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Sunday, December 4, 2016

Snippet Sunday and Weekend Writing Warriors


Welcome to Snippet Sunday and Weekend Writing Warriors, your chance to sample the work of a talented group of authors. When you finish here you can find more snippets at

http://www.wewriwa.com
https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/

Last week we saw that after the wrestling match started, Cade hit Rocky with a chair, and Rocky didn't get up. We also saw that in the ambulance he asked if it was safe to sit up, and at that point Aimee slapped him. The driver told Aimee there was no call to hit him because it wasn't his fault. Aimee doesn't think Dave (the driver) and Rocky understand the seriousness of their position. (They ticked off drug dealers and have to fake Rocky's death so he can enter the witness protection program.) At the hospital Aimee is told that Rocky is dead which of course he isn't. I'm skipping a few paragraphs and moving to Rocky's fake funeral where Aimee confronts two important characters, Cade McCoy and Gabe Porter. We met Cade who supposedly killed Rocky in the first scene. Today we see a description of Cade, and with just ten sentences that's about all I can fit in.

Excerpt:
How strange; I never noticed that his eyes are green. Well, maybe not green, maybe gray. Yeah, they’re greenish-gray. Pretty. In fact, he’s a nice looking man. Good shoulders and a classically handsome face, about as tall as Rocky. About six-one or six-two maybe, but Rocky has dark hair and heavier shoulders. His features are more rugged than Cade’s too. 


Cade had even dressed in a suit for the funeral. Its expensive-looking, pale gray material matched his eyes and gave him an air of command she liked much better than greasy hair, a hat, and a leather vest.

Blurb: 
Aimee Sherwood never dreamed that following her fiancé into the witness protection pro-gram would land her in a haunted house in a town that’s downright creepy. She’d have laughed if she had been told the guy who lives down the road might be her soul mate, not the man whose ring she’s wearing. Life in West Virginia is nothing like life in Los Angeles, but between bean ball battles with Marilyn Monroe, remodeling a crumbling farmhouse, and starting a new online business, life in the country is anything but boring.

Buy link: http://amzn.to/23yoW2d

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Saturday Sample: Fortuna



Welcome to Saturday Sample. Today I'll still be posting from Fortuna my romantic comedy. So far we know that Rocky has faked his death to enter the witness protection program. This scene is at Rocky's fake funeral. Aimee just left the restroom and meets a scary man.

Blurb:
Aimee Sherwood never dreamed that following her fiancé into the witness protection pro-gram would land her in a haunted house in a town that’s downright creepy. She’d have laughed if she had been told the guy who lives down the road might be her soul mate, not the man whose ring she’s wearing. Life in West Virginia is nothing like life in Los Angeles, but between bean ball battles with Marilyn Monroe, remodeling a crumbling farmhouse, and starting a new online business, life in the country is anything but boring. 

Excerpt:

Someone called her name. Oh. My. Goodness! It’s Gabe Porter. Gabe was the older brother of Brady Porter, the guy whose drug ring had landed her and Rocky in this predicament. The FBI thought Gabe was involved as well, but so far they couldn’t prove it.

I bet he’s the ringleader. Nobody could look as much like a reptile as he does and still be an innocent man. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. Gabe had a hooked nose and strange, yellowish skin. His eyes were flat and cold. If eyes were indeed a window to the soul, Gabe didn’t have one. Okay, that was a cliché, but in Gabe’s case it was spot on. 

Buy link: http://amznlto/23yoW2d

Friday, December 2, 2016

Fashionista Friday

Beauty Takes The City


Dress
dresslink.com


Winter
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Casadei bootie boots
casadei.com


Jo Liza silver clutch
onekingslane.com


Face powder
dresslink.com


Givenchy fragrance
saksfifthavenue.com


Matte
dresslink.com

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Forbidden Kisses

Title: Forbidden Kisses
Author: Sha Renée
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 2, 2016 Available on Kindle Unlimited

Layla is an enlisted member of the US Navy. On a weekend trip, she meets and grows close to the perfect guy. Her world is turned upside down when she later discovers he’s a Navy lieutenant. Military regulations prohibit personal relationships between officers and enlisted personnel. Is Layla strong enough to walk away from the only man to hold her heart?
She’s everything Lieutenant Ethan Parker wants, and during his darkest moment, Layla was everything he needed. Learning that a relationship with her is forbidden catapults the decorated officer into a place darker than the one she helped pull him from. Ethan is forced to choose between the profession that means everything to him and the woman he’s waited his entire life for.
Can military regulations separate lovers destined to be together?
 

