Friday, May 30, 2014

**Double Cover Reveal** One Ride & Forever Ride ~ Hellions Ride Series ~ Chelsea Camaron

We are so excited to share with you not one, but two new covers from author Chelsea Camaron's Hellions Ride contemporary romance series!

Forever Ride
Book Two of the Hellions Ride Series
by Chelsea Camaron
June 2014
Events happen in life that can awaken our truest and deepest desires. They also show us our greatest fears. Sometimes we are forced to face those fears, other times we build walls that can’t be broken to protect ourselves.

A profound connection these two once shared. A strong friendship once formed was shattered. Fate has stepped in and shaken both their worlds.

The danger, the wild, the chaos, and the lifestyle of the Hellions world has become far too much for Savannah ‘Sass’ Perchton. Swearing off bikers and attempting a ‘normal’ life, she has settled. She’s committed to Nick, her country club, pretty boy. She’s found a way to be content.

Things aren’t always what they seem. Wrap an empty box in pretty paper and a bow, it may look amazing, but it’s still a hollow shell.

He’s a Hellions playboy. A different chick in his bed, off on a different ride, and always something new. He’s Frank ‘Tank’ Oleander, Haywood’s Hellions Road Chief. Throttle down and life is good.

The fast pace of the Hellions life catches up to him. At a crossroads, he’s forced to face some life changing thoughts or succumb to the darkness of death. Teetering on the brink of giving in, her voice is all he’s holding onto. The coma he can’t pull himself out of, her voice is what he holds onto.

She’s sworn off bikers. He’s facing the Reaper. Can he pull through? Can she ever see past the lifestyle to the heart of the man behind the cut? Will they find their Forever Ride?

Climbing off the bike, my legs are unsteady.
“Button, you don’t have to stay here with him. You know that, right?”
“Tank, it’s complicated,” I remind him.
“So you keep sayin’, but the way I see it, you can’t be you here. The fancy car, big house, stiff clothes, and boring hair… that shit ain’t you. Button, you gotta live life.”
“I’m safe living here with Nick. The Hellions aren’t safe. You, for one, should see that.”
“What I see is family. What I see is you’re afraid. You once called me out about being afraid of commitment. Well, Button, you’re full of fear, too. Fear of the unknown. There was a time when you wanted to take chances, to hell with the consequences. What happened?”
“Lots of shit happened throughout my life. The club life, it’s not for me. I’m not strong enough.”
“This is the life you were born into. It’s in your blood. Holding on to me just now, you relaxed into the ride like it was second nature. You know you’re meant for this, and you’re meant for me. Life’s too short, Button.”
“Tank, just let it go. Just let me go. Please,” I beg him, unsure how much more I can take before I climb back on his bike and let him take me away.
Roundman once told me to play the cards life deals us. Well, folding is not an option. You’re in my cards. Life placed you in my hand and I’m building my winning play around you. Sort your shit, Button, because I’m not letting go.”
The tears are building behind my eyes. “Please, give me time. You were gone a long time.”
“I didn’t come here to upset you or force my hand today. I’m gonna go, but I’m not giving up on you.”
Leaning over to him since he’s still on his bike, I kiss his cheek. “Until next time, Tank.”
“Until next ride, Button,” he responds with a wink as he cranks the bike and then proceeds to pull away, leaving my heart and my life a mess.

One Ride
Book One of the Hellions Ride Series
by Chelsea Camaron
December 19th 2013
Delilah “Doll” Reklinger never imagined her life with anyone that wasn’t a Hellion. She never imagined there would be a Hellion that could prove himself worthy enough to her father, Roundman, Hellions Club President. Content in living in the bubble of safety the motorcycle club family has always provided, Doll never thought that danger surrounded her.

Roundman has kept the Hellions contained for the last thirty years by controlling the chaos surrounding their lifestyle. When the dangerous side to their business comes knocking on his door, he realizes his precious Doll isn’t safe. The Hellions code may be that women and children are off limits in any altercation or dispute, but that doesn’t mean their enemies follow that same moral compass.

His only child, now in danger from the association to him and his club, Roundman makes a decision. He sends her away with a charter club member that he trusts, in hopes that the trouble won’t follow.

One ride across the country. One simple ride. Talon “Tripp” Crews has been ordered to take Doll on one ride away and to keep her safe. She’s off limits. His head knows this, but his body can’t deny the attraction. She’s feisty, fierce, and fearless.

Constantly in close confines together, can they deny the chemistry? Will they give into the desire? Can one ride turn lust into love?

