Friday, February 28, 2014



Char and Riley have encountered pain and heartache in the past. They were sure that they would never meet someone that would heal their hearts and allow them to love again. Then, on an ordinary Sunday, a newspaper in a minimart changes their lives forever.

Although they share a strong physical connection, they ultimately hunger for one another’s emotional touch.

No matter how hard they’ve tried to stay away from each other, the magnetic force between them has always remained strong.

Char and Riley have been through it all; love and loss, trust and deceit. They are the glue that holds their Boston family together and the ones that would be lost without the love and support of their family and friends.

Today is the day we’ve all waited for—the magical moment when two lives become one.

Riley Paul Kincaid & Charlotte Jayde Taylor

Request the pleasure of your company
to celebrate their wedding.

On Friday February 14, 2014
St. Elizabeth’s Church
Boston, Massachusetts

Author t. h. snyder

Evening Invitation

** 5 STARS**

This book was just as I'd expect it to be (and more!). Another beautifully written story by T.H. Snyder! The story literally reminded me of my own wedding day. 

I love reading stories by this Author. Every book I've read by her is so beautifully written with a real story to it. And she writes characters that you know or wish you knew. It is amazing when the Author does such a great job introducing and making me fall in love with the characters in their books that I find myself caring about and feeling happy, sad or angry at a character, and not every book has been able to do that for me. 

I loved every book in this series. I loved being able to start from the very beginning when Char and Riley first met to them now on their wedding day.


When I first met the love of my life, things may have started off a bit rocky, but he’s shown me what true love is. I now know what it feels like to be cherished and what my life will look like having my happily ever after. Together we’ve had some struggles—what couple doesn’t go through highs and lows—but I wouldn’t want to have experienced any of it without him by my side.

He is the most amazing man. My best friend, my one true love, and my soul mate. I can’t wait to see him later today and wrap my arms around him. Last night was one of the few nights we’ve spent apart since the accident. At times he still treats me like I’m broken, but I know he does it because he wants to keep me safe. Riley is everything to me, and today we get to make it official in front of our friends and family.

The Touch Series
All Currently $.99

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           AMAZON                     AMAZON                     AMAZON                                                                                                                                                                               
About the Author

t. h. snyder (1979) was born in Allentown, Pennsylvania. For six years she worked in the field of higher education while earning her Bachelor and Master Degrees in Management from University of Phoenix. She's a single mother to two children. She became an avid reader in spring of 2012 and since has read over 250 books. Her genre of interest ranges from Romance to thrilling Paranormal. This is more than just a hobby for her, it's a passion to read the words of great authors and bring life to their stories with her reviews and character castings. She started writing her first novel in June of 2013 and is anxious to see where this journey takes her!!

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She expected to start Harkness College as a varsity ice hockey player. But a serious accident means that Corey Callahan will start school in a wheelchair instead.

Across the hall, in the other handicapped-accessible dorm room, lives the too-delicious-to-be real Adam Hartley, another would-be hockey star with his leg broken in two places. He’s way out of Corey’s league.

Also, he’s taken.

Nevertheless, an unlikely alliance blooms between Corey and Hartley in the “gimp ghetto” of McHerrin Hall. Over tequila, perilously balanced dining hall trays, and video games, the two cope with disappointments that nobody else can quite understand.

They’re just friends, of course, until one night when things fall apart. Or fall together. All Corey knows is that she’s falling. Hard.
But will Hartley set aside his trophy girl to love someone as broken as Corey? If he won’t, she will need to find the courage to make a life for herself at Harkness — one which does not revolve around the sport she can no longer play, or the brown-eyed boy who’s afraid to love her back.

Warm, funny, and often heartbreaking, The Year We Fell Down is New Adult contemporary romance. Contains: hot hockey players, too many pairs of crutches, gallows humor, Princess Bride references, and a slightly outrageous vibrator scene. (Sexual situations make the book suitable for ages 18+.)

