Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Kimberly Kincaid's Reckless Blog Tour (+Giveaway)


Enter to Win a 
Print Copy of RECKLESS


RECKLESS
Rescue Squad #1
Kimberly Kincaid
Releasing on January 26, 2016
Zebra


Someone’s Bound To Get Burned…

Zoe Westin may be a fire captain’s daughter, but feeding the people in her hometown of Fairview is her number one priority. Running a soup kitchen is also the perfect way to prove to her dad that helping people doesn’t always mean risking life and limb. But when she's saddled with a gorgeous firefighter doing community service after yet another daredevil stunt, the kitchen has never been so hot.

Alex Donovan thrives on adrenaline, and stirring a pot of soup doesn’t exactly qualify. He’s not an expert at following the rules either, not even when they come from the stubborn, sexy daughter of the man who's not only his boss, but his mentor. Determined to show Zoe that not every risk ends in catastrophe, Alex challenges her both in the kitchen and out. One reckless step leads to another, but will falling for each other be a risk worth taking, or will it just get them burned?

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Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet. When she's not sitting crosslegged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber,” she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to ├ęclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a 2011 RWA Golden Heart® finalist who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. She resides in northern Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters.


Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Rebecca Zanetti's Mercury Rising Blog Tour (+Giveaway)


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Print Copy of MERCURY STRIKING


MERCURY STRIKING
The Scorpius Syndrome #1
Rebecca Zanetti
Releasing on January 26, 2016
Zebra


With nothing but rumors to lead her, Lynne Harmony has trekked across a nightmare landscape to find one man—a mysterious, damaged legend who protects the weak and leads the strong. He’s more than muscle and firepower—and in post-plague L.A., he’s her only hope. As the one woman who could cure the disease, Lynne is the single most volatile—and vulnerable—creature in this new and ruthless world. But face to face with Jax Mercury…

