Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway: Real by Katy Evans

Title: Real (Real, Raw & Ripped #1)
Author: Katy Evans
Pages: 320 pages
Publisher: Gallery Books
Publication date: September 3rd 2013
Buy the book: Amazon / Barnes and Noble
Tour host: The SubClub Books (Thanks, ladies!)



HOT. SEXY. POWERFUL. PAINFUL. REAL. The scorching international bestseller that strips away everything you’ve ever believed about passion . . . . 

Remington Tate has a bad-boy rep in and out of the ring, a granite-hard body, and a raw, animal power that sends his female fans into a frenzy. But from the moment their eyes lock, the only woman he wants is Brooke Dumas. His desire is pure, all-consuming, and REAL. 

Hired to keep his perfect body working like a machine, Brooke finally has the lucrative sports therapy job she’s been dreaming of. But as she tours the dangerous underground fighting circuit with Remy and his team, Brooke’s own body becomes alive with the most primal of hungers. If what happens between Brooke and Remy is ever as light as a flirtation, it quickly becomes an erotic obsession for them both, and promises so much more. 

But their white-hot lust has a dark side—and when Remy’s deepest secret comes to light and Brooke’s familial duties demand action, will the pair be able to hang on, or will everything that once seemed so real suddenly fade away like an illusion?

(Image and summary taken from Goodreads.)

I stare up at the ring as the guy whips off the red satin robe with the word riptide on the back, and the spectators stand screaming and cheering as he slowly turns to acknowledge them all. His face is suddenly before me, illuminated by the lights, and I just stare like an idiot from my place. My god.

My.

God.

Dimples.

Dark scruffy jaw.

Boyish smile.

Man’s body.

Killer tan.

A shiver shoots down my spine as I helplessly drink in the entire package everyone else seems to be gaping at.

He has black hair, standing up sexily as if women have just had their fingers there. Cheekbones as strong as his jaw and forehead. Lips that are red-kissed and swollen, and, as a souvenir from his walk to the ring, there’s lipstick on his jaw. I look down his long, lean body and something hot and wild settles in my core.

He’s mesmerizingly perfect and incredibly hard. Everything, from his beautifully slim hips and narrow waist to his broad shoulders, is solid. And that six-pack. No. It’s an eight-pack. The sexy V of his obliques dips into his satin, navy blue shorts, which gently hug his powerful legs, thick with muscle. I can see his quads, traps, pecs, and biceps, all gloriously tight and cut. Celtic tattoos circle both of his arms, exactly where his bulging biceps and the rigid square deltoids of his shoulders meet.

“Remy! Remy!” Mel shouts hysterically at my side, hands cupped to her mouth. “You’re so fucking hot, Remy!”

His head angles to the sound, one dimple showing with a sexy smile as he faces us. A frisson of nervous energy passes through me, not because he’s extremely gorgeous from this perfect view—because he is, he definitely is, goodness, he really is—but mostly because he’s looking straight at me.

One eyebrow cocks, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his entrancing blue eyes. Also something . . . warm in his gaze. Like he thinks I’m the one who shouted. Oh, shit.

He winks at me, but then I’m stunned as his smile slowly fades, morphing into one that’s unbearably intimate.

My blood simmers.

My sex clenches tight, and I hate that he seems to know that.

I can see he thinks he’s the ultimate creation, and he seems to believe every woman here is his Eve, created from his rib cage for him to enjoy. I’m both aroused and infuriated, and this is the most confusing feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.

Breaking our connection, he curls his lips and turns when his opponent is announced with the words “Kirk Dirkwood, ‘the Hammer,’ here for all of you tonight!”

“You little slut, Mel!” I cry when I recover, shoving her playfully. “Why did you have to scream like that? He thinks I’m the nutcase now.”

“Omigod! He did not just wink at you,” Melanie says, visibly stunned.

Oh my god, he had. Hadn’t he? He did.

I’m just as astounded as I relive the wink in my head, and I’m totally going to torture Melanie because she deserves it, the little tramp.

“He did,” I finally admit, scowling at her. “We telepathically communicated, and he says he wants to take me home to be the mother of his sexy babies.”