The expected publication date is Monday, March 17th, 2014, on all of your favorite e-book websites.


Sarina Bowen writes contemporary romance and new adult fiction from the Green Mountains of Vermont. She lives with her husband, two children, eight chickens and an unwieldy pile of ski and hockey equipment.


We are so excited to be sharing this beautiful cover with you for J. Sterling's new standalone book SEEING STARS scheduled for release on March 13th!
Seeing Stars
SynopsisWalker Rhodes is a hot singing sensation who never settles down, spends too much money gambling and gets in trouble on the daily- at least if you believe all the tabloids. Madison Myers is a hard working talent agent assistant thrust into the spotlight one day after Walker pulls her on stage during one of his concerts. She tries to stay away from him, but he keeps chasing her. She is strong in her resolve and he is relentless in his pursuit. The question is... WHY?!?! Tabloid Headline Reads: Walker Rhodes pulls woman on stage during LA concert and serenades her with stars in his eyes and we watched as the sparks flew! But just who is this mystery woman who has stolen Walker's heart? And will she be the one to finally tie down our favorite womanizing gambler? Our readers poll: 80% say no way! The other 20% wish they were her! Read more inside... Excerpt
Walker sat on one of the stage steps, his chin in his hand as he spoke to the screaming crowd. “I need a volunteer for this next part.” His head raised slowly, his eyes scanning the crowd. Keri jumped up and down like a crazy person, waving her arms and screaming his name. I laughed at her antics and sat perfectly still, not wanting to bring any more unwanted attention to myself. Another tap on my shoulder caused my irritation to bubble as I turned to what was sure to be that annoying overly made-up stupid girl again. It wasn’t. I came face-to-face with a giant of a man wearing all black and holding a walkie-talkie. Intimidated, I took a half step back and looked around for Keri. “Come with me.” His tone implied a demand, not a request, and I suddenly wondered what I’d done wrong. Who the hell was this guy? He’s not the boss of me. He’s not going to tell me to come with him and think I’ll just obey. I frowned and said quickly, “Uh. No, thanks.” He flashed his VIP backstage pass in my face as if it were the only credential he needed. “Miss. It’s part of the show. Can you come with me, please? You’ll be onstage with Mr. Rhodes.” Oh. Well, shit. I guess he could be the boss of me, after all. I shot Keri a surprised look before I was quickly hauled off in the direction of an almost completely darkened backstage area. We walked through a black curtain before we were hit with lights and blaring music. “I’m going to bring you onstage.” “And then what?” I asked, suddenly nervous. Not to be around Walker Rhodes, but nervous at the thought of standing in front of thousands of screaming people with cell phones ready to record my every move. I started to tremble. Afraid my legs wouldn’t hold me up any longer, I begged the security guy to help me out there. He smiled at me and gave me a little shove. Thanks, you dick. Next thing I knew, I was standing onstage, my face mere inches from Walker’s. Walker no-human-being-should-be-anywhere-near-this-gorgeous-in-real-life Rhodes.
AboutTheAuthorJ SterlingI got fired from my last job. It's true. I know you're sitting there thinking, "Jenn, how could anyone in their right mind fire someone as amazing and awesome as you are???" And i'd love to give you a good reason, but the truth is... being This! Awesome! is clearly very scary to other less awesome people. :) So I said screw them and started writing my first book. And you know what I realized? Writing books that mean something to me is a million times better than working my ass off for someone who doesn't really care about anything other than the bottom line. My soul feels more satisfied. My heart, more full. So thank you for reading, loving and recommending the stories I write. I think you're awesome- and not only am I not scared of other awesome people, I want them on my team! Click HERE to read a post where I talk about how you all have changed my life. :)

*Please note that SEEING STARS will also be available at the following retailers - Smashwords, Kobo, IBooks, B&N - no pre-order available at time of cover reveal.*


We are pleased to be able to share an excerpt from Ruthie Knox's ABOUT LAST NIGHT! ABOUT LAST NIGHT is a contemporary romance, published by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House. ABOUT LAST NIGHT is on sale for $.99 right now for a limited time only, so grab it now!

