Apr 22, 2018 | April 2018, Barbara Devlin, Blog, The Extra Shot
Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.
Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.
Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits.
Today you’ll find an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from The Blood Reaver by USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara Devlin to jump start your week along with a fabulous giveaway too! This is the sixth book in the Pirates of the Britannia series where the Pirates of the Coast crossover into The Pirates of the Britannia. Discover a whole lot of goodness in this new adventure.
One quick note, the pre-order price of The Blood Reaver releases is $2.99 so be sure to one-click your copy now readers, release day is April 24th!
Be sure to stop by the blog tomorrow for my review on The Blood Reaver, you don’t want to miss this exciting installment in the Pirates of the Britannia series!
Official Back Blurb:
After her father and her older brother die of an infectious fever, and an unscrupulous sea captain abandons Rose Armistead in Port Royal, Jamaica, she must find safe passage home. When she meets a handsome mariner with his own ship, in an establishment of ill repute, she pays him to carry her, her mother, and her younger brother to Charles Town. But the man she considers her savior hides a dark secret, and it may destroy her. Can Rose accept her man’s true identity and find love?
When a beautiful woman walks into the most notorious brothel in Port Royal, Turner Reyson, a cunning pirate known as the Blood Reaver, offers his assistance, because he wants her in his bunk, but he conceals the nature of his business, as he casts off. At sea, Rose displays a peculiar ability to spot prize and booty, and his suspicious crew declares her the Lady of Fortune, which places her in a perilous position, when they insist on keeping her aboard ship. Playing two sides of the same coin, Turner must win his woman or risk mutiny, which would endanger her and her family. Can the Blood Reaver save Rose?
Chapter One
March, 1680
It was not the most ideal introduction, to meet a beautiful young woman at the wrong end of a three-barrel flintlock pistol, which she stole from an unoccupied table, while the owner got his nutmegs sucked. Garbed in a fancy blue dress, with a matching ruffled contraption on her head, she did not belong in one of the most violent brothels in Port Royal. Biting her bottom lip, she adjusted the gun in her grip, belying the fact that she possessed little if any experience with weapons, and crept further into the whorehouse.
“Hello.” Her hand shook, as she took aim at the crowd, in general. “I do not wish to be rude or cause trouble, but someone stole my trunk, which was sitting in front of this fine establishment, while I asked for directions, and I would like the return of my belongings, please.”
A fiddler screeched a bawdy tune, as several cup-shots took a flyer with a rough collection of three-penny uprights, in the back. At the bar, Turner Reyson, a pirate known on the high seas as the Blood Reaver, studied the pretty bit o’ fluff, while everyone else ignored her, downed his rum, dragged his sleeve across his mouth, and navigated the tables, to get a closer look at his potential prey, given he had yet to fill his bed. Just as he drew near, she cocked the pistol, pointed toward the ceiling, closed her eyes, scrunched her face, and pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed, and she started and shrieked, as quiet fell on the bordello.
Halting in his tracks, he snickered and waited to see what she did for an encore, but if she were half as spirited between the sheets, he would be a happy man.
“I beg your pardon.” She cleared her throat, as he moved behind her, for close inspection. From beneath her bonnet, he spied sweet little brown curls at the nape of her neck, and his fingertips itched to toy with a thick lock. “I am so sorry to disturb you, but I must have my things.” She stepped forward, and Turner splayed his arms to part his fellow buccaneers. “Now, my mother and my brother wait for me, outside, and I cannot leave without recovering my property.”
“Watch out, men.” Turner chuckled, given the chit’s moxie. “I would rather set sail on a Friday, with a Jonah, than tangle with an armed, angry woman.” To hoots and hollers, he raised his hands. “Come on, swabs, humor the little lady.”
In unison, the motely crew of raiders and whores parodied his stance and howled with laughter.
“But, I am serious.” She peered over her shoulder, and he glimpsed glorious blue eyes and lush red lips he could not wait to sample. “I must recover my trunk.” She waved the pistol in the air. “Whoever took it should be ashamed, because it is wrong to steal.”
“Can you describe the item in question?” a grey-haired salt asked, in a mocking timbre.
“Yes.” The pistol fired, and she screamed, when a lantern shattered above the bar, and Red Doyle, the bartender, ducked for cover, along with everyone else. In that moment, she glanced at Turner. “Did I do that?”
“Aye.” He nodded and bit his tongue against a guffaw, as she struggled with the weight of the weapon, and he did not want her angry with him. “Be careful, before you hurt yourself or someone else.”
“Oh, dear.” With a lethal pout, which he wagered could bring the most ornery pirate to his knees, she addressed Doyle. “I hope you are all right, but I seek my trunk, which is made of camphor wood, with red painted leather, featuring floral motifs, and the initials RA on the top.”
“Lady, Skip Peterson has it, and he’s over there.” Doyle pointed to the offending party, and she marched forth, with Turner in her wake. “He’s the one in the floppy black hat.”
“Aw, come on, Doyle.” Perched atop the trunk in question, Skip pounded his fist on the table. “Finders, keepers.”
“How dare you take my things.” The fascinating creature stomped a foot. “You could at least display a modicum of contrition, because you stole my trunk, and I insist you give it back, this instant.”
“Oh?” Skip stood and rotated to face her. “Who is going to make me?” He surveyed her from top to toe, and Turner could almost read the thief’s thoughts. “You?”
“Peterson, carry the trunk outside, and put it where you found it.” Turner folded his arms. “Now.”
“I didn’t know she was with you, Reyson.” Peterson scratched his temple and shuffled his feet. Then he smacked another tar. “Here, now. Give me a hand with the lady’s trunk.”
