Thursday, October 27, 2016

Blog Tour: The Long Ball By Aria Cole

The star player with a troubled past…
Cash Greenwood escaped a difficult past by becoming a star baseball player. Now, one of the major league’s rare double threats, all his effort is thrown into the sport. He's never had any interest in women, until he meets the one woman who wants nothing to do with him.

The daughter of baseball royalty…
Delilah Gray’s life revolves around numbers, research, and data. She has no time for anything messy like emotions or relationships. Especially not when they come in the sexy guise of a baseball player. She's seen first-hand the devastation caused by dating a man obsessed with the sport, and that's one risk she's not willing to take.

She is one curveball he never saw coming…
But this is one pitch Cash is determined to hit out of the park. Sexual tensions run high and feelings start to develop, but will Delilah ever see that they could have a solid future together? Determined to make her his, she may just prove to be the hardest game of Cash’s life.

WARNING: The Long Ball features an obsessed jock with six-pack abs in tight pants determined to get his girl. If syrupy sweet romance and fiery passions appeal to you, then hold onto your panties because this one may just hit them out of the park.

Watch the trailer HERE


“Stop being a whiny bitch, Greenwood! Bottoms up!”
   My best friend and resident troublemaker of the team smacked me on the back. His boisterous laugh and booming voice took up all the space around him. I loved many things about the man, but the thing I loved the most was that in his presence, I became invisible. Since the age of 16 I’ve been recognizable. Once you were a star athlete with a future and the hope of winning a championship, you became a commodity, something shiny. And being simultaneously a slugger and a pitcher was a combination so rare that those with it, like myself, were priceless.  
   It hadn’t taken me long to learn that being invisible keeps you safe.  
   “We have to meet that analytics chick in an hour. I don’t want to reek of alcohol. Coach will kick our asses.” I didn’t like to drink. Most days I can’t even stomach the smell of it, but for the sake of keeping up appearances I usually nursed a glass in my hand and always offered to be the designated driver so no one suspected anything. Rod was really good about covering for me when needed, chugging back the drinks people often bought for me, acting like the cocky best friend he was.  
   “It’s still technically the off-season. Another one won’t hurt.”  
   “Another always hurts, particularly in the form of a hangover the next morning,” I replied.
   “You sound like a dodgy old fuck. Where’s the guy who used to party with me all night long? I want him back.”
   I chuckled, thinking about all the times we’d been in trouble. I prided myself on how well I blended into the crowd and let him take the attention. Rodriguez and I had been buddies since our rookie year. We’d grown up together on this team, cut our teeth on the ins and outs of playing professional ball, but as time passed I found that faking it seemed to exhaust me more and more each day. I was tired of it all, and the only thing that still made me feel something was the game. Everything else was endless noise that passed by with no true meaning or intention. I felt like I was walking in a blur, just waiting for time to pass.  
   “I’m not twenty-one anymore. Coach said any more stunts like that one you pulled at warm-ups and we’re both benched. And you, motherfucker, are not getting me benched.” The idea of sitting out a game was unbearable. Rod and I were thick as thieves, and Coach knew that if anyone could reel him in, it would be me. But what the coach didn’t know was that the idea of losing baseball in any way was like a noose around my neck, tightening until all the oxygen was ripped from me.
    “You're my wingman, buddy, and ya gotta admit, spiking the water cooler was pretty genius.”
    “And landed us in a shit load of trouble. Frankly, I’m just too old for this shit anymore. Let the rookies have at it. We had our fun.”
   “You make thirty sound like a death sentence. Not for me. When I turn the big 3-0 next year I’m going big. I want my feet in the sand with a drink in my hand and a pussy on each arm. Fuck it, a limo full of pussy. I am gonna get more ass that night than a toilet seat.”
   “Yeah, I bet you do.” I’d never liked how Rodriguez embraced the cliché ball player persona. He played ball hard—out on the field he was a beast. But he partied even harder, a revolving door of girls after every game. I was always up for a few drinks, but the groupies that surrounded Rodriguez always made my stomach turn. It was so obvious they wanted him for his status and money—his staggering salary was very appealing to bunt bunnies. I had absolutely zero interest in them.  
   All the women around ball players didn’t have much to offer, and my life was so messed up that I doubt any woman wanted anything to do with it when she found out. The only kind that would stay would be one that would hope for a staggering payday at the end. I had enough people standing by with their hand out, so I wasn’t interested in a woman who wanted that, too. Besides, I only had a few more years to play this game, and I wasn’t going to squander them for some chick. These women didn’t care about the men. They cared about the limos, the big ticket items the ball players paid for, and the thousand-dollar dinners. Rodriguez made hundreds of millions, just like so many of my buddies, and just like the other ball players, he had no issue living like a king. But that lifestyle didn’t interest me in the least.  