  About Last Night

ABOUT LAST NIGHT Synopsis: Sure, opposites attract, but in this sexy, smart, eBook original romance from RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox, they positively combust! When a buttoned-up banker falls for a bad girl, "about last night" is just the beginning.

CathTalarico knows a mistake when she makes it, and God knows she's made her share. So many, in fact, that this Chicago girl knows London is her last, best shot at starting over. But bad habits are hard to break, and soon Cath finds herself back where she has vowed never to go . . . in the bed of a man who is all kinds of wrong: too rich, too classy, too uptight for a free-spirited troublemaker like her. Nev Chamberlain feels trapped and miserable in his family's banking empire. But beneath his pinstripes is an artist and bohemian struggling to break free and lose control. Mary Catherine--even her name turns him on--with her tattoos, her secrets, and her gamine, sex-starved body, unleashes all kinds of fantasies. When blue blood mixes with bad blood, can a couple that is definitely wrong for each other ever be perfectly right? And with a little luck and a lot of love, can they make last night last a lifetime?

Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: Because of You, Ride with Me, and Midnight Hour.
  • A 2013 finalist for the RITA award in contemporary single-title romance from Romance Writers of America
  • A 2012 Reviewers' Choice Best Book Award nominee in the "Contemporary Love and Laughter" category, Romantic Times magazine
  • A Library Journal Best Ebook Romance of 2012
  • A Reviewers Choice Award 2012 Pick, All About Romance
  • A Best Contemporary Romance 2012 nominee at The Romance Reviews
  • A 2013 DABWAHA nominee
About Last Night EB Banner


 Cath leaned against a table strewn with crumpled tubes of paint and jars full of brushes, pressing her damp palms against the surface and willing her heart to stop pounding.
You’re not really attracted to City. You’re just looking for your clothes, and then you’re going home. A blip, remember? This is a blip.

 Dimly, she realized he’d spoken. “Sorry, what?”

His lips twitched, and the dimple made another appearance. “I only said ‘Good morning.’ Are you all right?”

She’d been on the money predicting he’d have a posh accent, anyway. Maybe she could blame the hangover for her reaction to the smile. She needed to eat something. Or get laid. It had been a while. Could you still say that when it had been two years? It had been a while.

“That depends,” she said.


“On what I did last night.”

 He pursed his perfect lips, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “You don’t remember?”

 “Not much.” She drew her index finger along the surface of his worktable, as if checking for dust. 

“Do you remember refusing to tell me your name or where you live?”

 “We talked?” Funny, she couldn’t resurrect any memories of speaking to him. Only his hand, warm and solid, guiding her. Only the way he’d made her feel. The way he was still making her feel, come to think of it. She was bare-legged in this strange man’s apartment, asking him to reveal the details of what she’d done while drunk last night. The situation ought to have been intimidating. She ought to have been queasy with remorse. She wasn’t, and she could only conclude the reason was City. He projected calm.

 “You kept calling me ‘City,’” he said.

 Cath nodded. “Yep. That’s what I call you.”

 He gave her a wry smile, and she held on tight to the edge of the table. Maybe calm didn’t quite cover it. Not when he smiled, anyway.

 “That’s precisely what you said last night.”

 His voice wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It was low and warm and soothing, and it took the edge right off his fancy accent.

 “Did I say why I wouldn’t tell you my name?”

 The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate.

 “You told me you were sad and quite tired, but you didn’t require my help, and all you needed to set yourself to rights was a cup of coffee and something to eat.”

 “So how did I—”

 He raised one finger to prevent her interruption, his eyes twinkling with amusement. She’d never noticed how unusual his eyes were before. They were green over brown, both exotic and warm. 

