Friday, December 2, 2016

Sheila Kell's HIS Chance

Does it count if you can’t remember?
Title: HIS Choice
Series: HIS #4 Stand-alone
Author: Sheila Kell
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: February 17th
Photographer: Eric Battershell
☆Amazon US ➔
☆Amazon UK ➔ http://bit,ly/HisChance-UK
☆Amazon AU ➔
☆Amazon CA ➔
Does it count if you can’t remember?

Meet the hot-bodied men of Hamilton Investigation & Security (HIS) as they do whatever it takes to protect the women who have stolen their hearts.

Devon Hamilton, the HIS eyes and ears, hasn’t taken off his headset since joining his brothers. But when Rylee Hawkins may be in trouble, the radio waves fall silent as he steps away from the command center and into the field. He soon discovers she's on a dangerous quest to find two girls who disappeared on her final FBI op.

Making a bargain, Devon agrees to help Rylee to get what he wants—her. He doesn’t realize the real danger she’s in, until it’s too late and she is abducted. Her kidnapper taunts Devon, threatening to sell her into the seedy underworld of human sex slave trafficking. Refusing to lose her, he gears up for a fight, and like their one hot night in Vegas—all bets are off.
**HIS Return is the forth book in the HIS Series. Each book can be read as a stand-alone, with no cliffhanger endings.

Hamilton Investigation & Security: HIS series
Books do not have to be read in order 

HIS Desire (Jesse & Kate) 
HIS Choice (AJ & Megan) 
HIS Return (Jake & Emily)

Cover Reveal - Feral (A Real Man #7) by Jenika Snow

Coming Decmeber 8th

She’s about to find out exactly how much he wants her…


I’ve been fascinated with him for years.

He’s wild and lives alone, and everyone has been smart enough to keep their distance.

Except me, that is.

Until now.

I see something in him that I see in myself, and I want to explore that. He’s untamed and raw, and maybe dangerous.

But that’s exactly what I need.

It’s what I want.


She shouldn’t have come to me, but now that she’s here, I can’t let her go.
I don’t do well around others, so going off the grid has been for the best.

What Lexi doesn’t know is that I’ve noticed her for years and wanted her as mine for just as long. It would be safer if I kept her at a distance, which I’ve managed to do … but I can’t anymore.

I won’t.

I hope she’s ready to be mine, because she’s about to see exactly how feral I can be where it concerns her.

Warning: This book is wild and dirty, short and smutty. Sure, it’s unbelievable, and features a celibate recluse who will make the woman he wants his at all costs, but who doesn’t like it that way? If you are into an over the top alpha hero, and some filthy goodness, dive in.

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.

Author Links

Hockey Christmas by Naomi Niles

hockeychristmasfbbanner hockey-christmas Synopsis Miles is a beloved hockey player for a Minnesota team, while Danielle is a college student, studying to be a teacher. You wouldn’t expect the two to have their paths cross given their wildly different lives, but cross they do. Cynthia, Danielle’s sister, has her eye on a completely different hockey player than Miles. In an effort to meet the man of her dreams, she has Danielle introduce herself to Miles. With a little lie to get things going, Miles and Danielle quickly find themselves falling for each other. Is this happily ever after? Not if you ask them. Long-distance relationships don’t appeal to either of them, and Danielle is only in Minnesota for winter break. Can they make it work? OUAA_Header_KindleUnlimited



Private by Xavier Neal

Mogul or Monster?
Billionaire Weston Wilcox hasn't been seen by the outside world in almost a decade. No face to face meetings. No interviews. No social media accounts. Despite his ghost demeanor he continues to financially flourish and make his fellow investors richer with every decision. Throughout the years many have sought to discover the man inside the mogul while others have spread legends painting him as a heartless monster consumed by greed. None of it matters to him. Weston's true identity is secured away in his estate of solitude, which consists of the only people in the entire world he believes he can trust. That is until he's asked to allow a guest access to the property under extreme circumstances. One he knows he shouldn't. It doesn't take long before his world is turned upside down, unexpected threats arise, and Weston's forced to ask himself what really should be kept private?

