Stripped From You by Marissa Carmel

Title: Striped From You (Prequel to Strip Me Bare)
Author: Marissa Carmel         
Genre: New Adult
Released Date: June 1st, 2014
Cover Design by: Cover Me, Darling

*Author Note- Stripped From You can be read as a stand-alone novel, but the author suggests reading Strip Me Bare first.


Blurb:
You know how it ends, now see how it all began… 
“It doesn’t matter how many women touch this body, only one woman has ever touched this soul.”
Ryan Pierce doesn’t come from much, doesn’t ask for much, and doesn’t expect much. And he’s come to accept that, until, Alana Remington. Alana is the girl who struck the match that lit his world on fire. She’s the girl who opened his eyes to more. Who made him believe that just because you have nothing, doesn’t mean you are nothing. And he loves her fiercely for it. But, just because you come together, doesn’t mean you stay together. One fateful decision rips Ryan and Alana apart and neither of them are ever the same again.
For five years he’s regretted that decision, but the deep seeded anger, shame and resentment has kept him from reaching out. And over those five years, a series of moments have spun Ryan’s world in a direction he never saw coming. A world ruled by endless nights, infinite women and the name Jack the Stripper. A world, unbeknownst to him, that may just let two severed hearts collide.
Marissa Carmel has been writing since a young age and although it has always been for personal enjoyment, she finally decided breakout and share her imagination with the world. She hopes that her universe is as fun and intriguing to her readers as it is to her. Marissa Carmel is originally from NJ but moved to Maryland several years ago, she enjoys reading, writing, and catching up on her ever growing DVR library. She is currently working on the sequel to iFeel, Gravitational Pull and the third and final installment of the Vis Vires trilogy, Constellation.
Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Marissa Carmel/e/B005OKFXXU/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1361243544&sr=8-2
Twitter: https://twitter.com/marissacarmel      Handle:  @marissacarmel


Playlist:
Hold on, We’re Going Home- Drake
The Other Side- Jason Derulo
Demons- Imagine Dragons
Dark Horse- Katy Perry
Say Something- A Great Big World
Summertime Sadness- Lana Del Rey
Royals- Lorde

“Do you trust me?”
“Of course not, I just met you.”
“Then how about giving me the benefit of the doubt?”
She raises an eyebrow at me, and before I give her a chance to respond I slam the shot then pull her face to mine. And as my mouth covers hers, heat rapidly spreads through my body. She’s momentarily stunned. Her body is rigid against me, but then she relaxes, parts her lips and lets the tart liquid slide into her mouth.
I can’t believe I just did that.

 

I can’t believe she just let me.
After she swallows, she lets her lips linger, sucking up the taste of the sweet shot, causing my nervous system to shift into hyper-drive. We break apart slowly, but I refuse to let go of the nape of her neck. She just stares up at me with these enthralling eyes I know I’ll never be able to resist.
“Do you always break the rules?” she asks.
“No, not usually, but you seem to make me want to do crazy things.”
“Was that crazy?”
“Let’s do it again and find out.”
I lick my lower lip, tasting the sweet remnants of her lip gloss before I drop another shot. I pause for just a beat before I lean down and press my mouth back to hers and let the alcohol flow between us. I flick my tongue against her teeth right before I pull away. I shouldn’t like this so much, but I do. I like the way she looks, the way she feels, the way she smells. There’s something about her, something ventilating; like she oxygenates the atmosphere.
I catch the cool beats to a song I recognize pumping though the air. “Do you want to dance?” I ask her.
“You can dance?”
“There’s only one thing I can do better.” I smirk.
Alana cocks her eye brow suggestively.
“Draw.” I fire back. “The only thing I can do better is draw. Dirty girl.” I tease as I grab her hand and lead her out to the dance floor knowing Mac will look after our drinks.
Once we find a comfortable spot, I start to move to the smooth rhythm, leaving a little room between us so it doesn’t feel like I’m forcing myself on her. Drake sings coolly about hot love and affection as we move in sync to the beat, our bodies brushing and grazing as the music plays on, then finally coming together in a comfortable unison. I wrap one hand around her waist as I roll my hips into hers, pressing our bodies as close as they can possibly get. Alana runs her hands up my chest and hooks her arms lightly around my neck keeping tempo with the music. She moves lithely against me, inducing my heart, thoughts, and pulse to race. Fuck, I’m drowning in want for this girl. I slide my hands up under her shirt and caress the smooth, soft skin of her lower back as she nuzzles her face into my neck, her warm breath skating across my collarbone, making me instantly hard.
Damn.
She lifts her head and meets my stare, which I know is filled with lust and unrepentantly wanton. She bites her lower lip, our bodies still jiving to the slow seductive music. In a brazen move, I slip my hand up the back of her bare thigh and cup her ass cheek under the hem of her short shorts. She gasps as I work my fingers against her, massaging the fleshy part of her bottom. I’m absolutely aching being this close to her, touching her, stroking her, grinding against her.
“Are you sure drawing is the only thing you can do better?” she pants in my ear.