“This was my first read of Sha Renee and I really enjoyed it! Some steamy sexy time, and some drama this made for quick read, and I give it 4.5 stars.” - MJ’s Book Blog and Reviews

“What a sweet short read this is. Well written, fast paced, easy to follow, and quite enjoyable. I was invested in the characters and their dilemmas.” - Lovetiggis I Love My Authors
EXCERPT 1
I stood inside the small shack near the beginning of the flight line. Different colored vests hung on the walls along with over-the-head earmuffs, goggles and other safety equipment. Neat stacks of papers with Layla’s handwriting lay on the desk next to service manuals and a few extra pairs of ear protection.
I peered through the window onto the flight line and watched Layla with her students. The Airmen who trained here would eventually work as aircraft mechanics, electricians and a number of other positions in support of the Navy’s air fleet. Donned in earmuffs, protective eyewear and different colored vests they were going over aircraft launch procedures.
The brown vest Layla wore over her blue camouflage uniform designated her as the line member directing the plane - the one person the pilot focused on. One crew member manned the back of the aircraft. Two others stood on either side of the plane, next to the huge wheels. They waited for the signal to pull chocks. Once they received it, they’d retrieve the safety blocks surrounding the wheels so the plane could move forward. 
Layla wore confidence and authority as if they were the latest fashion trends. She gave the signal pull chocks – both hands extended in front of her at waist level, facing upward; when she moved her hands outward, both linemen unsecured the wheels by removing the chocks. Every step was well coordinated and performed according to standard procedure. One of the reasons I loved the military – uniform procedures for every task. Everything ran smooth and efficiently, down to the last detail. It’s what made us the best, and ultimately, what saved lives. 
Layla gave the all clear signal followed by the command to move forward and then slowly stepped backward. The plane advanced slowly according to Layla’s hand signals. 
It only took a few seconds for me to realize something was seriously wrong. Fuck. The lineman on the starboard wing hadn’t moved away from the plane. Didn’t he know he needed to haul ass after he pulled chocks? My heart began to pump wildly as the realization of impending disaster set in. When the plane turned, the discharge of exhaust and fire would blast the lineman, potentially killing him. 
Did Layla even see him? Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she do anything to get him out of the way? I hastened toward the door, then back to the window. Even if I called out, no one would hear me over the roar of the engines. Shit. I needed to get out there. I had to save that kid’s life, save my team. Adrenaline shot through every muscle as I grabbed the earmuffs from the desk and raced outside. A slow trot increased to a sprint when I realized the plane was about to make it’s turn. Holy fuck. The kid stood there as if he was in a daze. What the fuck was he doing? I ran faster. My heart pounded fiercely. The plane began to rotate as Layla commanded. Shit. Shit. Shit. This kid was going to die on my watch.
EXCERPT 2
Ethan thanked the host and picked up the microphone. and a hush settled over the room and all eyes were on Ethan. I expected him to choose a song and start singing, but instead, he addressed the audience. 
“I hope you’re all having a good time.” 
The crowd applauded. 
“You’re in for a treat this evening.” He looked directly at me and continued, “Visual as well as musical – as my girl, Layla takes the stage.” The crowd cheered instantly as Ethan extended a hand in my direction
“Come on up, Baby.”
In two gulps, I downed the remaining wine in my glass and joined Ethan on the stage. Although I loved music and enjoyed singing, I was nervous as hell.
“Ladies first.” Ethan whispered the words as he held the microphone out to me.  
“You’ll pay for this.” 
He flashed the sexiest, dimpled grin and at that exact moment, I knew I was in love with him.
“Get off my stage.”
“As you command, Beautiful.”
Within moments, my foot was tapping to the opening drum beat. My head bopped to the bass of the Pretenders’ Mystery Achievement. Hair swung about as I shimmied seductively and sang “On my mind, on my mind, on my mind.” My body came alive as the music surged through me. I rocked and wiggled and sang my heart out. Since I’d sung along with this song on numerous occasions, I knew every word and every stroke of the guitar. At the instrumental parts the audience participated by clapping along. By the end of the song, I was jumping up and down, making eye contact and connecting with the audience as I approached their tables and sang directly to them. At the final beat and the last fierce swing of my head, the audience roared. 