(Please Delete if not reviewing)

Xavier Neal is an up and coming Author and Blogger. She lives in Texas where she spends her time getting lost in writing and reading. She loves Tex-mex, fandoms, and laughing. Feel free to spend her a message any time! 


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Wrapped in Lace by Prescott Lane (.99 Cent Sale)

Wrapped in Lace by Prescott Lane is available for this week for only 99c

Do not miss this beautifully written story while it's priced so ridiculously low.


AP new - synopsis.jpg

When I was a little boy, the best thing about the holiday season was unwrapping presents on Christmas morning — tearing off the paper and tossing it on the floor. Now that I’m a man, I like to unwrap slowly, deliberately, taking my time to savor what lies before me. I still like to throw the wrapping on the floor, but now I know the best gifts come wrapped in lace.

And unlike when I was a kid, I won’t get sick of this present by New Year’s. I’ll definitely be playing with this girl day after day after day.

After six years avoiding my hometown, the last thing I expected when I returned was a wannabe bad girl to unwrap my heart and rip open my soul. But that’s exactly what happened. Now if I can just get the hell out of my own way, maybe I’ll finally get the best gift of all — her!

Come get unwrapped by Drew this holiday.


I sat back and studied the canvas.  I’d finally gotten it right — the way his lips turn up in that smile that makes both my heart and panties melt.  It had taken me over a dozen tries to get it just perfect, but I finally had.  Unfortunately, I didn’t feel any better.  I thought if I could capture Drew’s smile on my canvas, my pain would somehow lessen.  Because I’d always have his image, that his leaving me wouldn’t hurt so bad.  It hadn’t worked.  The pain in my heart was just as sharp, just as overwhelming as it was yesterday and the day before.  I knew I’d never get over him.  I knew it like I knew the deep blue color of his eyes, the rough spots on his hands.  I knew it like I knew the way his lips tasted, the feel of his thick brown hair.

AP  new -about the author.jpg
Prescott Lane is the Amazon bestselling author of Stripped Raw. She's got five other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace and her new release, Layers of Her. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College with a degree in sociology. She went on to receive her MSW from Tulane University, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life. Connect with Prescott Lane on


Snowed and Giveaway by Maria Alexander

Maria Alexander
Publication date: November 2nd 2016
Genres: Fantasy, Mystery, Young Adult

Charity Jones is a 16-year-old engineering genius who’s much-bullied for being biracial and a skeptic at her conservative school in Oak County, California. Everything changes when Charity’s social worker mother brings home a sweet teen runaway named Aidan to foster for the holidays. Matched in every way, Charity and Aidan quickly fall in love. But it seems he’s not the only new arrival: Charity soon finds the brutally slain corpse of her worst bully and she gets hard, haunting evidence that the killer is stalking Oak County. As she and her Skeptics Club investigate this death and others, they find at every turn the mystery only grows darker and more deadly. One thing’s for certain: there’s a bloody battle coming this holiday season that will change their lives – and human history – forever.

Will they be ready?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble


I can hear Mom and Dad chatting in the living room, asking questions. Another softer voice with a strange accent gives staccato answers.
“Charity?” Mom calls out. She sounds annoyed.

I shuffle through the foyer, inhaling the smell of baking lasagna. When I enter the family room, Mom and Dad are sitting on the couch with mugs, tea bag tags draped over the edges. Some guy I don’t know sits with them in the easy chair. I can’t help checking him out. He’s my age, average height, with skin pale as cream and wavy ebony hair. His light blue eyes shimmer under long, inky lashes. His wrinkled, striped dress shirt is much too big for his narrow shoulders, and his scuffed black boots with pointed toes peek out from the cuffs of his baggy jeans. He gives off a weird vibe, like he’s been in prison or working for suicide bombers.

He must be a stray.

My mom’s a social worker. She’s always bringing home people for meals. Damaged people.

Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders, kissing my ear. “Where have you been? Did you get my message?”

I shake my head.

“Hey. How’d it go?” Dad hugs me as well. I kiss his big scruffy face.

They are being very nice. Something’s up.

“Not great. I’ll tell you later.” I stare at our visitor.