  

Cover Reveal of Intercepting Love by LP Dover

Title: Intercepting Love
Author: LP Dover    
Genre: Adult Romantic Suspense
Reveal Host:
Lady Amber’s Tours
Blurb:
Both have what she wants … but only one has what she needs.
Working with professional athletes and helping them recover from their injuries has always been Kate Townsend’s dream, but after an accident left her scarred and heartbroken years ago she refuses to let what happened in her past happen again. Staying focused is the key, as well as not letting her feelings interfere with her job … no matter the circumstances. All of that is easier said than done when not only one, but two men crave her healing touch, igniting every single desire she’s denied herself for so long.Cooper Davis, NFL’s star quarterback and most eligible bachelor, packs up and leaves his home to move across the states to the East Coast after an injury results in the embarrassing trade to another team. Bitter from the pain, he deals with his problems through drugs and alcohol—almost ruining his football career—until he meets the one woman who makes him want to feel; the same woman who refuses to give up on him no matter how many times he screws up. He has to have her, and he’s not going to stop until he makes her his. Especially, now that someone else threatens to take her away.

Motocross champion and local bad boy Luke Collins never takes no for an answer. For the past four months he’s used his charms to get what he wants, and now he’s so close to getting the girl of his dreams … if she’ll give in just once. One time is all he needs, and he’s never been known to fail, but he’s also never had to fight for a woman’s affections. Only one man will win their way into Kate’s heart, but which one will intercept the other and take what they want? Which one will she choose?
USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her

husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.

Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can’t forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols.
Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written over nine novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
L.P. Dover is represented by Marisa Corvisiero of Corvisiero Literary Agency.
Links:

Reveiw of Hope’s Decree by Angela McPherson – A YA Paranormal Romance

Great review of Hope’s Decree ❤

Carol Kittie Reviews

Hope’s Decree Book one in the Fated Series
By Angela McPherson
Hope's Decree Cover2

Genres: Young Adult Paranormal Romance
Published: August 13, 2013
Untold Press http://www.untoldpress.com
ASIN: B00EJ1O05M
ISBN-10: 0615885144
ISBN-13: 978-0615885148
Price:
eBook: 3.99
Print: 12.99

This book was a gift from the author in return for a fair and honest review.

eBook Buy Links
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Hopes-Decree-The-Fated-ebook/dp/B00EJ1O05M
Amazon Smart Url:http://bookShow.me/B00EJ1O05M
Print Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Hopes-Decree-The-Fated-Volume/dp/0615885144
Createspace: https://www.createspace.com/4437872
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hopes-decree-angela-mcpherson/1116947757
Goodreads- book link: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17875378-hope-s-decree

Blurb:
When everything else is lost, there is always hope.

While most teens want an epic senior year, Trinity Whitebone hoped for a normal one. Being seventeen was hard enough. Having the emotions of everyone around you in your head made life more than a little difficult.

Until Blain Heros enrolled.

He screamed hot-god in jeans with just his walk. His intense stare warmed her skin like a thousand suns. Unfortunately, his interest in her seemed to…

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Magic and Murder Among the Dwarves by Erick Bundy

Magic & Murder Banner

Murder and Magic Among the Dwarves

A  Paranormal Mystery

by

Erik Bundy

Untold Press


Hosted with Lady Amber’s Tours

unnamedAmanda is used to living a life that is less than ordinary. Haunted nightly by her late husband, she is a psychic living next door to a colony of dwarves. Despite males normally taking on the task, the colony’s females ask her to find a lost baby for them, and then hire her to tell them who strangled their midwife with a diaper and cut out her gossiping tongue.

She’s thrilled at the honor, but Amanda must learn to tame her own unruly psychic power.  The shadowy side of her gift raises a demon that attacks her, stalks her, and slashes her hand.   When she feels something live wriggle in her wound, she knows no one can fight her battle for her.  She must face her demon alone.

