Casting the Spotlight on Liana Brooks

Liana Brooks  Liana Brooks would like to SCUBA dive Europa (that moon around Jupiter), but with the NASA shuttle program shut down she’s resorted to writing science fiction instead. She likes southern beaches, warm weather, sharks, and striped socks. Her superhero romance series started with Evan Villains Fall in Love and continues with Even Villains Go to the Movies. For those who prefer their romance without a side order of spandex she’s written Prime Sensations (part of the Tales From the SFR Brigades anthology) and Fey Lights.

You can find Liana on the web at www.lianabrooks.com, on Twitter as @LianaBrooks, or on Facebook under the same name.

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EvenVillansMoviesPRfront_200x300When your mother is America’s Superhero Sweetheart and your daddy’s the Number One Super Villain, you grow up feeling a little conflicted.

Angela Smith has superpowers—nothing that will ever make her comic-book famous—but her ability to psychically sense and manipulate the emotions of people around her has drawn unwanted government attention. Forced to choose between her quiet life as a teacher under constant surveillance or the life of a rogue, she chooses the latter. She plans to hide out in sunny Los Angeles where being a blue-eyed blonde won’t make anyone bat a false eyelash.

Silver screen star by day, superhero by night, Arktos is a triple-threat. He can fly, freeze anything, and see glimpses of the future, all of which he needs to keep the city of Los Angeles safe, but which does nothing for his social life. When a frightening vision of an explosion leads him to rescue a damsel in distress, he finds himself trading Shakespearean insults with a rogue.

Angela knows just how dangerous well-intentioned superheroes can be: one tried to kill her family when she was young. Arktos knows he should hand the rogue over to Company justice; it’s not safe for someone like her to be in the middle of a fight.

But they can’t seem to stay apart. And together, they just might be able to melt all the obstacles standing between true love for a hero and a villain.

Buy: Even Villains Go To The Movies (Heroes and Villains Book 2)

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Angela tossed the red curls of her wig and parked Luiz’s bike in the alley behind the conference center. She hadn’t put on her Rage getup since arriving in L.A., but tonight the mental screams of terror echoing from the center warranted the kind of investigation that would attract questionable attention.

Tight black jeans, a bright red tank top that matched her hair, and a leather duster that was too heavy for the L.A. heat were a start. She’d added a black domino mask that obscured the shape of her nose and cheekbones when she’d moved to New York, because no one needed to see their favorite school teacher beating down the local thugs. The heart and star pendant around her neck— a little invention of her Daddy’s that would shield her from most things—completed the outfit.

The “most” still worried her some days.

Terror radiated from the building, escalating until the headache tearing into her brain was a living fire. Whatever was happening, she would hit back. Hard.

Checking to make sure the alley was empty, Angela sauntered toward the back door and hoped someone inside had been kind enough to leave it open. More often than not the people hired to cater at these places would stick a rock in the door to keep it from locking every time they slipped out for fresh air.

If not she could always pick the lock. Angela sighed. The whole point of moving away from her sisters was to avoid a life filled with crime and superheroes.

Angela reached for the door and someone hit her. A breeze ruffled her wig and she found herself on her back in the alleyway, staring up at a masked man. No hate tainted the aura around him, nothing that suggested that he was dangerous except that he was bigger than her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Hello?”

The man took a deep breath. “Hi.” He smelled like mint.

“I’m new to the area, so I’m not familiar with the protocol when you’re jumped by a masked man in an alleyway. Is there a secret handshake or something?” she asked, sarcastically.

“I’m here to save your life.”

Angela looked around for signs of danger. The man was the only thing in the alley, and he was cradling her, hand cushioning her head, muscular arms suspending him in a pushup so his body weight wasn’t resting on her.

“Right. What danger am I in, exactly?”

“The door is going to explode and kill you,” he said in a very serious tone.

She lifted her head to peer over his shoulder at the door. It was a mistake. The movement meant gyrating under him in his spandex suit, and she caught a whiff of cologne, soap, and clean sweat. His emotions shifted, becoming tinged with desire and arousal.

Angela cleared her throat and lay back down, trying to put space between herself and her captor. “Mm hmm. Tell you what, let me up and I’ll help you find your doctor. I bet someone is very worried about you missing your medicine.”