“Like you would have sex with someone like him. You and your OCD!” she says, laughing her head off as Remington’s opponent takes off his robe. The man is all beefy muscle, but not an ounce of him can visually compete with the pure male deliciousness of that “Riptide.”

Remington flexes his arms at his sides, stretches his fingers out and forms fists, then bounces on the balls of his feet, his calves flexing. He’s a large, muscular man but surprisingly light on his feet.

Hammer throws the first punch. Remington evades it with a smart duck, and he comes back up with a full swing that connects and knocks Hammer’s face to the side. I inwardly flinch at the power in his punch; my body clenches at the sight of his muscles contracting and tensing, working and releasing, with each blow he delivers.

The crowd watches, enraptured, as the fight continues, those awful cracking sounds filling me with goose bumps. But there’s something else bothering me. The fact that beads of perspiration pop on my brow, in my cleavage. As the fight progresses, my nipples strain, ever more puckered and tight, against my top, pushing anxiously against the silk of the fabric. Somehow watching Remington Tate pound a man they call “Hammer” makes me squirm in my clothes in a way I don’t like, much less ever expected.

The way he swings, moves, growls . . .

Suddenly, a chorus begins: “REMY . . . REMY . . . REMY.”

I turn and see Melanie jumping up and down and saying, “Omigod, hit him, Remy! Just knock him dead, you sexy beast!” She screams when his opponent falls to the ground with a loud thump.

My panties are soaked, and my pulse has gone haywire. I’ve never condoned violence. This isn’t me, and I blink in stupefaction at the sensations whipping through my system. Lust, pure, white-hot lust, flutters through my nerve endings.

The ringmaster lifts Remington’s arm in victory, and as soon as he straightens from the knockout blow he just delivered, his gaze swings in my direction and crashes into me. Piercing blue eyes meet mine, and something knots and pulls inside my tummy. His sweaty chest rises and falls in a deep pant, and a drop of blood rests at the corner of his lips. Through it all, his eyes are glued to me.

Heat spreads under my skin, and the flames lick me all over. I will never admit this to Melanie, not even to myself out loud, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a hot man in my life. The way he stares at me is hot. The way he stands there, with his hand held in the air, his muscles dripping sweat, with that air of authority Mel told me about in the cab—it’s just hot.

There’s no apology in his stare. In the way he ignores everyone who shouts his name and stares at me with a look that’s so sexual I almost feel taken right here. An awful awareness of the exact way I look to him sweeps over me.

My long, straight hair, the color of mahogany, falls to my shoulders. My button-up white shirt is sleeveless, but it goes up my throat in a lacy mock-neck, and the hem is tucked nicely into a pair of high-waisted, but perfectly presentable, black pants. A small set of gold hoop earrings nicely complement my honeyed whiskey eyes. Despite my conservative choice of clothes, I feel completely naked.

My legs wobble, and I’m left with the distinct impression this man wants to pound me next. With his cock.

Please, god, I did not just think that; Melanie would. Another tightening in my womb distresses me.

“REMY! REMY! REMY! REMY!” people chant, the sound growing in intensity.

“You want more Remy?” the man with the microphone asks the crowd, and the noise builds around us. “All right then, people! Let’s bring out a worthier opponent for Remington ‘Riptide’ Tate tonight!”

Another man steps into the ring, and I can’t bear it anymore. My system is on overload. This is probably why it’s not a good idea to forego sex for so many years. I’m so worked up that I can barely talk right or even make my legs move as I turn to tell Mel I’m going to the restroom.

A voice blares loudly through the speakers as I charge down the wide path between the stands. “And now, to challenge our reigning champion, ladies and gentlemen, is Parker ‘the Terror’ Drake!”

The crowd comes alive, and suddenly, I hear an unmistakably hard slam.

Resisting the urge to look back at what’s causing the commotion, I round the corner and head straight for the bathroom hall as the speakers flare up again. “Holy cow, that was fast! We have a KO! Yes, ladies and gentlemen! A KO! And in record time, our victor once again, I give you, Riptide! Riptide—who’s now jumping out of the ring and— Where the hell are you going?”

The crowd goes crazy, calling all the way to the lobby, “Riptide! Riptide!” and then they fall completely quiet, as though something unscripted has just happened.

I’m wondering about the eerie silence when pounding footsteps echo at my back. A warm hand engulfs mine, and the touch frissons through me as I’m spun around with surprising force.

“What the . . .” I gasp in confusion, and then stare into a sweaty male chest, and up into glowing blue eyes. My senses reel out of control. He’s so close the scent of him tears through me like a shot of adrenaline.

“Your name,” he growls, panting, his eyes wild on mine.

“Uh, Brooke.”

“Brooke what?” he snaps out, his nostrils flaring.

His animal magnetism is so powerful I think he just took my voice. He’s in my personal space, all over it, absorbing it, absorbing me, taking my oxygen, and I can’t understand the way my heart is beating, the way I stand here, shivering with heat, my entire body focused on the exact spot his hand is wrapped around me.

With trembling efforts, I pry my hand free and glance fearfully at Mel, who comes up behind him, wide-eyed. “It’s Brooke Dumas,” she says, and then she happily shoots out my cell phone number. To my chagrin.

His lips curl and he meets my gaze. “Brooke Dumas.”

And as I feel his tongue twist roughly around those two words, his voice sinfully dark, like things you crave to eat but really shouldn’t, desire swells between my legs. His eyes are hot and almost proprietary when he looks at me. I’ve never been stared at like this before.

He just fucked my name right in front of me. And right in front of Mel.

He steps forward, and his damp hand slides to the nape of my neck. My pulse skitters as he lowers his dark head to set a small, dry kiss on my lips. It feels like he’s marking me. Like he’s preparing me for something monumental that could both change and ruin my life.

“Brooke,” he growls softly, meaningfully, against my lips, as he draws back with a smile. "I'm Remington."

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And a BIG thank you from Katy to everyone who's made this tour so successful and possible! *throws edible confetti*

Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway: Taming Cross by Ella James

Title: Taming Cross (Love Inc. #2)
Author: Ella James
Pages: Barkley's Books
Publication date: August 20th 2013
Buy the book: Amazon



For twenty-three years, Cross Carlson was a playboy. You know the type. Tall, dark, and wealthy. Blue-eyed. Charming. He seemed to have it all so easy. But Cross was harboring a terrible secret - one that helped ruin the life of an innocent girl and almost ended his own.

Finally out of the hospital, Cross is flailing, scarred in both body and mind and stifled by the weight of the secret he still keeps. The only way to absolution lies in a Mexican convent, and going there could cost him everything.

If there's anyone who knows what it's like to screw up big time, it's Meredith Kinsey. Just a few years ago, Merri was an ordinary girl with a job at her college newspaper and white picket fence kind of dreams. Now she's holed up in a Mexican convent, hiding from a drug lord who thinks he owns her.

What happens when the only way out of hell is with the son of the man who put you there? They say love conquers all, but does it really?

I watch Merri disappear, then I step into the hallway leading to the laundry room and smash my fist into the stony wall. It’s a stupid idea, but it makes my heart stop pounding so hard, and with the pain buzzing through my head, I’m not seeing red anymore. I walk back to the kitchen sink and run my bleeding, bruised knuckles under cold water while I try to get myself together.

I'm going to go after her, of course. We’re in this together—even if she doesn’t know it yet. And after we get back to the States, I'm going to beat my bastard father to a bloody pulp. I should have done it last time I saw him, and I hate myself because I didn't. I guess I was reserving final judgment for when I found 'Missy'. And the only reason for someone to do that is if they think that maybe—just maybe—it's the victim's fault.

I lower my hand to my side, glad to feel it pounding. I deserve it.

I draw the hand back up to my chest and work the fingers. The stinging, aching pain is nothing to the pain I've felt before, so it doesn't bother me that much. I don't think anything is broken.

I hold out both hands, the battered right one and the useless up left one, which hangs limp from my wrist. I look at my hands, and at the opulence of the room around me. I think about the dead man in the laundry room and the dead back at the convent clinic. I think about Merri racing down that hall because she couldn't stand to face me anymore, and my eyes sting.