“Holy, fuck! That was orgasmic.” Laughter accompanied the applause. 
Ethan clapped the loudest and gave me a quick kiss. “I could get you a cigarette if you like.” 
I gave him a playful push as I handed him the microphone. 
From our table I watched Ethan’s performance. His eyes locked on mine as his song started. When he sang the first line in acapella, my heart laughed, danced and cried. The music started and the audience cheered. UB-40’s version of Can’t Help Falling In Love featured a slow reggae beat that everyone wanted to move to. I watched transfixed as he sang to me. Me. He was singing to me. Was he saying he was in love with me?
Ethan was beautiful and so darned sexy as his hips rocked to the reggae beat. He sang and danced like he could feel the music. As if it flowed through his body the way it did mine. His eyes, his movements and his words seduced me. As if he was making love to me, from right there on the stage. When he stepped off the stage and came close to our table, I swooned like a groupie. With a hand extended, he sang ‘take my hand’, and guided me to my feet. Like a professional performer, Ethan continued bellowing the smooth notes, rocking his hips while he held my hand. With a gentle hold, he pulled me close, guiding me to move to the sultry beat with him. When the music ended, everyone applauded.
“That was amazing!” 
“Ready to go?” He didn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he pulled out his wallet, left a few bills on our table, and ushered me out the door.
“That was so much fun! Why are we leaving already?”
“I want to hear you sing... in private.”
EXCERPT 3
“What do you think?” Layla strutted and twirled like a runway model.
“Wow! You look amazing.” 
The slinky black dress was simple but elegant. Cut just low enough in the front to allow her breasts to tease, and low enough in the back to draw my eyes to her perfect curves. 
“I love it. This is the one.”
“I haven’t even tried the other one yet.”
“You can try it if you like, but this one gets my vote.” As Layla examined her reflection in the mirror, I placed my hand on her ass, sliding it up and down over the velvet fabric “If you do get this one, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
Her luscious lips curved into a flirtatious smile. “Then maybe I will get it.” Her gaze flicked to the price tag. “Or maybe not. Ethan this dress is ridiculously expensive.”
“And you’re worth every penny.” 
“I should at least give you half. Or we can go to a less expensive store.”
It was time to put my foot down. “Layla! I’m buying the dress. Now go try on the other one if you want to, but we’re leaving here with one of them.”
“Fine.”
“And when you’re done, pick out some shoes.”
She darted back to the fitting room.
“And lingerie,” I called after her. “Do you know they have panties that you can actually eat?”
While I waited for Layla to try on the second dress the sales clerk who’d helped us earlier showed me a necklace with matching earrings. “These will go nicely with whichever dress she chooses.” 
I looked over my shoulder to see if Layla was ready to model the next dress. She hadn’t come out yet, but what I did see caused a knot to form in the pit of my stomach. What. The. Fuck.  
My heart pounded, forcing panic through my veins with every beat. I stood paralyzed with fear as Commander Murphy strode right toward me. Where had he come from? What was he doing here? In a mall located several miles away from the base, I hadn’t considered the possibility of running into someone who knew us. What a stupid mistake. 
“Parker! How’s it going?” 
I shook his outstretched hand and prayed he didn’t notice the sweat on my palm.
“I’m good, Sir, how are you?”
“Not bad. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“Oh. I um... I’m picking up a gift. For a friend.” That not a lie... except Layla was much more than a friend. I tried to appear relaxed in spite of the alarming thoughts flooding my mind. Reduced pay, reduced rank, Captain’s Mast, dishonorable discharge, confinement. 
I stole a glance toward the fitting room, hoping Layla would stay put for a while. Please let the zipper be stuck.
A squeaky door hinge set me on edge. Holy shit. This was it. The end of my career.
Sha Renée is a native New Yorker who left home at the age of 17 to join the US Navy. She now lives in New Jersey where she creates stories on the pages where duty, honor and passion unite.

