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Cover Reveal : Wide Open Spaces By Aurora Rose Reynolds

14:56

Coming Soon.From Pepper Winters

14:54

Cover Reveal : The Summer Games : Out Of Bounds By R.S Grey

15:06

Its Live : Holding His Forever By Alexa Riley (Review Included)

Synopsis :

Derek aka Phoenix is a New York City firefighter and has dedicated his life to saving people.

When he loses two of his men in the line of duty, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to see the light

again.

However, when an angel in the form of a woman named Fia appears before him, his world as

he knows it is turned upside down.

Fia has been working hard to make money so she can finish her last semester of school. A fire

in her building sets her back to square one, but the fireman who saves her turns out to be more

than she ever expected.

Once he gets his arms around her, there’s no letting go. Because when you’ve got your forever

in your arms, nothing else matters.

Warning: This is hot and fast instalove that ignites the pages. It’s burning heat that combusts

into an inferno of lava. Okay, that’s all the fire words I could come up with. Now insert a pun

about a big hose. It’s quick, dirty, and ridiculously over the top.

Review :

4 Strawberry & Mango Stars

Now this was an Alexa Riley book that i devoured and enjoyed from the first page!

Holding his forever tells the story of Derek Pheonix (a hot as sin fire fighter) and Fia Clover who seems to be struggling with life but wants to make something out of it

Derek saves Fia when the building she lives in goes up in flames , and as they say the rest it history!

** The first time Derek and Fia meet he saves her and theres instant scorching hot chemistry ,forget about the circumstances for a few seconds these two have a insta love story unique to Alexa Riley.

Derek,what can i say the man's a hot as sin fire fighter who wants Fia and isn't going to stop until he gets Fia.

Fia's honest ,sweet and caring as they come ,she's had a hard life but she doesn't let that get her down.

Sweet ,sexy fast paced and a virgin heroine ,Alexa Riley never fails to bring these gorgeous stories to life ,it has everything we come to love and know about Alexa Riley.**

Excerpt :

Chapter 1 *Fia*

“You finish your shit, Fia?”

Sam’s gravelly voice from years of smoking barks from behind me as I hang up the phone in his

back office. A mixture of annoyance and relief fills me. I really didn’t want to have to cover

Kim’s shift at the women’s shelter tonight and was thankful she was able to make it in. I would

have done it if they needed me; I’d do anything for that place. But I’m dead on my feet as it is.

I’ve been on my feet for the past twelve hours and haven’t slept in over twentyfour, and it

would be my luck that if I went back to the shelter, it would be a busy night.

“Already clocked out.” I turn to look at Sam, whose eyes are trained on my ass. He slowly pulls

them up to my face as a smirk plays at his lips, showing off his yellowtinted teeth, not a care

that he’s openly running his eyes over my body. Sadly, I’ve become used to it. It still creeps me

out, but he’s never tried anything.

Or maybe my luck is about to change, I think, as he shuts the door to his office, trapping me in.

The door is always open. The waitresses here at Moe’s always keep our stuff stored back here,

where we clock in and out for our shifts.

“You think about my offer?” He cocks his head to the side like he’s giving me the world, not a

management position at the diner. I’d stay later after waiting tables and help with paperwork

and orders and get a raise, but I think Sam has a few more strings he wants to add to the

position¾things I want no part of. I’ve turned down the offer twice now, but he keeps telling

me to think on it.

Normally I just mumble a, “no, thanks,” on my way out the door, but now it’s closed and I’m

trapped. Trapped with a man twice my age, maybe even pushing three times my age. It’s hard

to tell with his shaved head. He’s double my size, and I don’t mean in muscle or height. No,

there’s a lot of gut on old Sam.

“I really don’t have the time.” I tell him the same thing I’ve said every time it’s been brought up.

At least, not without giving up my shifts at the shelter, and that’s not something I’m willing to

do, even if the pay is way worse over there. I love that shelter. I owe them so much after what

they did for my mother and me. I’m just thankful they pay me at all, because I would do it for

free. I hope that one day I can do it for free, but at the moment that just isn’t possible if I want

to keep a roof over my head and food on my plate.

“We’ll cut your serving time,” he suggests, taking a step towards me. I try to match his in

retreat but only hit the desk. I don’t want to cut my serving hours only to spend more time with

him in his cramped little office alone. Hell, I’ve been in here for two minutes and I feel like I’m

having a panic attack. I can feel my heartbeat pick up speed. My anxiety grows with each pull of

my breath. I know all too well how men act when they don’t get the responses they want. I’ve

seen it for years with my own father and how he treated my mother.