   This life wasn’t for everyone, I wasn’t even sure it was for me sometimes. I rarely liked to go out, and the women did nothing for me. I lived and breathed the game, so much so that I couldn’t imagine what else I would be doing if it wasn’t this. I had one single focus and that was to win the World Series. I had been playing ball for eleven years with the MLB, and that was the only thing that eluded me. I was known as the best player in the entire league and yet I didn’t have that World Series title under my belt. My years left playing ball were dwindling—a ball player was gettin’ some age by thirty—but it was the one dream I hadn’t yet attained.
   “Let’s head over, man. Don’t want to piss off Coach.”
   Rod slammed his shot glass down on the counter, his eyes shining with excitement. “Wanna place bets on how fast I can get up the analytic girl’s skirt?”     
   “You haven’t even seen her yet.” We walked out the doors of the corner bar, afternoon light heating my skin as we walked the short block to the stadium. Today we had a meeting with what would be the new official star analytics firm for the club, before opening day tomorrow. I’d been waiting months for this day, the time between playoffs and opening season always left a pit of dread in my stomach. If I could play twelve months of the year I would.  
   We pushed through the stadium doors and made our way down the dim hallway, headed for the conference room next to the locker room. I nodded at Coach when we walked in and greeted a few of the other guys as the entire team settled on benches around the center of the room.  
   “I don’t want to take up much of your time, so I’ll cut right to the chase.” Coach looked around the room. “A few of you have been fucking off, so we need focus if we’re going to have a good season. I don’t expect miracles, but I do expect you to listen. No more antics. Stay focused. I expect each of you to improve your averages by the end of the season. “
   “Like it or not, stats are down, guys. We need all heads in the game if we’re gonna improve and have a shot at going all the way this year. Delilah Grey from Lionsgate Analytics is here to help us do that.. She’ll be with us—every game, every day—all season. She’ll be sending me the stats throughout the game, and I want you guys tuned in to your averages. Push yourselves every night.”
   He glanced around the room, pausing for a moment on Rod. “And please treat Delilah with respect. She knows we need some help, but she doesn't need to know you’re all a bunch of animals.” God, I loved Coach. So steady and calm. He was the reason this team was great. Without him we’d all be a bunch of animals on the field.  
   Coach swung open the locker room door and in walked a fucking vision.  I noticed the heels first. Sexy stilettos with leather cutouts that made me want to get down on my knees and slip them off her feet one at a time. My eyes devoured her creamy, toned calves, and not even the conservative pencil skirt could hide the full curves of her hips.  
    Rod said under his breath.
    I nudged him, for the first time in my life irritated by his overt appreciation of a woman. Looking at Delilah, the hairs on my arms stood to attention. As did something else. Damn, she was stunning, I’d never seen a woman so radiant in my entire life. She had dark silky hair cascading down her back in loose curls, so damn soft-looking that my hand itched to brush up against them. I, Cash Greenwood, for the first time in my life had a desire to brush up against a woman’s hair.
   “Hey guys, I’m Delilah Grey.” She nodded, her spine rigid as she leafed through a handful of papers in her arms. “If you could pass these around, I’ll tell you a little about me, then we can chat individually.”
   “Individually?” Rod chimed, his horny grin sending anger racing through my stomach.  
   “Yes, that’s how I prefer to work. Deal with each player’s specific issues before we bring the whole team together.”
   “I’ve only got one issue.” Rod shifted in his seat, his hand brushing over his crotch. My nostrils flared. Why was he such a dick?. At that moment I hated my best friend so much I wanted to pound his face into the ground. The thought made me feel ashamed and idiotic. I knew Rod, he was a joker, more talk than action on most days, but the fact that he was being crass to this woman upset me beyond all reason. I didn’t have an explanation, but I did not enjoy the idea of Rod looking at her like she was a piece of meat. Not one bit.  
   Delilah’s deep chocolate eyes narrowed in a flare of anger for a moment before she turned back to her paperwork. If one paid close attention to her, as I was doing, one could see the patch of red forming on the back of her neck. “I started Lionsgate Analytics nearly three years ago. I want you to be the best players, on and off the field, and excelling in this world isn’t just about home runs and fly balls. It’s also about measuring speed, distance, velocity.” Her eyes flicked over the team again. “I’ll be hanging out at all the games, laptop open and watching just how consistent everyone is, and hopefully it won’t take us long to get an average. Anyone have questions for me?”
   “Yeah, got plans tonight, sweetheart?” That was Rod, and I nearly shoved my fist in his gut for that one. I watched as Delilah’s jaw ticked. She was tough, I could tell. I liked that. I liked that she wouldn’t take anything sitting down. I had had enough of women taking things sitting down, so the fighter in me was drawn to the fire in her.
   “Let me make one other thing clear: if anyone calls me sweetheart, toots, doll, baby, or any other demeaning term of endearment again, I can’t promise you won’t feel my high heel in your balls. I don’t play well with men who act like animals. We’re here for one thing and one thing only—to get this team in shape to win this year. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make an ass out of yourself in the process. Have I made myself clear?”
   Fire blazed through my veins when she spun and exited the very door she’d come from. Well damn, after thirty years I finally found a woman who could make me take notice, make me want to chase. And not only chase, but tie her up and hold her against me, bind her to me in every way possible.

Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she's writing next!

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Blog Tour: Preppy by T.M. Frazier



The Bow Tie is Back!
PREPPY by T.M. Frazier is LIVE!

preppy cover.jpg

Samuel Clearwater, A.K.A Preppy, likes bowties, pancakes, suspenders, good friends, good times, good drugs, and a good f*ck.

He’s worked his way out from beneath a hellish childhood and is living the life he’s always imagined for himself. When he meets a girl, a junkie on the verge of ending it all, he’s torn between his feelings for her and the crippling fear that she could be the one to end the life he loves.

Andrea ‘Dre’ Capulet is strung out and tired.

Tired of living for her next fix. Tired of doing things that make her stomach turn. Tired of looking in the mirror at the reflection of the person she’s become. Just when she decides to end it all, she meets a man who will change the course of both their lives forever.

And their deaths.

For most people, death is the end of their story.
For Preppy and Dre, death was only the beginning.

This is the fifth book in the King Series and it's meant to be read after Soulless.

Where to even begin with this book? I’ll admit right off the bat after reading Soulless, I questioned where I was even going to read this book because I was just floored at the re-emergence of my favorite character of the entire book series. His life was cut way too short and to discover he had survived left me absolutely questioning everything. It seemed implausible that he could have survived and knowing he lived rocked me to my core. Just when I had just finishing mourning him, there he is in his bow-tied splendor. Fast forward a few months later, and I begin to get that itch. You all know what I am talking about. The itch to know what happens in the next book of a series that you promised you’d swear off to spare your emotions. You can possibly ascertain since I am writing a review for Preppy Part 1 that I caved to my emotional preservation wall that I had built. That decision to put aside my emotions and read it was one of the best literary decisions I could have ever made. Preppy breathed life back into this series. While King and Pup hooked me into this world, I lost a bit of my soul with Bear’s story. With every book I was reminded that my favorite character wouldn’t be there until this one. I had the chance to get him back and I took it. Frazier took a bring risk with the fans of this series by bringing him back from the dead, but the risk was so well executing that I honestly couldn’t find a single thing that I didn’t like about this book. Preppy is witty, sharp tongued, dirty AF, and a survivor. His back story is tragic and for some, may be a bit too squeamish. His relationships with the grannies are heartwarming and in this story, we are given a glimpse of what it was like while King was in jail. Dre’s burst onto the fictional playing field was dramatic, but necessary. Frazier not only gives us a glimpse into Preppy’s head, but into Dre’s, who has a laundry list of deeds she needs to redeem herself for. She’s not exactly innocent, but she’s far from an angel. Just like Preppy. They each have their demons and reservations about the attraction they feel for each other. In true Frazier fashion, the last line of the book will leave you utterly speechless. To say that I loved this book is like the biggest Cubs super fan not even clapping with their team making it into the World Series after 70 years. This book is a game changer and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

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“No! I hate you,” she spat, as I continued to tug her beside me.
“Good, you can hate me while I fuck you,” I said. “But first things first. My lesson obviously didn’t take in that brain of yours. You want what you want and I can’t stop you,” I said, as we approached the train tracks which were elevated on a mound of gravel several feet off the ground. The warning lights flashed orange, the neon reflective barriers dropped down to cover the service road, while the bells indicating an approaching train clanged away. “And since I can’t stop you, I’m going to help you out. Bullet in the head was so three hours ago. I’ve got something even better in mind now.”
