Ellesea Loves Reading: 10/20/15

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

Release Day: Reclaim Me by Ann Marie Walker & Amy K. Rogers

Enter to Win the Ultimate Chasing Fire Prize Pack!

RECLAIM ME

Chasing Fire #3

Ann Marie Walker & Amy K. Rogers

Releasing October 20th, 2015

Berkley Intermix

As the heart-pounding Chasing Fire trilogy concludes, a dangerous entanglement leaves Hudson and Allie wondering how much they're willing to risk for the love they can't live without...

There's almost nothing Alessandra Sinclair wouldn't do for Hudson Chase. He was her first love, and she's determined that he'll be her last. But when the terrible truth Hudson has been hiding comes to light, Allie finds herself caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse with a man from her past who's determined to use what he knows to ruin Hudson. Now, the only way to save the man she loves may
be to lose him forever...

Hudson has always known that the secrets he keeps could be his downfall, but he never expected them to put Allie's life in danger as well. It's time for him to come clean--before everything he's ever wanted is destroyed...

Includes previews of REMIND ME and RELEASE ME, the first two books of the Chasing Fire trilogy.

Praise for the Chasing Fire trilogy

"Exceptional...Seriously sexy and sinfully steamy. Can't wait for more from this writing duo!"--New York Times bestselling author Tara Sue Me

"Walker and Rogers strike the perfect balance between blistering physical desire and heartfelt
connections..."--RT Book Review

Allie bent to tuck her phone into the carry-on stowed beneath the seat in front of her. A shiver of awareness swept over her skin and she stilled. Hudson. She felt his presence just as surely as if he’d touched her. But despite the brief moment she took to prepare herself, the sight of him still took her breath away. He was standing in the aisle, the muscles of his chest and arms flexing as he shrugged out of his wool coat and handed it to the flight attendant. His hair was damp, no doubt from the snow falling outside, and when he reached up to run his hand through the unruly mane, his sweater rode up, affording her a glimpse of his honed washboard abs and the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his belt.

He glanced down and caught her staring. “See something you like?”

She ignored his obvious innuendo, choosing instead to address the much bigger issue. “What are you doing here?”

“Going after what’s mine.”

Check out the Complete First Chapter Exclusively at

USA Today's Happily Ever After

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Though thousands of miles apart, Ann Marie Walker and Amy K. Rogers are in constant contact, plotting story lines and chatting about their love of alpha males, lemon drop martinis and British supermodel, David Gandy. You can find them on twitter as @AnnMarie_Walker and @Amy_KRogers.

Amy K. Rogers

Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Ann Marie Walker

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Start the Chasing Fire Series Today!

Available Now

Amazon | B&N | iTunes| Kobo | GooglePlay

Available Now

Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo | GooglePlay

Release Day: Best Worst Mistake by Lia Riley

Enter to Win a

Digital Download of RIGHT WRONG GUY

Brightwater Book Two

BEST WORST MISTAKE

Brightwater #3

Lia Riley

Releasing Oct 20th, 2015

Avon Impulse

The third sexy and emotional novel in debut Avon author Lia Riley’s Brightwater series set in the mountains of Northern California

Sometimes the worst mistakes turn out to be the best…

Smoke jumper Wilder Kane once reveled in the rush from putting out dangerous wildfires. But after a tragic accident, he’s cut himself off from the world, refusing to leave his isolated cabin. When a headstrong beauty bursts in, Wilder finds himself craving the fire she ignites in him, but letting anyone near his darkness would be a mistake.

After her Hollywood life went up in smoke, Quinn Higsby decided to leave Tinseltown behind and returned to Brightwater to care for her ailing father. Spending her days in a small bookstore, her peaceful existence is up-ended by a fascinating but damaged man. Quinn is determined to not to be scared off by Wilder, not once she’s experienced the heat of his passions.

But when an arsonist targets the community and Wilder is accused, he must confront the ghosts of his past. Will his desire for Quinn flameout or will he be able to tame the wildness inside and rekindle a hope for their future?

His mouth covered hers. There wasn’t a warning. The rest of her babble hummed into his mouth, turning into a soft sigh. Oh, thank the lord, he felt it too then, this inexplicable connection between them.

“I should push you away, but can’t seem to get close enough.” He had her up against the wall, bracing his weight against either side of her head and she grabbed two handfuls of sweater and the thick wool felt as thick, masculine, and sexy as she hoped. As for the muscles beneath it … oh …

Oh yeah.

He slid his tongue against hers again with a husky moan. “This is a bad idea.”

“Stopping would be a worse one.” She broke the kiss to fasten her lips to the side of his powerful neck between thick cords of tendon, his stubble rough on her lips.

Amazon | B& N |iTunes | Kobo

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Lia Riley writes offbeat New Adult and Contemporary Adult romance. After studying at the University of Montana-Missoula, she scoured the world armed only with a backpack, overconfidence and a terrible sense of direction. She counts shooting vodka with a Ukranian mechanic in Antarctica, sipping yerba mate with gauchos in Chile and swilling XXXX with stationhands in Outback Australia among her accomplishments.