I just shake my head again, trying to push the words past my lips. “I really¾” My words are cut

short when Tracy throws open the door.

“Who in the hell put the¾” She stops abruptly when she sees us both standing in the tiny

office. Her eyes narrow, going back and forth between us. Tracy has been working at the diner

for years. She trained me a few months back, and many might even think she owns the place by

how she pushes everyone around. And I’m pretty sure she and Sam have a thing. I stay out of

her way. I want my tables and tips and nothing more from this place. It’s a means to an end. A

slow means, but I’m getting there, dollar by dollar, and this place has the best tips I’ve come

across so far, so I put up with it.

“I’m having a meeting.” Sam turns to look at her. Tracy purses her lips at him, clearly not liking

what he’s saying.

“No, it’s fine. I really should be going. I’ll miss the bus,” I lie. I always walk home. I grab my

purse and coat and don’t even bother to put them on. I just hold them close to my body over

my cheap polyester uniform that fits a little too snuggly on me. “Maybe Tracy would like the

manager position,” I throw out.

“What!” Tracy halfscreams, her face scrunching up. I steal the moment to slip past them both

as fast as I can and out the side door of the diner, into the chilled night. The street is empty now

that it’s almost midnight on a Tuesday.

I slip my coat on and make the halfmile walk to my apartment, which sits over an old

laundromat. Locking the door behind me, I waste no time pulling my uniform from my body and

tossing my tips from tonight on the table before jumping into the shower. I have to get the

smell of grease off my hair and body. I let the warm water run over me, relaxing my muscles as I

wash away the day’s work.

When I’m done I grab a shirt and a pair of panties and pull them on. I sit at the small foldout

table in my half kitchen, if you can call it that. It doesn’t even have a full refrigerator, just one of

those tiny ones you find in a hotel, which is probably where it came from. There’s a small sink

and microwave, and that’s about it. My exhaustion outweighs my hunger as I count my tips. A

hundred dollars on a double shift for a Tuesday isn’t too bad. Every dollar counts at this point.

I’m so close to being able to pay for my last semester of college. Twelve more credits and I’m

done, I remind myself. I can do this.

I grab the money and place it carefully, along with yesterday’s money, between the pages of a

book I keep on the table. I still need to go to the bank and deposit it. After that, I walk the few

feet to my bed in the corner of the room and fall face first into the cushioned surface.

“I miss you, Mom,” I whisper into the pillow before sleep takes me.

About The Author :

Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes.They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you!

Author Links :

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07:09

Indie Author Sales & Freebies 💙

15:20

Excerpt Reveal : Blood To Dust L.J.Shen

Coming July 18th

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

Goodreads

Synopsis :

His name is Beat, and I should hate him.

Bound, blindfolded and bruised, I'm tied in his basement, waiting for the men who stripped me

from clothes and humanity to collect his debt to them. Me.

His name is Nate and I should hate him, but I don't.

I'm not supposed to know his real name, even worse, I'm not supposed to care. He is nothing to

me but means to an end. The plan is simple: break free, collect the pieces of my broken soul,

kill the bastards and run away.

His name is Nathaniel Thomas Vela, and I've never seen his face, though I hear that it's

beautiful.

Behind the rugged and handsome exterior, there's a quiet murderer, a killer who thinks guns are

for pussies and ends people with his bare hands.

His name doesn't matter, neither does his face, but what does matter is my heart. And right

now, sadly, it's his.

Blood to Dust is a standalone, fulllength novel. It contains graphic violence and adult

situations some may find offensive.

Excerpt :

I wolf down my dinner before he grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs. He

stalks closely behind, and even though it’s taking me forever to climb up the

narrow staircase, he keeps his gruntcount to a respectable minimum.

Leading me to the bathroom by the arm, he throws the door open and we both gait

into the tiny room. Still blindfolded, I feel the cold sink stabbing at my lower back,

but the warmth of his proximity keeps me from shivering.

“I need my privacy.” I lick my lips, feeling him everywhere. Not only is Beat

physically big, he is also somewhat of a human furnace. I swear he radiates enough

heat to photosynthesize a whole forest. I guess it’s good, because I always know

when he’s around. But also bad, because why would it matter? It’s not like I can

fight him in any way.

“Dream on, Country Club.” Another grunt.

“Please.” My voice breaks. Usually, I’m counting on my caramel blonde hair and

big Disneyanimal eyes—which he unfortunately can’t see right now—to get me

out of trouble. I have a feeling this guy is harder to crack. “Just lock me in and

stand on guard outside. What can I do? Arm myself with a bar of soap? Try and

break free through the sink’s hole?”

Is he going to buy it?

Is he sensitive?

Is he hardnosed?

Maybe he’s both. He’s got some serious codes going on—no beating women, no

manhandling your victim, yet he essentially agreed to lock me in here. Then there’s

his tone and body language. Peaceful. Like he hasn’t got a care in the world, which

couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve known him for a few short hours and I’m

already privy to the fact that he was an inmate in San Dimas, has killed, owes

Godfrey a favor and has the Aryan Brotherhood on his tail.

“Be warned”—his peachy breath tickles my nose—“when people are bad to me,

I’m worse. Don’t tempt my demons.”

Beat takes off my blindfold, but he’s not as thoughtless as to show me his face. His

black tee is pulled over his head, revealing a tattooed sixpack. Even his fingertips

are full of blues and blacks. Yet, one side of his body is completely inkfree.

Massive, menacing…and as much as I hate to admit it, attractive.Sweet Statute of Liberty, if I need to screw one of them in the name of freedom,

please let it be him and not the chunky tattooist.

Beat can still see me through the fabric of his shirt, but before I get the chance to

make out his face, he dashes out of the bathroom and locks the door from the

outside with a key.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to do everything. Pee, shit, shower, get dressed.

Starting now.”

I don’t argue or waste a second. I jump into the shower and pee as the stream of

gurgling water splashes over my body. My bladder is burning with release, and so

are the blistering fresh wounds Seb decorated me with. Slowly, I’m starting to feel

a little better, think a little clearer.

The water is hot and violent against my strained muscles. There’s only one bar of

soap—I’m pretty sure Beat and Ink are sharing it (I’m guessing they’re roomies by

the two wornout towels on the rack). Not very sanitary, but hygiene is a luxury I

cannot afford right now.

I scrub my body and keep the water running as I try to pry open the overhead

ruststained window next to the showerhead. I stand on my toes, peeking outside,

blinking away disbelief as the sight in front of me registers. A teenager with a

beanie zigzags his way on a bike in the middle of the road, the electric wires

above his head tangled with shoelaces and sneakers. Beyond the sight of shotgun

houses, wilting porches and the echoes of desperate, barking dogs…a Taco Bell.

Taco Bell!

I recognize the branch. I’m in Stockton. Whose streets I know, whose crack heads I

studied, whose language of hardship and adversity I speak fluently.

I study my surroundings. The house I’m trapped in is a simple onestory, and the

house right in front of it is probably an identical bungalow. It looks deserted, so

yelling will get me nowhere other than on Beat and Ink’s shit list.

But I’m guessing by the sound of traffic and the location of the fast food restaurant

that we’re close to El Dorado, one of Stockton’s main streets.Knowing where I am will work in my favor when I run away.

And I will run away. One way or the other. With or without Beat’s help.

I always land on my feet.

I broke free from Callum, Godfrey and Sebastian. Getting rid of these two should

be a walk in the park.

Beat’s fist slams against the door three times, then unlocks the door from the

outside.

“Yo, Silver Spoon. Your time’s up.”

“Just one second,” I call, turning off the faucet and stepping outside. I reach for

one of the manly dark towels and cover myself up as I squat down to pick up my

gray dress.

Hold on a minute.

Manly…Dark…Towels.

They might have a shaving razor. Holy hell, they might have a weapon in here.

I start flinging drawers open, still wrapped in a towel, desperately trying to find

something to injure Beat with. I don’t even care if he hears. Give me a razor and I

will dice this 6’5 Goliath to pieces the size of Barbacoa. Talent can be outworked

and rage can outweigh size. That’s the motto I live by.

Beat bangs on the door again, and it wails on its hinges.

“Hey…you,” he grunts. He doesn’t even know my name. “If you make me open

this door myself, you’ll be fucking sorry.”

I ignore him. He can’t rape or harm me. Godfrey made that clear. Honestly? I’m

not scared of him that much. He’s been nothing but compassionate to me so far, in

his own, angry, Stockton way. Damn it, though. They have absolutely nothing in

these drawers. Empty, empty, empty. What’s wrong with these men? Do they not

live here, or did they think about this scenario beforehand? Probably the latter. I’m

just about to turn around and pick up my dress when the door swings open and Guy Fawkes’s face greets me again, batshit crazy galore. The drawers are all open. I

threw most of their contents on the floor in my desperate search for a weapon.

This is not looking good for me.

This man is going to kill me…and for once in my life, I don’t feel like putting up a

fight anymore.

About The Author :

L.J. Shen is a bestselling author of Contemporary Romance novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.She enjoys the simple things in life, like chocolate, wine, reading, HBO, spending time with her girlfriends and internetstalking Chris Hemsworth. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.

Author Links :

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