Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Return To Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia + Giveaway


Beckett Taylor is a murderer. His calling, his craft are destruction and intimidation—whether he wants it that way now or not. He left Poughkeepsie to keep his brothers safe, to keep Eve safe. Set up with happy lives to live, they’re better off without him, right?

But all his willpower crumbles when he hears his brother Blake’s frantic voice on the phone. An unknown enemy has moved in on his old territory, and Livia’s been taken. In an instant, Beckett knows it will take an attack only he and Eve can execute to bring her back. All his self-imposed embargoes are torn to shreds, perhaps along with the new man he’s struggled to become.

“Brother, call Eve. I’ll be there soon.” 
In this emotional and action-packed sequel to Poughkeepsie, Debra Anastasia conjures a tale of love at its most raw and ragged. With Beckett and Eve, how could we expect anything less? But even when it’s messy, not magical, true love perseveres. Real love finds a way—for better or for worse until death does part.


Social Media Links:
YouTube Trailer


About the Author:

Debra Anastasia is busy, just like every other mom. There's dinner, the dogs, the two kids, the two kids, and her ongoing battle with...ahem... digestive issues, which combined with her adolescent boy sense of humor makes for colorful and sometimes cringe-worthy social media updates. Her first love and crowning achievement is her thriving career as the weirdest mom on the block.
https://ci3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/8CBWEZYl_gju-O0mEKjDNw0Eh_qIbYUu1oZBKfZqOypmLO1gU9NfBBUnKK5HrwoN-VKG8iQn_PvQpZDlbxq0IwVL9dQOy_HcGJ0=s0-d-e1-ft#https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/images/cleardot.gifHer writing started a decent handful of years ago when--along with the animals and humans in her house--the voices of characters started whispering stories in Debra's ear. Insomnia was the gateway to plots that wouldn't give up, wouldn't let go. Now they stalk her everywhere. Halfway through making lunches, a twist takes hold and--fingers full of peanut butter--she finds somewhere, anywhere to write it down.
She's eternally grateful to Omnific Publishing, which has now published four of her books: two in the Seraphim Series and two in the Poughkeepsie Brotherhood Series, as well as her novella, Late Night with Andres. That one is special because 100% of the proceeds go to breast cancer research. (So go get it right now, please!) She also very much appreciates her open-minded readers, who embrace everything she has to offer, with a focus on anti-heroes and bathroom humor.
Debra lives in Maryland with her family. You can find her at DebraAnastasia.com and on Twitter @Debra_Anastasia. But be prepared.




Giveaway


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Book Excerpt - Love Me Not by Reese Ryan




Title: Love Me Not

Author: Reese Ryan

Release date: December 30th, 2013

Genre:  Contemporary Romance

Tour: Irresistible Reads Book Tours


Book Description:

Abandoned by a mother who chose drugs over her, Jamie Charles barely got out of her own addiction alive. Now, she pours her pain into her art while pouring drinks at a local bar. To Jamie, love is a four-letter word—until she meets Miles, a charming ad exec with piercing blue eyes who makes no secret about his desire for her.

Miles Copeland has family demons of his own, but his unhappy upbringing drove him toward hard work and success. He's determined to win Jamie over, and when he finally does, it's worth every moment he spent waiting. But when he confesses that he's falling for her, she panics. Sex is one thing, but love requires more than she can give.

Jamie can't deny her feelings, but she's haunted by her past. Miles knows his heart, but Jamie's lingering doubts have him questioning their future. It might take the threat of losing him forever for her to realize that refusing to let love in is the worst mistake of all.