Danger has never looked quite so delicious…

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What had she done? Lynne had actually fallen asleep on Jax Mercury. She awoke, blinking inside the stifling hood, just as he lifted her into the cool morning air and easily strode over uneven ground. A slight change of temperature hit her, and his steps leveled out.
            Inside. They were inside somewhere. The smell of dust and burned tomato soup tickled her nose, but no sound provided a clue as to their whereabouts. All but blinded, she tried to tune in to her other senses. Jax’s boots clomped heavily across a hard surface, and his heart beat steadily against her shoulder.
            His stride didn’t hitch as he climbed stairs, turned, walked in a too-quiet area, and opened a door. The world tilted, and he placed her, gently actually, on what felt like a fake leather sofa.
            He yanked the hood off.
            Light from halogen lamps assaulted her wide pupils, and she winced, her eyes tearing. “You’re an ass.”
            Silver flashed, and he cut the zip ties. “So it has been said.”
            Heat climbed into her face. The man had carried her easily and didn’t seem winded a bit. Even so, the legends whispered around campfires and refugee camps across the country had to be exaggerated. Nobody was that tough. “We need to talk,” she gritted out.
            He yanked a kitchen chair toward her, turned it, and straddled it. Now, in the light, she was struck by how young he really was. Maybe mid-thirties, black hair, dark brown eyes, and rugged facial features. Handsome in a pissed-off kind of way. A scar cut under the left side of his jaw, white and deadly. “So, talk.”
            She swallowed and tugged her backpack to her chest, glancing around what appeared to be a small apartment. A kitchenette took up one wall, an unmade bed the other, with dented furniture in between. Sofa, metal coffee table, woodlaminate kitchen table, paint peeling pink kids’ dresser, and mismatched kitchen chairs. Maps covered the table, spread out haphazardly. “Where am I?”
            “You don’t get to know that.” He rested his arms on the top of the chair, muscles flexing.
            She bit her lip. Men’s clothing littered the unmade bed, and the smell of musk and male filled the atmosphere. “Whose place am I in?”
            “Mine.” He lifted a shoulder, his gaze unwavering. “And yours now, I guess.”
            She pushed back into the torn pleather. “I’m not, I mean, I—”
            One dark eyebrow rose. “You’re here because I’m keeping an eye on you and making sure you don’t infect anybody else.”
            “I won’t infect anybody else,” she said slowly, her nails digging into the couch until the pads of her fingertips protested. “We don’t really know the truth about that statement, now do we? You’re the ultimate carrier of the most dangerous plague to ever attack mankind.” He lowered his chin, the movement somehow menacing. “You’re also here so I can make sure you’re not ready to check out.”
            She rolled her eyes. “If I’d wanted to kill myself, I wouldn’t have traveled this far to do it.”
            “Fair enough.”
            She glanced at the unmade bed. Too many women had become victims as the world had disintegrated; the strong overcame the weak. She wasn’t weak, and she was no man’s plaything. “I’m not here for your amusement.”
            “I’m not amused.” He leaned toward her, and her breath caught in her throat. “Let me be perfectly clear. I don’t force myself on women, and neither do any of my men. Any people here, and anyone we come across, remain safe from personal attack. Rape is a crime dealt with by death, so you have no need to fear.”
            She’d heard that in the rumors and tales, but she hadn’t known it to be true. “Women don’t earn their keep, earn their protection, with sex here?” Wherever here was.
            “No.”
            “You were in an inner-city L.A. gang. Years ago.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Rape was against the rules?”
His face blanked. “No, but I’ve never forced a woman.” Those dark eyes narrowed. “My past is my own. You sure know a lot about me.”
            Not really. He’d become a folk legend fighting in L.A. before the news had shut down. Since then she’d been trying to gather facts, but there were still blanks. “Why did you leave the gang? I’ve never heard why you entered the army.”
            He rubbed his chin. “Judge gave me a choice. Prison or military. I guess he saw something in me.”
            She let her shoulders relax. “I wondered.”
            “Yeah.” Jax eyed her shirt just at her neck. “Can I see again?”
            Well, she couldn’t really blame him. She set aside the pack holding her father’s precious journal. Her fingers remained steady this time as she unbuttoned the blouse and drew open the sides.
            Jax’s nostrils flared, while a tension, one she barely remembered as sexual, overtook the atmosphere. “Does it hurt?”
            “The blueness?” She glanced down, her lungs suddenly
too tight  “No. I don’t feel anything.”
            He reached out and gently took her wrist, shoving the sleeve up to reveal the track marks on her elbow. “This must hurt.”
            His touch stirred awareness deep in her abdomen, and surprise paused her at the feeling. When was the last time she’d felt desire? Or even warmth from another’s touch? She glanced down at the scars caused by drawing so much blood. So many times, and outside of normal medical procedures after a while. “Yes. That hurts.”
            “I knew a junkie once with an arm like this.” Jax shook his head and unrolled her sleeve. “The irrationality of a thing is not an argument against its existence, rather, a condition of it,” he murmured, securing the buttons at her wrist. She frowned as the familiar words rolled around her head. “Einstein?”
            “Nietzsche.” Jax lifted an eyebrow. “Rumor has it you’re carrying an advanced form of Scorpius. True or false?” “False rumor to isolate me.” She tried to keep her tired eyes open.
            Jax gestured toward her pack. “I get the food and water you have, but what’s in the journal?”
            She sighed. “Sorry, but there’s nothing about Scorpius. My dad was a physicist and a philosopher. He wrote a lot down.”
            Jax blinked. “That’s quite the combination.”
            “Yes.” The words on paper were all she had left of her parents.
            Jax studied her and then looked toward the gas lamp on the counter. “We have lanterns left, but not for long unless we get more fuel. So keep an eye on the lamp but extinguish it if you go to sleep.”
            “I understand.” The guy was quoting Nietzsche? What kind of an ex-gang member turned army special ops turned leader of a vigilante group knew philosophy? She shook her head. Time to negotiate. “I’m here for a reason.” “I’m sure.” He eyed her blue heart again. “You can cover up.”
            She fumbled in refastening her shirt. “I’ll teach you everything I know about the illness, and you provide temporary protection and one kill.” The mere idea she was contracting a murder banished the desire humming inside her and replaced the heat with a lump of cold rock.
            A veil fell over Jax’s eyes. “What makes you think we don’t know everything you do about the illness?”
            She shrugged, wondering if he knew what kind of information he might have stored away just from his ransacking labs. “The Internet went down fast, much faster than anyone would’ve thought, and the news and television thereafter. No way do you know what I know.”
            He watched her patiently, as if waiting to strike. “The Internet went down because of a guy named Spiral.”
            She blinked. Wow. So Jax Mercury had some seriously good intel. “True. He was infected with the illness and then reacted by creating a world-class computer virus. Figured if bodies died, so should technology, since it got us in this fix in the first place.” Her instincts hummed. Underestimating Mercury would be a colossal mistake. Suddenly, and for the first time in way too long, hope struggled to unfurl within her. “I still know more about the illness than you do.”
            “Probably.” He studied her for a few moments longer before cocking his head to the side. “What else?”
            She cleared her throat. “I assume you’ve scavenged the area you control?”
            His chin lifted. “So?”
            She swallowed, her body stilling. “Did you scavenge the emergency CDC outpost on the southeast side of L.A.?” Her blood pumped so fast she could feel a vein in her neck bulging.
            “Yes. Why?” he asked softly.
            The softness contained a deadly intent that rippled a shiver down her spine. Her fingers fidgeted. “They had the most recent research, and combined with mine, we might have hope.” They also had intel on where Myriad, the ultrasecret lab, might be located.
            He studied her. “We raided the CDC outpost and took all medical supplies and paper records. Our limited medical personnel went through the files looking for cures, but I have to be honest, none of them are researchers with your background.”
Lynne leaned forward. “I’m happy to go through all the information and decipher it for you.” Oh God. Maybe the risk of heading into Mercury’s territory would actually pay off . . . if she could find Myriad. “Could I look through the data?”
            He leaned back and studied her. “Sure. Are you telling me there may be a cure?” 