“You swiped it.” The burley swab chuckled. “So, you may ask my arse, because it is not worth the fight.”
“Oh, all right.” With a grimace, Peterson hefted the fancy coffer. “Where do you want it?”
“Where I left it.” Despite her frippery, the wench showed courage, as she tapped her foot. “And have care with my property, as the trunk was a gift from my father.”
“My lady, I am your most humble servant.” Of course, Peterson taunted her, but she appeared oblivious. “What else do you require? Shall I wipe your—”
“Please, do not be crude, as I would conclude this most irksome business, posthaste.” At the entrance, Peterson continued outside, but she paused, set the weapon on the table, from where she claimed it, faced the crowd, and smiled. “Thank you, so much, for your cooperation. You have been very kind.”
To Turner’s disgust, a couple of buccaneers actually stood and saluted her. As she stepped into the sunlight, a cheer erupted from the brothel, and he cursed under his breath.
At the roadside, a portly woman withered beneath a frilly parasol and fanned herself, while a young lad lingered at her side, and both eyed Turner with a healthy dose of scrutiny absent in their fetching relation, to her detriment, because he presented a very real threat to her.
Without acknowledgement, Peterson dumped the chest and brushed past Turner, and he gave his attention to the skirt.
“I see you found your things.” The scamp scowled at Turner. “Who is this gentleman?”
“I am no gentleman.” Turner actually took offense to the mere suggestion, as it left a foul taste in his mouth. “And you should not insult me, when I extended my support to the lady.”
“Oh, I almost forgot about you.” She blinked. Now that hurt, because he had no trouble filling his bunk. “Clinton, mind your manners, because this gentle—nice man supported my cause, and I owe him a debt of gratitude, which we are honor-bound to discharge.”
“I have no interest in your gratitude or your honor.” At the end of his tether, Turner folded his arms, planted his feet, and wondered how long it would take him to get between her thighs. “Well, are you going to tell me your name, or am I to guess?”
“Forgive my impudence, sir, but it has been a rather taxing day, and I am a tad out of sorts.” She squared her shoulders. “I am Rose Armistead, this is my mother, Bettine Armistead, and this is my brother, Clinton Armistead. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I am not.” Clinton narrowed his stare. “And I shall be hanged before I claim otherwise.”
“Clinton.” As her cheeks shaded red, Rose compressed her lips and then met Turner’s gaze. “My apologies, as my brother has been unwell and is still recovering. To whom do I owe my thanks, good sir?”
“I am neither good nor a sir, and you would do well to remember that.” Just as he prepared to inform her of his true occupation, he reconsidered his tack, given his pirate name would inspire more fear than confidence. “I am Captain Turner Reyson.”
“A captain?” Rose clasped her hands beneath her chin and bounced on her toes. “Can it be possible that fortune smiles upon us, after our difficulties, of late? Are you by chance master of a ship, Captain Reyson?”
“Aye.” He nodded once, more than a little confused by her expression, as he revisited the niceties and the proper address she would expect from a regular seaman. “I command the Malevolent, Miss Armistead.”
“Mama, our prayers are answered.” To his surprise, Rose briefly clasped his forearm and then withdrew. “Captain Reyson, might I hire you to take us home, to Charles Town, in His Majesty’s Province of Carolina? I can pay you well.”
“I am not a transport service, Miss Armistead, though I might be persuaded.” In truth, the idea appealed to him, because a lot could happen in the close confines of his brigantine, and he needed the money, but there was another reason that swayed his position. If he sailed north, he could launch a surprise attack, given most pirates embarked from the south, on a galleon loaded with gold, bearing east from the Spanish Main. “First, I would know how you arrived in Port Royal, because you do not belong here. And if I were to deliver you home, what would you pay me?”
“Ours is a sad tale, Captain Reyson.” With her hand, she shielded her face, and he admired her flawless skin of pure ivory. “My family journeyed to Alicante, so my father could open new trade relationships for Charles Town. During our stay, he became ill with an infectious fever, which later struck my elder brother, and both perished.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” Given the vast markets exchanged in the Spanish port city, he concluded her family must possess great wealth, which further stimulated his interest. “So, what brought you here?”
“Although my father arranged return passage, we missed the departure, due to his failing condition, and I was left to secure alternative travel for myself, my mother, and my younger brother, after burying our loved ones, in Spain. On the recommendation of an acquaintance, we hired Captain Donat.” With a trembling chin, and a furrowed brow, she frowned. “After paying full fare, for three passengers, we set sail aboard the Sea Serpent. A sennight into the voyage, we discovered the captain carried human cargo, which we do not support, so he put us off in Port Royal, while he conducted business, and refused to refund any portion of our money. Thus, we are at your mercy, and I beg you to consider my request.”
“What did Donat charge to deliver you from Alicante to Charles Town?” Turner mulled the possibilities and associated cost. Since he missed his last mark, due to foul weather, he had to find something to satisfy his crew’s thirst for booty. “And what sort of accommodations do you require, because options are limited aboard the Malevolent.”
“We will take whatever you provide and be glad of it, Captain Reyson.” Rose reached for her mother’s hand. “And we paid five pounds sterling, each, for myself and for my mother, and two pounds and ten shillings for Clinton, as is the usual rate, or so I am told. However, I am unwilling to pay more than half, up front, given Captain Donat took advantage of us, so I shall remit the remainder of our fare upon our arrival in Charles Town.”
“You are a shrewd negotiator, Miss Armistead.” As much as he hated to admit it, she gained a measure of respect, because she did not cower in the face of adversity. Where most women would cry and yield to hysterics, in similar circumstances, Rose simply sought another course of action, which included the none-too-smart but audacious invasion of a whorehouse rife with cutthroats and pirates. “Allow me to suggest the Port Royal Inn, where you can take rooms for the night and enjoy a decent meal. In the morning, meet me at the docks.”
