take a lot of bloodshed for those truths to be discovered.

You've never read a New Adult Mafia story like this before...loyalties will be tested, lovers reunited, and friendships obliterated. Welcome to the Family. Blood in--No out.




Nixon
I checked the time on my cell and leaned against the wall. The desert heat was not in any way helping my already-tense mood and irritated disposition. A guy walked by, flicking his cigarette into the dirt. Note to self: you know you're tense as hell when you’re halfway tempted to grab said cigarette and suck the nicotine dry from the remains.
And I didn’t even smoke.
Shhhit.
My head hurt, my muscles were sore, and Trace was pissed. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the building.
“Hey there.” A flirty voice interrupted my self-inflicted torture session. I opened one eye, then two. A blond-haired girl in six-inch heels and something I can only assume at one point use to be a shirt, hanging over her shoulder, walked into my personal space. Her shirt-dress thing barely met her thighs.
“Yes?” I kept my sunglasses on. If I took them off and glared, she’d probably run screaming down the street, and I wasn’t into scaring females… at least not in that way. I knew I looked downright pissed as hell.

“Just thought you looked lonely.” She lifted her shoulder and offered a teasing smile. Did that really work on other guys?
“You thought wrong,” I said simply. “I’m holding the wall up — like Samson.”
“Samson?” She looked around as if waiting for another man to appear.
“From the Bible,” I clarified.
“The what?”
“Gotta love Vegas,” I muttered under my breath. “Look, I don’t want any.”
“Any what?” She ran a manicured nail down my chest, biting down on her lip at the same time. I could only imagine her point was to get me to stare at her lips, but all I felt was irritation. Damn Chase and Mil. I just wanted to go to bed, but I needed to talk with him before tomorrow.
“Sex.” My voice clipped. “I. Don’t. Want. Any.”
“But—” She twirled a piece of blond- hair in her fingers.
“I’m gay.”
“Right.” She snorted.
“I’m into men.”
“Oh really?” She closed the distance between us. Just as I was ready to seriously put my hands on her and push, I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder. “Hey there, hot stuff.” Tex said in a low voice as his hand grabbed my ass, cupping it with a little too much enthusiasm. “You ready?”
I ground my teeth together and forced a smile. “Yup.”
“Oh…” The girl stepped back. “Um, sorry, you guys, uh, enjoy your night.” She pushed past Tex so fast I was afraid she was going to teeter off her heels and get hit by a taxi.
“Tex.” I seethed.
“Hmm?” He took off his sunglasses and tilted his head as the girl hurried away.
“You can take your hand off my ass now.”
“Why? Afraid you like it too much?”
I pushed against him.
“Just embrace your feelings!” He shouted, earning the attention of a family walking by with their two little kids.
I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and threw him few feet away from me, trying my damnedest not to smile.
“Admit it. You keep me around for comic relief.” Tex nodded with a smirk.
“I admit nothing.” I lost the war against smiling and started laughing. “But I do keep your ass away from Campisi, so remember that next time you start yelling about me being your lover.”
“True.” Tex grinned. “Oh, and P.S., don’t knock it till you try it.”
“P.S.,” I repeated in the same voice. “Still pissed at you for screwing over my sister.”
“Yeah well.” Tex sobered. “It’s for the best.”
“Breaking her heart and bringing in whores is what’s best for her?”
Tex lifted his hands into the air. “Look, I didn’t say my methods were sound or that they were intelligent, just let us deal with it, okay? We’re big kids.”
“Kids.” I snorted. “That about sums it up.”
A town car pulled up next to the curb. Chase got out and then held out his hand to Mil. My eyes narrowed; she looked different. Happier.
Her mom had just died, and she'd survived a bombing.
And she was smiling like the Taliban had just declared world peace.
Chase gripped her so tight that I saw the white of his knuckles.
I tilted my head, still watching them when Tex said. “Dude, you get laid?”
“Tex,” I snapped. “Go get something for their luggage.”
“But—”
“Go.”
Tex flipped me off, but ended up jogging over to the main entrance while I inspected both Mil and Chase. “I’m not saying this to be an ass—”
“Here we go.” Mil crossed her arms.
Chase waited.
I licked my lips and tried to appear indifferent. “But if you guys start screwing each other now, I may have to shoot one or both of you. It’s not the time to play house, got it?”
“Play house,” Chase repeated in a deadpan voice as he dipped his free hand into his back pocket, most likely clenching a pair of brass knuckles.
“I know it’s your honeymoon,” I continued. “But this [P1] little scenario you’ve got going on with the whole hot and cold is going to have to wait until everyone’s safe. So Chase, keep it in your pants for once in your life, and Mil, stop trying to seduce the poor kid, alright? It’s like dangling a damn fry in front of a seagull.”
“Who’s a fry?” Tex asked, pulling the luggage cart with him.
“Mil.”
“Are we eating dinner or something? Because I have to admit,” Tex leaned against the cart, “I’m freaking starving.” He eyed Chase and Mil. “Then again, I’m sure you both are too. All those extracurricular really take it out of ya.”
Chase took off his sunglasses, his face twisting in irritation and annoyance, no smile. Nothing. He was pissed.
“Chase,” I said slowly. “You know I’m right. You’re the best I have. I need your focus to be on The Family. Your family. Then you can screw all you want, okay?”
Mil looked like she wanted to punch me in the face. Chase took a step forward, but she stopped him.
“Good talk.” I exhaled. “Chase, I’ll see you down in the bar in a half-hour, okay? We have business to discuss. Mil, you can go find the girls. They’re having dinner out by the pool.”
Nobody moved.
After a few seconds of tense silence where I was pretty sure Chase was trying to convince himself not to strangle me to death, Tex cleared his throat and pointed to the luggage. “You guys need help, then?”
“Yeah,” Chase croaked. “Thanks.”
We loaded them up and sent them on their way.
“Tell me,” Tex asked once we were walking back toward the bar. “Is your only goal to see how far you can push Chase before he kills you in your sleep?”