Buy: Even Villains Go To The Movies (Heroes and Villains Book 2)

Excerpt and Giveaway: Deadly Force by Misty Evans

DF CoverBook Summary: 

Some secrets can kill…

NSA agent Bianca Marx is determined to save her marriage, even if it kills her…which it just might do since she knows a secret about her estranged husband’s last mission that has put a target on her back. A highly-skilled assassin is hot on her trail and the only man who can keep her safe doesn’t want anything to do with her.
She’ll be dead in 24 hours…unless he can save her.

After his marriage failed, Navy SEAL Callan Reese threw himself into his work. On his last black ops mission, three of his men—three good men who counted on him—were killed. Now PTSD and a military investigation have sidelined him…until Bianca shows up. She claims someone high up in the US government wants her dead, and the assassin after her is also after him.

The couple that spies together, dies together…

On the run from the very government they serve, Bianca and Cal only have each other. When they uncover a deadly scandal threatening the nation, they’ll have one chance to save the day…and one last chance at love. 

Find Misty Evans on Amazon

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Misty Evans PhotoAbout the Author

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Misty Evans has published over twenty novels and writes romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance. As a writing coach, she helps other authors bring their books – and their dreams of being published – to life.

The books in her Super Agent series have won a CataNetwork Reviewers’ Choice Award, CAPA nominations, the New England Reader’s Choice Bean Pot Award for Best Romantic Suspense in 2010 and the ACRA Heart of Excellence Reader’s Choice Award for Best Romantic Suspense in 2011.

Her Witches Anonymous series was dubbed a Fallen Angel Reviews Recommended Read. The Super Agent Series, Witches Anonymous Series, and the Kali Sweet Series have been on multiple Amazon Kindle bestsellers lists. Her culinary romantic mystery, THE SECRET INGREDIENT, and the first book in her Deadly series, DEADLY PURSUIT, are both USA TODAY bestsellers.

Misty likes her coffee black, her conspiracy stories juicy, and her wicked characters dressed in couture. When not reading or writing, she enjoys music, movies, and hanging out with her husband, twin sons, and two spoiled puppies.

Find Misty Evans on Amazon

Connect with Misty:  Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads / Newsletter / Pinterest

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Excerpt from DEADLY FORCE

Bianca found a pair of binoculars on the bridge. As she stood hidden behind the navigation controls, wishing she’d worn more sea-worthy clothes, she watched Cal running back to the boat.

As per normal, he was in his element—water. He’d been a gifted swimmer even as a kid and had competed nationally in high school.

She’d never learned to swim. The best she could do was dog-paddle and even that was a struggle. Open water made her feel claustrophobic—the opposite of most people. Being in water over her head sent her into a full-fledged panic.

We really couldn’t be more opposite. But opposites did attract. In their case, that was both good and bad. From the day they’d met, she and Cal had come together, broken up, and come together again. First as friends, then as more.

Even now, she couldn’t deny the sexual chemistry between them. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him, every part of her body tingled when he looked at her. If only there weren’t so much bad stuff between them. She wished they could lay all the ugliness down, get out from under it for a few hours, and enjoy coming together once more.

Not just for the physical stuff. For the friendship. Cal had been her best friend since elementary school. She missed him.

While rain pelted the bridge’s windows, Bianca stood transfixed, unable to take her eyes off him. He ran with such ease, his tan face turned up to the rain as his long, sure strides ate up the distance between them. Her parts tingled and her heart beat erratically in her chest.

God, I love you.

She understood the science behind what she was feeling—the chemical releases going on in her brain. Cal was familiar. Cal was safe. Her most precious memories were tied to him. Her happiest times were rooted in him.

He may have been her polar opposite, but since the day he’d picked a shy girl up off the playground asphalt, brushed pieces of the sharp cinders from her knees, and raised his fists to the school bully who’d made her life hell, Cal had been her hero.

Even when he’d broken her heart.

Now it was time for her to repay the favor. This time the bully was the government she and Cal had sworn to serve. Standing up to that bully would cost her everything…her job, the quiet existence she enjoyed, and quite possibly her life. But the government had already taken the one thing she held most dear—Cal. She wouldn’t let them destroy him as well.