“Does that mean you will help us?” Given her smile, there was little he would not do for her, and he promised to weigh anchor in her, no doubt, uncharted territory, before the journey’s end. “You will take us home?”
Inclining his head, he winked. “Miss Armistead, you got yourself a ship.”
. 
Starting April 24th for a limited time you can one-click
the Brethren of the Coast and set sail on a fabulous adventure.
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Coffee With
Authors Dish
USA Today bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, Delaware that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite.
Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature not so perfect heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero before they find their happily ever after.
Barbara is a disabled-in-the-line-of-duty retired police officer, and she earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.
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Apr 15, 2018 | April 2018, Blog, Taryn Leigh Taylor, The Extra Shot
Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.
Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.
Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits.
Today we’ve got an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Playing for Keeps by Taryn Leigh Taylor to jump start your week along with a fabulous giveaway too!
One quick note, the pre-order price of Playing for Keeps is $3.49 so be sure to one-click your copy now readers!
Official Back Blurb:
The stakes are high when you’re playing for keeps…
Pro hockey player Eric Jacobs should be focused on rehabbing his knee and getting back on the ice where he belongs. Then his grandmother sells the family bakery without telling him, and the gloves come off. He’s not losing his childhood home without a fight—but the new owner is proving as stubborn as she is gorgeous, and it’s throwing him off his game.
Rebecca Callahan is searching for her passion, and she’s determined not to let her lack of baking experience stand in the way of making her new business a success. Especially not with the former owner’s handsome grandson just waiting for her to fail. If she’s going to make him eat his words, she needs to keep her mind on the bakery and stop imagining Eric’s sexy abs as dessert.
Now Rebecca and Eric are facing off in a battle of wills, but will giving into the heat between them be a recipe for disaster, or the icing on the cupcake?
“Can I try?”
He turned to face her fully, resting an elbow on the top of the stick. She didn’t want to notice the snug fit of his grey t-shirt over his incredible chest, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Why?” Suspicion made his voice flat.
“You said this is your passion.” She shrugged. “Maybe hockey is my passion, too.”
Rebecca didn’t suppose he meant his skeptical face to look cute, but it kind of was.
“Besides,” she went in for the kill, “you wouldn’t have any pucks if I hadn’t burned those cupcakes.”
“Well, personally I don’t understand how hitting things with a piece of wood could be your passion,” he chided, “but help yourself.”
She followed his head tip to find an old garbage can full of hockey sticks to her right, tucked beside the building. Grabbing one, she marched over to join him in the center of the tarmac.
“Whoa there, slugger.” Eric grabbed the stick from her and walked back to the garbage can. “As a rule,” he said over his shoulder, shoving the stick back in and picking a new one, “you don’t want the stick to be taller than you.”
He came back and held his selection in front of her. His knuckles brushed her arm as he measured, and she stiffened at the contact. It came just a bit above her armpit.
“That one’s close. Since your shoes are kind of like being on skates.”
She accepted the new stick. It felt awkward in her hands. “Okay, coach. What do I do?”
“Well, first of all, this isn’t golf. You’re going to want to spread your hands apart and choke up on the shaft.”
Her inner teen boy snort-laughed at the instructions. “Say what?”
He rolled his eyes at her childishness, but the corner of his mouth tugged up as he stick-handled a cupcake into place in front of her.
“Now you want the puck, or in our case, the cupcake, more in the center of the blade,” he instructed.
“That’s the curvy part?” she clarified, waggling her hips a little as she got set to take her shot. The sudden weight of his hand on her lower back made her freeze in place.
“Still not golf,” he reminded her, and his deep voice unleashed a shiver down her spine.
Had she been standing this close to him the whole time?
Eric removed his hand and took a step back, readjusting his grip on his hockey stick. “So now you just shift your weight, flick your wrists, and follow through by pointing the toe of your blade at whatever you’re aiming for.”
His demonstration ended with another snipe to the top left-hand corner. Hers…rolled harmlessly on the pavement, stopping two feet in front of her stick.
She expected a joke then, but instead his face was earnest and encouraging. “Not bad.” He stick-handled another cupcake in front of her. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, instead of wondering how his hockey skills might transfer into…other areas. Rebecca had always been a sucker for a man who was good with his hands.
“This time, stand a little closer, put your weight on your back foot to start.”
She followed his instructions, and her cupcake rolled all the way to the wall this time.
“Yeah! Yes. That’s what I’m talking about!”
Rebecca returned his high-five. She was a little surprised at the pride tingling through her limbs. It was such a silly little accomplishment—flinging a cupcake at a wall with a stick. And yet, Eric’s patient tutelage and genuine joy in her triumph made it feel like a big deal. It was the same way she always felt when tackling something new, only…more somehow. It was kind of nice celebrating an accomplishment with someone else. Dangerous. But nice.
Kind of like his smile, she decided, as her eyes dropped to his mouth. He seemed really close again. Or was she the one moving forward? His shoulders were very broad, and she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. Even in her three-and-a-half inch heels she wasn’t tall enough to kiss him. He’d have to lean forward a bit and—
A loud crash broke into the moment, and Rebecca whirled around to face the big dumpster in the far corner, heart jack-hammering at the weird scrambling sound emanating from behind it. Eric barely glanced over at the source of the noise, although he seemed to be breathing heavier than normal, too.
“Probably just Mario.”
“Who?”
“Our alley cat.”
“You have a cat?”
“Not really. I mean, we’ve never seen him. Just hear him out here foraging sometimes. He likes cake.”
She watched in fascination as he scooped up a cupcake with his stick, bounced it on the curve—the blade, she corrected herself—a few times, and then lobbed it gently in the direction of the dumpster. It fell neatly between the wall and the big bin. There was a scuffling sound—a big hungry cat who wasn’t overly picky about whether or not his dinner had baking powder in it, she surmised.
Rebecca flushed a little at the show of skill. It was kind of…hot, the way he wielded his stick. She cleared her throat and shoved her mind back to more innocuous things. “So why did your grandma name him Mario?”
“Uh. Actually I named him.” Eric’s blush spread up his neck and reddened his ears. “Mario LeMeow. You know, like Mario Lemieux…played center for Pittsburgh? Hockey legend?” he added, when Rebecca shrugged uncomprehendingly at the name. “But, you know, with meow. Because cat.”
Rebecca couldn’t fight the smile that dawned. “That’s pretty much the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”
Eric frowned, and the disgruntled look on his face knocked cat names down to second place on the adorable list. “Just shoot, wouldja?”
Playing for Keeps releases on digital retailers everywhere on April 24th.
BUY LINKS:
USA: http://bit.ly/pfkcom
Canada: http://bit.ly/pfkazca
UK: http://bit.ly/pfkcouk
Australia: http://bit.ly/pfkau
.
THREE copies of PLAYING TO WIN
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Authors Dish
Taryn Leigh Taylor: Taryn Leigh Taylor likes dinosaurs, bridges, and space, both personal and of the final frontier variety. She shamelessly indulges in cliches, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande-six-pump-whole-milk-no-water chai tea latte, aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop anytime I…ooh! These are pretty!), and her penchant for falling in lust with fictional men with great abs (yum!)
She also really loves books, which is what sent her down the crazy path of writing one in the first place.
Website: http://www.tarynleightaylor.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tarynltaylor1
Twitter: https://twitter.com/tarynltaylor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tarynltaylor/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13696147.Taryn_Leigh_Taylor
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Apr 8, 2018 | April 2018, Blog, Samantha Chase, The Extra Shot
Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.
Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.
Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits.
Today we’ve got an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Until there was Us by Samantha Chase to jump start your week along with a fabulous giveaway too!
One quick note, the pre-order price of Until there was Us has been REDUCED to $5.99 so be sure to one-click your copy here before it goes up!
Okay, so maybe hanging out with Alex wasn’t the smartest choice for the day, Megan thought as soon as Alex walked out the door.
She already felt emotional and overwhelmed from thinking she’d lost the dog, and it wouldn’t take much more for her to do something ridiculous—like throw herself at him.
Yeah, she was already teetering on the edge.
With a sigh, she paced the small living room and tried to force herself to think about something else—like how she should have opted to go out with him rather than staying in. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the guesthouse. She did. The place was cute, and Summer had impeccable taste. All in all, she was happy here, but it was one thing to be hanging out there alone and another to do so with Alex.
Alex.
So many things were swirling in her mind where he was concerned. The obvious was how the attraction not only was still there but felt even stronger than it had before. Keeping her distance when he was near was a total act of self-control. But she wasn’t stupid. There were issues that had to be dealt, with and confrontation was something she tended to avoid at all costs.
It was one of the most un-Montgomery things about her.
Her family was known for going after what they wanted and not being afraid to get in people’s faces. Megan preferred to fly under the radar and blend in.
Normally that wasn’t an issue. Honestly, she didn’t ruffle feathers at home or at work. Her relationships with men tended to end amicably.
Except with Alex.
Yeah, she’d really screwed that one up, and she knew it was time to deal with it.
Or distract him with seduction. That could work, right?
“No, no, no,” she sighed as she walked over to the kitchen table and began clearing away the decorative placemats and napkins to make room for their food. As appealing as seducing Alex was—really, truly was—this was something that had to be dealt with first.
Then she could seduce him.
Or hope he’d seduce her.
A small grin crossed her face at the thought of how thoroughly he’d seduced her the day of Zach and Gabriella’s wedding.
Tugging at the hem of her dress for the hundredth time, Megan silently cursed the fact that she’d let her mother talk her into it. The navy-blue fabric clung to every ample curve and was shorter than the dresses she normally wore, and all in all, she was feeling very self-conscious about the whole thing.
She was surrounded by family and knew she shouldn’t be feeling anything but happy to be here, but old insecurities still lingered. Okay, maybe they had resurfaced thanks to her ex constantly harping on her about losing weight. Megan wasn’t fat—she knew that—but she was definitely not slim. She envied her cousin Summer. She had the kind of body Megan had always wished she had—slim—and she looked good in everything. Whereas Megan had to worry about how every article of clothing she had would fit or if it would be too clingy.
Another tug at the hem of her dress as she looked around to see where Summer was. They didn’t get to see each other nearly enough and maybe…
“Excuse me?”
Megan turned and saw the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life. He was tall with sandy-brown hair and a smile that seemed almost too perfect. She swallowed hard, convinced he couldn’t possibly want to talk to her.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked, and Megan’s heart beat wildly in her chest.
She looked around and wondered whether someone had put him up to this. But he didn’t look the least bit insincere. If anything, he seemed slightly amused by her confusion.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Um…yes. Thank you.”
His smile broadened, and it was almost lethal. He had dimples too. She had to stifle a sigh when she noticed them.
“I’m Alex Rebat,” he said, extending his hand to her. “I’m a friend of Zach’s. And you are?”
Blushing because his voice was as magnificent as the rest of him, she replied, “I’m Megan Montgomery. Zach’s cousin.”
She shook his hand, but he didn’t release hers. Instead, he led her onto the dance floor where a slow song was playing. At first, Megan felt a little self-conscious about dancing with a stranger, but as soon as Alex gently wrapped his arm around her waist, all negative thoughts disappeared.
They swayed together to the music as if they’d danced together for years.
They talked as if they’d known each other forever.
And they were both more than ready to move off the dance floor and find someplace quiet to talk after their fourth dance.
Alex kept her hand in his as he led her from the banquet room to the lobby and finally out to the garden. The sun had gone down, and the entire area was lit with hundreds of soft-white twinkly lights. To Megan it looked like something out of a fairy tale while she felt like she was living in the middle of one.
Hand in hand they walked along the paths as Alex told her about his job as a physical therapist, and the more he spoke, the more she wanted to know about him. He had confidence and passion as he spoke about his work and his life, and she found herself hanging on his every word. And when he asked about her—her job, her life—she felt inferior in comparison.
So she’d given him a brief overview of her IT career and her life in Albany before turning the conversation over to him. The smile he gave her told her he knew what she was doing.
“Not big on talking about yourself, huh?” he asked with a knowing smile.
Megan blushed as she shook her head. “There isn’t much to tell. My job is fairly boring compared to yours. What you do really makes a difference in people’s lives—and after seeing all you did for Zach, I’m in total awe of you.”
They stopped walking, and Alex moved so he was standing in front of her. “Don’t,” he said, his voice a little gruff. “Zach did all the hard work. I was merely there to help. Not every case is as successful as his. He had the drive to do it, and he worked hard to make it happen.”
Both his words and his voice were so intense that Megan was overwhelmed with the urge to reach out and touch him—not just hold his hand but…soothe him. Comfort him.
And she did.
Reaching up with her free hand, she gently caressed his face and heard his sharp intake of breath. This wasn’t her—she didn’t do things like this, wasn’t this forward—and yet she couldn’t help herself.
“Megan,” he said softly as his head lowered toward hers.
She wasn’t an overly romantic person and didn’t believe in things like this actually happening, and yet the instant Alex’s lips touched hers, Megan swore she saw fireworks. Normally she was a little more timid, inhibited, but something about Alex changed that. Wrapping her arms around him, she melted against him—reveling in the heat of his body, the feel of his lean frame against hers. The feeling must have been mutual because she heard a low growl come from him as he pulled her even closer.
Never before had she been kissed like this—it was the kind of kiss that started slowly, and they both sank into it until it kept going and neither wanted it to end. Megan’s hands raked up into his hair, and when they were finally forced to break apart for breath, in only a matter of seconds they dove in for another taste.
For a few glorious moments, they had been cocooned in their own little world out in the garden, but it didn’t take long for other wedding guests to start coming out and walking around, and the mood was broken. Alex never stopped touching her though—everywhere they went her hand was in his, and she found she was thankful for the constant connection.
Over the course of the wedding reception, they danced again and talked and laughed, and Megan was nearly bristling with anticipation by the time Gabriella threw the bouquet. At that point, she knew she and Alex could leave. When she noticed other guests getting up to go, she looked over at Alex and said, “So…”
He was sitting beside her, and the expression on his face told her everything she needed to know.
He wanted to leave.
And he wanted to leave with her.
Casually they walked around and said their goodbyes separately. Out in the lobby, Alex took her by the hand—or maybe that time she took his—and they made their way down the massive hallway that connected the banquet hall to the hotel. Several times Megan had looked around to make sure no one saw them—and not because she was embarrassed but because she didn’t want the interruption. If she didn’t get Alex alone soon, she swore she’d spontaneously combust!
The ride in the elevator seemed to take forever, and she swore the walk to her room was a mile long. But once they were inside and the door was closed?
Perfect.
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Samantha Chase is a New York Times and USA Today bestseller of contemporary romance. She released her debut novel in 2011 and currently has more than forty titles under her belt! When she’s not working on a new story, she spends her time reading romances, playing way too many games of Scrabble or Solitaire on Facebook, wearing a tiara while playing with her sassy pug Maylene…oh, and spending time with her husband of 25 years and their two sons in North Carolina.
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Mar 18, 2018 | Blog, March 2018, Rowan Worth, The Extra Shot
Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.
Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.
Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits.
Today we’ve got an EXCLUSIVE excerpt to jump start your week along with a fabulous giveaway too!
She was across the room in seconds. It was like watching a racquetball game where she was the ball. Esme never stopped moving. She tugged at her shirt collar as she crossed to another wall and whirled. “Damn it; I hate wearing other people’s clothes. They never fit right. I swear they’re going to choke me . . . Whi-iip! Damn it. There has to be something I can do to keep myself busy until he comes back.
“It’s staying in this house.” There was a sudden cunning edge to her voice. “That’s what’s wrong. I’ve just been cooped up too long. How about if I go for a nice long walk . . . jog . . . run. I could run for a while. Just keep running . . .”
“Esme, honey, you’re not going out. Not like this.” Ripper took the brunt of her irritation as she whirled on him, asking who gave him the right to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. Natalie and Ripper had gotten home a half hour earlier. Dr. Ryan had been out of the office indefinitely. The staff wasn’t giving explanations, and there were enough annoyed women there in various degrees of pregnancy trying to reschedule or get referred to another doctor that the Forester couple had given up.
Bay tuned out the argument and walked over to Serena, notepad in hand. “How long has she been like this?”
“It started about an hour after you guys—well, no, after Whip left—let’s be honest. It was just pacing at first; like she’d had two too many cups of coffee or something. It’s been getting steadily worse. Where is Whip?”
“I asked Steel to tell him to wait outside until he called. I wanted to see if Esme was doing the same thing . . .”
“Whip’s like this too?” Appalled, Serena looked from one male to the other.
“Can you do anything?” Steel asked his friend.
“Hell, I don’t even know what’s wrong with her. It could be she’s coming off the drug, whatever it was. This could be the equivalent of withdrawal.”
“After one dose? And what about my nephew? How the hell did it get in his system?”
“Who knows? That’s the problem. We just don’t know. It could be a side effect . . . it could be anything.” Bay’s concern sharpened his tone.
“I want Whip. NOW!”
The front door slammed open, making everyone jump as Whip stalked into the room as if summoned by her words. His face was tight and sheened with sweat as his head turned from side to side, searching, tracking. His gaze was dangerous as he prowled into the room. His attention locked on Esme. Even as he took in her pale, sweaty complexion, she launched herself across the room at him with a moaning noise that was a cross between a whimper and an exclamation.
The other Foresters looked on as the couple tried to devour each other. Wild kisses deepened. Esme’s legs were locked around Whip’s waist, but she was equally sealed into place by his arms locked around her back. His large hand cupped her skull, fingers splayed to cover as much as he could, as if he expected her to try to break free of his ravenous mouth.
There was no chance of that. Even the spectators could see that she was doing her best to crawl inside him.
“Where have you—?”
“Damn, I missed you—”
“God, how could I—?”
“. . . long, too long . . .”
Whip’s shirt fell to the floor.
“Uh, guys.” Serena grabbed her uncle’s arm. “We need to get out of here. NOW.”
The two men looked at her, their faces blank.
“Damn. Natalie! Pheromone alert! Help me out here!”
Instantly, Natalie grabbed Bay by the hand while she used a full-body bump to rouse Ripper from his stupor.
“Come on. They are not going to stop. We are not going to watch. We need to get out of here. Now.”
Steel swore softly as he shook his head to clear it. He glanced over his shoulder at the oblivious, now half-clad couple in the living room. “Bay, should we try to stop—?”
“No.” His voice thick, the doctor steered them through the kitchen and outside. “The state they’re in—I don’t want to be responsible for what would happen if we tried to take her away from him right now. Whether it’s the drug affecting him somehow or ‘just’ her, at this point he’d go wolf on us. And we know it’s the drugs with her; we just don’t know what it would do if we, uh, interrupted. Her heart was racing and her blood pressure was doing weird things before he showed up. Frankly, I’m hoping this acts like another dose and actually stabilizes her.”
“And we need to find out what the hell she was drugged with. If it can affect us third-hand, two days later, halfway across a room, we have to stop it.”
“Or build those two an igloo,” Ripper muttered, even as he tugged at Natalie’s hand and pulled her up the back stairs toward their room.
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Author Info:
Rowan Worth lives in Virginia where she writes both contemporary and paranormal romantic suspense and adventure. Romance…Suspense…and a Touch of Paranormal Heat…you’ll find all of that and more in The Foresters, an ongoing series featuring a family of shapeshifters trying to stop an enemy intent on destroying their small pack. The first book, PAST IMPERFECT, is available now!
Rowan is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), and its Washington (D.C.) Romance Writers (WRW) and Futuristic, Fantasy, and Paranormal (FF&P) chapters. She currently serves as President of the WRW board. Her manuscript LACY’S GIFT (now TOUCH OF LIES) placed second in the esteemed Georgia Romance Writers “Maggie” contest for unpublished authors and recently finaled in the Wisconsin “Fab 5” contest. She is represented by Miriam Kriss, Vice President, at the Irene Goodman Agency.
Find out more about Rowan at her website and subscribe to her newsletter Worth Reading! for all the latest release information, fun shapeshifter trivia, and a peek at some delicious upcoming covers: http://rowanworth.com
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Mar 11, 2018 | Blog, Delancey Stewart, March 2018, The Extra Shot
Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.
Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.
Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits.
Today we’ve got TWO EXCLUSIVE excerpts and a few giveaways to jump start your week. Each author has brought there own giveaways so be sure to read for details within each feature!
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT:
Miranda:
The solid wood door swung out easily when I pulled, and my heart began beating a quicker rhythm as Chance’s distinctive low voice rolled out the open door of an office adjacent to the lobby.
“If it gets any worse, let me know, John. We’ll lend a hand.” I could see Chance’s back as he stood looking out the window behind his desk, the phone to his ear.
“Miranda. What’s up?” There was an office on each side of the small reception space, and Sam appeared from the side opposite Chance’s office, no doubt summoned by the bell above the front door.
“Hey Sam.” My eyes were locked on Chance’s broad back, a dark flannel pulled tightly across the muscles just below the curls that were beginning to form at the top of his tanned neck. I pulled my gaze away to land on Sam instead. His familiar face was hardly a comfort. Chance and Sam’s eyes were almost identical, and the angular cut of their cheekbones and jaws were similar too. Both Palmer brothers could have been carved from stone—they were that good looking.
Despite their similar faces, I swooned when Chance looked at me, and I definitely felt something when my eyes met Sam’s—only I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He made me nervous. Not in a good way, but in a way that kept me on my toes. And the way he was staring at me now made me uncomfortable. Like he was trying to figure something out. I was suddenly regretting wearing my hair down.
Best get to the point. “I came in to ask about that job. The administrative one?” My fingers found the tassel on my purse and began pulling at it.
Sam stepped out of his office and squinted at me as one side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. He looked confused, his face crinkling up. “Why?”
Annoyance flooded me. This was the problem with Sam. Nothing was straightforward. I sighed, turning to see if Chance might be done with his call and come out so I could speak to him instead. Of course then I’d be nervous instead of annoyed. “I thought I might be able to help out with that.”
“It’s not a ‘help out’ type of thing. It’s a job. And you already have a job. And you’re in school.” Sam leaned his tall body against the door jam of his office and crossed his big arms over his broad chest. He gave off an air of judgment that put me on edge. And of course he was being difficult about something that could be simple.
“But Chance said it was part time?”
“What part of the time do you see yourself being here?” He was smiling now and I got the distinct impression he was toying with me. I shifted my weight uncomfortably as I stood there, in Maddie’s khaki pants and flowered blouse. The clothes had me feeling a bit unlike myself, and now I was standing here like an idiot in the middle of the room and Sam was being difficult. I had no doubt Chance would have offered me a seat. He was the polite brother. Sam was just watching me, like I was put there to amuse him.
“The part of the time when you guys need me, I guess.” My voice didn’t carry the confident edge I wanted it to, so I cleared my throat and continued. “I can rearrange my diner shifts if I need to, and college is online. I do most of my work at night anyway.”
“Right.” Sam chewed on his bottom lip for a second and then something about his fingernails caught his attention. He brought his hand to his face and rubbed his thumb against his index finger, looking intently at it. Finally he tucked his hand back under the opposite elbow and looked back up at me. “Okay.” He stood upright again and turned around to head back into his office, leaving me standing in the middle of the room.
Okay? What did that mean?
Love Reimagined © Delancey Stewart 2018. All rights reserved.
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Delancey Stewart is an award-winning author who writes romantic fiction with humor and heart.
Stewart has lived on both coasts, in big cities and small towns. She’s been a pharmaceutical rep, a personal trainer and a wineseller.
A wife and the mother of two small boys, her current job titles include pirate captain, monster hunter, Lego assembler and story reader. She tackles all these efforts at her current home outside Washington D.C.
Find her at www.delanceystewart.com
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Mar 4, 2018 | Blog, March 2018, MK Meredith, The Extra Shot
Welcome to The Extra Shot, a weekly Sunday post featuring EXCLUSIVE content from Authors who have books releasing in the near future.
Books I Love A Latte is a book review blog focusing primarily on the romance genre, fiction, and women’s fiction. In addition, we periodically review products to keep you organized and more productive as writers and readers.
Stay connected with Rae Latte and Books I Love A Latte for Book Reviews, Excerpts, Teasers, Coffee With (Interviews), Giveaways, Authors Dish, Book Sales, and other Tasty Tidbits.
Today we’ve got an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from MK Meredith‘s upcoming release Honor on the Cape, a Cape Van Buren series. This romance series is full of characters that are sure to tug at your heart. A town rich with family traditions, secrets that test it’s residents, and a little spiced latte to make your book adventure full of excitement and surprises. I can’t wait to read MK’s next Cape Van Buren installment. Want to know when release day is? Be sure to follow MK across all social media platforms for the latest information. Enjoy & Happy Reading!
He rounded the end of the isle just as the woman in question stepped through a door labeled Eclectic Staff Only, her head was down and she worried her berry-colored lower lip with her teeth. He’d never get used to it, the sight of her was a swift punch to the gut. He remembered how those lips felt, how they tasted…
“I’m sorry we’re closed.” She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes going wide. “Jamie.” Her tone was breathless with surprise.
He’d never tire of hearing the Irish lilt in her voice when she called him by the nickname. He looked around with a nod. “I found myself outside and had to come take a look. You have something special here.”
“Yeah, I do.” She hesitated, studying him closely. “I worked hard for it, too.”
“Larkin told me you put yourself through school until you got your masters in business. That couldn’t have been easy.”
Pressing her lips together, she pulled in a breath, her nose flaring in the way he’d always loved. She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder and said, “Look, I have to get back to work. My stock doesn’t unload itself.” She nodded toward the front of the store. “You can let yourself out.”
He had two choices. The smart choice would be to do as she said and leave, but when it came to Blayne, his intelligence was in serious question and usually found just above his balls. Following her through the small hallway flanked with a small office on one side and a break room on the other, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her ass moved beneath her pencil skirt.
Her style drove him wild, and her current attire was no exception. He perused the line of her legs down to her high heels. “How the hell are you unloading boxes with six-inch heels holding you up?”
She spun around with a startled look on her face. “I said let yourself out, not in. What are you doing?”
“I’m helping.” He looked around at the stacked boxes and table full of merchandise. “I’ll unload and unpack, you inventory.”
“I don’t need your help, Jamie.”
“No, you don’t. But you’re going to get it.” He stepped beside her, noting how she stiffened with his nearness. He stiffened too, but in a completely different way. And to the point that he shifted from one foot to the other hoping his unwieldy body part would settle in a more comfortable position.
He pulled a delivery off a stack, then carried it to the table. Grabbing a box cutter, he flicked up the blade with a swipe of his thumb against the small textured lever. “Look, Blayne. I’m here. You might as well make use of me.” He heard it as soon as he said it.
And realized he meant it.
She ran her eyes from the tips of his shoes to his crotch–Please God, he cleared his throat–then on up to his chest, and finally his face. “What’s the American saying? Been there, done that?”
His bark of laughter echoed off the walls, and her painted lips quirked up at the corners.
With a sigh, she threw her hands up. “Fine. Unpack each box, carefully handing me one item at a time. This job is about accuracy and care, not speed. Got it?” One perfectly arched dark brow raised with her question.
Something settled in his chest. It meant something for her to give in, to let him stay. “Got it, boss.”
She scoffed. “Take that back to the conservation center and I’ll let you help me here any day.”
He sliced through the tape of one box. “In your dreams. We’re partners at the center, but I will give in to your demands here.”
“Give in to my demands?” Her question sounded anything but innocent. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Anything?” Her eyes dilated.
F#*k. Me.
“Completely.” His heart beat hard in his chest as she stepped closer. The heat of her made him want to reach out and pull her in until her breasts flattened against his chest. It was as though his breathing stopped with his heart as she leaned toward him.
So close, her silky hair, her porcelain skin. Those damn lips that left his d*^k begging and his mouth speechless.
Then just as quickly, she stepped back, her fingers gripping a silver paperweight in the shape of an inchworm. She slapped it into the palm of her other hand, and he winced. “Perfect.”
He narrowed his eyes at the victorious gleam in her own.
Two could play that game.
With a clap of his hands, he scanned the stacked boxes, taking a small measure of satisfaction when she jumped at the noise. “Well, Blayne MacCaffrey, let’s get to work.”
Shrugging off his jacket, he kept his gaze on the table, purposefully avoiding her eyes. He grabbed the hem of his black, knit sweater and pulled it up and over his head.
“What are you doing?” A hint of panic raised the pitch of her voice.
With the self-control of a monk, he resisted the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth, and grabbed the first box. “Getting to work. I imagine you don’t want to be here all day, and I don’t want to get my shirt sweaty before having a chance to meet with Mayor Marth.” He shook his head. “It’s so weird to think of quiet, timid Sebastian as the Mayor.”
She waved her hand with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “First, get your shirt on and second, I’ve seen Sebastian Marth…there is nothing timid about that man.”
Her light green eyes stared off into space for a brief second, causing a swift, unreasonable, knot of jealousy to twist in his gut.
“The last time I saw him, he had two, fifty pound salt bags hoisted on each shoulder.” She followed up with a low whistle.
And the knot twisted tighter. It shouldn’t. He didn’t have the right to feel one way or another. He lost any claim to her the night he walked away. His head knew it, but damned if his heart did. He grabbed another box and moved it over to the table, followed by two more.
She picked up a large serving bowl made of glass and silver, studying it from every angle, seemingly unaware of the change in atmosphere. “Yep…not timid at all.” Placing the bowl to the side, she reached up on tip-toe to rearrange items on the top shelf labeled serving wear. “Like…at all.”
That’s it.
If anyone asked, he’d say the devil made him do it. And he’d do it again, too.
Without a sound, he stepped behind her, so close his chest brushed her back.
She sucked in a breath, but couldn’t move because she had two porcelain dishes perched on the edge of the shelf.
“Careful now. I’m just trying to help.” His voice was even but his blood raced through his veins at her nearness. Her scent wafted around his head, her heat warmed his skin, and the silky slide of her hair tickled his biceps as he reached around her to assist with the bowls.
“Jamie.” She stiffened. And he’d have sworn on his position at the conservation center she quit breathing.
“You’re about to lose two bowls that were balanced against the ones in your hands. Take it easy and let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” She shoved back slightly with her ass to force him to move but all she accomplished was pushing those round globes tight against his d*^k. And his vision went white.
Now he was the one who couldn’t breathe. God damn she felt so good.
As quickly as she pushed back, she pulled forward.
His hands wanted to grab her hips and pull her back so he could grind against her softness, and his heart wanted to pull her back to a time when she loved him. He blinked and swallowed hard, then adjusting the bowls by her hands, helped slide the other two back to safe ground.
As if his body hadn’t been on the verge of exploding, he stepped away and returned to his table.
Blayne didn’t move away from the shelf for a full minute. He’d counted, thankful for the time to get his body in check and his mind straight. Those kind of games were dangerous, but f*^k him if it didn’t feel good to play.
Finally, she quietly cleared her throat and reached for her clipboard, busying herself with her list of incoming stock.
He opened another box, slipped the box cutter blade safely beneath the protective edge, then set it on the table.
With a quick, easy grace, she grabbed the box cutter and unsheathed the blade.
“What the hell?” He looked from the blade to her eyes which glittered in a telling ominous manner.
He let out a soft chuckle. “Blayne, don’t be ridiculous.”
She raised the blade a little higher in its sheath.
“I was only trying to help.”
“Bulls&*t. You were trying to manipulate me. You were trying to muddy my head with your filled out muscles and smooth skin.”
His d^*k jumped.
“Come on. I was doing nothing of the sort.”
The hell he wasn’t.
And she knew it.
He raised his hands in front of him. “Seriously.”
“Get out.”
“Blayne, come on.”
She grabbed his shirt and threw it at his face. “Get. Out.”
There were times to advance, and there were times to retreat.
And there were times to run like hell from a mad woman with a blade.
Honor On The Cape by MK Meredith © 2018
Have you read Love on the Cape, the first Cape Van Buren book?
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Author Info: MK Meredith writes single title contemporary romance novels which promise an emotional ride on heated sheets. A member of several writing groups, she believes the best route to success is to never stop learning.
She’s had a lifelong love affair with peanut butter — the only two things coming close in the battle for her affections are gorgeous heels, and maybe Gerard Butler…or was it David Gandy? Who is she kidding? Her true loves are her husband and two children who have survived her SEA’s (spontaneous explosions of affection) and live to tell the tale.
MK’s been reading romance long before she should have and can’t think of anything better than to fill her life with the promise of happily-ever-afters. When people ask, “Why romance?” She replies, “There is nothing more exhilarating than to write about one of the most powerful entities on earth. Love can be the fall of kingdoms and move mountains, destroy lives and create new life, inspire the dark and summon the light. Love is a challenge, a hope, and a miracle all wrapped into one. Love is life. I write about life.”
The Meredith’s live in the D.C. area with their two large fur babies…until the next adventure calls.
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