Copyright © Chelsea Camaron 2013
“Tripp, you son of a bitch, I’m not done talkin’ to you.” He stops on the spot, but doesn’t turn around. Rex and Sass are standing still by their bike watching everything as it continues to unfold. He’s making no attempt to acknowledge me. Frustration running high, I march up behind him. I poke him in the shoulder, in an attempt to get him to turn around. When that fails, I jab my finger into the top of his shoulder. Still, nothing. Walking around to face him, I’m met with a mixture of laughter and lust in his eyes. He’s enjoying this, the fucker.
“You just fucking kissed me. I don’t even know your real damn name and you kissed me! You’ve insulted me, belittled me, taken me from my home to God knows where, and I don’t even know your fucking name!” I say jabbing my finger in his chest. Our eyes are now locked, battling each other in the stare downs of stare downs. My eyes are full of fury and his full of fun, maybe. Is this turning him on?
“If you’re running your mouth so I kiss you again, it ain’t gonna happen Doll. You’re wound up. You need to release the tension. How ‘bout we see if Jared can give you some ink?”
“You have lost your ever lovin’ fuckin’ mind if you think I’m going to let some friend of yours permanently mark my body. Again, I don’t even know your name. Yet, I’m supposed to trust some guy you know to tattoo me? Really? I may end up with Tripp tattooed on my ass.”
He laughs at me. Not the little ‘ha ha you’re so funny’ kind of laugh. No, Tripp folds over holding his stomach because he’s laughing so hard at me.
“What the fuck is so damn funny?”
Tripp stands up. The smile now gone from his face, replaced with his ever present serious glare, he looks directly at me.
“Get your ass inside. Shut the fuck up for two seconds so you can meet Jared.”
He walks off, heading for the front door. Sass is now beside me, as I stand here with a stupid look on my face.
“Come on, Doll. Let’s make the best of it. I’m game for new ink. You should get that tat you’ve been wanting with another damn bird. We’re stuck here until the guys have rested. Jared may be hot or have hot friends. You’re way too bitchy, loosen up some.”
“Sass, Delatorre had cameras in our house. How can I relax?”
“Fuck! He had what? Come on, let’s get inside and figure this shit out.” She says, taking me by the hand to the front door.
Walking inside we are surrounded by the designs on the red painted walls. Each intricate piece of work brings something new to life for someone. Hearing the buzzing of the tattoo gun in the back room, I’m immediately itching for a new tattoo. I have a sparrow on my right hip in memory of my mother and a robin on my wrist to represent the bond Sass and I share. Maybe Sass is right, and it’s time to get that tattoo I’ve been wanting on my left hip.
Tripp is leaning against the counter talking to a beautiful lady. She’s probably in her fifties, but time has treated her well. There’s vibrancy in her eyes as she’s chatting with Tripp, her face telling the story of a strong woman. We approach the counter.
“Doll, Sass, this is Momma C. And Momma C, you remember Rex. This is Doll and Sass.”
Introductions out of the way, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of comfort. Momma C gives me a feeling of home. Being around her reminds me of being with the ol’ ladies of the club. The level of nurturing and compassion that is held in the depths of Momma C’s eyes washes over me. I’m smiling and I’m comfortable here even with all the chaos surrounding my life. Tripp was right, I’m safe here. Even without meeting Jared it’s obvious Momma C will protect those around her.
A man with spikey hair, gaged ears, and full sleeved tattoos emerges from the back room. He’s followed by a man that walks over to Momma C pulling out his wallet, making it obvious he is a client. Immediately, the spikey hair man greets Tripp and Rex with that man half hug, back slap shit. When he’s done, he stares at me momentarily. He extends his hand. When I place my hand in his, he holds it.
“Name’s Delilah, but everyone calls me Doll. You must be Jared.” I say looking into his eyes. They tell the story of a strong man.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Tripp’s a lucky mother fucker.”
I laugh at his comment. “Tripp’s not my man.”
He pulls me into a hug and whispers in my ear, “With the death glare he’s giving me, I think he may disagree, Doll.” He kisses my cheek before releasing me.
He greets Sass quickly and escorts us to the back office area. The client is done paying, raises his hand in a slight salute wave in goodbye as he exits the building.
“Mom’s locking up. Here’s the key to the apartment upstairs. I’ll be here the whole time. No one will get to you without getting through me.” Jared informs us as he’s handing Tripp a key.
We go upstairs to the tiny apartment and settle in. Tripp’s in the shower. I update Sass on what I now know on Delatorre. Sass and I are restless, so we head back down to the tattoo shop. Finding Jared at a desk drawing, I smile at his focus. He seems like he’s good people, and maybe I shouldn’t have doubted Tripp. I need to learn to trust him.
“You need somethin’ Doll, Sass?” Jared asks looking up from his design to both of us.
“I’d like a new tattoo.”
“Sure thing, whatcha thinkin’ of getting?”
“I want an eagle on my left hip, stretching out in flight. Not overly big, but in its talon, I want it holding a very girly heart, not a lifelike heart, a feminine heart and a shield.”
He pauses, as a strange look comes across his face. “Doll, why do you want this specific tattoo?”
“An eagle represents the freedom of the motorcycle club world I live in. It’s talon holding my heart and a shield for protection. All my life I’ve been guarded and loved by all of the Hellions, not just my dad.”
“You’re sure you want an eagle and not the Hellions insignia?”
Irritation consumes me. Why is he questioning me? This is his job. I’ll pay for the damn tat. Cocking my hand on my hip, I glare at Jared. “It’s not my place to wear the insignia. Look, if you don’t want to do the tat that’s fine, just say so, enough with the bullshit.” Looking over at Sass for some sort of comfort as my frustration builds, she shrugs her shoulders like this is no big deal.
Hearing a noise behind me, I turn to see Tripp in the doorway. His hair down and wet. With his arms over his head gripping the door frame, and his jeans slung low on his hips, I can clearly see the toned ‘v’ of his lower abdomen peeking out from his shirt. The tattoos on his arms on display, as usual. Holy hell, he’s hot.
“What bullshit?” Tripp asks looking back and forth between Jared and me.
Nothin’. I wanted ink, but Jared’s asking eighteen hundred questions like I’m trying to get married or some shit.”
“Hold the fuck up, princess. Tripp may be interested to know the exact tattoo you’re talkin’ about marking your body with.” Jared pipes up. Sass backs away from me, leaving me inching closer to Tripp.
“I wanted an eagle with an outstretched talon holding a heart and shield. It’s whatever now, you guys seem to know better. I’ll get my fucking ink elsewhere. I’m going to bed.” As I start to move to the doorway, Tripp moves his arms off the frame. Great, he’s going to block my exit. Then, I watch as he removes his shirt. The ink adorning his body is all on display. I see the tats of his forearms go all the way up his shoulders and he has a dragon that peeks on both sides, maybe it wraps across his back. What has my attention though, is the large eagle over his left shoulder blade is coming down with an extended talon holding a lifelike heart and a shield.
He says nothing, as his muscles twitch involuntarily. Before I can stop myself, I’m standing mere inches from him, as I reach out and slowly trace the details of the design. I start at the white of the eagles head, delicately I outline the bird. As I reach his talon, Tripp stiffens underneath me. He grabs my hand holding it to his heart, the very place the heart of the tattoo lands. He drops his head, our faces cheek to cheek. His hair has fallen down off his shoulder it tickles my face as his breathing sends chills down my spine as it hits my ear.
“My name is Talon Ward Crews. Talon is for an eagle’s talon as its tool and its weapon. Ward meaning guard and protector. The eagle guards and protects my heart.” He whispers to me.