Book Excerpt

Rough night, huh?”
Jamie looked at the man who’d taken a seat at the bar. He wasn’t one of the usuals. She’d never seen him before. But he was the type. Tahlia’s wasn’t a dive bar, like the ones she’d worked at in the past. It was an upscale bar and grille that catered to affluent tastemakers. In fact, the only reason they’d given her a shot, with her jet-black hair, penchant for black leather, tattooed arms and nose piercing was because Tahlia Vega was a friend of a friend of Ellie’s. She’d landed the job because she was good.
The man flashing his brilliant white teeth at her definitely fit the bill. Ridiculously gorgeous—like every line of his face had been precisely chiseled from stone by Michelangelo himself. A nose befitting a Greek god. A faint moustache was perched above his upper lip and a barely there beard crawled its way along a jawline with just enough of a pleasing curve to prevent it from being described as square. His hair—a sandy brown just a shade or two shy of venturing into blondiewood—was slicked down on the sides, with the top longer in a fairly conservative faux hawk. But those eyes…they were the color of pristine Caribbean waters. So blue they made a girl want to get naked and go for a swim in them. He was wearing a navy linen blazer with a crisp white shirt beneath it. The large face of the stainless steel TAG Heuer on his wrist nearly matched the color of those eyes.
Rich, gorgeous and probably spoiled. The only thing missing was the rail-thin model-type hanging on his arm. He was definitely the Tahlia’s type. He just wasn’t hers.
“Everything’s great,” she said to him. “I was just thinking about…I was making sure we had enough lemons, that’s all. Can I get you something?”
“You take your citrus inventory very seriously, I see.” An animated smile spread across his handsome face, and his eyes flickered with amusement as they followed her movement. “Well, I for one appreciate your dedication.”
She bit her lip and wiped the counter with a rag. If she’d still been working at Chuck’s Biker Bar, she’d have told this guy to go fuck himself. But at Tahlia’s, the customers were far more delicate. They didn’t appreciate being cursed out by the help. “If I can get you anything, let me know.” She turned to walk away.
“Wait. Actually, I would like something. I’d love a Satan’s Whiskers. It’s—”
“One ounce gin, one ounce orange juice, half an ounce of dry vermouth, sweet vermouth and Grand Marnier, a dash of bitters and a twist of orange peel. Or would you prefer it curled rather than straight?” Teeth clenched, she pressed her lips into a hard smile. Maybe she didn’t look like the dainty little bartenders he was used to, but she knew her shit.
“I apologize.” He ran his hands through his spiked crown, giving his hair a tousled, just-tumbled-out-of-bed-and-I-wasn’t-alone look. “I didn’t mean to imply that—”
“Forget it. Anything else?”
“You guys serve food, too, right?”
“Absolutely, would you care for a table? I can—”
“Actually, I’d like to eat right here at the bar, if that’s okay—” he leaned in closer and squinted at her name tag, “—Jamie. I think I’d prefer your company to eating alone.”
Don’t do me any favors, buddy. She surveyed the man, struck by how his blue eyes danced when he smiled at her. Her knees wobbled slightly. She was glad he couldn’t see them.
“If that’s what you’d like.” She reached behind her and handed him a bar menu. “Just let me know when you’re ready. Would you like your drink now or with your meal?”
“With my meal, please. Until then, how about a glass of water? I’ll take it with one of those lemons.” His devilish smile widened.
Was he making fun of her, or just trying to piss her off? If it was the latter, it was working. “Coming right up.” She forced the words through a smile so fake it’d give Barbie a run for her money. She grabbed a glass, dumped in a scoop of ice, filled it with water then put a lemon on the side. “Here you go. Just call me when you’re ready.”
“Sure thing.” He pulled out his phone. “But I’ll need your number first.”
The overwhelming desire to punch the dude in the face subsided the moment she saw that big, stupid grin. He was a harmless flirt. She could deal with that, no problem. “Ha-ha.” Her face remained expressionless as she tucked the rag into her apron.
He laughed. “Okay, that was pretty corny. I apologize. I’m usually far more clever than this, but today…I got nothing.”
“Rough day, huh?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“Touché. And yes, it has been a challenging day.” Lifting his chin slightly, he stroked his beard, regarding her with amusement. “But things are beginning to look up.”
Leaning against the bar, she shifted her weight as she surveyed his expensive haircut and clothing. She’d bet anything he was wearing a pair of overpriced loafers the kind of guys she preferred had never even heard of, and that he drove an “entitlement” car. If she talked to him for a few more minutes she’d be able to determine whether he drove a Beamer, Benz or Bentley and could make a reasonably accurate guess as to the color.
The guy might be goofy and slightly aggravating, but he had the potential to be a good tipper. No matter how irritated she was, she knew better than to fuck that up. Jamie took a deep breath and gave him a dead-eyed smile that skirted civility without encouraging further interaction. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you tell me about it,” she said. “After all, isn’t that why you came here?”
“Hmm…I’ll bet you get that all the time. Rich bozos sitting here whining about their wives, mistresses and tennis elbow.”
She choked back the laugh rising in her chest before it could escape her lips. Covering her mouth, she cleared her throat and managed a straight face. “My customers are not bozos.”
“How politically correct of you to say so.” He tapped the bar lightly with his index finger. “But I have an idea. How about we turn the tables tonight? Tonight, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
This guy was really beginning to bug her. Since when did a complete stranger give a damn about what was bothering her? Where was this guy from anyway, Mayberry?
A regular came in and sat at the bar. She was glad for the distraction. “I’ll be right with you, Pete,” she told him before turning back to the man who’d managed to get under her skin. “Excuse me—”
“Miles.”
“I’m sorry…?”
“You called him Pete, right? Well, I’m Miles. Miles Copeland. It’s nice to meet you.”
She cleared her throat, her jaw tight. “I’ll be back to check on your order in a few…Miles.”


About the Author:
Reese Ryan writes sexy, contemporary romance featuring a multicultural cast of flawed, but lovable characters. She secretly enjoys torturing her heroines with family and career drama, reformed bad boys, revealed secrets, and the occasional identity crisis, but always rewards them with supportive girlfriends and a happily ever after.
 
An avid reader, Reese's to-be-read stack resembles a small skyscraper. She adores brilliant singer/songwriters, and has an incurable addiction to musicals and movie soundtracks. She is a lifelong Midwesterner currently residing in Central North Carolina with her husband and young adult son who tolerate her propensity to sing and dance badly.

Official Website: www.ReeseRyan.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReeseRyanWrites


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