The dog ran by his side, completely soaked and tongue lolling from the side of its mouth. They hit the boardwalk and slowed to a jog. She was sure the dog was smiling.

Through the binoculars, Bianca could see the animal was missing vital male parts, so it must be female. That might explain the adoration in the dog’s eyes. Bianca had never met a female yet who could resist the absolute alpha male prowess Cal exuded.

Hell, she’d been at restaurants with him where the male waiters hit on him.

The thing none of them realized was that he was a very dangerous man. A weapon the US had trained and given specialized skills. When she told him about Senator Halston, Cal would want to use those skills on the man.

What to do? Could she keep her husband away from the senator until the worst of Cal’s anger subsided and she could convince him to go along with her rational, logical plan? Cal would be out for blood, and if he went after the senator his way—with violence—she’d be forced to rein him in.

She lowered the binoculars as Cal and the dog came aboard and headed down the stairs, oblivious to her in her hidden vantage point.

“B?” he called over the noisy rain, and his deep voice made her pulse jump. There was the usual irritated edge to his voice, but something else as well. “Where are you?”

Worry? Was that what she heard in his voice? Sure had been a hell of a long time since he’d worried about her.

She had to do this. She had to tell him. What happened after that would be up to him.

Leaving the binoculars behind, she flipped on the tiny camera she’d installed by the boat’s windshield so she could keep an eye on the marina’s entrance. Grabbing the handrail, she steadied herself. The storm might buy her an hour or two—keep Cal from going anywhere and slow down anyone searching for her—but she needed to figure out a way to keep him sequestered, and her ass out of the line of fire until she could find physical evidence against the senator she could take to the Justice Department. They wouldn’t bring him up on charges over hearsay.

And hearsay was all she had.

Bianca sighed. After what she’d put Cal through already, he was more likely to toss her overboard than become her bodyguard.

Find Misty Evans on Amazon

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Tour-wide giveaway includes a $25.00 Gift Card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble and a Digital or Print copy of Deadly Pursuit. Just fill out the Rafflecopter Form below to enter!

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Excerpt: The Marshal by Adrienne Giordano

The Marshal CoverBook Summary:

His painful past is their present danger.  The last thing US Marshal Brent Thompson needs is distraction from his work. But distraction—in the form of a sexy Chicago investigator—is exactly what he gets. Jenna Hayward is as alluring as she is determined, driven to help apprehend the murderer who killed Brent’s mother twenty-three years ago. With a shared mission—and a steadily rising attraction that jeopardizes Brent’s resolve to stay unattached—the pair must work together to get answers…before the murderer makes them his next victims.

Buy: The Marshal (Harlequin Intrigue)

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Chapter One from The Marshal

This was a switch.

Deputy U.S. marshal Brent Thompson stood in a Chicago hotel ballroom among a throng of impeccably dressed political big shots that, for once, he didn’t have to protect.

Tonight, he was a guest.

Whether that made him happy or not was anyone’s guess. But he’d stay another hour for Judge Kline, a woman he’d spent two years watching over after her husband and children were murdered by some nut who’d been on the losing end of a ruling. Judge Kline had ordered him to pay a $1,200 fine and somehow he was mad enough to wipe out her entire family, leaving her to deal with guilt and rage and heartache.

Crazy.

Sometimes—sometimes? Really?—Brent didn’t understand people. Or maybe it was their motivations he didn’t understand, but the human race baffled him.

Tonight Judge Kline, who’d refused to allow her life to collapse under grief, was smiling. A welcome sight since her eighty-five-year-old mother had decided to throw one hell of a shindig for the judge’s sixtieth birthday.

“Brent?”

Brent turned and found the ever-polished Gerald Hennings, Chicago’s highest-profile defense attorney, weaving through the crowd. Accompanying him was a petite blonde in a floor-length bright blue gown. She had to be over fifty, but may have had a little work done to preserve her extraordinary looks. Her perfect cheekbones, the big blue eyes and sculpted nose were duplicates of the ones Brent recognized from Hennings’s daughter, Penny. Didn’t take a genius to figure out this woman was Mrs. Hennings. Brent held his hand out. “Mr. Hennings. Nice to see you.”