Chelsea Camaron was born and raised in Coastal North Carolina. She currently resides in Southern Louisiana with her husband and two children but her heart is always Carolina day dreaming.
Chelsea always wanted to be a writer, but like most of us, let fear of the unknown grab a hold of her dream; she realized that if she was going to tell her daughter to go for her dreams, that it was time to follow her own advice.

Chelsea grew up turning wrenches alongside her father, and from that grew her love for old muscle cars and Harley Davidson motorcycles, which just so happened to inspired her ‘Love and Repair’ series and the ‘Hellions Ride’ motorcycle club series. Her love for reading has sparked a new love for writing and she currently has a few more projects in the works.

When she is not spending her days writing you can find her playing with her kids, attending car shows, going on motorcycle rides on the back of her husband’s Harley, snuggling down with her new favorite book or watching any movie that Vin Diesel might happen to be in. She hates being serious and is still a big kid at heart. She is a small town country girl enjoying life and, Chelsea hopes that her readers remember not to take life too seriously and to embrace your inner five year old, because five year olds know how to enjoy the simple things in life and how to always have fun.

Read more ...

Thursday, May 29, 2014

**BT & Giveaway** REV ~ Bayonet Scars 3 ~ JC Emery

With the looming threat from the Mancuso Crime Family, the Forsaken Motorcycle Club is preparing for a war that could destroy them. Grady, the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms, knows that love makes you weak, and he has zero interest in adding to his liabilities– especially now. He’s already got his teenage daughter who keeps him on his toes and a beef within the club that could fracture his relationship with a fellow brother for good.