When she's not writing, Sha enjoys listening to music while drinking either a cup of hot coffee or a glass of chilled wine. Some of life’s simple activities—such as walking through freshly fallen autumn leaves and watching bulldozers, diggers and other construction vehicles—entertain her. Sha also has a passion for photography, meeting people, and connecting with her readers.
Forbidden Kisses is Sha Renée’s first Military Romance. The story of Layla and Ethan continues in Off Base.


a Rafflecopter giveaway In the event the winner/winners are outside of the Untied States the prizes will be switched into an Amazon Gift Card
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Thursday, December 1, 2016

The Misses Trilogy

The Misses Trilogy by Marie Garner
Miss Congeniality - FREE for a limited time!
Miss Man-Eater - ON SALE $0.99
Miss Hollywood - PreOrder $0.99
 
Lance Holder lives life the way he wants and makes no apologies, regardless of what anyone thinks. All everyone sees is the tattooed, motorcycle riding, reckless movie star, preventing anyone from looking beneath the surface. And that’s just the way Lance likes it.
Brea Richards is America’s sweetheart. She’s spent years honing her current reputation as one of the leading stars of a prime time television show. It’s a long way from her humble beginnings, but no one knows she’s lived worse than most people see in a lifetime.
Thrown together when Lance joins the cast of Brea’s show, everyone is watching to see if America’s bad boy will influence the sweetheart. But Lance seems to be one of the only ones to see beyond her current façade of pretending to be something she’s not. When a blast from the past sends Brea right back to the place she swore she’d never go again, maybe America’s bad boy is just what America’s sweetheart needs…
That wasn’t so bad,” Lance said as they walked in the green room following the conference. The others had scattered soon after, but Brea had followed him to express her displeasure. She simply stared at him; he had clearly been hit in the head if he thought that press conference went well.
Brea tried for calm but failed miserably. Her temper didn’t flair up often, but when it did she tended to lay waste to everything in her path. “Easy for you to say grabby hands,” she hissed. “And what the hell were you doing insinuating that we had a relationship?!”
“First of all, I wouldn’t have had to say shit if you didn’t try to eye fuck me on the way in.”
Brea narrowed her eyes, gritting her teeth so she didn’t rise to his bait. “I didn’t try to eye fuck you. And who says shit like that?”
He leaned in so close she could feel his breath, causing a tingle in the base of her spine. “The guy who you were about ten seconds away from pulling into a back room.” She pulled away, needing the distance, before glaring at him.
“And don’t touch me again without permission.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, looking her up and down like he knew exactly where he wanted to touch her. “What pisses you off more? The fact that I had to squeeze your leg to prevent you from spouting off at the mouth…or that you wanted me to squeeze much more than your leg?”
Her nostrils flared, from desire or anger she didn’t know. They say there’s a thin line between love and hate, and she never felt it more acutely than she did today, as though ever nerve ending was on fire. She didn’t know why this man did it for her, but he did.
“You are obnoxious as hell.” It was pretty weak as far as comebacks went, but she couldn’t think straight. All she wanted to do was feel, but she wasn’t about to give in to shit when it came to Lance.
“That all you got? You really are…nice.” When he said it like that it made it seem like she had the plague.
“One of us has to have manners,” she replied in a way that would have made Emily Post proud.
“Yeah, and one of us had to preserve your reputation in the media. Will they speculate about us? Yes. Did I play it off so they think there’s nothing serious about us? Yes. Just wait and see what they write about you, I guarantee you will be the victim of my evil clutches.” She shifted from side to side, knowing he was probably right. They would be much more forgiving of her, but if she said anything they would have circled like vultures around new prey. She should probably thank him for his foresight, but he had been such an ass about everything.
“And as far as the other stuff- the shit between you and me? You look at me like that again, and I guarantee we’ll be doing a lot more than playing grabby hands under the table.” And just like that, he walked away, slamming the door on the way out. She plopped down on the couch, trying to pretend like she didn’t want to call him back for more.
Raquel Adams is in desperate need of a media makeover. Her already floundering reputation is made worse by her recent antics, and she doesn’t seem to care. Raquel lives life on her own terms and doesn’t answer to anyone, least of all Clayton Cox, the guy charged with making her a media darling. His take charge attitude is a problem for strong-willed Raquel, but she can’t deny the attraction she feels toward him.