“Charity, this is Aidan MacNichol. Aidan, this is my daughter, Charity.”

“How do you do?” He holds out his hand. His eyes barely meet mine. His voice is a notch higher than I expect and kind of sing-song. What century is this guy from? Who says stuff like that?

“Hi,” I say and give him The Boneless Hand. I’m touching you but I’m not happy about it.

Except I am. His skin is incredibly soft, like my mom’s charmeuse dress. He

lets go. At the last second, I almost don’t.

And he almost doesn’t, either.

“Where’s your brother?” Dad asks.

“I don’t know. In jail?”

“Charity, stop it,” Mom sighs.

“What? I never know where he is.”

A car roars into the gravel driveway. It must be Charles’ ride. The music escaping the car windows sounds like someone is grinding the air into steel shavings. As the car retreats, Charles bursts through the front door and makes for the staircase.

“Hey! Charles, come here.” Dad motions to him.

Charles looks as if he’d rather snack on rat poison than join us, but he does.

“Hey.” Charles lifts his chin at Aidan. Aidan nods back.

“We want to talk to you guys.” Mom puts her hand on Aidan’s shoulder.

“Aidan is going to be staying with us for a little while.”

“This is bullshit,” Charles announces and heads for the staircase. He looks

at Aidan. “No offense.”

“Hey, get back here!” Dad yells.

“No family meeting? You just drop this on us?” I ask.

Mom looks mortally offended. “Charity!”

“It’s not fair. We never get a say in anything that happens around here. Not about Aunt Bulimia—”

“Aunt Bellina.”

“Or the dog I wanted?”

“Honey, you know Charles is allergic.”

“The only thing he’s allergic to is school!”

“Shut up, Cherry.” Charles glares at me, his hamster face squinching up.

“We have guests from my work all the time,” Mom says, “and you’ve never cared before.”

“Yeah, for dinner.”

Aidan slinks back, hands in his pants pockets. He watches the sky through the sliding glass door on the far wall of the living room. He’s humming a familiar tune under his breath. I can’t quite place it.

“I should go.”

Aidan’s announcement cuts through the room. Everyone falls silent.

“I can’t stay here,” he says. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. You’ve been very kind.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Aidan.” Mom invokes The Voice. It’s from her days as a trial lawyer. “If you leave, I have to call the authorities. You’re underage, your legal residency is in question, and the county has put you in our care. You can stay with us or you can go to juvy.” Mom darkened. “I don’t recommend juvy.”

“Neither does Charles,” I say.

“Shut up, Cherry!”

Aidan sighs. “I don’t know what this ‘juvy’ is but I suppose I don’t want to go.”

“Are you from like England or something?” Charles asks.

Aidan looks confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Where is he sleeping?” I ask.

“Your room,” Dad says.

My face heats with horror. I bury it in my hands.

“Kidding!” Dad says, throwing an arm around me for a bear squeeze.

“Sewing room. Now let’s have some chow.”

Mom shuttles us to the dining table. She interrogates Charles as to why he stinks like cigarette smoke, but he claims it’s from riding with his friend Noah. I say nothing. As we set the table, she brings out the salad and lasagna, which smells heavenly.

Humiliation and disappointment haven’t affected my appetite at all, apparently. I wish something would.

I notice that Aidan holds the fork like he’s strangling it. He scrapes the plate. Everyone winces. Where is this guy from? And why is he so strange? Who doesn’t know how to use a fork?

I want to flee to my room to cry but I can’t. I want to make up with Keiko. I feel terrible about that fight. But Mom has laid down the law: No running off before the meal is over. Supposedly this encourages Charles to stay put and bond with us. If I ran upstairs and flung myself onto the bed now, I’d be doubly busted because we have a guest. I just want to be alone and this weird stranger is keeping me from my snug room where I can just melt down.

“Are you all right?” Aidan looks at me, concerned. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t

you who misbehaved at school today.”

Wait—what? How could he know? Or does he?

Mom shoots Aidan an anxious look, then me. “Honey, is there something going on?”

“Cherry started a riot at school today,” Charles offers.