For Holly Mercer, her life is finally getting on track and the last thing she wants is trouble from her hometown’s resident outlaws. Keeping her nose clean is easier said than done, when suddenly she finds herself embroiled in club business. Holly might like the idea of being with a real-life bad boy, but even being in the same room with tough-as-nails Grady flusters her.

When Holly inadvertently finds herself on Mancuso’s radar, she has two choices: trust that Grady will protect her, or continue to refuse the club’s help. Both roads are dangerous, but only one has the chance to damage her beyond repair.

Love is never more dangerous than when it can destroy you.

In book 3 of the Bayonet Scars, we are reintroduced to Grady. Father to Cheyenne, Sargent-at-arms for the Forsaken, all around bad-a*^ mofo. He doesn't want to be messed with, he certainly doesn't want to be told how to raise his kid, let alone by a paper pusher from the school. Regardless of how pretty she may be. 

Holly, the said paper pusher (secretary), due to short staffing has put a helluva lot of effort into keeping Cheyenne from being expelled from school. When she starts acting out again, she decides it's time to track down her dad to get what she needs to make sure Cheyenne graduates. 

She doesn't know she inadvertently walks into a war. She didn't know she'd set things in motion just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

I feel it needs to be said **WARNING - Parts to this novel are EXTREMELY GRAPHIC**

While I'm a new inductee into the JC Emery - Bayonet Scars fan club (read books 1 & 2 *swoon*), I did find I had a bit of trouble with Rev. I felt like the 2 main characters didn't get enough "screen" time together, I felt the lack intimacy needed for a couple in love towards the end of the book. I would have liked to have seen a bit more interaction between Grady & Holly as a couple with the Forsaken. I also think that due to the amount of stuff going on in the novels, that at this point, it would be beneficial to the author to either give us a glossary of characters, or a summary rundown in the prologue. These books are not ones you can sit down and read in a couple of hours. There is so much going on that is pertinent to the story that you must take your time reading or you will get lost in the shuffle. 

Regardless of all of this, I still am deeply embroiled with the Forsaken and this mission they are on. I swear I think I smelled a little bit of romance between Ian and Mindy, I'm just not certain yet. Anxiously awaiting the next book in the series and the sweet little novella (don't know that sweet and little could be used to describe anything with MC) that is coming soon. 

And for those of you who follow my reviews a couple of things~ 
I had a chat with the author, while Bayonet Scars and the names of the books don't seem to jive too well with what's going on between the pages, Be Patient. It's coming. ;) 

And If your interested in my review for books 1 & 2 check them out HERE.


Deleted Scene #1: What She Deserves


The cool evening wind whips at my face and batters against my bare knuckles as I breeze through town. I’ve only been riding for a little over four hours now, but it’s starting to take its toll. My back aches, my knees are sore, and my arms long to stretch and my muscles from my face down to my toes are protesting the ride at this point. Cruising slowly past downtown and on a long road that leads to the old apple farm that’s now used as one of our grow houses, I curve off at the upcoming turn and pull into the small parking lot of a rundown apartment building. I’m here, I think gratefully. The gratitude lasts but a moment before the dread sets in.

Layla’s such a goddamn mess. I never know what kind of condition she’s going to be in. Today, I need her to be alert enough to have a conversation with me. If I call beforehand, she’s usually in better shape, but my ex is fucking unpredictable and she might bolt if she knows I’m on my way if she can’t get clean in time.

There are few streetlights to illuminate my way as I pull into an empty spot in front of the shitty first floor apartment that my kid’s mom calls home—for now at least—she never stays in one place for long. I cut the engine of my bike, prop down her kickstand, and climb off. I leave my helmet on her handlebars and stride to the door. My hand balls into a fist and slams against the cheap hollow hardwood three times before I stop and wait a beat to see if she answers. Just as I go for round two, the door swings open.

She was a beautiful woman once, and in some ways, she still is. She’s skinny as fuck and her skin is shit. She’s got tracks in the bend of her elbows, sores in the corner of her mouth and her cheeks have caved in from all the poison she puts into her body. Her hair used to be full and gorgeous, but now it’s stick thin and I don’t know how long it’s been since she washed it. Her light brown eyes are wide as she stands before me in a thin stained tank top with no bra and a small pair of shorts. Her outfit looks like something I’ve taken away from Cheyenne for thinking she can wear outside to get the mail.

“Hey,” she says in a soft voice as she steps back and out of the way. The apartment is small on its own, but without furniture in here it feels almost too big. Back when Layla and I first hooked up, we were a mess—never having anything stable. I had the club and she had me, but that was it. I spent years busting my ass, earning my keep, and doing shit that wakes me up at night so that we could have a nice home—so that our little girl would have some kind of stability. I fought hard to never have to be in a place like this again. It practically makes my stomach churn to think that she chose this shit over the house I killed for so that she and Chey would have something nice. But I’m not here to talk about the past. This visit is about the future.

Inside, the apartment smells of an unnatural sweetness mixed with a putrid stench of something having been burnt that I don’t want to place. Still, I step inside and cross the nearly empty room. I pass wooden crates that have been used as a table and three or four sleeping bags that tell me she’s got people crashing here with her. I push down the irritation I feel at having fucking strangers freeloading in the place I’m paying for.

She’s no longer my wife, I remind myself.

“Didn’t expect to see you for another couple of weeks,” she says and shuts the door. She folds her arms over her chest and taps her foot nervously. Fuck. Sometimes she does shit like this and it’s almost like Chey’s here. My girl shares a lot of shit with her mama, but hopefully an addictive personality isn’t one of them.

“Surprised you noticed I got a schedule,” I say.

“Please,” she says. She lifts her chin and speaks with more volume than before. “I know my Old Man.”

“Yeah, about that,” I say. She ain’t been my Old Lady since Chey was in diapers, but in the ways that count I’m still her Old Man. Still looking out for her ass, still taking care of her, and still making sure nobody fucks her over too bad.

Shoving my hands in my pockets and locking my jaw in place, I take a deep breath. Layla may be fucked in a hundred different ways, but she’s not stupid. One of the reasons I hooked up with her was because she didn’t give me shit about anything I did. If this situation weren’t so screwed up, I might find it humorous that I married one bitch because she let me run wild, but now I’m looking to marry another because she doesn’t.

“Yeah?” she says with a smile on her face. “You movin’ Elle in?”

Of course she would think I’m here about Elle. Any sane person who’d caught onto the fact that I’ve been fucking her and leaving for her years now would think this is about Elle.

“Her name’s Holly,” I say.

Layla loses her smile. Her eyes narrow and she just shakes her.

“You’re a bastard,” she says. Layla and Elle got a bond between them. Guess they would since I’ve fucked them both—figuratively and literally. “Elle know about this?”

“Yeah, she’s figured it out.”

“She pissed?”

“I’m betting she is,” I admit.

“Tell me about her,” Layla says. She’s getting cocky like she’s got nothing to lose. I guess she doesn’t. She already lost me, she’s lost Chey, and she lost her fucking mind and dignity. But regardless of where she’s at now, she’s my kid’s mom and if she wants to know about Holly, I’ll tell her.

“She’s the biggest pain the ass I’ve ever met. She’s mouthy, doesn’t know her place, doesn’t give a shit that I’m Forsaken, and has no clue what it means to be an Old Lady.”

“She sounds perfect.”

“She is,” I say. It was a little over two months ago that Holly fucked that guy up. She’s mostly come out of that dark hole she was in, but now it’s all about Mindy for her. With Holly being more stable and on better footing, I’m ready to move shit forward. That means canceling the lease on the apartment she hasn’t been to in almost three months. It means telling the club that I want them to officially consider her my Old Lady when her time comes. It means changing her last name and making sure she’s going to be a permanent fucking fixture in Chey’s life. Because shit. My girl loves my woman in ways she’s never cared for her own mother.

“And Chey?” Layla asks. Her smirk disappears and she’s retreating into herself now. Nobody knows her pain and feels her failures better than she does.

“Shit. Holly loves our girl more than she loves me, I think.”

“Good,” Layla says with a nod. Her eyes glass over and she chews at her lip. She sways awkwardly as if to distract herself. “She good to her?”

“The best.” The raw pain that builds in my gut is hard to ignore. I push it down, hopefully just long enough to finish up here and leave Layla with her demons.

“Good,” she says again.

“Could’ve been you,” I remind her. She’s not as powerless over this shit as she thinks she is. She could have been a mom to her daughter. She could have done shit like bake cookies with her and braid her hair. She could have done all that fucking crap that Holly now does with her. She’ll be eighteen in a few months and sometimes I forget that through the attitude and big mouth she’s still just a little girl who wants her mother to love her. It’s never more apparent than it is when she’s with Holly and asking her to do shit I know she can do for herself—like helping her fix her hair or for Holly’s opinion on her makeup. I try to pretend that hole ain’t there in my kid, but it is. I see it every day and it tears me up.

“I’m not the mothering type,” she says. It’s the truth but damn. All I can think about is how my kid would feel if she heard that shit. “I love our baby girl, but I’m no good for her.”

“Not like this you’re not.” My mouth works at forming the words again and again until I can force them out. This is for Holly, and I promised her I’d do this. “Holly wants to meet you at some point. That means you’re going to have to clean yourself up and figure your shit out for an entire fucking evening.”

“No,” she says and shakes her head. “I don’t need some bitch telling me I’m a shit mom because I can’t handle being around my kid. I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“One, that word ain’t gonna fly when you’re talking about my woman. Two, I pay your rent and I’ve kept your ass from dying on more occasions than I can count, so shut it. Holly ain’t about making you feel like shit. You were my wife, you are my kid’s mom, and you may have left a long fucking time ago, but there’s a stain in that house with your name all over it. She just wants to know you is all.”

“You tellin’ me she ain’t got another motive for seeing the fucking junkie whore who left her kid?” Layla’s temper is coming out in a way I’d rather not be here for. I can deal with as much shit as she can sling, but I don’t have to. Besides, if she’s gonna pitch a fit about this, I’m going to have to deal with Holly’s shit when I explain to her why my ex refuses to meet her.

“Stop it with that shit,” I snap and nod my head to her inner elbows that are dotted with needle marks. “You want to feel bad for how you’ve fucked up, fine. Feel bad. But don’t cry to me about it. You’ve earned those tracks and that’s your burden to bear, not mine, babe.”

“Still a dick,” she mutters discontentedly.

Giving her my best smile, I say, “You always loved my dick.”

“Still obsessed, I see. Your Old Lady know how hung up you are on your cock?”

“She’s got an idea.” Actually, Holly’s half convinced that I love her and my dick equally. She might not be wrong.

“Take care of your woman so she can take care of my baby,” she says quietly. She won’t cry—she’s not that self-pitying, even now.

We stand in silence for a long moment, just absorbing the gravity of our conversation. We’ve talked around this before—the fact that one day shit would change between us in an irreparable way. She’s not mine and hasn’t been for a long time, but until now, I was hers.

As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head and pursuing her bachelor's degree in English. JC is a San Francisco Bay Area native, but has also called both Texas and Louisiana home. These days she rocks her flip flops year round in Northern California and can't imagine a climate more beautiful.

JC writes adult, new adult, and young adult fiction. She dabbles in many different genres including science fiction, horror, chick lit, and murder mysteries, yet she is most enthralled by supernatural stories-- and everything has at least a splash of romance.
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Ride ~ Bayonet Scars 1 


Death comes in Armani. Salvation comes in leather.

Principessa to the Mancuso crime family, Alexandra knows a thing or two about living outside the bounds of the law. Suffocated by the future her father has laid out for her, she makes a choice she can't take back, changing the entire trajectory of her life.

Thrust into the dark and dangerous world of the Forsaken Motorcycle Club for her own protection, Alex finds herself faced with the last thing she needs right now: the man of her dreams. He’s sex in leather, the devil incarnate, and one hell of a kisser. But he’s also off-limits. Ryan Stone can be her friend, but he’s forbidden to be her lover.

Third-generation Forsaken, Ryan knows nothing other than life on two wheels, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He enjoys the many privileges that come with the patch, and the only laws he recognizes are the ones set-forth by his club. That is, until who he wants more than anything isn’t allowed on the back of his bike —or in his bed. Balancing his desire for her body, and need to keep her safe, Ryan tries to keep Alex at a distance. Finally having made a choice for herself, she’s done hearing the word “no” and will push boundaries even Ryan himself doesn’t dare cross.

Love is never more tempting than when it’s forbidden.

Thrash ~ Bayonet Scars 2 

Loneliness suffocates the heart. Acceptance breaks down walls.

As a Lost Girl to the Forsaken Motorcycle Club, Nicole Whelan knows how to party. She’s not cut-out for relationships and her life is way too complicated for anything more than casual encounters. But one night when she falls into Duke’s bed at the clubhouse, he sees something in her that he can’t let go of—no matter how many times she tries to run.

Having been left to raise her teenage brother, Jeremy, she’s already got her hands full and isn’t looking for anymore complications. But Duke’s just watched his best friend fall for the only girl he couldn’t have, and then almost lose her so shortly after, shaking him to his core. Faced with his own loneliness, he’s more determined than ever to break down Nic’s walls and show her that he can be good for her; but he’s got a bad track record and she’s got a bad temper. Changing his ways isn’t easy when he’s not sure what he’s even changing for.