Five months earlier, Brent had been assigned to protect Penny Hennings after yet another nut—plenty of nuts in his world—had attempted to kill her on the steps of a federal courthouse. Penny had nearly put Brent into a psych ward with her relentless mouthiness and aggressive attitude, but he’d formed a bond with her. A kinship. And, much like Judge Kline, they’d remained friends after his assignment had ended. For whatever reason, emotionally speaking, he couldn’t let either one of them go. The fact that they’d all experienced tragedy might be the common denominator, but he chose not to think too hard about it. What was the point? None of them would ever fully recover from their individual experiences. All they could do was move on.

Hennings turned to the woman at his side. “I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Pamela. Pam, this is Marshal Brent Thompson. He was the marshal.”

She smiled and—yep—he was looking at Penny in twenty-five years.

“I know,” Mrs. Hennings said. She stepped forward and gripped both of his arms. “Thank you.”

The gesture, so direct and heartfelt, caught him sideways and he stiffened. Freak that he was he’d never gotten comfortable with strange women touching him. Most guys would love it. Brent? He liked his space being his.

But he stood there, allowing Penny’s mother to thank him in probably the only way she knew how. He could go on about how he’d just been doing his job, which was all true, but even he understood that he’d worked a little harder for Penny. She reminded him too much of his younger sister, Camille, and he hadn’t been able to help himself. “You’re welcome. Your daughter has become a good friend. And if I ever need legal advice, I know who to call.”

Mrs. Hennings laughed.

Mr. Hennings swooped his finger in the air. “You’re not working tonight?”

“No, sir. Judge Kline is a friend.”

“How nice,” Mrs. Hennings said.

“Yes, ma’am. I worked with her for two years. She would always tell me if my tie didn’t match. That happened a lot.”

“As the mother of two sons, I’m sure your mother appreciates that.”

Mother.

Mr. Hennings cleared his throat and, in Brent’s mind, the room fell silent. He glanced around, looking for…what? Confirmation that the room at large wasn’t listening to his conversation?

Maybe.

All around people gabbed and mingled and pretty much ignored Brent. Imagined it. He exhaled and once again the orchestra music—something classical—replaced the fog in his brain.

He’d fielded comments about his mother almost his entire life. It should have been easier by now.

Except for the nagging.

Twenty-three years of gut-twisting, anger-fueled obsession that kept him prisoner. “My mother died when I was seven, ma’am.”

Social pro that she must have been, considering her husband’s wizardry with the press, Mrs. Hennings barely reacted. “I’m so sorry.” She turned to Gerald, shooting him the stink-eye. “I didn’t know.”

Moments like these, a guy had to step up and help his brother-in-arms. “No need to apologize. I think about her every day.” And knowing how this conversation would go, the curiosity that came with why and how such a young woman had died, Brent let it fly. “She was murdered.”

Social pro or not, Mrs. Hennings gasped. “How horrible.”

Brent sipped his club soda, gave the room another glance and came back to Mrs. Hennings. “My sister and I adjusted. We have a supportive family.”

“I hope they caught the person who did this.”

“No ma’am. It’s still an open case.”

A case that lived and breathed with him and had driven him into law enforcement. If the Carlisle sheriff’s office couldn’t find his mother’s killer, he’d do it himself.

“Are the police still looking into it?”

Brent shrugged. “If they get a tip or some new information. I work it on my downtime, but downtime is short.”

Mrs. Hennings, obviously still embarrassed by bringing up the subject of his dead mother, turned to her husband. “Can’t one of your investigators help? You do all sorts of pro bono work for clients. Why not this?”

“Pam, those are cases where we’re defending people. This is different.”

Brent held up his hand As much as he’d like help, he didn’t want a domestic war started over it. “Mrs. Hennings, it’s okay. But thank you.”

Still, down deep, Brent wanted to find the person who’d wrecked his family and had saddled him with a level of responsibility—and guilt—no seven-year-old should have known. Every day, the questions haunted him. Could he have helped her? Should he have done something when he first heard noise? Was he a crummy investigator because all these years later he still couldn’t give his mother justice?

