Friday, July 31, 2015

The Truth of Tristan Lyons by L.B. Dunbar





Title: The Truth of Tristan Lyons
Series: Legendary Rock Stars #4
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Rock Star Romance
 Release Date: July 27, 2015



Blurb

Heartbreaker.

I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.

I need a break. I want to be alone. I'm not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I'm not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she's here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren't they?

Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.

Until her.







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Excerpt

The Truth of Tristan Lyons excerpt © L.B. Dunbar

I wanted to know who she was. Scratch that, I didn’t care who she was. I wanted to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes.  They knew no shame. 
“Hey,” I said grabbing her upper arm. “How did you get in here?”
She seemed caught unaware of my approach and screamed loudly, pushing at my chest hard enough, the sheer surprise forced me to let go of her.
With her hand on her chest and her breasts rising and falling in great agitation, I was able to see her big blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and catch her breath.
Standing up almost as quickly as she bent over, she spoke to me through delicious looking pink lips.
“Who the fuck are you?” she growled.
“Who the fuck, are you?” I returned.
“I’m…”
“You know what, never mind. You need to go,” I said, cutting her off and reaching for her upper arm again. “I don’t know how you got in here, where you came from, or how you found me, but you need to go.”
I began to tug her toward the front entry, her feet sliding in her flip-flops across the tile flooring. She pulled back, and the force made her skid on an angle across the slippery surface as I dragged her. She continued to glare at me quizzically, leaning away from me.
“I don’t know what you are talking about?”
“Did you follow me, is that it? See me in the airport?”
“What?”
“Okay, I love you too, now you need to go. Okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am?”
“I don’t.”
I stopped, still holding firmly to her arm. Something in her voice sounded like she was being serious.
“I’m Tristan.”
She blinked, confusion clearly on her face. I was thoughtful for a moment. It was the innocence in her blue eyes, and the fact she looked like she might cry. Something wasn’t right with this scenario.
“Trist – an,” I said slowly, as if she had some type of hearing impairment.
“Who?”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Country,” she answered so quickly, she didn’t even blink an eye or stop for thought. On top of that, she said it in such a way that showed she was thoroughly confused, and almost disgusted with me, for even asking such a ridiculous question. She wrinkled her nose.
“Look, I know the owner, and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know the owner,” I repeated, “and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said, pulling at her own arm again and sticking out a hand to press against my chest as leverage. I had tugged my shirt off at some point while I was passed out, and her warm hand felt good on my air-conditioned cool skin. Her hand was tiny, I noticed. All of her was thin.
“I’m supposed to be here. Alone,” I emphasized again.
She didn’t respond, so I added, “I think I’ll just call the owner myself, to see where the mix up is.”
“No,” she blurted, stopping in her physical struggle against me. Her eyes opened even wider, if that was possible, and her face was suddenly full of something I couldn’t read. Her blue eyes brightened in a frightening sort of way. Was that fear? Good, she should be afraid.
“Please. I swear. I’m allowed to be here. You don’t need to call Isa.” 
She had me. I didn’t really know who Isa was, and the girl sounded confident enough that I let her call my bluff.
“If there is a mistake, and you were scheduled to stay as well, I won’t complain. As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in your way. You won’t even know I’m here. I plan to keep to myself.”  Her eyes were glassy, and again I worried she was about to cry.
I released her arm and she pulled it back quickly. She fisted the hand of that arm, holding it against her chest. She began rubbing her upper arm with the opposite hand. I noticed again that she was thin, as were her breasts. I didn’t care for small chested girls. I didn’t care for her.
“Well, I’m Tristan, whom you claim to not know, and you are?”
“I’m…Ireland.”
“Ireland what?”
“Just…Ireland.”
I shook my head.
“So this is how we’re going to play it? Fine, my Irish Isle. What are you doing in the Caymans?”
She looked at me for a moment, then leaned toward me and sniffed. She held the disgusted expression on her face and wrinkled her nose as she pulled back.
“Probably the same thing as you.”
“Drinking myself into oblivion?” I laughed, crossing my arms over my bare chest defensively.
“Hiding,” she replied.







Author Bio


L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?

As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.

I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.

So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.

I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.
 

L.B. Dunbar






Author Links

He Found Me Series by Whitney Barbetti









He Found Me: 

When I was seventeen, I disappeared. I walked out the door of my apartment with a backpack and never looked back. I left the life of Cora Mitchell behind, seeking freedom from my real-life nightmare. But my freedom came with a cost. I lived a fictitious life for the next six years, never letting anyone close enough to see underneath the facade that was Andra Walker. I was content with my simple little life. Until I met Julian. And the moment I started allowing myself to open up, allowing someone to see through the superficial, was the very same moment the Monster from my past would return to find me.




He Saved Me: 

Julian
I’ve come to understand that I’ll always find her. She’s my north star, my sense of direction. In her, I’ve found my home. She tells me I saved her. But the truth is, she saved me.

But nothing good can ever last. Andra’s keeping secrets. She’s holding something back. I’m trying, desperately, to anchor her. To let me in, to let me help.

But will all my efforts end up with a ghost of a girl I love?

Other
I'm used to disappearing. Vanishing into thin air, without a trace of who I've been or where I've gone.

But it’s so much harder to do with a broken heart and no hope for a happy ending. Sometimes the only people who can put all the pieces of us back together are the ones we least expect to. That's what Julian did for me.

Julian found me. But now, all Six wants is to keep me locked up, away from the world, away from the Monster. I can't live like that. It's not living at all. Because I still have unfinished business.

And I'm going to make sure the Monster gets what’s coming to him















I like nachos and champagne and clean sheets. I spend far too much time at Starbucks. I wrote a couple books



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To Mate an Assassin by Ceri Grenelle

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 To Mate an Assassin by Ceri Grenelle 
Publication Date: July 28, 2015 


To Mate an Assassin Cover


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Synopsis: Love is her enemy…until his beast sets her free.
Cymbeline Kendall’s life is quiet, solitary—until a letter appears in her P.O. box. Then she becomes an Incendiary, a human chosen at birth to be trained to strike like lightning to take out the most dangerous of the Werekind, then fade back into the shadows. She is a weapon only to be used by the leader of North American shifters. But when she learns the Alphar was unseated three years ago, she sets out to find who’s been pulling her trigger. Kerrick Masterson has borne the burden of leadership for only a short time, yet he already feels the Alphar power tempting his soul toward the insanity that destroyed his predecessor. He has no time for the woman who breaks into his compound claiming to be his Incendiary, but his beast insists he make the time—for his mate. In one searing, soul-consuming breath, everything Cymbeline was taught to believe is ripped away. Yet the mystery of who’s been sending her orders remains…and finding the answer could lead to all-out war. Warning: Contains an assassin who doesn’t tolerate those who hurt the weak, and a shifter leader determined to unlock his new mate’s repressed emotions—even if that puts his balls at risk. Explicit sex, violence, and references to abuse that could be rough on sensitive readers.




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About Ceri Grenelle


Ceri Grenelle


I've always had an active imagination. An imagination that usually took form in the way of zoning out in the middle of conversations. I eventually decided it was time to share my daydreaming with the world and began to put my musings on paper. It started with Harry Potter fanfiction and grew from there. I am currently living it up in Northern California after a big move from New York City. And by living it up I mean staying home with my cats, obsessively watching episodes of my favorite TV shows, all of which are extremely geeky, and simultaneously reading the next book on my reading list. I do all this while trying not to pig out on unhealthy snacks. As you can tell, I lead a busy life.

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SCANDAL by Alison Foster




Title: Scandal
Series: Serial Part One
Author: Alison Foster Cover Designer: Jo Raven
Genre: NA Romantic Suspense
Release Date: July 31, 2015



Ella Wade knew working at a website called The Daily Scandal might lead to an interesting summer job after graduating college. She did not know that one big mistake would pull her into the heart of a sleazy world of publicity where truths are worse than lies and a murderer is on the loose.
When Ella gives into temptation and sleeps with her stepsister Madison's ex, her world flips upside down. It doesn't matter that Madison is dead or that Jaxson Cole wasn't, in fact, her boyfriend but a publicist's stunt to link two of the hottest catwalk models romantically in order to feed tabloid curiosity. The damage is done and with deadly consequences.
Even worse, Jax definitely knows things he won't say. Falling for his epic hotness could mean one good screw will screw Ella for a lifetime.











Jaxson opens his door to get out and circles the car to open mine. I welcome the cool, fresh air that enters my pores and nostrils. He takes off his jacket to wrap it around my shoulders. He takes my hand and we walk through the empty park until we get to some trees.
Jaxson pushes me backward until my back is up against a tree trunk. “You’re so beautiful, Ella. So courageous,” he whispers in my ear.

And there, in the midst of the turmoil and uncertainty we have created, Jaxson kisses me again. His strong, muscular body crushes onto mine, literally pushing me into the tree.
His hand cups the back of my neck as he forces his tongue deeper into my mouth, searching to reveal all the secrets of my blood.

I curl my arms around his neck, unable to pretend a second longer. He has created a perfect symphony of sounds and sensations inside my body and he has a right to enjoy the results.

Our mouths stay glued for a while and we kiss and tug at each other’s lips, licking, sucking, devouring. Pure ecstasy courses through my veins, arousing my most sensitive spots.

“We should go back,” I whisper with a groan because I want him so bad and I can’t exactly have him here in the park. I need to get behind a closed door and take his clothes off.
“Don’t you want to feel alive?” he says, his eyes gleaming with possibilities and promises.

I nod, biting on his earlobe gently. “I do. I feel alive, Jax.”
“No,” he says. “You don’t know the thrill of being really alive. I used to own it but now I only get glimpses of it. You make me feel alive more than anything else in a long time.”
My senses go numb and my knees weak. If he keeps talking like that, I’ll collapse in his arms. There’s something hypnotic about his voice and the way his eyes dig into me, scraping away my defenses.

“Let me show you,” he says with a growl.

I reach out and take his hand to hold it in mine. “What do you want to show me?”
He grins and a tickling buzz shoots through my belly. “How to be really alive,” he says, folding the fabric of my thin dress in his free palm to bare one leg to the hipbone.

His fingers graze against my inner thigh, stealing a whimper from my lips. “Not here,” I say with desperate need in my voice.

“Here,” he insists. “Just feel.”












Alison Foster loves reading a good love story almost as much as she loves writing one. She spends her time dreaming up strong heroes and even stronger heroines and she enjoys finding unexpected strengths within her characters when they are in the most unexpected places.
She believes that passion makes the world go round and that a sexy grin is as sweet as candy. She loves interacting with readers, so feel free to drop her a line.
















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