TRIPLES with EMMA



  
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers!


https://twitter.com/RachVDhttps://www.facebook.com/RachelVanDyken

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4882127.Rachel_Van_Dyken

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Blog Tour: Monster by Francette Phal


Accidental Gold digger.
Circumstance forced Eden Mercer to sell herself to Dominic Armstrong for half a million dollars and in return she is to play the dutiful wife in public and submit to him completely behind closed doors.
The Tyrant.
Dominic is Ruthless, manipulative and sadistic but Eden is determined not to break under his cruelty. But how does one persevere when in the clutches of a Monster?


                           
http://dawns-sizzling-pages.blogspot.com/2014/03/monster-by-francette-phal.html


http://cariads-sizzling-pages.blogspot.com/2014/03/arc-review-invincible-by-alana-albertson.htmlnicholes-sizzling-pages.blogspot.com/search/label/Monster



 
****Warning the following excerpt is for 18+ only****
“Soon, sweetie, I promise,” he soothed. She moaned softly as he licked her ear, dropped soft warm kisses across her shoulder blades, he moved down her back, a wet tongue and hot mouth traced and kissed each vertebrae, making a slow and steady progress down her spine. It was a torturous progression that boiled the blood in Eden’s veins as she waited in bated anticipation. Breath stilled in her lungs, eyes widening when he drew apart her butt cheeks and ran his tongue down the wet crevice, from clit to the puckered rosebud of her hole and back again. It was undoubtedly one of the most erotic things he’d ever done to her body, and Eden didn’t know how to breathe properly. She gripped the sheets beneath her hands and bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.
It was like a shot of adrenaline straight into her vein. It was blood vessels dilating, her heart galloping uncontrollably in her chest, it was gasping for breath when the air she drew in wasn’t enough. He owned her body, ate it like sun ripened peaches and drank the flowing juices of her weeping womanhood with his rapacious tongue. There were fingers there, slipping between the folds to dive deep into her blistering heat, while his thumb worked at her puckered hole, his wicked, wicked mouth showing Eden exactly how very little she knew her of own body. There was nothing but the explicitness of this act, the hyper awareness that made her feel like each inch of her body was struck by lightning, that killed her and gave her life all in one electrifying jolt. He was merciless and perfect, inviting her to shove her hips back and ride his face.
Death was imminent, sweet cataclysmic death seduced her into the gaping, welcoming arms of her orgasm. She plummeted, shattered into delicious little pieces on his tongue and fingers. Recuperating wasn’t in the stars for her as he gripped her hips and plunged into her depths in one long stroke. Pulling her arms and folding them at the small of her back, he held them there with one large hand as he sank in deeper, so deep that it hurt so good. Ass high in the air, face down in the sheets, Eden was at his complete mercy, filled to absolute capacity with his cock, and she whimpered, the vulnerability of her position giving her a sweet high.
“I’m going to beat this pussy, Eden, and you’re going to scream my name.”
And she did, a promise made completely true as he fucked her like a porn star. She screamed like the world was falling, his repeated strike against her G-spot making her see stars. It was too damn much, his jarring thrusts so deep that she could taste him, spurred her fall and she orgasmed on every inch of his cock.


Francette lives in Massachusetts with her amazingly supportive husband of ten years and her darling two year old son. Reading amazing books has led her to writing and she’s dabbled in fan-fiction before self-publishing her own works. She’s constantly thinking up new stories to write and does her best work when music is playing in the background. Romance is where she’s most comfortable but she hopes to one day venture in mystery novels. She has a weakness for coffee ice cream, tropical fruits and a good glass of wine.
 
            
            


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