At this point, if he couldn’t find this monster on his own, he’d take whatever help available. Ego aside, justice for his mother was what mattered.

Mrs. Hennings kept her gaze on her husband. “You were just complaining that Jenna is bored with her current assignments. After what Brent did for Penny, give Jenna his mother’s case to investigate. It’ll challenge her and keep her out of your hair. Where’s the problem?”

Hennings pressed his lips together and a minuscule, seriously minuscule, part of Brent pitied the man. If he didn’t agree with his wife, his life would be a pile of manure.

Mrs. Hennings shot her husband a meat cleaver of a look, then turned back to Brent. “My husband will call you about this tomorrow. How’s that?”

With limited options, and being more than a little afraid to argue because, hey, he was no dummy either, he grinned at Mr. Hennings. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

*

Jenna slid onto one of the worn black vinyl bar stools at Freddie’s Tap House, a mostly empty shot-and-a-beer joint on the North Side of Chicago.

How the place stayed in business, she had no idea. On this Wednesday night the sports bar down the block was packed, while the only people patronizing Freddie’s were an elderly man sitting at the bar and a couple huddled at a table in the back.

The bartender glanced down the bar at her and wandered over. “Evening. Get you something?”

You sure can.

“Whatever’s on tap. Thanks.”

He nodded and scooped a glass from behind the bar, pouring a draft as he eyed her black blazer and the plunging neckline on her cashmere sweater. “Haven’t seen you in here before. New in town?”

As much as she’d tried to dress down with jeans, she hadn’t been able to resist the sweater. When dealing with men, a little help from her feminine wiles—also known as her boobs—never hurt. “Nope. New in here though.”

“You look more Tiffany’s than Freddie’s.”

Already Jenna liked him. “Are you Freddie?”

“Junior.”

“Sorry?”

“Freddie Junior. My dad is Freddie. I took over when he retired.”

He slid the beer in front of Jenna. Once more she looked around, took in the polished, worn wood of the bar, the six tables along the wall and the line of empty bar stools.

“Slow night,” Freddie said.

Lucky me. She opened her purse, pulled out a fifty and set it on the bar. Next came the photo taken the week prior by a patron in this very bar. He glanced down at the fifty, then at the photo.

“I’m not a cop,” Jenna said. “I’m an investigator working for a law firm.”

“Okay.”

She pointed at the photo of two men with a woman in the background. Jenna needed to find that woman. “Have you seen her in here?”

He picked up the photo and studied it. “Yeah. Couple of times. When a woman like that walks into a beer joint, there’s generally a reason. Kinda like you.”

Figuring it was time to put her cleavage to work, Jenna inched forward, gave him a view of the girls beneath that V-neck and smiled. Most women would love the idea that a fifteen-pound weight gain had gone straight to their chest. Jenna supposed it hadn’t hurt her ability to claw information from men—and maybe she used it to her advantage. But she also wanted to be recognized for extracting the information and not for the way she’d done it.

Did that even make sense? She wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew was her need for positive reinforcement had led her to using her looks to achieve her goals. That meant wearing clingy, revealing clothing. Such a cliché. But the thing about clichés was they worked.

“Any idea what her reason for being here was?”

Freddie took the boob-bait and leaned in. “No. Both times she met someone. Why?”

All Jenna could hope was he’d gotten the woman’s name. “My client is being held on a robbery charge. He says he was in here the night of the robbery and he met this woman. Her name is Robin.”

“Where’d you get the picture?”

“Friends of my client.”

He dropped the picture on the bar and tapped it. “Birthday party, right?”

“Yes. My client and six of his friends. Any idea where I can find her?”

“Nah.”

“Did she pay by credit card?”

If she paid by credit card, there would be a record of the transaction, and Jenna would dig into the Hennings & Solomon coffers and pay Freddie a highly negotiated sum for a look at his credit card receipts. From there, she’d get a name and two calls later would have an address for Robin-the-mystery-woman.

“Cash.”

Shoot.