A British literature fanatic at heart, Lia considers Mr. Darcy and Edward Rochester as her fictional boyfriends. Her very patient husband doesn't mind. Much. When not torturing heroes (because c'mon, who doesn't love a good tortured hero?), Lia herds unruly chickens, camps, beach combs, daydreams about future books, wades through a mile-high TBR pile and schemes yet another trip. Right now, Icelandic hot springs and Scottish castles sound mighty fine.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads

Check out the other books in the Brightwater Series

Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo

Release Day: RIP by Rachel Van Dyken

Rachel Van Dyken brings you Rip a complete stand alone novel that fans of the Eagle Elite series will devour! With twists and turns you won't see coming, this dark romantic suspense will keep you on your toes and leave you screaming for more.

Pretty things aren't meant to be broken.

But I broke her, and now we both have to pay the price.

I'm her nightmare.

I'm her savior.

And now that I have her signature on an ironclad contract, I own her body and soul.

She doesn't remember me.

She will.

It's inevitable.

Because as much as I know I need to stay away, for fear of unlocking the memories I helped her father bury--I can't.

She was the apple in the Garden, dangled in front of me, her core so tempting and sweet. A voice whispered. Just. One. Bite.

I bit.

I tasted.

I fell.

Welcome to the world of the Russian mafia, where death, is your only future.

AMAZON *** iBOOKS *** Barnes & Nobles *** Smashwords

“So.” She plopped into the seat next to me and crossed her long legs. I fought hard to pull my eyes away. “Catch me up, what exactly are we doing in Chicago.”

I opened a folder and slid it across the table. “We are doing nothing. I, however, am making a speech at…a church.”

I didn’t miss her snort, or the way she tried to hide her amusement.

“Something funny?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “In church.”

“Where did this attitude come from?”

“You kissed me.” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned back into her seat, not missing a beat as she let her gaze wander across my body like a caress. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good, to be desired, wanted, and it was a welcome distraction from the pit in my stomach. I really, really didn’t want to go to Chicago.

“You kissed me back,” I retorted.

“Doesn’t matter, you still kissed me. The line between beast and his little toy has been crossed, therefore I kind of own you like you own me, just in a more...irritating way. I have your balls in a vise.”

“Let’s leave my balls out of the speech if you don’t mind,” I said ignoring her little ploy to get under my skin again.

“Hey.” Her grin spread smugly across her pretty face. “It may just inspire the crap out of them, you never know.”

This was a conversation that Andi would have loved, in fact, the more Maya talked the more I saw Andi in her, which just made it that much worse. Here Maya thought I was going to Chicago to slap hands with rich doctors and make speeches, when really, I was going because I made a promise, to a dying girl.

Just one more girl, I’d failed to save.

“Let’s leave all references to body parts out of my speech, hmm?”

“I’ll try.”

“I am the boss.”

“So you are.”

“I’ve created a monster. Had I known feeding you would gain this response I would have tied you up in the basement with a protein bar and some Gatorade.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s Netflix. Orange is the New Black combined with the nightmares…” She yawned and it was then that I noticed how tired she looked.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat wanting to press things further, what kind of nightmares had she been having?

“I haven’t been sleeping much. Then again I blame you for keeping me from technology for so long.”

“Which brings us back full circle. I should have never given you such privileges.” My voice came out in a bark.

“It’s a right, not a privilege,” she snapped.

“So this…” What the hell was it? A eulogy? Not really, that was Sergio, but he’d asked me to say a few words. Shit. I struggled with how to ask, I didn’t know the first thing about being at a funeral, I put people in the casket, I didn’t visit them after they took their last breath. My eyes stung with exhaustion. “I need you to help me write it.”

“Wait...” She visibly paled. “What did you say?”

“Write.” I nodded encouragingly, my anger surging, breaking through all of my carefully constructed walls. Anger had no place in my business, in my life, and anger toward her, did nothing but put her in danger. “You know, words on a paper, you put them down, I say them.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Maya…” I tsked. “I am what I am.”

“Put that in your speech.”

“Maya.” I grit my teeth together to keep myself from snapping at her. “I need a speech, something…encouraging, inspirational, happy.”

Maya pulled out her laptop and opened it up. “Inspirational…I can do inspirational. When was the last time I was inspired…?” Her cheeks bloomed red.

“What was that?” I breathed, my eyes lowering to the expanse of cleavage, it was a welcome distraction from my morose and jumbled thoughts. “Didn’t catch what you just said.”

“I, uh, didn’t say anything.” She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pinkening even further.

“Your mouth didn’t…your face did.”

“Let’s not talk about my mouth…”

“Why?” I leaned in. “Does it inspire you too much?”

“Ass!” she hissed.

“I think you’re on to something…” I chuckled, bracing my hands on the armrests. Six inches, and our mouths would touch. I wasn’t just toying with breaking the contract, I was ripping it up, burning it. Just as our mouths were about to touch, I paused, lingering where our breaths mingled, hers warm on my lips, mine ragged and needy. I was right about one thing; she would be a welcome distraction, one that wouldn’t allow me to feel sad, or bothered by the fact that I was flying to a friend’s funeral.

And that history, if I wasn’t careful could repeat itself.