“Wait. What?” she asked, her teeth chattering. “You…you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?” I said, turning around to face her, almost losing my footing when I noticed the trail of dried tears on her cheeks. I looked away for a fraction of a second to regain my composure. “You think I wouldn’t kill someone?” I cocked an eyebrow. “You already know that I’ve been there, done that, bought the motherfucking t-shirt, doll.” Her eyes went wide and she made a move to step back. “Oh no, Doc, I read your letter and I saw what you wanted. And remember, I’m nothing if not accommodating.”
When I pulled her to climb the gravel mound her knees locked up so I bent over and picked her up by the waist, tossing her over my shoulder, carrying her onto the tracks while she beat on my back with her closed fists. When I got to the top I set her down roughly and she fell backwards onto her ass, bracing herself with her hands against the large pieces of gravel under the tracks.
The whistle of the train blew in the distance. It wouldn’t be long now. Dre made a move to stand up, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. I bent down and pushed on her chest, spreading her tiny frame across the tracks. I crawled on top of her, pinning her down with my thighs. I leaned over her, my chest to hers as we both breathed rapidly. She struggled underneath me to get up, pushing at my chest, but I wouldn’t budge. “Why the struggle, Doc? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
She glanced up at me as the train whistled again. Her gaze flipped to her right, where the single yellow light from the train emerged from around the corner, shining brighter and brighter as it chugged closer and closer. For a moment she stopped struggling, looking back and forth from the train to me.
“So what, you’re gonna die too?” she asked, hoping to appeal to my sense of self preservation.
I shrugged. “I get bored easily, maybe the devil will make me his errand boy or something.”
“Preppy, this isn’t funny. Get up and get off the fucking tracks,” she said, her concern shifting from herself to me.
I shook my head and yawned. She wiggled underneath me, and although there was a train barreling toward us my cock once again stirred to life. Maybe I should just rip down her panties and push inside of her. Train or no train, it would be one fuck of a way to go out.
“You have to choose, Doc,” I said, making my voice as serious as I was capable. “Life?” I asked, screaming over the sound of the train screeching against the track. I pushed my hard cock against her core and she gasped. Her trembling turned into a shiver, her mouth fell open. I glanced to the side at the blinding light of the approaching train as it bathed us both in a tunnel of light. I leaned down, so close that my lips were a whisper above hers, as I shouted, “Life? Or death? What’s it gonna be, Doc?” My hair blew around my face as the light grew brighter and brighter. “Answer the fucking question!” I demanded, my hands squeezing her shoulders, my fingers digging roughly into her skin. “DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?”
With only seconds left until we became shredded under the train, Dre closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again they were glistening, fresh tears spilling from the edges.
She started to speak, her lips forming the beginning of the word, but before it could fully leave her lips I stood, pulling her up with me. I lifted Dre into my arms and took a running leap off the tracks, my legs flailing in the air as we fell the seven or so feet. Dre’s decision still on her lips, her scream surrounding the air around us as we crashed down into the field.
“I wanna liiiiiiiiiiiivvvvvveeeeee.”


