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Sunday, 17 January 2016

RELEASE BLITZ: Complete Corruption by CD Reiss

Complete Corruption by CD Reiss is

NOW LIVE!

Find out what everyone is talking about for ONLY $0.99!

**Available on all retailers - Can be read as a stand alone**

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1SGhSfb

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1PPn9hU

iBooks: http://apple.co/1JDMBaQ

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1RgKVGQ

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1OIAABh

Can be read as a STANDALONE! Theresa Drazen can have plenty of guys, but the one she can't keep away from....the one she's just about addicted to, is more than forbidden. With felony-black eyes and a mouth built for lies, loving him is one step away from illegal.

But her body keeps overriding her brain. Maybe it's time to stop playing by the rules.

-------

Antonio is obsessed. Theresa's the last woman he should touch. She's going to get him killed. She's dangerous. Poison. The wrong woman.

Except...she's perfect.

And they both figure...one more time. Just one more time.

One more time and they won't get caught.

One more time and they won't get killed.

One.

More.

Time.......

complete corruption.

An excerpt

CD Reiss

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real places, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental

Cover Art designed by the author

“Listen!” I yanked back at his hand at the bottom of the stairs, but he yanked me and swung me through a doorway.

The choir dressing room was ancient with wooden lockers built in the Depression. So, when he pushed me against them, there wasn’t a clatter of sheet metal, but a thunk as they rattled.

Antonio grabbed me by the wrists, locking them together in two fingers and holding them over my head.

“You think I’m worried about him?” He put his finger to my face. “I spend not one minute of my life thinking about that man with you. He’s not even a man. He’s not worthy of you. He’s one of a thousand rats on the bottom of a sinking ship.”

“Then what’s the problem?” My question came out in a gasp because my body gravitated toward him, arching to press against him, just as he arched in the opposite curve to keep his face close to mine.

“Why did you see him?” I could have kissed him, but I moved my head against the locker door, turning my face toward the arched lead-glass window. I wanted him, not in spite of his anger but because of it.

“He went to Katrina. His team grilled her, and I don’t like it.”

“What did they grill her about?”

He knew damn well, but he wasn’t going to assume. I noticed that about him. He never assumed anything or jumped to a conclusion.

“You,” I whispered.

“Me.”

“You.”

“And you told him what?” he said.

“To stop. To leave you alone. That if he didn’t, I had enough on him to make his life a living hell.”

“Do you think you maybe should talk to me first, before you do crazy shit?”

“No.” I twisted and pulled my hands down. He let them go but increased his weight on me, pushing me against the lockers. “You barely let me out of an apartment that’s not even mine. I highly doubt you’d let me see Daniel.”

“Because it’s stupid and dangerous.”

“It’s what I have to give. And it’s useful to you. And go to hell if you don’t like it. I will never, ever sit still while he’s after you.”

“I’m already going to hell. Grazie.”

I pushed him away, and he grabbed my jaw, holding me still while he put his nose next to mine and spoke into my mouth. “You’re a loaded gun. Do you see that? You’re from a different world, but you smell like home to me. I haven’t been to Napoli in ten years, but whenever you’re near me, I smell olive flowers. My heart gets sick with thirst, but the water is poison.”

“Antonio—”

“I’m drowning, Contessa.”

“What are you talking about?”

His face got tight, holding back a flood of emotion. His fingers pressed harder on my face until I took hold of his wrist, pulling it down. He let go.

“Talk to me,” I said. “Just tell me.”

He looked confused for a second. Overwhelmed. Then, as if the dam had burst, he wrapped his arms around me and put his mouth to mine. It happened so quickly that I didn’t kiss him back at first. I couldn’t breathe; he held me so tight, but I got my arms around him and my mouth open, pulling him close, pushing as much of myself as I could into whatever part of him was within my reach. Thighs, hips, hands, shoulders, lips bashing lips, tongues forceful on tongues. It wasn’t even a kiss, or at least, not like one I’d ever had before. It was a slap, a punch, the use of force, a coercion of two worlds into uncomfortable cohesion.

The kiss never got soft and only ended when he jerked himself away.

“Talk to me,” I said in a breath.

“The thing I want most is the only thing between me and getting it. You are everything that will destroy me. I should go back to who I was. But you made me dream I could be free, when I’d forgotten I was in prison.”

“Is this about you being honest? Is it about me seeing Daniel? Antonio. If I hurt you, just tell me how. Let me make it right. Let me help you get out.”

He caressed my face with both palms with a tenderness that shouldn’t have been able to contain such intensity.

“Sweet olive blossoms,” he said. “That was God’s message to me.” He stepped away, and the space between us became a sigh. He held his hand. “The only way out is through.”

CD (Christine) Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets.

Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and sin in the city of Los Angeles.

Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,” “literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood.

If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

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Saturday, 16 January 2016

Cover Reveal: Blind Reality by Heidi McLaughlin

Check out the gorgeous cover for Blind Reality by Heidi McLaughlin scheduled for release on February 2nd. Reality TV fans - get ready to meet this amazing cast of characters!