I take my time down the hall to Merri's room. I practice some of my meditative breathing and try to send my emotions away for now. This is not about me.

I knock twice with my elbow and when she doesn't answer, I press my ear to the door. I can hear her sobbing.

Fuck.

I feel like a predator slipping into her dark room, but there's no way I'm going to stand out in the hall. I see the bump of her form on the bed, a curled-up ball that melds into the shadowed shapes of the pillows. More than anything, I want to lie beside her, but I'm not sure if I should.

“Merri?”

When her sobbing continues, I climb up on the bed and lie on my side, leaving a few inches of space between our bodies. I'm getting near wall-punching frustration levels again when I decide to take the small liberty of putting my hand on her back.

Within seconds, she rocks against me and I have my arm around her.

“That's right. Here.” I shift her closer to me, so her back's against my chest. My left arm is wrapped around her mid-section; her soft t-shirt tickling the upper part of my arm, where I still have feeling. Her sobbing doesn't sound as violent as it did a few moments ago, but she's still pretty upset.

Moving gently, slowly, I lower my face to the back of her head, nuzzling her hair. When her crying quiets a little, I brush my lips against her head and whisper in her ear. “It's okay, Merri. It's okay.”

I can feel her shake her head. I press my face against her hair and wish like hell that I could clasp my left hand around her. Really hold her. Half a heartbeat later, her hand comes up and clasps my arm. She folds me more tightly around her—effectively doing exactly what I’d wanted.

The room is quiet except for her gasping breaths. I can feel her frantic heartbeat underneath my arm, can feel her ribcage furiously pumping in and out. I continue whispering, a mantra of it's okays and shhhh, Merris.

I lie against her a little more and murmur, “It wasn’t your fault. No matter what you did, you didn’t deserve this.” Re-balancing my weight, I take my right hand from under my cheek, where it was propping me up, and use it to play with a strand of her hair. “Sometimes good people make mistakes. You know how you can tell if you're one of the good ones?”

“No,” she whispers, tiny in the dark.

“Because good people feel guilty afterward.”

For the longest time, I play with her sweet-scented hair. If I shut my eyes and allow myself to focus on the soft warmth of her against me, my cock gets the wrong idea, so I shift my legs where Merri can't feel it up against her back and try to focus on her hair.

“You're good at that,” she whispers hoarsely.

“This?” I twirl her hair around my finger and nuzzle the back of her head again. I'm not trying to come onto her, though I would like to; I can simply tell she needs to be touched. She needs to be held and cared for, and I'm happy to do it. She did the same for me.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “You must have sisters.”

Mention of my family pierces me, but I try not to let her feel the tension in my body. “No sisters. Just me.”

She waits a moment, and even though I don't have feeling in my hand, I can tell she's stroking my wrist and the tops of my fingers, on the side of my pinkie, where it's free of bandages.

“Is that uncomfortable?” she whispers.

“No.”

Some of the tension leaves her body. I can feel her sink into the mattress. I wonder how tired she is. Whether she was always afraid, back at the clinic. I wonder what her life was like with Jesus. But Merri’s not offering any stories. Just whispered questions.

“Where will I go when we get to the States?”

I don't even think before I answer. “With me.” “Really? You won't leave me when we get there?”

“No.” I wait a breath or two. My pulse sounds like a drum inside my ears. “I still want to know what happened,” I say. “It doesn't have to be right now. You can wait and get a notepad or a computer and write it for me if you don't feel like saying it. But I need to know. I won't let these people get away with what they did to you.”

A hoarse sound vibrates in her throat. “I'll tell you,” she whispers. “But Evan?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don't stop holding me.

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About the author:

I'm a Denver, Colorado author who writes teen and adult romance. I am happily married to a man who knows how to wield a red pen, and together we are raising a feisty two-year-old who will probably grow up believing everyone's parents go to war over the placement of a comma. My books have been listed on numerous Amazon bestseller lists, including the Amazon Top 100 and the Amazon Movers & Shakers List; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Young Adult Ebooks of 2012. To find out more about my projects and win prizes and swag, find me on Facebook at facebook.com/ellajamesauthorpage. Questions or comments? Tweet me at author_ellaj or e-mail me at ella_f_james@ymail.com.

You can find me here:

Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Cover Reveal + Excerpt + Giveaway: Wish I May by Lexi Ryan

It's also not a shocker that I'm a fan of Lexi Ryan. Ever since I read Unbreak Me, it's like my life hasn't been the same. I viewed love from a different perspective because of it. So I am very excited to be a part of the unveiling of Lexi Ryan's newest book, Wish I May (plus teasers too!) And I loooove it! (We'll also be posting teasers on Facebook so watch out for those.) Check it out:

Title: Wish I May

Author: Lexi Ryan

Publisher: Ever After, LLC

Publication date: October 8th 2013

I grew up wishing on stars.

My father taught me to believe…in destiny, in magic, in happily ever after. Dreams were my scripture and the starry night sky was my temple. Then Mom stopped believing, left him, and took us with her. At the age of sixteen, I cashed in my dreams to pay the rent, pawned my destiny to keep my sisters together.

Now, seven years later, I’m returning home, grieving the death of my mother, and settling my sisters back into the life Mom threw away. I never intended to stay. I don’t want to deal with my father, who is so invested in the spiritual world he forgets the physical. I don’t want to face William Bailey, whose eyes remind me of the girl I was, the things I’ve done, and the future I lost.
This would all be easier if Will hated me. As it is, I have to hold my secrets close so they won’t hurt him more than they’ve already hurt me. But he wants to be in my life. He wants what I can’t bring myself to confess I sold. He wants me.

I find myself looking to my stars again...wondering if I dare one more wish.

(Image and summary taken from Goodreads.)

Excerpt from WISH I MAY

© 2013 by Lexi Ryan

I can hardly breathe. My brain doesn’t have time for something as trivial as oxygen when it’s so busy cataloguing her features, memorizing the exact shade of her mocha eyes, warring with the anger and regret that have sprung to life as if they never left me to begin with.

I never thought I’d see her again. I didn’t think I wanted to.

The moment I step closer, I realize my mistake. Being near her is like a sip of water to desert-parched lips. It whips something through me—memories, lust, first love. Heartbreak. She tilts her lips up to mine, and I actually think for one goddamned ridiculous minute that I might kiss her, that I want to. That I would swallow all my pride and forgive her for just one taste.

I step back before I can give in to the impulse, and her cheeks blaze to life, her blush as cute as the rest of her. That’s the word for her: cute. Sweet smile and peppy ponytail, she exudes cuteness.

Except her ass. Her ass doesn’t even land in the same stratosphere as cute, and those tight little pants do nothing to hide its soft, round curves. And her breasts. There’s definitely nothing cute about the way her T-shirt stretches across their fullness. Or her go-for-miles legs. Not to mention the narrow strip of skin exposed between her shirt and pants. Just looking at the single inch of flesh below her navel, and I practically taste strawberry wine on my tongue.

Moonlight. Her warm skin under my tongue. The sound of her moan as my tongue dips lower.

The memory grabs hold of my senses and won’t let go.

Fuck. I can’t even lie to myself. Nothing about her says cute. Everything about her says sex. And mine.

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Release Day Launch: ARC Review + Giveaway: Everything For Us by M. Leighton

Title: Everything For Us (Bad Boys #3)
Author: M. Leighton
Pages: 336 pages
Format acquired: PDF (eARC)
Publisher: Berkley Publishing Group
Publication date: September 3rd 2013
Source: Received from publisher via NetGalley
Pre-order the book: Amazon / Barnes and Noble



When it comes to passion this hot, it’s all or nothing. 

Olivia Townsend’s wealthy cousin Marissa had everything a girl could ask for—a great job, a privileged life, and all the friends she wanted. Or, at least, all the friends money could buy. But one case of mistaken identity has turned her privileged world upside down.

An abduction gone wrong lands her right in the lap of the sexiest, most dangerous man she’s ever met. To Marissa, he’s an enigma, but one to whom she’s irresistibly, inexplicably drawn.

With him comes a new world of freedom and passion, of dark shadows and dangerous secrets, a world where nothing is what it seems—except for the blind passion that Marissa can’t escape—or maybe even survive.

Review:

I honestly didn't think that I would enjoy this book too much, but I did and I was thoroughly pleased that I ended up liking it a lot. I am a big M. Leighton fan (I have literally read all her books) and her Bad Boys series is one of my favorite book series, like, ever but throughout the first two books I have always disliked this one character... And yup, you guessed it, it's Marissa. I couldn't help but not like and since a bunch of people also didn't like her, I thought that it would be okay but then M. Leighton being the queen of surprises, she decided to write a story for Marissa and thus began my journey from really disliking Marissa to loving her like mad. (I just needed to get that out. Haha)

There was a constant push and pull between Nash and Marissa, their attraction and chemistry towards each other was evident right from the start but there was also a hesitancy on both parts. When one would try to let go of the rope, the other would end up pulling on it even more; their battle of wills was seriously going to give me whiplash but hey, nobody ever said that love was easy. I actually enjoyed their dance more than Cash and Olivia's because Nash and Marissa's relationship is just so dangerous and unpredictable that you just won't know what will happen between them till it does.

Moving on from my former dislike of Marissa, that girl is one strong-willed woman. (I am a woman, hear me roar!) But seriously speaking, she is so inspiring. I never expected her to grow into the character that she is now. Marissa, quite literally, transcended boundaries and evolved into someone far greater than she was before. She really let loose, you know? Gone was this vapid, manipulative, and mean she-devil and then came this changed woman with a better perspective in life. Marissa didn't completely change (no 360-turn, friends) but she was trying to be better, she was doing her best to redeem herself and that was what mattered because if you really thought about it, if someone suddenly changed into someone super different than they were before then it would seem insincere and not real but they way Marissa changed was slow but definitely progressing. Underneath all that meanness was a human being asking to be let out. I am really glad that I gave Marissa a chance (and you should too!)

There were times when I really wanted to cut off Nash's hair (not because he was in need of a haircut, but because he was frustrating the crap out of me). Don't get me wrong, I love the guy but he's just so... male, you know? I understand that he has a hard time trusting people and he doesn't want to get close to anyone but some of his interactions with Marissa made my heart ache. *sniffles* Nash has to be one of the most complicated characters I have ever read about, he is so complex. He may give off a hot but thuggish aura but remove his outer-layering and you have the guy who still wants to be a lawyer. My heart really hurts for Nash because everything was taken away from him, and he didn't deserve that. He was just another innocent victim dragged into the carnage. Yeah, he may be tough, but deep down, there's a real sweet guy in there (I speak nothing but the truth.) Every vulnerable side that he shows, the pain in my chest eases slowly. And can I just say? Nash is literally the epitome of what a bad boy should be. He is such a bad, bad boy. *saucy wink*

Everything For Us isn't only about the romance and its naughty bits, the Bad Boys series is mostly about the struggles of Nash and Cash and the weight on their shoulders. This book is... crazy. The action and intrigue is intensified and the conclusion is unbelievable. You will not be able to breathe until you finish this book, seriously.

Hot boys + badass-takes-no-shit girls + steamy romance + heart-stopping action = the perfect M. Leighton book. You will fall in love with this book, I mean it. While I may have been surprised by how much I enjoyed it, I made up for it because I really enjoyed this book even more than the first two. Everything For Us just feels more real and gritty compared to the other two. I love this series to bits! *flails* I'm crossing my fingers that this isn't the last I'll see of my Bad Boys, so here's to hoping! Till the next exciting M. Leighton book!

Rating:

.5

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About the author:

M. Leighton is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of The Wild Ones and The Bad Boys romance trilogies.  She is a native of Ohio, relocated to the warmer climates of the South, where she lets her mind wander to romantic settings with sexy Southern guys much like the one she married and the ones you'll find in her latest books.  When her thoughts aren't roaming in that direction, she'll be riding horses, swimming in ponds and experiencing life on a ranch, all without leaving the cozy comfort of her office.  

You can find her here:

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