“A riot?” Dad eyes me with disbelief.

“Shut up! That’s not what happened!”

“And then she made the Christian girls cry.”

“Charity!” Mom says. “Was this your club?”

“Mom, I didn’t do anything to anyone.”

“Then they sent Cherry like a million text messages so she can’t use her phone anymore.” Charles beams with triumph.

I want to slam his face into the Pyrex dish. “You! Did you give them my cell number?” My face heats with the rage. My hand balls into a fist on the table.

“That’s enough.” Dad points at Charles. “Did you give out your sister’s cell number?”

“Of course not,” Charles says, indignant. Dad eyes him suspiciously, but lets it drop. There is no justice.

Mom wearily passes Dad the wine bottle. “Charity, what happened?”

“Nothing. I put up a flyer about the Skeptic’s Club and the BFJs picketed my meeting, calling me a lot of unspeakable names. They harassed everyone who was there. They were harassing me with texts calling me a Satanist even before the club meeting. I had to turn off my phone. That’s why I didn’t get your call.” Tears scald the corners of my eyes.

“Where were the school officials?” Mom asks. “I can’t believe they let this happen!”

“Don’t worry. Mr. Vittorio told me he’s reporting it. He’s the librarian.”

Aidan sits with his hands folded in his lap, eyes trailing to the window.

Mom narrows her eyes at Dad and polishes off her glass of wine.

And then there’s Keiko… I can’t take it anymore. I manage to stand up and choke out, “Excuse me,” before dashing for my room.

I hear Charles complaining behind me. “So Cherry gets to have a tampon tizzy and get out of dishes?”

I slam the door and the tears spill out. As I fall on the bed, I look to Mr. Spotty and Miss Yoyodyne, who squat beside my desk. These aren’t stuffed animals. They’re robots I built. I feel like kicking one of my plastic component bins but I hurt so much, I just double over on the bed.

Footsteps pound up the stairs and Mom taps on my door. I know her knock.

“Come in.”

Mom sits on the bed and hugs me. Between sobs, I tell her what happened with Keiko.

“Honey, these people are serious bullies. Do you want me and Dad to talk to the principal?”

“No. That’ll only make it worse. Besides, the school says they’ll deal with it. Can we wait and see what happens?”

She looks unconvinced, wiping hair out of my eyes. “If they lay a hand on you…”

“…I have a good lawyer.”

After Mom leaves, I text Keiko.

I’m so sorry, K. Please don’t be mad. I won’t put up any more flyers. I promise! Xoxo

As I read One Hundred Years of Solitude for AP English, I can hear thebumps and scrapes of Dad and Charles setting up the cot in the sewing room. Despite his protests, Charles enjoys showing off that he can lift more than Dad, who had back surgery several months ago. Mom digs through the sewing room closet. “We’ll get you more clothes this weekend,” I hear her tell Aidan. They wish each other a good night.

After two long hours of AP Calculus followed by Honors Chemistry and French, I eventually crawl into bed, exhausted and wishing that I believed in something—anything—that I could pray to and make things okay with Keiko.

Everything falls quiet except for Aidan. I hear him humming. The wall is thin between us.

I remember hearing Mom crying in the sewing room after we first moved here. She and Dad weren’t getting along. I hate thinking of my mom being weak. She has to be strong, the badass lawyer who torches anything in her way with her words. I love her for that. To hear her sobbing was haunting.

Aidan keeps humming. It’s that same tune as before but this time I know what it is.

Carol of the Bells.

A Christmas song.

Author Bio:

Maria Alexander is a produced screenwriter, published games writer, virtual world designer, award-winning copywriter, interactive theatre designer, fiction writer, snarkiologist and poet. Her short stories have appeared in numerous publications and acclaimed anthologies alongside living legends such as David Morrell and Heather Graham.

Her debut novel, Mr. Wicker, won the 2014 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a First Novel. She's represented by Alex Slater at Trident Media Group.

When she's not wielding a katana at her Shinkendo dojo, she's being outrageously spooky or writing Doctor Who filk. She lives in Los Angeles with two ungrateful cats and a purse called Trog.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter

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