Joshua Wilson, an up-and-coming movie star, is turned off by the idea of marriage. His Oscar-winning smile and breakout role in the summer’s hottest romantic comedy bring in enough attention to satisfy Joshua’s cravings for the spotlight – not to mention the never-ending supply of willing women.

Joey Mitchell is down in the dumps after finding out that her fiancé cheated on her with her best friend, and is living at home with her parents until she can get back on her feet. Without Joey’s knowledge, her overbearing and neurotic mother submits an application for her to appear on the reality show, Married Blind. When the producers surprise her with the news that they have cast her, Joey wants nothing to do with the show but agrees to participate because, at this point in her life, she really has nothing to lose.

Lights, camera, action… Welcome to another season of Married Blind. Contestants are about to take the plunge, but only one couple will come out of the house winners!

Release Date: February 2nd

Cover designed by Sarah at Okay Creations.

I hear a few gasps and can only assume that I’m approaching where I need to be. My father hasn’t let go yet, and for that I’m thankful. He’s keeping me steady on my feet and somewhat calm, even though thoughts of hanging my mother by her pedicured toenails are filtering through my mind. If she thinks I’m going to share my winnings with her, she’s off her rocker.

Winnings? How can I even think about winning? I’m not going to be able to pretend to be okay with this for three months. And what if he likes me? What if he finds me attractive and tries to kiss me? Then what? Ninety days of purgatory that’s what. I’m so not ready to live in a house with five people I don’t know all while trying to compete for Best Betty Crocker.

The announcer clears his throat and gets the audience cheering. Behind my blindfold, I’m rolling my eyes and glaring simultaneously at my groom. I know he’s standing in front of me; I can smell him. If anything, his cologne smells good, but it’s probably something his production assistant told him to wear.

Is he nervous like I am? Is he sweating from standing under these heat lamps? Are his parents here, too? What made him so desperate that he had to come on national television to find a bride? That’s the answer I want to know, but will never ask for fear of what he might say.

Neither of us should be doing this and yet here we are. I could run. I could slip off my blindfold and run without looking back. But what if he’s my soul mate and I don’t know it?

What damage could three months do?

Everything!

My father places my hands into those of my groom and while I should cringe, I don’t. My fingertips, hands, wrists, arms and everywhere else tingle. I feel warm, but not from the lights. It’s a different kind of heat. My tummy flutters. My heart pounds furiously in my chest, drowning out the audience, the music blaring overhead, and the crackle of the microphone. It’s all too soon when the music stops and I’m quickly reminded that this is just a show. I shouldn’t be excited.

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to compete with in good faith, from this day forward for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, or until three months has expired?”

Um … what? What’s his name? Don’t I get to know his name at least?

“What do you say?” the announcer’s voice bellows through the microphone. I can hear mumbling from the crowd as they wait with bated breath on what I’m going to say. Do people actually come on this show and say no?

“We need your answer.”

I bite my lower lip and nod. If he can make me feel the way he did when he held my hand, maybe three months won’t be so bad. “Yes,” I squeak out, my voice barely audible.

“She said yes,” the announcer roars, and the applause is deafening. I can’t help but smile even though I’m dying on the inside.

My groom’s voice is almost as quiet as mine, making me feel somewhat better that he’s just as nervous. I sigh in relief when he says yes. The crowd cheers again and the announcer pronounces us man and wife.

Here it comes. I sense my groom moving closer, and I hold my head high. His hand fumbles on my neck until he rests it gently on my cheek. The crowd is hushed and everyone is waiting for the moment that seals us. His lips brush softly against mine, and he pulls back before I feel his wet lips press against mine again, this time fully. If not for his hand, I’d be crumbling to the ground. My knees start to buckle. My palms, already damp from earlier, are sweating profusely. My heart has stopped beating, but I can hear his. This is a first kiss for the records, and the only thing missing is his face.

The announcer clears his throat and my groom steps back, much to the delight of the viewers. “This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” the announcer says. I read from the rules that the groom’s blindfold comes off first. There’s a collective gasp, followed by a series of ‘oh my God’s’ and ‘that lucky bitch’. Gee thanks, audience members. I can safely assume my groom is cute. Great, perfect. I have a cute husband who can turn my insides to goo when he holds my hand. Hopefully he’s not planning on winning many competitions that require physical touching because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.

Someone comes up from behind me and starts to untie my blindfold. I keep my eyes closed. I want to see him fully when I open my eyes. I open them slowly, but keep them focused on the ground. Slowly, I take in what he’s wearing—black patent leather shoes, with black tuxedo pants. His hand rests at his side, and I see the glint of a wedding band and quickly look down at my own hand. Was I so lost in my rambling thoughts that I don’t remember him slipping a ring on my finger, or me giving him one?

I remind myself that this marriage is not real.

“I’ll get you a bigger one,” a familiar voice says.

My head moves up quickly, and I’m caught in the dark, smoldering eyes that I’ve studied for hours on end. I swallow hard and say, “Holy shit,” before the darkness takes over, and I crumble to the ground in a heap.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00071]

Heidi is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author.

Originally from Portland, Oregon and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup, and their newest addition of a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL.

During the day Heidi is behind a desk talking about Land Use. At night, she's writing one of the many stories planned for release or sitting courtside during either daughter's basketball games.