USA Today Bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing examiner - only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha males and the women who claim them. She writes contemporary romances, dark paranormal romances, and romantic suspense novels.

Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband, children, and extended family who inspire her every day—or at the very least give her plenty of characters to write about.


Thursday, January 21, 2016

My American Duchess by Eloisa James Blog Tour (+Giveaway)


Enter to Win a 
$25.00 eGift Card to Choice Book Seller


MY AMERICAN DUCHESS
Eloisa James
Releasing on January 26, 2016
Avon Books


The arrogant Duke of Trent intends to marry a well-bred Englishwoman. The last woman he would ever consider marrying is the adventuresome Merry Pelford— an American heiress who has infamously jilted two fianc├ęs.

But after one provocative encounter with the captivating Merry, Trent desires her more than any woman he has ever met. He is determined to have her as his wife, no matter what it takes. And Trent is a man who always gets what he wants.

The problem is, Merry is already betrothed, and the former runaway bride has vowed to make it all the way to the altar. As honor clashes with irresistible passion, Trent realizes the stakes are higher than anyone could have imagined. In his battle to save Merry and win her heart, one thing becomes clear:

All is fair in love and war.



“What a lovely evening,” she continued. “The only thing better would be if your father was with us, but I’m certain that he and your sainted mother are watching over you. Likely he was the one who put the idea for this visit to England in my mind!”
Merry nodded, though she was less certain about her father’s approval. Mr. Pelford had been a patriot to his core, and had been elected to represent Massachusetts in the Constitutional Congress, after all.
He had made his own way in the world, taking the profits from a successful patent for a weaving machine and speculating in real estate, then standing for the House of Representatives. In fact, if he hadn’t succumbed to a heart ailment, Merry thought her father could have ended up President of the United States.
Her aunt’s thoughts must have followed hers, because she added, “Though now I think on it, your father might have disliked the idea. More likely, ’twas your mother. I know she loved the land of her birth.”
Merry brushed a kiss on her aunt’s rosy cheek. “My father wouldn’t have a single complaint. You and Uncle Thaddeus have been the best possible guardians.”
“Such a sweet child you were, from the very day you came to us,” Bess said, her eyes turning misty. “You make up for the lack of my own children tenfold. I can scarcely believe that my niece will be an English lady.”
Merry still couldn’t quite imagine it herself.
“Lord Almighty, this room is overheated!” Her aunt started fanning herself so energetically that the feathers on her headdress billowed like a ship’s sails. “I feel as hot as a black pudding.”
“Why don’t we go onto the balcony?” Merry suggested. Its doors stood open in a fruitless attempt to cool the room.
“If it’s stopped raining,” Bess said dubiously. Once in the cool night air, she quickly recovered. “I find your Cedric dazzling,” she exclaimed, snapping her fan shut. “A title is all very well, my dear, but I think it’s better to judge a husband on his own merits—on the plain naked man, if you take my meaning.”
“Aunt Bess!” Merry tugged her from the open doorway. “You must watch your tongue. English gentlewomen aspire to modesty.”
It hardly need be said that Bess didn’t share their aspirations. “That ballroom is full of women pretending that never to have gawked at a man’s wishbone,” she pointed out, “whereas in reality they walk around the room like butchers’ wives at a fish market.”
“English women have very refined manners,” Merry objected.
“So they’d like to think. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, m’dear. Look at the fashions here. I appreciate those silk pantaloons as much as the next woman.”
Merry rolled her eyes. “Aunt Bess!”
“You’re betrothed again, so I can speak my mind,” Bess replied, unperturbed. “Mind you, speaking of pantaloons, your Cedric is certainly a well-timbered fellow.” She gave a throaty chuckle. “That reminds me—I promised to dance this quadrille with your uncle. He’s as clumsy as a June bug, but he does enjoy a nice gallop around the room. Come along, dear.”
“If you don’t mind, Aunt, I’d rather stay here for a few minutes.”
Her aunt gave her a squeeze. “How I love that smile of yours! Your Cedric is a perfect lady’s playfellow. Come your wedding night, the two of you will be as merry as crickets in a fireplace.”
With that, her aunt reentered the ballroom, feathers and fan flapping.

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A New York Times bestselling author, Eloisa James is a professor of English literature who lives with her family in New York, but who can sometimes be found in Paris or Italy. (Her husband is a honest to goodness Italian knight!) Eloisa’s website offers short stories, extra chapters, and even a guide to shopping in Florence. Visit her at www.eloisajames.com.