She moved, dislodging her water bottle. It landed with a soft thump on the floor.

I reared back and stared at it.

What the hell was I doing?

And as luck would have it, the water droplets had cascaded against my left hand, my tattoo—the mark of the sickle, the mark that would tell anyone who knew anything about the darker side of life.

What I did.

Who I worked for.

What I was capable of.

What I would do—to protect not just my own identity but those closest to me.

My phone rang.

I reached down to silence it—ready to silence it, when I noted the number. Cringing, I answered it with a smooth hello.

“You know I have eyes everywhere.”

“Good afternoon to you, too.”

Maya pretended not to eavesdrop.

The last thing she needed to know was that I was talking to her father—correction, receiving another threat.

This one not so baseless as the rest.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, waiting for his response.

“She’s been touched.”

I rolled my eyes. “You sure about that?”

The line crackled.

“She flushes when you’re near.”

“Most women do.”

“Cocky son of a bitch.” He chuckled. “Remember the terms of our agreement, Nikolai, I scratch your back, you scratch mine. She means nothing to me. You are the one who has everything to lose. You’ve developed a god complex, but I know all your secrets. It would take nothing for me to destroy you. You signed in blood. And it will be your blood that is spilled if you go back on your promise.”

My nostrils flared, heat surged through my body as I watched Maya happily pull out a magazine and cross her legs. Damn it, he was right. What the hell was I doing?

My lack of self control would end up getting her killed.

I knew that just as much as he did.

I was stuck.

And he knew it. Part of me wondered if he was aware that I’d developed a conscience—then again, I’d stopped working directly with him long ago, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t still owned.

“We’ll be in touch.” The phone went dead.

Damn Russian mafia.

And damn me for being one of the best. I didn’t get the nickname The Doctor because I had a good bedside manner.

And I wondered, as I tried not to stare too hard at Maya while she read through her magazine, would she still be alive if I hadn’t have taken the job that changed everything?

Had I damn her, then?

Had I truly saved her?

I let out a low growl of frustration; clenching my phone in my hand, ready to break it in half. I wanted so desperately to protect her from Andi’s fate, but would it be better that she died?

My body tensed.

Would I be extending her mercy, by snuffing out her life?

Maya frowned down at the magazine, her eyebrows furrowed as the plane rose to altitude.

I didn’t shake, didn’t so much as tremble. I was a doctor, after all, and whenever I made a decision of life and death, I was calm. Humanity didn’t slip through. I didn’t have a come –to-Jesus moment, where I wondered if what I was doing would sentence me to the darkest depths of hell.

It was…clarity.

The only way I could explain it.

“Something else to drink?” I asked Maya while she popped her knuckles again. Shit, twice in a few minutes? Was there something about the plane? Or my conversation?

“Wine.” She said quickly. “If you have it.”

I nodded, already walking to the bar. I glanced to my left to make sure she wasn’t watching me, then reached into the cupboard and pulled out a syringe of sodium pentothal. It wouldn’t harm her. If anything, it would relax her more, make it so that I would be able to hold a conversation with her…without her remembering a damn thing, though the dosage needed to be precise. The last thing I needed was for her to end up unconscious.

“What time is it?” I asked while I poured the wine, keeping the small syringe in my right hand.

“Oh.” Maya yawned then glanced at her watch. “It’s nearing four in the afternoon, why?”

“Just thinking about our dinner plans,” I lied. Two and a half hours since she’d last eaten. I mentally went over her stats, weight one-forty, height five seven. She’d need a half dose at the most.

Clearing my throat, I turned, sliding the syringe into the top of my sleeve and bringing over the two glasses of wine; hers was more full.

“Wow, generous in all areas aren’t you, Nikolai?” Maya eyed the wine glass and took a long sip.

“Drink it all,” I instructed with a half smile. “Doctor’s orders.”

“All of it?” She laughed lifting the glass into the air. “This is at least two glasses.”

“At least half,” I said in a more gentle tone. “You seem stressed, and I know…I’m not the easiest to travel with.”

Maya blinked then took another sip of wine. “No, you think?”

“It’s a…” I coughed into my hand letting the syringe slip out to the tips of my fingers. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, setting her wine down on the arm rest.

“Nope.” I offered a encouraging smile. “A few more sips, trust me, you’ll feel so much better.”

Maya rolled her eyes but drank deeply.

The alcohol would work beautifully with the sodium pentothal. Truth serums, didn’t necessarily work by themselves, they were used in conjunction with other tools and drugs, allowing the human mind to be open to suggestion.

But no human mind or body was the same, meaning, the outcome was always different.

If Maya had any sort of…secret she was keeping close, something she wanted to tell me, but couldn’t or refused to, it would most likely come out at some point in the next half hour.

If she were harboring memories, dark ones, ones that scared her, and I offered her a caring ear, she’d jump at it.

And I’d know.

If she was getting triggered and how.

It sounded sick.

But it was of the utmost importance that she be kept in the dark, especially since her father clearly was still keeping eyes on her.

I told myself that as she drank more wine.

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking
coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!

You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

NEWSLETTER FACEBOOK TWITTER GOODREADS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE