Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Black Collar Empire by A.N. Latro

Today we are revealing the cover for BLACK COLLAR EMPIRE by A.N. Latro, but there's also a bonus! We are also revealing 2 novellas in the series -- BLACK COLLAR BEGINNINGS: CUBA and BLACK COLLAR BEGINNINGS: NEW YORK.

All of these books will be released on Thursday, August 21st.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00051]



After two years away, Seth Morgan has returned to New York, desperate to honor his father's dying wish for a unified family. But the heir’s welcome is sadly lacking: his family’s criminal empire is divided, the woman he loves hates him, and his brother Caleb has become a cold stranger.

When a brotherly spat becomes a vicious misunderstanding that ends with Caleb dead, Seth is left reeling, and unsure who to trust. Emma Morgan grew up while her closest cousin was away. She’s been sheltered her entire life from the realities of their family—something Seth has every intention of changing upon his return. But not everyone in the syndicate is happy to have Seth home, and there are secrets surrounding Caleb’s murder. The deeper Seth and Emma dig, the clearer it becomes that not everyone shares their dream for the Morgan Syndicate, and not everyone wants the heir to ascend.
Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00051]
BLACK COLLAR BEGINNINGS: CUBA GOODREADS LINK:   BLACK COLLAR BEGINNINGS: CUBA BLURB Alone in Cuba, Seth Morgan isn’t mafia royalty—he’s a thug with a gun, and everything to prove. When the shadowy kingpin behind the Cuban syndicate finally takes notice, nothing in Seth’s world will ever be the same. Before the Empire, there was exile. A novella, set just before Black Collar Empire.
Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00051]
BLACK COLLAR BEGINNINGS: NEW YORK GOODREADS LINK:   BLACK COLLAR BEGINNINGS: NEW YORK BLURB: Caleb Morgan is the black sheep of the family. Two years of his brother’s absence has left him cold and alone—except for Emma, the youngest Morgan. Because with Seth gone, there is no one else to teach—or protect—their innocent cousin. But teaching isn’t always pretty—not in family who peddles in crime.
Author Bio: AN Latro loves good wine and the ocean, and prefers to write with both. She has a passion for bad boys in books, and stories that make you feel. She can most often be found along the Florida coast.

Scorned and Jealouly by S.L. Scott

From the Inside Out
Chapter 1
March 12th
I hate Ethan Porter. I hate him with all my soul and every fiber, muscle, and nerve of my being. He broke me and my heart simulataneously, destroying everything I knew my life to be. Over the course of the next year, my friend, Brandon, had to put me back together. Piece by piece, he glued me back into a semblance of what I used to be before I knew Ethan, or so I thought. But I didn’t realize he was also bonding himself to me in the process, until one night when my friend became my lover. Brandon never should have played that role, especially since I was still too broken to be good for anyone else. So we went back to being friends, my lover returning to the role of friend again because I needed a friend more than a lover.

            Tonight, as I watch Ethan across the restaurant, I feel a rush of emotions and memories, the last conversation we had starting to pull me under.
“I hate you. I hate you for making me take this job. I hate you for making me buy that car. I hate this apartment and the furniture. I hate everything that you made me do because you wanted it that way.” Lately, you’ve replaced the word love with hate. You’ve used it generously in the last week and more than a few times tonight, five in the last minute.
He doesn’t know I’m in the same restaurant. Fortunately he hasn’t seen me. When my hand twitches, I realize I’ve pulled my phone from my purse, subconsciously to help diffuse the panic attack before it hits. I refuse to let it hit or call Brandon every time I start freaking out over Ethan.
This isn’t a restaurant I frequent and being in the same place as him after three years is completely coincidental. I’ve lost my appetite, so I push the plate of food in front of me away.
I glance over at him and her—red hair, red nails, red lips, red shoes, too tight red dress, red clutch perched on the table next to her glass of red wine. I roll my eyes, everything about her is so clichĂ© and boring, and predictable for a man to be attracted to her.
Her eyes meet mine and I look away. In that glimpse, I saw that her eyes are light colored, maybe blue, probably blue.
Mine are Hazel—green on a good day, brown on most.
The one I want to see deep down has his back to me. He hasn’t seen me in three years and it makes me wonder if he ever did even when we were together. I don’t know and I hate to think about that time… the times when it was bad.
“I hate my life. I hate this life… with you,” you yell at me.
I. Hate. You. That’s all I gather from you. I ask, “Have you met someone else?”
“God damn it, Juliette! This is about you and me, not anyone else.”
You turn your back when you shout, which makes me question your truthfulness since I can’t see your eyes. Do I speak again or let you wrap this up on your own? I’m at a loss here. My phone rings, making both of us look over at it. You’re not happy about the intrusion, though I’m relieved by the interruption.
“I have to get that.” I walk across the living room and pick it up.
But before I can answer, you say, “Get it. I’m done here anyway.” My eyes lift from the gallery’s number flashing on the screen back to yours that are looking down. “We’re done.” You leave on that note, walking into the bedroom and leaving me to take my call.
“This is Juliette.” I walk out of the apartment to give you time. You seem to need it right now. It doesn’t occur to me until I’m outside that spring has arrived and the white snapdragons are in bloom in the park across the street.
After many reassurances of my return to work, I hang up the phone and realize that you won’t be there when I get home. Is it even home without you there? You meant what you said and I’m at a loss... again. I’m losing you. I’m losing my heart. I’m losing my other half.
I’ve forgotten now if it was ever good? If I dig deep, really deep past the pain that was inflicted and the scars that remain, it was. It was blissful and perfect. I felt loved. I felt pretty. I felt whole. We were more good than bad, but now only the bad remains.
Glancing back to the table, I see her eyes on me again. Quickly, I dig out a fifty and toss it on the table. That will easily cover my bill, even at an over-priced, too-trendy-to-be-considered-trendy-any-longer establishment on the Upper West Side.
My eyes meet hers one more time. I hope mine don’t give anything away. Things like: how I know what you look like when you fall apart underneath me, how you love for me to touch you there, but not go further, deeper, and how your eyes match the blue skies right before a storm rolls in. I know all these things because I’ve experienced them with you. I know you, the real you.
Does she?
The last look I allow myself is of you, just you, blocking her from my focus. Your hair is styled. You always had great hair and still do even despite the hateful curses I had over the years for you to go bald. The light starch to your shirt proves you haven’t changed. You insisted the perfection, but still wanted to be comfortable in your clothes. The large face of your watch gleams under the track lighting above. You were always very confident… or cocky. I’m not sure which anymore. My memories on that subject have somewhat faded, overtaken by more harmful ones.
As I walk through the intimate tables of the dining area, I look over at her one last time. It’s easier to look at her than you. You hold too much pain, more than I can endure tonight. She nods to you while smiling as if to tell you silently that I’m watching, as if to tell you, you have an admirer. I’m not an admirer. I’m an adversary—the enemy—the person you hate the most in the world if I recall your words correctly.
I push the door open and the cool night air hits me. Spring is on the verge of springing but hasn’t sprung. I wrap my arms around myself and head south.
Hearing your voice causes my insides to freeze, but my feet keep moving. I don’t respond. Juliette. Do I even know that Juliette anymore?
“Juliette? Is that you?”
I hear your footsteps.  They quicken but I refuse to respond to careless niceties you probably feel obligated to dole out.
Why do you try?
Why do you care?
What do you want?
“Hey!” You shout from a distance, planting yourself in a spot on the sidewalk, not chasing. I’m walking in four-inch Prada. You could catch me if you wanted. You don’t want to though. That much is obvious.
Rounding another corner, I find safety in the shadows of the building. Walking. Walking. Walking. No Ethan and no more Juliette. Just walking until I reach my comfort zone.
My hand is shaking although I’m standing in front of my building.
One ring.
Two rings.
“Hey, Jules, it’s kind of late for a social call.”
My heart calms and I smile. “You love hearing from me and you know it.”
He laughs. “Yes, I do. Anytime, day or night for you.”
“Can I come over?”
I hear shuffling. He’s looking at the time. I know he is. It’s only ten-fifteen.
“Of course. Is everything alright?”
“Buzz me in.”
“You’re already here?”
“Where’s your key?”
“Buzz me in.”
The lock releases and the door is opened without further question. He knows when not to push. He’s great like that.
I climb the two flights, running out of breath after the rushed walk home. When I walk in, I set my purse on the table by the window. I like the view from his apartment because it’s the opposite of mine. It gives me a new perspective. He leans against the kitchen archway. It’s a comforting design feature in the otherwise modern apartment. “The spare room has fresh sheets or you can always crash in my room,” he says like he’s joking, but I know he’s not.
The offer makes me smile, but just slightly. No longer lovers. “We’re better as friends,” I gently remind.
He crosses his arms over his chest, and says, “No harm in trying.”
Always harm. There’s always harm. It’s never easy. It’s never gotten easier.
He’s watching me with his intense dark eyes. His eyes are blue, but so different from yours. His are the deepest oceans and yours the sky above.
The weight of his gaze lays heavy on me, scanning my back as I look out over the street, spotting a pocket view of the park. I turn. “I’m tired.”
“You know where everything is.”
“I do.”
I breeze past him as if I own the place. In a way I do. It’s a second home to me. I have some of my things, my belongings stashed around, in the bathroom, in the bedroom—the guest bedroom. My vitamins reside in the kitchen. Just things, inconsequential things.
I stop in the doorway to the guest room before I disappear for the night. “Thank you.”
“You’re always welcome here, but next time, use your key.”
That makes me smile, a real one, genuine in its roots. “Goodnight, Brandon.”
“Sweet dreams, Jules.”
My dreams aren’t sweet. I’m restless, even here at his place. I used to find solace, but your intrusion into my life tonight has caused an imbalance in my world. Memories of the night you left me flood my dreams…
Reality strikes hard at the exhibit. I lose my mind and my new client when I breakdown in the back room behind what I thought were closed doors and cry. My tears ruined his masterpiece—a piece the artist just painted live in front of the potential customers. I had just sold the painting and pulled it from the collection at the request of a buyer.
Reflexively, I rub the canvas with my hand in an attempt to wipe the tears away but the paint smears under my touch.
I’m called unprofessional and careless, and in his fit of rage, the artist refuses to work with me again. My tears costing him a five thousand dollar reward for his talents and time. The loss of the love of my life cost me more. He didn’t seem to care about that. Artists can be testy that way. He broke the frame and trashed the painting when the buyer pulled out of the deal, not wanting my common problems splattered on his masterpiece.
When I return home late that night, the car is not parked out front or anywhere on our street and the apartment is bare. But you hated that car and you hated the furniture. You hated your life and mine, you hated yourself and me. You said so and yet, you still took it away. You took it all with you except for me.
Nothing remains in the place we called home except a twenty-five dollar coffee maker and my clothes dumped on the floor because you decided to take the dresser.
I kick off my shoes and go to make myself a cup of coffee. You took the beans that I had freshly ground this morning. I now have a coffeepot with no coffee to go in it. I drop to the floor in the kitchen and fall apart, completely apart, my heart shattering into a million pieces. The gallery breakdown was just the predecessor of what was to come and this apparently is what was to come. This was the remains of my life, the end as I knew it. In the course of a ten hour absence, my life was packed and moved to another location, an unknown location.
Was this planned?
For how long?
Movers on the same day?
A storage unit or another apartment waiting for you?
It seems too organized, premeditated.
I held the black coffee maker in my arms and cradled myself around it, needing to hold onto something tangible and this was all that was left. This was all I had to show for a life that was built on love but died in misunderstandings and lies.

We're so excited to reveal the cover for WITHIN THESE WALLS by J.L. Berg, which releases August 18th!

  WTW iBooks


Within these walls, he became my solace, my sanctuary and my strength. I am not strong. I am just a survivor of circumstance. Isn’t that what we all do? Survive? Each of us has our own set of circumstances to muddle through. Mine are just more…complicated. Born with a severe heart defect, I’ve seen the inside of a hospital room more than my own bedroom. I was drowning, a prisoner to the illness that owned me, until he appeared. He thinks he’s blocked out the world with his tattoos and hard exterior, but I see the real Jude, the one he so desperately wants to forget. But is he the answer to my prayers or will he break my already damaged heart forever? My name is Lailah Buchanan, and this is our story of hope, redemption and sacrificing it all for the one you love.  


Within these walls he became my solace, my sanctuary and my strength.
Like a white knight, he saved me from a life of gray and showed me a world full of color.
Within these walls, I gave myself to a man who said he would always fight for me.
Love me until the end of time.
But sometimes, not even love is enough when life gets in the way.
When your heart is already damaged beyond repair, what is there left to break?
Within these walls, I gave my less than perfect heart to the man I loved.
And then…he walked away.
Add it to Goodreads here! Sign up for J.L. Berg's brand-new newsletter here!  

About J.L. Berg

J.L. Berg is the USA Today bestselling author of the Ready Series. She is a California native living in the beautiful state of historic Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, they have two beautiful girls that drive them batty on a daily basis. When she's not writing, you will find her with her nose stuck in a romance novel, in a yoga studio or devouring anything chocolate. J.L. Berg is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC.

Cover Reveal: 42 Hours by Bethany Lopez

We are thrilled to share the gorgeous cover for 42 Hours from Bethany Lopez. We also  have an excerpt, so be sure to check it out!

Title: 42 Hours (Time for Love #3)
Author: Bethany Lopez
Age Group: NA
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: 8/19/14

Cover Design - B Designs
Photographer - K Keeton Designs
Models - Nathan Weller and Kayla Ann
 Add 42 Hours on GoodReads
Eight years ago, Scott and Gaby shared one very special night. Not wanting to ruin their friendship, they didn't take things further...but neither of them has forgotten.

When Scott’s friends stage an intervention to make him realize that his fiancĂ©, Victoria, is all wrong for him, he takes time to evaluate his life. He’s earned a big promotion and just bought his dream car, but those things are just superficial. The one time he was truly happy, was with Gaby.

Gaby is in a good place in her life. She loves her job, has the best friends and family a girl could ask for, and is dating a sweet and sexy guy, but she’s never stopped thinking about that night with Scott.

Eager to find happiness again, Scott makes a plan to win Gaby’s heart during a weekend getaway, but she doesn’t want to be his rebound girl. Will 42 hours be enough to convince Gaby that it's finally their time for love?



  “The other night, at the bar, right before the band started…. You came back from the bathroom, looking all flushed and embarrassed. Then you downed TJ’s beer… I’d meant to ask you about it then, but the music came on, and we all got distracted. Did something happen?”
  I flushed at his question, as I remembered the scene that had gotten me all flustered.
  “Oh… God… I just,” I felt like such a child, I could barely even talk about it, and it wasn’t as if I’d walked in on them having sex or anything. “I ran into Brock’s brother Brendan … The lead singer. Anyway, he and some girl were going at it pretty hot and heavy in the hallway.”
   “Oh,” Scott looked at me suddenly, then cleared his throat and looked back out the windshield. “So you were embarrassed?”
   I let out a nervous laugh and admitted, “Yeah, because I was taken by surprised, and I kind of, um, stood there and watched for a minute. Then, Brendan caught me, and said hi, like it was no big deal. I just felt like a prude.”

   “Hmmm,” Scott began, as if unsure what to say next. “Have you never been in that situation before?”
  I averted my eyes, then responded softly, “What? Practically having sex in a bar? No.”
  “No,” Scott said, his voice rough. “Where you’ve been so in the moment, that you couldn’t control yourself, and didn’t care if you got caught or not.”
  I squirmed in my seat, his words affecting me more than they probably should. My body felt warm, so I turned up the AC a bit and pointed the vent in my direction.
  “No,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.
  When Scott didn’t respond, I started to worry that he thought I was referring to the night that he and I’d slept together, so I blurted, “Oh… I wasn’t trying to say that you and I didn’t have passion…”
  I felt the blush roll over my face like a heat wave.
  “I mean, it was our first time… And it was lovely…” Shit, I was digging in deeper. “What I meant was that I’ve never had someone take me up against the wall in the club like that.”
  Oh. My. God. Had I just said that. I wanted to melt into the floorboards.
  I brought my hands to my face, hiding my mortification.
Here's a fun photo of Bethany with cover model Nathan Weller!
The Time For Love Series


8 Weeks
21 Days
About Bethany Lopez

Award-Winning Author Bethany Lopez began self-publishing in June 2011. Since then she has published various YA and NA books. She is a lover of romance, family, and friends, and enjoys incorporating those things in what she writes. When she isn't reading or writing, she loves spending time with her husband and children, traveling whenever possible.

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Hot Cover Reveal: All I Need Volume One by Scarlett Metal

Releasing August 11, 2014


Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll. 

It might sound cliche, but this is my life and I make no apologies for it. I party hard and f*ck my women even harder, sometimes more than one at a time. Music is my life and nothing else matters.

Then I met her. She turned my world upside down with one smile...

Would I be able to give up the life I loved for her?

About the Author 
Scarlett lives in the Midwest with her family. When she's not busy writing steamy stories, she can be found with her nose in a book, camping, or geocaching with her family. She loves Diet Coke, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, and 80's hair bands. You can find more at:

Hosted By:

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Fast Glamour by Maggie Marr

Glamour Series, #3

New Adult Contemporary

Released July 23, 2014

A broken heart forever bears scars. . . 

Sterling Legend grew up a prince in the City of Angels. His life was perfect and he wanted for nothing until his entire world shattered. He lost everything dear to him the year he turned seventeen. Now he’s grown into a formidable man on the cusp of outrageous success. His life revolves around his work and all the beautiful baubles that Los Angeles can offer to a wealthy young man. He’s buried his feelings and his heart so that he will never be hurt again. 

A lost love that she could never forget . . .

Rhiannon Bliss was forced to leave L.A. to extinguish the fire of a first love, but an ocean, a different country, and seven years couldn’t quell her desires. Now she’s returned to the City of Angels to care for her mother. Can she fight her feelings for the man that once broke her heart? Does she even want to? 

Finding your way back to love can be an impossible path. . . 

Sterling Legend is at the top of the entertainment industry. His fast rise to success due to his talent and to his last name. But Sterling wants to find success on his own. He is on the path to producing his first film, without his famous father as the star, when the ex-love of his life re-enters his world. Rhiannon Bliss left seven years before without a word. Sterling has no need to forgive, but his desire for Rhiannon is overwhelming. Can two broken hearts use the heat of their attraction to find their way back to love? 

About the Author

Maggie Marr grew up in the Midwest and made the move to Los Angeles to work in the movie business.  She was a motion picture literary agent for ICM before becoming a full time writer.  She's written for film and TV and ghostwritten for celebrities.  She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and children.

Other titles in the series that can be read as standalone. 

 photo AToMR-PRomotions-smaller-web_zps38ffe9e0.jpg

Don't Let Go by M.J. Summers

Release Day Blitz  22nd July - USA & Canada  29th July - UK, Australia & New Zealand

Book: Don’t Let Go (A Full Heart Novella)
Author: M J Summers
Genre: Contemporary Romance
M.J. has been working on a little something sweet and savory for you while you wait for Breaking Love to be released…
Readers fell in love with Ben and Alicia’s picture-perfect marriage in BREAK IN TWO, but, for these two, the road to a happy ending hasn’t always been smooth.
Alicia Williams has been in love with Ben Mitchell since he picked her up out of the mud in elementary school. But baseball-obsessed Ben has dreams to make it to the majors and see the world, and those dreams don’t include the girl next door, no matter how perfect she is. Ben is forced to choose and he leaves Alicia behind – but dreams can change and regrets can grow. When Ben returns back home to the ranch in Colorado Springs, trying to re-discover the man he was meant to be, will the girl he can't get off his mind still be waiting?
Join Ben and Alicia in DON'T LET GO as they fall in love and discover that sometimes life's greatest adventure is the one you find at home.

MJ Summers currently resides in Canada, not far from the Rocky Mountains, with her husband, three young children and their goofy dog. When she's not writing erotic novels she loves running, reading, going for long dinners with her girlfriends, swimming, and camping with her family.

Don't Let Go Playlist
“Ahead by a Century” by The Tragically Hip
“Over You” by Miranda Lambert
“The Lightning Strike” by Snow Patrol
“Brave” by Sara Bareilles
“Like a Star” by Corinne Bailey Rae
“Weather to Fly” by Elbow

A minute later, Alicia emerged wearing just her panties and a naughty expression, her arms folded across her breasts. Ben gave a low whistle, reaching under the covers to quickly pull off his underwear. “I love Saturdays.”
            Alicia hopped onto the bed, straddling him over the covers, pressing her hands to the pillow on either side of Ben’s head. Ben’s eyes were glued to her naked chest, his hands quickly following them. “Oh, and here I thought you were about to say you loved me,” Alicia said, lowering her face to his neck.
            Ben closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the incredible sensation of what she was doing to his ear. “Oh, don’t worry, honey. I’ll always love you almost as much as I love Saturdays.”
            Alicia laughed at his joke before grinding her hips into his lap. “You sure about the order of things there, Ben? Can Saturday do this to you?”
            Lifting his muscular torso, Ben met Alicia’s lips with his, slowly running his tongue over her bottom lip before crushing his mouth to hers. Their tongues found each other, dancing their familiar, perfect tango. After so many years together, their need for each other had only grown more profound, their ability to give and receive pleasure only more intense.
            Ben moved his hands down to her hips and flipped her over onto her back, tossing the sheet off himself and out of his way. He was rock hard and ready to give her what he knew she wanted most, but first he wanted a taste of what was to come. Sliding his hands down to her panties, he tugged them off in one swift movement, leaving her bared to him in the morning sunlight. The streams of light hit her body and face, giving her a look that was almost angelic.
            Ben gently parted her legs with his strong hands, opening her to his waiting mouth. His tongue stretched out and reached her first with one long, deliciously slow stroke along her core. Alicia’s breath caught as she let her hands glide over her breasts and tummy. Ben’s lips were next to touch her, sucking gently on her already wet sex. His tongue rolled over her with the exact amount of force that made her wild with pleasure, his thumbs sliding deeper inside, rubbing as his mouth worked its magic. Alicia looked down to the place where his mouth met her body, taking in the intoxicating intimacy of allowing herself to be open to him like this in the sunlight. There was nowhere to hide, but with him there was no need. His love for her was steady and strong and would last a lifetime. I Tunes

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