The violence and turmoil are at an all-time high, and Forsaken is in a vulnerable place when a twist of fate breathes new life into the club. It’s a much-needed beacon of hope for the embattled biker family, even if everyone’s not exactly on board. With Duke and Nic’s relationship already on shaky ground, and something even more important at stake, the Forsaken Motorcycle Club will fight like hell to keep their family together and whole.

Love is never more precious than when it’s new.

~~~~~COMING SOON ~ CRUSH ~ Bayonet Scars Novella~~~~~

Young love is always perfect. Until it's not.

Cheyenne Grady is a total daddy's girl to her bad-ass father, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Forsaken Motorcycle Club. She's funny, and kind, and she just wants that deep, earth-shattering love like her dad has with her school secretary, Holly. But Cheyenne's been looking in the wrong direction, because the only good that can come from the way she looks at Jeremy Whelan is a lesson in heartbreak.

Jeremy always wanted to prospect for the Forsaken Motorcycle Club and wear the same patch as his father. When a life-long dream becomes reality, Jeremy realizes that the outlaw lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. Nor is it easy on relationships. He wants to be a good man, but temptation is everywhere.

Cheyenne is beautiful, and strong, and exactly what Jeremy could have forever. As long as he doesn't screw it up.

Love is never more powerful than the first time.
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Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Much Anticipated **CR** HOT-BLOODED ~ Kendall Grey

If Robert Rodriquez (Sin City), Tony Soprano, and David Lynch (Twin Peaks) made sweet love to a Hawaiian version of The Bride (Uma Thurman’s character from Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill), the resulting spawn might look like Kendall Grey’s upcoming mystery/suspense/supernatural thriller, HOT-BLOODED.

The first installment in the Ohana series, HOT-BLOODED is set on the island of Maui and is wrapped in the light and dark watercolors of Hawaiian culture, history, and mythology. It’s about guns, drugs, surfing, and tiki monsters. HOT-BLOODED tells the tale of a ballsy, half-Hawaiian angel-turned-demon, the duplicitous assassin who falls for her, and the blessings and curses of family—all wrapped up in freaky, supernatural gift paper.

Here’s the description:
WARNING: HOT-BLOODED does NOT end with a happily ever after. It contains drug use and graphic sex, language, and violence. The story is intended to entertain, not to condone or glorify illegal or immoral activities. This book is unsuitable for sensitive readers and those under the age of 18.
*Written in 3rd person. Contains a massive cliffhanger and multiple POVs.
Ohana is everything…
When an accident claims her mother’s life, Keahilani Alana must take charge of her ohana (family) or risk losing what little they have. With an underage brother to care for and no education, she has few options. The door to a heavenly hellish opportunity opens when she stumbles upon a valuable secret her mother left behind on the slopes of an extinct volcano—a legacy that tempts the family with riches beyond their wildest dreams. But the secret is much bigger and more sinister than they realize. As reality unravels and exposes eerie truths about the ohana that should have remained deep under the mountain, Keahilani must either resist the call of her blood or risk being consumed by its darkness.
Blake Murphy is an assassin working to infiltrate a new Hawaiian cartel. His investigation reveals that Keahilani, the sexy surfing instructor he pegged as an informant, is much closer to the drug ring than he thought. Passion ignites between them in the bedroom, but their ironclad ties to opposing interests pit them against each other everywhere else.
When tensions reach the breaking point and her ohana is threatened, the only cure for Keahilani’s hot-blooded fury is a loaded clip with a body bag chaser.
They don’t call her Pele for nothing.

Here’s the cover, designed by Renee Coffey:

So, are you up for a steamy, violent descent into tropical-island madness with a supernatural twist? If so, you can add HOT-BLOODED to your Goodreads TBR here. The release date hasn’t been announced yet, but Kendall is shooting for the end of June or early July. Stay tuned!

You can stalk Kendall on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Amazon, or her web site.
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**BT** Alluring Temptation ~ Bayou Stix 3 ~ Skye Turner

Liam Christianson is the devil-may-care, rhythm guitarist for Bayou Stix, the hottest rock band around. He’s a playboy and likes to do things his way. No regrets. He knows that women love him, and he uses that to his advantage. He’s cocky and shallow. Or so it seems.

Clove Rodrigue is the baby sister of Liam’s bandmate and friend. She’s a sweet, fairly innocent young woman who was dealt a bad hand and became a victim of circumstance. After finishing culinary school, she returns home to Baton Rouge. She finds herself living under the same roof as Liam and they quickly realize they are like oil and water. He hates how perfect she is, and she can’t stand his treatment of women.

Both Liam and Clove are accustomed to letting others see only what they want them to see, each hiding behind false pretenses.

What happens when polar opposites realize that their hatred of one another is really attraction? Will they succumb to the allure? What happens when the things that you fight so hard against are the very things you need the most in the world?