“Then,” he continued, “when I tried to introduce myself properly, you covered my mouth with your hand and insisted we remain strangers, because you could tell I was a very nice man”—he pronounced the word nice as if it were a razor blade he was carefully spitting out—“and I’d be far better off not knowing you.”

 Cath was impressed. Her drunk self had more sense than she’d given her credit for.
 “That’s true,” she offered. “I’m not really your type.”

 He cocked an eyebrow but let the comment slide.

 “Since I’m here, I guess that means you took a pass on the opportunity to hop the next train and leave me to my own devices?”

 “It was nearly midnight,” he said, defensive. “All the shops were closed, there were no cabs to be found, you wouldn’t tell me where you lived or let me see you home, and you could barely stand up. So yes, bringing you here seemed like the right thing to do.”

 A thought distracted her from the question she’d been forming.
“What were you doing at Canary Wharf at midnight on a Friday?”

 “Trolling for prostitutes.”

 He delivered the line in such a dry, remote tone, it took her a second to get that he was joking, but when she did, she couldn’t prevent herself from teasing, “You must have been so disappointed with the selection.”
She glanced down at her small, decidedly unvoluptuous body in the oversized shirt.

 “I wouldn’t say that, love.”

 The dimple appeared again. She lost a few seconds gazing at his mouth, and then she came to and let her eyes slide down his torso to alight on his hand, which still held a paintbrush. She hadn’t expected the smile. Or the paintbrush. She definitely hadn’t expected him to flirt with her.

 “I’d been to see a film,” he explained.

“I passed out,” she replied, attempting to steer the conversation back toward the safer ground of her humiliation so that she could get the details she needed and scurry home.

 “I suppose you did. You were terribly tired. I made a pot of tea, and by the time I’d finished you were asleep at my kitchen table. I tried to rouse you, but you said, ‘Leave me alone,’ and then something that sounded very much like, ‘Don’t murder me.’”

He reported all this matter-of-factly, as if drunk women passed out on his kitchen table every Friday night. Which, for all you know, they do.
 “Nice of you not to.”

 “I seem to have convinced you I’m a nice man.”

Cath nodded her agreement, though he didn’t look all that nice at the moment. The gleam in those green-brown eyes was positively rakish. She hadn’t thought City had a speck of rakishness in him. 

“Sorry about the stripping part,” she mumbled, partly because she was sorry but mostly because she wondered what he’d say. The smile he gave her made her toes curl, it was so wicked.

“You do remember,” he said in that low rumble.

 “You were very, uh, gentlemanly about that.”

 “You were very intoxicated.” He turned away to set the paintbrush down on the tray at the base of his easel.

 “Yeah.” She stared at her toes until they uncurled. This was her cue to ask what he’d done with her clothes.

She would have, only City asked, “How are you feeling?” and so she had to keep talking to him. She tried to mind it but failed. The man was proving to be an enjoyable conversationalist, and he was remarkably easy on the eyes.

 “I’m fine, thanks. I have a little headache, but the shower helped. And the toothbrush.”

 “Glad to hear it. Would you like breakfast? I fried up some bacon.” The mention of bacon made her stomach rumble. “That sounds like a yes.”

 “I do have a weakness for the bacon-sandwich hangover cure,” she admitted. “But it seems a little lowbrow for you, City. I can’t imagine you drunk, much less hungover.”

 He took a few steps closer and studied her, an unabashed appraisal that should have been rude or even scary but instead sent syrupy heat creeping through her abdomen.

 “Considering you don’t know my name, you seem to have a lot of ideas about me.”

 Oh, she had ideas. She had a whole slew of new ideas about him, and she needed to find an exit strategy quick, because none of them was on the list of things she was supposed to be thinking about. Banker, she reminded herself. He’s a banker, a very boring banker. Enough already. Just, whatever you do, don’t flirt with him.
 “I don’t need to know your name. I’ve seen you around, and I know your type.” Aaaand she was flirting with him. It won her a smirk.

“What’s my type, then?”

 “For starters, you come from money. You went to expensive boarding schools, graduated from either Oxford or Cambridge, and now you work at a bank in the City—thus the name.”