Freddie may have been lying. Jenna studied him, took in his direct gaze. Not lying. At least she didn’t think so. Again with the wavering? Didn’t she have a good sense about these things? Yes, she did. For that reason she’d go with the theory that Freddie seemed to be a small-business owner who wanted to stay out of trouble while trying to make a living. She dug her card and a pen out of her purse, wrote her cell number on the card and placed it next to the fifty on the bar.

“How about I leave you my card? If she comes in again and you call me, there’s a hundred bucks in it for you.”

Freddie glanced at the card. After a moment, he half shrugged. “Sure. If I see her.”

Jenna took one last sip of her beer, slid off the stool and hitched her purse onto her shoulder. “Thanks.” She nodded toward the fifty. “Keep the change.”

Buy: The Marshal (Harlequin Intrigue)

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Giordano Author PhotoAbout the Author

USA Today bestselling author Adrienne Giordano writes romantic suspense and mystery.  She is a Jersey girl at heart, but now lives in the Midwest with her workaholic husband, sports obsessed son and Buddy the Wheaten Terrorist (Terrier). She is a co-founder of Romance University blog and Lady Jane’s Salon-Naperville, a reading series dedicated to romantic fiction.

Connect with Adrienne:  Website / Newsletter / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads / Street Team

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Excerpt: Tail Lights by Connie L. Smith

BookCoverPreviewBlurb: Preston and Nick endured the breakup of all breakups when Nick accused her of cheating on him. He insisted, and she denied while the rain pounded against her driveway and thunder roared in the distance. Then they both ran – Preston to a life of Rock and Roll, and Nick to a career in the Army.

Over four years later, they’re damaged and broken almost beyond repair. He’s carrying baggage from his military days, and she bears the scars of living a lifestyle she’s grown to hate.

When Preston’s label forces her to take time away from music, their paths cross in a parking lot not twenty-four hours after her hometown return, anger and sparks flying in a confusing blend. But regardless of the feelings neither has been able to shake, too many lies and secrets stand in the way of the one thing they need in order to recover.

Each other.

Buy: Tail Lights (Lyric Series Book 1)

Excerpt:

Surprisingly, he was leaving his apartment when I reached his floor, and he smiled at me like no animosity existed between us. “Hey, Preston.”

Hey, Preston,” I mocked, then held up the figurine and fastened a glare on him. “Take it back.”

He had the nerve to smirk. “How do you know I gave that to you?”

“Who else would leave a dolphin on my doorstep besides the guy who knows I love dolphins and wants to suddenly fix four years’ worth of betrayal?” His smirk disappeared, and I shoved the object closer to him. “Take it back.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want it back.”

“Well, I don’t want it ether.” When he arched a brow, I rolled my eyes. “Okay, it’s cute. It’s absolutely adorable, and it would look fantastic on my end table, but I can’t take this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know what it means! You made a mistake, and you’re trying to make up for it. But it’s too late, Nick. And if I take this, it’s like saying that you have a chance to make things right, and you don’t.”

His brow again lifted. “You sure about that?”

I frowned. “Which part?”

With a grin, he shrugged in an almost casual manner, far too comfortable in a conversation that made me anxious. Evidently he’d meant what he said about mending things between us, and he wasn’t about to let my reservations ruin his determination. “You’re absolutely right about what the dolphin means, but are you sure I can’t make things right?”

“I’m so far beyond sure that sure isn’t even in my line of sight anymore.” I held the dolphin farther out, hoping that he’d take it. “I can’t keep clinging to things that weren’t good for me in the first place if I want my next four years to be any better than the last four years.”

Then he scowled. “And you think I wasn’t good for you in the first place?”

“I know you weren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t have believed Dad and dumped me, and…” Sighing, I waved the figurine in his direction. “Take it.”

“Your sentence trailed off,” he pointed out, a small smile forming on his lips. “That’s a good sign for me.” Eyes on me, he stepped closer, completely invading my personal space and causing the hand holding the dolphin to fall back against my stomach. After a moment of silently looking at me, so intense and needing, he pointed a finger at my face.

“That’s exactly why I can’t take it back,” he whispered. His finger moved to brush my hair behind my ear, trailing along my jaw before tracing my lips. I knew I should move, slap his hand away, something. But I couldn’t. I just stared, my mouth gaping in shock, my mind consumed with Nick and his caresses. “That was the biggest mistake of my life. And you are my life.”