The town’s sheriff asks Amanda to help him solve the disappearance of a missing teenage girl.  Her involvement in this case brings a predator into her life, an enemy who allies himself with her demon.  To make matters worse, the midwife’s murderer comes after her, too.  Amanda, though, has no intention of becoming anyone’s victim.

Death is no longer her worst possible fate.

1 Author Bio

Erik Bundy
Erik Bundy lives in the magical North  Carolina woods where chocolate is a semi-sweet vegetable, female chipmunks are called chipnuns, and mice claiming to be cousins move in for the winter then take the bath towels when they leave in spring.  The federal government pays him not to work in one of their offices.  He is a graduate of the Odyssey Fantasy Writing Workshop and a grand prize winner of the Sidney Lanier Poetry Competition.  He has published more than thirty stories and poems.

 

 

 

 

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[Webpage] [Twitter] [Goodreads]

1 Buy Links

Amazon ~ Createspace: ~ Goodreads

 

Book Trailer:
You tube link: http://youtu.be/UObdj_79Ssw

Embed code:

 

Excerpt:

Fate didn’t announce itself by rapping its hard-luck knuckles against my green cottage door. Nor did it bother to crawl in through my cranked-open bathroom window. So I gave it no more attention than I did the mountain air I breathed every day.

That was my downfall, my sin. Fate might forgive greed, gluttony, or even bloodlust, but it never ignores being ignored. It punished my neglect with death and a demon. It yoked guilt like a leprous shadow to my heels.

Fate’s wakeup call came to me one cool spring night after I had lived on Crying Woman Lane for about a year. I was in bed, just skirting along the edge of sleep, when a guttural, female voice called, “Amanda,” through my window screen.

My bedside clock, instead of displaying numbers, looked back at me with a luminous green eye. Startled, I watched it, waiting to see if this obvious sign would make its meaning known. The eye winked, and the clock became normal again with the numbers 11:02 brightly displayed. The numbers added up to four, the number of wholeness. It didn’t describe me at the moment.

Fully awake, I rose up on one elbow, tucked a tuft of hair behind my right ear, and listened. Beyond my open window, the tidal racket of katydids rose and fell with the shrill anguish of self-centered insects braying for sex. I stayed quiet, hoping the female would go away but knowing I shouldn’t let her leave. The sign indicated this meeting was important. On the other hand, my body felt raw and jangled with a restless need for sleep. She could come back.

A second time she called my name from the tangle of darkness and moonlight in the woods. At least it was not a ghost’s voice. It had breath in it. The throaty intonation, though, was not quite human, the vowels veined in iron, the consonants ancient and startling.

“Not tonight,” I yelled back.

“Now,” the female insisted.

I punched my pillow. My eyes felt dry as dust, gritty, and probably looked as though threaded with varicose veins. One consolation was that they paid in gold, and come flood or parching drought, I was going to make them pay me a bucketful of nuggets this time.

Peevish as a cat sprayed with a garden hose, I delayed getting up and wished mouth sores on the jolly, jowly realtor who had sold me this cottage a year before.

Handing me two sets of door keys, he had said, “There’s one other little thing you might want to know.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Most of your neighbors are a bit peculiar. They live in a colony and only come above ground after dark.”

I knew about dwarves, of course. Everybody did, but I hadn’t known my newly bought property bordered the treaty land of one of their colonies. The realtor had lied by saying nothing. He had conned me, a young widow, and deserved the ulcerated mouth I wished on him now.

When the realtor saw his late disclosure angered but didn’t alarm me, he threw his head back and yodeled laughter at a ceiling fan.

“They’re allergic to sunlight, see.” His eyes widened with mock delight. “It paralyzes them, turns them into granite statues.”

He held up an open hand. “Scout’s honor, petrifaction is their preferred method of suicide. It’s painless, see. It’s clean and saves their families the cost of a funeral pyre.”

He patted my arm as if to let me know I didn’t need to thank him for the favor of his settling me near these considerate suicides. Not amused, I flinched away from his presumptive familiarity. Sourwood was a valley village isolated by mountains, a place where everyone bumped into everyone else often. He and I would meet again.

“Don’t expect a Christmas card from me,” I told him and punched his forearm.

All the same, the realtor had been wrong, and I took childish satisfaction in that. Tall Tristan, he with the precious green eyes, and my closest human neighbor, had put the lie to that tale. The suicidal dwarves didn’t turn themselves into fossils to save their heirs the price of a funeral pyre. No, they did it for revenge.

They bequeathed a monumental problem to their daughters and sons. Where do you put Uncle Steen after he has become a statue of himself? The irascible Uncle Steens of the colony usually committed suicide because they felt unwanted and ignored. On their granite faces after death were the smirks of those who knew they now had their kinfolks’ full attention, even if only for long enough to find permanent storage for them.

So why would a female dwarf come calling on me? Did she want to use my psychic power, my oddsense, to find another killer? I had already solved two dwarf murders for Brialdur, the colony’s sheriff. He had been considerate enough, though, to come calling just after sunset while I was still awake.

A chesty cough for attention outside curtailed my reverie of resentment. I was not being neighborly. I glanced at the clock and saw only the time, no eye or other sign. Oh well, you couldn’t ignore a dwarf any more than you could the constant flush of a stuck toilet.

I slipped out of my canopied bed and slid into a fuzzy white robe that fit my body like a sock. The dwarf outside knew I had gotten out of bed. She could hear a spider tickle along its web toward a struggling fly.

I baby-stepped through my dark living-room so as not to stub my toes against furniture, wrenched open the cottage’s reluctant front door, and strutted outside onto the moonlit porch. There I knuckled my fists into my hips and stood balanced on both feet, my back straight, posed as if to wrestle any half-quart boogeyman that dared show up. I was a modern young woman, fearless and capable (with mace spray in my robe’s right pocket), and I didn’t care who knew it. Attitude was everything when dealing with dwarves.

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Cover Reveal of The Cursed (The Unearthly, #3) by Laura Thalassa

Laura Thalassa is such a kick ass author and I’m so super excited to read what happens next in her Unearthly series: The Cursed! I just can’t get enough of characters, Gabrielle and Andre (along with other supporting characters). If you haven’t read this series, you should check them out at the links listed below! 🙂  Anyway, on to this awesome cover real.

The Cursed (The Unearthly #3)

by

Laura Thalassa

IMG_3195

Buy Links

Amazon

Follow/Stalk Laura Links

Goodreads ~ Website ~ Twitter

Beautifully Wounded Cover & Title Reveal with Susan Griscom

Title: Beautifully Wounded
Author: Susan Griscom
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance/Suspense
“This was a wonderfully gripping story about rising above oppression, finding salvation, discovering beauty and joy in the little things, and the transformative properties of true love…” — Literal Addiction Book Club

After a not-so-wonderful young adulthood—shuffled from one foster home to another—Lena Benton had hoped marriage would be her ticket to happiness. Wedded a year after high school graduation, Lena was certain she’d found her knight. But when Troy Harington’s true colors surface shortly after their glorious day of elopement, things aren’t quite as rosy as Lena had envisioned. When an unforeseen event turns ugly, all she can do is … run!

But does she run far enough?

Jackson Beaumont prides himself on being a nature-loving, guitar-strumming carefree sort of guy, known for his eagerness to help injured animals find their way back into the wild. When Lena Benton walks into his bar, he’s once again swept off his feet with concern and desire to help the wounded. Will he risk having his heart torn apart again when the memory of the fawn he rescued as a child resurfaces?

18+ due to sexual content and mature subject matter.

This will be a two book series, but both books in The Beaumont Brothers can be read as a standalone.

I daydream often and sometimes my daydreams interrupt my daydreams. So I write to remember them. If I didn’t write, I think my mind would explode from an overload of fantasy and weirdness. To the annoyance of my friends and family, my characters sometimes become a part of my world. During my childhood, I would frequently get in trouble in school for daydreaming. Eventually, my vivid imagination paid off and I had the privilege of writing and co-directing my sixth-grade class play—a dreadful disaster, though not from my writing, of course, I must blame it on the acting.

I enjoy writing about characters living in small quaint towns and tend to lean toward the unusual and spooky.