 He frowned and wiped his hand over his mouth. What a mouth.

 “Just let me know when I get something wrong,” she offered.

 “By all means, carry on. You’re doing a brilliant job so far.” 

“Which was it, Oxford or Cambridge?”

 “Cambridge. Trinity College.”

 She resisted the urge to gloat. Gloating was well outside the range of acceptable responses to City on this particular morning. So is flirting with him. Right. But it was so much fun. She hadn’t flirted in ages.
 “Let’s see,” she said. “I know you like to jog. Judging by those shoulders and arms, I’d say you also row, yeah?”

 “Some. I play rugby, too.” He gave her half a smile, and she made an effort to suppress the image of City in a rugby jersey with pink cheeks and dirty knees, tussling over a ball. A human orgasm. Her good sense was now officially yelling Mayday! She was now officially ignoring it.

 “What do I do for fun, then?” He stepped even closer. This flirtation had turned into a two-way party. She needed to find a method of steering the conversation back toward bacon sandwiches and, say, the location of her skirt, because it probably wasn’t good that she could smell him now, and on this man linseed oil was an aphrodisiac.

 “Well, you go to the symphony, spend weekends in the countryside, and date women who wear twinsets and have names like—”

 Without the least bit of warning, he kissed her. Not a preamble sort of kiss, either. No, he really kissed her, one huge hand cupping the back of her neck, and his warm, firm lips knew exactly what they were doing, which was driving every single thought from her head. Only the man remained, the mouth, the sensations coursing through her, heating her up from the inside. Heating her up fast. Could all bankers kiss like this? Cath rose on her toes, angling her mouth and pressing closer, but he pulled back a few inches. Then a few feet. She wanted to say something. The only word that came out of her mouth was a shaky

“Whoa.” She tried again. “What was that, City?”

 “You tell me, Yank.” His lips curved into that sexy smirk again.

 “I’m pretty sure you just kissed me.”

 “Yes, I did. Shall I apologize?”

 “What for?”

 “It was terribly impolite. I didn’t ask your permission.” Cath leaned back against the table, crossed her arms over the tight peaks of her nipples, and tried not to smile like a girl who’d just been kissed silly. She failed. She was failing a lot around this guy. It ought to have been worrisome, or at least embarrassing, but his lips had liquefied her brain. First kiss in two years would do that, she supposed.

“I was much more impolite than you. What with the passing out and all. You’re being very nice about it.”

 City scrubbed his hand over his jawline, pensive now. “I would appreciate it,” he said after a moment, “if you would stop calling me ‘nice.’”

 He took a step closer, and her heart rate spiked. “You are nice.”

Her voice came out all weak and wavery. This was how Little Red Riding Hood had felt when she’d discovered the Big Bad Wolf wearing Grandma’s bonnet.

 “No,” he replied. “I’m not.”

 Another step, and his eyes traced a path over her arms, down her stomach to her hips. The brightly lit art studio made her purple underwear visible through the white T-shirt. She could tell that City noticed, and that he was enjoying the view. She sat down on the edge of the table.

“You brought me here with impure motives?” The idea gave her a stupid thrill.

 He shook his head.
“No. I developed them after you arrived.” 

Cath fingered the hem of the shirt where it hit her mid-thigh.
 “You shouldn’t admit to that sort of thing. It’s perverted to lust after half-naked drunk girls.”

 “Not perverted.” He stepped closer until his thighs brushed her knees. “Only male. And at any rate, you didn’t get me lusting with the strip show. Though it was . . . fetching.”

 “No?” It was a wonder she could speak at all, considering there was a tall, hard, hot man crowding her and using up all the oxygen. “What irresistibly attractive thing did I do, then?”

 One more step, and he was between her legs.
“You talked. Rather a lot.”

 “About what?”

 “All sorts of nonsense. You’re not very fond of my country, I gather.”

 Cath shrugged, sheepish. “Sometimes I miss Chicago.”

 “I’d never heard you talk before. You ought to do it more. It’s charming.”

 “People who talk to themselves at the train station are generally understood to be crazy. Especially in your country.”

 “You could talk to me.”

 “I hardly know you.”

 “I’m superb,” he said. “You’re going to like me.”

 Big, warm hands covered her bare thighs, and she shivered.

“Though I should probably reiterate, I’m not at all nice.”

 “I am,” she whispered. “I’m a very good person. Not the kind of girl who gets drunk and has to be rescued from train stations.”

 “I know.”
 He moved his hands up a few inches to the crease where her thighs met her hips.

 “Or who makes out with strange men on tables. I’m a thoroughly respectable woman.”

 “You don’t kiss like one.” He smiled that shark smile again.
 New Cath had a death grip on the tattered vestiges of her willpower, but she’d lost control over her body. Her palms smoothed over the muscles of his forearms, and her butt scooted her closer to the edge of the table by an inch or two. Or four. At least her mouth still worked.

 “I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.”

 “Don’t reform. I like you bad.”

 “I don’t want to be bad.” But her arms had reached up and twined around his neck, and she had to murmur the last part against his lips.

 “I do,” he said, and took over.

  Available for purchase at these and other retailers: Amazon Barnes and Noble

  .99 now

  Author Photo

ABOUT RUTHIE KNOX: USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox writes contemporary romance that’s sexy, witty, and angsty—sometimes all three at once. After training to be a British historian, she became an academic editor instead. Then she got really deeply into knitting, as one does, followed by motherhood and romance novel writing. Her debut novel, Ride with Me, is probably the only existing cross-country bicycling love story. She followed it up with About Last Night, a London-set romance whose hero has the unlikely name of Neville, and then Room at the Inn, a Christmas novella—both of which were finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award. Her four-book series about the Clark family of Camelot, Ohio, has won accolades for its fresh, funny portrayal of small-town Midwestern life. Ruthie moonlights as a mother, Tweets incessantly, and bakes a mean focaccia. She’d love to hear from you, so visit her website at and drop her a line.   LINKS: Website: Facebook: Twitter:!/ruthieknox ABOUT LAST NIGHT Goodreads: Ruthie KnoxGoodreads:

✯Cover Reveal for By The Fates, Fought by Patricia D.Eddy✯


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Title: By the Fates, Fought
Author: Patricia D. Eddy
Genre: Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Audience: 18+
Formats: eBook
Publisher: Patricia D. Eddy
Cover By: Ravven
Editor: Clare C. Marshall
Pages: 400 pages estimated.
Date to be published: 18 March, 2014


Spring in Gralvein brings Ealasaid peace. Six months to the day Raven found her shackled and tortured in the devil's lair, their public handfasting is the happiest day of her life. But a storm is coming. Devils join King Eideard's Guarda and watch Ealasaid constantly. Faolan's spies report Lobhdain is plotting. What is this mystical artifact he searches for?
When the devils attack and one of their allies disappears, Raven and Ealasaid fear they will never be safe. Can they manage a daring rescue? Or will Ealasaid lose everything she holds dear?
By the Fates, Fought is the second novel in the By the Fates trilogy. It contains several disturbing scenes, including brief descriptions of rape and torture and is meant for mature audiences. It ends on a cliffhanger. By the Fates, Fulfilled will be released in Fall of 2014.
clip_image006Patricia D. Eddy has been a writer all of her life. She used to sit at her parents' kitchen counter at an Apple IIe typing out short stories. She even wrote a few on their old typewriter. But it wasn't until NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in 2011 that she ever came close to finishing a story she started.
Once that dam broke, the flood waters never receded. Patricia sits down to write every evening after dinner and quite often sees midnight come and go before she heads to bed. She doesn't sleep much. But she wouldn't have it any other way.
In her spare (HA!) time she runs, bikes, swims, yogas, pilates-es, reads, and is terribly addicted to Doctor Who and Sherlock. Apparently she has a thing for quirky British men.

✯Cover Reveal of 'The Billionaire & The Barfly' by Adrianne James✯

Releases on March 29

Henry Maximus is a super-hero-loving geek and proud of it. He’s also a genius when it comes to business. It’s how he earned the title of CEO of Maximus Gaming … not to mention the billions of dollars in his bank account. Henry’s tried living the life of a bachelor, but a different girl every night has left him wanting more. Needing more.
Aubrey Vincent is in love with her job. She’ll love it even more if she lands the promotion that gets her out of her parent’s attic. She loves it so much that she has no time for relationships, not that she was ever very good at them to begin with. Aubrey is perfectly happy with the random, nameless men she picks up at the bar.
After a brief encounter with Aubrey on a business trip, Henry packs his bags and moves back to the small town where he grew up. Aubrey’s town. Aubrey attempts to find her way into Henry’s bed, while he tries everything to get into her heart. Will Henry’s plan to break down the walls Aubrey has built around her heart work or will his unbelievable million dollar offer scare her away?


*Enter to win a I Heart New Adult Bag and Mug!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About Adrianne James

Growing up, Adrianne couldn’t get her hands on enough books to satisfy her need for the make believe. If she finished a novel and didn’t have a new one ready and waiting for her, she began to create her own tales of magic and wonder. Now, as an adult, books still make up majority of her free time, and now her tales get written down to be shared with the world.
During the day, Adrianne uses her camera to capture life’s stories for clients of all ages and at night, after her two children are tucked in bed; she devotes herself to her written work. Adrianne is living the life she always wanted, surrounded by art and beauty, the written word and a loving family.
As a young adult and new adult author, Adrianne James has plans to bring stories of growing characters, a little romance, and perhaps a little magic and mythology down the line for her readers to enjoy.