Skye Turner has pulled off another sexy ass novel with Bayou Stix. Liam Christianson is the bad boy. THE bad boy. Different woman every night. Panties drop when he flashes his smile. When he's living in the same house as Clove, sparks fly, and not the good kind. 

Clove & Liam butt heads every waking moment of the day. 

Between the pregnancy and some wrong decisions in her past, Clove feels like there's no way she could ever be good enough for the golden boy of Bayou Stix. 

Between his inherent love for women and his crazy upbringing, Liam knows that Clove deserves so much more than what he can give her. 

I love Bayou Stix!! One of my favorite Book Bands. Every single one of them are crazy sexy and always bring something new to the characters and the world that Skye Turner has created. Flawless writing style and love the opposing POVs. Bravo Skye! Can't wait for the next book!! 

Skye Turner is an avid reader and an editor turned writer.

She attended Southeastern Louisiana University and Louisiana State University where she majored in Mass

Communications, centering her studies in Journalism. Unfortunately life intervened and she made the choice to leave her studies.

She lives in small town Louisiana with her husband, 2 children, and 4 fur babies.
When she's not chained to her laptop pounding out sexy stories she can usually be found playing Supermom, reading, gardening (playing in the dirt), listening to music and dancing like a fool, or catching up on her family oriented blog.

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**BT & Giveaway** Room 212 ~ Kate Stewart

****Mature Audiences only**** (language, explicit sex, some drug use)

In every life there is always

Twenty-one year old Laura Sedgwick is a rebel without a cause. Her only plans for life are to make no plans. She revels in her fascination of the unexpected as she navigates her way through mid -1990’s nightlife. One very bad night brings her face to face with the one man likely to change her mind about…well...everything.

Twenty-three year old Seth Whitaker has every intention of seeing through with his well mapped out life. He is a hard working over-achiever that has no intentions of slowing his pace for anyone. With a fierce determination to not let life pass him by without taking a huge bite, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the one distraction that could keep him from his best laid plans. Little did he know his determination to keep his life on track would be the very thing to trigger the events that change the course of both their lives.

In this life she had only done one thing right...

...and she was his only chance at salvation


Every once in awhile a book comes along out of the blue and catches you by surprise!
That's exactly what Kate Stewart did with Room 212!
I knew from the beginning I was going to have a tough time getting through this one... Your first love is often the one who breaks your heart, breaks your spirit and walks away with part of your soul.
Laura is a brat with a trust fund and no desire to conform to proper social standards. Not a lot this girl has not tried! Seth is a hard working man who has his whole life mapped out until he meets HER!
I honestly didn't want this book to end. I had a very bad feeling something was not quite right! My heart broke over and over as this up and down relationship spiral ed out of control. (Lord help me I'm having flash backs as I speak)
There are some great lessons in this beautiful story if you choose to heed them. The author was not afraid to speak of things such as God, karma and fate! (I love that!)
Seth and Laura got what they deserved in the end. I cried! Thank goodness book two is on its way!
Five stars from me!


All I was feeling was showing in the bathroom mirror on my reddened face. I was having a hard time enjoying it, instead of being terrified. I cupped some water from the faucet and swallowed, willing myself to get it together. I walked into the hall of the long corridor that led back to the rooftop door and found Seth waiting for me, arms crossed over his chest, casually leaning against the wall. I stood on the opposite wall, placing my hands behind my back. I felt a drop of water drip from my bottom lip onto my chest and slide into the V of my dress. I saw his eyes follow it with envy as he spokes his first words to me.

“You are all I think about, and I come here and you look…like this,” he breathed the words to me and I felt them on every inch of my body. I moved to go to him and he made a small gesture that kept me where I was. He still wanted to play and I was game.

“What do you think about?”

“Your laugh, the way your voice is raspy in the morning when you wake up, the arch of your perfect feet, the way your hair falls over your face when you’re on top of me, the way this feels right now and every time I’m with you.”

I pulled my leg through the thigh high slit in my dress propping my heel on the wall behind me and smiled. He cursed as he came toward me in a blur. He stopped himself inches away, placing both hands on the side of my face against the wall.

“Temptress,” he whispered into my ear.

Kate Stewart, a native of , now resides in She moved to the city three weeks after her first visit, dropping her career of 8 years, declaring the city her creative muse. Since her move in 2010, she has launched a photography and event planning business as well as written her first novel, TITAN. She lives with her husband of 7 years, Nick, who is featured on the cover of the novel. Her second novel Room 212 is set to publish March 2014.

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