My paranormal playing field delves into a different milieu, abandoning vampires and werewolves, but not discounting them. Someday I might like to write a novel about vamps and those furry creatures. But for now I like the bizarre mixed with romance. A strong hero or heroine confronted with extraordinary forces of nature, powers and capabilities gets my blood running hot.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the window shining right in Lena’s eyes, and making her squint from where she sat on the sofa. I got up and closed the drapes, which made the room dark, so I flipped the switch on the lamp beside me. I sat in the old easy chair that my uncle spent many nights in, blowing on his harmonica. Uncle Joe once played and sang in a band when he was my age, and from what I’d heard by the awesome sounds he’d produced just sitting in that chair, he was pretty good. He’d been my musical inspiration, and I thought of him as I strummed out a new tune on my guitar that had been floating around in my head for several days. The words were coming together, and as I jotted them down, rearranged the flow, their meaning hit me like a crate full of bricks. I was writing a song about Lena. Like the fawn I’d nursed back to health when I was a kid. A song about a broken spirit on its way to healing, I hoped.
Brodie had been right, of course. I had wanted Lena from the moment I first set eyes on her. I knew when I watched her walk in the bar she was beautiful, even with her black eye. She was a beautifully wounded and broken soul that I couldn’t turn my back on. I had been instantly drawn to her as her bruised, damaged body limped from the door to one of the stools at the bar.
Lena spent the days lounging on our sofa, and nights in the spare bedroom with the door locked. Though she never said anything about locking the door, I heard the click each night when she shut the door. I couldn’t blame her, not after what she’d gone through. I let Rufus stay with her at night to give her a sense of protection. Not that Rufus would or could protect her—he was just a lovable lump of pure unconditional love mostly. Well, at least he’d keep her feet warm while she slept, I mused. It’d been hell every night, knowing she was sleeping right in the next room. However wrong it was to want her, I couldn’t shake the feeling. I knew it would have to be her decision though. If there was ever going to be something between us, she would have to initiate it. I could wait. If she even wanted me.
Lena was healing and gaining her strength back. I figured she was still pretty sore, but she smiled a little more often. I’d gone out and purchased some more clothes for her. I bought three pairs of jeans and about seven tops. I also bought her a pair of running shoes and some workout clothes, as well as a baseball cap. I told her, once she was well enough, in addition to self-defense training she had to start going out with me on my daily run.
By the end of the first week, the swelling in her eye had subsided, and the black and blue hues surrounding it turned a greenish yellow tint. Though I didn’t know firsthand, she told me the bruising on her side also showed signs of healing and had turned to the same light color.
I heard Lena sigh from where she stretched out on the sofa, and I glanced up. She looked bored silly. I turned over the paper I’d been scribbling notes and lyrics on, and went to fetch my spare guitar. I handed the wooden six-string to her and sat beside her.
“Do you know this one?” I asked, strumming a tune.
“No, teach it to me.”
“Okay, listen.”
She listened then strummed, mimicking my fingers.
“You’re quick,” I said.
I played some more, and she copied each note immediately after me. I nodded. “That’s it. Let’s start at the beginning.” We strummed the tune as if we’d been playing together for years. When the song finished she laughed, the sound of her laughter filled the room with warmth. “That was fun,” I said.
I played a few notes of the song I’d been toying with, and she quickly picked up the tune and followed along. She was good. “What is that?” she asked. It’s really pretty.”
“Thanks. Just something I’ve been playing around with in my head.”
“Well, it’s beautiful. I hope you finish it.”
“Does it have any lyrics?”
“I’m working on them. Come on, let’s run through that other one again.”
We played a few more tunes that she knew until she stopped and grinned. “Oh, I’ve missed this. Troy smashed my guitar into pieces early on in our marriage. He came home one evening when I’d been working on a new song, trying to work out the kinks you know. Anyway, dinner was on the stove simmering.” She’d hardly touched the wine I poured for her, but picked it up and took a small sip, placing it back down before repositioning her fingers along the strings. “He’d come in complaining about something at work and wanted to know why his dinner wasn’t on the table. At that moment, I realized I should get up and see to it, and when I put my guitar down, he picked it up and smashed it against the wall. He said his dinner should have been my first priority when he came home. He expected me to be attending to him, not sitting around playing with toys, so he smashed my guitar. He said next time it would be my face.”
I cupped her chin in my palm. She must have felt self-conscience at the gesture and flinched.
“Sorry.” I lowered my hand.
She looked down at the guitar and gently splayed her fingers across the frets. Picking up the glass of wine with her other, she took a quick sip then frowned. “I think I need some water.” She leaned the guitar against the side of the sofa and stood.
I stood as well and tenderly took her arm at the elbow, stopping her from leaving. She turned and looked up at me, bewilderment evident in her eyes. She was close to me, our chests nearly touching. “I’m sorry he treated you so badly,” I whispered—my lips just a couple of inches from hers.
Apprehensive, I searched her blue eyes, looking for a clue, a hint as to what she might be feeling. How would she react to my touch? The last thing I wanted was to stir up memories of unwanted dirty sex.