His index finger exchanged for his thumb, outlining my bottom lip over and over. “I should’ve fought for this, and I’m not making the same mistake twice. I’m getting my life back.” Then he stepped away, gesturing at the dolphin. “That’s only the first step.” Turning, he walked to the stairway entrance at the other end of the hall, leaving me standing – still gawking where he’d been and suddenly holding the dolphin figure much tighter.

Buy: Tail Lights (Lyric Series Book 1)

Untitled2Author Bio:

Connie L. Smith spends far too much time with her mind wandering in fictional places. She reads too much, likes to bake, and might forever be sad that she doesn’t have fairy wings. And that she can’t swing dance. Her music of choice is severely outdated, and as an adult she’s kind of obsessed with Power Rangers. She has her BA from Northern Kentucky University in Speech Communication and History (she doesn’t totally get the connection either), and is currently working on her MA.

Links:

Main Site/Blog: http://clsmithbooks.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/clsmithbooks

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7257320.Connie_L_Smith

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/conniel0194/

Readwave: http://www.readwave.com/connie.l.smith/

Spotlight: Sins of an Angel by Ishabelle Torry

Sins of an Angel_140x210Blurb:

Seven Deadly Sins… One tempted angel…

As an Angel of Mercy, Nayla’s duty is to collect the souls of the mortals who’ve given up on life and return them to the Guff for rebirth. But her loyalty to duty is challenged when she’s sent to destroy the essence of Grant Farris. Calling upon the Archangel Michael, she begs for leniency. After all, how can one be happy when all one has known is pain?

Grant has no idea that his eternal soul is facing total annihilation. As far as he’s concerned, this life can go straight to hell…which is exactly what Lucifer intends. But when the angel Nayla interferes and is granted mortality to aid in Grant’s redemption, Lucifer realizes an even better opportunity. He could have his very own Angel of Mercy!

Can Nayla save Grant’s soul without losing her own to temptation?

Buy: Sins of an Angel

Excerpt:

The smell of cinnamon teased Nayla’s nose. She licked her lips. “I didn’t see it set out earlier. Perhaps just a small bite then?”

The server scooped a chunk onto her plate with a smile. “Bon appetite.” She winked.

Nayla plopped down into her seat across from Grant and anxiously dipped her spoon into the steaming apple dessert. She closed her eyes as the warmth of the fruit and spices melted on her palate. She scooped a bigger piece up and shoved it into her watering mouth, licking the spoon clean.

“Is that good?” Grant sniggered. “You seem to be enjoying it”—his gaze dropped to the newly clean utensil still pressed to her lips—”a lot.”

Heat spread across her cheeks and down her neck. “I must confess, this is the most delicious thing I can recall ever eating. What is it named again?”

“Apple pie. A good ol’ American favorite.”

“Oh. I love it! Do you like to eat pie?”

Grant grunted, his dark eyes darting back to his own plate with a grin. “Oh man, do I love…pie.”

She scraped up another bite. Excited over sharing something in common, she held her spoon out across the table. “I insist you eat a piece of my pie then! It is marvelous.”

Grant’s fork clattered to the table. He sat back, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I think I’m going to skip dessert today.”

Nayla leaned over the table, swaying the apple pie before him. “Just one bite…one lick? I dare say you won’t regret it.” Her Slavic accent rolled the “r” in regret.

His mouth clamped down on the spoon, pulling it away from her hand. He swallowed the bite without really chewing, tossing the silverware on his plate. “Eat the muffin, Nayla. We have to leave soon.”

Buy: Sins of an Angel

About the Author:

At the age of fourteen, Ishabelle Torry stole her first romance novel, Warrior’s Lady by Madeline Baker, from her mother’s glass “no-no” cabinet. It was then Ishabelle fell in love with the idea of new worlds, love conquers all, and the ability to forget the real world as she took on the lives of characters that were just as real as the people she interacted with every day. It wasn’t long before her fixation with romance novels landed her in the high school office to collect the books confiscated during the previous week. Ishabelle swore one day she’d write the kind of book that would keep readers so enthralled, they’d too risk confiscation to keep turning the pages!

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