* Giveaway is for US only

✯Cover Reveal✯ 'Beware' by Shanora Williams

beware front cover  
Ace is bad.
Very bad.
After losing my brother, I know I should stay away. So why can’t I?
He’s irresistible. He’s confident. He’s amazing… but he’s dangerous.
He was there the night my brother was killed. He watched it all go down.
I should stay away. The things I saw weren’t acceptable. They’re not even legal.
I should want Ace as far away from me as possible—I should consider him a monster and a threat to my life—but something keeps drawing me back. Something keeps bringing me to him. Something is making me… weak for him.
He’s warned me many times to stay away. He’s even threatened me. But I know, just as much as he does, that I won’t stay away. I won’t until I get answers.
But there’s one thing wrong with getting too many answers. It leads to lies. It leads to trouble. It leads to danger. But worst of all, it leads to me falling deeply and madly in love with him.
I’ve gotta be out of my mind.
Beware Teaser 2
Footsteps start up the complex stairs. They’re heavy. Slow. I try to control my breathing but it’s hard. The room that was once my sanctuary – my get away—now feels like a trap. A prison. I can hardly breathe.
Sealing my eyes, I listen as his footsteps get closer to my door until finally he stops. It’s quiet for a moment. I think he’s got his ear to the door, wondering what I’m doing.
Then he bangs on the door and I gasp. I don’t get up, though. He can’t get in. The door is locked and the chain is on. I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to kick the door in, knowing I have neighbors. Good thing they’re nosey. They’ll come looking for the noise immediately.
“London, I know you’re in there! Car’s in the parking lot.” His voice is no longer calm and casual. It’s angry and demanding. “Open the door.”
I don’t say anything, but I do stand and hold the knife in front of me just in case. I slowly walk out of my bedroom and towards the living room.
“Open it or I’ll kick it down. I don’t give a fuck who sees me.”
I gulp and gasp at the same time, which causes me to burp. And it’s pretty loud. Loud enough for Ace to hear.
Instantly, the door swings open and hits the wall with a loud thud. I scream as I fall on my side. When I look up, Ace is standing between the frames of his door, adjusting his tie. All I can make out is his shadow, but I can feel his eyes hard on me.
Stepping inside, he shuts the door behind him coolly. I scramble away with the knife in my hand. When I get to my feet, I dash for my bedroom and grab the telephone. He chases after me, warning me not to do anything stupid.
I dial 9, but I’m not given the chance to finish. He snatches the phone out of my hand and slams it down. I spin around, bringing the butcher knife in front of me again.
Ace takes a quick step back, glaring down at the knife. Then, a slow smirk forms on his lips. The lips I hated I admired once.
“I’ll cut you,” I threaten.
“You won’t,” he says boldly.
“I won’t?” I hiss, bringing the edge of the knife to his neck. “Don’t test me. I will.”
He raises his hands in the air, shaking his head. “When’s the last time you sharpened this bad boy, huh? Three years ago? It’s as dull as fucking a nun in bed.”
“I don’t give a shit! I can still cut you with it! Just… sit down!” I demand, circling him, knife still clutched in my hands and at his neck. “On the bed.”
He frowns. “No.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you, but if I have to I will!” I shout, voice wavering.
“That’s the thing… you won’t.” His tone is even.
I keep my tears back and my emotions behind me for now. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I don’t want him to get away either. But deep inside I know I won’t hurt him. I won’t cut him. I’m too afraid to shed blood after seeing so much already.
With a bored sigh, Ace snatches the knife out of my hand and tosses it out of my bedroom. It skids across the hard wood floors, causing a clanking noise that makes my ears ring. I gasp, and start to run after it, but he grabs my arm tight and shoves me against the nearest wall. It’s not a hard shove. Nor does it hurt. But I’m still afraid.
As I tremble, he brings one of his large hands up and locks my face between his fingers. His eyes stare deeply into mine, his nostrils flared. From the slit of light filtering in through my window, he looks pissed. I know he’s going to kill me. I’m a witness.
“Listen to me,” he grumbles. His warm breath spills down my chest, across my cleavage. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I spit.
“I won’t. I’m not the one that killed Jonah. They did.”
Hearing Jonah’s name causes fiery tears to build in my eyes. “It’s your fault. I know it. Why wouldn’t they kill you, too? What were you doing there anyway? Why was Jonah there? Why did they kill him?” All of this is spilling out of me. I’m outraged. I’m pissed that Ace is still alive and my brother isn’t. I’m terrified. I’m… I’m a mess.
“Listen to me!” he demands, releasing my face to lock his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know why they killed Jonah, all right? I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. But you have to understand… it’s what we do. It’s what Jonah signed up for. It’s business, and we can’t help when shit gets bloody.”
I process his words, give them some thought. “So… you’re the one that got him into that shit? What is it? What’d you promise him? I know Jonah, and I know he wouldn’t do something this bad without something in exchange.”
“I didn’t promise him shit.” Ace runs one hand through his slick hair. “He knew what he was in for. He was money-hungry, just like everyone else. He saw a way to achieve it and he went for it. It was a mistake… him coming to Atlanta.”
“How is that a mistake?” I demand. “I invited him. I graduated!”
Ace tilts his chin to meet my eyes. His are dark, and if I’m not mistaken, watery. I’m not given the chance to figure it out completely because he blinks and just like that, he’s angry again. “Don’t go to the cops. It’ll only get you killed.”
And with that, he releases me and walks out of my bedroom. I follow after him, grabbing his arm before he can get out the front door. “Killed by who? You?” I’m keeping my voice steady, but deep inside I’m scared out of my fucking mind.

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New York Times & USA Today Best Selling author Shanora Williams considers herself one of the wondrous, down-to-earth authors who's all about romance and the paranormal... but of course she always makes room for the many other genres out there. She's a huge lover of Starbucks and a big kid when it comes to Haribo Gummy Bears. If she could swim in Coca-Cola she would. She's a very avid reader and a fan of many others independent authors.
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