Clayton Cox is the boss, and damn good at his job. He’s hired to improve your reputation and does so by swooping in, saving the day, and moving onto the next one. But he can’t move one from his newest client. Raquel is maddening, and gorgeous enough to make him forget his rule of never getting involved with a client.
Raquel wants Clayton, and nothing is going to stand in her way, not even Clayton himself. He doesn’t know what hit him, and soon finds himself juggling between having to improve her reputation and feign off her advances. But Clayton’s determined to show Raquel who’s in charge at any cost, even if that means thwarting her seduction efforts. And will a series of mishaps mean Raquel is tied to her nickname forever?
“But that’s just the latest thing, the tip of the iceberg you’ve been creating for years. Shall we go through some of the other stuff?” Clayton clearly didn’t expect her to answer, because he picked up the magazines he’d brought from the desk and put them down in front of her. It was bad, but Raquel refused to hide despite how much she wanted to cringe. Rumors of hard partying, cocaine use—even though she had never used it—infidelity, orgies, stripping. And that was just the rumors. As a finale he had a list of the names she had acquired—bitch, whore, slut, jezebel, home wrecker, and her moniker, Man-Eater.
This is embarrassing, Raquel thought, seeing everything in black and white. It was something she hadn’t thought about; hell, half the time she cultivated it, but now she was left with regret. David was the final straw. He took her already fragile reputation and pummeled it to the ground. And what was his response when she asked him about it? “I just wanted a piece of the Man-Eater, but you didn’t even put out. Hope it was worth it.”
“That’s not all true,” she said. Great, Raquel, way to sound like an intelligent, self-assured woman.
He shook his head, looking at her as if she was crazy. “No one cares. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that, but you need to get it through your thick skull. Your reputation is in the trash, and your job is on the rocks. You need me, which is why you called me. Because I am the best, and the only one who can repair your current reputation. You may not want to need me, but you do.”
Raquel reached for the pitcher full of water in the middle of the table, pouring a glass and taking a long drink, wishing it was tequila, while she composed herself. “What happens now?”
He raised his eyebrows, acknowledging that she ignored his statement. That was the best he was going to get from her, so he just needed to chill. “Right now? You are going to go the hell home and stay there. Don’t go out, because I can’t trust you to go anywhere. Even your local family restaurant isn’t safe when you’re around. Read over the contract,” he passed her a manila envelope that contained a bunch of paperwork, “carefully, because you are basically signing yourself over to me for the next six months. If you agree to the terms, then let me know and I will tell you where we go from here.”
She opened the folder, noticing how thick the contract was. “What is your strategy?”
“I’m not telling you before you agree. If you want it, you’ll sign it. And if, God forbid, anything else comes up, call me immediately.”
Clare Martin has spent the last ten years in the spotlight, becoming Hollywood’s It Girl. On the surface her life looks perfect, but in reality she’s faltering. And the last person she expects to provide any relief is her best friend’s brother, the man who’s been tying her in knots for months.

Alexander Richards has paid the price for every single mistake he’s made. He makes no excuses for what he’s done, and wants nothing more than to find some peace. But that may be impossible since he has to help the woman who’s been driving him crazy since he moved to California.
Thrown together in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way to deny the attraction that burns within them. But how can they build a future if they can’t address their own insecurities? And what happens when secrets and lies from the past threaten to pull them apart?

“Wait!” He caught up with her, kissing the back of his neck as they walked toward the shed. She angled her neck, allowing him greater access, while he nibbled his way up the side.
“What?” came out breathlessly, “are you saying you don’t want to go to the shed and get naked?”
He pressed into her, letting her feel just how much he wanted to get naked. He pressed his lips to her ear. “I think you know that’s not true. Are you sure we can go in that shed?” He wasn’t far off. It looked like a horror movie prop, where people ran when they were trying to escape a murderer only to find they’d discovered his workplace. The wood was a dull gray, worn almost white in spots. The circular window, centered at the top of the wood, had a hole that had never been repaired. One of the doors stood proud, while the other was falling off the hinge. A couple of the boards looked loose, and he ventured to guess that he could push it over with a couple of good kicks. “That’s not what I pictured for the first time.”
“Ohh, the first time,” she wiggled until he let her go so she could face him. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” It suddenly became a lot hotter, and he didn’t need a mirror to know his face was red.
“I’m not a romantic,” he grunted. “I just want to make sure I don’t get bit by any animals. Or murdered,” he muttered, when she laughed off his worries and ran toward it. The door creaked before she disappeared, calling for him to come on. He cursed under his breath, wondering whether any woman was worth following her into the dark, creepy shed. Who was he kidding? A hot, sexy woman wanted him, and all he had to do was meet her in the shed? He hot footed it lest she change her mind. He became enveloped in darkness, the only light the sliver from the broken door and mirror, and it was dusk outside.
“Clare, this shit is creepy. No amount of sex is worth dealing with this.” He screamed like a girl and jumped about ten feet when the fingers tapped him on the shoulder. He grabbed for her outline, lifting her as she continued to howl with laughter. “I’m gonna get your ass,” he promised. “And withhold whatever pleasure I would have given you.”
 

Marie Garner is a North Carolina girl who grew up in piedmont and attended college in the mountains of Cullowhee, NC. She graduated with a degree in Social Studies education, and spent several years spreading her love of history and political science to young minds.
Her nose was stuck in a book since she was little, and she spent years writing down all the crazy ideas floating in her head. She has published the first two books in her trilogy, The Misses Trilogy, with Miss Hollywood slated for release in Fall 2016. Her writing explores the complexities of relationships, something she’s all too familiar with as part of a large, crazy family.
When she’s not locked in her writing cave she can be found cheering on the Washington Redskins or watching The Walking Dead, and thinks there’s nothing sweeter than a cold Diet Coke.
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