About the Author:
t.m. frazier bio.jpg

T.M. Frazier is a USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR best known for her KING SERIES. She was born on Long Island, NY. When she was eight years old she moved with her mom, dad, and older sister to sunny Southwest Florida where she still lives today with her husband and daughter.

When she was in middle school she was in a club called AUTHORS CLUB with a group of other young girls interested in creative writing. Little did she know that years later life would come full circle.

After graduating high school, she attended Florida Gulf Coast University and had every intention of becoming a news reporter when she got sucked into real estate where she worked in sales for over ten years.

Throughout the years T.M. never gave up the dream of writing and with her husband’s encouragement, and a lot of sleepless nights, she realized her dream and released her first novel, The Dark Light of Day, in 2013.
She’s never looked back.

Visit her at for news, information, and appearances.

Stalk Her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, and Goodreads.

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Release Blitz: Roxy by Jessica Caryn

by Jessica Caryn
Releases October 24th
#99cents #oneclick #Roxy

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"I got in the car, put on my sunglasses, and put the key in the ignition. The engine roared. I peeled off and did a 360. The tires sliced the sand. I sped up the dirt road and turned onto the highway. The heat rose and created a blur in the distance. I punched the gas. It was a thirty minute drive to Paradise. Axel did a number on my credit and my heart. It took five years just to make a dent in the amount. I made bad choices before I met Jordan. I had to end our relationship because I knew where it would lead. I was attracted to guys that were bad for me but good in bed. It was the story of my life... "

Roxy was down on her luck. A night out with the girls turned into something else when she met Austin Merrick in Gypsy. She didn't know a one night stand could lead to this...

About The Author
Jessica Caryn is passionate about art, music, film, and literature.
She writes adult fiction. Provocative fast paced reads with blushing and naughty romance.
Her favorite things are thunderstorms, natural teas, yoga, hazelnut coffee, provocative literature with raw grit, darling love stories, action movies, and random stuff!

Roxy was down on her luck. A night out with the girls turned into something else when she met Austin Merrick in Gypsy.
"I felt the heat when I saw him. I knew he’d be good in bed. Handsome could probably do it all night. I could just sit on his…"
Her last reckless decision will lead to something else.
Quick steamy read. #preorder #99cents
Release Date October 24th!

Cover Reveal: Wicked Impulse by Chelle Bliss

Wicked Impulse Cover

Wicked Impulse ALFA PI #3 Chelle Bliss Releases December 13th
There’s only one thing worse than dating a friend’s sister–sleeping with his mother.
Fran DeLuca’s known for her bossy, overbearing personality almost as much as for her love of nylon tracksuits. But when someone runs off with fifty thousand dollars, she becomes involved in an ALFA investigation and catches the eye of silver fox biker, Bear.
Bear North, ALFA’s resident bad boy, has never thought of Fran as anything more than his buddy’s mom. When she trades in her elastic pants and orthopedic tennis shoes for a pair of skintight jeans and high heels, he takes notice of the fifty-something MILF.
When the money trail leads closer to Fran than expected, Bear takes charge of the investigation and will do anything to protect her. Can Bear track a thief, claim Fran, and keep Morgan DeLuca in the dark long enough to solve the case?
Audiobook releases on December 13th too!

Chelle Bliss, USA Today Bestselling author, currently lives near the Gulf of Mexico, but hates sand. She's a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, and coffee fiend.
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